Sambasue21

Espana Sola. Letter to Elaine

Querida Amiga

I am back home now with my family, so this is my last Espana Sola.We said goodbye in Avila, the city of Santa Teresa, so I’m writing this for you.

I have just visited the Convento de Santa Teresa, 10 minutes walk from where we stayed in Avila. We spoke often about Teresa, her life, her writing and her struggles with her own demons on the way to faith, The visit raised many of the things we talked about while we walked together.

The Spanish word “ causas” conveys much more than “things”, and the Convento visit encapsulated a causa that has become increasingly persistent, with visits to Spanish churches and historical sites. This last week in Avila, Santa Teresa’s home encircled by its Medieval walls , one causa shouts out to me: where is the humour , the steadfastness, the uncertainty of the woman?Descriptions of the young Teresa mention her beauty and exuberant, extroverted personality. Where, also, in the recreation of parts of her life in the Cathedral and the museum, is the simplicity and directness ?

There is some simplicity. The restored Cathedral on the site of the family home has the original baptismal font where Teresa was christened in 1515 and a model of the sparsely furnished room she lived in while in her first Carmelite Convent. But 17C Church glitter and a somewhat one dimensional, stolid , safe Catholic narrative in the museum beneath threatens to overshadow the 16C persona of Teresa de Cepeda y Alumada. A makeover?

Teresa is celebrated for cutting through the excesses and strictures of the Catholic Convents of her day. She introduced the famous discalced ( sandled) feet covering: the practice of wearing sandals instead of shoes. Prominent 16C mystic and reformer , she founded San Jose Convent and the Discalced Carmelites. Copies of the rope sandals are displayed in the Convento museum.

They also peep out from beneath her robes in some of the more interesting statues and paintings in the museum devoted to her life .

In the display of the last part of her life some of her intelligence and diligence is evident : there are paintings of the saint quill in hand and book on lap, absorbed in writing. These images were produced quite a while after her death.

The depictions of Teresa , Doctor of tbe Church, date from 17C. She is one of the few females whose thoughts and writings are recognised by the Church whose practices she persistently and bravely tried to change in the last 20 years of her life.

As a 15 yr old Teresa read a lot, and wrote in the 15C when most people ,especially women , were illiterate.

Written when she was nearly 60 to the Bishop of Avila province. Under his jurisdiction she founded her first Convent, San Jose.

Most of the museum focuses on her early life as a young girl,(and holy from the start , which she wasn’t), her saintliness, and her ecstasies.

Where is Teresa de Cepeda y Alumada in all this? Born 1515, she entered the Carmelite Convent in Avila in her twenties following her father’s wishes. She struggled with faith and was unwell for a long time , until in 1555 she apparently had a spiritual awakening.

She was interrogated by the Inquisition, her writing examined, ordered to be silent. She lived and spoke out in dangerous times and her mysticism was viewed as of the devil.There were disputes with the Bishop , and the reports even went to Rome.

My pervading image of Teresa is of an older woman making her way steadily along the hot dusty path from Avilla to Tormes , wearing those cumbersome Carmelite robes, sandled feet. As she went she founded Convents ( total 30 in different parts of Spain) . She was unwell a lot of the time and died at 67 in Alba de Tormes.

Her last words , reportedly, were

“ After all I die as a child of the Church “

In the last section of the museum numerous saints surround Teresa, in various postures of ecstasy or martyrdom , and of course most of them are men. St John of the Cross was a good friend , and a supporter when she established new convents and monasteries. But here he intrudes in her story.

I went on to the Cathedral, built over the family home. As I said earlier, there was the original baptismal font and a model of the room she lived in when she first joined the Carmelites . However alongside right alongside is the splendid chapel. It feels like she has been lifted out of that plain room to glitter and money. I think Teresa would object, or at least chuckle at the absurdity ,

I managed to coincide with a mass being said and so the Cathedral was quiet.

In the silence and the age old ritual of the mass, I let go of cynicism and doubt. Grace found a way through. I recalled Santa Teresa’s words;

“Let nothing disturb you, nothing frighten you, all things are passing. God is unchanging”

Maybe it was the Saint , maybe … But I shared that grace with you my friend.

Ve con Dios , with grace. Buen Caminos to both of us on our home turf .

Con abrazos

Susana

Espana Sola No Longer. Back in the Hood and a Letterbox Experience

This as not about Spain, or travel, or anything important really. Just about letter boxes: my neighbourhood’s letterboxes.

I have just spent the last two hours walking the streets putting invitation cards into peoples’ letterboxes. Small, pretty, well designed cards inviting the neighbourhood to a community event at the local Community Center. A group of local artists are exhibiting their work; a variety of artworks – paintings, sketches, ceramics, sculptures. There is a glass of champagne on arrival, music performances, and you can even have your portrait done. There is lots to look at and enjoy.

Opening 5 June , 6-8 pm . Artists of North Fremantle

Well it’s a lovely sunny beginning of winter day and I’m happy to be out and about. I walk quickly from letterbox to letterbox and drop in the invites. Sometimes I have to squeeze it past the accumulated newspapers or letters blocking the opening. That’s alright.

But what does surprise me a little is the quantity and diversity of messages which clearly indicate a reluctance to engage. Bald instructions are stuck, sometimes glued, to the front of boxes :

No Junk Mail. Thank you. Is the most common, in a variety of sizes, scripts and skill.

Actually there is not a wide range of language. Sometimes the No junk mail , has an addition of No newspapers or circulars or No Advertising material.

I wonder how long the newspaper has been here

Towards the end of the morning I am confronted by multi-layered letterboxes lined up at the back of apartment blocks. All with the labels. Decisions, decisions, do I put cards in them or not. I decide not.

I know some people will disagree) what constitutes junk mail? What is rubbish/junk for some may be of value for others. I wonder, too how much extraneous stuff or junk we all have within our walls and lives.

It is very quiet, almost deserted, few people walking or children playing and no one chatting to me or to anyone else over the fence. Small square houses take up the entire block interspersed with large apartment blocks with small balconies facing a green, silent landscape. So different from my last few weeks in Spain, no small shops or bars underneath here, and it’s difficult to hold a conversation with people passing by.

Anyway, it was interesting to see the variety of letterboxes from the ones making a stand out statement to the simple, easy to spot, one’s that didn’t catch my fingers or need two hands to operate. If you come I hope you enjoy the Art Exhibition .

Espana Sola. Reflections from Hotel Window

Looking out the window into the courtyard/ pigeon sanctuary below. There are literally about two dozen pigeons living here , coming and going and cooing whatever messages pigeons coo to each other . But I have only captured one on camera . They disappear in a near silent flutter of wings each time I raise my phone.

Why , you may wonder, pigeons ? I don’t even particularly like them . But the last few days in this very lovely hotel with the odd name Antika Snoga( yes you may chuckle) I’ve lived with their constant cooing and whirring of wings. It’s a comforting sound that blends with the church bells constant ringing ( there’re a lot of churches here.)

My amiga has just left to continue her walk in the Levante and today in Avila is my last Espana Sola day . A change . A pause before returning home. I miss my companion although we were only together for a week,

There’s been a lot of reflection these last five weeks away . Right now though it’s about peace and grace . These birds,really scavengers and plump and relaxed and happy it seems just to fly around cooing,, lend a sort of assurance to life. A quietitude in the middle of a very peaceful, uneventful city.

Sure, there’s stuff to see. Here’s the Avila Cathedral, considered to be the first Gothic cathedral in Spain . Although in reality there has been a lot of rebuilding snd the most beautiful part is the gothic that remsins

This part is full of colour and curved ceilings decorated with intricate roses

And the walls that measure.2.5 km, with 87 turrets and 9 gates . Built between 11th and 14th century , they are a great example of Romanesque architecture . Built on the remains of Roman fortifications to defend against the Moors .

But yesterday the most remarkable thing was not the cathedral or the long walls surrounding this city, but some interactions; grace .

Yesterday afternoon we were walking towards the start of the Camino to Gottarendura . Way off the point and winding around hills and on the wrong side of the huge walls. Along comes a dapper looking man with a small black bag on shoulder , neat T shirt, clean walking pants and walking shoes . “ Donde va?” he asked as we pored over maps.

He walked with us for half an hour right round to the other side of the wall , talking along the way about the city and where to go , what to see. He’d worked for the post office and now retired was on a break in Avila . A sweet, quiet, interested man who shook our hand when we reached the Mirador viewing point , and the start of the path to Goturrendura .” Encantado de conocerlo” and he left .

There were other interactions yesterday: the old man strolling up to the mirador walking stick in hand who talked to us about his four grown up children who all live away from here,, how he spends his day living alone, and commented on the contemporary poor enunciation, by Spaniards, of the Spanish language. “Hasta luego “, the sweet woman in the bar where we stopped in the late afternoon sun . She came out with tapas and cold beers for E4 (. $8); the guy with 2 dogs sitting in another cafe who opened my water for me with “ necesitas comer mas “ and a chuckle.

These are small events but they brought light into the day. Moments of grace.

Like those quite ordinary pigeons , grace is just here, waiting to be seen

So now I’m off to explore Avila some more.

I’m aiming to go to Convento de Santa Teresa , the mystic and church doctor , who wrote

“Let nothing disturb you, nothing frighten you, all things are passing . God is unchanging…..”

Those pigeons are driving me crazy.

Espana Sola.Girando y Girando***Forever, it Seems.

Well the last few days of our Camino Improvisado have been exactly that : a turning and turning. Girando y Girando. Physically as we search for paths and signs and wind around steep hills. Mentally as I am forced back on my own resources. Thoughts and emotions gather momentum as certainty diminishes and doubt creeps in.

We were so prepared. Yes a long day from Torrijos to Escalona, so taxi a short distance to Masqueda, leaving 17km on foot. A reasonable distance and an enjoyable walk.

It was exciting when we found the first Camino Levante sign.

The next few hours were all a Camino can be : fields and flowers, soft grass underfoot , a bit of mud.

Until the last bit. Bitumen and the inevitable slog uphill into Escalona.

All said and done an ok day. Tomorrow San Martin and a neat 22km.

The next day we were dropped off at Almorex, leaving 22 km of great walking , we thought.

So sure we were that I impatiently shrugged off a conversation with a fellow walker from Sydney, at our first coffee stop.( Poor guy had been walking solo for a good 2 weeks and was pleased to be able to talk. Sorry Sydney guy). If I’d engaged with him I would have known that the turn off was very near our coffee place. Instead, I strode off for a good 8 km , with hard bitumen underfoot and cars whizzing past on the N 420.

Elaine checking maps about 2 hours into our walk

So. 8 km on the boring, hard, dangerous highway. But fortune shines briefly. We find an alternative path that will connect us back to the Camino . Off we go: through a gap in the electric fence and along a muddy country path . No more traffic.

How clever. Lunch on a rock with a view of the valley beneath. It was a lively half hour or so. Until we no longer saw the Camino sign. Ever hopeful we ploughed on ; the path continued to wind on itself and we kept going. It was no longer fun ; just hard work as I walked and slid my way towards a destination that seemed to slip sideways as I approached. Actually the path was avoiding the private land fenced off with a clear message “ Privado “.

Finally met up with Eileen and then we’re into San Martin. 27 km of walking and my legs can feel it.

This is the Camino though. So we turn into the Hostal El Pilar in the uninspiring San Martin and plan tomorrow. To Cebreros.

Worse was to follow on our third day. Off we set, a bit stiffly after the long climb the day before. Up the hills we’d just torturously come down . Again we slogged up the bit of interminable bitumen and round and round the gyre . Surely the Levante sign to Cebrecos our destination today, was nearby ?

Well , we’d passed it miles down the path all the way back . So off we set. To repeat the slithering and slipping down and up and down to the bottom . In the hottest part of the day and water was nearly finished .

Resourceful we are, though. Elaine called a taxi . Half an hour and there we were in El Rondon hotel , Cebreros . From La Salve ( salvation) to El Rondon ( random/unexpected/ surprising). More of that later.

Now: Resolutions, again

Be kind and listen

Take time to check and look

Be alert

Start walking early

*** Ref. I WB Yeats.The Second Coming.

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre”

……….The gyre metaphor encapsulates the cyclical nature of history where periods of stability and order are followed by periods of chaos and decline. I’m borrowing the metaphor though to convey the frustration, confusion and sense of being swirled around in a circle without end. The fragile sense of order we cling to can disappear, and often does, while walking along unknown paths .

Espana Sola. Un noche Magia .

Sometimes it just happens . Magic unfolds . Tonight in Escalona ( Central western Spain , North of Toledo. La Mancha. Cervantes country), after a meal in the bar opposite where I’m staying :

I went for a walk. Back to the castle at the entry to the town. We passed by as we staggered up the hill at the end of yesterday’s walk. But here it is this evening just as the sun is setting.

The best part of the evening : Two kids whose photos I took came by and wanted to see. After an involved conversation I got the photo to them. Cheeky lovely kids .

Then I walked past the place I’d photographed . I wished I could stay. This is La Mancha, Don Quixote country after all . I feel a bit of a failure ,

Looked like more magic. But maybe not , and maybe just as well I headed back to sleep . Tomorrow’s another walking day .

But this whole town is alive . I passed our bar , full of people now at 10.30 pm . They’re just starting up. I’m ending my day.

Isn’t that magic? Buenas Noches.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: