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Journeying in Spain.The After-Story

After the Olvidado, and walking an interesting, solitary, often challenging and always surprising Camino in North West Spain –

So the twists and turns continue, but another sort of moving through. Organising where to sleep and eat is easier and there is no arrow chase ( following the path). Communication is easier. But now there are different discoveries.

Train and bus travel, for example, has its own set of learnings:

Book early

Get onto the right platform and into the correct carriage (or you may find yourself somewhere unplanned )

Move on and off very fast ( Spanish trains do not wait).

Carefully navigate the steep, wide gap between train and platform.

Yesterday in Ourense we sauntered to the train station to book the train to Salamanca for the following day. Surprise. Nothing for another 2 days. Off to bus station. Yes said the grumpy guy behind the one office open on a Saturday afternoon “ Diez y Cinco “

A la noche ? Just a sort of what else and a mutter back ( four and a half hours arriving at 3.am)

Anyway after more discussion with the much nicer train woman we managed to get the train this morning as far as Zamora and bussed from there. So here we are in another beautiful city just about to go and find one of the many plazas, and a wine, or beer. And watch,

In the meantime there is lots to keep me engaged:

The unexpected: last night in Ourense I opened the door of a small church just off the main plaza to hear sweet pure voices chanting and there in front of the altar was a mass of whiteness, the nuns in prayer. After a while one of them came forward, veil over her face, and unlocked the fence separating nuns from the rest of the church. She resumed her seat and in walked the priest. He moved to the altar and took out the gold monstrance (a vessel in which the concentrated host is displayed during certain ceremonies, in this case an Exposition of the Sacrament). A short ceremony while nuns chanted and sang. Then off the priest went and the gate was locked again. So young, such sweet voices.

A host of white garbed silent young women in prayer at the front of the church They are a cloistered congregation Madre M Rosario Del Espiritu Santo. A life of silence and solitude spent in prayerful meditation of the Sacred Heart

Gives a better view, from brochure of their congregation

We had drinks on the the small plaza next door, and they were still there later.

Thermal springs in Ourense. All along the Mino river are the Termas, most of them free. You can fling yourself into the cold water and then make your way back to one of the warm baths in the rocks.

At least some people can fling. I had to watch my feet over the stones ! Still great though

Market on Sunday morning in the Plaza. The books are the same as in any second hand book stall: Grisham, Cornwell,Travel and Memoir, the Lucy Walker type Romances, the Twilight trilogy, Kama Sutra, Self help books and classics: Dickens, Austen, Hemingway. Just all in Spanish.Some interesting poetry, but one I fancied was an old book and €20. So I ended buying a €2 title. First paper book have had for 5 weeks

“Constellations on opening the fridge” Great title but just started reading the poems

The Bike Rally we walked into the same morning , next to the Sunday Market.The Main Street was closed off and the area was packed with families on their bikes. There was a long build up to a family cycle circuit it seemed while toddlers walked their small bikes towards stairs and older children did wheelies, Much falling off and crying and laughing from adults. Finally everyone up took off led by guys in motor bikes,

Lots of getting ready and everyone out to cheer on

It’s the daily life that is most interesting , and maybe that’s always the case: churches and rituals, markets, bike rally. And , of course, Food. Last night in Ourense I had grilled vegetables and pulpo

Most of all I love sitting with a coffee or glass of wine and watching and listening to this Spanish world go by. How lucky I am to be here, now.

Underneath all this, though, an underlying life is reassembling . We’re speaking to family at home more now as the phone connection is better, off the mountains, and I find myself looking at family photos. I try to hold the home stories at a bit of a distance, where they actually are, I cannot rush in physically. But I still nearly move in emotionally. The walking keeps all this at bay. But maybe it’s time to get back into that familiar world .

Thank you Adelle for sending me the photos of our house with flowers blooming. I left at the end of winter,

The After – Story: it’s a winding down from the main adventure. Gradually life at home sifts through the layer of doing and seeing and experiencing; the quietude becomes less steady.

There’s a different sort of holding on now. A consciousness of a goodbye and a letting go . I feel rather like Max in my favourite children’s story Where the Wild Things Are

After his magic journey, home called and he

“…. sailed back over a year

and in and out of week

and through a day

and into the night of his very.own room “

I will need my own room soon.

Spanish speak about ‘otra causas’, other things, vague. My vague other is slowly assuming shape and I think I’ll be wanting to return. Only not just yet.

Here I am Salamanca! Plaza Mayor,recognised as one of the most beautiful plazas in Spain. Salamanca, El Dorado, the golden city because of the golden tinted sandstone of its buildings. The Plaza glows.

A Day in Ponferrada

Well…..First impressions are not always right. We got off the bus at the Estacion de Autobus. Well

Then it was a long walk through high rise not especially architecturally beautiful but part of Ponferrada. Doug, walking with me, says it is a good example of what you get when you build only for functionality.

The old town at the top of the hill is completely different.

We walked up the steps, through narrowing streets, past small bars, old houses and still sturdy Roman built walls to the Plaza Mayor.

The Basilica Nuestra Signora de Encina dominates this pleasant square. Renaissance church with a 17 C bell tower.

It’s always much hotter in the afternoon and the sun reflects from the stonework underfoot. We were happy to reach our Hostal right in the Centro Historico, our balcony window facing the enormous Castle. The buildings here are big and square and the Medieval castle is the largest I have seen. It has moats and drawbridge and houses a large Knight’s Templar library.

Happy to reach our room. This photo shows only a tiny bit of the castle opposite.

And there we were. Comfortable and cool. We sat outside late afternoon and evening sipping our wines and watching the passing parade of tourists and perigrinos. Ponferrada is on the Santiago route and peregrinos enter the city just down from the castle.

We did look around later and found the chapel of the Convento de la Purisma Conception. A non intrusive, small space in contrast to the towering castle and Basilica. I loved it. It seems the Convent was once the home of the Franciscan nuns and this is their chapel.

And the Basilica at night. The sculpture in front represents the Story of the Virgin of the Live Oak (Virgen de la Encina). ****

And now I’m going back to the beginning, revisiting Ponferrada City, although it may have had no historical or artistic merit, it’s the place where people shop and live. Also I quite enjoyed the other part of our day in Ponferrada: a visit to Carrefor, recharging my Orange phone no, and buying 3€ flip flops.

So purchases complete we made our way back through the older part to the far more picturesque, historical precinct where we were staying, I actually felt most comfortable in this “midway” part of the city. Just is. Not especially heritage, not especially beautiful, not built on or over. Pretty grotty in parts but people here going about their day. No tourists or peregrinos.

BUT the most exciting part of my day in Ponferrada: I have some sort of shoes to wear instead of my boots, so no need to walk around on cold or sticky floors, or dirty my socks .

Down from the Clouds

So made it through a couple of electric fences. And fended off two dogs who looked like wolf hounds. I’m told that they are some innocuous sounding breed .But I like a dramatic story.

Dramatic?, Did this with 2 , but others had handles you could hold to open the wire

A while ago, a century ago it seems , we were floating in La Magia de las Nubes, one of the most, yes magic, places to stay on this Camino Olvidado..

In this beautifully creative and loved house live Ana and Laura. As kind and creative as their home. Yes, houses can be kind too. I guess they become part of the people who live in them.

We arrived at the edge of Riello, after 5 hours walk, a bit wet and very weary. We waited as prearranged at a restaurant until Laura and Ana finished work, then they drove us a short way to the place in the clouds. Literally.

The following morning we looked out the windows to the early mist hanging over the mountains.

Caught one of the four cats in this photo !

We’ve completed the Olvidado.This pretty and comfortable enough town is on the peregrino trail towards Santiago. We’re here because this is where the Olvidado ends. Pleasant, easy, people, with lots of peregrinos passing through. More in five minutes here than we have seen on all of the Olvidado. How one part of me still longs for the Olvidado’s solitariness and silence. And La Magia de las Nubes is a memorable part of our journey in North Western Spain.

Look, it’s so far from those dogs , and even further from where I am now about a week later.

There we had a comfortable bed, great food (the best ensalada I have had on the path) and interesting conversations: About our families, about the area (7 houses occupied at the moment, 32 churches in the area, and a number of major historical buildings in need of restoration). We spoke also, of course, of our separate countries.

In the morning after breakfast Laura dropped us off on the road out of Riello. We were back on the road. A still lovely road but definitely down from the clouds. Electric fences are one thing, I could just crawl under them, but Spanish dogs are another. These ones just wanted to walk with us, but so big.

They shadowed us all the way to the next village. They waited for us at each bend, and leapt out as we reached them! But they were friendly, just big and playful.

We arrived at the albergue minus our escorts, the old Benedictine Monastery. Very different from the night before. But I guess that’s what makes this Olvidado so special. It is so changing, so unexpected, and challenging. From warm bed and good food, simpatica hosts, to welcome beds in what used to be part of an historical monastery, Cooked some pasta and beans bought from the bar/ tienda down the road. It’s all in a days walk. It’s all part of choosing to walk this way.

Fabada beans, noodles and remains of tortilla. Albergue has kitchen . Yum

Es la vida

BUT do stay at La Magia de las Nubes

You’ll love it .

Trying to Walk in a Relaxed Manner.More Camino Musings

I started writing this a week ago while I was trying to follow the late John Brierley‘s wise words.This piece is, in part, a thanks to the gentle and generous man who walked many Camino kilometres in Spain and shared not just directions but his humour and joyous approach to life with others. He died a few months ago just after completing another Camino.

The first Camino I walked, the Frances, many years ago and I really didn’t have a clue. I just thought I’d get on the road from St Jean Pied de Port and walk. Of course the very first day I took the “alternative” route, the Napoleon way, and got horribly lost. I had little Spanish, but of course thought I knew a lot, and wondered why the few villagers I passed kept on waving their hands at me, and why there was no one else behind or in front. Even 14 odd years ago there were heaps of peregrinos like me, all setting off to find or rediscover or sort out their lives. Even then I was half cynical and half a believer – only not sure in what.

Anyway I eventually made my way back down to the main route and started again. But I’d already done 20km or so, and had 20:25 to get to the first albergue. I made it, just, and collapsed into a bunk shivering. It turned out that the Napoleon route was not safe at that time of year because of the possibility of sudden snow storms. The mountain pass is high and just the day before a pilgrim had died on the Napoleon from exposure.

The caution about walking was in Brierley’s book, I think maybe his first guide. I met a woman who was following his guide.

I dismissed some of the contemplations then but not the two nuggets: walk in a relaxed manner and be vigilant. In those days there was no wikiloc and if you missed a flecha, the yellow arrow that marks the route, you could walk a long way off course.

And now, so long after that first Camino, I’m still struggling with the advice. I either walk along in a dream world, a writing/ photo world – looking for my story, or tear along trying to keep up with my companion. When I’m moving faster I’m also often full of emotions that are not really conducive to any contemplation, or composing.

The other day we started off early from Fasgar, a great little spot on the Olivado Camino in North West Spain. Me, my long suffering compadre and Elaine, an Irish peregrina we met a few days ago – a fast walker. Up the hill and early morning and a faint breeze. Some trees covered in red berries alongside. Then an absolutely magnificent view over the top of the summit. A once in a lifetime sight.

The site of battle in 981 with the Moors. Campo de Santiago. Santiago appeared to help the Spaniards defeat the Moors. 70,000 lost their lives .

A stroll down in the soft grass underfoot to the Ermita built to commemorate the battle that took place in this peaceful spot.

Then, after looking for a while, and I swear you could feel a sort of resolution of that long ago struggle and and the many deaths, well then it seemed like full speed ahead.

Down from the soft curve in the mountains, leaving the valley on a steep path with slippery, moving rocks underfoot, still very beautiful with rain forest type vegetation, clear running river underneath, small bridges. But here I had to be mindful . Of stones underfoot, of not tripping and turning an ankle, losing balance. All those ‘be careful be careful!’ messages that resonate in an older head! I was slow.

Meanwhile my walking companions were moving at a good pace (my nasty mind was thinking, to get to the food before the Restuarante closed at 2 pm. Ha he’s upped his pace to keep level with her/ hope he trips ). Then, inevitably – Why am I so slow? Why am I last ? Again.

Only one I have took of the descent as too busy keeping on my feet and keeping up ! ( see how far behind I am )

The last 4 kilometres were the worst, always the last few are the worst. Seemed an endless pushing through without any stops at all, down a fairly easy path, to Igüeña,

Yes. We made the food. Great meal. Great cervesa. Albergue well looked after and only us three there.

But didn’t travel the second bit in a relaxed manner. Tried.

I hazard a guess that this is how my life is anyway: a struggle to find the balance between moving in a relaxed manner and just leaping in. Also that there are others like me. There you are : Caminoing is a training for life!

And many thanks John Brierley because you have inspired, helped, challenged kindly so many of us walking Caminos. You are truly “the father of the Camino family” (Irish Times Obituary).

Underneath the Spreading Chest Nut Tree……And??

Chestnut tree forests near Noceda del Bierzo

I started writing this 2 months ago while walking the Olvidado in Spain . I was trailing behind on the path which wound through a chestnut plantation . I looked ahead : two figures in front of me consulting the wikiloc to check directions, partly obscured by a huge chestnut tree. I stood in the shade and the words of the rhyme just kept repeating in my head .

Do you remember the rhyme? My grandmother loved chanting nursery rhymes with a clear moral, my mother French songs and ditties . But it was my father who performed all the action rhymes. Ride a Cockhorse, This Little Pig Went to Market, and the other pig one where the little pig “ ran to save his bacon “ as the lightening flashed and the thunder roared.

Most of those rhymes ended with tails chopped off, being boiled alive or captured. So the Chestnut one was a favourite with the actions : chest / nut /tree and then the romance of the baby on his/ her knee. In those days sure as eggs the baby was on a her knee.

Only now walking under this chestnut on a path in Northern Spain do I think of the ramifications of the song and the possible people that could sit on that knee. Or who might have sat on mine through the years, or whose knees I could have been on !

The spreading tree of my childhood, the tree of the rhyme, provided shelter and certainty. Now of course I sense an intimation of possession and control . Also, I’m reading Orwell’s 1984 again, with the voice from the telescreen singing about selling each other : ‘ There lie they, and here lie we/Under the spreading chestnut tree’. Betrayal again. But that is now, not then. Ambiguity, and subtext did not figure in my childhood .

Far from that childhood of laughter and straightforward meanings, I walk along the narrow, shaded path under the chestnut , looking at the other chestnuts spread across the immediate landscape and wonder about narrow escapes . I can’t be specific here but there are brief flashes in my mind of an Irishman with piercing blue eyes and a beautiful voice (and a drinker), the Spaniard during Franco’s time who took me to cell meetings ( so exciting to a 22yr old) , the English guy so kind ( boring) , the rugby hero at University who took me to the ball ( and dropped me because I wore my silly heart in a sleeve and in those days was not witty enough ) … I could go on with the list but you get the idea .

But dragging my heels now and walking slowly again . He’s waiting for me, underneath a chestnut tree on the path ahead . So I did find someone under that metaphorical Chestnut tree of my childhood rhyme . Someone who stuck around . Or rather , we both stuck around.

The rhyme ends:

There she said she’d marry me

And we’re as happy as can be

Underneath the spreading chest nut tree

Shelter,longetivity, shade

As much certainty as one can hope for, The older me is aware of the dead and chopped trees here too .

But I’m walking under the sturdy one .

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