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Day 18: León to San Martin del Camino
Day 18 León-San Martin del Camino 26km
The Italians and I woke in our dorm room to find the Scandinavians had quietly departed. I imagine their blonde hair illuminates the pre-dawn path as they scurry to the next town before the sun comes up and the heat sets in. They are way more advanced than me. We left León without seeing too much of the city because we got in so late the night before. A part of me wanted to stay another day to soak up León but the group persuaded me to go on. I can't resist 6 hours of singing Italians and neither can you.
Today was another hot day and we tacked on a few extra kilometers to the suggested guidebook's "stage" that put us right in the middle of nowhere again. We found an albergue on a hot dusty road between Léon and Astorga. I can't emphasize enough how hot it gets on these roads.The heat from the day radiates off the building walls until 9pm making life impossible to carry on. Since everyone closes their shops or stays inside during the afternoon, it can be difficult to tell if some of the small rural pueblos we walked through were abandoned or semi-used for just catering to the pilgrims. One of the Italians was out of water one day and knocked on every door of the one-street town and no one answered their door.
I have started a new routine of soaking our feet in salt water every night. It is magic.
This night at our alburgue, the Italians and I had the albergue "set pilgrim menu" and the hospitaleros seated us at a table with a French-speaking couple from Quebec and an Irishman traveling solo. Within a few minutes, to break the silence, I asked the Quebec couple to sing me a song from their childhood. Somehow I ask this without sounding crazy, I swear, because I always get people to sing. It's so beautiful.
A word about music here:
I sorely miss my music routine from home. I miss playing music in my car, in my apartment, in my classroom. Since I have been without a car, a home, and a job for the past month, my usual music moments have stopped. I usually take a non-earbud stance in public anywhere but definitely along the Camino. I wanted to hear everything around me. This unexpectedly lead to non-stop singing, not only from myself but from others around me.
--External speakers off, internal headphones way up--
I have run into two California girls a couple of times along the route and they have their iPhones wrapped to their triceps and their earbuds in their ears almost all the time. I don't believe they have talked to many people. This may have been their plan and everyone makes the Camino their own...but I'm so glad I kept the earbuds out and stayed open to what was around me for this trip. I may have never met the Italians.
The Quebec couple, Louise and Gilbert, had started their Camino in Le Puy, France and shared stories in their broken English of their adventures. Louise did, indeed, sing a French children's song to me and I have it recorded. She said they had been singing it all through the Camino in France. She said that for the first 3 weeks of walking, they talked about all their problems from home. After 3 weeks, they ran out of things to talk about so they just started singing. This makes my heart smile so much. Walking makes you sing! Underneath all of the clutter of life, all that is left is song.
The husband and wife have been married for 44 years and in Louise's words, "Our friends are all dead so we decided to walk. We have the time." I asked her to teach me some of the French songs and Antonio made a dramatic comic gesture to remove the bottle of wine near my plate. (This is funny because I would sing without any wine anyway and Antonio is our little Pavarotti when we're walking during the day.) One of the hospitaleros also responded to our singing by bringing out complimentary shots of liquor to our International table of song. Louise concluded our dinner, stumbling to find the right words in English, "You know how some people have dreams? And then some people act those dreams? Well, we have lots of problems at home, like everybody. But we don't just have dreams, we, um, er, we, well, we... do our dreams." Louise will stay with me for a very long time.
Day 19: San Martin del Camino to Astorga to Murias de Rechivaldo
Day 19 San Martin del Camino-->Astorga-->Murias de Rechivaldo 29 km
We carried on and finally came upon beautiful trails again. I believe at some point, we survived La Meseta. There are a lot of fresh-faced, clean packs on the Camino now since a lot of people start in Léon. They probably still have unused underwear, jumbo size shampoo bottles, and fully charged cell phones. Amateurs.
Most interestingly though is the mindset. Seeing a new pilgrim after walking continuously for nearly 3 weeks is strange. They are the new kids at school and don't know our customs. It is also really fun to meet the newcomers to our migrating village And I hold no superior stance over walkers starting later. I have only to reference the people I've met who started walking out their front door from Hamburg and Rome, hobbling all the way to Santiago.
The Italians and I descended upon the beautiful city of Astorga and feasted our eyes on the Cathedral and a dramatic building called the Palacio Episcopal, built by the famous Gaudi. I was again persuaded to move onto the next town by the group in the late afternoon sun. We were now entering the Maragatería and the montes of León. The Maragato culture is apparently still hidden somewhere in these isolated hills. There are reportedly 4,000 Maragato people in existence, but I don't know if I met any of them. They might be in Las Vegas this time of year. I hear the Maragato soup is good but it's full of pork. I still have not seen any live pigs on my hundreds of miles of walking.
We caught up with Louise and Gilbert for a moment today. Louise and I hugged and she said she had been asking people on the trail about the singing girl from Chicago.
While we were walking through a scenic mountain pass, Patrícia received a call from Andrea who had returned to Milan last week. Patricia passed the phone to me and he sang his Italian songs to me from Milan while I sauntered up in the hills beaming from ear to ear.
Day 20: Murias de Rechivanlo to Foncebadón
Day 20: Murias de Rechivanlo-Foncebadón ___?km (a lot)
The scenery is becoming gorgeous again. Thanks to the many miles of dodging cars on the highways out of León, any path was going to be an improvement. We also started climbing up into real mountains again with non-wheat plants growing out of the ground. Cool air, shaded paths, green vegetation, mountain views. Yes, please. Some of the more "far out" guidebooks on the Caminosay that the path we are walking on has special electromagnetic energy. Shirley MacLane talks in her book about channeling previous lives and that the Camino falls on a Lay line which, according to my extensive research on Wikipedia, are energetic lines criss-crossing all across the earth. If there is a book on it at the library, I'd look on the shelf where they house books on crop circles and auras. Take it for whatever it is worth to you.
At one point during our climb up into the clouds, I took off my pack and collapsed face down on soft grassy ground. I am more inclined to believe my grateful sensitive skin was craving this Atlantic Ocean climate. I can't wait to cross into Galicia, which apparently resembles my Irish roots in both culture and climate. Or maybe my odd inclination to lie on the ground is from the lay lines having their way with me. I just feel great here.
In one of my other more historical books about the Camino, a couple of pioneering pilgrims forged through this forgotten trail in the 70s and came across many abandoned towns. Foncebadón, the town we were approaching for the night, once had just 4 people among the scattered ruins and buildings. They returned again in the 80s to find a mother and son were the only ones left and they had fought to preserve the bell and bell tower in the abandoned church. The bell was their only way to give an emergency call since it could be heard 6km away in the closest town. When the pilgrims went back in 1994, the mother was gone but the bell tower remained. Since the revival of the Camino in the past decades, the town has grown to about 4 structurally-sound shelters exclusively catering to pilgrims, several stray cats have moved in, lots of incense has been imported to the albergue entrances, and a few piles of rocks are starting to look like they are going to be inhabitable once again.
When we approached this foggy semi-abandoned village up in the mountains, I could have sworn I heard Coldplay wafting from the pilgrim bar. Culture Restored.
Day 21: Foncebadón to Molinaseca
Day 21: Foncebadón to Molinaseca
20km
We woke up so cold!...but not from the lack of quality music. The mountain weather kept many pilgrims crouched in the albergue with all of their layers from their packs on. We were huddled in our bunks, sleeping until 7am. That's like mid-day for pilgrims. I believe a Korean couple started walking in the wind and fog and came back to the albergue because it was so cold.
We set off surrounded by the fog and goats eating garbage remnants. I'm sure there are plenty of hiking boots cast aside that they eat. There are at least one pair of shoes on the side of the road every few kilometers.I imagine they sometimes fall off the back of packs but I also like to think about some blistered pilgrim, in a painful fit, throws them up to the sky and continues on in flip flops.
I continued taking photos of romantic piles of rocks as we ascended into the fog.
Cruz de Ferro
We approached one of the most legendary parts of the Camino called the Cruz de Ferro. One of my books on the history of the Camino talks about the Celtic traditions of piling rocks when surmounting a tough mountain pass. This mound of rocks might have been one of those piles originally...and then someone stuck a cross on top and...voila...another pagan ritual absorbed into Christianity.
I left a few rocks that people gave to me and watched as others left rocks up at the top. As soon as we unloaded all of our rocks, the fog lifted and we continued on.
This was probably one of the most breathtaking days in terms of scenery.
Along the way we stopped at another legendary Camino post, a series of stone huts run by a self-proclaimed Knights Templar named Tomás. I still haven't quite figured out what I think about him. He runs his own little post along the Camino filled with posters and spiritual knick-knacks inside tent-like structures. He also keeps a recording of Gregorian Chant blaring out of somewhere. Coffee and cookies are set out among the new-age spiritual necklaces you can buy from little hooks. We had been walking with another Italian named Arianna and she asked one of the volunteers if Tomás was at home today and if we could meet him. Out he came from a little corridor in torn clothes and a giant t-shirt with religious symbols on it. He talked with us for a while and let us into his one room home in the back of the hut. It was roomy for Manhattan standards and tidy for a 3 year old's standards. There were framed articles on the wall about the work of the Knights Templar and he talked about corruption of the Catholic Church. Nothing new there. I've been trying to think of a comparison to Tomás while walking these past few days. The best I could come up with is a cowboy in a shopping mall. He's interesting and full of stories but you're not quite sure what he's doing there. We continued on in the hills.
We ended up at a small town before the recommended big town, staying at an albergue next to an old Roman bridge. We ran into an Italian father and his 20 year old son with autism we had run into earlier in the week. Ettore informed me that they were famous in Italy and travel the world together. Our photos even made it onto their Facebook page "Andrea e Franco." Ettore was star-struck when Franco gave him his number so they could be in touch along the Camino. I look forward to Googling these celebrities when I get home.
We also ran into 3 university students from San Marino, a teeny teeny country, population 40,000, inside Italy. They said that when they went to Morocco, the border guards didn't recognize their passports and had to look it up on the Internet to confirm that it was, indeed, an independent nation that issues its own passports.
We are walking with rare finds in these isolated hills.
That evening in the alburgue, while my Italians were out at the supermarket, a bunch of men in uniform came walking into the halls of the alburgue. Albergues are usually unlocked shelters with rows of bunk beds, so anyone could walk through the door, but this looked alarming. The men, from the Spanish Red Cross, just asked me if my feet were okay. I laughed and felt a little embarrassed as I was holding dirty laundry and had just gotten out of the shower and no one else was around that needed help. BUT It immediately occurred to me that this would make a great photo opportunity so I asked them for a photo instead and they all joined me in front of the alburgue for a delightful photo session and awkward conversation about pilgrim first aid issues. I showed the pictures to the Italians when they returned and informed them that when they leave me for 30 minutes, 5 men come to my side offering to massage my feet. The Italians and I then had dinner with the famous duo from Italy.
Day 22: Molinaseca to Villafranca
Day 22: Molinaseca to Villafranca
30km
Ettore, Patricia, and I headed back into this hills after a decent night's sleep. My Spanish has officially been corrupted by Italian and I don't know what to do about it. Come to Spain! Learn Italian!
While we were walking today, Patricia and Ettore talked about flights from Santiago to Milan and their plans to buy plane tickets that night. Santiago, the end of our walk, is approaching. Our only job for the past month has been to just walk and now we had to think about what comes after.
All of the Italians in our group were planning on reuniting in Milan before returning to their respective Italian towns. Patricia asked if it was possible for me to fly there before returning home. As soon as she asked it, the three of us stopped in the middle of the road and I said that "you only live once" in my best Italian...which probably sounded something like, "I living primo time." They both exclaimed brava, Gina, brava!
That night at the alburgue, we began the excruciating process of purchasing plane tickets on a cell phone with spotty wifi. Ryan Air is the cheap airline of Europe and we snagged the last 3 tickets on a flight from tiny Santiago. It was destiny and we hugged and hollered that our purchase went through. The last 3 seats!
We had a communal dinner in the albergue and sat next to the same father and his sons from Madrid that I had met the week before. The father reminisced about staying at this same albergue back in 1999. He had met his wife on the Camino and they walked on New Year's Eve from this place in the snow, not sure where they were going to end up. They slept on church floors sometimes because there was nothing open. Now he was back, 4 kids later, walking with 2 of his oldest kids.
Day 23: Villafranca to La Faba
Day 23: Villafranca to La Faba (population 20, 10 in the winter)
26km
Villafranca was known in medieval times to be a mini-Santiago. For those pilgrims that could not go on through the hills, they received complete absolution in this beautiful village in the valley. We were more than able-bodied this morning so we did not go looking for a final blessing in this town. We were armed with fully-charged cell phones and seasoned fried eggs on toast for breakfast. Patricia got a head start this morning and Ettore and I lagged behind sipping our coffee and nibbling our toast at the alburgue. When we finally got going out of the town, we spotted a cemetery and, as I often do with any topic, plunged deeply into philosophical debate about all things related to human evolution and burial practices. Ettore and I were so engrossed that we missed the turn to take the scenic route up in to the hills. We were 4 km into the valley route before realizing it. I was disappointed for about 5 minutes but no majestic scenery can match the joy of discussing cremation. For example, Ettore told me that in his hometown of San Benedetto in Italy, in 1985, the mayor pushed for a cutting edge cremation service to be used in town, even against the Bishop's wishes. No wonder we missed the turn to the most beautiful part of the Camino. Today was nice though, walking along the river, hearing the water rush by below, walking along sweet, shaded trails and steep mountains hugging us on all sides.
We stopped just short of the Galician border at an albergue that specialized in vegetarian food. As predicted, the hospitaleros wore radical hairdos and there were hammocks. I'm not quite sure why vegetarian menus and hammocks always coincide, but they do. It was the first meal in a while that didn't give me fried eggs. I was also so happy and relaxed not picking around pork products on my plate. Even Ettore said it was one of the best meals he had in Spain. And that's saying a lot coming from an Italian. I met all 3 children and both dogs in the village while soaking my feet in salt water. Because we missed the big scenic climb into the hills at the beginning of the day, I didn't have as strenuous of a walk and I think it signaled to my body to shut down. I haven't stayed still in so long. I long to just sit in a chair for hours sipping coffee.
While walking today, it occurred to me how well I have gotten to know my Italians. I know every article of clothing in their bag. I can pull any item from the outside pockets of Ettore's pack with the quickest hand signal. The Italians call their mothers every day around 10am, usually after our second espresso, and I am famous for doing an impression of Ettore on the phone with his mother:
"mama...come stai? Benn-ay Benn-ay Ben-nay, e Bapo? Tutto Ben-ay? Eu sou fettendo una bellisima experiencia...Benay....Benay." Click. (Yes, I know that is not the correct spelling.)
Even though I know all the clothes in the Italians' backpacks, I still managed to lose a pair of my own pants in the last town. I don't know my own backpack and that is telling. Some people come to Camino to create life-changing experiences and personal revelations. I may have just come to learn how to keep track of my laundry and buy cookies from voices in the wall. (See previous email about cloistered nun cookies.) Still a great deal.
Day 24: La Faba to Triacastellas
Day 24: La Faba to Triacastellas
24km
We stopped in the last town in León for our morning espresso and Celtic music was blaring from the bar at 7am. We asked about the music and a peregrina from Burgos enthusiastically wrote down the names of Galician musicians that we should listen to. The big names to listen to are Carlos Nuñuz and Julio Pereira. Galician culture is heavily influenced by the Celtic settlers that have claimed this area of Spain for centuries. One must be careful though to find the authentic in this region. As you might recall, Coldplay has been spotted blaring from the middle of nowhere in another isolated region. In a few lovely shaded kilometers, we crossed into Galicia into an absolutely picturesque town called O'Cebreiro, full of thatched roofs and hobbit-like stone buildings. There was a memorial to a man who is largely responsible for making the Modern Camino what it is today. He even invented the giant yellow arrows that we have seen all along the path. It was a nice introduction into the absolutely gorgeous hills that carried us over and through gorgeous valleys until finally resting at another quaint village called Triacastellas.
After walking several hundred kilometers with Patricia, I finally got around to asking her about her white tote bag that she carries on her right shoulder outside her pack. It says NOPE across the outside in big letters. She explained to me in Italian that she thought it was the English word for hope and didn't realize it meant 'no' until after she bought it. Therefore, in half of my pictures of the Camino, I have the lovely Patricia from Sicily smiling with a big tote bag that says NOPE. I love this so much.
Peace, love, and NOPE,
Gina, U.S.A.
Continue the journey on the Camino here to Camino Part 5.
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