Gifts for El Catorce

In anticipation of your homecomings, a few words of gratitude for my lovely traveling companions.

Adrian (Downward Dog): Well done, good sir! You've mastered the Code of Chivalry and passed the Wisdom-with-Women Proficiency Test, so your next lesson is on historical examples of true gentlemen. (And if you haven't tried the book yet, required reading!)

Andrea (Black Bear): "And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend..." -- "For Good" from Wicked
<3 <3

Ariana (Time Bomb): You are my hero.  (But actually.) Also, in honor of your love for The Hunger Games, here is my favorite movie when I was 12, featuring Baby Peeta!

C.C. (Cherry Legs): Breathe. You got this, whatever this may be. Remember that you deserve the world, Cecilia Hamilton Weyland.

Emily (Protein -- though I think Blonde Blazes works too): Words of wisdom from one of my favorite singers to another:
"You've got to get up every morning with a smile on your face
and show the world all the love in heart...
You're gonna find, yes you will, that
You're beautiful as you feel" -- by Carole King
How beautiful you already are, my dear.


Erica (The Amazon Godmother): I am continually astounded by your ability to meet people where they are, to make them feel taken seriously and understood and supported.  So, here's a list of my school's peer counseling groups, because I think you need to start one at Santa Cruz so that more people can benefit from your gift for empathy! (Also, completely unrelated and just for fun: :D )

Gabriela (Lil' Momma): Battlestar Galactica. And a story I just emailed you from this week's New Yorker, written by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Love your guts.

Jemima (Brie): I must confess (a la Rousseau) that I have never read his The Reveries of the Solitary Walker, but I saw the title and thought most fondly of you!  P.S. Everyone who read my blog loves your name and your gumption, as do I. :)

Julia (Hellcat): Well this has gotten very meta.  Hello self.  I give you the inexplicable collection of little lights in the Los Angeles harbor, maybe docks or moored boats, set against the heavy darkness of sky/land/sea, looking for all the world from the tiny plane window like a field of stars, your compostela come home.

Kevin (Virgil): I most highly recommend Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows: "And you, you will come too, young brother; for the days pass, and never return, and the South still waits for you. Take the Adventure, heed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes! Tis but a banging of the door behind you, a blithesome step forward, and you are out of the old life and into the new! Then some day, some day long hence, jog home here if you will, when the cup has been drained and the play has been played, and sit down by your quiet river with a store of goodly memories for company."

Mariela (Lucy A.K.A. Thor in the Sky with Diamonds): Hey Buddy-For-Life!  Can't wait for our Doctor Who screening!  In the meantime, your very own personal favorite quote come to life. (It's a little glitchy, apologies!)

Marina (Beatrice): An addendum to my tales of Vietnam (yes, that is an elephant trunk).  Thanks for being the best surrogate Mama Duck ever!

Tim (YouTube): Thank you again for the pulpo -- it literally changed my life!  Also, inspiration for your next global adventure: a very cool documentary miniseries (which we watched in OCHSA's geography class, actually) called The Long Way Round about two guys who motorbike around the world. 

Tristan (The Bald Eagle/Elf): I Facebook-connected you to my Brony friend from Harvard, so go debate the physics of Ponyville 'til Twilight Sparkle turns orange.  You're welcome.

Things We Lost on the Camino

- 1 boot, 3 pilgrim's credentials, 1 passport (each later recovered)
- 1 pair of XL men's flip flops
- 1 sports bra
- all sense of shame
- 1 comb
- 5 towels
- taking for granted showers and beds and full-size napkins and machine-washed clothes and toilet paper
- 1 bottle of lotion
- 3 bottles of shampoo
- 4 bottles of conditioner
- 5 bars of soap
- good hygienic practices
- 1 pilgrim's shell (stolen)
- 2 pairs underwear
- privacy
- 1 glasses lens
- 1 bottle of sunscreen
- 2 hats
- 4 hiking poles
- any apathy toward the amazing capacity of our bodies
- 2 bandanas (both mine)
- if only by a single pebble, the stony imperviousness of the walls barricading our hearts

All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter

And so it ends: the steady march westward, through dappled forest light and unyielding wheatfields, over rocky mountains and under graffitied highways, all the way to a crumbling cathedral and the sea. 

I'm leaving the rest of the group in Paris, where they will have heaps of exciting adventures and eat an unabashed number of quiches, crepes, and chocolate croissants.  Live long and prosper, my friends.

As for me, I'm off to the home front, where my mother is on track for a full recovery from brain surgery and my father is martyring himself to get everything done and my little sister is as snarky and way cooler than I am as ever.  (Hi family!!!!!!!) I'll be updating this blog over the next week with more Let's Go posts, so please keep checking back for more tidbits of insight into my trip.

I want to thank you, kindly readers, for your comments and your messages, but also for the incredible gift of your attention in a harried world. I hope I have shared with you not only moments of exhiliration, but also what one pilgrim described as the "
"reservoir of calm" that emerges on this journey, the unexpected yet inevitable understanding that regardless of where you are in time or place or belief, there exists within you a space of breath and awareness, of gratitude, a patient blue sea at the edge of the world just waiting for you to loosen your toes' grip on the rocks and lean forward and let yourself go.

Buen camino.

Safely Arrived in Paris!

We are here!

Postscript: How We While Away 6 Hours in an Airport

Hasta Que Nos Vemos Otra Vez

Our last night in Santiago we watched the light show on the cathedral. My favorite was the psychadelic dancing sea monster.

This morning we gathered up everything and rushed a picture of our sock tans and walked in golden light on the old streets and caught our bus to Porto.

Look for the next post from the City of Lights.

Of Pine Trees and The Sea

We took the bus to Finesterre yesterday, Andrea and Tristan and I, winding through the hills until we reached the coast.

Seeing that first flash of blue through the grimy plastic windows washed over me like a homecoming -- the sea.  But we were only an hour into what we thought was a three-hour bus ride, which on the map was about the location of the large lake.  And the water was so still -- we decided this must be a lake, and our hearts quieted with disappointment.

Then the lake kept going and going and going.

And suddenly we were in Fisterra, the town just outside Finesterre.  We rejoiced at the shorter bus ride and renewed permission to get excited by the ocean and then there out the window were Jemima and Mattias!  A most longed-for reunion!

Eventually they got on the bus we'd just left, and the Three Musketeers set off for the end of the world.  We got boccadillos to go, bought snacks at the grocery store, went on a fruitless search for the Jemima-recommended German bakery (but found a panaderia with fresh-baked cake, so all good!), and headed up the hill toward the lighthouse.

Walking along the edge of the highway, in the brush and thorny raspberry bushes, cars zooming by, we saw the gregarious woman from León and her silent friend from Martinique whom we'd passed on the trail weeks before; and there walking down on the other side of the highway were the British boys who'd gotten in a Call Me Maybe battle with Adam and Emmy at Albergue de Jesus.  We had said goodbye to so many people on the Camino expecting never to meet again, and yet we felt no sadness in parting, as if we had always known that we would find them on the side of a mountain by deep green pines flanking the still blue water.

We reached the Faro de Finesterre drenched in sweat and walked past the cheap trinket stands and public art mosaics and lighthouse itself until we came to the rocky point, and all around us was sea.

I climbed down to where lizards darted and the rocks were charred from the pilgrim's tradition of burning something at journey's end.  Mixed with the silence were mournful gulls, the wind that whipped up and tussled my hair, boistrous German tourists.  I threw a coin as far as I could.

We tossed our expensive but cheaply made bocadillos to the gulls and ate cake and oreos for lunch, sitting on the rocks.  Before catching our bus back, there was ice cream, and the hike back down, and we collected sea glass and put our hands in the Atlantic, and I realized that this whole time walking across Spain I had really been bringing my pilgrim's shell back home.

Sightsee, Shop, and Sleep In!

That's what we did the Santiago!  Susan and Nancy gave the few of us awake at the terribly early hour of 10:30 a tour of the five-star Parador hotel, housed in an historic building.  Stunning.

After bidding Susan and Nancy farewell, we did a bit of shopping, then headed over to the cathedral to explore the side chapels, file past the relic, etc.

The rest of the day was shopping, more shopping, wandering the streets of the old quarter, talking and eating ice cream under a fountain, people-watching in the plaza, and shopping.

From Pilgrim to Tourist

We made the transition rather quickly: After mass ended, we got lunch and went to El Corte Inglés.

After much shopping (Wondering what we bought? Spoilers... :) ), we decamped back to our hotel and relaxed until about 10pm, when the 13 of El Catorce, 4 of the extended Williams clan, and Luuk gathered downstairs.  Suddenly the door opened, and in walked C.C., Peanut, and.... the birthday girl!!!  We sang and then headed to the Valor chocolate for Oreo milkshakes (more milk than shake) and candles and general festivities.

But the party wasn't over yet.  Close to midnight, noise boomed from the central plaza -- underscoring for a lightshow on the cathedral.  We watched the ancient walls and turrets spin, burn, crack, crumble, and open to reveal clockwork.  We followed the man who discovered St. James's bones on a tour of three great world pilgrimages.  There was also a techno party with dancing fish off the coast of Finesterre.

And there you have it: The whole city celebrating the fact that Ariana completed the Camino before the age of 12!!!

Hosanna in Excelsis

We made our way into the city yesterday, walking with some of the extended Williams family, and stopped at a cafe where I ate a delicious raisin pastry, and followed the yellow arrows through the suburbs until we turned the corner and there it was, ornate stone spires and the crumbling majesty of a jungle temple, Angkor Wat in the middle of a sandstone Spanish city, and somewhere a man began playing bagpipes, and we saw Tim and Ariana waiting for us in the plaza with wide smiles, and it was Ariana's birthday, and we took pictures, and we walked around proud cathedral walls that seemed to never end until we arrived at a small opening, and up the wood stairs we went, trembling and tearing, until the kindly British lady in a blue t-shirt directed us to an open window, and we filled out our names and birthdays and points of origin, and suddenly there it was in our hands, our first names hastily translated into questionable Latin, the acknowledgment of the magnitude of what we had just done: our compostela -- and then we were down the stairs lugging our backpacks one last time (though Mariela in her determination for conclusion nearly forget hers) to the little hotel where we were staying, and we unpacked -- unpacked -- and then we were told we must come, Susan and Nancy are in the plaza! and we went and hugged and took more pictures and made plans for later, and went to get the rest of the Williams family and Emmy and Erica from their hotel, and Tim left to walk to Finesterre, and soon it was time for noon mass, the whole group trickling little by the little into the stone-walled, white-ceilinged, gold-altared cathedral, taking up four pews plus a few standing (which was lucky, since the aisles swelled with people), and mass began via loudspeaker call for silence since "you have plenty of time to talk together later," and we listened to the muffled Spanish and hummed to the music, and I made a mad dash to the back for a rather disorderly distribution of Communion, and we were all sitting, tired and restless, when two priests started pushing the huge incense burner (which had been taunting us all service, hanging stone still in front of the altar) and suddenly it was swinging, up, up, up so high we could only see the rope nearly touching the ceiling, and then plummeting like death and then rising again, as if for one moment gravity had disappeared and all things could fly.

Santiago.

The Last Ascent

It was quiet as we climbed to Monte de Gozo, as if the higher we got bits of the Earth fell away, until all that remained was grasses rustling, breeze breathing softly, pilgrims far behind murmuring, a few lone trees -- tall and dark -- and so much sky.

The man running the albergue, with beds for 500 in rows of postapocalyptic motel buildings that end in a deserted commercial center, welcomed us with warmth and perceptive honesty.  He shook our hands and said this was our home and made a joke about the Mexican border.  He told us the hotel restaurant was expensive and the name of the supermarket.  I realize I don't know his name.

The Williams's family came out from Santiago to meet us, an overwhelming wave of excitement and squirrely children and finality.  Tomorrow we walk the 5 km into Santiago, go to pilgrim's mass, get our compostela certificate.  We've already started talking in past tense about our daily routines and helados. Tomorrow, we watch the arc of the massive swinging incense holder in the cathedral, falling toward Earth only to rise heavenward again.  Tomorrow, a passing shadow on the mountain face, an open gate, a long-awaited rest for weary feet already aching to be useful again.

The Never-ending Story: Part Two

So about that tense time in Arzúa.  Turns out everybody had a different idea of how they wanted to reach Santiago.  After much discussion and declaration of feelings, we made a plan.
Erica and Emmy walked 34 km today and will walk into Santiago tomorrow.
The rest of us walked 19 km today. Tomorrow the three Weylands and the Dutch boys will walk into Santiago. The rest will stay 5 km outside the city and walk in on Saturday morning.
And Jemima reached Santiago today, went to mass, and then began the walk to Finesterre.

Today was a quiet walk.  Many, many pilgrims crowding the path, and confusion when we realized our target city of Arca was also named Pedrouzo and a little ways off the Camino.  7 of us are staying in a rather-strict (though brightly-colored) albergue that had a multimedia advertising display built in the middle of a forest, and the other 5 + Dutch boys are camping (by choice).  None of us can quite comprehend that tomorrow is our last full day of walking, or that we're leaving Spain in just a few days.  They say the hardest part of the Camino is continuing to live it after you leave.  Personally, I could do without flies perpetually attacking my face for the rest of my life -- but then again, I'd love to hang on to the ability to eat three ice creams a day without gaining weight. 

Leaving may be more difficult than I anticipated...

The Never-ending Story

Yesterday we began from Palas de Rei actually at 5:30 for once, and it was pitch black outside.  It was like we were walking at night, through all these spooky forested hills.  Something about the cold air or the stark fear or the lack of bathrooms drove us on, though, and we made great time.  Planning to walk 5km, we arrived at the 15km mark fresh-faced and exhilirated.  I even got to try pulpo, a local dish of boiled octopus doused in amazing olive oil, seasoned with spicy paprika, and served with crispy salted french fries.  10 a.m. octopus -- absolutely divine.

Then things started to get a little hairy.  It got hot, and the terrain got rather steep, and the day was getting later.  A temporary reprieve was an honor system fruit standl selling raspberries for a Euro.  But the day dragged on, our feet aching, our brains growing narrow and irritable.  We were outside Ribodiso, the 25km mark, ready to drag ourselves exultantly into the city.

And then we found out we had to walk 3 more kilometers.

It was an honest mix-up with albergue reservations.  Everyone responded differently.  My group, the caboose, added to the days obscene calorie count of ice cream, soda, cookies, and bread by inventing a delicacy of epic proportions: homemade fruit tarts.  Take a knock-off of the already cheap and metallically sweet Principe cookie (2 round biscuits with chocolate cream in between).  Separate the biscuits and place a slice of nectarine and a raspberry on the biscuit with chocolate.  Eat. Be infinitely happy.

After more ice cream and more confusion involving plans to backtrack to Ribodiso, phones dying in the middle of calls, and a hot, hot march up a hill, we made it safe and sound to a private albergue in Arzúa, where the greatest conflict was the battle with the washing machines.

Well, except for the part where the group nearly fulfilled other pilgrims' prophecies and broke like glass into a handful of gleaming, sharp shards.  But that, my dear, is another story.

A Glimpse Worth Walking For

"Why do you walk?" he asked.  It was an oft-repeated question, stale as the processed and packaged answers given in response.  But today was different.

"This," she said, matter-of-fact and gentle,  light glinting off her eye.

Flashback: The Keepers of The Way

Learn more about the real forces that control our lives on the Camino.  You guessed it: the answer lies waiting in another new Let's Go post! http://www.letsgo.com/article/3993-the-spanish-hospitalero-bff-or-frenemy-

A Salad Love Story, with a Dash of Alcohol

Check it out on my newest Let's Go post! http://www.letsgo.com/article/3998-ensalada-mixta-eat-responsibly

Palas del Rei

Here's a lovely little house in town.  Not much going on here.  There are excellent hamburgers at the local bar and packaged donuts at the grocery store.  We are packed like sardines in the huge dormitory, and the showers have no doors.

We did, however, derive a plan for the last week of our trip!  We will arrive in Santiago the afternoon of July 20th or the morning of July 21st and stay in the city at least the 21st, 22nd, and 23rd.  (And of course, we will bus to meet Jemima in Finesterre on the 23rd.) On the 24th, off to Portugal and then Paris!

Want to See Spain, Find God, and Lose Weight?

Tips and advice in my latest Let´s Go blog post right here.

(As a reminder, all of my Let´s Go posts can be found at this convenient link!)

That's July 22nd etc., Not August

A correction for my last post as advised by my mother. :)

Also, here's a picture of some lovely trees we passed this morning.  The mist looked lake-like.

Hello, Goodbye

At least for now, we have adopted Luuk and Peanut, the Dutch boys, into our cohort.  In other news, the group has tentatively revised our plan for the next 8 days. To avoid exorbitant Santiago prices, we're slowing down our approach, hoping to arrive in the city on Aug. 22, bus to Finesterre and back on the 23rd, and train to Porto (and catch our flight to Paris) on the 24th.  What this basically means is that today we only had to walk 12 kilometers, ending in the town (AKA two albergues, several houses, and a taxi) of Ventas. Huzzah!

The lovely Jemima has sallied forth into the Wide World on her own, bravely declaring it's Finesterre by foot or bust!  We hope to meet her in Santiago first if possible. 

The Sound of Silence

One of those misty mornings when your thoughts turn inward, rumbling and ruminating, peppered by sudden intimate revelations to your companions.  Silence is something I've come to more fully comprehend on this walk.  Before, when people said that true friendship is being able to sit comfortably in silence, I always nodded my assent, vaguely understanding about shared individuality and the safety to be yourself.  But out here, walking through the hills or mist or wind-swept meadows, it is something rare and wonderful, to lose yourself in thought alongside a dear friend and feel completely at home.

Ice Cream in Front of the Romanesque Cathedral

Our lives on the Camino in a nutshell.  Or a chocolate-almond shell.

Goings-on in Galicia

We sadly ended our few-day soiree with Peanut, Luuk, Mattias, Bradley, and Adam.
(I have more accurate spellings now!), just because the albergues fill up so quickly. Many pilgrims start in Sarria, just before the required 100km mark. In fact, tonight in the town of Portomarín we've had to split into two albergues. Food and lodgings are getting much more expensive with all the pilgrims. And somehow we still keep bumping into Susan and Nancy!
Other than the crowds, Galicia is gorgeous, a mix of Tuscany and the English countryside. A subtle Celtic flavor infuses every experience, from the bagpipe music in bars to signs in Gallegan similar enough to Spanish to be confusing. Gallegan is the native Gaelic language that most people here speak. It's a little disheartening, to finally feel good about your Spanish and suddenly find yourself met with dirty stares for speaking castellano. We never can escape foreigner status!

100 KM UNTIL SANTIAGO!!!!!!!

Triacastela, Sarria, and Bizcocho Chocolate

Two days ago we walked 27 km, about 16 miles.  In the morning we had chocolate bizcocho, a pound cake with nuts, that was to die for.  A huge piece for only €1.50!  We arrived in the town of Triacastela, narrow streets lined with buildings made of stacked slate.  I got in at 6pm, bought and ate my go-to prepackaged ensalada ligera, and went to bed!

Yesterday we had a much shorter walk -- 19km, ending in the city of Sarría.  Lots of pilgrims start from here.  A plus of civilization: Giant grocery store!!!!!  Instant risotto for dinner, with tomato salad and mango.  As you can see, food defines our days!

A Warm Welcome from Galicia: Rain and Wind

Oh When the Cows Go Marching In

The things you see from the windows of bars...

We Made it To Galicia!

The Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Music...

We sang to get us up the hill to the sleepy hamlet of La Raba.  The showers were really nice.  This matters when you're a pilgrim.

Watching Safely in the Bar with a Glass of Hot Milk

Running of the bulls in Pamplona

As Told By A Boisterous Madrileño Dancing In the Kitchen

"Americans!  Barack Obama for President! Woo woo woo woo!!"

Meet Meredith

And James and Adelaide and Arlo.  That's right, I've named my gear.

Meredith, serene and blue, is my outdoorsy surrogate mother backpack. She's calm and prepared in every crisis, a little overbearing but always comforting.

James is the name of my twin-souled hiking poles.  Paternal, strong, he provides stability for overcoming obstacles and absorbs the shock of difficult realities.  Like mountains.

Arlo and Adelaide, my hiking boots, are James and Meredith's children.  Petulant teenagers, often angsty and painful to be around, they can strangely provide support when I need it most.

And there you have it: The backstops in my moments of hopelessness and exhaustion, ever-stalwart, always ready for whatever I'm about to put them through. I've never felt so much admiration for inanimate objects!

So much pain...

...in our bellies!  In a blustery albergue on a hill in Villafranca del Bierzo, Susan and Nancy treated us to dinner with the sweetest honeydew melon ever, all 19 plus Peanut and Luke.

Battle for the Souls of Pilgrims

A proud tourist (and PAID blogger) wrote a Let's Go post snidely criticizing pilgrims.  Read my response: http://www.letsgo.com/article/3968-95-theses-on-the-power-of-the-pilgrim

As Told By Tristan, Eager Teacher of All Things Gamer/Troll/Brony

"It's a way to get together with your friends, have a great time, and kill things. Mentally."

Tristan explains Dungeons and Dragons. 

Fruits of the Earth

Walking the streets and highways of Spain proves unexpectedly fruitful.  (Apples, plums, and cow halves.)

Reunited and It Feels So Good

Guess who Kevin ran into in the city of Ponferrada this morning? Susan and Nancy, the dynamic sixty-year-old duo! Tonight we expanded our dinner to 19, including Susan and Nancy (who brought delicious almond and coconut cookies), Bradley, Adam, and Matthias. Eggs, chorizo, roasted peppers and onions and tomatoes, cooked potatoes, bread and butter, oranges, and ketchup! We caught up about what had happened while we were apart, shared good moments and scary moments, and laughed, laughed, laughed.

The Camino is strange beast: Families form as fast as they crumble. You may spend days walking with someone, share your story and secrets and dreams, and one day fall a few kilometers behind to get lunch and never see him again. Such intense intimacy, vulnerability, and then such stark loss -- that is the way of the Camino. Most people travel alone or in pairs, and everyone seems impressed that our group of fourteen has lasted this long without splitting up. And yes, there have been moments when we start splintering, when it looks like we can't stay in the same albergue, when some people want to end the day in the same city as new friends while others want to walk a shorter distance, when injury or exhaustion or even loneliness, amidst the camaraderie and the bustle, threaten to tear us apart. But some strength surges through us at the last moment, in the form of compassion or compromise or tears, and holds us fast. We walk onward, westward, towards Santiago, towards ourselves and toward each other.

Overheard from a Sixty-Year-Old Arizonan Named Jo

"I was called to the Camino.  I don't have a reason for coming, I was just called, like I was called to do the Peace Corps."

Front Page of Let´s Go -- AGAIN!!!

www.letsgo.com

¨Celebrating the 4th of July Abroad: American Nationalism vs. Spanish Regionalism¨

:)

Flashback: On (Not) Celebrating 4th of July at the Spanish Public Pool

Potato chips, EuroCup finals, and ¨16 and Pregnant¨  Another new Let´s Go post.

Flashback: Leon, City of Kings

Want to get the real scoop on how we spent our day in Leon?  Read about it on my new Let´s Go blog post!

Three Weeks!

Yesterday marked our third week walking the Camino.  It was a harrowing day in many respects: a rocky and rugged climb followed by an even tougher descent.  Complicating matters further, various group members were stricken by vomiting (probably altitude sickness), constricted breathing (after a tense and terrifying ambulance ride to the hospital, all is well), and general exhaustion.  Because we know we are humans at the whims of circumstance, we´ve decided to return to our goal of walking to Santiago rather than Finesterre.  We still plan to visit Finesterre, but most likely by bus.

We stopped in the village of El Acebo, quaint, cresting a hill.  Further complications arose: the parochial albergue, largest in town, had only 23 beds, and it looked like we would not be able to reserve a bed for Kevin, who was arriving last.  Fortunately, Marina´s devotion and determination won over Pilar, the wise-cracking, clove-cigarette-chain-smoking hospitalera.

For lunch, I devoured the best bocadillo in the world: pork loin and peppers.  Community dinner was at eight.  Gathered around a long table with rickety benches were Pilar, her son Miguel, two German vegetarian girls, a man who only seemed to speak Spanish, the catorce (14), and our haberdash new group of traveling companions: Bradley (age 33) and Adam (age 18), friends from New York; Luke and Peanut (no, not his real name), punk Dutch guys; and Matthias, a friendly young Belgian.  Before the meal, Pilar spoke about how special Marina and Kevin´s 25 years of marriage was, and how we should give thanks to Santiago for the food, the home, and the Camino family.  Then we ate rich lentil soup and crusty bread and fresh, colorful salad and organic cherries de la huerca (from the surrounding area).

After helping clean and put away and prepare breakfast, Bradley, Kevin, Pilar, and I sat on a little table on the patio, drinking chamomile tea with anise, talking and listening while Pilar spoke.  We talked about economics, about marriage, about the Camino, and about living the Camino after you leave.  Pilar met her second husband at a Camino conference; he wrote the French pilgrim song in the movie "The Way.¨  Each year, Pilar uses vacation time from her actuary job in Toledo to work two weeks as a hospitalera, running an albergue, keeping house, buying food and supplies with her own money.  She talked about living simply and reveling in other people.

In the morning there was bread and little cookies and local organic honey, heavy, dark, that spread golden and glistening, and many kinds of jam, and coffee and whole milk and hot chocolate and tea.  We all took pictures, exchanged emails, and before leaving Pilar gave me a kiss on both cheeks.  My first Camino friend.

In the Misty Mountains

Or the highland moors, if you're more Bronte than Tolkien

El Catorce (menos cuatro)

The Pinnacle

The highest point of the Camino.  On Monte Irago, the cross sits atop a rocky mound, strewn with the discarded clothes and cigarettes and Compeed, with flowers, bandanas, and photographs, with messages, and with stones carried all these kilometers to be left here.  I left a note, and the sun came out.

Resting in Rabanal

Rabanal del Camino is a quiet town of reddish stone buildings. Our albergue had a flowery courtyard, excellent sinks for scrubbing laundry (critical when hand-washing), polished slate floors, and huge skylights.  There was a slight breeze; children laughed and scampered around the streets; we ate the best pasta and ham and fried eggs in the world; some people went to hear Gregorian chanting in the monastery; the friends we'be been making from Hungary and New York and England and Luxembourg gathered in the courtyard, talking until late in the night, and we joined in or drifted off to sleep to the music of their voices.

El Peregrino Europeo

The best pilgrim poem I've seen so far.  Here's my (rough) translation:

The European Pilgrim

Walk.
you were born for this camino
Walk.
you have a date.
Where? With who?
Although you don't know it
perhaps with your own self?
Walk.
your steps will be your words
the path your song
fatigue your prayer.
at the end, your silence will speak to you.
Walk.
alone, with others
but come out of yourself
you created rivals for yourself,
you will find companions
you imagined enemies,
you will make friends.
Walk.
your mind doesn't know
where your steps
take your heart.
Walk.
you were born to do this camino,
that of the pilgrim.
Another walks toward you
and looks for you
so that you can find him,
In the sanctuary, the goal of the camino,
in the sanctuary, in the depths of
your heart.
He is your peace.
He is your joy.
Go.
God already walks with you.

A Little Bit of Americana

Sweet Astorga Pics

A Sweet-tooth for Astorga

We walked about 15km away from Villar, had lunch (ensalada mixta is the love of my life), and then took a bus to Astorga, another 15km away, so we could explore.

When we arrived, strange cannon noises inexplicably boomed.  We walked by the multi-colored cathedral, the clocktower where two figurines rang a bell on the hour, and ornate black metal gates. But the best part of Astorga so far: the sweets.

Apparently the city is known for its artisanal chocolate and homemade pastries.  We sampled (and adored) the orange chocolate, almond puff pastry,  mantecadas (a sweetbread), and hojaldres (a honey pastry similar to baklava).  We also devoured our favorite Spanish donuts, more cakey than at home, and this time covered in chocolate fondant.  How sweet it is to be a pilgrim in Astorga!

New dresses from León!

New dresses from León!

Adding our quote to the albergue wall

Don't worry, other people had left messages too.

Flashback: Let´s Go post summary!

A quick and easy summary of my Let´s Go posts to date.  Note: My Let´s Go posts have completely different (and arguably funnier!) content than all the posts on this blog!  Follow my future posts at http://www.letsgo.com/articles/Julia.

How to avoid Paris and book it to The Way

Terrors of surviving the Pyrenees 

Hipster hangouts with outdoor ovens in Basque country

Why Spain is turning me into a barfly

Darwin meets Disneyland in Burgos

Siesta-ing all the live long day

Flashback: Siesta so you can Fiesta!!

Wondering how we´ve been beating the mandatory shut-down of Spain every day from 2 to 5pm?  Read about it at this BRAND NEW Let´s Go blog post.

Flashback to Burgos: Darwin Meets Disneyland

Want to hear how we sailed aboard the HMS Beagle and saw the oldest hominids in Europe?  Check it out here on this Let´s Go post.

The Lion, The Witch, and The Walking Stick

León, city of the lion, former seat of kings, home to buildings by Gaudí and the graves of Roman soldiers and a surprising number of frozen yogurt establishments.   Some of us reveled in finding haircuts and Settlers of Catan at your El Corte Inglés (read: the boys). Others chose to wander your Calle Ancha and ogle the magnificent cathedral.  Still others (me!) chose to follow the lovely Jemima to see red painted medieval ceilings at your Museo de San Isidoro and then make a stop at a German bakery.  León, you were our playground, and how you roared. 

Witchy is an overstatement for the rather fearsome nuns who ran our albergue last night (though some of our party would say I'm being kind).  Besides gender-segregating the bunks, the strict sisters insisted that anyone with bug bites disinfect all their belongings and pay to have their clothes washed.  The doors were locked at 9:30pm and not reopened until 6am.  Breakfast, though free, required waiting in line for a seat to open up at a table for twelve -- at the only albergue in León.  Everyone tried to spend as much time away from the albergue as possible. At least it only cost 5€.

This morning we gathered our packs and walking sticks and hit the road for the first time in two days.  Here in the town of Villar de Mazarife, we are relaxing on the sunny lawn of the albergue, which has a bar with ALL the ice cream flavors and a raised swimming pool and an inexplicable large-scale model of a pirate ship, and also costs 5€.  Our own private Narnia.

But most important of all: YESTERDAY WAS C.C.'S BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!  Happy 18th!