After two weeks on the Camino, the effects are definitely starting to show on my fellow pilgrims. This path is often romanticized, with people giving it almost a mythical quality. I haven´t yet found that to be true. I would rather say that it is a "magnifyer" -- like all big endeavors, it makes everyone´s personality come out, revealing more about yourself. For the negative people, there is a lot to complain about... sore feet, endless stretches of land that are only half as exciting as walking from Yakima to the Tri-Cities (Yuma to Casa Grande, Arizona also comes to mind), and the general routine of waking up too early in the morning in a place not as clean as you would like, etc. But for the positive people, there is also a lot to make you smile -- epic sunrises, great new friends, and grand Spanish architecture.
Christie and I have also taken seperate paths this week. There are many reasons behind this, but in the end each person´s Camino is his or her own, and we are both trying to use this time to grow as individuals and examine what type of future we want, and what sort of dreams we want to pursue. (This is especially true for me, when I´m not sure where I will be living or what I will be doing when I´m done!) In that aspect it´s been very good, and I´m excited about some ideas I have for when I return. That being said, here´s a look at our second week:
Current Location: Hospital de Orbigo
(Just west of Leon)
Days Walked: 13
Kilometers Walked: 380.1
Distance to SANTIAGO: 269 km
Blisters: 0 (knock on wood!)
DAY 7: Thursday, August 6, 2009
Santo Domingo to Belorado. 23.5 km - 6:45 hrs
I´ve taken a shower. I´ve regrouped. I feel better about myself as a person. But I must be honest: an hour ago I was homesick. It´s weird because in my positologist nature I almost never have a bad day, or think that some part of my life during that period was incredible, and I´ve NEVER really felt this way before in our two years of living in Europe. Yeah, there´s things I´ve missed (Ice, Sportscenter, Gold Bond Medicated Powder, English) but never have I had the "OK, let´s go get on the next plane home" feeling as I had this afternoon. Perhaps it is being a PILGRIM that has triggered it. I have been dirty. Hot. Tired. Hungry... and had just overpaid for unhealthy food that I had to cook in a filthy kitchen with broken appliances... and a fly kept buzzing in and out of my ear. There - are you happy Matt Epperson and everyone else who doubts if I´m ever down??? The exact moment that I walked into a local carniceria (meat shop) and saw cow brains, lamb head (eyeball included), and what appeared to be skinned greyhound, I for sure wasn´t happy.
But maybe this - and the whole Camino for that matter - is a good thing. Maybe I needed this endless dirt path through endless wasteland to trigger the American Dream and never-say-die-attitude that Tony Robbins is looking for! To go out and earn that big house with the flat screen, white picket fence, and Folgers-in-your-cup. Because to be honest, walking day after day is not fun. It´s not vacation, frollicking from countryside village to rustic, hilltop villa. It´s dirty Spanish towns that could pass for Mexican on any Hollywood backlot and are filled with stray animals and septic smells. (I´m sorry... by now I´m sure you are asking, ´where do i sign up?´) But maybe this is the type of moment that teaches one to endure, to push through... for whether in business, sports, or life in general, when the going get´s tough... you know the rest.
I keep waiting for the ´profound´ moment of the Camino to hit, the one with the lightning bolt and audible voice from the heavens (played by Charlton Heston of course.) I mean, I have now walked almost 200k haven´t I? But perhaps this, what I´m doing right now, is the more profound way. Call it the rehab method. First you hate it, then you want to leave, finally you except it, then you realize that in the end you are a better person for it. (Unless you are Amy Winehouse.) Yes, I´m sure through this experience I will realize what I want and how I want to live, and what I´ll do to accomplish that, and I guess that is the most profound thing a person can ask for.
DAY 8: Friday, August 7, 2009
Belorado to Orbaneja. 39.7 km - 9.5 hrs
Perhaps the Camino can sense emotion, because today I woke up to a dark, cold, drizzly morning. The night and day before had left me feeling worse than usual, and to make matters worse Christie had taken a bus to Leon to start off her own adventure there. As it turns out, I think this was the best thing that could happen as I started walking with a new purpose and a new focus on things.
When I finally started around 8am, I didn´t care where I was going. I didn´t look at the guidebooks. I kept my head down and pushed. Through villages and passed fountains, along deserted stretches of track and through populated areas. I did not stop. I thought about everything in my life, and next thing you know I had done 25k before lunch. I kept pushing.
In the afternoon, I met up with a pair of Americans I had seen along the path. Jeff, a laid back junior high teacher from Long Beach, and Suzy, an American ex-pat living in Prague. It was nice to have company, especially native-English speaking company. Don´t get me wrong, I love different cultures and have cherished everyone I have met here in Europe, but walking for an entire day playing "charades" with someone trying to speak English can tucker you out! The cool weather made for good hiking, and by mid-afternoon we reached a large hill where you could see down to Burgos, the next large town on our journey. Everyone was upbeat, and we made our way through a number of defunct towns in quick succession. In that way, entering cautiously with my camera up looking for photo ops, I felt like some sort of American strike-force in Afghanistan. Jeff and I both laughed at having the same thought.
Around 6pm with Burgos still a good three hours away, we called it quits in the tiny village of Orbaneja. You hear all the time about "one stop light towns" - well this one was NO STOP LIGHT town. Maybe a couple dozen concrete buildings and a single little bar. There was a sign for "habitaciones" which means rooms, so we enquired with a lady who wasn´t a day younger than 90. She led us down a dark path and into... an American-style rich villa! It was incredible! We chilled on the couch and flipped on the flat screen to watch Nadal play tennis. All my Camino misery = gone! We walked down to the only open store in the village, where the bar tender invited his mother to cook for us! The only tense moment of the evening came is when the Italians who had been traveling near us insisted that THEY cook the pasta. Classic moment!
DAY 9: Saturday, August 8, 2009
Orbaneja to Burgos. 14 km - 3.5 hrs
After pushing almost 40k the day before, we had little less than a "figurative" nine-iron into Burgos. We slept in and still arrived by 11am, passing through the city limits and heading straight to the Cathedral. Many of the guidebooks described the 10k outside the city as an infamous "industrial zone," but I didn´t find it as bad as depicted. However, the city really comes alive inside the walls of its historic zone, as is true with mainly every European city. If America only had Old Towns! We were met with cobbled streets, quaint buildings, and bustling shops. Full tapas bars provided energy that spilled onto the streets, and everyone had a very stately look about themselves... especially compared to the dirty pilgrims walking into the city. (Trust me, you feel way out of place in the cities on the Camino.)
At its core was the Cathedral, and my words will not do it justice. For over 4 city blocks the 13th century towering masterpiece in all its Gothic glory shouts to be seen. In the evening I would spend over 2 hours touring the inside, a record for me, and it left me feeling very different from the past few days. Perhaps the Camino is getting to me...
DAY 10: Sunday, August 9, 2009
Burgos to Castrojeriz. 40.5 km - 10.5 hrs
My attack on the mesata began today, and God is it boring. The Spanish call this next section of the Camino, from Burgos to Leon, the Meseta in reference to a table because it is a high plateau that goes on forever... I would describe it as rural Saskatchewan but in yellow. I began the day with Jeff, Suzy, and the Italians, using our proven method for long distance walking: 2 hours on, 30 minute break. My original plan was to catch the bus and meet up with Christie, but I felt like something was telling me to keep going, and so we emailed back and forth and changed our plans. Perhaps there was a lesson on the high plains for me.
We pushed through the monotonous morning of yellow hills being broken up only ever so often by brown rocks. The towns on the way seemed abandoned, with derelict stucco buildings with rotting beams. We broke for lunch at Hornillos, a one street town that exists only for the pilgrims who wander through. We happened to be there at noon when Sunday mass took place, and it was the only thing which helped distinguish what day of the week it was. A crowd of about 30 took in the event, each dressed in their Sunday best and not a face under 50. Don´t think my brother Chad could get a job as High School Youth Pastor here...
Two hours later I left Jeff and Suzy in Hornatas, which is as close to an "Wild West" town as you´ll find outside of Arizona. I needed to go faster to catch up to Christie and finish by August 21st, and they were looking to slow down a little. It was a little tough saying goodbye as I know I will probably not see them again on this trip... weird to think after you´ve been traveling with people for a while. I set off truly alone for the first time, feeling the freedom but also the isolation of the Meseta. After 2km I passed a deserted pillar that is all that remains of some medieval church, sort of like a mini leaning tower with no visitors. It is customary for pilgrims on the trip to carry rocks with them (just like Frosty´s glad-sad story) to symbolize various issues in their life. When you have dealt with the issue, you drop off your rock. I left one here, and it was funny how I felt lighter afterwards, as if the symbolism carried a weight in reality.
I stopped that night in Castrojerez, an impressive city from a distance with a huge castle looming over it on top of a hill. Upon closer inspection, it was as ancient as it was spooky, like a modern day ghost town. I asked one local, who told me there is now no industry here, no jobs, and hence, no people. Very sad. I found a restaurant and it was filled with all new pilgrims. I had essentially "outwalked" the pace and landed in with people who had started a few days earlier than us. It was a bizarre scene... same bodies, same tired expressions, same dirty clothes, but different people. It was exactly like that Seinfeld episode with the "other Kramer" and "other George." Makes you think, or maybe just me?
DAY 11: Monday, August 10, 2009
Castrojeriz to Carrion de los Condes. 45 km - 9 hrs
Well, I did it. I accomplished one of my goals for the trip: I covered the Marathon distance. Yes, over 45 fill-in-the-blank kilometers across some of the "plain"est land in Europe. The day began optomistically with a beautiful pink to orange sunrise. As I ascended the hilll outside of Castrojeriz, it was possible to look back almost 25 km and see the God-rays over the meseta with the castle mound in the background. An image I definitely won´t forget. From there it was km after km but the time flew as I enjoyed a half-hour conversation completely in Spanish with a woman from Barcelona and was later joined by an Italian I had met earlier in the trip who coaches basketball in Florence.
To fill the rest of the time, you play stupid games. You start counting steps. In case you are wondering, one kilometer for me is exactly 1,223 steps. That took 10 minutes and 31 seconds, exactly. Then I did it again. Same results. At least I´m consistant. I stopped at the 42.6 km marker - the marathon distance - and took a picture. It didn´t have the finish line or crowds of people, but the feeling of accomplishment is still there. Tonight I´m going to google if there are any marathons in Europe during September, cause I´m on it!
DAY 12: Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Carrion to Sahagun. 41 km - 8 hrs, then TRAIN TO LEON
After all I´ve been through in the last 3 days, sitting on the shaded patio of the Sahagun train terminal with an ice cold cervesa is about as close to heaven as I´ve come on this adventure. Here the mood is relaxed, summery even (if that is both a word and a way to feel.) Two elderly gentlemen are pacing back and forth in front of me - exactly 52 steps in each direction - while wearing the standard issued Spanish gentleman uniform of grey slacks and checkered shirt. They have both accessorized with a cane and bowler´s hat. I chat casually with a man in Spanish (my skills are improving daily) and discover he too is a pilgrim, headed back to start where I just came from. I keep from warning him about the meseta. After 10 minutes we come to our conclusion - each pilgrim´s Camino is his own.
Do to my limited time, I´m taking the train 70 km into Leon, which will save me two days of walking. Do I feel bad? Heck no. The last three days I´ve busted out the equivalent of 3 MARATHONS - 40, 45, and 41 km respectively. Today was the definition of monotonous. Someone from the Crayola Crayon company could have done the same journey and only added a few colors to the yellow palette: dry wheat, dead crops, and midday sun. And while I´m on the subject, don´t think as an 8 year old I wasn´t on to the fact that BLUE-GREEN and GREEN-BLUE were the same exact color. I order another cool drink.
At this moment I feel a lot like Hemingway, jotting in my moleskin notebook. I catch the stare of another local and nod. In the distance, a rooster crows. Funny how cliche that sounds, but also funny that it actually happens every morning and evening here in Spain. It´s like the 1950s here, except the cars get better gas mileage and the internet costs 1 euro for every 20 minutes. I wish I had a longer zoom lens as 120mm does not let me be discreet enough. I stop writing because everything feels like a Haiku.
Maybe the Albergue in Leon will be confused when I arrive in flip-flops, claiming to have started the day 120km away. I laugh about this. Then arrive 45 minutes later having just stopped for a hamburger at McDonald´s... they don´t laugh.
Leon to Hospital de Obrigo. 34 km - 7.5 hrs
Leon was better than be expected, and I woke up late having stayed (dare I say) at a hotel and not the pilgrims hostel. Yes, it wasn´t the McDonalds that through them off, but rather the fact that they shut their doors at a miserly 9:30pm. This was just not going to cut it, so I found an amazing little hotel behind the Cathedral and splurged on a good nights sleep and some privacy.
On a hot summer evening, there isn´t a better place to be than a large Spanish town. They are just bursting with life. I wandered through the old town, oggling at the beautiful architecture and the "dropped from heaven" Cathedral. When dusk hit, a bank of lights lit it up like an angelic building with a white glow. No joke. I found a packed restaurant with a standing room only bar inside, and ordered my meal by pointing at the people next to me. When the "Plato Degustacion" arrived, I was delighted to find a combination of spicy ground beef, molé, red peppers, and grilled potatoes, OH MY, with warm bread. I paired this with a local red wine for less than 10 euro. Feeling full and happy, I wandered into the Plaza Meyor where the buildings make for a photographers dream. I finished the night by listening to a free live jazz concert in front of the Cathedral... then finally, my own bed! Life is good again.
J. Twice
3 comments:
VERY impressive!
Keep going and good luck however far this journey takes you!
Being alone with your own thoughts for a long time is an amazing experience isn't it. Some thoughts you like and some you don't but they are all in there. Very proud of your accomplishment.
Terry
I especially like day 7*8 posts. The dirt, the negativity, all the bad things that people don't tell you. I know preparing is not just walk traing and having the right backpakc and footwear. There is a mental aspect to it also. thanks for sharing the grit!!
Rita
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