Monday, September 24, 2012

September 24th

This day is momentous.  It is a year since something big and breathtaking and irreversable happened in my life.  I'm not going to tell you about it, but I will say that the heavens worked really hard to bring me to today from last year.  And they even gave me a bonus surprise.  Today was the day Sofia and I reached the iron cross at the highest point of the Camino.  It is there that people drop a rock onto a huge pile, leaving behind a burden, perhaps, or adding a bit of weight to the eternal scales in their favor.  I wanted to leave behind the past year for good, and to that end, Sofia had brought me a rock from home that I could drop at the foot of the cross.  I've been carrying it this whole way in my first aid ziplock baggie. 
Turns out my first aid ziplock baggie had a hole in it. 
And my rock was lost. 

I climbed the pile of debris at the cross this afternoon, rockless, thinking about what in the world this moment meant.  And I figured it out.

I've been carrying a burden of pain and hurt and anger.  But somewhere along the way, I dropped it.  And I don't need to elaborately leave it anywhere special.  I just need to keep walking.

Another Enchanting Moment

This time in Burgos. 
A bunch of pilgrims were congregated at outdoor seating for this one bar in the city's main square, presided over by the impressive florid gothic cathedral.  Sofia and I had wandered our way over, following Flo and Noah, a girl from Israel.  The Dutch pilgrims were there, along with Paul and Decklyn (a duo we've been playing trail tag with), and so we sat and watched everyone ordering more beers and getting louder and happier by the minute.  Sofia was talking to Paul, but I was feeling quiet so kept a bit to myself.  Then I had to pee (a very common occurence for me on the Camino), so I went to the bathroom in the bar.  When I was done, I took my time wandering back outside.
Then it happened.
Standing in the doorway of the bar, I was suddenly enthralled with the enormous sensation that was filling my ears.  The cathedral bells were ringing.  No, they weren't just ringing; they were rolling in majestic peals of sound.  The bells themselves weren't just swinging back and forth, they were tumbling in complete circles, around themselves, over and over.  The notes were pitching, piping, rumbling in a cacophony that at one moment clanged in dissonance and the next pushed forward with a determined melody.  There was one deep note reverberating through it all; I could feel it in my ribcage. 
I stood in the doorway and gaped.  The cathedral was right in front of me, huge, imposing, and suddenly alive.  I walked closer, hoping that no one would see me.  Louder and louder.  I felt like I was being called to something.  Every moment the bells were making a different sound, but there was a rhythm and a pattern to it;  now clanging, now bounding upwards, now organized into definite music. 
I listened and listened as the bells went on and on, wondering somewhere underneath what I was listening for.  If those bells were magic, I would have turned around and found myself in the city square of medieval Burgos.  I even peeked over my shoulder once, just in case the magic was waiting for me. 
In the end, the bells tapered off, and I walked back to my group.  Sofia was wondering where I was.  One of the girls was complaining about the sound of the bells.  I felt like I was the only one who heard them, after all.

Water

I need to keep hydrated, but I don't like drinking water.  I don't think it tastes very good, especially when it is super-bland bottled water or strange-tangy tap water.  And I just don't think about drinking until noon, when I realize all I've had was a cup of cammomille tea and maybe 150 mL from my water bottle.  I end up guzzling the rest of the water from my bottle as if it were the foulest medicine, gasping like a marathon runner after every gulp.  Sofia makes fun of me.  And THEN I have to pee like a fiend at very inconvenient intervals along the trail!  It is a miracle that I'm not shrivelled up like a raisin by now.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Also Enchanting

One of the nights shortly after leaving Burgos, Sofia, Flo, and I are camped out in a field.  We didn't set up our tents because the sky was perfectly clear.  The night turned out to be also terribly cold and we all ended up huddled together.  Sofia actually crawled into my sleeping bag in the morning.  But that wasn't the enchanting part. 

As the sky got darker and darker, more and more stars appeared.  I've always heard of this moment in traveler's stories.  They get to a place where the brightly lit human world is so withdrawn that the sky unveils it's nocturnal glories.  But I had never seen it before, and I had never suspected it would be so breath-taking, even though they all say it is.  Stars and stars and more stars!  Bright, distinct stars and clumps of hazy glowing stars.  Stars that twinkled, stars that fell.  They pierced the dark with a million points of brilliance.  No wonder men have always watched them, counted them, mapped them, told stories of them.  I could scarcely bear to shut my eyes to fall asleep.  And when I woke up in the night, with Flo skootched close on one side and Sofia breathing deeply on the other, I just stared at the stars.  I was alone (relatively), it was dark and still and cold, and I could not get bored of the sky.  Oddly enough, I didn't feel small, compared to that vast expanse.  I felt at the center of it.  I felt like the sole audience of a universal show, blessed to have the perfect view.  The stars, they loved me.  And I loved them.

The Ants

Yesterday Sofia and I camped at this town called Hospitales de Obig...something.  We had heard from a German friend who has a guidebook with insider hints that the river there was a popular swimming spot for pilgrims, and I was determined to enjoy a lovely nude night swim.  In preparation of this exciting idea, Sofia and I walked up and down the banks of the river, trying to find a good spot where the water was deep enough and the edge clear enough.  To be clear, Sofia did not want to swim in a strange river in the middle of the night one bit.  But she was ready to support me and come with me to make sure I didn't drown while naked.  I have a good sister. 

Let me paint a picture for you:  Evening light filtering through the neat rows of poplar trees.  A small path at the top of a narrow earthen bank.  Brush and bushes and scrappy trees between the path and the water, except at odd intervals where a tiny and steep drop to the water had been cleared. 
Sofia and I had just finished an over-30k day, and we were walking like old women.  I was the oddest looking, surely, with my inconcruous black skirt, red Toms with the backs folded down under my blistered heels, and the way I was gripping my walking stick in one hand like it was the only reason I was still upright.  No one was around, thank goodness.

We were walking slowly, commenting that the shallowness of the water wouldn't make for good skinnydipping, and we stopped at one spot that might have been promising except for the green algae and the swarms of bugs floating on the water's surface.  Suddenly, my feet felt odd.  I looked down and FREAKED OUT as my shoes and feet were swarmed with little black ants.  I couldn't tell if they were biting me or not, but I didn't pause to figure it out.  I kicked one shoe off without thinking and it flew...over the embankment...towards the river...and out of sight.  Crap.
I don't know if any of you have seen me when I'm in an entirely unexpected situation, but in the safe company of Sofia I was squealing like a baby. 
My shoe, my shoe!  The ants, the ants! 
Sofia went after my shoe (risking life and limb!) and I killed all the ants on my other foot.  Only then could I relax, though I still had the heebiejeebies.  My shoe hadn't made it into the water; it had landed in the bushes, suspended only inches from the river.  Phew.  I wasn't bit by any of the ants.  Phew.  Maybe I overreacted.  Maybe.  But I take care not to stand on any ant-highways or ant hills these days. 

Oh, and swimming didn't happen.  I didn't feel like traversing unknown terrain in the dark, pushing through spider's webs, pond scum, and swarms of water bugs, only to stand in knee-deep water in the moonlight.  Call me a coward and I'll surprise you with some of my ant friends in an inconvenient place..

Friday, September 21, 2012

Soundtrack

Something has changed within me  
Something is not the same 
I'm through with playing by the rules  
Of someone else's game 
Too late for second-guessing  
Too late to go back to sleep 
It's time to trust my instincts  
Close my eyes and leap! 


I'm through accepting limits  
'cause someone says they're so  
Some things I cannot change  
But till I try, I'll never know!  
Too long I've been afraid of 
Losing love I guess I've lost  
Well, if that's love 
It comes at much too high a cost! 
And if I'm flying solo 
At least I'm flying free. 

I'd sooner try 
Defying gravity

No Camera

My camera broke.  No more pictures.  Unless...unless there is a miracle.

At This Very Moment

...I am completely naked except for my sleeping bag.  Through some laziness on my part in the past week, I have run out of clean clothes!  This, despite wearing the same clothes for two or three days in a row..  What is a pilgrim to do? 
When I took a shower, Sofia took my clothes to get washed and dried (thank goodness there is a dryer), and when I got out of the shower, I just got into my sleeping bag!  It unzips at the bottom so I can walk and has a drawstring around the top that I've tightened just under my arms.  I feel like the Little Mermaid (red hair and all!) when she crawls out of the sea and wraps herself in an old sail.  Warning to everyone, though:  I haven't shaved my pits in quite some time, so the sleeveless look is a bit perilous.  I suppose I am lucky that this albergue separates girls' and boys' sleeping areas and that there is an internet room right off the girls dormitory.  So far my scandlous (and fluffy) new style is a secret from the world.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

also...

Sofia and I aren't fighting anymore.  We have gotten good at this sister thing

Enchanting

There was a city with a river.  The banks of the river had a grove of poplars planted in straight rows.  And the water was rushing and cold and clear.  I took off my boots, peeled off my socks, held up my skirt, and crossed over to the island right in the middle.  It had a small rocky beach and a long stand of trees.  I tiptoed in and peed in the bushes.  I felt like Huckleberry Finn.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

A Little Camino Fling

I found a boy to hold hands with on the Way.  He has nice strong hands.  He's French.  We sometimes speak French.  He makes delicious pasta and he doesn't think I smell bad, even after a day or two without a shower.  (Yeah.)  He has very nice blue eyes because his mother was the illegitamate child of a visiting Dutchman.  And he likes to kiss my cheek, which I appreciate.
He is a Wanderer, just like the song, with a girl in each town (literally), so I haven't started daydreaming.  He only believes in monogamy for the making and raising of children, which he wants to do in an eco-village (commune style).  So, yeah, this is just for now, Dad; don't start planning the wedding.  And Dideric, don't look at me like that.  A girl needs a hand to hold sometimes.  Just until the 24th when he is done.  That's all.  :)

The Way Of The Flies

No one ever mentioned the flies.

Spain is infested.  Every day we fight for the right to nap in the shade, jostling with the millions of tiny fly bodies that apparently can't land anywhere else.  They crawl around your legs.  They buzz over your head.  They land on your lips, for goodness' sake; tiny fly kisses which tickle like mad.  They even (and this is nasty) crawl around our blisters.  *repressed shiver* 
They aren't repelled by our super-duper-strong bug repellant.  They aren't intimidated by our threats, not even when Sofia stops in her tracks, stops her foot, and shouts that she will (and I quote) "punch all you flies in the face".  I don't know if the Spanish have just gotten used to them.  Or perhaps Spainish people have developed a special symbiotic relationship with the flies, which would explain their unnatural abundance.
It is enough to drive any sane person who walks the Camino (which, I know, tests the definition of the word "sane") absolutely batty.

If anyone has the desire to walk the Way, please first consider the flies.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

This Afternoon

We walked into Beldorado under a blazing sun and waited out the heat under a pavilion in the middle of the main square until we start to find a place to camp with some friends.
Delicious double chocolate ice cream on a stick.  Salty pringles, too.
Taking off the shoes.  Ah..
My feet are flexible again!  I can point my toes!
And then there is nothing to do but nap in the shade.  How lovely and langorous.
Waking up with Man of La Mancha in my head, lazily watching the dappled light of the leaves that surround the pavilion and make me feel like I´m sleeping in a tree house.
Stretching, smiling, moving slow as molasses.

I´m enjoying myself.

Monday, September 10, 2012

The Foot Doctor

Have I mentioned that this hostel is amazing?  They have a resident volunteer foot doctor who sits and pops blisters and diagnoses people's foot problems all afternoon!  Sofia and I stopped by to see him when he was technically done, but he was nice and helped us anyway.

My main foot problem is a swollen heel tendon.  He pinched it, and I yelped.  He pushed on the skin of my arch and showed me how dehydrated I am (very).  He told me to not use the top lacing holes of my boots, to rub in anti-inflammatory cream and swallow ibuprofin three times every day, and also to drink approximately 4 times the water that I normally do.  Apparently, the more water I drink, the more flexible and pliant become my tendons and muscles and ligaments and the less stress they experience as I walk.  Whodda thunk?

In addition to foot advice, he popped blisters on both of our feet and taped them up.  He is a wizard, an artist, with medical tape!  He used a lighter to heat up the sticky side of the tape because that makes it stick better.  He was amazing.  And he didn't take our donation.

Later, he found us in the courtyard, talking to some friends.  He had brought us some Spanish hot peppers to try, saying that they would revive us on the walk if we ever felt super tired.  I tasted the tip of one, and it was certainly shocking.  The half-eaten tiny pepper is now tucked in my fanny pack.  I plan on drinking the whole day without pause.  And also using cream and pills.  Sofia has to drink more, too, and keep her feet dryer because she sweats from her feet more.  Doctor's orders.

p.s. i hope it doesn't bother you that on the one day that i have relatively unlimited computer access all i talk about is my feet.  it's a pilgrim thing.  what can i say?

Today

It is really hard for me to keep this blog up in the way in which I have been accustomed.  When we stay at hostels, the computers are generally super slow, so loading pictures is out of the question.  Sofia is usually waiting for me to be done, and the money clock is always ticking, so the two or three hours I used to take on a special post is whittled down to mere minutes.  I feel like I'm not able to say what I really want to say, is what I'm saying. 
Today is special because this hostel is amazing.  The computer is fast (a video clip loaded in about 2 minutes!) and only costs one euro an hour as opposed to the typical 2.20 euros an hour.  Also, Sofia is upstairs reading a book, we stopped early for the day, and someone left 40 minutes on the computer for me to use!  So I´m going to wax a bit reflective while I have the chance.

Yesterday marked the first day of my feet feeling a bit better.  The first two days of walking were fine, but things soon deteriorated.  I once thought that carrying a pack wasn't a big deal as long as you packed lightly and that I would be able to hike a 15 minute mile for sure.  I have been quickly taught otherwise.  Walking with a pack strains your feet beyond imagining.  One moment I can barely hobble up the stairs of a hostel to drop my pack on a bed, and the next minute Sofia and I will be strolling lazily through the city on feet sighing with relief.  I wish I had a pack animal.  A hand cart might even be a welcome change, but do not quote me on that.

The terrain, the weight, the heat, the amount you've already walked that day, AND the amount you walked the day before all affect your speed.  On my very worst day (see the video of me walking like an old lady) we made it to our stopping point in five hours, walking from 6 am to 11 am, for a total of 17 km or 10.5 miles.  In five hours.  That is approximately 2 miles an hour.  And we weren't even the slowest people to arrive.  Today we were up to about 6 km in an hour, which is more like a normal walking pace, but now Sofia's knee is twinging again. 

Which leads me to my next lesson:  You can't push yourself too hard one day, because it will mess up your next day.  My worst day occurred the day after we walked 29 km through what seemed like the desert.  We arrived in our destination at 6pm and started walking around 6am the next morning.  Twelve hours is not enough to rejuvinate the feet, especially after all we had put them through that day. 

Sofia and I are starting to see the wisdom in the typical pilgrim schedule that we had seen online and scoffed at.  Up before the sun, walk before the hottest part of the day, settle down in a hostel before one or two.  Then you shower, feel good, do laundry, eat food, take a siesta, and basically put yourself back together before the next grueling day.  That is how we have been able to feel better in the past two days.  Enjoying the camino seems much more possible under these circumstances, though we still hate the following:
1.  paved roads.  the difference on the feet from dirt paths is remarkable.
2.  industrial parks.  so boring to walk through.
3.  downhill patches.  the knees don't like them.
4.  rocky roads.  a rolled ankle would be bad.

What we do like (and I think I speak for Sofia when I say this):
1.  uphill patches.  they stretch the muscles wonderfully and have a short-term goal built in!
2.  a spot of tea in the morning.  i buy something herbal and Sofia always has some sips.
3.  small rainshowers.  they cool you off and provide dramatic views of the sky.
4.  naps.  all the Spaniards do it.  besides, nothing is open and the world is hot.  you might as well sleep.

All in all, I think we are getting the hang of it.  Maybe.  Knock on wood.  Some lady said that three weeks is a hard threshhold, and we met a Dutch lady who has walked all the way from Holland.  Eleven weeks!  And she is still hitting emotional barriers to work through.  So far, all my barriers have been purely physical.  I am not yet plagued, as Sofia is, by a lack of a "good enough" reason to get up every day.  For me it is simple: 
Why did the pilgrim walk the camino?  
To get to Santiago.

Pilgrim Fare

Sofia and I are very poor.  We haven't spent much money on fancy Spanish cuisine.  Our meals are specially devised for our protein-hungry, euro-poor, and less discerning palates.

For example, we like the combination of a can of tuna and a can of corn each.  No preparation needed and quite delicious.  Bread with cheese and salami is also good, but we aren't a huge fan of fresh Spanish bread.  Too hard and crumbly.  We were on a bean kick, but after Sofia threw them all up one night she hasn't been able to stand the sight of them.  Same goes for canned asparagus.  Pasta cooked in a hostel kitchen is a typically safe and comforting bet, though last time (through a series of extenuating circumstances) our dinner was an hour in coming and our tortellinis were floppy.  Sigh.  Last night I ate a can of meatballs and a zucchini.  We fill in all the cracks with yoghurt and fresh fruit and chocolate and water.
It is not a bad life, all things considered, though we suspect we are missing out on Tapas, whatever those are and however you order them.

We did get to see a bit of local Spanish food preparation as we passed through one town.  As we were coming over a rise in the road, we heard the sound of a blowtorch.  Odd.  Then we saw an old man blasting a rotating metal basket full of black things.  With a blowtorch.  We took a video for you:
After we expressed our curiosity and surprise, he showed us that the black things were red peppers, and he was burning the outer skin so that it would peel off easily.  Brilliant!  Across the road from his pyrotechnics, four women sat in a garage, peeling black stuff off the bright red vegetable underneath.  What a lovely communal operation in the harvesting and preserving of fresh, healthy vegetables.  That was the night that I ate a can of cold garbanzo beans with tomato sauce.  Also a can of pringles.  The comparison is most alarming.

We did get one delicious Spanish meal for free at the free parochial hostel we stayed at one night.  The nuns made an amazing rice and veggies and greens salad.  It was perfectly salted.  I ate three servings before they brought out the second course of soup.  Didn't know that was coming.  I still ate some because it was green and fresh and also perfectly salted.  Dessert was an apple for each of us.  Crispy and sweet.  Yum.  I could eat like that forever.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Pilgrim, Who Calls You?

we didn't mean to take this pic...
...we were trying for this one.  but both worked.
one thousand years of pilgrims have passed this place.
follow the yellow arrow!  there goes the way!  (downhill, naturally)
resting the feet, checking the map.  my calves are mad huge.
"Jesus walks with you"
"It's not important to see the whole path.  Just do this first step."



posers
ice cream (for me) and seltzer water (for her) after my toughest day
walking away from the city before dawn
only 576 km left!!
"Pilgrim, who calls you?  What secret power lures you on?"

That Night In Los Arcos

After the worst day ever, Sofia and I arrived in Los Arcos at around 6:00pm with a Swedish man, Rune, who had done 43 km that day.  We had done 29 and still felt pulverized.  None of the hostels had space (everything fills up before two each afternoon), so a bunch of us pilgrims were going to sleep on the lawn in front of the municipal library.  Just before we all settled in, some guy came around and told us that the lawn sprinklers were scheduled to water the lawn as 2am.  That would have been a rude awakening.  So we all moved our sleeping bags and our packs to the porch of the library.  Not very comfortable, but we made do. 

At around 11, just after I had drifted off, I awoke to a strange plunk-plinking noise that came again and again at odd intervals.  It sounded like...it sounded like little stones landing on the tiles around us!  I sat up in confusion as a couple other people looked around.  Someone was seriously throwing stones at us!!  As we all woke up, the culprits ran away, but we were mad!  Rune stood up and buttoned on his shirt, determined to do something about it.  He looked suddenly very impressive, a strapping Swedish man, ready to protect us.  He and another girl walked around, but didn't find anyone.  Hm.

A little bit later, drifting off to sleep to the sound of small children still playing outside in the middle of the night, the plunking came again!  What the heck! 
We knew what was going on, and this time Rune sat awake, waiting for them to come back.  Sure enough, I was roused a few minutes later by the sound of Rune taking off down the lawn in hot pursuit.  This is the man who just walked 43 km.  Booking it around the corner of the nearby hostel.  Next we saw him in the streetlight, escorting two boys about 15 years old down the road.  As soon as they reached the next cross street, the boys took off running, and Rune let them go. 
Stupid teenagers.  Thinking it's funny to throw rocks at exhausted pilgrims.  Rune stayed up most of the night, on patrol.  The boys came around maybe twice more, but he only needed to show himself and they disappeared.  What a night.

The best part about this story is that it has traveled through the grapevine super fast in three days.  Last night, Rune started telling the story at dinner, and a Dutch woman said she had heard it already.  We were able to say, "yeah, and Rune, here, is the guy from the story who chased those punks down!"  He is a pilgrim celebrity!

How To Walk When Your Feet Are On Fire

I walked like an old woman for 17 km.  It sucked.

Friday, September 7, 2012

Spanish Soap Opera - Playground Special

Sofia and I were eating our dinner of beans and corn out of cans at the playground in Óbana.  A boy and his sister arrived.  He was maybe 5.  Sofia pegged him as a loner because his shirt was tucked into his jeans, he was carrying a stick, and he climbed trees.  His sister was maybe 3 and just followed him around.

They were playing around this other group of kids who had a pedal-powered tractor, and something must have gone wrong because this big girl, probably also around 5 or 6, got in the little girl's face, pulling her arm back like she was going to deck the three year old square in the face!  Quick as lightning, the boy flew to his sister's side and let fly a torrent of Spanish that was full of fire.  The boy put his hand on his sister's shoulder protectively, and they turned away, but then the bigger girl SPIT at them!  There were a few more heated words exchanged, and the littlest girl tried valiently to spit back, really only succeeding on getting spit on her chin.  Eventually, the brother and sister started climbing trees again as the girl's pack of kids retreated to the other side of the park.

What drama!  Hot Spanish blood.  As witnessed on the playground. 

Now That's What You Call Ironic

Sofia asked me in Paris what I was going to wear as pajamas.  I told her that I like to sleep in my underwear, so I'll just sleep in my underwear in my sleeping bag.  Get in clothed, strip in the sleeping bag, sleep, wake up, get dressed in the sleeping bag, come out, no scandal!  Sofia was shocked.  What if there was a fire alarm?
Luckily, I told her my sleeping bag has a zipper for the feet, so I'd just unzip my feet and walk out of the building still wrapped in my sleeping bag.  Simple yet effective!  Besides, there won't be any fire alarms in the hostels.  That's just silly.

First hostel we stopped at?  2:00am?  Fire alarm. 

Of course.

It was a false alarm, but I'll have you know, my plan worked perfectly.  I just need to be sure to grab my clothes and take them with me when I exit the building..

Week One In A Nutshell

Today is Day 7.  And since internet access is more spotty than I initially thought it would be, I will here briefly outline our adventures.  Pictures added later NOW!

Day 1.  St. Jean to Roncevalles.  Started out like rockets.  All uphill.  Until it was all downhill, which was worse.  Wiped out by the end.  Feet hurt.  Hips hurt.

Day 2.  Roncevalles to just outside of Larrasoaña.  Still walking super fast and passing people right and left.  By the end, we were walking through the desert and singing through the first cd of Les Miserables.  We met up with some other campers and found a field to pitch our tents in.  I got a tiny pre-blister.  Sofia hurt her knee.  Also, we peed in the woods for the first time this trip.  Sofia enjoys it.

Day 3.  Larrasoaña to Pamplona.  We walked for several km until Sofia couldn't use her knee anymore.  Hitchhiked, took the bus, walked the last bit into the city.  We worked on lightening our packs as well.  We don't have stakes for our tent anymore, but we are heavy enough to hold it in place.  Delicious pasta dinner made by us for us to eat. 
getting her knee taped.  yay!
Day 4.  Pamplona to Óbanos.  22 km.  We pushed through the pain and we sang most of the way.  Really cool iron statue thing on the top of the Hill of Forgiveness.  We discovered that we are bad at remembering T Swift lyrics.  Best day so far, in terms of hiking and sisterhood. 

 We witnessed some childhood drama on the playground.  More on that later.
Then Sofia got food poisoning.  More on that later.

Day 5.  Óbanos to Lorca.  17 km.  Sofia worked through her nausea on the road.  She bought a walking stick in Puenta la Reina.  We napped in Cirauqui (the cutest little medieval hilltop town that I want to live in someday) and walked on a Roman road.  We camped on our own for the first time, quite afraid of being caught and fined exhorbiant amounts of money.  The moon shone like a flashlight all night.
new walking stick

napping because we were sooooo tired


pilgrim feet

perfectly useful roman road.  why aren't all of our paths like this?

home sweet home

Day 6.  Lorca to Los Arcos.  29 km.  Worst day ever.  There were very few towns to mark our progress and we had to walk 10 km straight through this horrid arid wasteland.  Also it was the hottest day so far.  Sofia's knee acted up again when we were in the middle of nowhere, so we prayed and tied a bandana around it, and she managed to walk it out.  I wore a bandana on my head for shade.  It looked horrible, but it was good I did, because I still managed to get a burn on the part in my hair.  Also, check out my amazing farmer's tan.
it was a bad day.

Spent a very interesting night in Los Arcos.  More on that later.


Day 7.  Today!  Los Arcos to Viana.  17 km.  My feet felt like bloody stumps an hour into the journey.  It was all I could do to not become roadside carrion.  We started at 6 and walked til 11.  Then we stopped.  Thank heaven.  Who knows how we will do tomorrow!

Summary:
I have a million times more empathy for the pioneers now.  And also for the little mermaid, whose every step on land felt like walking on knives.  And also for all the old people.  How do they make themselves stand up with painful feet is beyond me.  I pray I survive. 

Monday, September 3, 2012

Yesterday's Pictures Leave Something To Be Desired

Basically, we left the albergue:
Popular photo op for pilgrims:  790 kms until we get to Santiago!!
and then took pictures of animals:
Big Fat Slug, about 7:10.

Sexy Cat ate lunch with us around 11:00.  She got yoghurt on her nose.

Dead Animal Skullz at 18:00.  Sofia liked them.  She made me take a picture of them.

And then we pitched our tent in a field.  The end.

The View

These are pics from the first day.  We weren´t crazy wiped out yet, so we took several shots of the beautiful view.  Looking at them now, I realize we were jumping the gun.
This, for example, was ten minutes into the climb.  We hadn't seen anything yet. 
Pretty, though, huh?  With the mist and all?
Sofia wants to be a shepherdess so she wanted a picture with sheep. 
This was before we saw sheep grazing peacefully on mountain pastures for the next five hours.   
Higher and higher...  We started singing a rousing rendition of The Ants Go Marching. 
Until we couldn't breathe any more.

I started sweating.  A lot.  It was completely all uphill. 

Sofia doesn't like this picture, but I think it depicts us in our misery quite well.

We made it to a high point.  But it wasn't the highest point. 
It wasn't even the second highest point!  Still a nice view.

Here you can see Sofia's makeshift fanny pack.  She tore off the plastic image of a bear in an airplane
and sewed a pilgrim shell on instead.  Very ingenious.  Very cheap.  And cute.

Sofia and the Pyrennes.

There was a statue of the virgin and her son.
 It was a lot smaller than I expected from the pictures.  About knee high. 

Us on high.


Sofia gave baby Jesus her bracelet. 
It's the second bracelet in, the rainbow one. 
I think it looks good on him.
Still not at the highest point. 
But this was the last place where you could get a pilgrim's stamp in France!
We have passed and have been passed by this very friendly French man
many times in the past few days.  He's been walking for a month and a half already!


I Should Know Better

...than to try to load pictures on a hostel computer.  I´ll use a commercial internet cafe next time and show you what's going on.  In the mean time, I´ll tell you.

There are aparently tons of pilgrims who started at the same time we did; the hostels have been overloaded.  It also means we are hardly ever out of sight of other pilgrims along the way.  And that we see lots of the same people over and over again, when we pass people resting on the road, when we stop for water or some food, and when we pull over for the night.  Some lovely Germans, a nice Danish couple, a handsome French boy and his Australian and Irish and Dutch travelling companions, three friendly old Spanish men, a boy from Chicago who is writing a Master´s dissertation on occult books of the middle ages and his mom, and more.  There is a really nice atmosphere on the trail.  People seem to look out for each other. 

Liiiiiike today, when Sofia's knee started hurting so badly she couldn't walk any further.  One Australian girl who also has bad knees taped it for her and one of the old Spanish men gave her some antiinflammatory gel to help it.  Nice people. 
Why is Sofia's knee in pain?  Probably a combination of heavy pack, all the downhill work, and pushing it too hard the first two days.  She won't admit that the last one has anything to do with it, but she takes off like a rocket and gets the thrill of the chase in her when she sees another pilgrim on the horizon.  All well and good, but add the other two factors to it, and taking it easy is better on your body in the long run, even if you feel like you can take it at the moment.  Did she listen to me that first day?  Nope.  I´ve been keeping up, and I even pull ahead when we are chugging uphill (one foot in front of the other), but I usually end up trailing behind when going downhill.  This morning she was like:  if I go faster, we get there sooner and the pain won't last as long.  Bull.  My knee has been twinging a bit, too, and I have an almost-blister on my left big toe, so I was like: this is my pace; match me or leave me behind.  She slowed down. 

We walked for a kilometer or two before we stopped at a bar for breakfast, and Sofia swore she couldn't go any more.  That's when someone taped it for her, and we were told that the closest bus was 4 km away.  We decided that she would take the bus to Pamplona while I walked the trail.  That plan fell through becasue 4 km started to look reeeeally long at the pace we were keeping.  Sofia suggested we hitchhike.  A nice lady picked us up and brought us to a bus stop a town away from Pamplona, and from there we took the bus.  It ended up being another 1.5 km to the hostel, but we made it.  She got some tape and cold patches for it, and that man gave her the cream.  So she's feeling a lot better.  In fact, we just got back from a leisurely stroll around Pamplona center, which is so cute.  It's small and compact like any medieval city, but the buildings are painted lovely mediteranean colors.  We are thinking to walk a bit tomorrow, maybe 5 km or so, see how things go. 

Pray for her knee!

Saturday, September 1, 2012

First Day Of The CAMINO!!

First of all, I just wasted about 10 minutes of my 40 minutes on this computer by trying to log in to google.  Turns out ´ this and ` this are just accents and not an apostraphe.  And if I make any spelling mistakes, I apologize, this thing won't let me switch to english easily.  BAH!
What a day.
What a couple of days, actually.
I´m going to post a bunch of pictures in the interest of time and let them speak mainly for themselves.

...
AND I can't figure out how to flip the pictures on this flippin' computer!!
...
Figured it out.  Man, being on a ticking clock really messes with your composure.

Here are the pics.
BAH!  Nevermind!  This computer is so super slow!  I was only able to download these two pictures in the past ten minutes!!  Oh my goodness, this stress, I can't take it!  My body feels like it is about to fall apart, my stomach is empty, and my photos won't load!!!

***********I finally got some more pics in!  see them!************

I will take what I can get, I suppose.
These are pictures from saying goodbye to Liz and Sophie and I love them.

Sophie was pretty stressed out.  She had burst into tears about fifteen times in the hour we had all been awake.  I was so sad to let them go!

Sigh.  Then Sofia and I bought pain au chocolat each and went.
my favorite French pastry ever, from my favorite bakery.
The train journey was uneventful, except that Sofia and I played that dot game, where you try to make squares, and I won, like woah.  Also, I bought a slice of famous Bayonne ham for 1 euro and 3 cents when we had a two hour layover.  It was one of those hams that cures in a shed for ages and looks all hard and dried and almost mouldy on the outside, but it was delish on the inside.

We got to St. Jean and went straight to the pilgrim start point, where they gave us a tent!  Yes, a tent!  There were only expensive hostels left, we asked if we could camp, they asked if we had a tent, we said no, they said it will probably rain, we all looked worried for a moment, and then they gave us a tent!
So we camped at the campground.  We were going to try to off-road it (you have to hide so that the authorities don't see you) but then it was getting dark and we went to the campground and there was no one there so we got in for FREE!!  We are blessed.
See that little black square behind that little tree?  It's a tunnel I suggested we spend the night in.

Instead, thankfully, we spent the night here, in our new free tent!

Walking today was super hard.  The view was amazing, but it was uphill, steeply uphill, the whole way until it went downhill, steeply downhill, the rest of the way.  It was going downhill that killed me.  My feet were twitching in my boots, my knees were ready to buckle.  Ouch.  But now we are here and safe and warm and showered, and about to have a delicious dinner.
And my time is almost up.
Bye!