Travel – Page 11 – Pat the Expat

Navarette & Najera

We left Logroño without a lot of juice in the tank, and decided to walk just 12 kilometers to Navarette. It was a cool day even though the sun was bright; the temperature never got above 60 degrees. Tomorrow it may not break 50, with rain, so we’re looking at another short day.

Judy’s knees started to hurt pretty bad, even over the shortened distance today, so we’ll try sending her pack forward to meet us at the next stop. There is a well developed system for doing this, and it only costs 3-5 Euros per stage. However, you have to make a reservation, and you need to know exactly where you’ll land the next day, which complicates the planning. Our hope is that the reduced weight of her load will give her a chance to heal.

We met up with the Aussie members of our pilgrim family: people we met that first night in Orrison and have run into repeatedly since. We spent the afternoon together doing laundry and working out places to stay tomorrow: such is the life on the Camino.

Along the way today, there was a long chain link fence which was filled with makeshift crosses placed by pilgrims. I added one, with a prayer, for all those we promised to pray for, and all those who were praying for us.

While we were walking around Navarette, we went into Our Lady of the Assumption, the local parish. Mind you, this is a little village of 5,000 souls, but the church was magnificent. Unlike our visit to Barcelona a few years back, where many of the church buildings were repurposed as museums or cafés or apartments, every town in this part of Spain has a treasured church with remarkable art.

On Saturday, we got a little rain, but mostly just overcast skies and cool temps. Even without a backpack, Judy had some knee pain, so we’ll take a rest day on Sunday. After all, it’s been ten straight days of hiking, so we can use the break, even if this is a small town.

I have had terrible luck the last two days uploading pics, so I will just post this update for now and add some pictures later.

Logroño vía Los Arcos

Gent playing “Cantar no llores ” on violin

Evening before last we ate dinner in Estella, then we decided to visit the local church. The doors were locked, but as we turned to leave, the door opened and someone invited us in. We wete very happy to catch the tale end of Mass. We had an overcast but not rainy day from Estella, and we made the most of it, running up another 27 kilometers to Los Arcos. We skipped the famous wine fountain at Irache, mostly because we hit it before 8:00 am, and who wants wine–even if it’s free–at that hour? The route was more ups and downs, with less towns and support along the way. The skies threatened all day long, but never delivered the rain which seemed imminent. We crosed the goat’s pass, and got into Los Arcos just before 3:00, and ended up with a private room in a pensíon again, as the cheaper rooms in the albergues were all taken.

We continue to eat ourselves very full of pintxos and pilgrim dinners, and we split two pitchers of Sangria before dinner, which was probably one pitcher too many.

We got an early start today, under more cloudy skies and possible rain, but our blessings held and we stayed dry. The walk was once again long: almost 29 kilometers, over the inevitable hills and valleys. At least we made it La Rioja, the famous wine region, and we’re staying in Logroño. We will certainly take a short hike tomorrow, because we are wiped out.

We’re staying in an albergue tonight, so we’ll doubtless hear the song of the snorebirds. I have been amazed how many times people ask if they snored, and looked honestly surprised when I told them they did! I think the Camino should have badges for snorers, rated by quality and type. A simple smiley face for non-snorers, a large “Zzz” for the rhythmic snorers, a boar’s head badge for the very loud, and a chainsaw symbol for the truly earth-shattering. The stickers would be in the dorm, and those kept up all night by the snoring could attach the sticker to the snorer’s backpack. We might even be able to establish rooms based on badges. Personally, I think I merit a solid “Zzz.” These are the kinds of crazy thoughts that wander through one’s mind at 1:00 am!

Un buen día

Today the weather was perfect, things fell into place, and we had an excellent Camino from Villatuerte to Estella. We walked a total of 27 kilometers, even going a few over our goal as we sought a pensíon for the evening.

First thing in the morning, we had some coffee and hit the road, anticipating an open cafe just a mile or two down the road, and there it was! Fortified by a tortilla española, we crossed through Punta la Reina and its famous Romanesque bridge. Now the Camino continued to wander up and down the local hill towns, but there were longer flat stretches with decent trail surface. We did walk on an original Roman road, which was historical but dreadful. I can’t blame the Romans: they only guaranteed their work for one millennium, and now it’s a full millennium past it’s wear out date, so of course it was a wreck!

A very unusual Y cross in Punta; prayers returned to all out there!

We had a delicious lunch of bocadilla, another tortilla española, and several bowls of fresh lentil soup…oh, and a cerveza, don’t forget the cerveza. We skipped past Villatuerte and landed in Estella in a nice little pensíon.

None of which is to say we aren’t exhausted, a little blistered and sun-burned, and emotionally fatigued. But today was more like the Camino I envisioned, and less like some weird re-creation of Beast Barracks (Google it).

A Camino Moment

Things were pretty bleak yesterday in Pamplona. After I caught the blog up, we rested until the early evening. We decided we needed to get dinner, if nothing else, so we got up and went out. The pintxos bar across the street had some excellent snacks and wine, and the nearest ATM fully cooperated. So we even agreed to go on a little sightseeing hobble around the town.

We were a few blocks from the Cathedral when we saw a little church tucked into a side street, and the door was open. You cannot fathom how random this seemed: every block has a church on it, and many have an open door, but something told us to enter.

When we did, we were warmly greeted and told in English that a multi-lingual prayer service for pilgrims was just about to begin. We stayed and joined in with 12 other pilgrims from Canada, Italy, Mexico, and Spain. Then three Dominican priests asked us all up on the altar for a Sunday evening Mass! It was all so beautiful, and served to remind us why we are here.

With full spirits and full bellies, we had a great night’s sleep. We didn’t leave Pamplona until 9:00 the next morning, and the weather was bright and warm. We had an uneventful walk through the suburbs, but with Alto del Perdón always looking on the horizon.

I couldn’t resist telling the pilgrims which way to go

We climbed it, took the requisite photo op with the famous pilgrim statues/art, then completed another 8 kilometers (21 for the day) when we checked into our albergue for the evening. This one even has a pool, which is great tonic for tired legs!

Finally, for my daily truth-on-the-camino fact, here is a shot along one of the nicer parts of the trail, where you can clearly see that while the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain, the pollen in Spain lies heavy on the Camino.

A load of bull in Pamplona

After two more hard days, we arrived in Pamplona Sunday morning physically and emotionally exhausted. As friends suggested, we got a real hotel room and are recuperating after a hot shower and a nap. With a good dinner and night’s rest, and all your prayers, we will resume the Camino tomorrow.

When we left Roncesvalles we thought we were out of the worst of the trail because we were leaving the Pyrenees and the weather was improving. Our guidebook described one hill and a “mystical walk alongside the river.” Now the book was wrong about where a bridge was day one, and where a mountain was day two, but certainly that was the end of it, right? The hill turned out to be a series of hills, and the riverside stroll was on a loose gravel path up and down the old river embankment. Although we left early we quickly fell off pace and knew we were not going to make it to our goal, but we also knew we could not stop in Zubiri, the next big town, because that is where the guidebook tells everyone to stop. Plus we knew there is a pilgrim bubble on the Camino now, with too many pilgrims bunched together trying to get to the same set of rooms each night.

The Basque have a rule: you must take this picture

We trudged on to Larrasoaña, an extra 5 kilometers, for a day total of over 27 kms. Since we arrived so late (around 3:00 pm), the nicer albergues were full. After wandering around town, we ended up in the municipal albergue, where our board of 8 Euros each included a plastic covered bunk bed, no heat, and no hot water! But wait, there’s more. We walked around the small village only to learn only one bar (which is both food and drink here) was open. Ok, no problema, they had a pilgrim meal available for us, which we greatly enjoyed.

What about breakfast, we asked. Sorry, no breakfast, but there is a cafe in the next town (4 kilometers). At dawn we set off, up and down the hills we were not told of, only to arrive at a closed cafe, because it’s Sunday, and in Spain Sunday does not begin before noon. So we marched on past one sleeping town after another all the way (16 kilometers) to downtown Pamplona, where the cafes were just opening at 11:00 am. The only reason we made it was they had a coffee automat machine where we started, and a guy named Dan from Idaho (not kidding) was dispensing fresh coffee trailside just before we entered the city outskirts. As we walked up the hill to enter the old town’s walls, Judy was way beyond her limits. We never trained beyond 3 miles without breakfast, since “there’s always a cafe.” She said, “is there a town inside the walls? This better not be a ruin!” The sad effects of no food, little coffee, and way too much hiking.

We stumbled into the first open bar, dropped our backpacks, and ordered a huge breakfast with mucho café. After our credit card was rejected at the bar and an ATM, we were really worried we now had a money problem, too. The guidebook was totally wrong about the location of several places to stay, so we ended up circling back to the tourist info center where they kindly found us a hotel room. Meanwhile, Judy called our bank and ensured we had no money problem.

After all that drama, we decided to call it a day, rest and regroup, and recommence our Camino on Monday morning. Thanks so much to all of you sending prayers: it was touch and go several times today, and I know it was only the Holy Spirit holding it all together!

Roncesvalles at last

Last night at the pilgrims’ dinner, we all complained about the weather, but expressed hope the next day would be different. It was different. It just wasn’t better. We replaced the steady rain with a just as steady wind. The temps continued to drop as we continued to climb: it was just above freezing all day. And the fog/clouds remained with us. This did provide one very unusual visual effect: when the wind howled, it would temporarily disperse the fog, providing a glimpse of the countryside before the fog literally descended upon us again.

We hiked 25 kilometers and hit an elevation of 1400 meters. Part of the route was closed due to the rains making it too dangerous and slippery. We staggered in to the albergue at Roncesvalles around 1:00 pm. We were some of the first arrivals of the day, so we were able to hit the bar for lunch, get a hot shower, do a load of laundry, and catch up with the internet.

Judy has been a real trooper: we picked May to walk the Camino to avoid the worst weather in the Pyranees, and we targeted our gear on surviving the hot weather on the meseta. We never anticipated two days of ice cold wind and rain! Judy just layered up, which is not very comfortable when carrying a backpack. Still, she persevered and we made it “over the hump.”

Tonight we had another pilgrim dinner and a pilgrim Mass with a blessing. Just can’t get the photos to load online. Perhaps tomorrow.

Mañana!

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.