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A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR
It's come to my attention that a few people may have had trouble accessing updated posts and I just wanted to say sorry for that unforeseen issue. I chose this app because it lets me write offline when I am out of wifi range, which is often, and because it is easier for me to use...but I didn't realize it would not necessarily be easier for others to access. Apologies for any inconvenience, and thank you for bearing with and coming back to read more!
CAMINO BY THE NUMBERS
I've had some inquiries as to how far I've gone so far, and it's funny...I didn't really ever think about that until yesterday. All I think about is the day before me: where I'd like to get to, how far that is, and what potential stops are in between to both mark mileage and break up the walk with rests. I hadn't thought about totals before, but upon request,it seems that I've walked about 287 km so far. Now, how far that is from
the end seems to be in some dispute...there are road markers that count off mileage that would have us around 518 km left to go, but our guidebook -- John Brierly's Camino de Santiago book is sort of a universal Bible that lists a program of daily routes and mileages, so we tend to all hot the same places en masse -- suggests it's some 25K more than that... Not sure who is counting how. The main thing is, we are a big chunk of the way there, and it definitely feels like progress.
And now, back to our story.....
FIESTA IN CHICKEN TOWN
Morning in Najera dawned crisp, cold and sunny, and I bustled out the door into frosty but refreshing air. Once an old lady on her balcony pointed out the Way -- markers in Najera were noticeably less conspicuous -- I bustled up a big hill out of town and into flat open Rioja terrain spreading far and wide. I noticed that the snow capped mountain we'd seen in yesterday's stunning panorama was now far to my left and behind me a bit, and it was interesting to see how the Camino wended around such a landmark.
After our big 30K walk the day before, many of us were feeling pretty strong and confident, and I set out musing that I might go past the designated destination of Santo Domingo to the next town, Granon, adding 6K to my 20-odd kilometre mileage. However, after a stop in the tiny, Camino-sustained village of Azofra for an orange juice, I started feeling a bit wimpy. As the sun eventually warmed things up enough for me peel off a layer and lose the gloves, I found my three hour burst of walking on Sunday was indeed yesterday's news. Despite a strong start, I found myself needing to rest every 90 minutes. Around 11:40 the path went by a newly developed golf club (? These are not your grandma's pilgrim milestones!) and stopped to have a sandwich, which I never do. Eventually I dragged myself up and continued through some truly stunning farmland -- see the photos -- but the heat was really sapping my strength, and yesterday's wall was catching up to me. Also, there were some REALLY annoying bicycle teams hurtling past at regular intervals on the country road, and they got my back up.
By the time I got to Santo Domingo de la Calzada, all thoughts of pushing further were out of mind. I literally staggered into the first albergue I saw -- a converted monastery run by Cistercian nuns -- and was happy to get a bed. It turned out it wasn't the best place I might have stayed, but it was decent, and the medieval stone walls, rustic wool bed blankets and humble setting certainly added an authentic air to the pilgrimage, so I figured it was okay. Even the fact that for some reason there were cannons being fired at regular intervals, making me cranky in addition to hot and tired, could persuade me to go another step.
iDRAMA!!!!
I slept for about an hour upon arrival and awoke around 3:30, and reached for my iPad to see if there was working WiFi. I never found out...because my iPad WAS NOT THERE. There is only one pocket I ever it it into in my knapsack, and it was missing. A sick panicky feeling came over me as I scrabbled among my things, but at the same time an interesting undercurrent appeared in my thoughts as well: even as I freaked at the thought of having to replace the hardware, another part of me was thinking, well, everything on it just got backed up in Najera. It's a pricey replacement, but it IS just a thing. Clearly the Camino (or perhaps the effect of having to haul around too much crap day after day) was influencing my materialism at least a little.
Still, life would be easier if I had it. So I ran down to the check in, but the nun on duty had no phone and couldn't help me. I decided to run down the street to the municipally run albergue, and luckily the volunteer at the desk was a native English speaker. He called my last albergue in Najera, and sure enough the thing was there, where I had somehow stupidly left it. Whew.
Okay, so now to get back there. The helpful guy said I could take a bus, but it was a fiesta today (ah, the cannons!) and so there wouldn't likely be any at this point. He tried to call a taxi for me, but then remembered the phones are blocked for limited outgoing calls. Fine, where do I catch one? He suggested that there would be some near the bus terminal and directed my way through the cobblestone streets.
I ran and found the downtown stop, but realized I don't know which cars are cabs... They aren't marked like ours. New plan: I decided to go to the nearest parador -- former palaces and aristocratic buildings converted into top notch elite hotels. There are two in Santo Domingo, and I reckoned at least one would be used to accommodating English speakers' requests and could help summon a ride.
I set off down the main boulevard not really sure WHERE the paradors were, but guessing for no particular reason that one might be THAT way. As I jogged by a cafe, a woman called, "Marichka!" It was Elke, a German woman Thomas had met on the walk yesterday, and who had joined our confraternal acquaintance. I told her what was up, and she got a waiter to call me a cab that whisked me to Najera and back for only 23 Euros, and the safe retrieval of my iPad. Even in my relief, it was not lost on me that our drive there and back took only 30 minutes by highway...about five and a half hours shorter than it had taken me to walk earlier that day. I consoled myself with the fact that my scenery as a pedestrian was prettier.
Back in Santo Domingo I showered and changed and walked about town. I bumped into Melissa, also staying at the ascetic albergue (although she did point out that it sported a beer vending machine...hmm!) and she mentioned that a lot of people were planning to go to the Pilgrim's Mass at 8:30. As we were discussing it, someone above us said, "I know those voices." It was not God, but Brian, emerging like Juliet on the iron balcony of the parador next to us. (Ohhh, so THAT's where it was!) Like me, he had not had the great day's walk we'd all expected, and so when Thomas mentioned the hotel's great breakfast buffet he decided they were going to forget the rustic albergue and small hotel thing and live large for a night. Nice!
FOWLING THINGS UP
I walked around a bit taking in the pretty medieval town before dinner. Santo Domingo is a big pilgrim town; the namesake helped establish much of the infrastructure of the path, and there is an interpretive centre and the headquarters of the Brotherhood that oversaw the keeping of the way. The story of Santo Domingo is also part of Camino legend. You can look it up, but basically the gist is, a guy falsely accused of a crime is sentenced and hanged. A year later the family returning from pilgrimage sees that the guy is still hanging there but alive, and hurries to ask the local authority to cut their son down. The honcho, who is at dinner, scoffs at the story and says, "That boy is no more alive than the chicken on this plate." At which point the chicken jumps up alive and well and runs around. It's a miracle!
Because of this story, Santo Domingo has a serious chicken fetish. Not the coolest mascot maybe, but folks there don't care and are proud of their story. I passed a chocolatier who has chicken cookies and chocolates galore, all in the shape of chickens...there are chicken motifs in the stonemasonry...and, most memorably, there are chickens kept in the cathedral, a centuries-old tradition. Crazy but true! I was so enamored by this entertaining anomaly that I decided those chickens could use a Duck in their company...so I wedged Katya's rock in a crack in the facade of the church.
GETTIN' RELIGION
Just as I was about to find a pilgrim menu at a restaurant, Thomas came strolling out of the parador in Basque scarf and with cigar in hand, looking very relaxed. (One night in parador will do that, I guess!). He persuaded me to wait to have dinner with him and Brian, so we went to kill time in the square where the fiesta was fully underway with all kinds of music and entertainment. I found myself really glad I hadn't pushed to Granon after all...I would have missed so much! After a drink and a snack of olives (true to my challenge, I ate some!), we got Brian and the three of us went to the Pilgrim's Mass. (Anyone who knows me will be amused to note that I have had more church in the last two weeks than I have in the last year. ) It was very soothing, and afterwards we were joined by Elke at an upscale restaurant next to the cathedral. I enjoyed my meal, and the wine that Thomas is very generous and enthusiastic about sharing, but had to dash after just two appetizers because of the 10 pm curfew at the albergue. You just don't want to mess with Catholic nuns about a thing like that.
More to come.Hope you enjoy the updated photos to go with this entry!
- comments
Tamara Reminds me of the chickens on the ferry in PEI. Don't remember them being cute. Fragrant, but not cute!
Jan Hope the chicken like the "duck"!