What a day. No sleep last night. Tossed and turned all night. Probably worried about my train connection after my Dutch fiasco. No worries though as I made it fine. Except for the weather. Believe it or not it is 8 C here in Roncesvalles, high winds and pouring rain. In fact it has been raining now for 4 days. And it is a hard rain, and wet and cold.
“Come to Spain” they said.
“You will love it” they said.
“ I came, I saw and I am drenched….” I said.
I feel like this guy.
Lourdes was very nice. Beautiful in fact. But they do have homeless there. But they are more refined I think. Take this guy. He was hanging outside the train station. He was listening to some tunes on his iPhone and doing yoga. He was prepping himself before heading out to rip people off. Oh well.
The trip down from Lourdes was uneventful. When the sun did shine the countryside was beautiful. Green and very lush. Small towns and villages were nestled among the rolling hills of the Pyrenees. A beautiful part of France. But somewhat affluent. In other areas of France buildings and houses appear dirty, old and tired. But not here. Clean and refined with a Spanish influence. This is also Basque country. Fiercely independent. Freedom signs dot the landscape on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees.
I arrived safely in Roncesvalles but very tired. I am sitting in a cafe (bar) writing this. Spanish beer is very sweet. But good. I haven’t met a beer yet that wasn,t. And I need the carbs. That is my excuse anyway.
I bet you didn’t know that Roncesvalles has a storied past. When Charlemaigne came from Aachen Germany to kick moorish butt in Spain he promised the locals in Pamplona that he wouldn,t damage the ramparts. He lied. So the Spanish residents were angry and they attacked Charlamaigne,s rearguard when he was leaving Spain via the Ronceau pass. The locals attacked him at Roncesvalles. Charlies’s fav general, Roland, was killed and he is buried here. Check out the song of Roland. It is famous. Now all of this occurred in 778 ad. Interesting? You bet.
So I am here now with 280 other pilgrims. I am not sure I am going to like this. Too many people. And we all emit that green hueish aura that comes with being a pilgrim. Yes we stink. But when everyone stinks nobody stinks. Ah, the life of a pilgrim. Try it and come to Spain….I said.
Great visit to my late wife,s home. Saw my extended family in Hoensbroek, which is in the south of the Netherlands. Only niece and nephews still alive. The wife of my brother in law died 6 May at 84 then he died 2 days later 08 May at 86 and then my other brother in law died 1 month later in Amsterdam. Holy cow. Damn. Sorry I am not supposed to swear (read my pilgrim post part one and two)
Ik spent 4 days there then took the train to Lourdes. All my fears came to past as the first train was cancelled. I could not find the swear words to say in dutch so I found some choice English words to say. A cab driver offered to take me to Maastricht for 85 euros but I told him no way Jose (he was spanish I think). I found a bus to take me from Heerlen to Maastricht but the damage had been done. All of my connections were kaput (German not Dutch) but a nice lady from Liege (lauk in Dutch) helped me so I said “danku wel” and she said “your welcome.” Whoa. Do I look like a stupid Canadian I thought. Perhaps my sask roughriders hat gave me away.
I made it through the madness of Paris at Montparness Station with thousands of mes amis de Francais. The French were not protesting today for a one hour work week with a 30 minute lunch break and two 15 minute coffee breaks. Mon dieu I thought. So with one hand covering my wallet, another over my documents and my other two hands holding on for dear sacre blue – don,t worry, i am a pilgrim after all – life I made it to my platform. I boarded the train vitesse, tres vitesse, and rocketed south to Lourdes at 310 kilometers per hour. I kid you not. We in Canada may think we are sooo advanced but we are not. They are so civilized here that they still smoke on the terraces and they actually….talk.
Mon dieu. My french gets better. Pardon, je suis un pellerin after all.
Now in Lourdes. I wäs here 5 years ago after my French walk – the way of Vezelay. Lourdes is a beautiful place in the French side of the Pyrenees. It is the site of the marion apparitions to St Bernadette de Soubirous – non not the auto monsieur. Mary appeared to Bernadette 18 times in 1858. Every day since 1858 they have an evening procession to honour the Blessed Virgin and praise Jesus by honouring his mother – just as we should always honour our own mothers. It is a site to behold. I will go there tonight. It is the number one pilgrimage site for Catholics after the Vatican. After the apparitions Mary asked that a chapel be built on the site. Here is that chapel.
You may not believe. Some protestants say it is demonic. But what is demonic about love. I dont mean to pontificate. As Saint Thomas Aquinas said: “ if you believe in God no explanation is required. If you don’t believe in God no explanation would suffice.” It is a matter of faith and it is a relationship that is personal. I am just glad and happy that I can come here. There are thousands here living for hope. What is wrong with that in this crazy world we live in.
Here is where I am staying.
Top floor, second from the right. I stayed here 5 years ago. Basic but clean. 35 euros with breakfast although the baguette is like biting into concrete. Mon dieu. Black coffee and orange juice. Prices here are great compared to Victoriá.
But who would have frites in a sandwich?
Tomorrow I leave for Roncesvalles, Navarra Spain and the start of my long walk and Pilgrimage. Did you know that there is a sector in Toronto named Roncesvalles? Well there is and it is the Ukrainian part of that city.
I apologize in advance for any typos as I am forced to use an Ipad. I use whatever grammar is easiest so you may see me use an apostrophe instead of the possessive. I am a pilgrim so I must say sorry. In advance. I will not swear and I must suffer – but starting Monday. Tonight I party and stay away from gruel.
Now the modern Pilgrim has all the right stuff: every electronic gadget known to man – gps, cell phone, adapters, solar chargers, radios, IPad, mini laptops, cords and plugs, aviator sun glasses, Columbia fleece vests, Tilley hats and all of the best. These guys and gals are normally gone by the end of the first week because the one thing they forgot to bring are blister bandages.
Off the Pilgrims go en masse: quickly, silently, aggressively with their tick, tick, tick walking sticks. Of course in the minds of all of the Pilgrims is to be the first Pilgrim at the first stop in order to get the best accommodations, and in that best brotherly love Pilgrim spirit….screw you buddy, I am first to go. So in that raptured state of mind and spirit we fly away pumped and focused.
In that best of Pilgrim state of mind we are to begin a spIritual existential (whatever that means) frame of consciousness. To discover one,s self, one,s sense on being, belonging, synchronicity with the universe. Okay, that about takes care of day one but what about the other 44 days. One can only think of one self for so long. I mean things can get boring pretty fast. Well, don,t fret because the “ The Pilgrim,s Life” has thought of everything. In a new book that has just come out called: “ The Pilgrim,s Guide to the Universe” at a special one time offer of 49 euros, you can have it all. Chapter 5 has a list of profound topics that every Pilgrim can use for those profound “ah ha” moments of enlightenment and self discovery. Topics such as:“ So Why Does the Sun Rise in the East and Set in the West? or “ Is There Really a Man in the Moon?” or “ Is the Moon Made of Green Cheese or Brie?” and then there is my own personal favourite: “ Why Do Our Eye-Brows Remain the Same Colour When Everything Else Turns Grey?” – topics that are sure to keep you engaged in thoughtful thoughts for your entire pilgrimage. All are very hot topics in today,s complicated unforgiving world.
As the Pilgrim hikes about the French o0r Spanish countryside he or she will face many challenges. How to stay entertained? Well, at one of the Pilgrim training sessions they tell you and show you how to imitate farm animals like cows, roosters, sheep and goats. This will keep you in laughter and those animals confused all of the time during your trek. A real hoot. But the dogs are another matter. After a few days Pilgrims begin to smell really, really bad. A slight green hue or aura begins to appear around each Pilgrim. The air around a herd of Pilgrims undulates like the air around hot asphalt. Dogs can sense this and can smell a Pilgrim from miles away. But this is nothing new to the villagers. Going back to the days of the Plague, they know that they must have sufficient warning to hide their children, close their shops and cafes and remain upwind. Their dogs act like pickets such that when a Pilgrim approaches a small town or village the dogs sense a Pilgrim,s prescence and start yelping and barking like dogs in heat. Thus the villagers have enough time to shut down the entire village. And that is why nothing is open when a pilgrim enters a small town, village or hamlet throughout the French countryside. All of the villagers are hiding upwind of the Pilgrim.
Alas, a Pilgrim,s life is a challenging, lonely and frustrating one. Only the chosen few are strong enought to survive the physical and psychological hurdles. But remain strong, positive and purchase the array of Pilgrim self help books and you can be a real life Pilgrim too.
Remember. Pilgrims are only allowed to suffer.
That,s me.. colour my world khaki.
And if you believe in what I have just said then you too are crazy enough to do a 900 km pilgrimage. I can help. Call me!
Here is an excerpt from my book “Red Jewel.” Read more about this story through the link above:
“There was one incident that occurred to me about a month before we
left . It had a profound effect on me. It happened just before the New
Year — that week between the holidays — when nothing of importance
is really going on. Red Jewel was berthed on the breakwater, bow in
and facing the shore, the stern secured to some hard point on the stone
breakwater. On one side of me was Skip. On the other was some dude
named Peter of whom I barely knew. He seemed to be out of his depth,
nerdy looking, about thirty I would expect. We never really hit it off as
friends or neighbors. He kept to himself most of the time other than the
odd hello, good morning and small chit chat like that. But one evening
he asked if I would accompany him to a meeting in Waikiki. This I did.
He took me down to a small building located on a short side street
that bore north off of Kalakaua Avenue down in the Waikiki district of
Oahu. There in an upstairs room we met up with about twelve people
all of whom appeared to be close associates of Peter. It turned out that
Peter was a born again Christian and part of the Jesus movement here
in the Hawaiian Islands. This was not surprising to me as the Jesus
movement was huge in the early 1970s. I witnessed it first hand in my
home town of Toronto where many of the young people I knew, many
of whom were juvenile gangsters, petty criminals, drug dealers and users,
converted to the movement and became fanatical in their beliefs and
their personal convictions. They wanted to share their enlightenment
with a non-suspecting audience of their own personal road to Damascus.
There were many a Saturday night in the parking lot of the local pool hall
where I was caught up in their rhetoric and preaching with no escape
route in sight. That is not to say I was not a Christian or a believer. No,
I was just more subtle with my faith. I was not an in-your- face kind of
guy when it came to spirituality and the supernatural. My relationship
with God was a personal one.
Nevertheless, I spent the evening with Peter and his friends singing
Psalms and praising the Lord. I was more of an observer than an active
participant but I did admire their commitment and tried to be seen as
among them as an active colleague of the Lord. I was impressed with
their devotion, especially those young men and women, who were not yet
worldly or experienced in life. Living on blind faith alone brought them
all a sense of peace and wonderment, fulfilment, purpose, happiness.
My only hope for them was that the burden of life, of living, of making
a living would not undermine their contentment and positivity with the
aura of cynicism and despair that life’s burdens can deliver.
Peter and I left the meeting with a renewed sense of self, at least for
him as I had always been a believer. It seemed to me that these people had
to justify their spiritual beliefs, their existential existence in the world
and their faith overtly. The revival meetings became their lifeline from
the real danger of backsliding into a world of pleasure and deception.
It was that world that many of them knew too well and were keenly
frightened of.
We got back to our boats and said goodnight. Nothing more was said.
I fell asleep mindful of the evening events. A sense of peace enveloped
me. I was content. I was out for the count. The next morning Peter stopped me before I could leave for my morning routine of coffee, smokes, and “S” square times two.
“Jim…Jim, I hope you enjoyed the meeting last night. I hope we weren’t
too presumptuous in our faithful exuberance with you.”
“I did Peter…and no you weren’t. Th ank you very much for inviting
me.”
“Just one thing Jim” Peter went on, “I had a hard time falling asleep
last night so I came back topside for a short spell to clear my mind,
rationalize my thoughts.”
I nodded to him
“The strangest thing occurred to me Jim. And I hope you don’t feel
ill with me for telling you this as I know how this sounds. But it is the
truth, so help me God.”
He had my undivided interest now.
“Yeah, go on”
“While I was sitting there in reflection of the night’s events, a vision
enveloped my senses. It came over me, smothered me with warmth but
more importantly it came over Red Jewel. There in the pulpit of your
sailboat sat an angel. It, or she, or he was resplendent in white: a brilliance
of righteousness with an aura of holiness. It was a guardian angel Jim. I
know how this sounds but I swear it to be the truth. I had to tell you.”
“Really?” was about all I could say.
“I know…I know…I know Jim. I know this sounds crazy but it
happened. As God is my witness. He paused for a brief moment to collect
his thoughts and then continued. “Then the angel looked directly at me
Jim, and smiled, and then looked over your boat. It spread its wings out
and then in as if to signal to all of the world…to me…protection. Don’t
you see Jim? You and Nigel have nothing to worry about, Red Jewel has
the protection of the Lord. You will be safe.”
I didn’t know what to say to Peter. All I could do was offer a grin of
questionable understanding. It was an uncomfortable moment: for Peter
to tell me this and for me to acknowledge his supernatural experience.
“Thanks for that Peter. It is reassuring for sure.”
I looked forward to the pulpit. Th ere was nothing there but the
stainless-steel guardrails and the boats beyond the bow. Nevertheless, I
smiled, and nodded my head to whoever may be there, unseen, except in
the spiritual domain.
A sense of security came over me and I felt extremely happy.
We need another one…for sure.
I mentioned Al Stewart in my last post’s music segment. Here is his perfect song. Perfect in that the lyrics are poetic and lyrical and it has piano, strings, acoustic and electric guitar and a haunting sax. Enjoy:
“She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running like a water color in the rain…”
I feel like this guy.
Thomas Aquinas said: “ if you believe in God no explanation is required. If you don’t believe in God no explanation would suffice.” It is a matter of faith and it is a relationship that is personal. I am just glad and happy that I can come here. There are thousands here living for hope. What is wrong with that in this crazy world we live in.
But who would have frites in a sandwich?
