Sunday, October 14, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Back-Seat Blogging
Perhaps some of you are thinking, "Now, why did she put a hyphen in the word 'backseat'?"
It's a joke.
Maybe some of you noticed all the hypenated words in my last blog post. No? Well, Sofia did. She was sitting on my left as I wrote it, commenting on every hyphen and also everything else. I have been shooting dagger eyes at her the whole time, and I would like to say that she should write her OWN blog!!
Sofia says, "I don't NEED to put all my thoughts on the internet for everyone to read. I'm content to know I'm right in my own head." Yes, she just said that. There was a bit of tongue in her cheek, BUT the sentiment stands!
I counter, "What about FACEBOOK?!"
And she is left speechless.
Anyway. She also would like all my readers to know that this blog journey has been entirely from my, Alexandra's, perspective and contains only half the story.
I would like to say that it doesn't begin to contain my whole half of the story.
That's all.
It's a joke.
Maybe some of you noticed all the hypenated words in my last blog post. No? Well, Sofia did. She was sitting on my left as I wrote it, commenting on every hyphen and also everything else. I have been shooting dagger eyes at her the whole time, and I would like to say that she should write her OWN blog!!
Sofia says, "I don't NEED to put all my thoughts on the internet for everyone to read. I'm content to know I'm right in my own head." Yes, she just said that. There was a bit of tongue in her cheek, BUT the sentiment stands!
I counter, "What about FACEBOOK?!"
And she is left speechless.
Anyway. She also would like all my readers to know that this blog journey has been entirely from my, Alexandra's, perspective and contains only half the story.
I would like to say that it doesn't begin to contain my whole half of the story.
That's all.
It Feels Like Home To Me
Sofia and I took the bus back to Santiago this afternoon. I had the wonderful feeling of recognizing streets as we drove in, and we didn't even need to pull out our old guidebook to find our way to our old albergue, the Seminario Menor. We found a spot to camp behind a stone wall and under some eucalyptous trees, but we wanted to hang out inside (it is 15 degrees celsius outside) until we can pitch our tent under cover of darkness. So. The plan was to walk in unsuspicious-like with our packs on and head straight downstairs, where we know there to be a TV, showers, bathrooms, and perhaps a discarded book or two. If we were stopped, we'd say we had plans for the night, but just needed to keep warm in the meantime.
We walked in and made a beeline for the stairs, only Sofia broke ranks and waved at the front desk guy (apparently it was made unavoidable by eye contact). He called out, "van den Berg!", which echoed in the marble foyer and stopped us in our tracks. We couldn't help grinning as we made our way to the office, feeling slightly delinquent.
This front desk guy has been so good to us in the past. We stayed at this albergue for three nights, and he learned our names and bed numbers on the first day! He let us use the internet for free to see if conference would stream with audio and helped us figure out how to work the system by buying two and a half hour chunks of internet ahead of time to use when the office was closed. THEN, on our last night in Santiago, when we were planning on camping to save money, he came down and checked on us as we were watching the last session of conference. He asked us if we were staying another night, since he hadn't seen our names on the register, and when we told him that we were camping, he insisted on giving us free beds in the albergue. It was wonderfully nice of him, and he conducted all this under-the-table business so matter-of-factly that we scarcely had a chance to say "muchos gracias"!
So we wrote him a thank-you note and drew him a picture and left him a pass-along card.
Apparently, that won us his good graces, because this evening as we stood in the doorway of his office, he called me over by name and handed me a password for an unlimited amount of internet time, no questions asked! "See you later," he said, as he briskly started helping the next pilgrim.
We walked in and made a beeline for the stairs, only Sofia broke ranks and waved at the front desk guy (apparently it was made unavoidable by eye contact). He called out, "van den Berg!", which echoed in the marble foyer and stopped us in our tracks. We couldn't help grinning as we made our way to the office, feeling slightly delinquent.
This front desk guy has been so good to us in the past. We stayed at this albergue for three nights, and he learned our names and bed numbers on the first day! He let us use the internet for free to see if conference would stream with audio and helped us figure out how to work the system by buying two and a half hour chunks of internet ahead of time to use when the office was closed. THEN, on our last night in Santiago, when we were planning on camping to save money, he came down and checked on us as we were watching the last session of conference. He asked us if we were staying another night, since he hadn't seen our names on the register, and when we told him that we were camping, he insisted on giving us free beds in the albergue. It was wonderfully nice of him, and he conducted all this under-the-table business so matter-of-factly that we scarcely had a chance to say "muchos gracias"!
So we wrote him a thank-you note and drew him a picture and left him a pass-along card.
Apparently, that won us his good graces, because this evening as we stood in the doorway of his office, he called me over by name and handed me a password for an unlimited amount of internet time, no questions asked! "See you later," he said, as he briskly started helping the next pilgrim.
Several Marvelous Items
Last night Sofia and I set off across town to look for the hippie tent village on some beach on the other side of the peninsula. I had heard tell of this settlement from a girl who partied there every night this summer. And we didn't want to spend any more money.
We found the beach just at sunset, and as we hiked the boardwalk to the sand, we watched the sun sink under the horizon. It is amazing how fast it sets over the sea. A huge fiery ball, lighting the bellies of the distant clouds with gold. The rest of the sky was light blue and soft shell pink. It was beautiful. We forded an inlet, ran over a sand bar, and waded into the Atlantic Ocean. The waves roared, and the riptide sucked at our ankles. If I squinted a little, I could almost make out America.
Hidden among the cliffs, there were a couple tents set up and a few men busy around around a firepit. Apparently there had been dozens of people camping there this summer, but now there were only three. One of them had been the hospitaliero for the municipal albergue and knew that we were coming, so he welcomed us "home". We were even invited to dinner!
As soon as the fire was built up, we went swimming in the little inlet where it curved around the sandbar and got quite deep. The pull of the riptide on this beach is super strong and has pulled people out to sea before, so we wanted to stay in a protected area. It was dark by then, and the water was freezing. We stood waist-deep and shivering, trying to build up the courage to get all the way wet, when I saw something that looked like a blueish firefly in the water. And then there was another one and another one! Phosphorescence! Bioluminescence! I have read about those things that glow in the ocean at night, but I had never seen them before!! They appeared around our legs when we moved in the water, just a few here and there. So cool!
We both had to go pee, which we each managed with a bit of concentration cause it was so cold. Don't judge us. When I looked back down into the water, a whole STREAM of glowing things were flowing from me towards the open ocean! Sofia had a little cloud floating away from her legs, too! The sudden warmth in the water must have disturbed those little dinoflagellates (or whatever they were) enough to set off their glowing reaction! (I hope this doesn't gross anyone out).
When Sofia looked down, she flipped out. She's kinda jumpy in dark, unknown waters at night. She calmed down about the glowing things, but then she made us both get out because she thought the bubbles floating on the surface of the water were jellyfish. I got a flashlight, proved that they were just bubbles, and insisted that I had to at least go under the water once in order to call it a proper night swim. She wouldn't let me do it alone, and she wouldn't let me do it first (can it be her "thing" to go into cold water before me when I'm humoring her by waiting my turn?), but eventually we were both all the way in and then all the way out.
The rest of the night was spent eating delicious rice and chocolate (not together) around a horribly smokey fire, and I went to bed around midnight. Sofia stayed up with a ringletted German boy, and they slept outside by the fire.
After I woke up and had a pee in the sand, I sat on the beach and watched the waves as the sun gently lightened the sky from behind. The tide was on its way in so the sandbar was getting wetter and wetter, reflecting the pink of the sky like a mirror.
A man in yellow boots walked across the beach with a net. I waved, he waved back, and then he disappeared over the rocks to the left. I was curious, so I put on my shoes and followed him. Turns out he was catching shrimp in the tidepools. He would scrape the net under the overhanging rock and then upend it into a plastic bag. The shrimp were jumpy and clear with black markings. I guess he was looking for lunch, He said that the shrimp were very small nowadays, he didn't know why. Eventually I left him to it, but he passed me on the beach as he was going home. He had dumped his catch back into the water because they were just too small. Maybe someday he'll come and catch them again when they are big and be rewarded for his wisdom.
I also saw a man standing in the surf with waders on and a fishing pole with a huge silver lure, which he would occasionally pitch into the waves. I have never heard of shallow-sea fishing before. Or beach-side fishing? I was quite incredulous and doubted his sanity until I saw fish in the waves!! Silver foot-long things with pointy fins! They swam at the top of the water with their mouths gaping open in the air! They were in the semi-calm area where the waves had already crashed and the water was just pushing in to shore, and I could see fish shapes silhouetted in each green-blue swell! It was so cool! I kept hoping that one of them would get disoriented and beach itself so that I could catch one for breakfast... I even (seriously) shouted Ernie's fish call at the waves, on the off-chance that Sesame Street knew something I didn't. I didn't catch any fish, but yelling at the ocean still felt good.
We found the beach just at sunset, and as we hiked the boardwalk to the sand, we watched the sun sink under the horizon. It is amazing how fast it sets over the sea. A huge fiery ball, lighting the bellies of the distant clouds with gold. The rest of the sky was light blue and soft shell pink. It was beautiful. We forded an inlet, ran over a sand bar, and waded into the Atlantic Ocean. The waves roared, and the riptide sucked at our ankles. If I squinted a little, I could almost make out America.
Hidden among the cliffs, there were a couple tents set up and a few men busy around around a firepit. Apparently there had been dozens of people camping there this summer, but now there were only three. One of them had been the hospitaliero for the municipal albergue and knew that we were coming, so he welcomed us "home". We were even invited to dinner!
As soon as the fire was built up, we went swimming in the little inlet where it curved around the sandbar and got quite deep. The pull of the riptide on this beach is super strong and has pulled people out to sea before, so we wanted to stay in a protected area. It was dark by then, and the water was freezing. We stood waist-deep and shivering, trying to build up the courage to get all the way wet, when I saw something that looked like a blueish firefly in the water. And then there was another one and another one! Phosphorescence! Bioluminescence! I have read about those things that glow in the ocean at night, but I had never seen them before!! They appeared around our legs when we moved in the water, just a few here and there. So cool!
We both had to go pee, which we each managed with a bit of concentration cause it was so cold. Don't judge us. When I looked back down into the water, a whole STREAM of glowing things were flowing from me towards the open ocean! Sofia had a little cloud floating away from her legs, too! The sudden warmth in the water must have disturbed those little dinoflagellates (or whatever they were) enough to set off their glowing reaction! (I hope this doesn't gross anyone out).
When Sofia looked down, she flipped out. She's kinda jumpy in dark, unknown waters at night. She calmed down about the glowing things, but then she made us both get out because she thought the bubbles floating on the surface of the water were jellyfish. I got a flashlight, proved that they were just bubbles, and insisted that I had to at least go under the water once in order to call it a proper night swim. She wouldn't let me do it alone, and she wouldn't let me do it first (can it be her "thing" to go into cold water before me when I'm humoring her by waiting my turn?), but eventually we were both all the way in and then all the way out.
The rest of the night was spent eating delicious rice and chocolate (not together) around a horribly smokey fire, and I went to bed around midnight. Sofia stayed up with a ringletted German boy, and they slept outside by the fire.
After I woke up and had a pee in the sand, I sat on the beach and watched the waves as the sun gently lightened the sky from behind. The tide was on its way in so the sandbar was getting wetter and wetter, reflecting the pink of the sky like a mirror.
A man in yellow boots walked across the beach with a net. I waved, he waved back, and then he disappeared over the rocks to the left. I was curious, so I put on my shoes and followed him. Turns out he was catching shrimp in the tidepools. He would scrape the net under the overhanging rock and then upend it into a plastic bag. The shrimp were jumpy and clear with black markings. I guess he was looking for lunch, He said that the shrimp were very small nowadays, he didn't know why. Eventually I left him to it, but he passed me on the beach as he was going home. He had dumped his catch back into the water because they were just too small. Maybe someday he'll come and catch them again when they are big and be rewarded for his wisdom.
 |
| just like this! only this is not my picture. |
A Very Long Post Of Some Of My Adventures
Walking by myself to Finisterra was wonderful. I was able to walk at my own pace and stop at my own will and talk with my own people. Sofia wanted to speed ahead and make the hike in three days, which works out to about 33k a day, but I didn't want to push so hard. I planned on four days. And it turned out to be perhaps the most thrilling four days of my Camino!
On the first day, I finally got the chance to swim. There was this cute little town with a beautiful restored Roman bridge going over a river that actually had some substance to it. Most of the "rivers" we've seen have consisted of trickles of water, barely enough to bathe a baby and certainly not enough to give me decent cover. But this river flowed nicely with rocks on the banks and deep spots to swim in! And the day was fine! I followed a narrow path downriver, away from the bridge, past the farm on the left, and beyond the houses on the right. And I stripped down and got in! It was FREEZING. And it turns out I didn't go quite far enough, because I could see a pilgrim taking pictures of the river on the bridge. I ducked behind a rock. And then I swam! After sweating all morning under the weight of the pack, the water felt so refreshing. I paddled to the middle of the river, but then a horrible daydream seized me of meeting a poisonous Spanish river snake, and I panicked and swam back to the edge. I climbed out, got dressed, and took a nap in the sun on a rock. My skin felt so new! That feeling didn't last long, since as soon as I started walking I got sweaty all over again, but it was a lovely treat.
That night, I camped out by myself for the first time. Sofia had wanted to camp, too, and she took the tent, which left me with my versatile poncho with loops on the edges so that it could be strung up as shelter. I rigged up the coolest lean-to ever! I'll show you:
The bright green thing is my poncho, the orange thing is my stick, the grey thing is a rope, the black thing is my pack, the red thing is my sleeping bag (with me inside). Tahdah! And the tree was a big chestnut, so there were a million spikey chestnuts all over the ground (and sharp pine needles too), keeping me squarely in the middle of my sleeping mat. Big fat slugs crawled on my tarp and my sleeping bag in the night. I flicked one off the tarp from underneath, and it went flying.
I slept relatively well until the deluge at 7 in the morning. My poncho, being what it is, has a hole for my head. I thought when the hood was cinched tight it wouldn't leak, but that was wishful thinking, and the bottom of my sleeping bag got soaked pretty quickly. By that time, the sky was getting lighter, so I just packed up and left in the rain.
Then it rained for three days.
There was a bit of sun in the middle of the day that second day, so I dried out my sleeping bag. And a delightful French lady and a German kid took pity on me that night and paid for me to sleep in an albergue. All in all the rain didn't create too much trouble for me until the third day when I and the German kid, Marius, walked over a mountain in the worst storm yet.
We had stopped at a bar that said "last place to buy food for 15 km!" and ate some ice cream. When we started walking, it was sprinkling a little. Neither of us put our ponchos on, because we had learned through hard experience that they didn't actually do much. Plus it wasn't very cold. So we walked in the mist.
Soon it rained harder. We got wetter. Actually, we got soaked through. And then the wind started blowing. I didn't feel cold because we were walking, but when I tried waving to some pilgrims, my hand would only move in slow motion. Maybe I was colder than I thought... The rain turned to fat, heavy drops that poured down our faces and blew into our ears. And the rain tasted horrible! I thought at first it was my red hair dye running down my face, but Sofia said the same thing later when we compared notes. The rain tasted nasty. And the wind blew and blew. The fog obscured every view. And the road kept going! I sung my german banana song for Marius a couple times, just to keep up morale (it is a pretty good song), but the wind would just blow harder, mocking our feeble attempts at jollity. I seriously started to think that maybe we would get hypothermia, go crazy, and die! If we had stopped moving, we sure would've gotten very cold very quickly. So we didn't stop. We just walked and walked. Right through puddles because it didn't matter any more. When the path started heading downhill, it became a rushing stream. I prayed and prayed that we would reach the next town soon.
And then. I could smell the sea.
We were saved!
Soon we could see it ahead of us, a bay between grey-green hills with red-roofed towns nestled on the coasts. It was a beautiful sight!
Marius stopped at a bar in town, but I kept walking. I had heard tell of a free albergue a couple km away, and I was determined not to stop until I could get truly dry and warm. So I walked through Cee and I walked through Corcubion. I climbed up this hill, and it looked like I was leaving civilization again without ever seeing that fabled albergue! I was devastated. I prayed and prayed that it would be just the next house....then maybe the next house. I figured I had only 10 km to go to Finisterra, and if I didn't reach the albergue, an alberge, ANY albergue, I'd have to press on. I crossed a busy road...walked a few meters...and there, on the ground: "<--- Albergue 50 mts".
This albergue fulfilled all my dearest wishes on that day. I walked in, and sympathetic pilgrims came to greet me. One covered me with a towel, another went to make me some tea. My shoes were taken from me, my pack uncovered by my sopping poncho. I was led upstairs and offered a hot shower. "Take as long as you want," I was told. And I did.
And then I was fed a hot, delicious lunch (for free). And the slighly-drunk, five-times-a-pilgrim gave me a foot and calf massage. And I drank as much hot chocolate with biscuits as I wanted. I had found heaven. It was such a nice place to be.
On the first day, I finally got the chance to swim. There was this cute little town with a beautiful restored Roman bridge going over a river that actually had some substance to it. Most of the "rivers" we've seen have consisted of trickles of water, barely enough to bathe a baby and certainly not enough to give me decent cover. But this river flowed nicely with rocks on the banks and deep spots to swim in! And the day was fine! I followed a narrow path downriver, away from the bridge, past the farm on the left, and beyond the houses on the right. And I stripped down and got in! It was FREEZING. And it turns out I didn't go quite far enough, because I could see a pilgrim taking pictures of the river on the bridge. I ducked behind a rock. And then I swam! After sweating all morning under the weight of the pack, the water felt so refreshing. I paddled to the middle of the river, but then a horrible daydream seized me of meeting a poisonous Spanish river snake, and I panicked and swam back to the edge. I climbed out, got dressed, and took a nap in the sun on a rock. My skin felt so new! That feeling didn't last long, since as soon as I started walking I got sweaty all over again, but it was a lovely treat.
That night, I camped out by myself for the first time. Sofia had wanted to camp, too, and she took the tent, which left me with my versatile poncho with loops on the edges so that it could be strung up as shelter. I rigged up the coolest lean-to ever! I'll show you:
The bright green thing is my poncho, the orange thing is my stick, the grey thing is a rope, the black thing is my pack, the red thing is my sleeping bag (with me inside). Tahdah! And the tree was a big chestnut, so there were a million spikey chestnuts all over the ground (and sharp pine needles too), keeping me squarely in the middle of my sleeping mat. Big fat slugs crawled on my tarp and my sleeping bag in the night. I flicked one off the tarp from underneath, and it went flying.
I slept relatively well until the deluge at 7 in the morning. My poncho, being what it is, has a hole for my head. I thought when the hood was cinched tight it wouldn't leak, but that was wishful thinking, and the bottom of my sleeping bag got soaked pretty quickly. By that time, the sky was getting lighter, so I just packed up and left in the rain.
Then it rained for three days.
There was a bit of sun in the middle of the day that second day, so I dried out my sleeping bag. And a delightful French lady and a German kid took pity on me that night and paid for me to sleep in an albergue. All in all the rain didn't create too much trouble for me until the third day when I and the German kid, Marius, walked over a mountain in the worst storm yet.
We had stopped at a bar that said "last place to buy food for 15 km!" and ate some ice cream. When we started walking, it was sprinkling a little. Neither of us put our ponchos on, because we had learned through hard experience that they didn't actually do much. Plus it wasn't very cold. So we walked in the mist.
Soon it rained harder. We got wetter. Actually, we got soaked through. And then the wind started blowing. I didn't feel cold because we were walking, but when I tried waving to some pilgrims, my hand would only move in slow motion. Maybe I was colder than I thought... The rain turned to fat, heavy drops that poured down our faces and blew into our ears. And the rain tasted horrible! I thought at first it was my red hair dye running down my face, but Sofia said the same thing later when we compared notes. The rain tasted nasty. And the wind blew and blew. The fog obscured every view. And the road kept going! I sung my german banana song for Marius a couple times, just to keep up morale (it is a pretty good song), but the wind would just blow harder, mocking our feeble attempts at jollity. I seriously started to think that maybe we would get hypothermia, go crazy, and die! If we had stopped moving, we sure would've gotten very cold very quickly. So we didn't stop. We just walked and walked. Right through puddles because it didn't matter any more. When the path started heading downhill, it became a rushing stream. I prayed and prayed that we would reach the next town soon.
And then. I could smell the sea.
We were saved!
Soon we could see it ahead of us, a bay between grey-green hills with red-roofed towns nestled on the coasts. It was a beautiful sight!
Marius stopped at a bar in town, but I kept walking. I had heard tell of a free albergue a couple km away, and I was determined not to stop until I could get truly dry and warm. So I walked through Cee and I walked through Corcubion. I climbed up this hill, and it looked like I was leaving civilization again without ever seeing that fabled albergue! I was devastated. I prayed and prayed that it would be just the next house....then maybe the next house. I figured I had only 10 km to go to Finisterra, and if I didn't reach the albergue, an alberge, ANY albergue, I'd have to press on. I crossed a busy road...walked a few meters...and there, on the ground: "<--- Albergue 50 mts".
This albergue fulfilled all my dearest wishes on that day. I walked in, and sympathetic pilgrims came to greet me. One covered me with a towel, another went to make me some tea. My shoes were taken from me, my pack uncovered by my sopping poncho. I was led upstairs and offered a hot shower. "Take as long as you want," I was told. And I did.
And then I was fed a hot, delicious lunch (for free). And the slighly-drunk, five-times-a-pilgrim gave me a foot and calf massage. And I drank as much hot chocolate with biscuits as I wanted. I had found heaven. It was such a nice place to be.
Friday, October 12, 2012
The End Of The World
I walked in yesterday, the fourth day from Santiago, and the first day it didn't rain while I was walking. I felt such a sense of well-being, of accomplishment, of completion. It was perfect.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Flying
Usually I dream of falling. I'll be standing on a high skyscraper/billboard/staircase, and it will slowly start to tip over or peel away from its supporting structure. It is a terrifying moment, to feel yourself tilting into a void with the certainty of impact only moments away. I never do remember hitting the ground.
But last night I dreamed of flying. It was my first real flying dream ever. I think it started when I fell out of a plane. Free-falling alone was a new sensation. From thousands of feet in the air, I could see a green country spread out before me, rolling hills of trees in every direction, beautiful like Galicia. Maybe it was the view, but suddenly it didn't matter to me that I was falling. My heart felt calm. I stopped being afraid. And with that, I was flying.
I banked and soared and landed light on my feet. I practiced until I knew that it wasn't just a fluke. I could fly.
I was trying to take a nap today and ended up thinking about my dream as I fell asleep. In my drowsy state, I saw a symbol of love. Not just romantic love, but all love. Love is scary. Love makes you vulnerable. But when you focus less on fear of hitting the ground with a splat and more on the freedom and the beauty that the view of the horizon affords, you can lose your fear. And then you'll fly.
Beautiful, isn't it? Of course, after the flying part, my dream transitioned into some strange, Alice-in-Wonderland journey, leaving me disoriented and freaked out.
Feel free to extend the metaphor if you wish. I'll just leave it at that.
But last night I dreamed of flying. It was my first real flying dream ever. I think it started when I fell out of a plane. Free-falling alone was a new sensation. From thousands of feet in the air, I could see a green country spread out before me, rolling hills of trees in every direction, beautiful like Galicia. Maybe it was the view, but suddenly it didn't matter to me that I was falling. My heart felt calm. I stopped being afraid. And with that, I was flying.
I banked and soared and landed light on my feet. I practiced until I knew that it wasn't just a fluke. I could fly.
I was trying to take a nap today and ended up thinking about my dream as I fell asleep. In my drowsy state, I saw a symbol of love. Not just romantic love, but all love. Love is scary. Love makes you vulnerable. But when you focus less on fear of hitting the ground with a splat and more on the freedom and the beauty that the view of the horizon affords, you can lose your fear. And then you'll fly.
Beautiful, isn't it? Of course, after the flying part, my dream transitioned into some strange, Alice-in-Wonderland journey, leaving me disoriented and freaked out.
Feel free to extend the metaphor if you wish. I'll just leave it at that.
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