There may be a few of you wondering what happened to Santiago de Compostela! It's already two weeks later.
After my self pitying, it's-all-about-me rant, I was blessed with encouragement and pride from my husband and wonderful down to earth words from my Laura. It's nobody's business how you got there; they don't know what you've been through! These are like warm hugs.
I had one Robaxacet with me which had been calling to me for days. I had tried everything else, give it a go, at the very least, I would get a good night's rest! This was the case and the day began.
We were all reserved and excited at the same time. Which always allows for Caminho moments. Laura knocked on the door to ask, Dad, can I carry Graham today. Yes, of course. We had asked if she wanted to at some point but to have it come as a request is an indescribable blessing to us. I will always treasure the silent exchange as I handed her the small package.
Then... our friends Beth and Jim back in Calgary had put together Bible verses and messages for each day on our first Camino and I had asked the favour of the same for this trip. For this day, Psalm 23, Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Oh my!
Dave and Laura set off over the train tracks and I stayed back to order a taxi to a likely meeting place. In fact, I saw them heading up a hill beside the church near the stop they had made at a café. The taxi left me at a park near the Casa Parada de Francos a beautiful looking rural inn. The park was a picnic area which gave me a place to sit, wait and enjoy the surroundings. It appeared to be the edge of a small residential development as cars came and went, people walked by up to the main street and one elderly woman made her way to the fruit trees in the yard nearby, picked a good piece and munched as she made her way slowly back home.
Soon the pilgrims started to come by so there were lots of Bom Caminho's to be given out. And then, at last, steps and voices which sound familiar and there they are with the Lithuanian couple they had met earlier. An interesting couple surprised to learn there is a wife along! Now they are really moved by our little family group.
We set off along the track and Laura was soon off on her own. This is good! Dave persevered with me until we came to the place of a possibility of a café. It looked pretty limited on the map but turned out to be a good sized town and what should be the welcome but a taxi sitting in front of a Farmacia! The first twinges had begun.
Google Translate got me more of the Spanish version of Robaxacet and a caution about it making me sleepy!
The café got us a very delicious potato snack, an actual toasted sandwich, a lovely visit with two women friends, one from Derbyshire, the other from Belfast and two glasses of wine for Dave. I was curious about how the walking was going to go for him!
Back to the Farmacia to ask about the taxi - he is at the café! Back to the café to find the driver. He kindly dropped me near a hotel marked on the map. A short walk along the marked Camino was another lovely park with a spot in the shade and a view of all the approaching walkers. It seemed to be taking longer than I had expected even though I knew from experience it takes what seems like forever to get from the outskirts of Santiago. I am glad to learn Laura did not trudge ahead but is with her Dad and we will walk in together as I had hoped.
In the blink of an eye, they appear and we set off up the busy street for the very last steps. Soon it is familiar with shops, bars and music! Up the hill on the other side of the Cathedral this time but the music of the piper at the usual entrance greets us as well. There it is - the Praza do Obradoiro - as it is most days filled with pilgrims and visitors.
We are happy but reserved again. Dave and I stand and contemplate. Laura enjoys some shade and the cool of the stones. She has done a great thing to bring her brother to this place.
Friday, September 25, 2015
Monday, September 21, 2015
Sept 11, 2015 what's a camino (Dave)
Laura and I were walking out of Redondela to Pontevedra; yes, another beautiful day for walking, somewhat overcast so as to not be hot, with rumours of rain possible.
We stopped at a café several hours down the road - a complete jumble-up with more people stuffed in wanting an espresso and bun and to get on again before the rain. As is so often he case with these mom/pop cafes, completely overwhelmed by the crowd and wholly understaffed, making the waiting just that much more tenuous, as one was never really quite certain the order might be relayed and returned, nor never quite knowing how much grace of time one should extend before either repeating or leaving.
We found a table in the corner, thought we had ordered and were calmly waiting for something to happen when the table next to us was taken up by a couple who in their patience undertook to start a conversation with us. They are from Lithuania, undertaking the pilgrimage in desire of receiving some direction on their next stage of life, following their children being set off and pursuing their own lives in various places. A delightful couple, Gunther and Viva, wholly humble and gentle-spirited, and taking their pleasure in each moment as it unfolded.
We saw them several times as we leap-frogged according to our paces. I noticed that Gunther (?) and one of their friends from Lithuania would stop at almost every icon along the way , statues, markers, chapels or churches, to take a moment to pray. I even noticed Gunther following this practice in Santiago in one of the heavier-trafficked tapas streets, inserting himself in the midst of several others oblivious in conversation.
This person was a real pilgrim, with a serious question articulated, and intent with expectation of receiving some direction from God, unlike most of the other travellers who were taking advantage of a well-supported route of travel, reasonably marked routes, enjoyment of the camaraderie which develops as one continues to mark the days with others' paces, and find yourself crossing paths.
I have great respect for those of us who undertake such an exercise with commitment and intention; mine however being much less clear.
It did however raise a question as to what this camino endeavor means and consists of. The camino is a process of putting one foot in front of the other at whatever pace you determine, and continue doing so until a specific goal / place is reached. The camino consists of a starting point and time, a passage of time in which questions of life are substantially reduced to cover health, food, shelter, weather, until one reaches the line in the sand, the goal.
Well, by gosh. This is really no less or more than what each of us does each day of our lives as we try to move consistently toward whatever the goal is - get a project done, meet deadlines, work on/build/strengthen relationships with friends, spouse, family. The blisters from walking are not much different from the resulting frictions that arise from living with others; both need to be tended to to ensure the problem reduces rather than increases in severity. The delight of sharing a meal at the end of the day with others you have spent the day walking and talking with, is not different from sharing the accomplishment of the day's goals with family, friends. The need for assistance from our travelling companions to help with blisters, advice etc, is no different from needing to ask for help with the problem immediately faced at home...
And then we get to do it all over again tomorrow! how hugely blessed we are to have those travelling with us to be a part of each of our lives, and we theirs.
We stopped at a café several hours down the road - a complete jumble-up with more people stuffed in wanting an espresso and bun and to get on again before the rain. As is so often he case with these mom/pop cafes, completely overwhelmed by the crowd and wholly understaffed, making the waiting just that much more tenuous, as one was never really quite certain the order might be relayed and returned, nor never quite knowing how much grace of time one should extend before either repeating or leaving.
We found a table in the corner, thought we had ordered and were calmly waiting for something to happen when the table next to us was taken up by a couple who in their patience undertook to start a conversation with us. They are from Lithuania, undertaking the pilgrimage in desire of receiving some direction on their next stage of life, following their children being set off and pursuing their own lives in various places. A delightful couple, Gunther and Viva, wholly humble and gentle-spirited, and taking their pleasure in each moment as it unfolded.
We saw them several times as we leap-frogged according to our paces. I noticed that Gunther (?) and one of their friends from Lithuania would stop at almost every icon along the way , statues, markers, chapels or churches, to take a moment to pray. I even noticed Gunther following this practice in Santiago in one of the heavier-trafficked tapas streets, inserting himself in the midst of several others oblivious in conversation.
This person was a real pilgrim, with a serious question articulated, and intent with expectation of receiving some direction from God, unlike most of the other travellers who were taking advantage of a well-supported route of travel, reasonably marked routes, enjoyment of the camaraderie which develops as one continues to mark the days with others' paces, and find yourself crossing paths.
I have great respect for those of us who undertake such an exercise with commitment and intention; mine however being much less clear.
It did however raise a question as to what this camino endeavor means and consists of. The camino is a process of putting one foot in front of the other at whatever pace you determine, and continue doing so until a specific goal / place is reached. The camino consists of a starting point and time, a passage of time in which questions of life are substantially reduced to cover health, food, shelter, weather, until one reaches the line in the sand, the goal.
Well, by gosh. This is really no less or more than what each of us does each day of our lives as we try to move consistently toward whatever the goal is - get a project done, meet deadlines, work on/build/strengthen relationships with friends, spouse, family. The blisters from walking are not much different from the resulting frictions that arise from living with others; both need to be tended to to ensure the problem reduces rather than increases in severity. The delight of sharing a meal at the end of the day with others you have spent the day walking and talking with, is not different from sharing the accomplishment of the day's goals with family, friends. The need for assistance from our travelling companions to help with blisters, advice etc, is no different from needing to ask for help with the problem immediately faced at home...
And then we get to do it all over again tomorrow! how hugely blessed we are to have those travelling with us to be a part of each of our lives, and we theirs.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Sept 3 Barcelos to seara (dave)
walking to our destination accommodation Residencial Pinheira Manso in Seara, short of the day's normal destination of Ponte de Lima because I didn't like a 30 km day.
long day for all - 27 Km -and thankfully again warm weather and clear skies- how sweet!
Laura and I had walked ahead of Wendy as she was feeling up to covering the last
distance to the day's goal. Got to the end of the road where we would normally turn right for another hour into Ponte de Lima; were surprised by a car pulling up asking if we were their guests and would we like a ride down the last 5 minutes walk?
Even though Laura's feet were sore and blistering, decided we would finish the day with integrity and walk it in. once checked in, I dropped my pack and walked back to the intersection where we had to make the choice to turn right into town on the Way or left to the accommodation. Walking back to meet Wendy I suddenly realized how easily I was able to walk after the day's trek of 27 km;
and realizing what a difference carrying a load makes, and what difference shedding a load makes.
Dave S was ambitious before his April walk of the same route, planning to loose 20 lbs to make up for what he anticipated he was going to carry. He ended up carrying much less, but made up for that by not loosing the weight - untiI getting sick in Lisbon from seafood rejection, and thereupon loosing 10 of his goal. One way to do it for sure!
I was intrigued by how accustomed I had become to carrying the 18 lbs (8+ KG) without thinking and without realizing how much easier movement was without it. I guess we all become accustomed to carrying loads of our own making and choosing, until we're ready to shed them.
Hmmm...
long day for all - 27 Km -and thankfully again warm weather and clear skies- how sweet!
Laura and I had walked ahead of Wendy as she was feeling up to covering the last
distance to the day's goal. Got to the end of the road where we would normally turn right for another hour into Ponte de Lima; were surprised by a car pulling up asking if we were their guests and would we like a ride down the last 5 minutes walk?
Even though Laura's feet were sore and blistering, decided we would finish the day with integrity and walk it in. once checked in, I dropped my pack and walked back to the intersection where we had to make the choice to turn right into town on the Way or left to the accommodation. Walking back to meet Wendy I suddenly realized how easily I was able to walk after the day's trek of 27 km;
and realizing what a difference carrying a load makes, and what difference shedding a load makes.
Dave S was ambitious before his April walk of the same route, planning to loose 20 lbs to make up for what he anticipated he was going to carry. He ended up carrying much less, but made up for that by not loosing the weight - untiI getting sick in Lisbon from seafood rejection, and thereupon loosing 10 of his goal. One way to do it for sure!
I was intrigued by how accustomed I had become to carrying the 18 lbs (8+ KG) without thinking and without realizing how much easier movement was without it. I guess we all become accustomed to carrying loads of our own making and choosing, until we're ready to shed them.
Hmmm...
Sept 4 Seara to Rubaies - or elsewhere (Dave)
Laura has already written about the traumatic day this was for her in her "Day ... I have no idea".
but what about my perspective and experience as her accompanying walker on that day...
I knew she was in some pain and dogging it as up to that point I suspect she was going on the basis of younger, stronger, better... and likely having a hard time lightly acknowledging her surprise at the old man generally keeping up, tagging slightly behind, moving ahead - a real tortoise and hare event!
I was thankful she decided to call it a day when she did as the remaining path took us generally straight up a 300 metre incline over old Roman roads - or at least over roads that were stabilized by cobblestones on uneven ground, uneven placing, uneven spacing, followed by the inevitable going down again - it would have been quite difficult for her in the going down especially, adding friction to surfaces that would really have objected.
When the offer for a ride popped out of the air and she took it, I continued on up the mountain myself. There were a few pilgrims ahead but they were younger and more intent and so lost sight of them. On the other hand, without Laura alongside I found my thoughts and attention wandering nowhere and anywhere - except on looking for the yellow signs of the path.
And how long was it before I recalled I hadn't seen any signs for perhaps 15 minutes, nor any people other than 2 cars that passed me (as I had unwittingly turned out on the road leading over the pass).
What to do when the signs hitherto relied on for pointing the way, confirming that you are still on the right road, eliminating the need for paying attention and effectively letting go of the map, seem to disappear, your phone battery is running thin so needs to be conserved in the event you really do need to call for help, virtually no one available to ask for direction even if it was possible to communicate in another language...
Back or forward, how far back do I need to go, carrying this pack, before I find my markers, remembering that I had been moving at a very respectable pace so meant likely retracing 2 km back and 2 forward again; or take a chance going forward into the great unknown (and in the absence of any actual road signs thus far) and maybe ending up in a different town altogether. Decided to go forward knowing the up had to become down sometime and somewhere end up in a town. Some distress texts sent off to at least allay concerns as to not showing up on time.
Which was just about the time I reached the top and found a monument pointing out I was on the Romana Atlantiqua which follows the roman roads through the region. Provided a great map of the trail and local area - but no, not possible to put a You R Here button nor did it identify the highway overpass under which I was standing.
An amusing and perplexing peculiarity of European roads is that unless its a highway toll road, signs are considered to be an aid to the enemy and consequently are not highly valued or put in place.
Their absence reminded me of the tale told us in Prague of the Russians invading in 1968 and taking up a fortified position at the top of Wenseslau promenade - in front of the national museum which they mistook for city hall. Street signs at that time had been removed, which in the absence of current technology, proved to be a significant slower-downer.
suffice to say with some further walking on the road, found rumours of one of the towns which I knew was in the right direction, and further down the hill. continued on till I found an almost toothless gentleman pulled up at an intersection who managed to communicate directions to the town next closest to the destination. followed my guess of the directions and discovered we had understood each other sufficiently to get me to a predictable point, whereupon texted W of the good news and ETA.
All of this to get me thinking along the way of lostness of the value of signs in our lives which we take for granted, ignore, respond to, misinterpret, miss altogether ... also reminded me of the Dead Dog Cafe's closing imprecation of "Stay calm, be brave, wait for the signs".
but what about my perspective and experience as her accompanying walker on that day...
I knew she was in some pain and dogging it as up to that point I suspect she was going on the basis of younger, stronger, better... and likely having a hard time lightly acknowledging her surprise at the old man generally keeping up, tagging slightly behind, moving ahead - a real tortoise and hare event!
I was thankful she decided to call it a day when she did as the remaining path took us generally straight up a 300 metre incline over old Roman roads - or at least over roads that were stabilized by cobblestones on uneven ground, uneven placing, uneven spacing, followed by the inevitable going down again - it would have been quite difficult for her in the going down especially, adding friction to surfaces that would really have objected.
When the offer for a ride popped out of the air and she took it, I continued on up the mountain myself. There were a few pilgrims ahead but they were younger and more intent and so lost sight of them. On the other hand, without Laura alongside I found my thoughts and attention wandering nowhere and anywhere - except on looking for the yellow signs of the path.
And how long was it before I recalled I hadn't seen any signs for perhaps 15 minutes, nor any people other than 2 cars that passed me (as I had unwittingly turned out on the road leading over the pass).
What to do when the signs hitherto relied on for pointing the way, confirming that you are still on the right road, eliminating the need for paying attention and effectively letting go of the map, seem to disappear, your phone battery is running thin so needs to be conserved in the event you really do need to call for help, virtually no one available to ask for direction even if it was possible to communicate in another language...
Back or forward, how far back do I need to go, carrying this pack, before I find my markers, remembering that I had been moving at a very respectable pace so meant likely retracing 2 km back and 2 forward again; or take a chance going forward into the great unknown (and in the absence of any actual road signs thus far) and maybe ending up in a different town altogether. Decided to go forward knowing the up had to become down sometime and somewhere end up in a town. Some distress texts sent off to at least allay concerns as to not showing up on time.
Which was just about the time I reached the top and found a monument pointing out I was on the Romana Atlantiqua which follows the roman roads through the region. Provided a great map of the trail and local area - but no, not possible to put a You R Here button nor did it identify the highway overpass under which I was standing.
An amusing and perplexing peculiarity of European roads is that unless its a highway toll road, signs are considered to be an aid to the enemy and consequently are not highly valued or put in place.
Their absence reminded me of the tale told us in Prague of the Russians invading in 1968 and taking up a fortified position at the top of Wenseslau promenade - in front of the national museum which they mistook for city hall. Street signs at that time had been removed, which in the absence of current technology, proved to be a significant slower-downer.
suffice to say with some further walking on the road, found rumours of one of the towns which I knew was in the right direction, and further down the hill. continued on till I found an almost toothless gentleman pulled up at an intersection who managed to communicate directions to the town next closest to the destination. followed my guess of the directions and discovered we had understood each other sufficiently to get me to a predictable point, whereupon texted W of the good news and ETA.
All of this to get me thinking along the way of lostness of the value of signs in our lives which we take for granted, ignore, respond to, misinterpret, miss altogether ... also reminded me of the Dead Dog Cafe's closing imprecation of "Stay calm, be brave, wait for the signs".
Sept 5 - Rubaies to Valenca - three graces
1. left the Alberque Constantino in Rubaies at a reasonable time to stop at the first café. L and I went up over the hill following the trail while W took the simpler route following the road. we met at the café for coffee and a breakfast before heading off.
Wendy's leg was being bothersome after the short downhill walk; Wendy had decided to catch a taxi to an interim point. As we were getting up to start off the daughter of the café owner came over, having overheard our discussion, and offered the service of her father to drop Wendy down the road approximately where she had been planning. As he was shortly heading that way it was no trouble and very pleased to be able to freely offer the assistance. At the drop off point, no money accepted though offered. Just a common courtesy offered to someone identified as needing assistance, so what else would you do!
2. Laura and I continued on up over hills, down lanes, through towns for the morning. we had chatted briefly with Alexis and Yolanta from Belgium along the way previously. As we descended into another small town, Alexis called up the hill for us to grab some oranges off the tree we were just passing. the tree was by itself in some resident's back yard; however Alexis being originally from Portugal and being a gently gregarious and curious person had chatted with some of the elderly women neighbours close by who had instructed him to grab some as well. Apparently the owners were away and not expected back until after the oranges had matured so the fruit was going to waste. Solution - Feed the pilgrims!
Laura and I chose some 6 from the tree, and smelled the real orange natural scent. Very delicious for the nose filling its sense of smell with that fresh tangy aroma which suggests there is more delight to come. packed most but cut into one which was so full of magnificent juice my mouth almost overflowed. Laura laughed at my sounds of delight coming through the full mouth of juice and orange - she observed it sounded just like the Wooky speaking.
3. it had been a hot day of walking, although hadn't yet covered 12 km - beautiful clear sky, mid 20's - and looked like it would be another hour at least before the next identified café was available; so one carries on. Only to be surprised by the presence of an alberque, the Quinta Estrada Romana, with lunch available out on the patio by the roadside. No traffic here as the road was getting down to a little more than a dirt track.
This is a recently added alberque owned and operated by a Canadian couple Leslie and Geof. Their goal is to become as self-sufficient and sustainable as they can, without doing away with the comforts they find necessary. When Leslie asked what we would like to eat, the automatic response is what's on menu. No menu here! Tell me what you want and we'll see what we can do. Laura was thrilled to not have to have another minimalist sandwich so asked for a salad. Leslie, using the tomatoes, onions and lettuce they grow added some tuna and cheese and presented us with a magnificent salad surprise.
Sunshine on the patio, quiet other than the birds and our chatting, no other guests at the time, it was easy to suddenly realize 2 hours had passed and the road still ahead. we discovered that both Leslie and Geoff had worked in Calgary at various times, Leslie's daughters still there, one of whom lives very close-by to Laura.
It was a wholly unexpected moment of rest in the middle of a day's trudge; warmth and gentleness and generosity of space, time and material things all with the intended purpose of helping us on this particular day and stage of our walk. A veritable oasis;
And just to affirm their commitment to being in this particular place at this particular time for their particular purpose, the lunch was donativo - whatever you want / can.
I recall observing myself being filled with a sense of utter contentment and well-being, letting a great inhaling of breath and exhaling of same be my word of wonder at the goodness there is in the world and, in contrast to the concurrent news of the plight of the refugees in Budapest, that I am so greatly blessed by all the surprise and unbiddenness of each of these different events; what's to say except thanks Dad.
Dave
Wendy's leg was being bothersome after the short downhill walk; Wendy had decided to catch a taxi to an interim point. As we were getting up to start off the daughter of the café owner came over, having overheard our discussion, and offered the service of her father to drop Wendy down the road approximately where she had been planning. As he was shortly heading that way it was no trouble and very pleased to be able to freely offer the assistance. At the drop off point, no money accepted though offered. Just a common courtesy offered to someone identified as needing assistance, so what else would you do!
2. Laura and I continued on up over hills, down lanes, through towns for the morning. we had chatted briefly with Alexis and Yolanta from Belgium along the way previously. As we descended into another small town, Alexis called up the hill for us to grab some oranges off the tree we were just passing. the tree was by itself in some resident's back yard; however Alexis being originally from Portugal and being a gently gregarious and curious person had chatted with some of the elderly women neighbours close by who had instructed him to grab some as well. Apparently the owners were away and not expected back until after the oranges had matured so the fruit was going to waste. Solution - Feed the pilgrims!
Laura and I chose some 6 from the tree, and smelled the real orange natural scent. Very delicious for the nose filling its sense of smell with that fresh tangy aroma which suggests there is more delight to come. packed most but cut into one which was so full of magnificent juice my mouth almost overflowed. Laura laughed at my sounds of delight coming through the full mouth of juice and orange - she observed it sounded just like the Wooky speaking.
3. it had been a hot day of walking, although hadn't yet covered 12 km - beautiful clear sky, mid 20's - and looked like it would be another hour at least before the next identified café was available; so one carries on. Only to be surprised by the presence of an alberque, the Quinta Estrada Romana, with lunch available out on the patio by the roadside. No traffic here as the road was getting down to a little more than a dirt track.
This is a recently added alberque owned and operated by a Canadian couple Leslie and Geof. Their goal is to become as self-sufficient and sustainable as they can, without doing away with the comforts they find necessary. When Leslie asked what we would like to eat, the automatic response is what's on menu. No menu here! Tell me what you want and we'll see what we can do. Laura was thrilled to not have to have another minimalist sandwich so asked for a salad. Leslie, using the tomatoes, onions and lettuce they grow added some tuna and cheese and presented us with a magnificent salad surprise.
Sunshine on the patio, quiet other than the birds and our chatting, no other guests at the time, it was easy to suddenly realize 2 hours had passed and the road still ahead. we discovered that both Leslie and Geoff had worked in Calgary at various times, Leslie's daughters still there, one of whom lives very close-by to Laura.
It was a wholly unexpected moment of rest in the middle of a day's trudge; warmth and gentleness and generosity of space, time and material things all with the intended purpose of helping us on this particular day and stage of our walk. A veritable oasis;
And just to affirm their commitment to being in this particular place at this particular time for their particular purpose, the lunch was donativo - whatever you want / can.
I recall observing myself being filled with a sense of utter contentment and well-being, letting a great inhaling of breath and exhaling of same be my word of wonder at the goodness there is in the world and, in contrast to the concurrent news of the plight of the refugees in Budapest, that I am so greatly blessed by all the surprise and unbiddenness of each of these different events; what's to say except thanks Dad.
Dave
Thursday, September 17, 2015
The last day
As I started my evening ritual of rolling back up my clothes, putting everything in it's place in my pack I started to feel, I don't want to say impending doom about the day coming up, that's far too dramatic, but almost like I was preparing for war. Whatever tomorrow brought, it would be hard. At first I thought it was the distance, 25km, but no, I've never been good with endings, I never let go very easily and I was just hitting my stride, just starting to gain what The Way had to offer me. Now I think about it, the last day was the beginning of another end in our journey, we got Graham to Santiago, no more distractions now, the next step would be a whole other form of letting go.
The morning started out on our side, we heard of a short cut the night before to pick up the way instead of back tracking just over a kilometer, which we found without difficulty. There was a fairly dense fog hanging over the land, which would later turn into a constant misting, but I wasn't complaining a bit as the blistering heat became a distant memory. The first stop we made was 6k in and it felt like dad and I were just flying, the initial mileage not even registering. Dad suggested we stop and I frankly had to do a double take and think to myself "Really?? Already??" But like I said we had already covered 6k. However the day did start to slow down, we met up with mom at some random place, she always tended to just pop up in our sight lines, but soon our paths diverged a bit. No matter how hard I tried I could never walk slower than my natural pace, so off I went assuming I would meet them for lunch at the next place. Of course when you are trying to coordinate 3 people nothing ever happens how you think it will, so I ended up doing most of the rest of the walk on my own. It was nice. Peaceful. I'm used to being on my own so that never bothered me, although I found I really started to enjoy my own company. Hey, I'm a delight! To be fair, I elected to take Graham that day and walk him into Santiago, so perhaps he was keeping me company a bit.
Finally I decided to stop and wait for my dad to catch up. We started this thing together, we should probably end it together too. We would walk the last 4/5k or so then meet up with mom to arrive at the cathedral all together. Just at the crest of a hill all of a sudden the city revealed itself. I couldn't see the Cathedral, but it was there lost in those twists and turns somewhere, so there I waited. I found a nice spot to sit and Graham and I just hung out until dad showed up. Talk about a charged time in your life. I was just to complete a 250km walk, I had Graham on my back, knowing we were about to scatter his ashes in a couple days, and to top it all off I was about to turn 30 in two days. So there I sat, for a long time, and just thought and felt. I won't lie, most was pretty painful. At some point my walking partner showed up, it was time to start the beginning of the end.
I constantly do this. I imagine how something is going to be and usually it is the exact opposite. Somewhere I head read the population of Santiago was about 70 000, not true! The city is huge! I had some vision of walking into somewhat of a town and all of a sudden, BEHOLD, the cathedral and everything revolving around it... Yeah, I know... Anyway, the final bit of the walk actually stressed me out a bit! We had to navigate around this huge city, with very few markers to indicate the way, going this way and that, stopping at traffic lights and fighting with traffic and business people. NOT my ideal version of ending this journey. Although, when we finally made it, true to European form, enormous monuments just appear out of nowhere, same for the Cathedral, turn a corner and BAM there it is! Along with that is the hundreds of stores cashing St James/Pilgrim/The Way paraphernalia, you know, just like in the old days... Anyway, entering into the square not only for yourself but with a constant steam of others is a huge privilege. Watching their expressions and reactions is a massive insight into what their journey may have been. Not only that, there is an energy of not only ecstatic joy but also of relief, despite all the vendors. For me, I retreated to the shade looking up at this massive edifice and said to myself "So, this is what I've been walking towards". Despite being half covered in scaffolding it really is quite impressive, even if you are not a "churchy" or "cathedraly" person like me. To have been in the square, shedding my boots and hobbling along in my flip flops, seeing the blister scars on other peoples feet, to know I have been part of something so much bigger than myself really is humbling. I feel an odd kinship to these people, to have shared our own defeats, failures and successes in the pursuit of a common goal, wow. I didn't know it at the time but I would experience the same emotion when we went to the Pilgrims mass the next day. I may not be a specifically religious person but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate it, and it was very heartening to see hundreds of people all in the same place for the same reason, appreciation, recognition of the experience.
Once we had taken in our fill we, of course, drank some sangria then headed to the apartment we had rented for the next 2 days. It was beautifully Ikea in all it's glory! Most importantly it was furnished with a bowl of chocolates and leftover ice cream bars from the previous renters, score! Dinner was lovely, the wine was lovely, but the whole night still seemed a bit surreal, I didn't have to set my alarm for the next day to get up and walk, it was over...
I think perhaps I will end my posts with the End of the World, Fisterra. It seemed only too appropriate to spend part of my 30th birthday at the end of the world with the mental state I was in. Lets just say I didn't take turning 30 well. At all. Even though the endpoint of Finisterre was slightly overrun with guides and tour buses, filled with people who had nothing to do with nor any idea of what a pilgrimage was, it still managed to maintain a sacred place. There are spots all over where pilgrims burn bits of clothing/boots/mementos they have carried from the beginning, so signify the end of their journey, to sit and reflect. So there I sat, on a rock at the end of the world. I sat for a very long time. So marking the close of one journey.
The morning started out on our side, we heard of a short cut the night before to pick up the way instead of back tracking just over a kilometer, which we found without difficulty. There was a fairly dense fog hanging over the land, which would later turn into a constant misting, but I wasn't complaining a bit as the blistering heat became a distant memory. The first stop we made was 6k in and it felt like dad and I were just flying, the initial mileage not even registering. Dad suggested we stop and I frankly had to do a double take and think to myself "Really?? Already??" But like I said we had already covered 6k. However the day did start to slow down, we met up with mom at some random place, she always tended to just pop up in our sight lines, but soon our paths diverged a bit. No matter how hard I tried I could never walk slower than my natural pace, so off I went assuming I would meet them for lunch at the next place. Of course when you are trying to coordinate 3 people nothing ever happens how you think it will, so I ended up doing most of the rest of the walk on my own. It was nice. Peaceful. I'm used to being on my own so that never bothered me, although I found I really started to enjoy my own company. Hey, I'm a delight! To be fair, I elected to take Graham that day and walk him into Santiago, so perhaps he was keeping me company a bit.
Finally I decided to stop and wait for my dad to catch up. We started this thing together, we should probably end it together too. We would walk the last 4/5k or so then meet up with mom to arrive at the cathedral all together. Just at the crest of a hill all of a sudden the city revealed itself. I couldn't see the Cathedral, but it was there lost in those twists and turns somewhere, so there I waited. I found a nice spot to sit and Graham and I just hung out until dad showed up. Talk about a charged time in your life. I was just to complete a 250km walk, I had Graham on my back, knowing we were about to scatter his ashes in a couple days, and to top it all off I was about to turn 30 in two days. So there I sat, for a long time, and just thought and felt. I won't lie, most was pretty painful. At some point my walking partner showed up, it was time to start the beginning of the end.
I constantly do this. I imagine how something is going to be and usually it is the exact opposite. Somewhere I head read the population of Santiago was about 70 000, not true! The city is huge! I had some vision of walking into somewhat of a town and all of a sudden, BEHOLD, the cathedral and everything revolving around it... Yeah, I know... Anyway, the final bit of the walk actually stressed me out a bit! We had to navigate around this huge city, with very few markers to indicate the way, going this way and that, stopping at traffic lights and fighting with traffic and business people. NOT my ideal version of ending this journey. Although, when we finally made it, true to European form, enormous monuments just appear out of nowhere, same for the Cathedral, turn a corner and BAM there it is! Along with that is the hundreds of stores cashing St James/Pilgrim/The Way paraphernalia, you know, just like in the old days... Anyway, entering into the square not only for yourself but with a constant steam of others is a huge privilege. Watching their expressions and reactions is a massive insight into what their journey may have been. Not only that, there is an energy of not only ecstatic joy but also of relief, despite all the vendors. For me, I retreated to the shade looking up at this massive edifice and said to myself "So, this is what I've been walking towards". Despite being half covered in scaffolding it really is quite impressive, even if you are not a "churchy" or "cathedraly" person like me. To have been in the square, shedding my boots and hobbling along in my flip flops, seeing the blister scars on other peoples feet, to know I have been part of something so much bigger than myself really is humbling. I feel an odd kinship to these people, to have shared our own defeats, failures and successes in the pursuit of a common goal, wow. I didn't know it at the time but I would experience the same emotion when we went to the Pilgrims mass the next day. I may not be a specifically religious person but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate it, and it was very heartening to see hundreds of people all in the same place for the same reason, appreciation, recognition of the experience.
Once we had taken in our fill we, of course, drank some sangria then headed to the apartment we had rented for the next 2 days. It was beautifully Ikea in all it's glory! Most importantly it was furnished with a bowl of chocolates and leftover ice cream bars from the previous renters, score! Dinner was lovely, the wine was lovely, but the whole night still seemed a bit surreal, I didn't have to set my alarm for the next day to get up and walk, it was over...
I think perhaps I will end my posts with the End of the World, Fisterra. It seemed only too appropriate to spend part of my 30th birthday at the end of the world with the mental state I was in. Lets just say I didn't take turning 30 well. At all. Even though the endpoint of Finisterre was slightly overrun with guides and tour buses, filled with people who had nothing to do with nor any idea of what a pilgrimage was, it still managed to maintain a sacred place. There are spots all over where pilgrims burn bits of clothing/boots/mementos they have carried from the beginning, so signify the end of their journey, to sit and reflect. So there I sat, on a rock at the end of the world. I sat for a very long time. So marking the close of one journey.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Sept. 15 Yes! We are still out here!
And by out here, it is literal! We are about 1700 Kms directly West of Lisbon. Terceira is a volcanic island about 19 Kms across. Settled around 1450 by a Flemish captain Jaome de Bruges, an associate of Prince Henry the Navigator who is still a big name throughout Spain and Portugal! It was an important base in both World Wars and continues to have a NATO and US presence. The main city, Angra do Heroismo, is busy with people, cars and business. I'm always struck by island life - here we are in this tiny place and everything is as it is everywhere else in the world.
We arrived last night after quite a day! We rally for breakfast at the hotel in Fisterre. Fisterre, the end of the world and the second official end of each Camino. We pile into the car and set off for Lisbon to catch the plane. Only two turn arounds to get us past Santiago and onto the Autopista 9 to Pontevedra. This is like two years ago when we drove back the entire 800 Kms in one day arriving at the airport with 5 minutes to spare! Today we only have about 6 hours of driving to reach Lisbon by 4:30. Dave is in his driving element as we whiz past the 120 signs which seem to be merely a suggestion to the locals who whiz by us!
Lots of familiar names go by - Caldas de Reis, Porrino, Tui, Ponte de Lima, Barcelos. We stop for lunch and we are back in Portugal - Dave's plate of veal comes with potatoes and rice!
The now A3 is a toll highway. Sometimes you throw money in the bucket and sometimes you get a ticket which you insert at the next booth. Now in Portugal, there is a lovely tempting lane with a green sign with a white check mark. Fine, we'll pay at the end. And we paid! Just after entering Lisbon - your ticket is no good, you must have another ticket - no, we don't have another ticket - I must charge you from the border, 42.50 euros please! I read the back of the ticket which tells me, if my ticket is lost or, if you are lazy and don't find out what the words meant under the white check mark which is actually a stylized V for a Via Verde pass, by law, they are allowed to charge you double! It's only money and we are contributing to the fine state of the Auopista!!
We arrive almost exactly at 4:30. The approach to the airport was simple and the self serve check in kiosk elicits none of the groans and frustration of the Calgary version. Off to the baggage drop.
The young man at the baggage drop points out that - for next time - there is a dedicated spot with no line ups for business class customers. Business class? Yes, your boarding pass is executive and you are welcome to wait at the lounge. You mean the gate? No, no the Blue Lounge on your left just before gate 7. Well, thank you RBC Rewards, I had no idea what I'd booked!
Laura and I head off to security where Dave suddenly realizes he has forgotten his Swiss army knife in his carry on. He's going back to the check in to see what can be done. The Blue Lounge is quiet and inviting! Laura's question is, We can just help ourselves to everything up there!? Why yes, go right ahead! Alcohol, snacks, water etc. I may have to book tickets with RBC Rewards online at 11:00 at night when the brain was shutting down more often! Dave arrives without his carry on - it has been checked through at no extra charge - hopefully, without incident to the precious cargo.
We are directed to the front of the boarding line; get settled in our seats and finally, the plane is off directly West over the Atlantic. All the usual announcements and the food service begins. A full meal with glassware and real cutlery (isn't this knife a weapon?) and warm rolls out of a basket! I could definitely get used to this and Laura will expect this kind of travel with her parents from now on!
Next on the agenda was a rental car. The VRBO owner has sent a taxi having not received our message about deciding to rent a car. Pay off the poor driver who has come all this way; get through all the paperwork and one of the rear signal lights does not work. OK, we'll change cars tomorrow. By this time, it is dark but we set off to the other side of the island. We get into the downtown area of Angra and cannot find the signs to Sao Mateus. Finally, I call Patrizia who sends someone, we still haven't clarified who he was, to come find us and lead us out to the house.
They are still in the process of making and serving pizza - that was the other sign we were to look for. We are well met with kisses and handshakes and Constantino insisting on sit, sit for wine. And you must have this pizza - it's light, you will sleep better. Fine, we give in to red wine from the box, white wine locally made and the best pizza we've had in a very long time! A wonderful end to a very long, full day.
Boa noite!
We arrived last night after quite a day! We rally for breakfast at the hotel in Fisterre. Fisterre, the end of the world and the second official end of each Camino. We pile into the car and set off for Lisbon to catch the plane. Only two turn arounds to get us past Santiago and onto the Autopista 9 to Pontevedra. This is like two years ago when we drove back the entire 800 Kms in one day arriving at the airport with 5 minutes to spare! Today we only have about 6 hours of driving to reach Lisbon by 4:30. Dave is in his driving element as we whiz past the 120 signs which seem to be merely a suggestion to the locals who whiz by us!
Lots of familiar names go by - Caldas de Reis, Porrino, Tui, Ponte de Lima, Barcelos. We stop for lunch and we are back in Portugal - Dave's plate of veal comes with potatoes and rice!
The now A3 is a toll highway. Sometimes you throw money in the bucket and sometimes you get a ticket which you insert at the next booth. Now in Portugal, there is a lovely tempting lane with a green sign with a white check mark. Fine, we'll pay at the end. And we paid! Just after entering Lisbon - your ticket is no good, you must have another ticket - no, we don't have another ticket - I must charge you from the border, 42.50 euros please! I read the back of the ticket which tells me, if my ticket is lost or, if you are lazy and don't find out what the words meant under the white check mark which is actually a stylized V for a Via Verde pass, by law, they are allowed to charge you double! It's only money and we are contributing to the fine state of the Auopista!!
We arrive almost exactly at 4:30. The approach to the airport was simple and the self serve check in kiosk elicits none of the groans and frustration of the Calgary version. Off to the baggage drop.
The young man at the baggage drop points out that - for next time - there is a dedicated spot with no line ups for business class customers. Business class? Yes, your boarding pass is executive and you are welcome to wait at the lounge. You mean the gate? No, no the Blue Lounge on your left just before gate 7. Well, thank you RBC Rewards, I had no idea what I'd booked!
Laura and I head off to security where Dave suddenly realizes he has forgotten his Swiss army knife in his carry on. He's going back to the check in to see what can be done. The Blue Lounge is quiet and inviting! Laura's question is, We can just help ourselves to everything up there!? Why yes, go right ahead! Alcohol, snacks, water etc. I may have to book tickets with RBC Rewards online at 11:00 at night when the brain was shutting down more often! Dave arrives without his carry on - it has been checked through at no extra charge - hopefully, without incident to the precious cargo.
We are directed to the front of the boarding line; get settled in our seats and finally, the plane is off directly West over the Atlantic. All the usual announcements and the food service begins. A full meal with glassware and real cutlery (isn't this knife a weapon?) and warm rolls out of a basket! I could definitely get used to this and Laura will expect this kind of travel with her parents from now on!
Next on the agenda was a rental car. The VRBO owner has sent a taxi having not received our message about deciding to rent a car. Pay off the poor driver who has come all this way; get through all the paperwork and one of the rear signal lights does not work. OK, we'll change cars tomorrow. By this time, it is dark but we set off to the other side of the island. We get into the downtown area of Angra and cannot find the signs to Sao Mateus. Finally, I call Patrizia who sends someone, we still haven't clarified who he was, to come find us and lead us out to the house.
They are still in the process of making and serving pizza - that was the other sign we were to look for. We are well met with kisses and handshakes and Constantino insisting on sit, sit for wine. And you must have this pizza - it's light, you will sleep better. Fine, we give in to red wine from the box, white wine locally made and the best pizza we've had in a very long time! A wonderful end to a very long, full day.
Boa noite!
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Sept. 9 Evening in Padron
Padron is the last stop before Santiago. We are in a lovely hotel named for Rosalia Castro Hebron, a revered poet of Spain, Portugal and beyond and especially Padron where she was laid to rest. The Renfe train goes by right across the road; yes, the famous train which went off the track going into Santiago two years ago because of excessive speed from the inattention of the driver while on his cell phone!
Despite the modernization of Spain - the train just went by as I write - there is typical Spain here - just a hint of sewage on the air, dogs barking in the distance, a stillness as night falls.
I have had a meltdown this evening. I simply cannot finish this Camino as I did two years ago. I have had incredible nerve pain in my leg every day so, anything more than about 4 or 5 kilometres has been a challenge. I am sad, disappointed and annoyed I cannot confirm to my daughter especially, the person I wanted her to meet. But I am reminded of the quote I had framed for David and Graham, "Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.”
However I get there tomorrow, I will still present myself for a compostela knowing I have accomplished at least one of my goals which was to get a piece of my son to Santiago. Certainly, not the way I wanted or expected but we have come as a family nonetheless and it has been good.
Buen Camino!
Despite the modernization of Spain - the train just went by as I write - there is typical Spain here - just a hint of sewage on the air, dogs barking in the distance, a stillness as night falls.
I have had a meltdown this evening. I simply cannot finish this Camino as I did two years ago. I have had incredible nerve pain in my leg every day so, anything more than about 4 or 5 kilometres has been a challenge. I am sad, disappointed and annoyed I cannot confirm to my daughter especially, the person I wanted her to meet. But I am reminded of the quote I had framed for David and Graham, "Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.”
However I get there tomorrow, I will still present myself for a compostela knowing I have accomplished at least one of my goals which was to get a piece of my son to Santiago. Certainly, not the way I wanted or expected but we have come as a family nonetheless and it has been good.
Buen Camino!
The second last day
I got asked if I was 21 today.
That is literally all that needs to be said for today!
Dart, the 21 year old, Younger
That is literally all that needs to be said for today!
Dart, the 21 year old, Younger
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
The day after the day I didn't know what day it was... Actually I think it is one more day after that.
I was thinking about the blog today and how I was going to start it, so I will give you a few of the options as I just couldn't decide.
1) Darty's got her groove back! (There has only been one person who called me Darty, however most of Grahams friends called him that, in truth I kinda always wanted that nickname but it just didn't stick!)
2) I finally get why people do this
3) I got shit on today
4) Slowly but surely gratitude is creeping its way into my life.
Now I'm sure you read those options and there is perhaps one that sticks out the most? I will start with that to ease your curiosity. You're welcome.
It all started yesterday my friends, dad and I started out walking, a relatively "short" day (18k or so) and it was the first day I could walk with very little pain from my blisters. It was amazing. One of the things I have come to realize is walking sticks are not for pretentious nor douchy people, they actually do work and work wonders at that! I borrowed my mom's set and holy jeeze did it ever help on the incline and decline specifically, but also helped me keep a rhythm while walking which kept me to a decent pace. Anyway, I digress, what you want to know is how I got shit on. After the long day my dad and I were relaxing on a patio drinking some sangria, after trying and failing to find a sports shop that may have had walking poles (I think that's where I was going with the walking stick thing... (I've already had two rather powerfully large sangrias so this may be a bit disjointed)) Eating croquettas and remarking on why people of Europe choose to dress their children exactly alike when BOOM! Out of nowhere all of a sudden I feel something warm and gooey on my head running down my forehead. For those of you who have yet to have a bird take a giant dump on you let me explain the thought process and eventual acceptance of what just happened.
- Oh my God what just landed on me and why is it warm??
- Look over to the person sitting next you, see if they are experiencing the same level of perplexity - they REALLY aren't
- All of a sudden you realize there are chunky bits on your sunglasses and can feel liquid running down your forehead.
- FREEZE
- Out loud "Oh. My. God. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod". Get it off! Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff!!!
-Resist the urge to run away, also resist the urge to hurl, it will be very prevalent at this point
-Look at your dad with what will probably the most pathetic and helpless expression you have ever given him and let him wipe off all the crap from your hair and face. AND pants.
- Still try not to hurl.
- Once you are cleaned up try and reconcile what just happened, there will be feelings of violation, shock, anger and eventually, EVENTUALLY hilarity.
I have to give my dad props on this one as he conducted himself with great decorum and only let out one or 2 laughs mid bird-shit-cleaning-up-event. After a couple minutes I was reminded of a comment left on one of my posts by a family friend who did the camino with her dad a couple months ago. It was on their last day, slogging along to Santiago in the pouring rain when a truck went through a puddle splashing the poor girl, while her mouth was open, soaking her from head to toe. Well, her dad and the other 2 people who where walking with him thought this was just the highest level of hilarity and made it be known! Well Leanne, I think you may have started a saying, this was my equivalent of being splashed by a puddle I think, so I'm sure for the rest of the trip if anything goes wrong, well, we were just splashed by a puddle! I suppose I should add in closing to this little story, we went out for dinner at an Italian place that night, and (after a few drinks...) my mother just had to bring the proprietor in on the story, who happened to be Italian, and of course his response was "Oh that is good luck!! It is lucky to be you! But you don't look so happy..." I told him I have never been crapped on before and was still in a bit of shock. He just laughed and then gave me a sucker he gives to all the other pouty children. I am going to be milking this whole luck thing for as long as I can! Perhaps it's working already, today when we got to the hotel I wanted some candy out of the vending machine and TWO came out instead!
Now that tale has been told I can just tie the rest in to one blurb. I feel I got my groove back from the first day as I can now finally walk at my normal pace without searing pain from my toes, and that in turn has made me feel a whole other level of gratitude. Walking, it's not hard, something we all do every day and just take it for granted. But when you have to walk 25k in pain, then a few days later you are pain free?!?! MIND BLOWING!! Of course this is coming with just two more days of walking, but that's okay I'll take it. Now my mind is off my feet I am finally really able to absorb and appreciate my surroundings! How the sun filters through the tree tops, how the water sounds flowing down the hillside forming mini waterfalls. All the little things, there's a whole world out there when you look up from the path you are taking!
So yes, I finally get why people do this. When they can just walk along, taking in the world, chatting with people, sampling the grapes from the vines by the path... My only question is why WOULDN'T you do this?! It definitely is a different kind of travelling, I don't think I would necessarily put it in the category of "holiday", but perhaps more of "experiencing the country". You work very hard every day and are rewarded far more greatly by the blessings which are presented to you. A stranger offering their beautiful oranges from a tree, unexpected treats which come with your coffee, someone stopping to offer directions when you are lost, and of course of course, just being able to walk. Gratitude!
Dart the Younger
1) Darty's got her groove back! (There has only been one person who called me Darty, however most of Grahams friends called him that, in truth I kinda always wanted that nickname but it just didn't stick!)
2) I finally get why people do this
3) I got shit on today
4) Slowly but surely gratitude is creeping its way into my life.
Now I'm sure you read those options and there is perhaps one that sticks out the most? I will start with that to ease your curiosity. You're welcome.
It all started yesterday my friends, dad and I started out walking, a relatively "short" day (18k or so) and it was the first day I could walk with very little pain from my blisters. It was amazing. One of the things I have come to realize is walking sticks are not for pretentious nor douchy people, they actually do work and work wonders at that! I borrowed my mom's set and holy jeeze did it ever help on the incline and decline specifically, but also helped me keep a rhythm while walking which kept me to a decent pace. Anyway, I digress, what you want to know is how I got shit on. After the long day my dad and I were relaxing on a patio drinking some sangria, after trying and failing to find a sports shop that may have had walking poles (I think that's where I was going with the walking stick thing... (I've already had two rather powerfully large sangrias so this may be a bit disjointed)) Eating croquettas and remarking on why people of Europe choose to dress their children exactly alike when BOOM! Out of nowhere all of a sudden I feel something warm and gooey on my head running down my forehead. For those of you who have yet to have a bird take a giant dump on you let me explain the thought process and eventual acceptance of what just happened.
- Oh my God what just landed on me and why is it warm??
- Look over to the person sitting next you, see if they are experiencing the same level of perplexity - they REALLY aren't
- All of a sudden you realize there are chunky bits on your sunglasses and can feel liquid running down your forehead.
- FREEZE
- Out loud "Oh. My. God. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod". Get it off! Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff!!!
-Resist the urge to run away, also resist the urge to hurl, it will be very prevalent at this point
-Look at your dad with what will probably the most pathetic and helpless expression you have ever given him and let him wipe off all the crap from your hair and face. AND pants.
- Still try not to hurl.
- Once you are cleaned up try and reconcile what just happened, there will be feelings of violation, shock, anger and eventually, EVENTUALLY hilarity.
I have to give my dad props on this one as he conducted himself with great decorum and only let out one or 2 laughs mid bird-shit-cleaning-up-event. After a couple minutes I was reminded of a comment left on one of my posts by a family friend who did the camino with her dad a couple months ago. It was on their last day, slogging along to Santiago in the pouring rain when a truck went through a puddle splashing the poor girl, while her mouth was open, soaking her from head to toe. Well, her dad and the other 2 people who where walking with him thought this was just the highest level of hilarity and made it be known! Well Leanne, I think you may have started a saying, this was my equivalent of being splashed by a puddle I think, so I'm sure for the rest of the trip if anything goes wrong, well, we were just splashed by a puddle! I suppose I should add in closing to this little story, we went out for dinner at an Italian place that night, and (after a few drinks...) my mother just had to bring the proprietor in on the story, who happened to be Italian, and of course his response was "Oh that is good luck!! It is lucky to be you! But you don't look so happy..." I told him I have never been crapped on before and was still in a bit of shock. He just laughed and then gave me a sucker he gives to all the other pouty children. I am going to be milking this whole luck thing for as long as I can! Perhaps it's working already, today when we got to the hotel I wanted some candy out of the vending machine and TWO came out instead!
Now that tale has been told I can just tie the rest in to one blurb. I feel I got my groove back from the first day as I can now finally walk at my normal pace without searing pain from my toes, and that in turn has made me feel a whole other level of gratitude. Walking, it's not hard, something we all do every day and just take it for granted. But when you have to walk 25k in pain, then a few days later you are pain free?!?! MIND BLOWING!! Of course this is coming with just two more days of walking, but that's okay I'll take it. Now my mind is off my feet I am finally really able to absorb and appreciate my surroundings! How the sun filters through the tree tops, how the water sounds flowing down the hillside forming mini waterfalls. All the little things, there's a whole world out there when you look up from the path you are taking!
So yes, I finally get why people do this. When they can just walk along, taking in the world, chatting with people, sampling the grapes from the vines by the path... My only question is why WOULDN'T you do this?! It definitely is a different kind of travelling, I don't think I would necessarily put it in the category of "holiday", but perhaps more of "experiencing the country". You work very hard every day and are rewarded far more greatly by the blessings which are presented to you. A stranger offering their beautiful oranges from a tree, unexpected treats which come with your coffee, someone stopping to offer directions when you are lost, and of course of course, just being able to walk. Gratitude!
Dart the Younger
Sunday, September 6, 2015
Sept. 5 Rubiaes to Valenca
The morning starts with a bit of confusion about breakfast. We knew it would be about 3 euros but also thought it would be downstairs in the albergue. A phone call confirms it is at the restaurant and there is no transfer like last night. Off I go ahead of the other two because I know they will catch up fast!
It is lovely to be out in the cool of the morning and into the trees. Saturday morning sounds fill the air; birds, gardening machines, the little creek and the "boom" "boom" of what we're not sure! The first meeting of the day is with a somewhat wildeyed pilgrim going the wrong way - ah, he is off to Fatima!
The café at the bend in the road, Bom Retiro, is open and welcoming. The rather chubby dog is looking longingly at our breakfast and it is Laura who gives in with a piece of bread from Dave's sandwich! As we're starting to leave, one of the young daughters with very good English comes to say my Mother says you need a ride and my Father can take you. He is going to San Pedro up the road but will leave me at an entrance to the Caminho. How perfect!
More booms as we're riding so, I ask about them. The younger daughter who has come along, says people make parties on the weekend. Whatever local fiesta or family gathering is accompanied by firecrackers! These are louder than any firecrackers I've heard!
I am dropped off at exactly the right spot and my offer of money is refused. Blessings to you!
So far this morning the leg is under control after much prayer and lots of Portuguese/Spanish ibruprofen which is quite magical compared to our usual! The uneven cobblestones are a challenge to walk on but, as I pass some beautiful homes including one with a Porsche SUV coming out of the driveway, I realize I've been a little slow on the uptake! This is not just the Caminho, this is the equivalent of Brown CRES, the local street. A tone down of the complaining is in order and some consideration of the fact some of these bricks were laid in Roman times!
Up ahead stand a group and sure enough, here is young Kylie, the New Zealander we met in Porto! With her is Pieter and Annamarie who is heavily bandaged over her nose and chin. Her boot lace came undone and she stepped on it pitching forward face first! Just part of the game is her positive pronouncement! The group is headed for the Albergue just ahead but I am headed for the ponte thinking I will come back to wait for D and L. The steep rocky descent changes that decision quickly! On to the roundabout at Tuido. Here there is a very nice restaurant where I pass the time waiting for D and L. The place fills up quickly. Apparently, Saturday lunch is a family affair with members of all ages and wine and beer flowing! Even a chorus of dogs in the background which is silenced with three sharp whistles!
I decide to head out on the last bit into Valenca but in true Caminho fashion, as I sit on a ledge somewhere for a rest, I catch a glimpse of Laura in the window of the car parked across the street and here they are coming around the corner! The last bit into any town or city always seems to take forever but at last we are together in the lobby. Dave and I headed over to the closest Pharmacia later to find even more bandages and the equivalent of Epsom salts for Laura's tired feet.
The restaurant we were directed to was just by the Pharmacia only a little walk from the hotel. Again, there are platters of food and we realize at this late juncture, we have been greedy in our ordering! They are perfectly willing to bring a platter for one person which can be shared by two or more. Our North American sensibilities are showing - how often are we looked at askance or just told no to the possibility of sharing one order!?
Before dinner, Dave and I had a few moments over a small jug of Sangria and a few musings about Graham. He would have loved the food - meat, potatoes and rice! He loved rice! The boys even had a rice cooker at the house. I think he also would have been at home in his own skin. His dark complexion would fit right in here. But we also wonder about the structure of the days on a Caminho. The routine might have been good but it might also have been a real challenge to his ADD tendencies!
I end with a careful comment about weather. Today was absolutely brilliant! A cloudless day until the last second of sun. I say careful so as not to have our friends, Dave and his daughter Leanne who were here in May, groaning. The rain did not make things easy for them!
The last time to say Bom Caminho!
It is lovely to be out in the cool of the morning and into the trees. Saturday morning sounds fill the air; birds, gardening machines, the little creek and the "boom" "boom" of what we're not sure! The first meeting of the day is with a somewhat wildeyed pilgrim going the wrong way - ah, he is off to Fatima!
The café at the bend in the road, Bom Retiro, is open and welcoming. The rather chubby dog is looking longingly at our breakfast and it is Laura who gives in with a piece of bread from Dave's sandwich! As we're starting to leave, one of the young daughters with very good English comes to say my Mother says you need a ride and my Father can take you. He is going to San Pedro up the road but will leave me at an entrance to the Caminho. How perfect!
More booms as we're riding so, I ask about them. The younger daughter who has come along, says people make parties on the weekend. Whatever local fiesta or family gathering is accompanied by firecrackers! These are louder than any firecrackers I've heard!
I am dropped off at exactly the right spot and my offer of money is refused. Blessings to you!
So far this morning the leg is under control after much prayer and lots of Portuguese/Spanish ibruprofen which is quite magical compared to our usual! The uneven cobblestones are a challenge to walk on but, as I pass some beautiful homes including one with a Porsche SUV coming out of the driveway, I realize I've been a little slow on the uptake! This is not just the Caminho, this is the equivalent of Brown CRES, the local street. A tone down of the complaining is in order and some consideration of the fact some of these bricks were laid in Roman times!
Up ahead stand a group and sure enough, here is young Kylie, the New Zealander we met in Porto! With her is Pieter and Annamarie who is heavily bandaged over her nose and chin. Her boot lace came undone and she stepped on it pitching forward face first! Just part of the game is her positive pronouncement! The group is headed for the Albergue just ahead but I am headed for the ponte thinking I will come back to wait for D and L. The steep rocky descent changes that decision quickly! On to the roundabout at Tuido. Here there is a very nice restaurant where I pass the time waiting for D and L. The place fills up quickly. Apparently, Saturday lunch is a family affair with members of all ages and wine and beer flowing! Even a chorus of dogs in the background which is silenced with three sharp whistles!
I decide to head out on the last bit into Valenca but in true Caminho fashion, as I sit on a ledge somewhere for a rest, I catch a glimpse of Laura in the window of the car parked across the street and here they are coming around the corner! The last bit into any town or city always seems to take forever but at last we are together in the lobby. Dave and I headed over to the closest Pharmacia later to find even more bandages and the equivalent of Epsom salts for Laura's tired feet.
The restaurant we were directed to was just by the Pharmacia only a little walk from the hotel. Again, there are platters of food and we realize at this late juncture, we have been greedy in our ordering! They are perfectly willing to bring a platter for one person which can be shared by two or more. Our North American sensibilities are showing - how often are we looked at askance or just told no to the possibility of sharing one order!?
Before dinner, Dave and I had a few moments over a small jug of Sangria and a few musings about Graham. He would have loved the food - meat, potatoes and rice! He loved rice! The boys even had a rice cooker at the house. I think he also would have been at home in his own skin. His dark complexion would fit right in here. But we also wonder about the structure of the days on a Caminho. The routine might have been good but it might also have been a real challenge to his ADD tendencies!
I end with a careful comment about weather. Today was absolutely brilliant! A cloudless day until the last second of sun. I say careful so as not to have our friends, Dave and his daughter Leanne who were here in May, groaning. The rain did not make things easy for them!
The last time to say Bom Caminho!
Day... I couldn't tell you if I tried
So had a bit of a blog hiatus, mostly due to the fact I have been far too exhausted and far to busy trying to get myself to a place I could actually walk the NEXT day! As I said in the title I have no idea what day it is or how many days we have actually walked, although I think in the back of my mind we only have 3 more walking days. It's a bit of a double edged sword of "only 3 more days??" and also "oh dear God still 3 more days??" You other pilgrims will understand!
We left Portugal today which actually made me really sad, much more than I would have anticipated. I loved it there, the food (mostly the ginormous portions but it was good too), the people we have met along the way at different cafe's or alberge's, the country side and the general feel in the air. People are not rich by any means, they work incredibly hard for what they have and always seem grateful for it. It truly is a land of community, everyone helps every one else out if they can with no expectation of reward or repayment, its just what you do. More on that in a little.
Down to the nitty gritty. This trip has been more challenging than I ever could have imagined, I was blissfully naïve the months leading up to us leaving and my eyes have been rudely ripped open. In total I have probably only walked about 10 pain free kilometers. Blisters have taken over my life. I have been having an argument with 7 of them covering both feet, excruciating step after excruciating step. Interestingly enough it hasn't detracted from the rest of the experience. Mornings are my favorite. The sun has not yet taken it's hold on the land, the brisk air and the fog turns the country side into another world. There are few sites I have seen in this world which have really imprinted themselves on me, one of them will always be the sun illuminating the morning haze over the rows of grape vines over valleys and hills, giving everything a subtle glow. Breathtaking. I could go on and on about how beautiful it is here, but perhaps I will save that for another time, here is was I have learned so far.
I have learned defeat. Something I have never been one to admit or accept gracefully. I think it was day 5 of walking, a longer day, 25 or 26 k, my blisters causing me to walk at a snails pace, limping on both feet. Man! The thoughts running through my mind that day! They were mostly along the lines of, don't be a quitter, what makes you so special to quit half way through, other people have lost most of their toenails and still didn't quit, don't be so weak. The other thoughts were along the lines of, haven't I suffered enough this year? Why am I doing this, this isn't fun for me. Then the unbidden thought came into my head. You need to ask for help. Having to ask for help in any capacity is my mount Everest, especially when it comes to a situation where I realize I just can't do it. I finally caught up to my dad, we finally made it to a café after a mere 15 k which took me an embarrassing 4 hours to make, to stop, rest and eat. He didn't ask, but I'm sure it had been on his mind for hours, him thinking I need to get a bus or some other way to get to the next town, but he didn't ask, it needed to come from me first. " I can't walk. I can't make it the rest of the way" I said, to which he agreed. Serendipity took over. We arrived at the little café about 10/15 minutes before he closed down for 30/40 minutes or so, causing about 10 other people along the way to sigh in disappointment and carry on to the next place for food. When the owner came back, he came in the form of my personal angel. He had very little English, but understood I needed a taxi to take me to Rubieas. His response (in rapid Portuguese of course) was something along the lines of, " No need, I'm going in that direction anyway, I'll take you now " After I got over my shock of some random person being so nice to me I almost started to cry. This ties back into the community aspect, he saw I was in need and just did what he could, and wouldn't take any money either I might add. So, the lesson I learned that day; I suppose people could say I was rewarded for my failure and quitting, I'm choosing to see it as a gift of grace after coming to terms with my own truth. I couldn't make it the whole way that day. I will try again tomorrow, what else can you do?
Today was a bit of a spontaneous rest day. Starting out in Valenca, walked through the old fortress, and let me tell you that was a pretty amazing experience on an early Sunday morning. The place was essentially a ghost town, nothing opens until 12 and we had the place to ourselves, so much so, we even were awarded a private harmonica concert by my dad in a partially underground tunnel with amazing acoustics! We then walked across the bridge into Spain, took a selfie with my dad which is apparently a thing he does now... and eventually grabbed a taxi to take us to Mos, just to shorten the day of walking through an industrial area on the highway. The last 10 K of the walk was supposed to be the hardest, up over an mountain and down a really steep track, but instead we decided to take a day. A day of rest. Hopped in a taxi and off we went to our next hotel. Now I get to be sitting in a café, enjoying some wine, looking out the window on the sun bleached hills with the occasional shimmer from the water, updating you all on our progress. Perfecto.
Three days left, oh what will they bring?!?!
Dart the Younger
We left Portugal today which actually made me really sad, much more than I would have anticipated. I loved it there, the food (mostly the ginormous portions but it was good too), the people we have met along the way at different cafe's or alberge's, the country side and the general feel in the air. People are not rich by any means, they work incredibly hard for what they have and always seem grateful for it. It truly is a land of community, everyone helps every one else out if they can with no expectation of reward or repayment, its just what you do. More on that in a little.
Down to the nitty gritty. This trip has been more challenging than I ever could have imagined, I was blissfully naïve the months leading up to us leaving and my eyes have been rudely ripped open. In total I have probably only walked about 10 pain free kilometers. Blisters have taken over my life. I have been having an argument with 7 of them covering both feet, excruciating step after excruciating step. Interestingly enough it hasn't detracted from the rest of the experience. Mornings are my favorite. The sun has not yet taken it's hold on the land, the brisk air and the fog turns the country side into another world. There are few sites I have seen in this world which have really imprinted themselves on me, one of them will always be the sun illuminating the morning haze over the rows of grape vines over valleys and hills, giving everything a subtle glow. Breathtaking. I could go on and on about how beautiful it is here, but perhaps I will save that for another time, here is was I have learned so far.
I have learned defeat. Something I have never been one to admit or accept gracefully. I think it was day 5 of walking, a longer day, 25 or 26 k, my blisters causing me to walk at a snails pace, limping on both feet. Man! The thoughts running through my mind that day! They were mostly along the lines of, don't be a quitter, what makes you so special to quit half way through, other people have lost most of their toenails and still didn't quit, don't be so weak. The other thoughts were along the lines of, haven't I suffered enough this year? Why am I doing this, this isn't fun for me. Then the unbidden thought came into my head. You need to ask for help. Having to ask for help in any capacity is my mount Everest, especially when it comes to a situation where I realize I just can't do it. I finally caught up to my dad, we finally made it to a café after a mere 15 k which took me an embarrassing 4 hours to make, to stop, rest and eat. He didn't ask, but I'm sure it had been on his mind for hours, him thinking I need to get a bus or some other way to get to the next town, but he didn't ask, it needed to come from me first. " I can't walk. I can't make it the rest of the way" I said, to which he agreed. Serendipity took over. We arrived at the little café about 10/15 minutes before he closed down for 30/40 minutes or so, causing about 10 other people along the way to sigh in disappointment and carry on to the next place for food. When the owner came back, he came in the form of my personal angel. He had very little English, but understood I needed a taxi to take me to Rubieas. His response (in rapid Portuguese of course) was something along the lines of, " No need, I'm going in that direction anyway, I'll take you now " After I got over my shock of some random person being so nice to me I almost started to cry. This ties back into the community aspect, he saw I was in need and just did what he could, and wouldn't take any money either I might add. So, the lesson I learned that day; I suppose people could say I was rewarded for my failure and quitting, I'm choosing to see it as a gift of grace after coming to terms with my own truth. I couldn't make it the whole way that day. I will try again tomorrow, what else can you do?
Today was a bit of a spontaneous rest day. Starting out in Valenca, walked through the old fortress, and let me tell you that was a pretty amazing experience on an early Sunday morning. The place was essentially a ghost town, nothing opens until 12 and we had the place to ourselves, so much so, we even were awarded a private harmonica concert by my dad in a partially underground tunnel with amazing acoustics! We then walked across the bridge into Spain, took a selfie with my dad which is apparently a thing he does now... and eventually grabbed a taxi to take us to Mos, just to shorten the day of walking through an industrial area on the highway. The last 10 K of the walk was supposed to be the hardest, up over an mountain and down a really steep track, but instead we decided to take a day. A day of rest. Hopped in a taxi and off we went to our next hotel. Now I get to be sitting in a café, enjoying some wine, looking out the window on the sun bleached hills with the occasional shimmer from the water, updating you all on our progress. Perfecto.
Three days left, oh what will they bring?!?!
Dart the Younger
Friday, September 4, 2015
Sept. 4 Seara (Ponte de Lima) to Rubiaes
The pilgrims were up bravely and out the door at 7:50 am after more sore feet and muscles yesterday - more on that in another post! This is the day with the >< 460 M gain and a 6 Km walk to the start since we stayed in a little family run hotel just outside of Ponte de Lima. After my portion of walking yesterday, I will not even attempt any today.
I spend some time making changes to the car booking and checking if I can rent a car here to get us to Valenca on the Portuguese side of the Rio Minho. No Ma'am, you have to go to Viana do Castro which is out on the coast 20 or 30 Kms away! Knowing that the baggage transport person has not come yet, I decide to wait in the lobby and sure enough, the owner of the hotel is able to explain my situation and I'm able to get a ride into Ponte de Lima. As we ride along, stopping to pick up other luggage, Marco the taxi driver talks about the difficult walk today. I explain about David and Laura walking and I am going into town to find the bus. Bus!! No bus - no connection to Rubiaes (pronounced with a prominent rolled r in the back of your throat and sh on the end! try it - Rrrrrubuaysh!) Seeing the look of dismay, he offers to take me to the next place we are staying. I am back on the Caminho with its many Angels!
Just as we pull up to the Albergue Constantino, I have a text from Laura - Where are you? I know immediately this is probably not so good. She's had enough for the day and I surely can't blame her. I had taken Marco's business card! A quick call and he was willing to come back after he'd dropped all his luggage. In the meantime, Dave had messaged to say there were taxis where they were and then the next second - the owner of the café is bringing her now! How wonderful to experience pay it forward from the many rescues I did two years ago!
Dave has decided to walk the mountain anyway. After Laura is settled, I sit in the lounge area with the tablet trying to get my Kobo to reset. No go - I think it is toasted! Grrrr! Then I text Dave to see how he's doing and start judging when I can leave to walk out a little way to meet him. Well, I'm on a road and I think I'm standing under the A3. I'm looking at the map for today and thinking the A3 is nowhere near the Caminho! A flurry of messages determine he has gone off the track somewhere and is in fact on the N201. Now I see a sign for Rumarigaes. OK, take the road south of there to the right to go to Cabanas. By the next message, I was getting worried and tried to have the guy downstairs drive out to find him but he couldn't get his head around the Ponte Romano on the map - no Ponte - Ponte is a qui - on the other side of Rubiaes! Thankfully, another message came - I am back on the Caminho at Cabanas! Finally, I can go out to meet him as he's only about 1 Km away. This is why our first Camino friends, Greg and Gayle, were so protective of Dave and his wandering attention!
We have spent another lovely evening over food and wine! The albergue owner drove us down to the restaurant run by his brother and mother and where he and his wife serve! Everyone works together here! They bring platters of food, we learn a little more Portuguese, and the lovely wife learns our dessert is called Crème Brulee - which we do not divulge isn't even English!
Laura - bless her - is gung ho to walk again in the morning. It's only16 Kms she announces! We realize tomorrow will be our last day in Portugal for awhile and feel sad. The country is beautiful and everyone we have met has been lovely, welcoming and patient with our pitiful attempts at the language
I spend some time making changes to the car booking and checking if I can rent a car here to get us to Valenca on the Portuguese side of the Rio Minho. No Ma'am, you have to go to Viana do Castro which is out on the coast 20 or 30 Kms away! Knowing that the baggage transport person has not come yet, I decide to wait in the lobby and sure enough, the owner of the hotel is able to explain my situation and I'm able to get a ride into Ponte de Lima. As we ride along, stopping to pick up other luggage, Marco the taxi driver talks about the difficult walk today. I explain about David and Laura walking and I am going into town to find the bus. Bus!! No bus - no connection to Rubiaes (pronounced with a prominent rolled r in the back of your throat and sh on the end! try it - Rrrrrubuaysh!) Seeing the look of dismay, he offers to take me to the next place we are staying. I am back on the Caminho with its many Angels!
Just as we pull up to the Albergue Constantino, I have a text from Laura - Where are you? I know immediately this is probably not so good. She's had enough for the day and I surely can't blame her. I had taken Marco's business card! A quick call and he was willing to come back after he'd dropped all his luggage. In the meantime, Dave had messaged to say there were taxis where they were and then the next second - the owner of the café is bringing her now! How wonderful to experience pay it forward from the many rescues I did two years ago!
Dave has decided to walk the mountain anyway. After Laura is settled, I sit in the lounge area with the tablet trying to get my Kobo to reset. No go - I think it is toasted! Grrrr! Then I text Dave to see how he's doing and start judging when I can leave to walk out a little way to meet him. Well, I'm on a road and I think I'm standing under the A3. I'm looking at the map for today and thinking the A3 is nowhere near the Caminho! A flurry of messages determine he has gone off the track somewhere and is in fact on the N201. Now I see a sign for Rumarigaes. OK, take the road south of there to the right to go to Cabanas. By the next message, I was getting worried and tried to have the guy downstairs drive out to find him but he couldn't get his head around the Ponte Romano on the map - no Ponte - Ponte is a qui - on the other side of Rubiaes! Thankfully, another message came - I am back on the Caminho at Cabanas! Finally, I can go out to meet him as he's only about 1 Km away. This is why our first Camino friends, Greg and Gayle, were so protective of Dave and his wandering attention!
We have spent another lovely evening over food and wine! The albergue owner drove us down to the restaurant run by his brother and mother and where he and his wife serve! Everyone works together here! They bring platters of food, we learn a little more Portuguese, and the lovely wife learns our dessert is called Crème Brulee - which we do not divulge isn't even English!
Laura - bless her - is gung ho to walk again in the morning. It's only16 Kms she announces! We realize tomorrow will be our last day in Portugal for awhile and feel sad. The country is beautiful and everyone we have met has been lovely, welcoming and patient with our pitiful attempts at the language
Day 4/5
Okay, now I have had my camino bubble popped with two days of walking that makes me kind of an expert on the whole thing right?? Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm sure there are many, many books out there on camino's, where to stay, what to pack blah blah blah, I feel I could now write a book on what NOT to do, strictly based on my very limited experience. So gather round children and let me spin you a tale or 2 (it's actually going to be a list, but whatever).
1) Number one, and most importantly do not, I repeat DO NOT prematurely shoot your wad, so to speak. I was so eager to get on the road I went way too fast too soon and I am paying for it in spades now. I started walking about an 11 minute kilometer for the first half of the first day, probably about 12 k, thinking to myself the whole time, this isn't so hard, and the end of the day I'm probably going to be all like, that was it?? Now what? Oooooh Laura, you sweet niave innocent little bird you. One cannot keep up that pace when one has not trained nor broken their boots in properly. You will get blisters all over our toes and it will feel like they are going to blow up. LEARN from me people! On day two I only made it about and hour and a half before I had to sit down and start cutting up my boots to relieve some of the pressure on my toes! I have also become an overnight expert in threading blisters, I currently have thread ends sticking out of 4 of my toes. Drain my pretties, drain!
2) Perhaps the second most important thing is to keep your deodorant in a readily accessible place, you will need it. If you are someone like me you will be sweating like a fat kid in Mexico on summer break in an hour, it also doesn't help it was 26 the first day and 27 the second with 100% humidity. On a side note about the heat, on day two dad and I finally met up with mom after 22 km, only to realize after we sat down we were suffering from mild dehydration and sun stroke. It never occurred to me we were that close to danger zone after I started shivering and shaking. Thank God dad said he was done for the day or I would have just kept on going too, oozing blisters and all. In all likelihood I would have just fallen over and passed out in a ditch somewhere. Which leads me to my next point.
3) For the love of god and all that's holy, break in your boots PROPERLY before leaving, and especially make sure they are actually going to work for you, or will end up pulling a Laura and having to spend 164 EUROS in new friggin boots. NOT impressed with myself what so ever, but the thought of having to put my feet in my old boots frankly makes me want to cry, so money well spent??
4) Use whatever you have to make things easier. For example, one very wise person pointed out my very expensive but light rain umbrella is now a sun umbrella. Like duh, probably should have figured that one out, I blame it on the dehydration... You will get super weird tan lines. From straps, shirts shoes, hats and sun glasses. Right now I look like a really random red, brown and white patchwork quilt. Awesome.
5) You will get chafing in the most random places. For example, the inside of the left arm, but not the right. It's from my pack strap, but why not on the other arm? Does it hang differently? Does it swing differently? Is it just plain fatter than the other one?? WTF?!
6) From what I understand, one of the ways this walk is different than the one my dad did previously is there are far fewer towns and places to stop along the way. So when you finally reach a rest stop where you can eat, it is exceedingly hard not to turn into a feral dog a the sight of food, scarfing it down as fast as you can for all you're worth. Remember, you are representing your country, it is not Canadian nor polite to bite or swat at people who come in between you are your food.
7) Perhaps I was wrong before, this could very well be the most important thing. DRINK SANGRIA!! I mean, like a lot of it! 1 Liter, 2... I'm talking like a personal serving here, none if this sissy by the glass garbage. Thank heavens both my parents are light weights and I get to just "finish it up"
I think that is all for now at least. We have a rest day in Barcelos, land of the painted rooster apparently. I have spent a minimal amount of time walking and maximum amount of time tending to my feet. We've got a 24 km day on the docket for tomorrow I think, so hopefully my healing blisters and new boots will be up or it!
Wish me luck!
Dart the Younger
1) Number one, and most importantly do not, I repeat DO NOT prematurely shoot your wad, so to speak. I was so eager to get on the road I went way too fast too soon and I am paying for it in spades now. I started walking about an 11 minute kilometer for the first half of the first day, probably about 12 k, thinking to myself the whole time, this isn't so hard, and the end of the day I'm probably going to be all like, that was it?? Now what? Oooooh Laura, you sweet niave innocent little bird you. One cannot keep up that pace when one has not trained nor broken their boots in properly. You will get blisters all over our toes and it will feel like they are going to blow up. LEARN from me people! On day two I only made it about and hour and a half before I had to sit down and start cutting up my boots to relieve some of the pressure on my toes! I have also become an overnight expert in threading blisters, I currently have thread ends sticking out of 4 of my toes. Drain my pretties, drain!
2) Perhaps the second most important thing is to keep your deodorant in a readily accessible place, you will need it. If you are someone like me you will be sweating like a fat kid in Mexico on summer break in an hour, it also doesn't help it was 26 the first day and 27 the second with 100% humidity. On a side note about the heat, on day two dad and I finally met up with mom after 22 km, only to realize after we sat down we were suffering from mild dehydration and sun stroke. It never occurred to me we were that close to danger zone after I started shivering and shaking. Thank God dad said he was done for the day or I would have just kept on going too, oozing blisters and all. In all likelihood I would have just fallen over and passed out in a ditch somewhere. Which leads me to my next point.
3) For the love of god and all that's holy, break in your boots PROPERLY before leaving, and especially make sure they are actually going to work for you, or will end up pulling a Laura and having to spend 164 EUROS in new friggin boots. NOT impressed with myself what so ever, but the thought of having to put my feet in my old boots frankly makes me want to cry, so money well spent??
4) Use whatever you have to make things easier. For example, one very wise person pointed out my very expensive but light rain umbrella is now a sun umbrella. Like duh, probably should have figured that one out, I blame it on the dehydration... You will get super weird tan lines. From straps, shirts shoes, hats and sun glasses. Right now I look like a really random red, brown and white patchwork quilt. Awesome.
5) You will get chafing in the most random places. For example, the inside of the left arm, but not the right. It's from my pack strap, but why not on the other arm? Does it hang differently? Does it swing differently? Is it just plain fatter than the other one?? WTF?!
6) From what I understand, one of the ways this walk is different than the one my dad did previously is there are far fewer towns and places to stop along the way. So when you finally reach a rest stop where you can eat, it is exceedingly hard not to turn into a feral dog a the sight of food, scarfing it down as fast as you can for all you're worth. Remember, you are representing your country, it is not Canadian nor polite to bite or swat at people who come in between you are your food.
7) Perhaps I was wrong before, this could very well be the most important thing. DRINK SANGRIA!! I mean, like a lot of it! 1 Liter, 2... I'm talking like a personal serving here, none if this sissy by the glass garbage. Thank heavens both my parents are light weights and I get to just "finish it up"
I think that is all for now at least. We have a rest day in Barcelos, land of the painted rooster apparently. I have spent a minimal amount of time walking and maximum amount of time tending to my feet. We've got a 24 km day on the docket for tomorrow I think, so hopefully my healing blisters and new boots will be up or it!
Wish me luck!
Dart the Younger
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Camino Encounters
Day 2 - Vila do conde to Barcelos - we had finally arrived at Antonio's restaurant in Pedro Ferada. so thankful to arrive and feeling somewhat light headed, not even thinking perhaps dehydration or mild sunstroke might be lurking, as L had commented.
Antonio is one of those special people along the way who find themselves blessed with being completely in the right spot at the right time - which time nay well have been years and years already. he smiled a big warming welcome to laura and I as we slunk and dropped into his cool restaurant. A man for whom the word tranquile is wholly fitting. not rushing about trying to make things happen, simply greeting us and allowing time to decompress us and the right time to serve to become apparent.
after a wonderful refreshing lunch and gulping down 2 L of aqua, we were contemplating our next move. after he had arranged a taxi to come, he told us of a free pilgrim's medical clinic in Barcelos, drew on the map where to find it, several blocks from our hotel Baquiero. being very concerned about L's feet, off I went to find the clinic. got to the community centre gymnasium wherein I finally found someone who didn't know of any clinic in his building. but just cross the road, turn left there is another walk-in clinic. OK this is interesting... find the clinic and the young woman on the desk spoke a little English; explained what I thought I was looking for, no not here. confirm that with her colleagues - no idea what you're talking about! "Oh wait, maybe you mean this clinic over at St Anthony's. just go left then straight then ... Ah too hard, let me take you there", which she then proceeded to do; several blocks over and through courtyards and there is green St Anthony's another walk-in clinic. and blessed us on our Way.
the front desk staff would be like our intake crew at a hospital; after being handed over to the one that spoke more English, again explained why I was there, hoping to find someone to advise on L's feet, as I was most concerned for their well-being, (and not allowed to ask). after explaining again, the same perplexed nods no, don't know of such. BUT I will phone around - so he called the Pilgrim's office, the local tourism office and several others the staff might consider possibles, all to no avail. Am I really surprised? no not at all; followed by the staff's offer to see L that night at the clinic if she could come by 7 - they would be happy to do whatever they could! just about as good as getting the sought-after solution.
walked back to the hotel marvelling at the goodness and kind generosity of people simply in response to someone needing help. made me feel very happy, although not much good for L's feet and W's sore leg!
wondering back - yes I sometimes do such a thing - walked past the hospital just as a funeral procession complete with glass-sided rear carrying coffin for viewing and followed by those in attendance pulled out from the hospital. as the vehicle indicated Bombeiros, I paused to stand, removed my hat and watched as those grieving slowly took that last stroll with their loved one. Brings tears to my eyes once again as I write, those moments being still close in my memory. I think the deceased might have been a fireman - a bombeiro - as the honor guard consisted to two men in uniform with brilliantly shining helmets.
stopped in at another - always another - chapel, this one actually open (which is more often than not, not the case). someone more restrained in its interior finishing than those we see in Spain; a possibly full-size statue of Jesus to the right. as I stood taking it in, a woman stopped by to perform her daily acknowledgements - she did not stay to pray - and I was touched by her gentle caress of Jesus feet as she passed by. the simplicity and intimacy reminded me of something we might do to our children as they are in proximity, a touch on the arm , shoulder, a stroke of the face, simply to acknowledge, express appreciation and love for them without words. Very powerful.
Dave
Antonio is one of those special people along the way who find themselves blessed with being completely in the right spot at the right time - which time nay well have been years and years already. he smiled a big warming welcome to laura and I as we slunk and dropped into his cool restaurant. A man for whom the word tranquile is wholly fitting. not rushing about trying to make things happen, simply greeting us and allowing time to decompress us and the right time to serve to become apparent.
after a wonderful refreshing lunch and gulping down 2 L of aqua, we were contemplating our next move. after he had arranged a taxi to come, he told us of a free pilgrim's medical clinic in Barcelos, drew on the map where to find it, several blocks from our hotel Baquiero. being very concerned about L's feet, off I went to find the clinic. got to the community centre gymnasium wherein I finally found someone who didn't know of any clinic in his building. but just cross the road, turn left there is another walk-in clinic. OK this is interesting... find the clinic and the young woman on the desk spoke a little English; explained what I thought I was looking for, no not here. confirm that with her colleagues - no idea what you're talking about! "Oh wait, maybe you mean this clinic over at St Anthony's. just go left then straight then ... Ah too hard, let me take you there", which she then proceeded to do; several blocks over and through courtyards and there is green St Anthony's another walk-in clinic. and blessed us on our Way.
the front desk staff would be like our intake crew at a hospital; after being handed over to the one that spoke more English, again explained why I was there, hoping to find someone to advise on L's feet, as I was most concerned for their well-being, (and not allowed to ask). after explaining again, the same perplexed nods no, don't know of such. BUT I will phone around - so he called the Pilgrim's office, the local tourism office and several others the staff might consider possibles, all to no avail. Am I really surprised? no not at all; followed by the staff's offer to see L that night at the clinic if she could come by 7 - they would be happy to do whatever they could! just about as good as getting the sought-after solution.
walked back to the hotel marvelling at the goodness and kind generosity of people simply in response to someone needing help. made me feel very happy, although not much good for L's feet and W's sore leg!
wondering back - yes I sometimes do such a thing - walked past the hospital just as a funeral procession complete with glass-sided rear carrying coffin for viewing and followed by those in attendance pulled out from the hospital. as the vehicle indicated Bombeiros, I paused to stand, removed my hat and watched as those grieving slowly took that last stroll with their loved one. Brings tears to my eyes once again as I write, those moments being still close in my memory. I think the deceased might have been a fireman - a bombeiro - as the honor guard consisted to two men in uniform with brilliantly shining helmets.
stopped in at another - always another - chapel, this one actually open (which is more often than not, not the case). someone more restrained in its interior finishing than those we see in Spain; a possibly full-size statue of Jesus to the right. as I stood taking it in, a woman stopped by to perform her daily acknowledgements - she did not stay to pray - and I was touched by her gentle caress of Jesus feet as she passed by. the simplicity and intimacy reminded me of something we might do to our children as they are in proximity, a touch on the arm , shoulder, a stroke of the face, simply to acknowledge, express appreciation and love for them without words. Very powerful.
Dave
September 1 Vila do Conde
The sun is shining; the waning moon is still hanging low in the sky; a flock of pigeons is flying formation outside over the rooftop patio where hangs the hotel laundry; the suitcase is downstairs waiting for Tuitrans to pick it up for transport to Barcelos and my two pilgrims left just before 8:00 to continue the journey!
Yesterday was a very long day! A metro train ride took us out of central Porto to the bridge (there's always a bridge!) leading to the seawall and boardwalk which stretches all the way to Vila do Conde. Laura has started out with gusto! By the time we reach the seawall, Dave and I are already overheated so, time to adjust clothing and rearrange packs. "You guys are killing me!", quips Laura.
But a moment is needed to leave a little of Graham at the beach - he loved sand!
Not far into the day, the leg I knew might give me problems has started to complain. Fortunately, it is not the IT band stuff which my physios, Dave and Tish, diligently worked on with me to prepare for the walking. No, this is the back of my leg - an area we had just started to concentrate on. More of those one sided glute squeeze lift the leg things must be in order!
Thank heaven for taxis and short distances! A couple of hours were spent pleasantly at a café waiting for the pilgrims to arrive. The trouble with short distances is being able to see the next destination "just up there" at the mouth of the river! It soon becomes apparent that another 49 minutes of walking might be required and this means closer to 90 for me. Thank heaven for taxis!
Hotel Wenceslau - with lovely friendly staff with limited English (we are so spoiled) but we muddle along! There is no dinner here but we're directed to go around the corner - "It's very good"! Around the corner is the Casa Wenceslau! And they did not disappoint. Ah, I am back! The bread appears, the bowl of olives and two litres of their specialty sangria - white with lots of fruit and sparkling wine. Very good and needless to say, all gone at the end of the evening. Delicious meals - plates of the day - steak for Laura and veal for Dave and I. These are definitely not the Pilgrim's Menu!
So, since it is 10:00 now, I can get coffee around the corner and then make my way to the meeting spot we've planned at Pereira. Bom Caminho!
Yesterday was a very long day! A metro train ride took us out of central Porto to the bridge (there's always a bridge!) leading to the seawall and boardwalk which stretches all the way to Vila do Conde. Laura has started out with gusto! By the time we reach the seawall, Dave and I are already overheated so, time to adjust clothing and rearrange packs. "You guys are killing me!", quips Laura.
But a moment is needed to leave a little of Graham at the beach - he loved sand!
Not far into the day, the leg I knew might give me problems has started to complain. Fortunately, it is not the IT band stuff which my physios, Dave and Tish, diligently worked on with me to prepare for the walking. No, this is the back of my leg - an area we had just started to concentrate on. More of those one sided glute squeeze lift the leg things must be in order!
Thank heaven for taxis and short distances! A couple of hours were spent pleasantly at a café waiting for the pilgrims to arrive. The trouble with short distances is being able to see the next destination "just up there" at the mouth of the river! It soon becomes apparent that another 49 minutes of walking might be required and this means closer to 90 for me. Thank heaven for taxis!
Hotel Wenceslau - with lovely friendly staff with limited English (we are so spoiled) but we muddle along! There is no dinner here but we're directed to go around the corner - "It's very good"! Around the corner is the Casa Wenceslau! And they did not disappoint. Ah, I am back! The bread appears, the bowl of olives and two litres of their specialty sangria - white with lots of fruit and sparkling wine. Very good and needless to say, all gone at the end of the evening. Delicious meals - plates of the day - steak for Laura and veal for Dave and I. These are definitely not the Pilgrim's Menu!
So, since it is 10:00 now, I can get coffee around the corner and then make my way to the meeting spot we've planned at Pereira. Bom Caminho!
Monday, August 31, 2015
Day 4
I love Sunday's in Europe. Regardless of religious affiliation it really is a day of rest. Nearly everything is closed save cafe's, some restaurants and of course souvenier shops. People just lounge around savoring their coffee, just sit on their front stoop chatting with neighbours, laundry is hung out to dry completely changing the appearance of the building to a billowing mess of clothes and sheets. It's so calm, I wish we could mimic something more like that in Canada. We had a pretty leisurly day ourselves, finished the bus tour, had a lovely wander through Portos's biggest gardens, Serralves, found a bunch of acorns, saw an olive tree up close and one MASSIVE bull. Finished off the sight seeing with a boat ride along the Douro River, I'm pretty sure all of us almost fell asleep, but for the time my eyes were actually open it was beautiful view!
The last order of business we really needed to do was take a picture in front of the cathedral where we picked up our credentials to commemorate the start of our journey, easy right? Sure.... On the dock where we got off the boat we could easity see cathedral, so just go in that general direction, good plan. Ufortuantely easier said than done, or rather easier said than properly executed. As I trudged up one of the many hills to be trudged, mom and dad fell behind, and here I started to take some short cuts. I should have remembered, there is no such thing as a short cut in Europe, there is only taking the same amount of time to get somewhere just in a different way going down streets you probably shouldn't. The buildings are so close together and so tall it is easy to loose your mark, on top of that there is a church on like every second hill top all wth crosses on the roof so its easy to get mixed up! Here I am "well if I go down this street it is going in the general direction, lets do that", clearly a mistake as I start going downhill again, MAN! Thank God for iPhones, I was thinking my parents were getting worried where I was, so booking up the hill to the cathedral I got a text from dad, went to the wrong church, on our way now. Hey! Me too! If you're going to be lost, as least you can all be lost together.
Eventually the Dart party all made it to the same place, the painted sign on the side of a low rock wall with the word Santiago in yellow with an arrow. Seems as though we are finally finding our way. Took some pictures and met a girl from Australia who will be starting out tomorrow as well and going a similar route. My first pilgrim encounter! I'm gonna be one of those!
Dinner was a late night but tasty affair, just went across the street to a tapas place and had some simple bread, cheese and meat plate. Dad finally worked up the courage to try the Portugal's own brand of wine, Vinho Verde, which we had been warned about in a not entirely positive way. Give it a try, we were told, just so you can say you tried it and then move on! Yep, I can now understand the sentiment. It's not that it's gross per say, it's just a very strong, particular kind of wine, and let's just leave it at that!
Off to bed now, big day tomorrow of course! I have to admit I am a bit nervous, but I noticed today I am just itching to get on the road and start walking!
Until tomorrow!!
Dart the Younger
The last order of business we really needed to do was take a picture in front of the cathedral where we picked up our credentials to commemorate the start of our journey, easy right? Sure.... On the dock where we got off the boat we could easity see cathedral, so just go in that general direction, good plan. Ufortuantely easier said than done, or rather easier said than properly executed. As I trudged up one of the many hills to be trudged, mom and dad fell behind, and here I started to take some short cuts. I should have remembered, there is no such thing as a short cut in Europe, there is only taking the same amount of time to get somewhere just in a different way going down streets you probably shouldn't. The buildings are so close together and so tall it is easy to loose your mark, on top of that there is a church on like every second hill top all wth crosses on the roof so its easy to get mixed up! Here I am "well if I go down this street it is going in the general direction, lets do that", clearly a mistake as I start going downhill again, MAN! Thank God for iPhones, I was thinking my parents were getting worried where I was, so booking up the hill to the cathedral I got a text from dad, went to the wrong church, on our way now. Hey! Me too! If you're going to be lost, as least you can all be lost together.
Eventually the Dart party all made it to the same place, the painted sign on the side of a low rock wall with the word Santiago in yellow with an arrow. Seems as though we are finally finding our way. Took some pictures and met a girl from Australia who will be starting out tomorrow as well and going a similar route. My first pilgrim encounter! I'm gonna be one of those!
Dinner was a late night but tasty affair, just went across the street to a tapas place and had some simple bread, cheese and meat plate. Dad finally worked up the courage to try the Portugal's own brand of wine, Vinho Verde, which we had been warned about in a not entirely positive way. Give it a try, we were told, just so you can say you tried it and then move on! Yep, I can now understand the sentiment. It's not that it's gross per say, it's just a very strong, particular kind of wine, and let's just leave it at that!
Off to bed now, big day tomorrow of course! I have to admit I am a bit nervous, but I noticed today I am just itching to get on the road and start walking!
Until tomorrow!!
Dart the Younger
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Day 3
For those of you who don't know, and I for one didn't, Porto is a party town. Last night I lay my head down finally at about 9:30, only to be woken up at 11:30 to blaring music. Now don't get me wrong, the music was great, the band was super tight and the woman's voice was awesome, however being woken up out of a dead sleep to base vibrations through your floor and your window shaking from the same is a little disconcerting. Okay I said to myself, it will be quiet in just a couple hours then you can get back to sleep. 2 am rolls around, sigh of relief. Wait, 2:05, 2:15...2:30. Crap! I forgot a lot of bars in Europe close at 3 am. Well that's okay, it's almost 3. Finally the band is finished, only for me to hear another bar just a bit further down which is unfortunately playing trance club music stuff, also exceedingly loudly. At this point you should know it turns out I am actually turning 87 in two weeks time, not 30, and have no tolerance to such loud nonsense that early in the morning! Continuing on, it all gets shut down just after 6 in the morning, now time to make up some sleep, finally drift off just in time for the people to start getting breakfast started in the room next to mine. They are not quiet. Let's face it Dart, you lost this battle, just get up and get ready for the day!
Last year I took an allergy sensitivity test and it turns out I really shouldn't eat any kind of dairy, or any kind of grain except oatmeal. I sat down to breakfast and had a plate of bread, butter and spreadable cheese put in front of me. Of course. Well, this will make for one interesting uncomfortable gut day... Let's DO this! No regrets people, the croissant went down pretty darn quick! This whole eating thing might be a challenge. Well, actually it won't, of COURSE I'm going to eat everything and just suffer the consequences later!
On the docket for the day: pick up our "pilgrim credentials" from the main cathedral, go on a hop on hop off tour, and drink some port. Fantastic. Not 5 minutes out the door we walk into a street market, and I do love a good market, so many things to buy! Five earings and a necklace with the local design which signifies love and wealth later (the girl I bought the earings from told me the meaning of these to which my response was love AND wealth?? What more could you need??) we were on our way again. With dad as navigator we make our way to a cathedral, unfortunately not the right one, even when I told him I wasn't sure the way we were going was right, the nice young man there pointed us in the right direction. A couple minutes later dad looks a bit unsure of the direction and I have to take over the map, there is a strong chance we may not get there before it closes... (Yes I am exaggerating) . So here we are walking along, one of the roads doesn't quite match up but I know we are going in the right direction, dad just randomly pops into a tourist information place, the next thing I know were he's getting directions from someone!! How rude! And where did they send us? The same way we were already going! Rude father. Rude. You should probably know I am literally writing this at 5:30 in the morning waiting for the trance to stop so he has no way to defend himself. He can do that later. Anyway, make it to the cathedral and a bored man gives us our credentials for a mere euro fifty each, how exciting! What are these credentials you ask? We get a stamp along the way at each town we hit to prove we actually did the walk.
Next up we hit the bus tour, Porto really is a beautiful city. Ups and downs, mosaic tile on everything, elaborate bridges. Beautiful. The highlight of the tour? The free Port tastings of course! Oh port, you fortified wine, you fortify me. Entering the first place, dad is already making friends with the front desk girl, she was trying to give him a lesson on the proper way to say the 'O' in Ola. Apparently he didn't *quite* get it, although she was very encouraging about it! By the time we left, her parting remark to my dad was "You sir, I will no forget". I have a feeling that will be something of a trend along the way! Right, the port, what can you say? Delicious! I tried a rose, which is apparently quite new, and a white, which I didn't know even existed before. If you haven't tried it I highly recommend. Wait, I don't think it's sold in Canada, I'll bring some back for you, de nada (you're welcome). The second place had a bit if a restaurant and a Fado singer so mom and dad made themselves comfortable, but what's got two thumbs and was fading fast? This girl right here, I needed a nap. A half hour walk and almost 200 stairs later I was back in my little closet.
At an appropriate Portugal dinner time we went in search of food, unfortunately the restaurant the guidebook suggested didn't seem to exist any more, so rolled the dice and tried a random place. Alas we rolled wrong. Bad? Poorly? Either way it didn't live up to our previous dinner but you can't win them all!
Well, it's about 6:30 in the am, that means the trance is over and I have about an hour before the breakfast ladies start doing their thing, so with that dear friends, good morning??
Dart the Younger
Last year I took an allergy sensitivity test and it turns out I really shouldn't eat any kind of dairy, or any kind of grain except oatmeal. I sat down to breakfast and had a plate of bread, butter and spreadable cheese put in front of me. Of course. Well, this will make for one interesting uncomfortable gut day... Let's DO this! No regrets people, the croissant went down pretty darn quick! This whole eating thing might be a challenge. Well, actually it won't, of COURSE I'm going to eat everything and just suffer the consequences later!
On the docket for the day: pick up our "pilgrim credentials" from the main cathedral, go on a hop on hop off tour, and drink some port. Fantastic. Not 5 minutes out the door we walk into a street market, and I do love a good market, so many things to buy! Five earings and a necklace with the local design which signifies love and wealth later (the girl I bought the earings from told me the meaning of these to which my response was love AND wealth?? What more could you need??) we were on our way again. With dad as navigator we make our way to a cathedral, unfortunately not the right one, even when I told him I wasn't sure the way we were going was right, the nice young man there pointed us in the right direction. A couple minutes later dad looks a bit unsure of the direction and I have to take over the map, there is a strong chance we may not get there before it closes... (Yes I am exaggerating) . So here we are walking along, one of the roads doesn't quite match up but I know we are going in the right direction, dad just randomly pops into a tourist information place, the next thing I know were he's getting directions from someone!! How rude! And where did they send us? The same way we were already going! Rude father. Rude. You should probably know I am literally writing this at 5:30 in the morning waiting for the trance to stop so he has no way to defend himself. He can do that later. Anyway, make it to the cathedral and a bored man gives us our credentials for a mere euro fifty each, how exciting! What are these credentials you ask? We get a stamp along the way at each town we hit to prove we actually did the walk.
Next up we hit the bus tour, Porto really is a beautiful city. Ups and downs, mosaic tile on everything, elaborate bridges. Beautiful. The highlight of the tour? The free Port tastings of course! Oh port, you fortified wine, you fortify me. Entering the first place, dad is already making friends with the front desk girl, she was trying to give him a lesson on the proper way to say the 'O' in Ola. Apparently he didn't *quite* get it, although she was very encouraging about it! By the time we left, her parting remark to my dad was "You sir, I will no forget". I have a feeling that will be something of a trend along the way! Right, the port, what can you say? Delicious! I tried a rose, which is apparently quite new, and a white, which I didn't know even existed before. If you haven't tried it I highly recommend. Wait, I don't think it's sold in Canada, I'll bring some back for you, de nada (you're welcome). The second place had a bit if a restaurant and a Fado singer so mom and dad made themselves comfortable, but what's got two thumbs and was fading fast? This girl right here, I needed a nap. A half hour walk and almost 200 stairs later I was back in my little closet.
At an appropriate Portugal dinner time we went in search of food, unfortunately the restaurant the guidebook suggested didn't seem to exist any more, so rolled the dice and tried a random place. Alas we rolled wrong. Bad? Poorly? Either way it didn't live up to our previous dinner but you can't win them all!
Well, it's about 6:30 in the am, that means the trance is over and I have about an hour before the breakfast ladies start doing their thing, so with that dear friends, good morning??
Dart the Younger
Day 1/2
When one of my patients asked me how I was going to start my vacation, if I was going to go out for dinner and drinks with friends, I probably should have said, yes, that is exactly what I am doing... However lets be honest, all I really wanted to do was go home and drink a bottle of wine and eat some chocolate, and said as much. It was glorious and most satisfying. Besides, I was already packed, had cleaned everything I need to clean, and as it is the first real vacation I have taken in four years I believe it was the perfect kick off! All I had to worry about was winning the impending bet with my dad...
Earlier that week I loaded up my pack to get a better idea how much it would weigh. Zipped everything up and slung it on my back, walked around a little bit thought to myself, holy crap, this thing is LIGHT!! Something I would never having anticipated, I immediately texted dad asking if he would like to make a little wager, who's ever pack is heavier looses and has to buy lunch in Amsterdam during our lay over. I must win.
Jade was kind enough to drag us all to the airport, and was subsequently around to witness a miracle. My parents made it out of the house and to the airport exactly on the timeline I had scheduled. Even though their bags were pretty much ready to go when we showed up I will take FULL credit for this! It's because Dart the Younger was at the helm, I run a tight ship and give no quarter, I mean, we'll see who's waiting for who when we have to start waking up at 7 in the morning (me, they will be waiting for me) because who in God's name wakes up that early on vacation, I don't even wake up that early for work! Anyway, made it to the check in desk and waited with bated breath for the results. My pack came in at 16.7 pounds and dads was 18.4 pounds. I WIN!!!
Now he will say things like his pack is bigger so weighs more anyway, and he had his hiking boots in there and I didn't... First, his bag isn't much bigger, and there is no way my boots weigh almost 3 pounds, so blah blah blah, I WIN!! I'm sure my victory lunch will be delicious!
On the to plane we go and take off without incident or real delay, the only problem being a little brat of a 2 year old who did not shut up for 8 full hours. The stupid kid didn't even take a nap! After six hours my patience was starting to become non-existent and was wishing for and airlock to open and suck the kid right off the plane. Everybody can save your gasps of horror and judgement, you KNOW you've all thought the same thing on a flight, I'm just saying it. Arrived in sunny Amsterdam for a six hour lay-over, first order of business, coffee. Found a nice little table in the sun where we hunkered down for awhile, Graham joining us on the table and enjoyed not being on a plane. I took the advice of my one 'Funcle Dave' and had a drink before 10 am, my dad raised his eyebrows a little at this to which my response was, it's like 1 in the morning our time, and Dave TOLD me I had to! Who am I not to do what I'm told?
Portugal is wonderfully warm and humid and just lovely. We had the most entertaining cab driver from the airport, my dad being his typical charming self and making friends immediately won her over by asking "how do you say..." in Portuguese? She was more than happy to assist in his education and after like five tries of him saying whatever, "Yes!! perfecto!" She was a riot, but she won my heart over by not only playing ABBA in her car, but singing along to it as well! Ahhhh Europe!
She dropped us of at our little bed and breakfast with a laugh, I'll never forget "you have to say bom dia (good morning) with a big smile on your face, like you are greeting the day!" Bless her happy little heart.
Now, as I've said earlier, this is my first real vacation in 4 years, and it's been 4 years since being back in Europe, the things you forget so quickly, such as, the size of the rooms, mostly the bathrooms. I popped into my parent's room before heading out for dinner, my dad "So, is your bathroom as small as ours?" My response, "um, no. It's smaller". I was awarded a shocked expression. "Well what does your room look like?" They have a double room and is already pretty small, so when I said it was pretty much the same, just smaller, another shocked expression. Remember all, it's Europe, it can always get smaller. But the rooms are cozy and I can see some beautiful architecture from my window, ain't too shabby for this girl.
Our first dinner in Portugal set the standard pretty high, on the suggestion of the front desk person we went and searched out Abadia, at 6:30 in the evening I might add, so yes, we were pretty much the first and only people in the restaurant. Holy balls was the food ever good! I had the salmon for 1, and the waiter shows up with literally a platter of food and starts serving me (I felt so Downton Abby) then just sets the rest on the table. I assumed he made a mistake and brought the salmon for 2, so I asked, no, he said, for one. So much food, and all for me! Mom had the veal which was also huge and looked like a slab of steak and dad and a fish/egg/potato thing, all washed down with some delicious wine that was a chardonnay but not a chardonnay. As we didn't get a chance to have a proper lunch, sorry, my victory lunch, in Amsterdam this was a more than adequate substitute.
With our belly's full and jet lagged to the nine's we made our way back to the hotel, and that dear friends is the end to the first days of travel
Boa noite
Dart the Younger
Earlier that week I loaded up my pack to get a better idea how much it would weigh. Zipped everything up and slung it on my back, walked around a little bit thought to myself, holy crap, this thing is LIGHT!! Something I would never having anticipated, I immediately texted dad asking if he would like to make a little wager, who's ever pack is heavier looses and has to buy lunch in Amsterdam during our lay over. I must win.
Jade was kind enough to drag us all to the airport, and was subsequently around to witness a miracle. My parents made it out of the house and to the airport exactly on the timeline I had scheduled. Even though their bags were pretty much ready to go when we showed up I will take FULL credit for this! It's because Dart the Younger was at the helm, I run a tight ship and give no quarter, I mean, we'll see who's waiting for who when we have to start waking up at 7 in the morning (me, they will be waiting for me) because who in God's name wakes up that early on vacation, I don't even wake up that early for work! Anyway, made it to the check in desk and waited with bated breath for the results. My pack came in at 16.7 pounds and dads was 18.4 pounds. I WIN!!!
Now he will say things like his pack is bigger so weighs more anyway, and he had his hiking boots in there and I didn't... First, his bag isn't much bigger, and there is no way my boots weigh almost 3 pounds, so blah blah blah, I WIN!! I'm sure my victory lunch will be delicious!
On the to plane we go and take off without incident or real delay, the only problem being a little brat of a 2 year old who did not shut up for 8 full hours. The stupid kid didn't even take a nap! After six hours my patience was starting to become non-existent and was wishing for and airlock to open and suck the kid right off the plane. Everybody can save your gasps of horror and judgement, you KNOW you've all thought the same thing on a flight, I'm just saying it. Arrived in sunny Amsterdam for a six hour lay-over, first order of business, coffee. Found a nice little table in the sun where we hunkered down for awhile, Graham joining us on the table and enjoyed not being on a plane. I took the advice of my one 'Funcle Dave' and had a drink before 10 am, my dad raised his eyebrows a little at this to which my response was, it's like 1 in the morning our time, and Dave TOLD me I had to! Who am I not to do what I'm told?
Portugal is wonderfully warm and humid and just lovely. We had the most entertaining cab driver from the airport, my dad being his typical charming self and making friends immediately won her over by asking "how do you say..." in Portuguese? She was more than happy to assist in his education and after like five tries of him saying whatever, "Yes!! perfecto!" She was a riot, but she won my heart over by not only playing ABBA in her car, but singing along to it as well! Ahhhh Europe!
She dropped us of at our little bed and breakfast with a laugh, I'll never forget "you have to say bom dia (good morning) with a big smile on your face, like you are greeting the day!" Bless her happy little heart.
Now, as I've said earlier, this is my first real vacation in 4 years, and it's been 4 years since being back in Europe, the things you forget so quickly, such as, the size of the rooms, mostly the bathrooms. I popped into my parent's room before heading out for dinner, my dad "So, is your bathroom as small as ours?" My response, "um, no. It's smaller". I was awarded a shocked expression. "Well what does your room look like?" They have a double room and is already pretty small, so when I said it was pretty much the same, just smaller, another shocked expression. Remember all, it's Europe, it can always get smaller. But the rooms are cozy and I can see some beautiful architecture from my window, ain't too shabby for this girl.
Our first dinner in Portugal set the standard pretty high, on the suggestion of the front desk person we went and searched out Abadia, at 6:30 in the evening I might add, so yes, we were pretty much the first and only people in the restaurant. Holy balls was the food ever good! I had the salmon for 1, and the waiter shows up with literally a platter of food and starts serving me (I felt so Downton Abby) then just sets the rest on the table. I assumed he made a mistake and brought the salmon for 2, so I asked, no, he said, for one. So much food, and all for me! Mom had the veal which was also huge and looked like a slab of steak and dad and a fish/egg/potato thing, all washed down with some delicious wine that was a chardonnay but not a chardonnay. As we didn't get a chance to have a proper lunch, sorry, my victory lunch, in Amsterdam this was a more than adequate substitute.
With our belly's full and jet lagged to the nine's we made our way back to the hotel, and that dear friends is the end to the first days of travel
Boa noite
Dart the Younger
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