Pictures

Okay - I've got pictures from June 6 - 12th up and tried to identify them at the beginning of each of the days. As I can, I will try to add pictures for the days before and after that. Thanks for your patience and your comments!

Relaxing

La Virgen del Camino to Villar de Mazarife (Wednesday, June 16th)
We left La Virgen after I mailed some postcards at the post office, going downhill by the main road, then veering off just after this little pilgrim statue onto a dirt track through fields. We chose to do an easy day today of about 14 km. It was either that or about 30 km and we just don't want to do any days that long if we can help it. We chose to do the road that leads through the countryside, so it was very quiet and peaceful. The cuckoo was at it again in a few places, and you could tell there were bogs someplaces by the sound of the frogs.

We passed through a few small villages - Fresno, Oncina, Chozas de Abajo - none of which were too remarkable, though I suppose if you live there you might think they are. We are out of the meseta, and so the land is a little more hilly here and there. There are wildflowers - decidely fewer poppies, though a few handfuls in pockets. Mostly yellows and whites for the flowers now. A different variety of lavendar, and I still run my hand over it periodically for the fragrance. The sky is gray and overcast for most of the walk, with a few raindrops, but I'm glad, because it would be a blistering walk if the weather were hot.

I took a break in Chozas. It has an interesting little bell tower. Decidedly modern for the rest of the town. Just down the road a hundred yards or so, there is a half timbered house! Quite a contrast. By the time I finished my tea, Stella arrived. I went on to Villar de Mazarife. On the way out of Chozas, there was a unique Camino sign. More fields to walk through. So far, we have noticed that no one lives 'out in the country.' People only seem to live in the villages or cities. There are no farmhouses in between. So when we are walking through the fields, it's really just fields.

The guidebook has described Mazarife as a 'pilgrim-friendly' town and it is. It is always easy to figure out the towns that welcome us by the signs (or lack thereof) or artwork or whatever. On entering Mazarife, there was a big mosaic sign and yet another little pilgrim statue on a pedestal (as well as one on the central square). I gave the little welcoming statue a 'high five' which is what he seemed to be doing, and sat down to wait for Stella, so we could figure out where to stay. There are three or four alburges in the nice little town. The mosaic even includes the storks that nest in the bell tower of the little church.

It wasn't too long before Stella arrived and we decided to go to 'Tio Pepe's' alburgue. This mustard yellow building sits right in the center of the village and our window overlooked the little square. [Mary, Lexi and Josh will stay in this same alburgue several days after us and Mary's room will be the one right next door.] We did our laundry out in the courtyard (it's usually hand laundry using a washboard - what fun in the 55 degree weather we're having!) and then went for a walk around the town to explore.

We tried to get a few more postcard stamps at the store, but the lady behind the counter of the little part-grocery/part-everything store had run out of the regular overseas stamps and it would take three VERY large ones that would practically cover the entire postcard! Oh well. We walked back out to where we entered the town and Stella played 'soccer' with some little boys who seemed to keep kicking the ball out of the play area on purpose. It isn't a very large town and it didn't take long to cover all of it. So we came back to the alburgue, got a huge sandwich each, which we both managed to consume, then got on the computer. And that brings me to the present.

We come back to Tio Pepe´s (also known as Meson Rosey´s) after our walk around the town. I end up watching Switzerland beat Spain in the World Cup Soccer match, but out of better thinking, don´t cheer out loud, since I am sitting in a Spanish bar. I feel I have to root for some of my ethnic origins. I get the sense that there are others present who would like to cheer also but who are being sensitive, so we all just go, "Eh, well then, what can you do?" (Two days later, as I´m finishing this entry, I´m watching USA and Slovenia play - go USA!)

We have a good dinner at Rosey´s - first course is white asparagus and mayonnaise wrapped in Spanish ham (they could do without the mayo and Stella and I would be happy), and a peculiar mixture (by our standards) of chopped potatos, corn, peas, pimento peppers, perhaps chopped eggs and a little mayo. Sort of like potato salad, but not. Second course was a fried fish with the inevitable french fries. Dessert was just a little unremarkable dish of ice cream.

Our room was right at the head of the stairs leading up from the bar. For a long time into the night, Stella and I wondered what could possibly be so funny as the locals downstairs laughed and laughed and laughed...maybe they were telling pilgrim jokes. "A pilgrim walks into a bar..."

Citified

Puente Villrente to El Virgen del Camino (Tuesday, June 15th)[see also "Liveliness" entry]
We woke up pleasantly to the plum colored walls of our room at San Pelayo, and not, for once to the rustling and scraping of other pilgrims getting their things together in the wee hours of the morning. Fortunately, Stella happened to read in the guidebook about either taking the bus into Leon (12 km away) or taking our life in our hands because of the heavy traffic and location of the path. Several other pilgrims also opted for the bus. We were in Leon well before 9 and found a nice little place to have coffee, tea and breakfast. We saw our first McDonalds of the trip near the bus station. I always cringe when I see these and other American franchise exports and think of the Americans that actually flock to them for a 'taste of home.' Not to mention the non-Americans who think it's real food. I so rarely go to them here. Our choice for breakfast was SO much better!

From there, we found our way into the old part of the city, which is lovely. A lovely city for walking, with a very human scale about it. Old and new blend well. A little cafe makes me feel right at home! They are getting ready for a week-long celebration next week of St. Peter and St. Paul and so they were sprucing everything up by putting out window boxes on every conceivable window and balcony, planting new trees in planters on the squares, etc. Spaniards go in for public art in a big way. We toured the cathedral (but forgot to get our credencials stamped), Stella wrote postcards while I loaded some pictures onto this blog, then we toured some more, including St. Isidore. We also saw a neat model of the whole city done in bronze, and a building by one of my favorite architects, Gaudi.

Once again, it is hard not to notice how much Spaniards enjoy and use their public places. They are truly lived in. Their downtowns are alive and well and at the heart of the life of a community. They don't live with as much space or as much stuff or probably with as much money as most of us Americans do, but they live much more richly in terms of relationships, and laugher and food and those kinds of things that really make life meaningful from day to day.

It was hard to leave Leon, because it has much to offer, but we decided to stay about 10 km further on in El Virgen del Camino. Again, a town that doesn't have a whole lot to offer, even though it is bigger than many we have passed through. It takes its name from an appearance that the Virgin Mary reputedly made to a shepherd on a hillside in the 16th cent. saying that a church would one day be there. Sure enough, there is one there. It was built until the 20th century, but eventually Mary and the shepherd were right. It's a very modern (by 20th c. standards) church, with the western end featuring large bronze statues of the 12 apostles, with the BVM floating a little higher than them. There are lots and lots of Virgins in Spain (notice the capital "V") - each of the chapels in the cathedral was named after "The Virgin of This" or that. By far, the most common name for a church is Iglesia de Santa Maria.

The alburgue in this town was nice and we actually cooked dinner for the first time by making up a soup mix and having some of our sheep cheese and crackers. It was a nice early evening for a change and not so heavy as eating out often is.

Trees

El Burgos Ranero to Mansilla de las Mulas (Monday, January 14th)
I couldn't wait to get out of this place; I didn't sleep well here. Once again, none of the walls went up to the ceiling, so though bunks were in four rooms on the second floor, all the noises or lights from anywhere in the building traveled. Stella and I would swear that one man in our room (the one who helped to check us in) was sleeping on potato chips, bags and all, because every single time he moved in his sleeping bag, he crackled and crinkled. Some people got up around three or so in the morning and went downstairs and turned on the light which came right up the stairwell and shone into our rooms because of not having a ceiling. The underside of the roof of the building was logs, and before going to bed, Stella had made a comment about the bugs and the mice that must live in the roof. I must have been thinking about that during the night, because more than once when I was awake, I am sure that I felt something moving on my sleeping bag - and I WASN'T moving! My bar of lavendar soap is only supposed to ward off bedbugs. Call it imagination if you will...

Anyway, I was up and moving early, anxious to be out of El Burgos. On the way out of the town, we saw the little black donkey tied up and munching his breakfast. We also saw a stork catch a fish to take back to his/her fledglings for breakfast. Then began the endless stretch of trees that we would follow for the next 5 or 6 hours. Someday, they will provide nice shade for pilgrims along the path, so I am glad that they have planted them. But this is the least attractive portion of the meseta and we are nearing the end of it.

The path simply follows between the small trees and the two lane N-120 roadway for about 19 km. I have in mind that there are no pitstops between El Burgo and our destination, so I somewhat dehydrate myself. I've made it almost three weeks without having to stop by the roadside (an absolute last resort in my mind), but just knowing that this is such a long stretch is enough to make me think about it! And there is so little opportunity when the land is so open and there are just these young trees. After 10 or 11 km, I feel like I can finally wait no longer and there is a picnic spot that has some shrubbery. The whole thing is in need of mowing, but there is a path where other pilgrims have made their way back to the tables - or maybe bushes! I walk gingerly through the high grass, mindful of snakes. Just as I am about to take off my pack, I realize the two Italian guys behind me on the path have decided that this is the perfect place for their mid-morning snack. So much for my use of this place - I can't possibly be 10' away from them on the other side of the bush while they are making their salami and cheese sandwiches! It's that thing about being American again. So, I simply stretch a little, enjoy a few moments without my pack and then get back on the Camino.

"Ok, God, now what do I do?" I ask as I look at the continuing line of scrawny trees and not much else. Well, blessed be the God who provides! A few minutes further on and what should come into view over a hilltop but a few rooftops!! "Oh please let there be a bar/cafe!!" (That's where there are always 'aseos' or 'servicios' - bathrooms.) Sure enough, just a little way into town, there is a very nice little bar where the three German pilgrims with whom I'm quite familiar have already stopped. Yea! Another day without making a roadside pitstop! It's amazing how basic your thinking and your needs get on the Camino!

It is just a few kilometers further to Mansilla, our destination for the day. It has been a beautiful day for walking. Cool, with some sun, no walking under plastic. But on the way to Mansilla, a car pulls up to me as I am walking. I am suddenly very cautious and glance around for other pilgrims as the male passenger jumps out, but then I quickly realize he just wants to hand me something. It's an ad for an alburgue 6 km past Mansilla. It looks interesting.

Just before getting to Mansilla de la Mulas, there is a little park or reststop for pilgrims that has signs explaining the history, economy and geography of the city. I always stop to try to read these and I'm getting better at understanding what they say - just wish I'd remember more of what I figure out! I get into Mansilla and realize that none of the alburgues listed on the sign sound like what Stella and I had talked about. We're carrying our packs today, so I sit down on a bench in a plaza on the way into the old part of the city where she has to pass through and wait for her. In the plaza is an interesting pilgrim statue. On one side are a happy young man and woman, full of life and energy. On the reverse, is a pilgrim who is suffering. Only later, as I'm looking at the photographs do I realize that I have shot these as the "light" side and the "dark" side of the Camino journey. It is hard to know whether the pilgrim on the dark side is in physical pain or exhaustion, or emotional and mental anguish from the burdens he is carrying and dealing with.
Interesting statue.



About 15 minutes later, Stella comes through. We decide it has been an easy morning's walk of about 19 km and we could each do another 6 (this will be 15 miles for each of yesterday and today), so we will go on to the place that we each got the advertisement about.

The old city of Mansilla is interesting and pretty. It looks like it has a lot of neat little restaurants and cafes to explore if we were to take the time. We pause for a break in one of them. Stella orders coffee con leche and gets a little something extra added to it - oruju, a liquor of some sort. The coffee flavor is too strong for me to recognize the flavor. After using a very pink bathroom (never turn down facilities when they're available!), we ask the waitress on the way out and she gives us each a swig of it - we still can't place the flavor, but it's got some firepower to it! I look it up later in my Spanish-English Dictionary and it says something like "refuse of grapes, olives, etc." so it wasn't much help. It does make the trip over the little bridge and on to Puente Villarente, where the alburgue San Pelayo is, a little nicer. The walk isn't bad until we get to the village just before Puente Villarente, where it isn't marked very well and we end up walking next to the road. It isn't very comfortable, but we make it okay.

San Pelayo is like a little resort compared to most of the alburgues we have been to, especially El Burgo Ranero! We decide to splurge and get a private room. It is painted a deep shade of plum and has twin beds, REAL beds, not bunk beds, with an upper and lower sheet (you take these for granted!), two real pillows with pillow cases, REAL towels in the bathroom that is only ours. A rug on the floor. This is the lap of luxury. Our little window, with a window box of geraniums, looks out onto the larger of two courtyards. We wash our clothes in a washing machine (which we have done a few times along the way) and hang them out to dry in the courtyard, where some are lounging in the sun. We can take out time getting showers, as there is no one to compete with. We can take a nap. I spend time downloading pictures from my camera to this computer and labeling them. It is lovely.

Dinner at San Pelayo is paella, not with saffron, as it is brown, and no seafood, just pork, I think. Then chicken, (finally, white meat!) with the obigatory fries on the side. They have perhaps the worst flan yet, though, as it is simply storebought, something like a yogurt container. Otherwise it is fine. A good local red wine. Our tablemates are an older Frenchman who started from his home in Toulouse and three Spanish cyclists who are probaby mid to late thirties. I am amazed at how many pilgrims are in their 60s- 80s. Also, there are a growing number of cyclists, which is really much harder than walking.

It is a very pleasant evening of luxury on the Camino and we both sleep well. For me, it is perhaps the first real sleep since that night on the mountain at Hunnto, three weeks ago. I had forgotten what it felt like to wake up refreshed, but I don't mind being reminded!

Rough

San Nicholas to El Burgo Ranero (Sunday, June 13)
It is nice to have our own space to rise and get ready in at the Alburgue Laganares at San Nicholas. And because we are a few kilometers further down the road from where we would need to be by the schedule, we also don't feel so rushed.

We have discovered along the way that if there is a 'scenic route,' or something that is just a little out of the way that someone somewhere thinks we pilgrims should see, then we are routed extra kilometers to make that happen. And so it is on this morning as it looks like we are nearing Sahagun, suddenly we veer off to the right, crossing a road to go over a ways to see a restoration of an historic religious site in progress. It is the Hermitage of La Virgen de La Puenta, and the little bridge that goes with it. (Lots of Virgins over here, apparently!) It is a very cute little bridge, like something out of a fairy tale that one might expect three billy goats gruff to have something to do with. Or trolls. Very picturesque at any rate. The sign explains what is happening with the Hermitage and I can't make it all out. Once again, despite Spain's sagging economy, there seems to be a great deal of construction and restoration going on everywhere we have been!

Our route today takes us through Sahagun, a name I still can't pronounce correctly. The Camino brings us into the city through a not very attractive part of town, but it also ends up being directly by the local bull ring. As I wrote when we were passing through Pamplona, I have no affinity for bull fighting, though I appreciate that some folks think it has its finer points. So does NASCAR, but I don't appreciate those finer points either. They both just seem to involve the outpouring of a lot of testosterone and beer, and sometimes in the case of NASCAR and always in the case of bullfighting, blood. I just have sympathy for the bulls in the case of bullfighting.

As it turns out, Sahagun is in the midst of a several day festival. The day before, they had the running of the bulls. We are walking on several of the streets on which the bulls run as evidenced by the strong, welded gates and railings that herd us and them. There is action going on, however as we walk through about 9 in the morning. Teams of people, all wearing the same colors of shirts are gathering. I wonder if they are for a particular bullfighting team or something. As it turns out, they are flag-bearing teams for cities in this region. We get pictures of some musicians from Leon. They form into a small procession while we are stopped at a pastaleria having some breakfast and catching up with some fellow pilgrims who stayed here over night. Seems they had a big street dance here as well.

After we finish our pastries, we continue on. Apparently, the younger set in Sahagun treats this like Mardi Gras in New Orleans. I am glad that Stella and I are walking together through the couple of blocks of drunken twenty-somethings. They are setting off firecrackers, staggering this way and that and the streets are literally covered with trash and other stuff. It is pretty disgusting. We are glad to be clear of it. We find our way out of Sahagun as quickly as possible, passing yet another piece of public art for the Camino. Sahagun was definitely interesting, with the brightest spot being the delicious pastries made by the sister of the woman who ran the shop! As we are leaving, there is someone parasailing (gasoline engine on a go-cart frame with a parachute above) in circles over the city. Somehow, it seems to sort of cap the festivities there.

We have chosen to take the optional route that takes us through the little community of Bercianos, which is actually following the 'real camino frances,' the Royal French Road, rather than the 'camino roman' or Roman Road. Unfortunately, ours was probably not the most interesting choice. It followed along a never-ending line of poplar or sycamore (not sure which) trees that just kept going all the way to El Burgo Renaro, which like Bercianos, is a town that just doesn't have a lot to recommend it. We stop for a lunch break in one little town. Another has the remains of a belated Corpus Christi festival (perhaps they have to share a priest for their small church and couldn't celebrate on June 6th?) with flower petals strewn in the street and a shrine in the doorway of a house. Another house in a village has folk art in it's metal fencing and in the windows. Along the fence, it looks like small handcrafted whimsical alligators. In the windows, there are combinations of people and animals. They must be fun people that live here on the edge of town. At least it broke the monotony of the rest of the walk this day.

I got to El Burgo a little bit before Stella and couldn't find the alburgue we had discussed and shipped our packs to, even though I asked a couple of people. (I'm actually getting better at understanding people when they respond!) Then Stella showed up and together we located it. But the person who was supposed to be checking us in wasn't there, so another pilgrim was trying to help her out by recording people and checking them in. He gave us bed numbers. Unfortunately, when I went up to put my stuff there, people were already in both our bunks! Neither of us felt like sharing, especially with the people who were there, so I started to shake things up - not meanly, but just pointing out the problem. Apparently not everyone is so persnickety about things like that as we are. Chalk it up to being American (it seems to happen often). We were perfectly willing to take two of the unclaimed beds in another room, but by that time, I had started something, and the man helping out wasn't going to stop until it was straight! Neither of us felt much like laying on our beds after someone else had been on them, but we didn't have much choice. I really didn't like this alburgue much (can you tell?), so I didn't even bother using the shower (it was pretty un-nice, and with cold water) and I just waited for the next place. The one bathroom had two showers, two toilets and one sink to be shared by 32 men AND women! No, it was not clean. No, I did not like El Burgo Ranero.

We had dinner at the private alburgue across the street, which is where we found that the transport company had left our bags. I wonder if they were trying to tell us something? We should have listened! As it turns out, there was a festival in the little square that evening. And who should show up but the same musicians and flag teams, joined by more flag teams from other cities in the region. There was a procession to the square, some kind of official pronouncement. The lady sitting next to me was doing her best to keep me informed. I have tried to perfect the look of understanding on my face while nodding and saying, "Oh, si, si." In reality, I understand about 10% of what someone is conveying, if I'm lucky. Sometimes I ask questions, but that just usually indicates my ignorance and then there is more for me to not understand! I do appreciate their efforts and their infinite patience, not to mention their humor. After the presentation of the flags, men and women folkloric dancers, dressed in traditional garb (antigua tradicional) got out and danced several dances. They had some children dressed up as well, but they didn't dance. And it is not a Spanish town or city without an older gentleman (or two) in a beret, with a bicycle. Or on a park bench. It was a fun way to pass an evening in a town I didn't really like very much.