The past twenty days or so, I have been a geographic bachelor as my wife went to the States to attend to my daughter. I stayed home to take care of the dog, who like me, is getting a little older and crazier, and needs to be watched. Now back in the day, the Army or my other work sent me places where I was away from home for extended periods of time, but that was business travel, which is an entirely different ballgame. You go somewhere exotic for some specific reason, you have some specific mission, you complete it and you go home. All your away time is spent doing what they sent you for so you can go home.
This was something entirely different. I was home, in familiar settings, but by myself. Except for my dog, who is not much of a conversationalist. He basically asks “can we go out now?” or “is any of that food for me?” or yells “OMG, there is a truck outside stealing our trash DO SOMETHING!” Other than that, he just lays there and asks “where’s Mom?” Over and over and over again.
After graduating from West Point, I got married five days later, so I had very limited bachelor time. This was a learning experience for me. Here is what I learned:
Cooking for one is a PITA. Contrary to popular opinion, I can cook, but I don’t like to cook. I so don’t like to cook that I don’t even like to grill, which I know is a big man-card issue. To me, its just cooking outdoors, so WTH? My lovely wife likes to cook, and likes to eat healthy, so my normal routine consists of (a) becoming hungry, (b) asking when breakfast/lunch/dinner is, (c) eating, and (d) cleaning up. When you are alone, by the time I get hungry, I think, “I need to defrost something” which leads nowhere fast or somewhere quick and not very good. I prepare double portions with the hope I’ll be willing to reheat/eat left-overs, which I then fail to do. Oh, and there’s still that clean up thing, too.
Do not get sick, under any circumstances! If you get sick, make sure your friends rescue you, or you will die. This may sound drastic, but bear with me. I got stomach flu. You get so weak you can’t go out to the doctor. Also, I didn’t want to go to the doctor and get sent to the hospital, because what do I do with the dog? Luckily I have friends who brought food, drinks, and would have done more if I asked. But the bottom line is, when you are alone, the margin of error gets pretty close to zero.
Have a fire-proof house. This requires some explanation. I have told my wife on more than one occasion that we don’t need to worry about fire, because our casa is brick and mortar and there is nothing to burn. I went one step further this past week by testing that hypothesis. As I was recovering from the flu, I decided to make a pot of tea (lapsong souchong, in case you were wondering) to ease my symptoms. At around 8:00 pm I put some water in a pot on our gas stove to boil, and went back to my computer screen. Around 10:00 pm I took the dog out for a final walk, then went back and went to bed. After a fitful night, I awoke at 7:00 am and went to take the dog out again. When I came back to the kitchen, I hit a wave of hot air: what the? There was the pot, still on the flame eleven hours later! The water was (of course) all gone, the pot was oh-so-hot, but otherwise, nothing was wrong. I did use about 10% of the gas in my propane tank, but given the possibilities, that was a loss I was happy to accept. The real lesson is not fire-proofing as much as it is when you’re alone, there is no one to double check you for stupidity. In this case my guardian angel was working overtime.
I have a wonderful wife; this I already knew. There is nothing like an enforced absence to crystallize the concept. I know I am spoiled, that I made one really good decision in life and have been benefiting from it ever since. I did not suspect that she was also my muse, as I have found it hard to think of things to write about while she was absent. I think this verse says it all:
The Lord God said “It is not good for the man to be alone.”
The man said, “at last, this one is bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.”
That is why a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife…
Visitors are always welcome down here in Mexico. Well, almost always. I’ve had two unwelcome visitors this past week. They are not pretty stories, but they are part of expat life, so here goes.
The first visitor was–apparently–la gripe (“gree-pay”), or as you know it NOB, the stomach flu. Last Friday afternoon I went to my club for a nice tuna filet with a sashimi appetizer, as my wife and I have done for almost eighteen months now. It was delicious, but later in the afternoon my stomach started making “possession” noises. Oh, bad sushi, I thought, and prepared for the worst just before it hit. Then when I stumbled back to bed, I noticed I was shivering! Sure enough, I also had a low grade fever and chills. So probably not food poisoning, but rather something viral: la gripe.
The next two days were solid misery, as I only left the horizontal position to go to the bathroom, or take the dog out. My dog was as useless as you might think; he just stared at me and said things like “you’re not going to lay on the couch all day again, are you?” Maybe I imagined that. But I bet that was what he was thinking. Anyway, the fevers (and hallucinations?) broke Sunday morning, and I got the other symptoms under control by Sunday night. Monday I felt very weak, but not sick. By Tuesday I felt well enough to go to Spanish class.
Yes, of course, I rushed my recovery and now am slowing down again to let nature take its course. How I got sick remains a mystery, and I have not been to the doctor, so other possibilities (mosquito-borne illnesses) are in play. What this has to do with being an expat are all the offers of assistance I received from friends. I did finally accept Basil & Ernie’s offer to pick up meds and electrolytes, which saved me a trip out I really could not have accomplished. But I had offers of food and help from Lorraine and Barbara and John & Catherine and many more. Once again, that sense of community comes to the fore when you need it most. Gracias, mis amigos!
The second visitor was brief but equally annoying. After Spanish class on Tuesday, I stopped by Lorraine’s casa (she of the great Italian cooking) to pick up some prepared meals I had previously ordered. I pulled my car over directly in front of her front gate, got out, opened the door and walked no more than ten feet in…I could still see the back end of my car through the gate. Lorraine and I caught up for about five minutes, then I departed, put the food in the cooler in the back, and started driving home. I noticed I could hear road sounds, like the window was open, but it wasn’t. I looked at the dash instrument, and it indicated the passenger door was ajar.
Since I was at a stop light, I leaned over and pushed it as if to open it, and it barely budged: it was partially, not fully closed. So I tugged on it, the door engaged, and the instrument light went off. The light turned green, and I started to drive. Then it hit me: I am home alone, and no one has used my passenger door since my wife left for a stateside visit last week. ¡AY!
I glanced at the passenger seat where my smartphone used to be. Nope, not there. I pulled over and searched the car. Nothing. I drove back to the Spanish school, where I know I had it out on the desk and put in in silent mode: not there. I returned to Lorraine’s and it wasn’t lying in the street. She even asked the neighbors if they saw anything, since she lives in a close-knit community and they were as upset as I was that someone had probably stolen it: nada. Someone may have followed me, waiting to see where I stopped and if I locked the car. Someone may have just walked by and seen the phone sitting there, heard our voices and could tell we could not see them. Either way, someone gently opened the door, took the phone then pushed it (quietly) closed, though not all the way. Either way, it’s all on me for not locking the car!
Thus began my afternoon of customer service with T-Mobile. Since we have US cell plans, the process was challenging. It went well at first: I got on the T-Mobile web site and opened a chat window which promised immediate access to a service rep…which turned out to be a computer program pretending to be named Emele! You could tell by the stilted syntax and odd questions (“Anything else you would like to bring up while I am accessing your records?”). That said, the computer “agent” had pretty good artificial intelligence and was able to assure me that my line was deactivated and no other lines were affected. She could not handle my simple request for how do I go about replacing my phone, asking whether I wanted to upgrade that phone (ummm, its stolen) or do I have insurance (well you would know better than I, wouldn’t you?). Suddenly the chat window closed and I was back in the dark. Emele had had enough!
I video-chatted with Judy and asked her to handle the issue from the States, since I was going to have the new phone sent to her anyway. But apparently I am the primary account holder and never gave her more than something called “standard access” which means only I can deal with T-Mobile. Lucky me! I went on the T-Mobile website and changed her access from standard to “full” but that didn’t help. I think Emele was still angry at me. So Judy found some more customer service numbers, and after many voice prompts and shouts of “HELP” the system recognized that I needed to talk to a real person, and one arrived on the scene.
Once real humans got involved, it all went quickly and smoothly, and we even ironed out the account holder issues. It did involve a comical situation, as I talked on a Mexican landline phone to the service rep in the States, who sent texts to Judy in the States, who confirmed the texts and read back the pass codes to me and the service rep via a video chat I started with Judy on my tablet. In the end, the details all worked out and I will soon get a new phone. The Good Lord provides…even cell phones!
As to the thief, well, I hope they get some value out of the phone (even though it was pretty old), probably at the local pawn shop, as my friend John King reminded me. Petty theft is a fact of life where poverty and (relative) wealth co-exist, and the only inarguable point in all this is always, always (did I say always), ALWAYS lock your car.
A supportive community always ready to help, and someone with sticky fingers. No different than many places, but also parts of expat life in Mexico.
After having been here almost 18 months, and now returning after an extended absence, I’m taking a second look around for things I might have noticed the first time and passed off, or simply missed altogether. Today let’s talk street art.
Mexico is known for vibrant colors, so one quickly gets used to bright orange tiles or electric purple walls. In addition to that, local government and business joins in, sponsoring or advertising public art which is rather outstanding in my opinion. Let’s take a look!
This work of art is directly across from the entrance of the church and just one block off the main square. The individual skulls are decorated in honor of the names of deceased loved-ones, in accord with Mexico’s long-running Katrina fascination (more about that back here). This piece was completed by Efren Gonzales, probably our most esteemed local artist.
Trying to sell beer? Put the bottles out front on a desert scene with cactus and agave plants! The mural even has a street lamp, but notice the real street light pole on the left is also partially painted!
Here floral designs draw your attention to the windows where clothes are the main attraction. Yes, nearly every window had bars on it, but the elaborate bars can become a form of artistic expression of their own.
This is a main cross street in the village. Notice the clever use of strong color and the multiple flags and languages. Even the planter out front (to prevent parking) has developed a little painting.
We just finished an election season. Why use small yard signs when you can paint the entire side of your building to show your support? I haven’t seen any of these signs defaced, either. This particular sign was for a candidate who lost; I wonder how long it will stay up?
Even the public restrooms are a blank canvas just waiting to be discovered.
The skate park has gone “goth” in its latest painting. It gets re-done several times a year.
Here is the wall to the panteon, or cemetary, which has a katrina and a whimsical cut-away view of the inside. In a similar vein, the following painting on the exterior wall of a business uses the same “exposed brick” approach.
Even homeowners get into the act. This last painting celebrates neighborhood characters and fiestas.
I have seen such public art before NOB, but usually in larger cities. Ajijic may have more than its share as it is an artsy town, but murals and public art exist even in the smallest pueblos.
By now you have no doubt heard about Andrés Manuel López Obrador, popularly known as AMLO (“ahm-low”) the President-elect of Mexico who will take office on December 1st. He is an interesting character, and worth getting to know better, as he portends major changes in Mexico.
AMLO came from a middle class Mexican background. Like any politician in Mexico, he began as a member of the Institutional Revolutionary Party, or PRI, which ruled the country as a single party state for most of the 20th century. In 1988 he left the PRI for a left-wing splinter party which became the PRD, and it was as a PRD candidate he rose to national prominence as the ‘mayor’ of the federal district, Mexico City. He won in the 2000 wave election that turned out the PRI for the first time. Then called the Distrito Federal or DF, the Mexico City region (now CDMX) is the largest metropolitan area in the Western Hemisphere and dominates Mexican politics. For comparison, Mexico City has 21 million inhabitants; Guadalajara is the second city with about 4 million. While AMLO espoused many socialist programs, he governed as a pragmatic leader. He was budget conscious, increased social spending for the most vulnerable, partnered with business leaders to renovate major areas of the city, and reduced crime.
Coming off a successful audition in Mexico City and a 70% approval rate, AMLO ran for the federal presidency in 2006 as a coalition PRD candidate; he received about 35% of the vote but lost by one-half of one percent to the PAN candidate, in an election many thought was manipulated to defeat him. He subsequently protested the result, and lost much of his popularity for appearing to be a sore loser.
AMLO ran again in the 2012 Presidential election and finished second, as Enrique Peña Nieto brought the PRI back to power. Sensing that party politics was part of the problem, AMLO split from the PRD and formed MORENA, a non-party Movement for National Regeneration. MORENA swept to power on a populist wave in the recently completed 2018 election, leaving all other parties in tatters.
López Obrador moderated some of his earlier positions, supporting NAFTA, allowing for some de-nationalization of the oil monopoly (PEMEX), while continuing to argue for higher minimum wages, increased social spending, an end to the war on drugs, and an end to endemic corruption. He remains a fiery orator, easily offended, and enjoys staking out maximalist positions without explaining how he will implement them. For instance, he suggests that corruption will end based on his personal example as a man of modest means (he will not live in the presidential palace, flies commercial, and declined police protection as a candidate).
Many have speculated on how the populist leaders north and south of the Río Grande will get along. President Trump has used Mexico and Mexicans as a handy foil to blame. Surprisingly, his attacks made little difference down here, and the historic election results were mainly due to popular discontent over drug violence, political corruption, and the main parties inability to do anything about either. Presidente López Obrador will have his hands full with his mandates on corruption and violence. There is actually much the two leaders can agree on, if they can look past the need to play to nationalist memes (easier south of the border than north).
There will be tough language and occasional flare-ups, for sure. However, there are important areas where the two Presidents’ interests coincide. Presidente López Obrador wants a stronger Mexican economy that keeps Mexicans home, which would be good news to President Trump, who also argued that Mexican auto workers get paid too little, which fits neatly with Presidente López Obrador’s support for higher domestic wages. Both men want stronger national economies and may be more willing to cut a bilateral trade deal as a result. If they can rise above “the wall” rhetoric, US approval for a guest worker program might be a good quid pro quo for better Mexican control of its southern border.
The last time US- Mexican relations seemed headed for a major positive change was when President George W. Bush (former Texas Governor) teamed up with newly elected Presidente Vincente Fox (conservative PAN party leader and former Governor of Guanajuato). That progress was sidetracked within a year by the terrorist attack of September 11th, 2001.
Perhaps the time is ripe now: stranger things have happened!
If you are of a certain age, you knew this video was coming:
Over the past year, as we walked along, we could not help but notice some strange signs. Here they are:
What is so interesting about a taxi sign, you ask? These are from the Camino Santiago in northern Spain. Look closely at each photo. Anything incongruous? One is on a gravel trail, the other beside a dirt road. In the middle of nowhere. Think Europeans have lost the entrepreneurial spirit? Think again. These signs hit you at the end of a long hike with little promising in front of you. They were like an oasis in the desert. Pretty effective advertising!
This one caught my eye hiking along the road to Chapala. Nothing special about it. It is just a private recycling center. I liked it because of the clever slogan: “Nadie pesa, ni paga comos nosotros.” “No one weighs, nor pays, like us!” It was one the first adverts I saw and understood in Spanish.
The next one requires some explanation. It is outside a nice compound wall near La Floresta, a fine residential community in Ajijic. The compound is large, with a palm tree-lined driveway and a nice gate, and the property is lakefront. It is, in a phrase, prime real estate. Here is the sign:
For those not familiar with Spanish, here’s a rough translation: We inform you that this land is not for rent or sale, neither in toto nor in part; avoid being surprised with the use of documents approved by unscrupulous people. Seems some folks have tried to market this property (more than once) without the owner’s permission. So this lovely sign now adorns it!
Here’s the welcome sign for Jocotepec:
Pretty grand, no? You would think it was a Mexican State. It’s just the next town down the street, population about 40,000. Very proud, though!
When you visit, someone will direct you to Donna’s Donuts, a local hang-out for fresh-baked treats. This is their sign:
The interesting thing about Donna’s Donuts is that there is no Donna. Its Donas, or doughnuts in español. Many signs here are bilingual. But it is funny that this one in particular causes so much confusion.
Finally, there’s this gem:
Just a little street sign. I noticed when I used to look at Google maps for Mexico, I saw the street name Vecinos Alerta show up in several places. I wondered about that. Then I moved here. And I learned some Spanish. Vecinos Alerta is just Neighborhood Watch. Seems when Google drives their mapping program car around towns, it takes pictures of road signs to match to the street. Some of their cars see these signs and think it’s the street name. So no, every other street is not named for Vecinos Alerta!
As someone who just completed my first (and probably only) Camino, I want to take advantage of the perspective fresh in my mind to offer some thoughts to those considering taking on their first Camino Frances. I will approach this topic as objectively as possible, and try to note where my experience might have been unique, or what the general lesson is one should draw from my specific experience.
Nice trail; where’s the giant rolling ball?
First and most importantly, do research and training. On the latter, get all your gear, try it out and wear it in. If there is one area in which I would not economize, it is gear. Hike in varying weather, and do a lot of hills, not just up and down a mountain (like we did). Hike several (at least three) days in a row. Yes, there are people who just go and do the Camino. I was 19 once (and stupid), and just went and “did” a marathon. I even finished. It wasn’t fun. Training will make your actual Camino more enjoyable. My take away is there were far more hills than I expected, and far worse trail conditions, neither of which were adequately depicted in maps, guidebooks, or online. The worst trail conditions
Anybody need a rock?
occur on the steepest up and downhill portions, arguing for stronger ankle and sole support than you might otherwise use, and the use of hiking poles. Also consider buying shoes larger than usual to account for swelling of your feet. Make sure you practice whatever shoe/sock/treatment you select to prevent blisters and it works for you over long distances.
As to research, here you have to be careful. The obvious approach is to buy a guidebook and find a Facebook site and join a community like www.caminosantiago.me for info. One thing to remember is that online sites are full of other first-timers like you and Caministas, people who love the Camino. Think about it: those who quit the Camino, or hated the experience, are not hanging around to re-live it online. People who love something tend to overlook its flaws, so you have to take that into account. You can find lots of encouragement online, but also people who will tell you the trails are pretty good, the hills are all manageable, and that there’s always a cafe open in the next little town. They love the camino (which is a beautiful thing); they remember it that way, but they are romanticizing the Camino.
As to a guidebook, the online sites like Gronze or the Camino Pilgrim app are far more current and useful. I had two copies (different editions) of the infamous John Brierly “practical and mystical” guide to the Camino Frances, and they were practically and mystically useless. Mr. Brierly may be the world’s leading Caminista, but his “maps” are full of inaccuracies, which is an unpardonable sin for a guidebook. I only read a few of his “mystic” commentaries, which I found to be of Hallmark greeting card depth. If this works for you, great! His historical coverage was very good to excellent. If you are really dying for more Camino info, borrow an old Brierly edition from a friend or get one out of the library, but do not waste money buying this book, or ounces carrying it.
Consider “why” you are going on a Camino, and be as specific as you can. This may seem silly, but as you walk, you’ll face choices that will require you to revisit the “why?” So you need to have the answer in your pocket. Is it to walk every step from St. Jean to Santiago? To cross the Pyrenees? To be like a medieval pilgrim (more on that soon)? To get in shape? To get away from it all? To find yourself? A combination of these? Figure it out as best you can before you set off on the journey. It will make the decisions easier.
This one may be controversial: start in Pamplona. Why? Because it is easy to get to, it skips some awful trail time and very unpredictable weather, and it is a neat city to spend a day or two getting over jetlag. St. Jean is achingly cute, but hard to get to: right now there is no train (the line is out) and the bus is often oversubscribed. It leaves you to start with the difficult Pyrenees crossing, which can be very inclement: we had 2-3° Celsius, heavy fog, and howling wind on May 3rd! The bomberos rescued two pilgrims there with hypothermia the end of May. If you start at St. Jean, you’ll need to pack for cold weather you may not face for a while and the long downhill into Roncesvalles is prime territory for falls, blisters, and other trouble. It is not worth it, unless your goal requires crossing the Pyrenees (see earlier comment about “why?”)
Very cute
Some related thoughts: yes, the Camino Frances “starts” at St. Jean Pied de Port, but what does that even mean? When you drive somewhere, do you insist on driving to the “start” of the road? It is worth considering what a medieval pilgrimage was like, versus some idealized version we may have today. Pilgrims started from home. They walked because that was the only way to get there: you had to be rich to have a horse, and to keep it fed on such a journey. So don’t make a walking fetish out of their necessity! Do you think a medieval pilgrim turned down a cart ride to the next town? They walked the route of least resistance, begging or offering to work for room and board. The point was not to suffer, because life itself was already full of suffering. The point was to place yourself entirely in God’s hands, either as penance, or in thanksgiving, or in praise, and let whatever happens, happen. Guess what? Many pilgrims died on the way (to the oft quoted “the Camino provides” I always wanted to say “what? an early death?”). So you should probably disabuse yourself of the notion you will be recreating a medieval pilgrimage. It frees you to have your own Camino.
About that phrase “the Camino provides.” Now I know this phrase is shorthand for the spirit of goodwill one encounters on the way, but I think it is a little misleading. The Camino is a route. It is inanimate. It provides nothing. Sometimes, perhaps many times, other people provide help when it is most needed: other pilgrims, hospitaleros, locals. But do not think the Camino will provide. Consider this thought: if you choose not to carry Compeed for your blisters, and you get some blisters, you can sit and wait for help. But if the pilgrims following you all expect the Camino to provide, they will not have Compeed either! So help yourself by preparing with a few key items, which even if you don’t use, you can share. Among these are Compeed, pain reliever, anti-diarrheal, extra water, salt, sugar, cold meds, and antihistamines, and appropriate snacks. Most of these are things you can get at the next farmácia, but if you need an AD now, the next farmácia is always too far!
Try different lodging arrangements for the first two weeks, then select what you like best and schedule out three to four days in advance. Municipal and parochial albergues and donativos are great ways to meet people and save money, but if you want to stay in them, invest in some high quality earplugs or noise cancelling headphones. You will hear snoring the likes of which you never thought possible.
Splurge!
Private albergues, pensions, and hostals cost more and provide some privacy. You may decide to continue mixing it up after the first few weeks; just remember to keep scheduling out your reservations; once you hit Sarria it is essential, due to crowding.
Find an eating rhythm that works for you and Spain. In the smaller towns you can find places which cater more to pilgrim hours; in the big cities not so much in my experience. Many pilgrims get up early (0600) and have a small breakfast, get walking, stop mid-morning for a second breakfast, do lunch around 1330 and then dinner at 1930. Some pilgrim restaurants will serve a pilgrim menu (prix fixe) at lunch, some at dinner. Remember there is a siesta time in the later afternoon when even bars may close, and other hours where only tapas are served. Watch out for when breakfast (desayuno) is served, and especially for Sunday morning, when very little is open.
Consider taking shortcuts of all types. What!? No real pilgrim takes a shortcut: oh, but they did, and still do! Bring too much gear? You can ship it forward from any post office (Correos) in Spain. Have too much stuff to carry up that hill tomorrow? You can ship your backpack forward to the next stop. Notice a route where you are 500 meters from the next town, but the Camino zigs two kilometers to pass a church or Roman bridge? Go straight to the town, if you like.
Worth the extra time
Another even-more controversial idea: use the bigger cities as a way to make up time while extending your city-visit time. Big cities have buses, trains, and taxi routes. As you approach a big city (Burgos or León, for example), catch mass transit going in to avoid hiking the suburbs, and the same on the way out. Take the time you save (which could be as much as a day or two) and stay in the city. It is a shame to walk through a magnificent city like León and hurry through it. Don’t like the repetition of the entire Meseta, or the nasty downhill into Ponferrada? Skip some or all. Again this might seem like heresy, but do what fits in with your schedule and personal goals, not what everybody else does or a Camino purist suggests. You will hear people say “it’s your Camino” but that phrase sometimes comes with an implied “tut-tut” when what you have decided to do does not meet with the other person’s ideal Camino. Here is the plain fact: everyone walks their own Camino, and no one walks the same Camino twice. It is just “the way” to where you are going. Be confident in your choices.
Know what weather most affects you, and prepare to mitigate it. I can easily handle hot weather and rain; I find cold rain and wind unbearable. You can’t prepare equally for all the weather possibilities, especially in the Pyrenees and Galicia. For the outlier weather, you might consider rummaging in the “give-and-take” box at your albergue. Take something, wear it as needed, get it washed, and either drop it off or return it.
Ugliness wins!
Fight the urge to leave behind something about you on the Camino. Graffiti is ugly, tasteless, and illegal regardless of what it says. Some like to place rocks on everything. Making a stone-pile arrow to point the way? Very cool! Piling rocks on every route marker? No. Sometimes those markers are the only place to sit down for miles! You will see some nice permanent memorials to recent pilgrims who died on the way; others add pictures and papers and toys from their loved ones to these memorials, which is
Let it be
touching, but eventually results in a wet pile of rubbish. Some pile up rocks as little altars; perhaps they anticipate small druids coming behind them? Here’s a suggestion: if you have this urge, find some larger flat rocks and make a seat. I guarantee you pilgrims coming along behind you will bless you everyday. Better still, use your sharp ended poles to pick up trash; carry a spare bolsa with you and dump it when you take breaks.
On a related but delicate topic, you will probably do as bears do and poop in the woods at some point. Some pointers: do not stop, drop, and roll. First, identify a relatively private spot. Second, use the heal of your shoe to kick (back and down) a small dent in the ground: it might take several kicks. Aim and fire. If your aim was bad, use your TP to get your product in the hole. Place the TP there too, then kick dirt back over the hole and move on. I guess this word hasn’t gotten around, based on the elephant burial grounds I stumbled into off the Camino!
The fewer clothes you bring, the more you will rely on laundry. This means to keep your pack light, you become more vulnerable to whether (your next stop has laundry services) or weather. Sure, under some circumstances you can just wear the same clothes again, but do you really want to? We had cold, wet weather nearly the entire month of May. We could always hand wash our clothes, but that meant wearing clean wet clothes in the morning. Sometimes the dryers worked, sometimes not. In the bigger towns, we usually found a laundromat, which was always clean, well-equipped, and cheap. I strongly encourage pilgrims to consider this option, as it only cost about an hour of time and six Euros for warm, clean, dry laundry.
Finally, a comment about pain, suffering, and discouragement. You’ll encounter all of them on the camino. Some suggest this is the heart of the Camino, this is how you discover something about yourself: they did. If that is the case for you, I can assure you, the Camino will indeed provide. You don’t need to seek pain out, or add to it. One of the main lessons I re-learned is we all have our limits, and they are all different. When well-meaning enthusiasts are telling you to just keep going, keep carrying, it’s not that bad, remember all those pilgrims who didn’t make it, back then or now. Yes, push yourself, but recognize your limits, and finish your Camino, according to your goals, under your rules. Buen camino!
Here’s a collection of thoughts I had walking in the rain across Spain. I was too tired most nights to flesh them out and post them, but they lingered in my mind, so here they are now. If they are half-baked, put them back in the microwave for a few minutes and see if they make more sense.
Extroverts probably enjoy the Camino more then introverts. Introverts can certainly find quiet time and walk alone, but for extroverts, the Camino Frances is like an extended, adult summer camp. Every 100 meters or so, there is a brand new friend you can share your life story with, and who will share theirs with you! Look, we already have something in common: we are on the Camino! Extroverts can overshare with little worry, pledge to be BFFs, then move along to the next fellow pilgrim. That has to be very attractive to extroverts!
Oooh, friends!
The single biggest variable in whether you will enjoy your Camino is this: do you really like the great outdoors? Yes, I know, Captain Obvious talking here, but in all the reading and research I did before the Camino, I never saw it put that way. You’re spending 8-12 hours outside every day. If you are an outdoors person, you will find a way to love the heat, the cool, the rain , the fog, the mud, the dry, the pollen, the manure, and (ahem) eliminating in public. If you’re not such a person, these things will wear on you. Simple as that.
I love puddles!
John Brierly of guidebook fame had a social media post the other day where he was defending his inclusion of “mystic” guidance in his books because he feared that pilgrims were losing the notion of pilgrimage as something more than a hike. I am sympathetic to his view, but he misses the religious forest for the mystic trees. Would-be pilgrims come primarily from a variety of advanced, industrialized societies that are increasingly secular. You can’t take someone steeped in non-religious or anti-religious culture and give them a few mystic thoughts for their walk in the woods and get a “pilgrim.”
99.9% of the Bicigrinos (bike pilgrims) are wonderful people who ring bells, shout “buen Camino” and share the trail well. Those that weave through the walkers at 30 kph on treacherous downhill sections without warning? Saint James would like a word with you.
Northern Spanish cuisine, in which I include Basque and Galician, is very simple but delicious: high quality ingredients without many additional spices or sauces. It restored my faith in peppers as something not to be feared, just enjoyed.
Speaking a little Spanish goes a long way on the Camino. Just mastering a combination of por favor, buenas-, gracias, ay-perdon, lo siento, and donde will help immeasurably.
Some pilgrims (apparently) carry things like Sharpie’s in order to write something profound and permanent in public. Don’t. You are not profound, even after a pitcher of sangria. Nor are you witty, or original, or encouraging, or motivating, or appreciated, when you scrawl or scratch something on a fence, tree, rock, or whatever. Just walk, por favor.
No.
How many more pilgrims can the Camino Frances sustain before it becomes a Disneyfied charicature of a pilgrimage? The numbers keep increasing, and the way from Sarria at times resembles the walk toward a football match from a distant parking lot. It is ok for now, but continues to grow at a steady rate.
The Camino will redefine the meaning of the word “hill” for you. Mountains will still be the same, but from now on, when someone says “there’s a hill” you will go all Crocodile Dundee with a “that’s not a hill, this is a hill” story from the Camino.
I got very angry several times out on the Camino: not just mad, but downright seething. It was always due to bad information provided to me, that led in turn to either bad advice or bad decisions, which could have been dangerous for my wife and me. I prayed about why this was happening. Certainly God didn’t want me to accept this with equanimity (“hey, we could have been seriously injured, but no harm, no foul!”). No, this was righteous anger, and it was our very own pilgrim St. James, one of the sons of thunder, who asked Jesus to call lightning down on evil-doers. In a moment of clarity, the Holy Spirit inspired this thought in me: my righteous anger was a tiny taste of that which God experiences every day, as we promise to do better and then fail Him time and again. His justice would demand severe punishment, but his Divine Mercy is fathomless and unrelenting, if we only ask for it. So He forgives us. My anger was just a prelude to learning how to be more merciful, just as God is merciful.
Angry like this guy
One of the big mysteries of the Camino is “will the Botafumeiro swing when I reach Santiago?” Here is a good clue. Around 1030, go to the museum and get a Pilgrim’s ticket and walk around. When you get to the 2nd level, the cloisters, walk around the courtyard to where the entrance to the Sacristy is (it is marked, but with a Prohibida sign). If there’s a brazier out in the corner of the courtyard and it has charcoal heating up, the Botafumeiro will swing at the end of Mass. You can use the side entrance from the museum to go directly into the cathedral and see the Botafumeiro, then return to the museum.
Look, a clue!
I will have one final Camino post, a wrap-up for those considering doing the Camino.
If you get a little bored with our constant rendition of “we got up early, we walked far, the weather was bad, we were tired, we ate well, we went to bed early,” imagine how we feel! We are on the Meseta now, so our view never changes. But just to change things up for you, Judy & I worked on a thematic post (tongue planted firmly in cheek) which we share with you now:
The Eight Plagues of the Camino. Yes, I know that ancient Egypt suffered ten plagues, but we’re not done yet, so I left some space for suggestions. In Camino guidebooks and on webboards/social media, you can find many positive experiences from the Camino. These are not those. In no particular order here are the Plagues:
Snorers. We’re not talking your garden variety, mouth-breathing, rumbler. In an albergue room of 20-30 pilgrims, you’ll always find some of those…in fact I am listening to several right now as I write this at 4:00 in the afternoon. No, we’re talking roaring, snorting, animal noises like a chain-smoking velociraptor. And regardless of how small a room you’re in, there is always at least one.
Rocks. For some strange reason, it appears the Spaniards have gathered rocks from their fields, and not made fences, but instead dropped them in piles on the Camino, especially in areas with steep hills. Not gravel, but just rocks, which then wash down the trail creating little creek beds to stumble across. You can try walking around them, but there lies mud (more on that later). If you step on them, you bruise the bottom of your foot AND get the possibility of starting to slide or fall.
Mud. I have read some magnificent trail journals by pilgrims who experienced no rain on their Camino. I hate them. We traded the gray clay of the Pyrenees for the red clay of La Rioja, both sufficiently moisturized into a thick slurry which sticks to your boots, your pants, and your poles. The mud covers everything, eliminating the chance to rest by sitting down, and making the optional daily clothes washing mandatory, if you want to wear clothes (recommended).
False prophets. These come in a variety of shapes and sizes. There’s the optimistic pilgrim who insists the weather will get better tomorrow. There are the random signs which tell you it’s 10 kilometers to Azofra, then it’s 12 kilometers away (wait, is Azofra moving away from me?), no, now it’s only 6 kilometers. But the worst are the Caministas, the folks who have fallen head over heels in love with the camino. You see, people in love are rarely objective. Chief among these is a certain John Brierly, whose English language guidebook to the Camino Franced is about as accurate as using the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales as a guide for travel through Germany. If you want to learn how to “experience” the camino, his book might work for you. If you are interested in more mundane matters like eating, sleeping, and not getting lost, not so much.
Domingo. You may know this as the Spanish word for Sunday, but it has a special camino significance. Spaniards take Saturday night very seriously, so Sunday does not start until noon. No kidding, there is no such thing as Sunday morning. Since there is no such thing, there are also no stores, restaurants, cafes, nada open during this non-time. When walking the Camino, make sure you factor this in!
Blisters. When walking 800 kilometers, it is quite likely you’ll eventually discover you have a blister. Blister prevention and care is a hot topic among pilgrims, and may be an even more volatile subject than politics! There’s the no socks, just sandals crowd, the silk liners and wool socks cabal, the vaseline group, foot powder fanatics, and that is just in the prevention discussion. Once you have a blister, everybody has a VERY STRONG opinion: Lance it! No don’t, it will get infected. Leave it alone! Compeed! Amputate! And my personal favorite: you wouldn’t get a blister if you (repeat prevention argument here).
Sudden Urges. As in, “I ate some picante pimientos last night, and now I have the sudden urge to do something about it, even though I am standing on a wide open trail in the middle of a vast vineyard.” Since all pilgrims face the same dilemma, we all eventually become rather blasé about taking care of such matters with a minimum of concealment. More shocking still is to think you’ve found an ideal, out of the way spot only to discover many, many, others have been there before. I will leave this picture to your imagination.
Timers. Europeans are very ecologically minded, and the Camino is a mass movement of people where much water and power could be wasted. Sooooo, your showers and bathroom lights are all on timers. You know it’s for a good cause, and it gets pretty easy to time the water and complete a shower without much trouble. However, many of the toilet stalls have a light timer far from the commode, meaning darkness comes upon you at the most inauspicious times. And the toilets are interior rooms, no windows, sometimes not even the timer switch is illuminated. So have a phone at the ready as a flashlight.
If you’re a Camino veteran, feel free to suggest additional plagues. I avoided anything ambiguous, like weather, since a cold rain in the Pyrenees might seem pestilential, but the same rain on a hot Meseta afternoon might seem providential.
Ever heard of dynamic equivalence? It is a form of translation where the new, translated text seeks to capture the meaning of the original language without worrying about what it literally said. It is used appropriately when translating an idiomatic phrase like “killing two birds with one stone” which is not about birds, a stone, or killing. However, it can be very controversial in other genres (like Biblical texts) because at its root dynamic equivalence substitutes the translator’s understanding for what was actually said.
Anyway, I’m going to attempt a little dynamic equivalent translation of a concept you may already know: Cinqo de Mayo. Now the obvious direct translation is the 5th of May, and that is correct as far as it goes. In the US, Cinqo de Mayo has become a multi-purpose ethnic holiday for all things Mexican, like St. Patrick’s day for the Irish.
Some Americans think Cinqo de Mayo is Mexican independence day, akin to our 4th of July. Its not, that’s September 16th, which began with “El Grito” (The Yell) and started the revolution which overthrew the Spanish. Some may know Cinqo de Mayo commemorates a battle, but what battle, and what war?
The Battle of Puebla
Here’s the deal. After the US invasion of Mexico in 1846-48, Mexican society eventually broke down into an internal conflict which lasted three years and bankrupted the country by 1861. Mexico had outstanding debts with several European governments, which sent forces to intimidate Mexico unless the debts were repaid. Mexico negotiated a settlement, but France (under Napoleon III) decided the time was ripe (since the US was busy tearing itself apart and the British were as angry as anyone at Mexico) to invade and establish a Mexican Empire aligned with France.
French troops seized the port of Veracruz and marched toward Mexico City. On May 5th, 1862, a small, ill-equipped Mexican garrison in Puebla decisively defeated a larger French professional force, which withdrew. The bad news was the victory was followed by a larger French invasion force which did overthrow the Mexican government and install Maximilian I, although his “Latin American Empire” (a manufactured notion whose only legacy was that term “Latin America”) lasted only three years before the Mexicans rebelled, overthrew and killed Maximilian.
The French Army was considered the best in the world at the time. Cinqo de Mayo represented a singular victory in an otherwise losing campaign of a war which was ultimately won by Mexico. While it was significant at the time, it was afterward really only celebrated locally in the Mexican state of Puebla. The big American celebration has as much to do with advertising (beer companies) and the willingness of the Mexican expatriate community in the States to join in the fun. There is a parallel here to the Irish expat community in the US: St. Patrick’s Day was a solemn religious feast in Ireland, but it morphed into the brewfest it is in the States when the Irish there embraced it.
So how should Americans understand Cinqo de Mayo? Here is my dynamic equivalent translation: Bunker Hill Day. Most should be familiar with the American Revolution battle of Bunker Hill (actually fought on Breed’s Hill).
The Battle of Bunker Hill
The British forces in Boston stormed the heights, winning the battle but at great cost. Ultimately they withdrew from the hill and from Boston, fought seven more years and lost, ending British control of those colonies. Bunker Hill Day is still a state holiday in Massachusetts, but little remembered elsewhere. Maybe the beer companies will get a hold of it too someday!
Both battles were more symbolically than militarily important, both pointed to ultimate victory, and both were only remembered regionally. So when you hoist a Margarita (rocas, con sal) and eat your guacamole this year on Cinqo de Mayo, you can regale your friends with the parallels to Bunker Hill; just be ready to duck when they start throwing nachos!
Some caminos begin with breathtaking videos from the mountain vistas of the Pyrenees. This was not one of those. As we stepped out of the Porte Espana, the rain began. The temperature only climbed to the mid 40s, and then fell as we ascended the path. A dense fog set in, or maybe we entered the storm clouds themselves as we climbed, but all we could see was the next turn, a path which only went up. The steady cold rain turned the trail into a red, muddy mess. It took us about two and a half hours to complete the 8 kilometers to Orrison, where we had a hot soup for lunch then settled into bunks for a rest before a communal evening meal.
The ascent was every bit as challenging as promised, with the weather simply a bonus. The dense fog made distance indeterminate, which is all the more daunting uphill.
Judy finally said “if we turn one more corner to find another hill, I will cry.” St. James took pity on us, and the next corner uncovered a short downhill stretch before our destination. We reached Orisson safely, and even found a dryer for our gear, which wasn’t going to dry until June given the local temperature and humidity.
Pictures will have to wait until another day. I am the only one around with any internet connectivity, and it is very S. L. O. W.
The communal meal was lovely: we sat with a group of Aussies and had a cheery good time. Now you might think that bad weather, hard exercise, hearty food and plentiful wine would occasion a visit by the bane of albergue nights, the snorer. Not so! As I tried to fall asleep, I only heard one sound at first: a wild boar which seemed to be rooting and rutting with great gusto somewhere near our cabin. Then I heard another sound: some energetic young Basque had a battery powered chain saw, and was attempting to chase off the boar. The boar versus Basque battle raged pretty much all night long, while neither seemed to gain the upper hand. But at least I didn’t hear any snoring!😉
By now you have no doubt heard about Andrés Manuel López Obrador, popularly known as AMLO (“ahm-low”) the President-elect of Mexico who will take office on December 1st. He is an interesting character, and worth getting to know better, as he portends major changes in Mexico.
