Where Ever You Are, There You Be

Sept 25, 2012

Juli: (Sevilla to Merida : 216.9 km. (This does not count extra km walked while we were lost).

 Each day, at dinner, as we toast our new town, I ask Stacy, 'where are we again?' It is a joke now. Like Forest Gump it hardly matters where we are, we just get up each morning and walk until we arrive at our chosen stopping point.

 My back was turned but I could smell him as he entered the room. The squeaking of the bed above me and Stacy's eyes peering down at me , confirmed that I was right.

The night we spent in Villafranca as we discussed our good fortune of having a room to ourselves in the albergue El Carmen, the missing F from Austria arrived and settled into the bed above mine.

Instantly the most horrible stench seemed to permeate every inch of the room. F believes that socks left unwashed will prevent blisters. But the offense to the olfactory senses is more than that...a unique 'fragrance' attained by the refusal to wash at all, compounded by days in the blistering sun.

'Read this' he said to me, handing me a book of short stories, proudly adding 'this is the level of my English!' D. H. Lawrence's 'The Rocking Horse'. "Tell me this is not true?" he demands. After reading the story I tell him the rocking horse is just to illustrate 'man's' search for 'more' without understanding the 'price' that is sometimes extracted in his quest. I suggest he read John Steinbeck's "The Pearl". But something was off (beyond the smell). My money was safe, my passport secure, but I felt a sudden need to hide my underwear that had been drying on the window sill.

The next day was a walk through vineyards as far as one could see… 30 km of vineyards. Chatting with the gals from South Africa I hear stories of sexually explicit suggestions made by F to each of the other women and I feel glad that I have been spared. We arrived in Torremejia exhausted, with shin splints and lack of energy to take another step.

We were freshly showered and resting when F arrived. I had closed our door, hoping to hide, but our noses alerted us before our eyes confirmed..."There you are!" There was nothing to do but take Tylenol for the pain in my legs and a sleeping pill to make the morning come fast.

The problem with leaving so early is that it is dark...too dark to see the yellow arrows that dot our path all too infrequently. But then we saw Alberto and Fabricio our new Italian friends, and we knew we were on the right path. We learned they started from Sevilla 3 days later than us. Perhaps they missed the scorching sun that plagued our first few days? For whatever reason, they are still full of energy and marched quickly ahead of us to Merida.

Merida, an ancient city, founded by the Romans, conquered by the Moors, and then won back by the Christians.

After crossing a bridge that had it's first significant renovation in 754AD, we straggled in to the albergue. "There you are" the Italian's laughed as we entered the dorm room lined with bunk beds.

Later, as I left the albergue to meet up with Stacy, F was sitting in a chair by the door.

"There you are" F says with a smile.

Don't tell F, but we are considering taking a bus tomorrow...

Wed, 26 Sep 2012 19:46:12
Stacy: Cáceres, Spain. Juli and I took a day off of 'trekking' today and hopped on the bus to Cáceres, checked into a lovely hotel, strolled through the cobblestone streets of the historic city center, stopped off for some wine and tapas, and are now enjoying one of my favorite Spanish traditions, the late afternoon siesta.

Though thoroughly enjoying the day off, I'm coming to really love the simplicity of peregrino life. Wake up, walk, arrive in a small village, shower, wash clothes in the sink, eat, sleep. Then wake up and do it all again. Starting to leave my phone off for days at a time. Decided being 'out of touch' is a luxury I can't get away with most of the time and it feels fabulous. Did another large purge of things from my heavy pack that I don't need. Muscles are tightening and toning. Feeling stronger inside and out. Enjoying sleeping in the albergues and have thrown out the eye patch and ear plugs I thought I would need. Actually don't mind the hum of snoring...the rustling of sleeping bags...and waking to every one of all ages strolling about in their underwear is quite funny really… and becoming strangely normal.

Though shin splints were the main reason the day off, I feel quite lucky when I see some of the bleeding, infected blisters on the feet of a few of my fellow peregrinos. Those boots I never bothered to break in have faired me well. No blisters so far. Hot pink toenail polish still fairly in tact. And it feels difficult to complain of sore legs when the cause was a 31-kilometer hike the other day through the most beautiful vineyards that went on as far as the eye could see.  Snacking on grapes right from the vine all day long. And watching the Spanish farmers climbing in and out of the large metal containers pulled behind a tractor, used for collecting grapes.

Anyway. Time to eat again. I think we're going to head back to the same restaurant we stumbled upon for lunch today. La Taparía. One of the tapas we tried was basically a giant veal meatball, breaded and deep-fried and drizzled with a rich, wine infused gravy. Might not sound good but trust me, it was heaven. And of course we washed it down with a few glasses of afternoon wine...from the region we're currently in, Ribera del Guardiana. If you haven't tried wine from this region of Spain, from the province of Extremadura, do. It's the new love of my life... And it's time to go drink some more of it.  Cheers.

On The Roman Road

Juli: I felt as though I was in Africa. The rolling hills as far as the eye could see, covered in dry, golden grass, dotted with green, sprawling trees, their branches stretched out as though reaching for any trace of water. My imagination was running away with me, or so I thought, until Janine and Fransa sat with us that night at dinner and Janine said "if a giraffe had walked out from the trees I would have been sure I was at home in South Africa rather than in Spain."

Though we walk an average of 23 km a day the terrain varies greatly in appearance. Outside Monesterio we walked past Iberico pig farms that reminded me of the English country farms, fenced with high, dry pack stone walls. 'Happy as a pig' must come from Iberican pigs by the way. They live in beautiful country side, shaded by acorn trees. Stacy and I were picking which enclosures we would be quite content to live in, even if it meant being with a few pigs.

We've also walked through stretches that seemed like the west coast of British Columbia and several kilometers of land that could quite easily have been the rolling (and late summer dry and golden) hills of southern Alberta.

The past 2 days has been mainly vineyards and olive groves. Much of the road has been an old roman road used to ferry marble and quartz to important settlements in times past. A road laid with temptation for a recovering rock-aholic, I reminded myself how foolish to fill my pack with rocks (no matter how pretty) when, to lighten my load further, I had left my pants and hair brush, in Monesterio.

Though we ache as we finally rest at night our bodies are becoming used to rising early and walking. Miraculous how quickly every muscle seems to recover.

A few people we've met have not fared so well. M from France had a blister by the 2nd day that has spread over the back of her heel making it angry, raw and infected. S from Korea thought this route was a 'tourist route' and brought heavy camera equipment to record her trip. The bottom of her feet are covered with blisters and she walks with slow, careful steps because of the pain. Both M and S have taken the bus to Merida today and hope to return walking after a few days of recovery. And F from Austria with his fantastic (true?) stories of survival has seemingly disappeared. (Though we don't walk together there is a support system between pilgrims as we cross paths at albergues, at meals and along the road).

Others we have met return home soon and will come back next year to continue walking. It is a luxury (or insanity?) to be able to take so much time away from 'regular life' and walk this path in one go.

I'm getting used to sleeping in dorm rooms, though it is nice to have a room to ourselves tonight. A clean, simple albergue in Villafranca. Great deal at 12 euros, including breakfast (likely toastada, jus and cafe con leche...toast, juice, and coffee with milk).

There are experiences I hope to repeat...a meal of Iberico ham ('died and gone to heaven' food), swimming with a turtle (mostly the turtle tried to swim as far from me as possible while I tried to swim as far from him as possible) and eating grapes freshly picked from the vine (a gift from the farmer).

... And then there was the time we were sprayed with manure.

Nesting in Spain

(For Ayden, Darius and Eli)

I first noticed them in Almaden, the kind of thing you know you are seeing, but can't quite believe is real. In El Real De La Jara they were on top of towers and pillars. The church bell tower was crowned with the biggest one I'd seen yet. Until today. Monesterio, and the ancient church in the centre of town. Nests. Huge nests.

Que es? I finally asked.

Storks. They come to Spain to nest, then fly south to Africa.

If I could think of a way to climb up I'd have a beautiful view of the stars and a comfy bed for the night.

Almaden to El Real De La Jara

Almaden to El Real De La Jara

Our walk today was from Almaden to El Real De La Jara; about 17 km through farms and park land.

The dogs I had been warned about before I left home barely looked up as we passed. Pigs being fed gave new meaning to the phrase 'hungry as a pig' and little piglets squealed when they saw us. I don't know if they thought we were carrying food or if they were asking us to save them from becoming food. Maybe they were just being pigs?

I hadn't realized before that animals have different 'voices'. Sheep calling to each other all sound different. So do the goats, the cows and the dogs. The quiet does that, you hear things you hadn't noticed before.

During the day Stacy and I walk within sight of each other but quietly, lost in our own thoughts, music, or audio books. By afternoon we are with a group of people who are becoming our friends. Austria, France, Spain, Italy, South Africa, Germany, and Canada, all under one roof.

Monique from France taught me how to lance the blisters on my feet. Agatha from Spain shared cookies. Franci and Janeen from South Africa have shared stories and laughter. Sharleen from Canada shared chocolate at a perfect moment in our second day of walking. Marco from Spain endured our 'stalking' him when we kept getting lost and became determined to keep him in sight!

Slowly I am hearing stories of why others are walking. I have to listen carefully because the words meld together when I don't really understand the language. What I have found though is that whether literally or not, each person walks alone, each for their own reason.