El Camino de Santiago, part dos.

The hostels were awesome because they were cheap and provided a bed, pillow, showers and a vending machine. We expected a room where we crashed on the floor, so we were pretty stoked. The only thing is, the pilgrimage seems to be a hit with Scouts. Scouts who are young, excitable and talk all night.  Granted, this was me when I was young.  Yes, I was that girl.  You may be surprised to hear this, given my quiet manner and care for others, but it was me who blocked the key speaker out of our room once at an Easter camp and yelled "Watcha gonna do now, fool!?"  Not my proudest moment, but karma seems to come around eventually.

Erin was also one of these kids, which makes this next part even funnier. These kids were chattering away in Spanish, laughing, giggling, turning on the lights.  After over 2 hours of this, Erin got a bit wound up. She tired a number of tactics, each one more intense than the last.
1) "POR FAVOUR, SILENCIO!!!"   Met with quiet, then giggles.
2) "SHUT....UP!!!!" Met with the same.
3) "GO TO A HOTEL!!!!!" More quiet, some hushes giggles that then got quieter.

Now is my favourite bit.  Erin jumped out of bed (Thomas tried to stop her but was too late)
stomped along the lines of bunk beds hissing "who is it!! Who's talking?!?" with arms crossed and kind of leaning towards them in an intimidating manner, eyes flashing.  At this stage, Chris and I burst out laughing at Erin who realises how silly she looks, comes back to bed, muttering, "I'm going to smash you", then laughs.

Erin had this amazing reputation and we got to know the kids along the way, who took any chance they could to make fun of her and tell her to go to a hotel, after they got over their initial surprise that the crazy person yelling at them was so small. They were good kids, really, and it was a good joke to tell them to SILENCIO any chance we could.

Interesting fact about Spain; Spaniards eat sunflower seeds. They're like birds.

Day 3 or 4, I forget, we walked ages in the pouring rain. We arrived into Chaldas de Rein absolutely drenched.  It was one of the longest walks (I think about 24kms) and we had spent much of the day trying to be be overtaken by a bunch of kids with an annoying quad bike. Our feet were pruny from wet shoes and we were wiped out.  The town is known for thermal pools and after some discussion, we decided to stay at a hotel instead of the albergue.  It was much more expensive, but you got a thermal bath,  (which turned out to be literally an individual bath in a room that blew bubbles like a spa. Weird) breakfast, awesome shower plus i washed all of my clothes and dried them out. Awesome.

It was bliss to have a shower with even water pressure and temperature, not being in there with other people and being able to take my time. Totally worth it, but i did miss the German friends we'd made along the way; you get used to seeing the same old crowd.

That evening we went across the road to get tapas at what the hotel said was good (the closest place, methinks they just pointed at one) which turned out to be a cold basement full of dried meats and served meat, bread and cheese.  Was a pretty average meal, even the salad had a crazy amount of vinegar on it so we gave up and got an icecream instead.

On the way back, we found a little thermal pool and put our feet in to warm up while the local townspeople got hot water for their houses. At one point an older lady came up and we decided to get out, she told us to get back in and go to the bigger one round the corner. I love Spain.

Along the way were crazy amounts of dogs and cats.  Cats who were afraid of Erin, dogs who mostly loved her. She kept needing to run and catch up because she stayed with the dogs.  Another couple of friends, Sabine and Maraike from Germany loved them too; Sabine had more photos of dogs on the walk that sites or people.

Funny Side Story: On the first night, we were recommending a cafe in Porto called "moustache'. The Germans were were with asked what this meant. Thomas started stroking his face and imitating a beard. We all told him he was wrong and put our index finger over our top lip, he looked at us meaningfully but we weren't sure why.  It was only later, after all of us (barr Thomas) were imitating moustaches, that we realised we were doing the general imitation of Hitler. In front of the Germans. Win.

The thing is with walking that far with the same people, you start repeating conversations.
The ones that seemed to keep coming up were;
1) David Hasslehoff
2) How hot Natalie Portman is
3) Repeating Erin's story of telling the kids to go to a hotel and threatening to smash them.

Spanish food, at least in the area were were, is very samey.  Tapas.
Tortilla Espanol: a potato omelette that is so delicious i want to wet my pants a little.
Calemares; the real stuff with little tentacles.  Turns out I like the frozen crap stuff that doesn't resemble the actual thing I'm eating. Yuck.
Pimentos: Little green peppers.
Meats; Chorizo, Jamon and sometimes a pork dish with fries.
Olives: Green and delicious
Salad: Lettuce, Tomato and Onion.
If you were lucky, you could find a hamburger with mystery meat, or potato and jamon croquettes.


So, after hours of walking, we finally got close to Santiago, our final destination. After the majority of people wishing us 'buon camino', it was a letdown when we got close and we were just another one of the thousands of pilgrims that visit the city each year.  We had planned to stay 4kms out of the city so we could arrive fresh the next day and make our way straight to mass in the cathedral for our ceremony and blessing. Turns out the 4kms out of the city was 4kms past the city, so we managed to find one of the last hostels left and stayed in Santiago.  We were all really tired and sore by this time, it was raining a bit so we had a hot chocolate (liquid chocolate...MMM) and rested before heading to the Cathedral to do our slow motion run to the Rocky theme. The photos are quite funny, Erin and I don't even look like we like each other, we were so wiped out. I sang Shania Twain a number of times ("Looks like we made it....look how far we've some my baaaaaaby"), we touched the shell (apparently you do this when you're finished, or hug a statue or something...all a bit vague in the church) and went outside to the fountain.  I'd seen a picture of this fountain and saw pilgrims putting the scallop shell they wore (you could buy them along the way to show you're doing the camino) and walking sticks in.  I'd had a stick the whole time because my ankle hurt and I was excited about the symbolism of putting it in the fountain. Nope.  Nothing there except leaves. Dumb.  Left it in the hostel, stupid fountain, ruining my life.

The hostel was a 4 bedroom house, all to ourselves, which meant i got my own room! That was pretty exciting, I listened to some music, lay in bed and reflected.  That evening we went out for dinner where I ordered what i thought was a hamburger, but instead got this.

We stayed up late and were found by the rest of our German friends where we stayed up and drank beer (they just kept ordering it despite us saying no!) until it hit my birthday and Marieke and Sabine got some cake from the bar and they sang to me in German. Exciting stuff.

The next morning, Thomas came to wake me up and told me that Erin had made me breakfast. I got downstairs to find that she'd gone out into the rain to bring back fresh pastries, OJ, tea and coffee.  We sat together and ate,  it was so nice in my pjs, warm inside from the rain.  Even better, her and Thomas bought me a traditional Santiago cake made from Almond meal. We'd been holding off trying this cake until we made it to Santiago, it was so nice having the first try all together, in Santiago for my birthday.  I felt so special. :)

We went to mass where I got bored and almost fell asleep (didn't even have it in English, how rude) but there was a cute nun who tried to teach everyone to sing a hymn.  We imitated the words which made me laugh a little, but it sounded awesome with the church acoustics.  We went up for communion blessings (apparently you cant have communion if you're not a catholic) so instead asked for a blessing. The priest looked confused and was like "what!? You're not Catholic!!?" but blessed us anyway. Afterwards we met with the gang we'd been travelling with and had a big group photos.  Some of them gave me little gifts which was so sweet, considering we'd only known them 6 days. It was such a feeling of accomplishment, community and being thankful to God.

Erin and I went shopping (2 pairs of amazing beautiful leather shoes so so cheap!), had a drink and some quality time. We hadn't really had a chance to just sit and chat for over a year, why not do it in Spain?  We met with the guys for dinner, Erin tried pulpo, the dish of the region which is octopus tentacles and looked so gross.  Look up her photos, she got some amazing ones. I'm sure if you like seafood you'll get excited, it was all fresh. They literally had beer steins with octopus flowing out. Freaking gross. It was such a nice, relaxed birthday, I felt really lucky to have it in Spain with my friends.  We chilled the next day, played a game of frisbee in the giant square outside the church where we caught it on our heads (NZ represent) and laughed a lot.

The souvenirs were tacky, we saw a rosary made of hello kitty beads.  I'm not Catholic, but that is sacrilege!  Loads of witch stuff, which i think is a symbol of Galatia, but worked in with a personal joke I'd made up on the walk, about a person being a witch and showing their real self and their real high-pitched voice after 11 years of friendship.  Guess you had to be there. We saw a group try to do a flashmob, I sat on a couch in the hostel and broke it, went to another hostel with paper-thin walls where Erin yelled at people again, all in all, a good trip.

On the last day, we saw a parade go down the street, with drummers of all ages, (really cute little kids too), people singing, ladies dressed like gypsies, priests in the robes carrying a huge statue of Jesus on the cross.  It was a somber experience, locals holding very long candles and marching slowly down the street.  A band followed. It's really hard to explain, but it was a powerful moment for me. This walk, what was probably tradition impacted me. To think of what happened to Jesus, to see these people literally carry him down the street, showing their faith and community...  I can't put it in words. Go see it for yourself.

Spiritually, it was an interesting experience for me.  Spain is inherently Catholic and a lot of the traditions, ceremonies and their meaning are a bit lost on me. In saying that, it was beautiful being able to accept that while the Catholics and the filthy protestants (myself) have our differences, we still love and believe in the same God.  It was beautiful to stop at tiny churches along the way, especially on Easter weekend. One church would have been smaller than the average NZ classroom and was filled with white flowers and candles. While winning at the treasure hunt and getting our stamps, it was beautiful to stop and reflect on God and the reason for doing this walk, historically a pilgrimage to God to let you jump the queue to purgatory, or something like that.  I just liked walking and reflecting on God and the beauty in Spain.

One church was a bigger ornate church where we found a big group of Germans inside, praying.  We'd seen this group along the way, (they stayed in hotels and carried day packs so we were far more hardcore) singing hymns and praying together, a big scallop around each of their necks.  We walked through this church and got a stamp from the priest. Erin chatted to him about the church and the group started singing acapella in German.  While we couldn't understand the words, it was beautiful to listen to, especially with the echoes and acoustics of this church.  Wish I had a guitar with me to jam along in one of those churches, or in the Spanish countryside.

The church at the end was massive, gold covered statues and altars all around the statues of St James, donation boxes everywhere. It confuses me a bit, seeing all of that and what the bible says about idolatry, seems a bit weird, but nonetheless, it was a lovely tribute to one of the apostles.  We stood and saw his tomb which was a bit epic- think about that- James, THE James, James from the bible James...could be his remains right in front of me.  Ate with Jesus James. Whoa. It was a step back to the roots of my faith, the commitment of the church and the power of traditions and community.

I love that the walk brings thousands of people together, all around the world to walk this pilgrimage, join together in mass, make community and reflect on their spirituality and life in general.  Everyone should do it, religious or not, it was such a great walk.

 Also, I now I have calves of steel.

The end.

El Camino de Santiago, Pt 1.

Erin, Thomas and Erin's work colleague Chris walked 117kms from Valenca, Portugal to Santiago De Compestella in Spain. El Camino, The Way of St James.

This is our story.

I have a reputation for booking flights. Last year, I arrived at the airport twice to find that I had booked it on the wrong day. Luckily, I sorted it out and managed to leave that day. I was able to laugh about it, but this trip, I took it to a new level. Our travelling companion, Chris, realised the day earlier that he's booked his flight on the wrong day. He was gutted but managed to find a flight 2 days later so arranged to meet us there. I didn't laugh when this happened, I totally got it and felt bad for the guy. Then, I arrive at the airport, the lady checks everyone in, gets to me and tells me that sorry, my flight was yesterday.

I dropped the f-bomb and then again when I realised that there weren’t any flights that day and the only one would cost me TRIPLE what I paid for the previous flight. Sadly, I waved them goodbye and headed back to Erin and Thomas' place. I made the best of it, though, I was tired so spent the day just chilling and catching up on sleep. Still. What an egg.

The next day I arrived on the right flight, at the right time (egg) to Porta. I took a bus that went through all of the small villages with windy roads. It took about an hour when it could have taken 10 mins. The bus was good though, good to take in the culture, seeing the tiled houses and countryside. The bus was full of coughing, hacking old people, the kind that sound like they've about to keel over and die. All of the men wore cheese cutters and wore giant glasses, the women solemn faced and serious, carrying groceries. It was very small town, one lady got on with a big bunch of hand-picked flowers, went a couple of stops, then got off.

I have a little Portuguese in my heritage. It's really not much, but I bring it up when I’m trying to sound exotic. My dad's second cousin also married a Maori, so we're a mixed bunch. Anyway, apparently it showed, because people would turn and ask me things. I knew a little Portuguese that I learned on the place, so could apologise that I couldn't communicate, which got me a calculated stare and an understanding nod. When I arrived into the city in Porto, it was much the same. I didn't have a sim card that worked so couldn't really contact the rest of the guys (that got the RIGHT flight). I wandered around, trying to use payphones and orient myself, then gave up and got a delicious custard doughnut. I went to the hostel and at that moment, Erin calls the hostel to ask for me. She really has excellent mind-reading skills. I left my stuff, jumped in a taxi and met the others at a famous Port distillery called Taylor's. We got free port, sat in the sun overlooking the river and it was pretty exciting.

We chilled out, ate more pastries, had a traditional Portuguese dish (codfish, wasn't the great), Sangria and walked around the town. I needed a towel to found a giant kitsch Portuguese flag. Which didn't really help in people thinking I was Portuguese.

The next day, we had breakfast (Portuguese espresso is very good), went up a high tower to overlook the town, ate more pastries (notice a theme) and bought a rosary of St Fatima to wear during my walk. Fatima is a place in Portugal where it is said that the Virgin Mary appeared a number of times to some Shepherd kids. It's pretty famous, we didn't go there but I wanted a rosary for my pilgrimage, so decided it would do. It has Jesus on the end, anyway.

From here, we took a bus to Valenca. It all looked a bit samey and we weren't really sure how to tell where to get off. We were told to get off at one stop which was pretty much a bus terminal at the edge of an industrial area. It was kind of funny because Erin spoke a little Spanish and we really were just wandering around. We finally walked up to a hill and saw an awesome fort, church and shops selling tea towels. We grabbed some food, got our passport stamped and were on our way.

The Camino is pretty much like a giant adult treasure hunt. If people disagree, they're lying. The whole way is marked with yellow arrows and scallop shells that you need to find and follow.  Along the way you need to get your passport (we bought it from the church) stamped at churches, bars, shops; anywhere that has a stamp. You need at least 2 stamps every day to bring to the Monastery Albergue to prove that you've been walking the pilgrammage.  You pay 5Euros (about $10 NZ) and stay in a giant dorm inside or near the church, previously used for the monks. Pretty freaking cool. Here's me looking exhausted and leaning on the scallop symbol.

As you walk, you meet walkers who are doing the same trip as you.  You see them at stops, have a drink together and generally try to beat them to the next stop as often as possible.
It was super fun and we won at life because we're from NZ.


We walked across the Spanish border which was pretty non-eventful. They didn't even bother to dance for us or anything. We just crossed a bridge. Dumb. The first day was chilled because we couldn’t walk the whole way to the next Albergue, so we chilled in Tui, town of lights, toys and doughnuts. For real. I'm not kidding; there were literally 8 stands next to each other down the street, all selling toys and doughnuts. Even as we walked further into the carnival, people were selling churros....and toys and doughnuts. We carb-loaded on a special pilgrim's menu with our new German friends, sisters called Nora and Lea. You need to leave the hostel by 8am so we went out, got coffee and pastries and were on our way.

On our walk out of the town, there were gunshots. Lots of them, very close. We walked further to hear Nora and Lea ahead of us calling out and singing, realising they were trying to tell whoever had the gun to please not shoot us. We joined in, I flinched a couple of times, it gave me a fright. Not. I'm hard-core.

We walked through a beautiful forest; it was cold but not freezing and there was a little sun so it was very peaceful. We stopped along the way to lean against old stone crosses to mark the way and enjoying the fresh air. After a couple of hours we arrived at a cafe to grab a coffee. The area of Spain we were in was very...well, Spanish. It was rare to find someone that spoke English, and if they did it was usually quite broken. I learned the basics as we walked. It took me a while to find an equivalent of a piccolo/macchiato, but eventually (after some bad coffees) I found the cortada. Bliss.

We were sitting at the cafe when a man rode up on a horse. Erin pretty much wet her pants in excitement, nek minnit we look around and she's riding around on this horse. The owner is pretty chilled, goes inside for a coffee and leaves Erin to it. 5 mins later, a group of about 8 guys on horses ride up and do the same, leave their horses and grab a coffee. I was going to ride on them standing up in bare feet but decided not to show Erin up. I'm good like that. The family who owned the cafe were lovely, very understanding and eager to communicate with us. After we paid, someone came out and gave us their Traditional Easter cake (it was Easter Sunday) which was like a sweet bread with orange peel and white crunchy sugar on top. It was so sweet to have them share with us.

The Spanish are funny, they talk to you super-fast in Spanish, you reply 'no hablo espanol'...they nod and carry on talking to you. It was pretty much a game of charades to try to explain what we wanted every time, except when you want bacon, which is said the same. Phewf. When I was younger, I wrote a joke song in Spanish called 'no hablo espanol' which was about my friend giving me a sandwich, in Spanish. Ironically, it was remarkably helpful. Getting directions was always fun as generally the Spaniards we met were quite animated in their hand movements. Not being able to understand much, we picked up what we would and wondered what the rest meant. One time, it looked like a guy was imitating a bear. Another time, we picked up "up, down the hill, left, right" and figured he was saying go here, don't go here, do this, don't go this way" but we had no idea which. We laughed and kept an eye out for bears.

"La Quenta" in the bill. "Quanto tempo" is the time. We got these confused regularly, Thomas was confused when people would nod and point at the clock, while we waited ages for our bill.

There was such support for the pilgrims; most people would say hello and wish us 'buon camino', which is pretty much a 'good luck walking, God bless' thing. That's what I think, anyway. That or a comment on how hot I look. Yeah, probably that one.

Funny side story - In Spain, often they pronounce their S as a 'th'. We all said it with an S because it felt weird, Thomas was determined to do it properly, but instead he sounded like he had a lisp. "GRATHIATH", he would say. Nice one, Thomas!


And we walked, and we walked, and we sang. We jumped and clicked out heels together in the air, then we walked some more. We walked through towns full of farms, vines and bougainvilleas, saw men in pubs drinking wine from bowls, we walked in the sun and in the pouring rain, drank wine and shandy during siesta hour (where everything is closed except pubs) and ate a lot of tapas.

To be continued....

3/04/2012

I've arrived in London and am trying very hard to A) not fall asleep again and B) not think about the nausea  I have from not sleeping.  Jet-lag is always hard, I thought i'd nailed this one as I managed my sleeping patterns around it on the plane, but I guess there's not much you can do.

So, my trip has begun.  I have just spent over 24 hours in the air, visited a butterfly garden (that had nothing on Glamorgan Primay school) and a koi pond inside an airport, caught two trains by myself with getting stabbed or lost, had lunch with Erin and her collagues on a rooftop overlooking St Paul's Cathedral, and made my way home (got lost but in trying to avoid a man trying to sign me up to his charity, found myself on the right path again).

The accents here are funny. I'm finding it hard taking people seriously; I seem to be automatically categorising people and their accents into various TV shows. Extras seems to be winning so far, especially the accent by the larger woman "Mr Stoooookes". Duncan from Community is here everywhere, too, also Gandalf the Wizard and the girls from Ab Fab. I can't wait to hear someone call me "sweetie, darling".

Yesterday, Sam and Meg (Thomas' brother and sister-in-law) and I went to Covent Gardens, which weren't actually gardens, but markets inside a big square.  There was a 'poo and pee' shirt and a lot of giant eggs painted differently. We walked around to Trafalgar Square, where I sat on a giant lion and got sworn at by a stupid French girl because I took too long posing. We walked to King's Cross, I saw platform 9 3/4 and giggled excitedly like a little girl.

For dinner we visited Jamie's Italian which was great- it's smart but not wanky, relaxed and welcoming, he's done an awesome job. I was impressed.

I haven't seen Adele yet, which is weird. Still looking.

Seeing Erin and Thomas again is fantastic.  It's weird, it just feels like they never left. It was exciting to hug her initially, but it's just like old times, i'm excited.  They live in a little place called Barbican which is awesome.  There are food markets on the street opposite, a little burial grounds with squirrels everywhere, an awesome coffee shop (i've chatted to the owner about working there casually, he's keen...yus) and a little park.  It's 5 mins walk from Erin's work so we have lunch together when she works, and about 10 minutes from Liverpool Station, like in the Monopoly Game.  I was really excited. Haven't seen a fox yet.

Also, it's freezing. My ipod says 8 degrees, I reckon colder.  Apparently it's snowing in Edinborough so we've got a bit of that cold. Stupid Scotland, ruining my life.
Flying tomorrow to Porto, Portugal and walk El Camino de Santiago.  Pretty excited about eating Portuguese Tarts and Nandos for a few days.


ps  I thought about writing a "how to find good coffee in Europe", but not sure this is the place. If you're interested, let me know and i'll link you in.