El Camino de Santiago: Day 5 – Arca to Monte de Gozo/Santiago (18 km)

Waking up to a sore body wasn’t nearly so hard today. I was just as sore, if not more sore as the days before, but I knew that today I would be stepping up the front of the cathedral and completing a journey that thousands of pilgrims had completed before me. This thought gave me energy and the will to persevere the rest of the day.

I walked alone for the first bit of the hike, then with Lindsey and Amanda. My legs were really started to hurt. If this wasn’t my last day of hiking, I would have been more worried about it. I’m pretty sure my stride was changing and that certain muscles and joints were compensating for others. The three of us were all uncomfortable in different ways and tried to distract each other with funny anecdotes and debates.

We had a very heated argument about the notorious toilet paper roll debate (should the paper feed from the top or bottom?) Amanda taught me the turkey-dog scale and Amanda and I introduced Lindsey to the concept of spirit animals. We all had a good laugh when Amanda told us that someone had once given her the krill as her spirit animal! I am undoubtedly a rabbit. We decided upon a kangaroo for Lindsey.

Later, when we had a low point and all feeling tired, Amanda offered us gum and we tried to pretend that it was energy gum and would make everything better. Haha, we were really hurting. The ridiculousness of this idea raised our spirits though, and we once again were laughing out loud.

Later, we came across a group of 3 Spanish men singing/chanting a song. We fed off of this positive energy and intentional followed behind them to listen. They of course noticed our stalking, but knowing they had an audience luckily only made them sing louder. We then decided to reciprocate the favor by singing “We are the champions” at the top of our lungs.

In this manner we persevered and got to Monte de Gozo around noon. The others from our group who had arrived earlier were soaking in the sun, eating chips, and drinking from liter bottles of beer. Even though we were technically 6km from the camino, arrived at this point felt like an accomplishment. Monte de Gozo is the last hill before Santiago and is the first time you get a view of the city. It is also the location of the largest albergue in the whole camino. It has dozens of barrack-style buildings that together look like a military base camp. Once everyone had made it to Monte de Gozo, we had a vote as to how we would go about finishing the camino. After much discussion, it was decided that we would check into the albergue, talk showers, leave our bags, and then continue to the cathedral on foot. The shower felt great, and my feet were hurting, so I didn’t mind this option. I did feel like we were cheating a little though, by leaving our packs in the albergue.

The last 6km of the camino are on paved road, meandering through the city. The signage is much harder to follow because there are signs for everything (roads, museums, parking lots, traffic signs, etc). It was strange walking on the sidewalk with other pedestrians. Before, everyone we encountered had been a pilgrim. Now we were walking alongside women in high heels and men in business suits. What was even stranger was that these women in heels were gracefully walking, faster than I, while I was limping along with an expression of utter exhaustion. These last kilometers were definitely the most painful and I kept thinking how happy I was that we left our packs in the albergue. We had been told earlier that the walk from Monte de Gozo to the Cathedral was about 3 or 4 km, so the 6km that we walked seemed like the longest kilometers of my life.

As we got closer, we could see the cathedral towers and knew we were close. My heart began to race out of excitement and relief. We were just a few blocks away when our guide led us into a restaurant for lunch. After hiking five days with the anticipation of reaching the cathedral, I was surprised to find myself not in the least bit disappointed or upset that we would be taken an hour and a half lunch before reaching the cathedral that was literally a 5 minute walk away. I was so hot and tired and hungry that a chair and food was all that I wanted, and I think I would have been perfectly content spending the rest of the day there in the restaurant too.

The food was delicious. I started with a salad, and then was served more fish. What was more memorable about this lunch, however, was the waiter serving us. Every time he passed by our table, he would sneak a look at Holly. We got a kick out of it and couldn’t help laughing. Then dessert came and Holly decided to have a little fun. Dessert was ice cream cones (drumsticks) and she began to lick her ice cream slowly while making ridiculous faces. The rest of us girls were practically falling out of our chairs laughing – partly for her facial expressions and partly for the waiter’s who couldn’t help staring at her. What a hoot!     

After lunch we started towards the cathedral again. When we were just around the corner from the cathedral plaza, our guide instructed us to link arms and look at the ground. Without looking up, we were guided to the very center of the plaza. On the count of three, we all lifted our heads and reveled in the grand cathedral and all its magnificence. We made it!

Next stop – Oficina de Acogida de Peregrinos. Pilgrims who have walked at least the last 100km of the camino (o biked the last 200km) is qualified to receive their ‘Compostela’. The Compostela is a certificate, written in Latin, which proves your completion of the camino and certifies you as an official pilgrim. (This is where you show your camino passport with all the stamps.)

Side note: As we were waiting for everyone to get through the line and receive their Compostela, Lindsey accidently stepped on Alberto’s foot! (Alberto is the one who had to go to the hospital to get his feet treated). Oh, if only you had heard him cry out in pain. Yikes!

Then we went into the cathedral. It was somewhat surreal seeing with my own eyes all of the features and parts of the cathedral that we had learned about in class. I would point them all out in my mind…“mira, un arco apuntado, eso es gótico” o “la planta es un típico cruz latina y los transeptos tienen un bóveda de canon, eso es románico”.

Unfortunately, the Porta de Gloria, the first central facade of the cathedral, which is an elaborately decorated masterpiece by Maestro Mateo, was under construction and almost completely covered by plastic tarp. But, we were still able to see the handprint indentation that in the parteluz that had been formed by the repetitions of placing millions of hands on the same spot. Unfortunately, the bust of Mateo at the bottom was blocked off, so we couldn’t bump our heads on his forehead 3 times, which is supposed to transfer some of his genius to you.      

The main altar was open, however, so we were able to embrace the 13^th century statue of Santiago (another tradition for pilgrims). Then we took the stairs below the altar to the tomb of Santiago. This didn’t really have any religious significance to me; I highly doubt that the bones are those of St. James. Even if they were, it wouldn’t mean a whole lot to me anyways because even his existence to me is questionable. What I found most intriguing was how millions of people from all over the world have been coming to this exact spot for centuries. I thought about how many miles have been walked, blisters been popped, tires gone flat, all for the purpose of reaching this silver box of bones.

Sometimes I wish I was more religious. Like right then, for instance. Imagine how one must feel to reach a relic like this that you truly believe contains the remains of an apostle that you believe in. Or, how it must feel to know that all the sins you have ever committed in your life have been pardoned; that you will now be safe and go to heaven. While today most pilgrims do the camino for reasons other than religious motives, this was the principal reason during the middle ages. During this time, hell was greatly feared, such that people were willing to risk their life (and often did), in order to assure entrance into heaven. Nonetheless, this was still an emotional, surreal moment for me.

We also walked by the sacred door to the cathedral. This door is only open in the years when St. Jame’s Day (July 25^th) falls on a Sunday. This happens every 5-11 years. The last year was 2010 and the next won’t be until 2021. During these years, the number of pilgrims is significantly higher. Our group thinks we should have a camino reunion and do the camino again in 2021, how fun would that be?!

The cathedral was beautiful, but the truth is I didn’t appreciate it very much. I was so tired and exhausted that all I wanted was to get out and sit down for the rest of the night. By this time my right ankle was swollen and red, and I had a noticeable limp. Stairs were the worst and almost impossible without a hand rail. I never thought you could hurt so badly from just walking!

Finally, we were given free time. And all that everyone wanted was pizza and a place to watch the futbol match (Madrid vs. Barcelona). So, we went to a pizzeria, ordered food and drinks, and watched the match on a big TV screen. It was perfect!

The bus came to pick us up at 10:30pm, before the match ended. We could have stayed longer to watch the end of the game and catch a cab, but the prospect of a bed was too appealing. As soon as we got back to the barracks, I fell right asleep.  

El Camino de Santiago: Day 4 – Ribadiso to Arca/Pedruso (22 km)

I forgot to mention another important conversation from the night before. One girl was concerned about having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. The bathroom was in a separate building and we were sleeping in bunks on the second floor of a building. To make matters worse, there weren’t any lights in the albergue, the stairs were covered with sweaty socks and shirts drying, the we had to walk through a room where people were already upset at us for walking through during the evening as they went to bed early (even early for the camino). So, what were we to do? We began to brainstorm. We could try to go out the window? But, as one girl demonstrated, it was quite difficult sticking your butt out the window, and the risk of falling was too high. We could use a water bottle? But, no one was willing to sacrifice their bottle. We could use a pot from the kitchen? No cooking supplies to be found. We use a trash can? Finally, a trash can was found. But, would the tinkling noise wake others? The moonlight would shine on your own “moon”…and the room was co-ed. So, we decided the best option was to risk the wrath of the pilgrims downstairs. A small laser pointer was put at the foot of the stairs with a roll of toilet paper. (I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and it all went swimmingly. I was, however, relieved when our next albergue had a bathroom in the same room and the same level). 

Morning arrived all too quickly and before I knew it I was on the road walking again. At least I wasn’t any more sore/hurting than the day before. My blister from the day before had drained well, thanks to Alfonso, our guide’s, mastery in foot care.

More walking. More cows. More pain. BUT….More beautiful countryside. More friendly peregrinos. More perfect weather. More hilarious discussions. More sense of accomplishment.

I caught up with Aina, the Spanish girl who I had met the night before and we walked together for a good hour, hour and a half. She was super friendly and very complementary about my Spanish. She enjoyed practicing her English too. Maybe I’ll get a chance to visit her in her home town before I leave Spain? We’re Facebook friends now, so at least we have the chance to stay in touch. Gotta love Facebook.   

Later on we came across a dog that was lying on the side of the road. There was a car stopped in the road and a crowd of people. We thought that the dog had been hit by a car, but apparently not. It was having seizures. When someone went to the neighbors to use the phone to call a vet or hospital, they said that this wasn’t the first time and that the dog was epileptic. It was hard watching the dog suffer. Someone had called for a vet and help was on the way, but there was still some discussion among the group as to whether or not someone should end its misery. It was at this point that I came to a very important realization. I realized that no matter how much I wanted to kill my dog Hannah at home, I would never be able to do it. Here was a dog, begging for mercy, waiting for his life to end, and I couldn’t even think about helping it get there. Oh well, at least knew I wouldn’t have to be so worried about my own self constraint back at home. I’m not a dog killer. (See, no worries Kimberly. Those early years of my childhood, crab crushing and slug roasting, didn’t have a lasting impact on me).         

Today it was easier to walk through the discomfort because I knew that by tomorrow I would be in Santiago! It was interesting to see how we began to disperse as a group each day while walking. The first day we were more or less a herd, always able to see someone in front or behind us, and usually in walking in groups of 3 of more. The next days the groups got more spread out and more people began walking in pairs. By today, everyone was walking at their own pace, whether or not it matched someone else’s or not. By this point, we were all aching enough that stopping to rest would probably only have made things worse. (It’s always hard to start again once you stop and cramp up). For this reason, no one wanted to stop, even for a minute, while a friend took pictures or went to the bathroom. I’m pretty sure almost everyone was walking on their own by now. Around 2pm I met up with two girls close to the mile marker we were supposed to stop at for the day. One of the girls, Charlotte, had already been there for about an hour and hadn’t seen the three people of our group who were ahead of her. We didn’t want to walk further to meet up with them, however, because we didn’t want to walk further than necessary. We also didn’t want to stop and rest, get cramped up, and then have to walk a couple kilometers further. After there were about 5 of us, however, we decided to stop at outside a gas station where we could see the camino trail and wait for our guides while sipping drinks and eating snacks.

Almost an hour later the guides hadn’t arrived yet and we were getting a little antsy…and hungry, of course. But, a few moments later, they showed up and told us that we had indeed stopped at the correct spot, yeah! We called one of the other 3’s cell phones and found out they were about a km ahead. So, they walked back and we all met up at our albergue for the night in Arca. Then, we walked to lunch. It’s funny how we all complained about the distance to the restaurant (about 3 blocks) after walking 13 miles. But once you’ve walked this long, you don’t want to walk any further than necessary.

Lunch consisted of a salad for my first course and fish for my second. (Yes, so far I had ordered salad every day except the first and fish every day). But, the other options were meaty or fried, and I had lots of luck fish so far. And, when you’re really hungry, you aren’t as willing to try new things. No one wants to fill themselves up on a plate of food they don’t like.

After lunch I grabbed my book and sat in the front yard of the hostel. Soon others joined me, so I really didn’t do much reading. It was more fun bonding over our blistered feet anyways. My blister had grown back from the day before, but I was far from making it to the top of the list. Charlotte had a huge blister underneath her big toenail that had caused the nail to rise up. It was pretty filthy! She also had two bruised toenails. (Update: she has since then lost all 3 toenails). Sylvie had a blister between her two toes that looked pretty painful. First prize went to Alberto, however. His feet were so bad he had to get driven to Santiago to get his feet treated at the hospital. We met him the next day in Santiago and his feet were all bandaged up. Although you couldn’t see the damage, his facial expressions were enough my make me cringe.

I tried taking a half hour nap but couldn’t get comfortable in my bed. Every position seemed to put pressure on a sore part of my body and making adjustments was painful and futile. So, I took a shower instead.

For dinner we had the option of going to a pizzeria or eating a picnic style dinner in the albergue of food from the supermercado. Since pizza isn’t my favorite, I went for the picnic dinner. At lunch, 8 people had raised their hand for the picnic, but only 5 of us showed up to eat, so we had an entire Tarta de Santiago (almond cake) to ourselves! And it was really good! I actually had a second slice if you can believe it : ) We still only made it through half of the cake. The other peregrinos were happy to help us out though.

After dinner we sat in our bunks for a bit talking. Three teenagers from Mallorca (an island off the coast of Spain) came up to talk to us. Actually, they kind of stampeded us. One of the guys was chasing a girl around the room with his smelly sock and she chose to hide in one of our lower bunks that were unoccupied. The other guy had spent a couple months in Minnesota studying in high school and spoke fairly good English. We asked him what he missed about the states and he said the American breakfast (this seems to be a reoccurring theme on the camino). His eyes lit up when we started talking about pancakes and maple syrup.

Then we dozed off to sleep. Fortunately I was able to get more comfortable in my bed than the afternoon…probably a result of the ibuprofen…and slept fairly well.        

El Camino de Santiago: Day 3 - Palas de Rei to Ribadiso (25 km)

First thought this morning: “Oh my goodness, how am I going to walk another 12 miles today?” I wasn’t tired, just very very sore. There’s a difference, I’m not just denying the fact that I was a little out of shape. But, I wasn’t the only one. Haha, just by making eye contact with someone you could say everything. Breakfast early again, at 8:30 (I think you can guess by now what we had). And once again, on the road.

Today would be slightly different because we would be stopping in the middle of the day for lunch. Although today we were to walk the same distance as yesterday, there would be much more elevation changes. You also have to factor in the sore muscles, making us just a bit slower than before. Also, the town we were going to pass through around lunch time was famous for its octopus…so we couldn’t pass on the opportunity.

So, around noon or so we stopped in a town, slightly larger than the others we had been passing, for lunch. The walk up until then had been very scenic. Beautiful trees, rock walls along the sides of the path, old houses and churches, and of course, cows. I spent the whole morning walking with Lindsey, a girl in my group who I hadn’t met until the camino. She was great company and time flew by.

Lunch was a feast!!!! Out came the bread and vino, and….you can finish the sentence. Then we started with pulpo (octopus) which was very tasty. It’s cooked in huge pots of boiling water/broth and served in small bite-size pieces with toothpicks. Yummy! Then more Gallego soup, which is always served out of a large silver pot on the table (there’s probably some fancy name for the soup pot, but I don’t know it). Then arrived platters of salad, French fries, pork chops, and pork loins. And then platters of fruit – my favorite dessert ; )

The second half of the day, which consisted of more walking, was long and hot. The road had more ascents and descents, which took a toll on my joints. This was the first day that the camino really became a mental game. When every step you take is more that “slightly uncomfortable” so that your body seems to be yelling out “STOP!” with every knee bend or ankle extension, it can be hard to continue. “Why am I doing this?” is a question continuously boiling in your mind. “I haven’t committed any deplorable sin that needs to be pardoned”. “This isn’t the Middle Ages anymore; we have cars now than can take me to Santiago!” “Is excessive soreness considered an injury?” Of course, then I think about the 75 yr-old Italian who has been walking from France and feel guilty for even thinking these ideas. “Why am I doing this? Because I can!” “No, you don’t need to cleanse your soul, but you can grow from this experience, and it’s always good to be safe (you never know when the next predicted rapture or apocalypse will be correct)”. “Yes, this isn’t the Middle Ages anymore, so be thankful you have shoes on your feet and a mattress at night!” “You can’t be hurting any more than everyone else, especially the older ones, so toughen up and keep walking.” Of course, then I come across another mile marker…“Ugh! 12 more km to go today”….and the cycle repeats itself, haha.

Around 5pm I arrived in Ribadiso, our final destination for the day. Ribadiso is a beautiful spot that is so small it probably shouldn’t even be called a town. It has a population of 10 people. It consists of an albergue, a restaurant/bar, and maybe a couple houses for the bar owner and workers. The albergue is situated along a small stream and is very picturesque. When we arrived, we laid out on the grass to rest and some people dared to go waist-deep into the freezing cold water. I preferred the sun. With Lindsey who I had become friends with the day before, and the three Spanish guys, we walked to the patio of the restaurant/bar and had a few drinks. And by drinks I mean I had a coca cola. It just felt so good to sit and know that I wouldn’t have to walk again for another 15 hours. It also felt good to know that we were in the middle of the countryside with nothing to stress about. This is the simple life! We also had some great conversations; everyone went around the table and shared their most embarrassing moment. (I told the story of how I got my nickname in 5^th grade of Purple Rain.)      

Soon it was time for dinner and, because we had eaten lunch before 4pm for once, I was actually hungry for dinner. We had dinner at the only restaurant in Ribadiso. Ribadiso would definitely be considered a pueblo-calle, which is the term they use for towns built exclusively as a result of the camino that, without the camino, probably wouldn’t exist. For dinner I had a mixed salad and then fish and potatoes. While the menus are the same at every place we stop at, there are usually slight differences in each dish, so ordering the same thing every night wasn’t tiring. Of course, it also helps if you’re really hungry and exhausted from a long day of pilgrimage-walking. For dessert I tried a coffee-flavored liqueur. I don’t like coffee, and I don’t really like the taste of alcohol, but for whatever reason I liked the liqueur. The camino plays crazy games with your mind!!!! While sipping on the liqueur we watched a group of about 10 Romanians playing musical chairs and singing. They were super into it and everyone inside the restaurant was captivated watching them.

As about 10 of us got into our beds to rest and chat before bed, we heard the most ridiculous conversations among other walkers. Two men were speaking in English, or attempting to, since neither of them had English as their native language. One of them was trying to ask where he got his camino passport to get stamped, while the other one was trying to ask from where he had started walking from and when. Neither of them understood the other’s questions and both of them were very determined to get an answer. Alyssa from our group went over to them to try to serve as translator, but even as she tried to explain to each man the other’s question, they continued to talk and ask their same question over and over again. We couldn’t help giggling. Then some Spanish started talking and making hilarious comments that had us close to tears from laughing. “It smells like something died in here.” Of course, they soon realized that we were listening to them, so we struck up a conversation with them and learned they were from a city not far from Alicante.

When I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, there was a girl and a guy looking at the stars and talking in broken English and Spanish. The girl was part of the Spanish group and spoke only a little English. The guy was from English and only spoke a little Spanish. Still, they were enjoying each other’s company and alternated teaching each other words in English and Spanish. I jumped in and played the role of translator. They were looking at Orion’s Belt, a constellation that Aina, the Spanish girl, hadn’t heard of. This was one of my favorite moments of the camino. Here we were: an American girl, an English guy, and a Spanish girl marveling over the stars in the middle of the countryside, following a pilgrimage that had been walked by millions before us from the time of the middle ages.

It’s hard to describe the exact emotions I was feeling at this moment, but it was something surreal. It made me feel like the world isn’t so big after all, or that we aren’t all so different. I started to think a lot about foreign relations and war and how most of us never even get to know our “enemy”. I wonder how things would be different if were we all forced to go on pilgrimage with our enemy before starting war. This could either go very wrong or very well I think; all of your true colors shine through on the camino. Either way, I think we’d have a better idea of how other people live and we wouldn’t feel so estranged from others around the world. It’s a shame that not everyone is fortunate enough to be able to travel and see the world. I feel so blessed.

Uh oh, now I’m started to go religious on you, maybe this spiritual journey is rubbing off on me. Or, as Lindsey’s mom suggested, maybe I’ve found the peace and reverence I was looking for. (Lindsey and I had a good laugh about this. Her mom is very religious and is always hoping that Lindsey will become so too. Lindsey had been texting to her mom along the camino about what she had been seeing and doing. Lindsey never made a reference to peace or reverence, at least not to her knowledge, so when her mom asked her if she had found the peace and reverence she had been looking for, she was totally confused. I told her my parents would probably be concerned if I told them I had found peace and reverence on the camino, at least if I said it in this manner. Then I got the idea to write a blog about how I had found Jesus along the camino, or to write to my parents thanking them for raising me, but that I had decided to join a monastery and was now only a daughter to the Lord.)      

El Camino de Santiago: Day 2 - Portomarín to Palas de Rei (25 km)

We awoke around 7:30am and quickly gathered our things. Most of the albergue have a check-out time of 8:00am! I was definitely feeling stiff, but it was nothing that I couldn’t stretch out. After waiting outside a restaurant for 15 minutes for it to open up (when it should have been open a half hour before), we decided to find a different place to eat. But, since the town was so small and we were such a big group, we had to split into two groups. Breakfast consisted of tea or coffee and toast with jam. (This continued to be our breakfast every morning, although most of us never lost hope that one day we would wake up to pancakes, eggs, and bacon). Only Americans really know how to do breakfast.

By 9am we were on the trail again, which started with a steep hill. The group began to break up into smaller groups fairly quickly, as we all had our own preferred pace. About an hour or two into our walking I was just it was going to rain. It was windy and the clouds ahead were grey and heavy. All we got were a few drops though. Still, it was plenty cold and I was glad that I had my fleece with me.  

What’s great about the camino is that everyone comes from all around the world with the same goal in mind. Their reasons for doing the camino vary, and it’s a very interesting question to ask other pilgrims. Everyone is super friendly and talkative (despite the language barriers). I met a sweet Belgium woman, probably in her 60s, traveling with her husband and friends in a group. We spoke a bit in French and continued to exchange greetings and smiles for the next three days as we saw each other. I also met a man from Switzerland who was traveling with a group of individuals from all over the world. Apparently one of them had a fight with his wife and started walking from his doorstep….in France! Another was a 75-yr-old Italian who walks from 8 to 12 everyday and had been doing so far a couple weeks by then.

Around 1 or 1:30 I arrived in our next stopping point, Palas de Rei. About an hour later everyone had arrived. Those of us who had arrived earlier bunkered down on a set of stairs and enjoyed having our picture taken (“look, real pilgrims!”) by tourists traveling by tour bus.   

Again we broke up into two groups to check in to two different albergues. The albergue I stayed in reminded me more of a hostel: it had 3 floors with rooms for 6 – 12 people. We had a room to ourselves…except for one woman. (And it just so happened that this woman was a snorer. I put my earplugs in before going to sleep for preventative measures, so luckily I wasn’t bothered to badly. Others weren’t so lucky however).

Once again, we were all famished and ready for lunch. And once again, the bread was devoured immediately. For a first plate I had a green salad (nothing special, but somehow tasted incredible). My main course was sole with potatoes and normally could feed a family of four. I put a sizeable dent into though. Dessert options were the similar to yesterday: flan, pudding, yogurt, or ice cream, so I passed.

For the afternoon, we all laid in our beds, talking, reading, or stretching. By now my legs were started to really feel the distance. Walking up and down stairs was painful and many of us had an awkward limp. If this is what feeling old feels like, I think I’ll stay young forever.

At seven a small group of us went to visit the church and four of us stayed for Easter mass, my first Easter mass ever! I can’t really compare it to anything, since this was the third mass of my life, but it was nice. More praying and singing, and more crackers in the mouth. Us four girls were slightly distracted though because the man sitting in front on us get turning around and staring at us. This poor little boy was sitting next to him and getting stared at as well. He was terrified and clutching his dad’s arm the whole service. (We think he wasn’t completely right in the head.) One man even came up to us afterwards and said that he had been watching the guy the whole time, just in case, and that essentially, he had our backs.

Directly afterwards we went to dinner. Since we had finished eaten lunch around 5pm, I really was hungry. So, I dined on fruit – bananas and kiwis. Just after ten we got back to the albergue to find that it was locked up for the night: 10pm curfew. The camino schedule is very different from the rest of Spain. Whereas at home my mom wakes up on the weekends around 11am and goes to bed around 2am, here everyone’s asleep by 10 or 10:30 and out walking by 9am. Fortunately, I checked the back door and this was still unlocked, phew. Then, sleep.         

El Camino de Santiago: Day 1 - Sarria to Portomarín (22.4 km)

When I woke up from a fairly restful night of sleep, was still feeling under the weather. This was either the worst case of motion sickness ever, or I just happened to come down with the flu while on the bus. Either way, I wasn’t too thrilled about throwing on my pack and walking twelve miles. We first went to eat breakfast at a small restaurant down the street. Breakfast was simple: toast and jam with coffee or tea. Everyone else was hoping for eggs and bacon (in Spain, this is everyone’s dream – an American breakfast), but for me this was perfect. After eating I felt considerably better. At this point, I realized that I was probably feeling sick and weak because I had drunk less than a cup of water the day before, and had eaten very little.

Next we packed up our sleeping bags and got in the bus one last time. The guides promised me it would be a short ride and I prayed that it would be. Twenty or so minutes later we arrived in Sarria, our starting point for the camino. Sarria is a fairly popular spot to begin the camino because it is the first city before the 100km marker to Santiago, which is the minimum required distance to walk if you want to receive your compostela (which is a certificate of completion, more or less). There’s not much to say about the town; we just drove through it on the bus to get to the path of the camino. So, the bus driver pulled up along a curb and we got off. It was at this point that I realized that my butt was wet. It had rained so much the day before that a leak had begun in the roof of the bus just above the seat I chose to sit in. Haha, if I were more religious, I would say that God didn’t want me to take this pilgrimage. Or maybe, it was the devil trying to prevent me from walking to my salvation? But, I’m not more religious, so I just kept walking and hoped for a light breeze to dry my bum.

We watched the bus drive away, knowing we wouldn’t be seeing it again until Santiago. It was a strange feeling. Most of us had butterflies in our stomach, a kind of nervous excitement about what lay ahead of us.   

So, the walking begins. The camino path today was a combination of a dirt path and paved road. It started in a wooded area, where we saw the “famous tree” that is over 1,000 years old. Well, it looks like more of a stump than a tree, but still pretty cool. The landscape was beautiful and reminding me of Switzerland. It’s very green in northern Spain. This day I saw beautiful rolling hills of tall grass, small rock walls marking boundaries, cows, tiny villages of about 3 homes and a café for pilgrims passing by.

After an hour of so we took a bathroom break at one of these cafes and got our first stamp on our camino passport. All pilgrims who plan on receiving their compostela (certificate of completion) in Santiago need to carry with them a camino passport and get stamps in it at various locations along the way to prove they actually walked. You only really need to get a stamp at the albergues (hostels) that you are staying at each night, but it is fun to get them when you can because each stamp is unique and serves as a small reminder of each place you visit.

At the halfway mark the entire group stopped to rest and regroup. Because there is only one way to go on the camino, and it is clearly marked, we are allowed to separate ourselves during the day and walk at our own pace. Since it was the first day though, they wanted us to regroup before the end point. The break was nice; we refilled water bottles, ate fruit, nuts, sandwiches for energy, and continued on our way. By this time the sun had come out so we were all in t-shirts and shorts. I don’t think it was actually that warm, because our arms and legs were cold to the touch, but walking made us sweat. The path today was fairly flat, so today was more of a walk than a hike, however carrying a heavy pack on your back makes it a bit more tolling.

At around 2pm we arrived at our final destination of the day: Portomarín. As you arrive in Portomarín, you cross a long bridge (more than350 meters long) that passes over a river below (Rio Miño). Portomarín is a small town that has been transferred from the lower river basin to higher ground. In the 1960s the river was damned to create a reservoir, putting the old village under water. The most historic buildings of the town were moved to higher ground, brick by brick. The entrance to the town, for example, is made of one of the arcs from the old Romano-medieval bridge that exists as a foot bridge today under the modern, new bridge that stretches high above it.   

After walking just a few blocks into we arrived at our first albergue (hostel). Since we were a group of 20, we mostly stayed at private albergues (public albergues don’t allow reservations and usually have a limit of 10 people in a group). As far as I can tell though, there doesn’t seem to be any significant difference between public and private albergues, at least not that I could tell. This albergue had one large room of about 100 bunk beds with a curtain partitioning the space into rooms of about 20 bunks. There was one women’s bathroom and one men’s bathroom, each with about 3 showers. (Fortunately, this didn’t seem to be too big of a problem. I had hot water, although I had to push the button every 10 seconds to keep the water running).

A half hour later, which seem like much longer at the time, we walked up the street to a café for lunch. After a breakfast of toast at 8am and five hours of walking, at 3pm we were all starving. When the bread and water finally came out, it was a sight to see! We all looked like someone had put a pot of gold before us, only better, because we could eat it, haha. To my surprise, they also brought out bottles of wine and pitchers of beer. (Up until now we hadn’t been allowed to order alcoholic drinks when we traveled with the CIEE program. Even though the drinking age is 18 here, they feel a little uneasy about giving alcohol to students who are still minors in the U.S.). It’s a good thing out first course didn’t take to long to come out, otherwise I think a few of us would have gotten tipsy sipping on wine (or gulping down beer) with empty stomachs. I ordered the traditional Gallego soup for my first course. It’s basically potato, leek/spinach (something green), broth, and bits of bacon. It was very salty had a strong bacon flavor, but I gulped in down. If I hadn’t been so hungry, I probably wouldn’t have liked it at all. It’s funny, when you are hungry and have been waiting for food, everything tastes amazing. My second course was hake with potatoes. (Everything in Galicia is accompanied with potatoes.) I can’t exactly be a very good judge of the taste of the dish, but to me it tasted delicious. The comida in Spain is usually big, but on the camino the portions are enormous. I guess they know we’re all hungry hikers. Still, only a few people were able to clean their plates.

After lunch we walked back down to the albergue to relax and put up our feet. Of our group of 20 only about 6 of us were in the same camino class. The others are in the other Spanish levels of our program, so I didn’t know them. We also had a guide (Alfonso), a student helper (Spanish alumni of the University, named German), and his two friends (Miriam and Alberto). Our albergue had some chairs and tables outside with a beautiful view of the river below and, since it had warmed up quite a bit from the morning, it was the perfect spot to rest. I had a great conversation with two other girls and German about showering and how we considered it a hassle more than anything and showered only when we needed to. He couldn’t believe that we all felt the same way…and then proceeded to joke with us and made sure we all showered throughout the entire camino, haha. Then it was our turn to be surprised. He began to argue with us that Madrid paella and Valencia paella taste distinctly differently simply because the water is different. Even if all the ingredients and conditions except the water are the same, you can note a difference, which is why Valencia paella is the best. A Spanish man from Madrid was sitting next to us and overheard our conversation. We asked him his opinion but he remained neutral saying he hadn’t tried paella from Valencia. We joked with German about this the rest of the camino too. For example, “I wonder how paella would taste if made using holy water.”

Without knowing it, a couple hours had gone by and it was time to take a small trip with the group to the local church. (Tutu – you will be happy to know that this was an educational trip, one that road scholars would approve of). The church, La Iglesia de San Juan, was originally built in the 8^th century, but was moved brick by brick once the dam was built. It has elements of Romanic and gothic architecture (a half circle arched entrance and a rosette window). The entrance has a beautiful façade, one that, looking now, I had taken a better look at. (The façade mimics the famous façade in the cathedral of Santiago, which is currently under construction and almost completely covered in plastic tarp and scaffolding).

For dinner we had the option of either going out to eat dinner at the same place for lunch or going to the supermarket and eating a picnic style dinner. I choose to go for the picnic style dinner and it was delicious! I asked them to buy a jar of garbanzos beans for me (good protein source) since I wasn’t going to be eating any yogurt or ham and I got the strangest look. (Apparently you don’t eat garbanzo beans alone in Spain; they go in a soup or something of the sort). Nonetheless they bought the jar and every single chickpea got eaten.

At about 10pm we were all in bed, exhausted. The snoring that night woke me up, but fortunately I had remembered to put my ear plugs in an easily accessible spot. This helped dampen the noise, but it was hard to fall back asleep. Snoring is such a funny phenomenon; some of the noises that I heard from snorers throughout the camino literally had me laughing out loud! (A little of this was probably nervous laughter wondering if the person was choking on something or had stopped breathing). Well, at least it made for good conversation the next day and broke the ice in our group a bit as we all began to point fingers at whom we suspected was the culprit.  

Terremoto en Lorca

Hola a todos,

Mom me pido que pongo algo sobre el terremoto de ayer. El terremoto estaba en Lorca, una ciudad aproximadamente una hora por coche de Alicante. Yo senti el terremoto, estaba en mi habitacion pero era muy muy pequena. Tuve que preguntar a una amiga mia por facebook para asegurarme que en verdad era un terremoto. Entoces, estoy bien. Lo que me asusto un poco era los fotos que han puesto por la internet. Habia mucha danos en algunos edificios (probable porque estan tan viejos) y habia 10 muertos. Habia fotos tambien de los muertos que han fallecido en la calles.

Gracias para todas sus preguntas, me hice feliz saber que tengo tanta gente pensando en mi!

El Camino de Santiago: getting to point A

The Camino de Santiago is the third most well known pilgrimage in the world (after Mecca and Jerusalem). The pilgrimage has been in place for over 1,000 years and consists of several routes (depending on where you’re coming from). All of the routes, however, have one final ending point: Santiago de Compostela – the cathedral in Santiago, Spain that holds the tomb of Apostle St. James (Santiago in Spanish).  

This semester I have been taking a class all about the history of the Camino de Santiago (The Way of St. James in English), the legends about how Apostle Santiago was transported to Spain, the discovery of his body, the history of Spain, including the Muslim invasions and the Spanish Reconquista. When also studied various architectural styles, feudalism in Spain, the Black Death, and life during the Middle Ages. This has been, by far, my most interesting class. While the spring break trip on the Camino that I just finished was not a required part of the class, I can’t imagine not having capitalized on this opportunity to see with my own eyes what we had been studying all semester. And, although I’m not super religious or even somewhat religious, I thought it couldn’t hurt to have all my sins pardoned (one of the main reasons peregrines started making the pilgrimage centuries ago.)

Lots of pilgrims start at the Puente de la Reina, which is about 15 days from Santiago. Since we only had one week off for spring break, however, we started much closer to the finish, 111km from Santiago. (The minimum requirement to receive your “compostela” where you are certified as a true pilgrim is 100 km). Our journey would be split up into 8 days. Two days for travel, 1 day in Santiago, and 5 days walking.

As you may have noticed, I’m writing in English. This for two reasons: first, I am seriously behind in my blogs and need to write about the camino before I forget any details. Secondly, I am worried that my limited Spanish would inhibit my ability to share and describe the experiences I had on the camino: I had enough trouble learning about the Turkey-Dog scale without it being in Spanish, so I won’t burden you with this task either. Oh, the conversations that arise after spending too much time with the same people in the countryside!   

Getting There:

At 8 o’clock in the morning 19 students and I got on a bus for the longest bus ride of my life! We were expecting 20 students; however one of the girls didn’t show. No one had her cell number and we couldn’t wait any longer, so we left without her. We later learned that she thought we were meeting up at 9am instead of 8am! This was my worst nightmare, such that I could hardly sleep the entire night before. I did, however, almost commit my other worst nightmare – forgetting my tennis shoes. I was out the door almost out of my apartment building when I realized, “I’m not wearing my tennis shoes, and they’re not in my pack either”. What a mess that would have been! I know that the first pilgrims walked the camino without shoes, but I wasn’t planning on being quite so…traditional. (Fortunately, I didn’t forget my shoes, or anything else important.)  

Getting on the bus with everything on the packing list was only my first of many challenges of the day, however. After about 3 hours of bus-riding, I decided to take a nap to catch up on the sleep I didn’t get the night before. Because we had an entire tour bus for 20 people, I had two seats to myself and was able to lie down my head on the seat next to me. This seemed like a great idea at the time: fall asleep and wake up when we get there. The problem came to my notice when I woke up less than an hour later with a sudden need to throw up. As quickly as I could I dumped the contents out of my sack lunch, ran to the first row of open seats, and looked at the road. Just a little too late though; thank goodness Spain uses plastic bags instead of brown paper bags to hold their lunches. While I was already 3 hours into the bus trip, I still had 9 hours to go. And each of these 9 hours was completely miserable.

From this point forward I continued to feel nauseous and could get over my motion sickness, even with the frequent rest stops every couple of hours. When we finally arrived at the hostel for the night it was already 9pm. We had literally spent the entire day in the hostel. I didn’t know where we were or what our plans were for the next morning, but I knew that there was a bed for me and that is where I went. The others went out for dinner but I didn’t even want to think about food. I crawled into my sleeping bag, took a few sips of a PowerAde that one of the guide’s gave to me to drink, and prayed that when I woke up in the morning I would feel better. Oh, and I forgot to mention – during almost the entire bus ride, it was raining buckets outside and even turned to hail at times. So, you could say I was feeling a little less enthusiastic about the camino that evening than earlier in the morning. (“Please don’t let tomorrow be another Day 3 Inca Trail” I kept thinking to myself.)

Los KKK reparten caramelos ahora

Hay procesiones y pasos que pasan por las calles cada día durante semana santa. Sevilla es probable la ciudad más conocida por sus pasos y celebraciones, pero Alicante tiene procesiones con pasos muy impresionantes también. Porque tuve tantas clases durante lunes y martes, y porque no hacia bien tiempo, no fui a otra celebración de semana santa hasta el miércoles. El miércoles fui con mi madre y tres hermanas a la iglesia Santa María que está en el centro viejo de Alicante. Llegamos más que una hora antes del inicio de la procesión porque es muy popular y queremos una buena vista. Cada ano mi familia va a este procesión y cada ano mi hermana Irene llora cuando sale el paso de Nuestra Señora de los Dolores. No sabía casi nada de esta celebración, entonces está muy sorprendido cuando vi la gente vestido en túnicas blancas y mujeres vestido en negro como viudos, y una banda entera, y hombres con “turbantes”  para llevar los pasos en la cabeza y los hombros. También había muchas cameras de los medios de comunicación y noticias. 

Bueno, después mucha anticipación, la procesión empezó. Primero, una banda salió con tambores, trompetas, y trombones. Luego, los niños salieron. Los niños llevaron túnicas blancas (sin gorros) con bultos enormes en frente de sus estómagos. Aprendí rápidamente que estos bultos fueron bolsillos llenos de caramelos. (Y ahora, me di cuenta porque mi hermana de nueve anos era tan emocionada por un procesión religiosa. Un poco tiempo ella tuvo un bulto enorme a causa de caramelos en sus bolsillos.) Después los niños fueron los adultos, que se llaman “Nazarenos”, también vestido de túnicas blancas. Ellos tenían sombreros cónicos, que se llaman “capirotes”,  exactamente iguales de los Ku Klux Klan para esconder las caras de los penitentes. Aunque yo se que ellos no tenían ningún relación con el KKK, no podía resistir mis sentimientos de temer sobre ellos. Tuve la piel de gallina cuando pasaron. Justamente después, habían penitentes llevando la misma ropa, pero en colores brillantes: rojo, verde, amarillo, y negro. En términos de me malestar, estos muchachos me asusté menos.

Próximo a salir de la iglesia fueron las mujeres vestido en negro. Se llevan vestidos negros, tacones negros, medias negros, y la mantilla - lo más claro y impresionante parte de sus trajes. Las mantillas son pañuelos de seda o encaje y son hechos a mano. Las mantillas se llevan por la parte superior de la cabeza con una peineta (un peine grande). No sé si estas mujeres suponen que se vea como si fueron de luto o no, pero si eso era el intento, ellas fueron demasiado hermosas.

Por fin, los pasos salieron. Primero, el paso del “Descendimiento de La Cruz”. La escena de este paso era Jesús en la cruz. He visto unos pasos en el museo de Murcia hace unas semanas, pero ver un paso saliendo de una iglesia, arriba de los hombres de treinta hombres, es algo completamente diferente. Cada hombre fue haciendo muecas y gruñidos a causa del peso y era como si cada hombre se sentía agobiado por la muerte de Jesús y que se pesaron por los pecados de los demás que él llevaba.

Luego vino el paso de “Nuestra Señora de Los Dolores” y ese paso evocaban aun más sentimientos de los espectadores. Porque este paso es tan grande, no se puede salir de la iglesia fácilmente. Los costaleros, la gente que lleva el paso en sus hombros, deben ponerse sobre las rodillas. Cubierto por una cortina, el paso parece que está moviendo por su mismo. Como implica el titulo del paso, la escena trata de la Virgen María justo después la muerte de Jesús. Su base estaba cubierto en flores blancos, la mayoría rosas. Más arriba había candelas blancas encendidas. Luego, había la virgen, más grande que tamaño natural. Ella estaba vestida en un manto hermoso que extendía a pocos metros detrás de ella. El manto estaba azul con costura de oro y tenía unos cientos anos. Más arriba de ella había un dosel de plata de ley.

Tan pronto como el paso estaba fuera de la puerta de la iglesia, un sacerdote empezó a llorar unas palabras sobre el sufrimiento de la virgen y toda la gente estaba callada. Mi hermana Irene empezó a llorar (que lo hace cada año a este punto). Al fin de sus palabras, de repente, los costaleros levantan de sus rodillas y la Virgen alcanza por el cielo. También a este punto, pétalos de rosas caen del parte superior del techo de la iglesia, y otra banda de estudiantes toca música. Todo esto junto crea un sorprendente evento que parece a nada que he visto antes en mi vida. No puedo imaginar cómo me sentiría si yo fuera religiosa.              

Una semana de pascua, empezando con domingo de ramos

Cuando pienso en pascua en los Estados Unidos, las cosas que aparecen en mi mente son imágenes de Peeps, conejos de chocolate, búsquedas de huevos, y tal vez un gran cena de jamón. Mientas se puedo encontrar jamón durante pascua en España, eso es menos por el día de pascua que por una régimen diario de jamón. Y, aunque se puede encontrar a veces conejos de chocolate en los mercados y pañerías, las dulces son un pequeña parte de pascua en España. La verdad es que pascua en EEUU es muy diferente que pascua aquí en España. Mientras se celebra pascua por un día en EEUU y una grande parte de la gente se celebra sin hacer referencias religiosas, en España se celebra durante una semana (semana santa) y es un asunto muy religioso. Yo sé que hay algunos americanos que traten pascua como una fiesta religiosa, que se van a misa y que se dejan algo importante por los cuarenta días antes por cuaresma. Pero, en España, aún los menos religiosos celebran pascua con sentimientos religiosos.

El inicio de semana santa empieza el domingo antes del domingo de pascua y se llama domingo de ramos. Fui con mi familia a su iglesia para la misa, mi primera misa en España y mi secunda misa en mi vida. La tradición en España, especialmente en Valencia, durante domingo de ramos es ir a la iglesia para la misa llevando palmeras. Las palmeras normalmente son ramas con son alrededor de cinco pies de altura. Pero, Alicante tiene un elemento más artístico en sus palmeras. Elche, una ciudad que ya he visitado y que es más o menos treinta minutos de Alicante por coche, tiene el más grande palmeral (huerto de palmeras) por toda Europa. Y, en esta ciudad, existe una legacía de artesanos que saben cómo hacer formas bonitos de palmas, tejando y trenzando una ramo con otra. Mi madre compró cuatro pequeñas palmas en formas exquisitas para yo y mis tres hermanas. La mía parece a dos rosas y un tallo. Se lleva como una chapa. La iglesia de mi familia no es muy impresionante como los catedrales que he visto. Es moderna y toma la forma de un barco. Dentro hay bancos y vidrieras.

La misa empieza a fuera con el sacerdote que cantó una oración y luego llevó a los asistentes de la iglesia alrededor de la iglesia mientras cantando junto a la música de la radio que llevaba sobre sus hombros. Entré en la iglesia con Irene y mi mama y nos sentamos juntas en un banco mientras Eva y Andrea se sentaron delante con los otros niños en el suelo. El sacerdote encontró su lugar y empezó a leer de la Biblia. Aunque no podía escuchar ni entender todo, lo que he entendido era interesante. Además, podía mirar las expresiones en las caras de los demás y los movimientos de los niños inquietos agitando sus palmas en el aire. (No sé por qué son los niños de las familias que mantienen las palmas. Ellos no saben cómo a controlar las ramas que tiene más altura que ellos mismos y muchas veces yo esquivó por un lanzo dirigida por mis ojos.)

El sacerdote pasa tiempo recitando la biblia, hablando de sus propias palabras, y cantando donde la gente cantaba también. Luego el sacerdote bebí la sangre de Jesús en forma de vino y su  cuerpo en forma de una galleta, igual que lo vi en las películas. De este punto, los asistentes tenían la oportunidad a hacer una comunión donde recibían una galleta en la boca. Mi madre me preguntó si quería ir delante pero por suerte, he preguntado sobre qué era y nos damos cuenta que no podía porque nunca tuve mi primer comunión. (¡Que pecado casi cumplí yo!)

La misa dura más que una hora en total, casi una hora y media, pero mi madre me dijo que normalmente la misa dura solo cuarenta minutos o menos. Aunque no busqué una cercanidad con Jesús dentro la iglesia ni un deseo a cambiar mi vida poco religiosa, era una experiencia muy interesante y ahora tengo mucho más conocimiento de la vida religiosa en España. Y de esta experiencia y otras como la visita del museo de los pasos en Murcia, estoy aprendiendo mucho más sobre la religión católica y me encuentro por el internet buscando más información sobre lo que estoy viendo con mis propios ojos para entender más sobre lo que estoy mirando. Por ejemplo, ahora yo sé que se llama domingo de los ramos porque ese día era cuando Jesús llegó a Jerusalén y la gente pusieron ramas delante de él en el suelo para cubrir su camino como un muestro de respeto.