Chasing Memories and...

 Yellow Arrows through Spain is how I’d sum up my Camino de Santiago Third Edition. 

The physical places I remember are still there, but the Pilgrims who made them special  have all gone missing. Sadly for me, there were few human replacements to be found on this latest Pilgrimage. So...I sighed a few times and changed my game plan.

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com.es/2017/10/que-sera-sera-whatever-will-be-will-be.html

Here’s what I did: I lowered my social expectations. I immersed myself in just being in Europe. I reveled in the daily joys and Simple Life of walking the Camino. 

I found solace in washing my cloths in a sink and hoping they would dry before my next day’s mosey. I got into the morning routine of packing my thirteen articles of cloths into my dusty sweat-stained backpack. I enjoyed the brisk Speedy Gonzales walking pace I maintained for 3-6 hours a day. I relished the strong earthy coffee I drank beforehand to achieve this. I took Siestas. I became giddy when my food order was what I actually wanted. If not, I ate it just the same without complaint. I chalked up miscommunications with the Locals as another episode of “Lost in Translation.” I avoided being an “Ugly American.”

I found happiness in eating tapas in cozy cafes. I spent hours people watching in warm sunny Plazas. I never grew tired of strolling through the narrow twisty streets of Spanish cities, towns and villages. I marveled at the Spanish people’s high regard for the concept of Family. 

I visited the Local’s bars where men pitched playing cards with a manly “Twack!” The elderly women card games were docile in comparison. They seemed more content to talk about their families. 

I loved sleeping in hotels that were older than the US. In León, an over 400 year old accommodation had its original staircase. It’s shiny wooden steps were beveled from being trod upon by four centuries worth of ascents and descents. I laughed every time I used them. 

To sum it up, it’s way cool to be in Europe.

As far as the Camino de Santiago goes, I’ll say this. The more the merrier might not apply to Pilgrimages. There’s less Random Acts of Kindness. The innocence and intimacy seem to be a thing of the past with the added numbers. At times, I got lost in the sauce of the mass of Pilgrim Humanity. Then again, I might be more of an introvert then ever before. Who knows? 

There were  42,188 “Graduates” in the month of September alone. 2017 has already set a new yearly record with a few months left and thousands still en route. 

For me, It’s just wasn’t the same. 

Do I have any regrets? None whatsoever. (Except not encountering a potential First Lady)

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/11/my-2020-presidential-campaign-begins.html

I met a few nice people. Got plenty of exercise. Ate lots of three course meals complete with a bottle of Vino Tinto all for $12! I slept in clean rooms with indoor plumbing for less than what a fill-up of gas for Barley the Van would cost. (Barley doesn’t sport indoor plumbing either). I relaxed a lot. I gained back the weight I lost (and then some) from my Alps endeavor. If I weren’t Camino-ing here, I’d be walking somewhere else in Europe. It’s all good. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com.es/2017/10/im-in-good.html

Next European stop for this journey will be Portugal. Those gregarious Aussie women told me to sample the Portuguese Tarts when I’m there. Sounds like fun to me! Oh Wait! Maybe they were talking about the pastries. 

I’m a short day’s walk to the End of the World.

See you next on the Other Side,

Cheers!

Jeff

The Sarria Syndrome...

What’s it all about and why? 

There’s a goal for the 278,000 Pilgrims who walked/biked the Camino in 2016. They were all matriculating through Spain in order to graduate with a Compostela Certificate. (I call it earning your Diploma). 

The Certificate is a classy looking piece of beige paper with lots of Latin words printed on it. There’s a space reserved for your name (in Latin) once you prove you have the  required kilometers/mileage distance for Camino-Ing to Santiago de Compostela, Spain. 

The minimum distance for walking is 100 Kilometers (62 Miles). The small city of Sarria is (according to my map guide) 118 K away from Santiago’s Cathedral. Eureka! Pilgrims can earn a Diploma with less than a week’s worth of sweat labor by starting there.  And that’s  just what 70,000 late coming Pilgrims did in 2016. Thus, I call it the Sarria Syndrome. An already crowded Camino gets more so. 

To prove One walked the walk, a Pilgrim’s Credentials are eventually presented in Santiago. The Credentials are a Passport looking multi-folded piece of paper which  get stamped as you amble through the Spanish Countryside. Churches, Visitor Centers, Alburgues, Hotels and Bars all have rubber stamps. I never tire of seeing adults play Treasure Hunt to get a “Thump!” stamp. 

I’m proud to say my 2006 and 2013 Credentials had the highest recorded number of Bar Stamps ever presented to the Santiago Office. When the Official Clerk asked me the reason for my Camino. I said “Spiritual!” without blinking.  Drinking beer or wine has always been an enlightening experience for me. 

In 2013, I had to walk 28, 10, 29 and 6 Miles/day in order to find an accommodation fitting the high standards of a Jewish Prince who sleeps in a Van for many months at a time. In other words, I wanted a bed and my own bathroom. I wasn’t seeking the Ritz Carlton. I had to go these distances in 2013, all the other hotels were booked with Sarria starting Pilgrims. 

A few days ago, I went to Saint Booking.com to see if I could piece together an entryway to Santiago from Sarria. For two hours, I tried many combinations of towns and distances. Nothing obvious or practical was lining up. Apparently the hotels are booked up once again. 

So...from Sarria, I’ll partake in the Camino de Choo-Choo to Santiago. From that BUSY city, I’ll walk to the End of the World (Fisterra) to stare at the Atlantic Ocean. This stretch has always been a favorite of mine. I’m sure it will be once again.

BTW, you may now address me as Don Godefridum Sambur. That’s my Latin name written on two Certificates sitting in a duffle bag in Boulder, Colorado.

Cheers from Triacastela, Spain

Godefridum 

Aussies Saved my Camino...

Again.

In 2013, my second Camino began at a koala’s pace as far as the social scene went. I was Happy Houring and eating alone too often.

Fortunately for me I performed a Waltzing Matilda into two Aussie couples on a World Wide Walk-About. 

Melanie, Chris, Daniele and Martin allowed me to hang within their kangaroo pouches. They were fun, funny, interesting and told great yarns about the exotic places they’ve been. They didn’t seem to mind the fact I was the same age as their parents. These youngsters seemed to get a kick out of me for-how do I say this. Uniqueness? 

Through them I met other Pilgrims for many multi-national, multi-generational Happy Hours. Camino 2013 turned out to be swell. I owe it to them.

Camino 2017, as I’ve mentioned before has been different. Nationalism and technology is the New Order of the day. There’s an over abundance of Americans here, much to the chagrin of the Europeans. I don’t  blame the Continental Locals for these feelings. The current invasion has been on a D-Day scale minus the bullets and bombs. Once again I found myself eating and drinking alone.

That changed on the outskirts of Burgos. On a Sunday morning I bolted from the city high on caffeine but low on calories. I was famished when I pulled into a suburban cafe. I ordered the old standby Tortilla de Patatas. (Egg and potato omelette) with tomatoes on crusty white bread. The cafe owners were sort of in hysterics over my pantomime of what I wanted to eat. Out of the kitchen came a Nautilus class submarine sized sandwich of Tortilla de Patatas. That’s Big. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed two women glancing at me in a stranger than normal way. Their look said it all. How the heck can a little man like him eat all that? They were right. I couldn’t. This being the Camino, I offered them half. They politely declined. With their few words I  detected the unmistakable twang of Fair Dinkum Aussies. This is how I met Toni and Catherine. 

Our hemispheres cross every few days. Either I or they would perform the International Sign of please take-a-seat and join me/us. Once comfortable the first question is, “what are you drinking?” Then they will regale me with their Camino tales.

Long distance trekking is foreign to them. Toni confessed, “I don’t even like to walk!” Yet, they are typical Aussie tough despite the blisters, sore muscles and achy joints. They make light of their plight. They exemplify the Aussie “She’ll be Right!” Attitude. 

Yesterday, Catherine told a story of a plugged up drain in an Alburgue’s communal shower. She went on to elaborate about her virtual swim in other Pilgrims effluent. 

She summed up the funky experience this way, “It was shocking!” Classic Aussie understatement. I howled. They both make me laugh. This is something that’s gone missing from Camino III. More Pilgrims equates to less human interaction. Sad but seemingly true. 

If you’ve read this far, you might think I’m having a miserable time here. Not at all. This Camino might not be my favorite but this has been the most enjoyable European journey I’ve ever taken.  Chasing yellow arrows through the Iberian landscape has provided me with a perfect excuse to be in Spain once again. Which if you haven’t figured it out is a superb place to be. 

Plus, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting two Awesome Aussies who bring a smile to my face.

Thanks Catherine and Toni for making this Camino like Old Times even for brief moments.

Next post will be about the upcoming Sarria Syndrome portion of this Pilgrimage. 

Until then, Buen Camino,

Jeff

“I’m in a good

Place,” is an often used line one would hear on an Oprah show. More than likely the reference would be in the spiritual sense of place rather than the physical one. 

On this Camino de Santiago Third Edition, I’m nailing this cliche on both levels. I’ve accepted the concept that “Santiago Provides.” 

When I leave my hotel in the early morning, I’m running on an empty stomach. That is unless one counts three cappuccinos as a source of calories. I’ve come to believe I’ll find something edible along the Way.  Whenever I’m running out of water, there’s a spigot oozing cool liquid in a rest area. If I go off-course, there’s someone verbally pushing me  in the right direction. It’s sort of a carefree trip. 

The one thing Santiago doesn’t provide is shelter for a Wandering Wondering Jewish Prince. For that, I count on Saint Booking.com.

Sure, it’s a somewhat disjointed Camino crowd. I’ve only learned a few names.  Once in awhile a fellow Pilgrim will offer me a seat at a table. A few generous folks have bought a round of drinks. Most of my time is spent solo. Nationalism and technology seems to be the Rule of the Road. Yanks gravitate towards fellow countrymen. Each town boasts a version of the “Hotel California,” where the residents are predominantly Americans. Booking.com seems to place me where the Europeans Pilgrims reside. I’m OK with that. They seem to enjoy this outsider’s smile and off-the-cuff manner. Like I’ve mentioned previously, Camino 2017  is definitely different. 

Ahh, but the weather has been wonderful, the food is fresh, tasty and plentiful. (The cost is less than a visit to a Macdonald’s). The beer is served up in icy mugs accompanied by a bowl of oily olives. (Gratis). It’s good to be in Spain right here, right now. 

Soon, I’ll be departing from the Meseta. Leaving the Land of Flat won’t bring a tear to my eye. I’m never sentimental about escaping from the clods of dirt, endless fields of stubble and the vast distances between quaint Spanish villages. A week-plus of walking here is plenty for this Lover of Altitude. Manana, I’ll be in the Bright Lights-Big City of León. Soon thereafter, I’ll be taking my first break after 22 days of Westerly Wandering. I’m looking forward to it. 

From Marsilla de las Mulas, (and about half way to Finesterre.)

Salud,

Jeff

"Que Sera Sera."

"Whatever will be will be" was the song a Hornillos Del Camino garage band played to a sparse audience of Pilgrims in a local bar last Friday night. It was  only 7:30pm. Apparently, on this very Senior Citizen version of Camino 2017, it was Lights-Out-Nighty-Night Time. 

As I've mentioned more than once, it's an older crowd here. A majority are recently retired folks who prepared themselves financially for the coming years. For these oldsters, the Camino is their step (many steps) into retirement. It's a Bucket List fulfillment. 

From what I'm noticing a goodly number might not have prepared themselves physically for the unrelenting monotony of walking Bigly distances on a daily basis. There's many who are overweight. It all adds up to a whooped, wounded mob. 

So how does this translate to me? 

Gone are the multi-cultural and multi-national Happy Hours. My H/D (Hugs/Day) average is a sluggish .153. The feel good intimacy of the past Camino's are now a sigh-full memory. Multitudes of walkers are now plugged into headphones and ear buds. Others are caressing their I-Phones as they text or talk their way through the Spanish countryside. This Camino features more Geritol drinkers than beer or wine quaffers. There's a higher percentage of folks attending Mass. 

In other words, it's a totally different Camino than my first two. 

So back to Doris Day's cheesy song and it's epiphany affect on me. While the band was strumming I thought to myself, "Self! You're in Spain which is a part of Europe. It's cool to be in Europe! You are eating good food and getting lots of exercise. You are drinking quality coffee in the morning and easy sipping lagers in the evening. You are sleeping in hotels fit for a Jewish Prince at less than Motel 6/Meth Lab prices. The weather has been mild and gentle. If I weren't walking here, I'd be walking somewhere else. I'll see this through to Finisterre and gaze at the surging Atlantic Ocean once again. It'll all work out and whatever will be will be. 

Besides, everyday I'm in Europe is one less day of living in the Dark Ages of America's current four year plight. I'm still reading the daily Tweets of President Lying Scumbag. Unfortunately, the US now seems foreign to me. 

From my Spanish viewpoint I'm hoping for another Saint Santiago intervention. The Miracle of Impeachment. 

Heck! If that were to happen, I'd even attend Mass. 

Cheers from Spain,

Jeff the Pilgrim

Last photo: another possible fix-er-upper I might possibly buy.

I don't remember ...

Much...

from my previous two Camino de Santiago's. It might be due to my advanced age. Or maybe it's a result of my love of Imperial IPAs (9% Alcohol by Volume) murdering my helpless brain cells. 

However, in reality I don't believe either excuse is true. 

I think the majority of the Camino is a monotonous landscape of tawny browns and hazy greens. This time of the year, I'm seeing a lot of field stubble. Every now and then, (rarely) we get to walk past tree farms.  There are times we negotiate our way through cities complete with noise, traffic, trash, used car dealerships, transients and junkyards. Not the stuff of pretty picture postcards. I'll say it bluntly. Many of the kilometers of the Camino are not awe inspiring or memorable. 

Now I'm beginning the famous/infamous Meseta section.  In my guidebook, “Walking 

the Camino de Santiago” by Davies and Cole, 30 pages of the 166-page book are

dedicated to this segment. An astonishing 143 miles of the 500 miles of the Camino 

takes place in this Kansas look-alike territory. The Meseta has a nasty reputation with

 descriptors such as endless flatness, desolate, strange, monotonous, barren, and the

 stretch most likely to be bypassed by pilgrims. My favorite thought on the Meseta is 

of walking through hell and escaping toward heaven when this incredible horizontal 

portion finally surrenders. I can honestly say I'm not grinning at the thought of taking 

It on once again. 

That being said, believe it or not, I'll take it slower this time. The distances between real towns are vast. I'm not up for the big 20-plus mile days like on my previous two transits. I'll spread my Euros around in tiny Bergs kept from going ghost by the infusion of Pilgrim cash. (I'm now in Hornillos Del Camino-population 56.) I'll take it easy.

So what do I remember from Camino I and II?

 I get deja vu's and memory snippets from the towns. Wasn't that the bar we had a huge multi-national Happy Hour crowd in? Didn't I meet so and so in this Plaza? Wasn't this the coffee shop where I made the elderly owner howl with my goofy pantomimes? Wasn't this the street corner where an attractive Spanish woman gave me a shy grin? 

 This is what I remember from my Camino's. It's about the people. It's  about smiling at strangers. It's  about being extra nice because it's the right thing to do. The Camino is about feel-good human interactions. That's why I'm walking my third Camino. It's not about the scenery. 

From the start of the Meseta,

(Don't expect beautiful photos!)

Salud,

Jeff

Who is this Apostle Saint James...

and why this Pilgrimage?

    The saga of James is a mixture of fact and fable with a large scoop of J.R Tolkien-like characters thrown into the blend.    

   Apostle James was last seen alive in Jerusalem, trying to convert the locals to a new religion. King Herod didn’t take kindly to this and had the young man’s head removed from the big part. (Present-day Mormon missionaries are lucky that this practice is now frowned upon.)  A few of James’ followers deposited the body and unattached head into a rudderless boat. James’ groupies hopped into the boat and went along for the ride. Somehow they arrive in Galicia in what is now western Spain. James’ flock spread out in search of a decent burial site for their former mentor. Now this is where the story gets really weird.

    They meet up with the very-pagan Queen Lupa. They plead their case and request a nice piece of property with perhaps a pleasant cathedral over it. She proceeds to set them up for failure against mean kings, unmanageable oxen and the inevitable fire-belching dragon. Of course our Hobbit-like heroes overcome all of these obstacles, and create many Christian converts along the way. Finally, the Apostle James gets his plot of dirt with a humble mausoleum above it.

    After all of this fussing, the grave whereabouts went missing for 800 years, until the hermit Pelayo had a “divine revelation” complete with “angels singing” and of course, “altar lights.” The remains were quickly established to be that of the Apostle Santiago (Saint James in Spanish). Thus one of the world’s first tourist attractions came into existence.

     Many famous people have trod the Camino since its inception in the 1100’s. Anthony Quinn walked the walk in 1999 while filming a TV show about the pilgrimage. I guess he felt compelled to do it; after all, he did play a Russian pope in “The Shoes of the Fisherman.”

    In 1994, Shirley MacLaine slept in hostels and spoke to fellow pilgrims. She went on to write a book named, “The Way, a Spiritual Journey.” I often wondered, with her belief in reincarnation, which Shirley MacLaine wrote the book.

    One of my favorite old-timey pilgrims was Aymeric Picaud, a French monk and curmudgeon who wrote the first travel guide of the Camino around 1140. It was called the Codex Calixtus. Mr. Picaud was a rather opinionated writer who didn’t hold back from calling a spade a spade. He lambasted most of the people he met along the way. He didn’t like the Basques at all, though for the most part, I’d consider him to be an equal opportunity racist. In my mind’s eye, I pictured him to be an Andy Rooney look-alike.

There's more myths and legends surrounding the Camino. 

   

    There’s a fable in Santo Domingo de la Calzada concerning German pilgrims, jilted lovers, vengeful magistrates and the usual intervention of good ol’ Santiago to save the day. Oh, yeah, there’s a footnote of two roasted chickens coming back to life to crow again. In other words, your typical miracle.

   Now in honor of those pollos, a few well-groomed barnyard animals hang out in a holy coop at the local cathedral. At the church, I was allowed access to gaze up at those blessed birds. (After making a 3€ "donation"). Another legend says, if you score a "Cock-a-Doodle-do" from the poultry; your Camino will be blessed with Good Vibes. I craned my head up to hear. Nada! But then again, I'm sort of deaf. 

That night I ate chicken for dinner.

Now you are sort of all caught up. 

From Villa Franca-Montes de Oca,

Salud,

Jeff