Culture – Page 23 – Pat the Expat

So you want to be a pilgrim?

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

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?”)

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.

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.

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.

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

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!

Musings from the 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.

The Plagues of 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.

Cinqo de Mayo

A short commercial break from Camino news!

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?

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 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!

Across the Pyrenees

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!😉

Saint Jean Pied de Port

Saint John “at the foot of the pass” is the traditional beginning of the Camino Frances, or French Way, the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela. Technically in France, Saint Jean is a Basque town, just like those across the border in Spain. It lies along the main route across the Pyrenees mountains: Napoleon took this way, as did Roland and the Moors. None found the local inhabitants very welcoming.

We had a better reception. We arrived on May 1st, Labor Day everywhere but the US, so many businesses were closed. At least there were no local partisans lurking with ill intent. Saint Jean is a picturesque, tiny village. It is a company town, and the business is pilgrimage. There are restaurants geared toward pilgrims, hotels and albergues, gear shops, and a pilgrimage office where one goes to officially begin one’s pilgrimage.

As we got in late in the afternoon on Tuesday, we planned to take a full rest day on Wednesday, attend to some admin details, then begin the Camino bright and early on Thursday. We met some fellow pilgrims, walked the old town walls, visited the citadelle, and had a proper French picnic in the park. All the while, looming over us in the distance, was the route over the Pyrenees. Tomorrow, buen camino!

Lourdes, France

After an uneventful Ryanair flight, we arrived in Lourdes, France. I do need to give Ryanair kudos: although their seats are uncomfortable and they hawk way too much merchandise, they boarded the aircraft efficiently, took off on time, landed early, and did not lose our bags. We didn’t get a super cheap fare, but they were the only carrier with a non-stop flight from Krakow to Lourdes, which was key to making the Eastern European part of our pilgrimage work.

Certainly most readers are familiar with the story of Bernadette Soubirous, the young French girl who saw an apparition of the Virgin Mary in 1858. Mary asked her to have a chapel built over a foul local spring which would prove to be a source of health. The spring became clear and the waters became a source of miraculous cures, leading Lourdes to become a major pilgrimage site. Bernadette went on to become a nun, and died from tuberculosis in 1879. Her remains have been exhumed and examined by doctors three times, all commenting on the general lack of decay. While the Church has found the private revelation of Lourdes worthy of belief (i.e., it is consistent with the public revelation of Jesus Christ), no Catholic is obligated to believe in it. As is often the case, local church leaders were very skeptical, and scrutinized the case closely. It was only after Bernadette explained that the woman who appeared to her called herself “the Immaculate Conception,” an obscure reference to a Papal decree on Mary that the nearly illiterate Basque schoolgirl would not have been familiar with, that the local officials’ opinion changed.

For perspective, the grotto is lower right here

However you feel about Marian apparitions, the grotto at Lourdes has been the sight of 67 confirmed miraculous cures since it was established. There are thousands more claimed cures, but boards of doctors have officially only identified these 67. The power of faith among the sick coming to Lourdes is something to behold. There is an endless stream of people on crutches, in bandages, in wheelchairs, all heading to the grotto or the baths.

We had the opportunity to attend Mass in English and pray the rosary. We also hiked to the top of the citadelle.

In the fort they have a very nice museum of the Pyrenees, and some amazing views.

Here’s a money shot:

We enjoyed a first taste of Basque cuisine (hearty vegetable soup, octopus in chili garlic sauce, pear crumble, all washed down with a fine local red wine) and got ready for our last move before the Camino.

One last comment: Lourdes is sometimes called the “Catholic Disneyland” because of the commercialization surrounding the grotto. On the grounds it is peaceful and solemn, but next door?

Krakow: Sacred and Profane (II)

The city of Krakow is a jewel. What makes it so unique is that it has been any important city since the 7th century, yet it has remained relatively intact over all those violent years. If you have visited Europe you know there are many amazing cities where so much of the architecture has been recreated after its destruction during the Second World War. Krakow escaped such destruction. By the time the Nazis occupied it the fighting was over at the beginning of the war. When the Soviet Army came to liberate Krakow they swept through and caused very little damage. Thus Krakow retains much of its charming medieval character.

This is St. Mary’s Basilica in Krakow’s old town; it dates to the 14th century. I have no interior pictures because we entered to pray, not as tourists, so no photos.

We took some organized tours for our final days in Krakow. One went to the Wieliczka salt mine, an absolutely huge underground site on the outskirts of town. The mine functioned from the 1200s until 2007; now it’s a UNESCO world heritage site. It has numerous chambers and over 100 miles of tunnels. The most amazing thing to me was the various salt sculptures completed by the miners, along with almost 40 chapels: the miners apparently never wanted to be far from a place to pray when they were underground. And yes, JPII even has a salt mine statue!

“Polish for foreigners?” I guess the domestic market is saturated.

I’ll conclude my Krakow thoughts by returning to John Paul II. Our tour guide compared the way locals feel about him to Americans and Elvis. While the comparison is superficial, it does capture the warmth of the relationship. Perhaps based on their unique history, the Poles grasp something about JPII that others miss: just as the triumph of freedom over Nazi tyranny was essentially the story of FDR and Churchill, the triumph of freedom over communism ended up being the story of Reagan and Wojtyla.

Krakow: Sacred and Profane (I)

Vilnius was just beginning to look like Spring; in Krakow, Spring has fully sprung.

Prior to his death in 2005 there was some evidence of Saint Pope John Paul’s life in Krakow. However since the death of its former bishop and first Polish Pope, Krakow has really embraced its most favorite son and now he literally looms over the city. Karol Wojtyla was a most amazing character. He lost his mom and brother when he was still young, and his dad died during World War II. All alone and in the midst of Nazi-occupied Poland, he decided to become a Catholic priest, and attended a secret underground seminary in Krakow.

This sounds matter-of-fact now, but at the time it was a particularly courageous decision. The Nazis had singled out the Catholic hierarchy (all of the priests and religious) as well as the Polish nobility for liquidation. They sought to turn Poland into a vast farm and industrial labor camp to support their master race. Polish peasants would be the workforce for their Nazi overseers, but if the Polish leadership was still intact, they would oppose the Nazi plan. By joining the Polish clergy, Karol Wojtyla was signing his death warrant, since 90% of Polish priests were killed during the war!

Today, Saint John Paul is everywhere in Krakow. We visited his shrine, as well as the Shrine of Divine Mercy which John Paul established in Krakow in honor of Saint Faustina. Unlike some modern churches which resemble theaters-in-the-round or gymnasiums, the Divine Mercy Basilica is a remarkably modern take on ancient religious architecture.

When we travel, we prefer to stay in eclectic local accomodations and eat where the locals do. For example, our BnB in Vilnius was a converted monastery connected to a church, but with no resident staff. In Krakow our room is just around the corner from the main square, off a dark entryway and up three flights of stairs. We had an excellent lunch at one of the few remaining milk bars in Poland. Milk bars were a communist phenomenon: inexpensive, government subsidized diners serving large portions of hearty fare for the workers of the worker’s paradise. After communism collapsed, most milk bars did too. Krakow still has one, although it is a cross between a traditional milk bar and a Portlandia sandwich shop. Dinner that night was a basement cafe hidden inside a library. The theme was Grandma’s cabin in the woods. You stand in line to order, pay and wait for your number to be called, retrieve and eat your dinner, then bus your own plates. Meanwhile, the staff is mostly grandmothers supervising everything.

There is an amazing archaeological museum beneath the Rynek market in the middle of Krakow. They discovered layered ruins back in the early 2000s, and decided to unearth and preserve them. They did so, then rebuilt a roof over the now underground museum so the square looks unchanged. The layers of market history trace all the way back to the 14th century, showcased in a state-of-the-art facility which overlays video effects on the exposed ruins. The market square remains much as it has been for 700 years, despite all the other changes over that period.

Krakow is a very interesting mix of well-preserved tradition, proud culture, and vibrant youth (Jagiellonian University is one of the world’s oldest) and well worth the visit.

Travel day

Wednesday was a non-stop day on the move. We departed for the bus station around 5 AM and hiked a mile in the dark with everything we owned packed on us like mules. It was so early nothing was open yet except the McDonalds at the adjacent train stration, so we had that for breakfast. We took an uneventful 8 hour bus ride to Warsaw, where we intended to catch a train to Krakow.

But the first train was full, so we ended up with one first class ticket and one standing ticket on a later train. Which took 3 hours to get there. I’ll let you guess who got what ticket. What I don’t understand is that with one hour left on the trip, the train staff opened up another car and gave us seats, when they could have just sold us those seats in the first place, and the standing ticket I had was discounted. Sometimes you just have to accept things as they come: those “why?” questions can drive you crazy.

The extra time in Warsaw gave us a chance to grab a lunch at…wait for it…McDonalds. This one was outfitted with surly big city folk, people crowding the aisles and talking loudly on cell phones, security guards making sure only customers used the restroom, and wait staff who dismissed our questions with a contemptuous wave of the back of the hand. We looked like a couple of refugees with all our packs and bags, and we were treated accordingly. Even the view out the window was ugly.

We squezzed on board the train, rode to Krakow and disembarked. We had to traverse a shopping mall to get to the old city and arrive at our BnB, where we unpacked and went out for some warm cabbage soup, kielbasa, and beer before collapsing into bed.

Travel days are never fun. They must be rated on an entirely different scale. Did you arrive safely? Were you injured? Were you ever at risk? If you can answer yes, no, and no, it was a good day.