Yesterday, I completed my pilgramage to Santiago de Compostela. Running into the city con una sonrisa grandote, I finally walked my last kilometer and stood before the cathedral at the end of the long, long road. I decided to enter Santiago alone, ending my journey just as I started it. I walked down the hill from El Monte de Gozo (the Mountain of Joy) to see Santiago glimmering in the distance, golden with the evening sun and with the ocean breeze on my skin. I nearly cried for joy to see my final destination. I chose to finish the trip with the setting sun. The end of the day, the end of a journey.
But, the start of something new.
Today, after receiving my official Compostela (certificate of completion) from the Catholic Church (thank you, Pope!), I wandered the city. Ever a pilgrim, it felt strange not to spend my time walking, so I explored up and down the streets. I also indulged in a pair of new jeans and a fresh shirt. It is nice to feel a little bit pretty, after a month of being gross, and I fully plan to ditch all of my nonessential pilgrim clothes. Then, on to the Pilgrims Mass and the giant swinging incense ball. I did all of the traditional end-of-Camino things (visited the cathedral, looked at the statues, bought a few kitschy souveneirs). Tonight is fiesta and fireworks! Then, "home again, home again, jiggity jigg."
map of el camino frances
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
the rat race and el campo verde
Broke the 100 km mark yesterday and am gradually nearing Santiago. It was such a relief to pass from the dry, endless meseta into the rolling hills, verdent fields and old mossy stone walls of Galicia. For the first time in weeks, I pulled out my sweatshirt. Last night I watched a herd of cows pass down the street of my albergue and Ive really been enjoying the walk past beautiful gardens full of tomatoes, broccoli, lettace and peas. Ive seen a change in, not only the physical landscape, but the culinary environment, as well. Pulpo (octopus!), empanadas de atun, fish, seafood, fresh cheese, milk, beef. Wow. Yesterday I met a really fantastic dairy farmer with the cutest little herding dog that Ive ever seen, named Res. He is about 12 inches tall, full of spunk and with very intelligent eyes. Quite impressive to watch this tiny puppy herding huge cows down the street. I threatened to throw him in my mochilla and bring him with me to Santiago...didnt go that far, but Res did come snuggle in my tent last night.
Although there has been a welcome change in landscape in the last few days, there are other changes that I have enjoyed less. For many people, the walk to Santiago is for the purpose of gaining a "Compostela" certificate, given by the Catholic church as a pardon of sins. The Composetala is awarded to anyone who completes the last 100 km of El Camino. Lots of people start the walk at the 100 point mark, in order to get the Compostela, and the trail has been packed. With such a short term experience, comes a different mentality and changed social climate on El Camino. Many people wake up at 3 or 4 am to rush to the next albergue to ensure themselves a bed. Rather than greeting others with a "hola, buen camino" people tend to race past others. There are now massive groups of "tourist pilgrams" who take a bus from city to city for a stamp or walk en mass through the countryside. For me, it has been frustrating to see this change--from an experience in which the journey is enjoyed and the landscape savored to a race to the finish line. The albergues have been filling up quickly and peregrinos are put out to sleep in the streets or under a tree. It is easy to feel exasperated that, after three weeks of such a joyful experience, there is now a competative, stressful Camino climate.
But, I have decided that although the Camino around me has changed, I will not be affected by it. I will continue to walk in search of peace, enjoying the moment and treating others with kindness. If I have to sleep outside, if I arrive last at the albergue, so be it. And, I have found that I am always provided for.....One Galician family opened their home and offered space to as many peregrinos as possible. An albergue put out a tent to house travelers. I am determined to have faith in the kindness of others and to be a positive contribution to the Camino.
Although there has been a welcome change in landscape in the last few days, there are other changes that I have enjoyed less. For many people, the walk to Santiago is for the purpose of gaining a "Compostela" certificate, given by the Catholic church as a pardon of sins. The Composetala is awarded to anyone who completes the last 100 km of El Camino. Lots of people start the walk at the 100 point mark, in order to get the Compostela, and the trail has been packed. With such a short term experience, comes a different mentality and changed social climate on El Camino. Many people wake up at 3 or 4 am to rush to the next albergue to ensure themselves a bed. Rather than greeting others with a "hola, buen camino" people tend to race past others. There are now massive groups of "tourist pilgrams" who take a bus from city to city for a stamp or walk en mass through the countryside. For me, it has been frustrating to see this change--from an experience in which the journey is enjoyed and the landscape savored to a race to the finish line. The albergues have been filling up quickly and peregrinos are put out to sleep in the streets or under a tree. It is easy to feel exasperated that, after three weeks of such a joyful experience, there is now a competative, stressful Camino climate.
But, I have decided that although the Camino around me has changed, I will not be affected by it. I will continue to walk in search of peace, enjoying the moment and treating others with kindness. If I have to sleep outside, if I arrive last at the albergue, so be it. And, I have found that I am always provided for.....One Galician family opened their home and offered space to as many peregrinos as possible. An albergue put out a tent to house travelers. I am determined to have faith in the kindness of others and to be a positive contribution to the Camino.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Yo soy espanol, espanol, espanol....
Viva la Espana! You can imagine the excitement and craziness here as Spain continued further and further through the World Cup bracket. Soccer is not just a sport in Spain, it is a religion. Futbol is one of the few things uniting a country that is incredibly regional (several different languages, strong regional cultural pride). I knew that if they made the finals, I had to celebrate in a major city, not a tiny village. Pushing really hard (about 70 km in 2 days), I arrived in Leon on the morning of the 11th. Already the city was a sea of yellow and red!
To watch the game, I went to a plaza in the city where el partido was being projected onto a large screen. Hundreds of fans crowded around, wrapped in Spanish flags, blowing on horns and banging on drums. Abuelos, children, jovenes, all types of people--booing in unison, cheering together, hoping for a monumental Spanish World Cup win. When finally la Roja scored a goal, a group of fans took off running down the street, waving banderas and hooting like banchees. I, of course, had to follow them. Running pilgram-style (more like a hobble, thanks to my blisters), I followed the crowd through the streets of Leon to the central plaza, where everyone jumped into the fountain. Splashing, yelling, high-fiving, throwing firework, banging drums, drinking vino. It was nearly a riot and I couldn´t help but marvel at the exuberance of this celebration (which would probably have been broken up by the police in the US). The entire plaza filled with fans and there were people climbing buildings, standing on top of bus stops and dancing in the streets. There were giant flags flying, a huge water fight broke out, men dressed like matadors danced together, old ladies hugged, firecrackers exploded. Incredible. The fiesta continued all night, but I finally returned to my hotel to fall back into bed at about 1 am.
One more note about the World Cup. In the US, you may or may not have heard about el pulpo (the octopus), but it Spain it was the hot topic. Apparently a women in Spain somewhere has a pet octopus. Before each Copa Mundial game, she showed the pulpo the flags of the two teams playing and gave the pulpo the chance to chose one. The pulpo has an 80 percent accuracy rate in chosing the winning team. Before the final of the World Cup, I heard Spaniards say things like "El equipo nuestro tiene que ganar. El pulpo lo dijo." ("Our team has to win. The octopus said so.") What a ridiculous and amazing superstition....
To watch the game, I went to a plaza in the city where el partido was being projected onto a large screen. Hundreds of fans crowded around, wrapped in Spanish flags, blowing on horns and banging on drums. Abuelos, children, jovenes, all types of people--booing in unison, cheering together, hoping for a monumental Spanish World Cup win. When finally la Roja scored a goal, a group of fans took off running down the street, waving banderas and hooting like banchees. I, of course, had to follow them. Running pilgram-style (more like a hobble, thanks to my blisters), I followed the crowd through the streets of Leon to the central plaza, where everyone jumped into the fountain. Splashing, yelling, high-fiving, throwing firework, banging drums, drinking vino. It was nearly a riot and I couldn´t help but marvel at the exuberance of this celebration (which would probably have been broken up by the police in the US). The entire plaza filled with fans and there were people climbing buildings, standing on top of bus stops and dancing in the streets. There were giant flags flying, a huge water fight broke out, men dressed like matadors danced together, old ladies hugged, firecrackers exploded. Incredible. The fiesta continued all night, but I finally returned to my hotel to fall back into bed at about 1 am.
One more note about the World Cup. In the US, you may or may not have heard about el pulpo (the octopus), but it Spain it was the hot topic. Apparently a women in Spain somewhere has a pet octopus. Before each Copa Mundial game, she showed the pulpo the flags of the two teams playing and gave the pulpo the chance to chose one. The pulpo has an 80 percent accuracy rate in chosing the winning team. Before the final of the World Cup, I heard Spaniards say things like "El equipo nuestro tiene que ganar. El pulpo lo dijo." ("Our team has to win. The octopus said so.") What a ridiculous and amazing superstition....
Thursday, July 8, 2010
La Rioja, Burgos
A few highlights from the last week:
-The game that qualified Spain for the World Cup final! Spain has not gone to the final in a long time (maybe ever) and there is a growing excitement here. When they qualified, there was muchas fiestas, lots of horn honking and yelling.
-Exploring the cliffs and caves near Tosantos. There were millions of rock formations of quartz chrystal shining in the sun. We climbed through patches of wild oregano and among thistles, searching for treasure.
-Having my needs met in the most unexpected ways. A hippie peregrino named Marcelino, who gave me a walking stick. Food offered by strangers, when I need it. Singing nuns at the albergue. Encouragement from a parting friend. A well timed fountain in the desert heat.
-Discovering the joy of the parrocial albergue. Most people stay in the municipal albergue, run by the city and packed with lots of people. You pay 5 euros, get a bunk bed and a kitchen for making pasta (if you are lucky). But, the parrocials are lovely. They are run by volunteers and everyone works together to make dinner and clean up. After dinner, nighttime prayers and guitar playing before off to bed. The people are delightful and all have walked the Camino before, so they have tons of wisdom to share. These albergues are donativos, which means that you pay as you can and participate in the community life.
-Rain, a final break in the heat
-Learning how to best pop and clean blisters. Gross, yes, but necessary on the Camino.
-Wild poppies, everywhere!
-Vineyards and great (cheap) Spanish wine
-The game that qualified Spain for the World Cup final! Spain has not gone to the final in a long time (maybe ever) and there is a growing excitement here. When they qualified, there was muchas fiestas, lots of horn honking and yelling.
-Exploring the cliffs and caves near Tosantos. There were millions of rock formations of quartz chrystal shining in the sun. We climbed through patches of wild oregano and among thistles, searching for treasure.
-Having my needs met in the most unexpected ways. A hippie peregrino named Marcelino, who gave me a walking stick. Food offered by strangers, when I need it. Singing nuns at the albergue. Encouragement from a parting friend. A well timed fountain in the desert heat.
-Discovering the joy of the parrocial albergue. Most people stay in the municipal albergue, run by the city and packed with lots of people. You pay 5 euros, get a bunk bed and a kitchen for making pasta (if you are lucky). But, the parrocials are lovely. They are run by volunteers and everyone works together to make dinner and clean up. After dinner, nighttime prayers and guitar playing before off to bed. The people are delightful and all have walked the Camino before, so they have tons of wisdom to share. These albergues are donativos, which means that you pay as you can and participate in the community life.
-Rain, a final break in the heat
-Learning how to best pop and clean blisters. Gross, yes, but necessary on the Camino.
-Wild poppies, everywhere!
-Vineyards and great (cheap) Spanish wine
pulling a Forrest Gump
A few days ago, I felt a very strange motivation and just wanted to keep walking and walking. I was curious how much I could push myself and felt the need to prove myself to myself, that I have the willpower and ability to be stretched. I kept thinking "only 10 km more" and wondering how much I could walk in one day?
Turns out the answer is 46 kilometers.
Needless to say, I slept well that night.
Turns out the answer is 46 kilometers.
Needless to say, I slept well that night.
estrellas, la meseta and apologies
hello to all my friends and family who have been following this blog. Until today, I did not think that many people were actually reading my ramblings....but, I do need to apologize for the lack of postings and contact in the last week. In this part of Spain, internet cafes have been hard to come by, especially since I have been staying in small pueblos and focusing on my daily 8 hours of walking. I am truly sorry for causing worry or concern and want to reassure you that I am healthy, in good spirits (considering the wear and tear of El Camino) and continuing upon my route as expected. For the remainer of my trip I will make a serious effort to check in every few days, so as not to cause worry, but can´t promise that I will be able to find a connect to the web every day.
"Compostela" means countryside of stars. Last night I had the opportunity to walk under the stars, through the Spanish meseta, enjoying the night. The stars were brighter that I have ever seen and the Milky Way was clearly visible. The meseta (desert) is a flat, dry stretch of land that is killer to walk during the daytime, especially due to the intense heat. I have finally learned the reason for the Spanish afternoon siesta--it is nearly impossible to accomplish anything between 11 am and 5 pm due to the soaring temperature. So, to was a gift to gain some kilometers at night, with a group of friends and a head lamp. Passing through towns at 2 am, we caused a chorus of barking dogs along the way, but were able to enjoy the night wind blowing off the meseta.
"Compostela" means countryside of stars. Last night I had the opportunity to walk under the stars, through the Spanish meseta, enjoying the night. The stars were brighter that I have ever seen and the Milky Way was clearly visible. The meseta (desert) is a flat, dry stretch of land that is killer to walk during the daytime, especially due to the intense heat. I have finally learned the reason for the Spanish afternoon siesta--it is nearly impossible to accomplish anything between 11 am and 5 pm due to the soaring temperature. So, to was a gift to gain some kilometers at night, with a group of friends and a head lamp. Passing through towns at 2 am, we caused a chorus of barking dogs along the way, but were able to enjoy the night wind blowing off the meseta.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Across Navara, through Pamplona
For the sake of time, just a few highlights from the last week:
-trekking past fields of golden wheat, ripe for the harvest, with the Pyranees (which I crossed!) in the distance
-getting my first good night of sleep, after 3 sleepness nights, thanks to the snores
-enjoying Pamplona on a Saturday night. (It is an experience!) Everyone out in the streets, drinking vino and eating tapas, dancing and talking. A marching band came down the street, followed by a crowd of children and slightly borracho men.
-An entire day of hiking sola. It has been amazing to meet people from Germany, Belgium, Holland, Spain, Mexico, Italy, France, etc. and I try to walk with someone different nearly every day in order to have conversations with people of different cultures and perspectives. But, to have a day ALONE on the Camino is amazing. I walked along, picking wildflowers and singing Bob Dylan out loud. Came upon a stream and stopped for a swim. Sat by the bank of the river in the afternoon and sketched what I saw. Laughed out loud for joy. And arrived, exhausted, at my albergue.
-Passing past vineyards, through forests and over fields to enter a small village. As I walk, it feels as though I am lost in both time and space. I could be in the wine country of France or in a Tuscan valley. Upon seeing the stone walls of a medeival town and the terra cotta roofs of buildings, I could be centuries past.
-eating paella and drinking ample Spanish wine
-shedding extra clothing, books and things from my backpack like a lizard sheds skin. It is incredibly freeing to be "homeless" in this way, to be able to carry all of my belongings on my back.
-standing on a ridge, flanked by giant windmills and looking down on tiny villages, cars and homes
-Connections with people, despite cultural and language differences. I have had conversations about everthing from David Bowie to religion to punk rock music to cooking spices to weird dreams to relationships to family with amazing people. You have alot of time while on the Camino. I am struck by the fact that we are all the same, despite our differences.
-trekking past fields of golden wheat, ripe for the harvest, with the Pyranees (which I crossed!) in the distance
-getting my first good night of sleep, after 3 sleepness nights, thanks to the snores
-enjoying Pamplona on a Saturday night. (It is an experience!) Everyone out in the streets, drinking vino and eating tapas, dancing and talking. A marching band came down the street, followed by a crowd of children and slightly borracho men.
-An entire day of hiking sola. It has been amazing to meet people from Germany, Belgium, Holland, Spain, Mexico, Italy, France, etc. and I try to walk with someone different nearly every day in order to have conversations with people of different cultures and perspectives. But, to have a day ALONE on the Camino is amazing. I walked along, picking wildflowers and singing Bob Dylan out loud. Came upon a stream and stopped for a swim. Sat by the bank of the river in the afternoon and sketched what I saw. Laughed out loud for joy. And arrived, exhausted, at my albergue.
-Passing past vineyards, through forests and over fields to enter a small village. As I walk, it feels as though I am lost in both time and space. I could be in the wine country of France or in a Tuscan valley. Upon seeing the stone walls of a medeival town and the terra cotta roofs of buildings, I could be centuries past.
-eating paella and drinking ample Spanish wine
-shedding extra clothing, books and things from my backpack like a lizard sheds skin. It is incredibly freeing to be "homeless" in this way, to be able to carry all of my belongings on my back.
-standing on a ridge, flanked by giant windmills and looking down on tiny villages, cars and homes
-Connections with people, despite cultural and language differences. I have had conversations about everthing from David Bowie to religion to punk rock music to cooking spices to weird dreams to relationships to family with amazing people. You have alot of time while on the Camino. I am struck by the fact that we are all the same, despite our differences.
Friday, June 25, 2010
A little bit of pilgram history
Ive learned a lot about the history of El Camino in the last few days, while walking.
Firstly, El Camino during the Medieval times was a Catholic pilgramage often for penance, made by people to had committed a crime or a great sin. Leaving their homes, people made their way towards Santiago de Compostela, walking many miles across Europe and often dying along the way. I imagine that many sick or elderly people were walking to get healing in Santiago, but could not cross the mountains or the desertous meseta. So, vultures followed the pilgrams, circle to pick the carrion from those that fell by the wayside. Upon arriving in Santiago, pilgrams received their official pardon from the Catholic church and a certificate saying that their sins had been forgiven. From there, pilgrams walked to Finesterre ("the end of the world"), to the Atlantic Ocean, to burn their clothes and wash in the sea. Can you imagine arriving at the very edge of the world, as it was known in Medieval time, to see the setting sun on the ocean? Also, pilgrams took from the ocean a scallop shell to bring home, as proof of their journey and a sign of their forgiveness. When pilgrams were received back, the scallop shell was proof that they could be reconciled and brought into the life of the community.
The scallop shell is a beautiful symbol of the Camino. Along with yellow markers, scallop shells painted on buildings are signals that you are correctly following the trail. Also, all of the different lines along the edge of the shell that lead to the middle is symbolic of the many paths that join El Camino. I like this idea that people come from many different places, many walks of life, many motivations and walk along the same path in the end.
I was taught the ancient song about El Camino by a french woman and man named Isabel and Allen one day as I took a break to drink cafe au lait. The chorus is in Latin and says "ultreia," meaning "walk on, keep walking," an encouragement to finish the trail. There is imagery of Santiago (Saint James) standing by the ocean, arms stretched out, calling to the pilgrams. Some of the words tell of following the stars and walking through the trials along the path. It is beautiful! I think that if you google it, you could find a link.
Firstly, El Camino during the Medieval times was a Catholic pilgramage often for penance, made by people to had committed a crime or a great sin. Leaving their homes, people made their way towards Santiago de Compostela, walking many miles across Europe and often dying along the way. I imagine that many sick or elderly people were walking to get healing in Santiago, but could not cross the mountains or the desertous meseta. So, vultures followed the pilgrams, circle to pick the carrion from those that fell by the wayside. Upon arriving in Santiago, pilgrams received their official pardon from the Catholic church and a certificate saying that their sins had been forgiven. From there, pilgrams walked to Finesterre ("the end of the world"), to the Atlantic Ocean, to burn their clothes and wash in the sea. Can you imagine arriving at the very edge of the world, as it was known in Medieval time, to see the setting sun on the ocean? Also, pilgrams took from the ocean a scallop shell to bring home, as proof of their journey and a sign of their forgiveness. When pilgrams were received back, the scallop shell was proof that they could be reconciled and brought into the life of the community.
The scallop shell is a beautiful symbol of the Camino. Along with yellow markers, scallop shells painted on buildings are signals that you are correctly following the trail. Also, all of the different lines along the edge of the shell that lead to the middle is symbolic of the many paths that join El Camino. I like this idea that people come from many different places, many walks of life, many motivations and walk along the same path in the end.
I was taught the ancient song about El Camino by a french woman and man named Isabel and Allen one day as I took a break to drink cafe au lait. The chorus is in Latin and says "ultreia," meaning "walk on, keep walking," an encouragement to finish the trail. There is imagery of Santiago (Saint James) standing by the ocean, arms stretched out, calling to the pilgrams. Some of the words tell of following the stars and walking through the trials along the path. It is beautiful! I think that if you google it, you could find a link.
Crossing the Pyranees
A very short one, since my internet might run out at any minute....
I´m on the trail--today was day two. Yesterday was KILLER. Straight up and down the mountains. I unloaded about half of my pack at the first refugio--anything not totally necessary (the definition of which is changing often for me. "Do I really need this second pair of pants?") When you are walking all day, carrying everything on your back like a mule, any extra kilogram matters. The Pyranees are beautiful...lots of vistas of rolling hills, misty mountain peaks, sheep grazing, through the pine forests. At every turn I felt like I was in a painting. So far I have met amazing people--a Mexican dad and son walking together, a German priest-to-be walking from Germany fully clothed in the garb of a Templar Knight, an Argentinian woman. Today I walked with two hilarious Italian friends. It was like a language triangle--they spoke Italian to teach other, one could speak English with me and the other Spanish with me. El Camino is such an amazing multicultural experience....
Now I am in the town of Zubrini (?). There is a medieval stone bridge that crosses a small river.Spend time time skipping rocks and splashing in the water, to cool our tired feet, on arrival. I am thinking about spending the afternoon with a siesta in the shade on the banks. Then, some tapas perhaps and a bottle of vino. (I think that a little wine is good for the muscles :).
I´m on the trail--today was day two. Yesterday was KILLER. Straight up and down the mountains. I unloaded about half of my pack at the first refugio--anything not totally necessary (the definition of which is changing often for me. "Do I really need this second pair of pants?") When you are walking all day, carrying everything on your back like a mule, any extra kilogram matters. The Pyranees are beautiful...lots of vistas of rolling hills, misty mountain peaks, sheep grazing, through the pine forests. At every turn I felt like I was in a painting. So far I have met amazing people--a Mexican dad and son walking together, a German priest-to-be walking from Germany fully clothed in the garb of a Templar Knight, an Argentinian woman. Today I walked with two hilarious Italian friends. It was like a language triangle--they spoke Italian to teach other, one could speak English with me and the other Spanish with me. El Camino is such an amazing multicultural experience....
Now I am in the town of Zubrini (?). There is a medieval stone bridge that crosses a small river.Spend time time skipping rocks and splashing in the water, to cool our tired feet, on arrival. I am thinking about spending the afternoon with a siesta in the shade on the banks. Then, some tapas perhaps and a bottle of vino. (I think that a little wine is good for the muscles :).
Monday, June 21, 2010
La fete du anniversaire et la mer
The french know how to party! Even the best American bash really cannot compare.... I went to the birthday party of 70 year old Marcel (Dominiques father). There were about 100 French cousins, aunts, uncles, neices, nephews, friends, random foreigners (just me, actually :). I was explained who was related to who, but it was quite confusing (in French) and I would be lost if asked to make a family tree. Lots of kids running around, people smoking, talking Cup du Monde futbol, joking and laughing. At one point in the day, a whole group of men gathered to play les boulles (bocci ball), to jokingly argue over whose ball is closest to the target and to drink beer. The party lasted from 12 noon (aperativ and snacks) until way past 1 am when we left (by that point everyone had moved on to dancing, karioke, wine and drinking songs). There was a series of courses--breads, salads, meats, dessert, cheese and eventually back to the beginning again. As le americain, I participated mainly by lots of broken french and hand signals, as wrll as dutifully drinking whatever alcohol was put in front of me "por un souveneir." As soon as one cup was drained, I would miraculously find a full cup in my hand, placed there by an elderly frenchman with a twinkle in his eye. To finish off the night I was given a 20 year old cognc, illegal in France because it is so strong and hidden in the bottle of a tamer drink. Everyone was super kind to me and I had an interesting "conversation" with some of the younger, university crowd who lamented the stereotypes of the French--baguette, biciclette and beret. I argued that the American sterotype might be worse--loud, fat and imperialist. We laughed at that.
On Sunday, we took a drive along the Breton shoreline. So beautiful! Craggy rocks, rugged beaches, a blue sky. We parked by the side of the road and explored among the tidal pools, climbing rocks and trying to catch crabs, barnacles, shrimp, fish and clams. Frederique and Dom taught me some of the french names and we all jumped and hollared when a big crab lept out from under a rock. Then, to the town of le Croisic for crepes and to enjoy a local festival, with folk dancing, folkloric costumes and music. Believe it or not Brittany is very heavily influenced by Gaelic culture, so there were bagpipes and flutes typical of the region. We drove past the salt marshes of Gueronde. When the tide comes in, it brings briny water into shallow pools. The sun makes the water evaporate, leaving course sea salt behind, which is swept up and sold. I plan to bring some along in my pack, along with the blue-white striped Breton sailor shirt that I bought.
On Sunday, we took a drive along the Breton shoreline. So beautiful! Craggy rocks, rugged beaches, a blue sky. We parked by the side of the road and explored among the tidal pools, climbing rocks and trying to catch crabs, barnacles, shrimp, fish and clams. Frederique and Dom taught me some of the french names and we all jumped and hollared when a big crab lept out from under a rock. Then, to the town of le Croisic for crepes and to enjoy a local festival, with folk dancing, folkloric costumes and music. Believe it or not Brittany is very heavily influenced by Gaelic culture, so there were bagpipes and flutes typical of the region. We drove past the salt marshes of Gueronde. When the tide comes in, it brings briny water into shallow pools. The sun makes the water evaporate, leaving course sea salt behind, which is swept up and sold. I plan to bring some along in my pack, along with the blue-white striped Breton sailor shirt that I bought.
Friday, June 18, 2010
en Brreton (Brittany)
Made it to Trinac, the town where my mother and father spent time when my dad played bball. Arrived at the house of Cecile, Dominique, Frederique (7) and Marc (3) last night. They have been so sweet to me and made delicious Breton mussels (mos) from their region for dinner last night. The children are so cute and we managed to play Ce est? (Guess Who?) last night with translating help from Cecile and lots of hand signals.
Today I went to school with Cecile (she teaches English to Jr. High students) to speak with her classes. I felt like a movie star! They asked me a million questions and wanted to talk all about George Clooney, Twilight and futbol du WorldCup. I talked to ~7 English classes and my brain is fried right now from being guest speaker for the day. They gave me a standing ovation when I was done! I also felt like an American bum in my shorts and hiking shoes. Even teenagers in France are tre chic; I dont think that the awkward period exists in such a fashionable country. Spanish served me well today, as I was able to communicate with the Spanish teachers at the school. It makes me anxious to go to Espana where I will no longer be le verbal enfant. Not being able to speak a language that you are surrounded by is like being lost in an ocean of noise, but alone and silent. This experience is showing me the importance of learning a foreign language; I feel quite bad coming to a country and being totally incapable of communication and reliant on others to speak English or be willing to use hand language.
Today I went to school with Cecile (she teaches English to Jr. High students) to speak with her classes. I felt like a movie star! They asked me a million questions and wanted to talk all about George Clooney, Twilight and futbol du WorldCup. I talked to ~7 English classes and my brain is fried right now from being guest speaker for the day. They gave me a standing ovation when I was done! I also felt like an American bum in my shorts and hiking shoes. Even teenagers in France are tre chic; I dont think that the awkward period exists in such a fashionable country. Spanish served me well today, as I was able to communicate with the Spanish teachers at the school. It makes me anxious to go to Espana where I will no longer be le verbal enfant. Not being able to speak a language that you are surrounded by is like being lost in an ocean of noise, but alone and silent. This experience is showing me the importance of learning a foreign language; I feel quite bad coming to a country and being totally incapable of communication and reliant on others to speak English or be willing to use hand language.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Paris, je taime....not really :)
I stepped off the plane at Charles DeGaulle airport this morning shaking in my hiking boots. The reality of being in a foreign country where you dont speak the language has finally sunk in, I think. I've gotten many disgruntled looks from Parisians who are not happy with my methods of pointing at things and speaking "fr-anglish."
But, all in all, a successful day.
So far Ive managed to maneuver the Paris subway system with relative ease (thank you, Chicago, for the practice) and spent some time on the Left Bank. Lots of tiny winding streets, fountains, braissaires (sandwich shops) and street vendors. I strolled along the Seine and sipped some cafe con leche at a cafe, desperately trying to keep the exhaustion away (it's been 36 hours without sleep so far). Paris really is the most romantic city in the world. Or maybe we have just shaped our idea of romance around this iconic city? Either way, it was lonely to look across the river at the cathedral of Notre Dame and watch couples strolling hand in hand.
Now I am in Montremarte, the famous home of the Moulin Rouge. Right now there is a jazzy band (tuba, sax, bango) playing in the plaza and it is nice to walk past shops selling cheerful flowers, fresh fruit or dried sausages. I will sleep tonight in the abbey of the Catedral de Sacre-Coure de Montremarte. I am expected to stay up for an hour to pray with the sisters (they only let pilgrams stay in their monastary and you have to "prove it"). Considering my jet lag, this sounds like an impossibility. I think that I will pray that I can stay awake. :)
But, all in all, a successful day.
So far Ive managed to maneuver the Paris subway system with relative ease (thank you, Chicago, for the practice) and spent some time on the Left Bank. Lots of tiny winding streets, fountains, braissaires (sandwich shops) and street vendors. I strolled along the Seine and sipped some cafe con leche at a cafe, desperately trying to keep the exhaustion away (it's been 36 hours without sleep so far). Paris really is the most romantic city in the world. Or maybe we have just shaped our idea of romance around this iconic city? Either way, it was lonely to look across the river at the cathedral of Notre Dame and watch couples strolling hand in hand.
Now I am in Montremarte, the famous home of the Moulin Rouge. Right now there is a jazzy band (tuba, sax, bango) playing in the plaza and it is nice to walk past shops selling cheerful flowers, fresh fruit or dried sausages. I will sleep tonight in the abbey of the Catedral de Sacre-Coure de Montremarte. I am expected to stay up for an hour to pray with the sisters (they only let pilgrams stay in their monastary and you have to "prove it"). Considering my jet lag, this sounds like an impossibility. I think that I will pray that I can stay awake. :)
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
a little Dylan for the road....
I'll let the poets say it best:
Oh I'm sailin' away my own true love
I'm sailin' away in the morning
Is there something I can send you from across the sea
From the place that I'll be landing ?
No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true love
There's nothin' I wish to be ownin'
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled
From across that lonesome ocean.
Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine
Made of silver or of golden
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona ?
Take heed, take heed of the Western wind
Take heed of the stormy weather
And, yes, there is something you can send back to me
Spanish boots of Spanish leather.....
Oh I'm sailin' away my own true love
I'm sailin' away in the morning
Is there something I can send you from across the sea
From the place that I'll be landing ?
No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true love
There's nothin' I wish to be ownin'
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled
From across that lonesome ocean.
Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine
Made of silver or of golden
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona ?
Take heed, take heed of the Western wind
Take heed of the stormy weather
And, yes, there is something you can send back to me
Spanish boots of Spanish leather.....
Adios and au revoir
Hi all,
Well, I am heading off in a few hours, as some of you may know, to take a trek around Europe. And, to best help with keeping in touch over the next 6 weeks, I thought I would start a blog that you can check as you like. There may also be a mass email or two to keep you up to date. I do apologize if you would rather not be on this list and i included you.....i guess you can just ignore my blog. :)
My plan is to fly to Paris today (June 15), arrive tomorrow and spend the jet-lagged day in a coffee shop before I stay at Basilique de Sacre-Coeur de Montmartre that night.
Then, up to Brittany, to St. Nazaire, I go to visit dear friends, Cecile and Dominique and their two darling children Frederique (7) and Marc (4). They have big plans for me, which include a trip to the salt flats, the birthday party of a 70 year old Frenchman and a visit to a french middle school to be the "guest speaker." I arrive loaded with Disney paraphanelia (per request) and several other typically American items as gifts.
From, there I begin the true journey by hiking El Camino de Santiago (check it out: http://www.caminodesantiago.me.uk/ ) , an ancient pilgramage route that begins in St. Jean de Pied (in Southwestern France), which crosses the Pyranees Mountains, the Basque country, the dry, arid meseta, wine country and into lush Galicia. I plan to take the train all the way to the Atlantic Ocean so that I can stick my feet in, look across the sea and think of home. This trek takes about a month and I will be staying in refugios (hostels) with hoardes of other pilgrims, carrying my gear on my back and eating at bars/from cans of tuna along the way. I do plan to do some thinking, reflecting, adventuring and relaxing; to have my own retreat away from life and to meet some awesome people.
At the end of the trip, I finish in Santiago de Compostela where I hope to receive my official certificate of pilgramage (thank you, Pope), burn a dirty sock to celebrate, buy a scallop shell (the symbol of El Camino) and hop in the fountain there. Then, I make my way back to Paris (though Madrid? Barcelona? Taize Community?) to catch a flight home on July 27.
As always, I welcome your thoughts/emails during this time, but can make no promises about how much email access I will have. Love to you all.
Au revoir,
Lindsay
Well, I am heading off in a few hours, as some of you may know, to take a trek around Europe. And, to best help with keeping in touch over the next 6 weeks, I thought I would start a blog that you can check as you like. There may also be a mass email or two to keep you up to date. I do apologize if you would rather not be on this list and i included you.....i guess you can just ignore my blog. :)
My plan is to fly to Paris today (June 15), arrive tomorrow and spend the jet-lagged day in a coffee shop before I stay at Basilique de Sacre-Coeur de Montmartre that night.
Then, up to Brittany, to St. Nazaire, I go to visit dear friends, Cecile and Dominique and their two darling children Frederique (7) and Marc (4). They have big plans for me, which include a trip to the salt flats, the birthday party of a 70 year old Frenchman and a visit to a french middle school to be the "guest speaker." I arrive loaded with Disney paraphanelia (per request) and several other typically American items as gifts.
From, there I begin the true journey by hiking El Camino de Santiago (check it out: http://www.caminodesantiago.
At the end of the trip, I finish in Santiago de Compostela where I hope to receive my official certificate of pilgramage (thank you, Pope), burn a dirty sock to celebrate, buy a scallop shell (the symbol of El Camino) and hop in the fountain there. Then, I make my way back to Paris (though Madrid? Barcelona? Taize Community?) to catch a flight home on July 27.
As always, I welcome your thoughts/emails during this time, but can make no promises about how much email access I will have. Love to you all.
Au revoir,
Lindsay
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