Category: A Very Short Story

From the Short Story Vault

09 September: Burgos to Castrojiriz

Covering two days here. Burgos to Hornillos was 21 km and Hornillos to Castrijiriz was another 20. Hot, hot, hot. Did I say it was hot? Well it was. Beautiful sunrise… this was taken around 730 am.

And heavenly intervention.

We are walking in an area called the Meseta. This is a broad dry plain almost devoid of shade and trees of any sort. It covers the central interior of Spain. When they say “ it never rains in Spain except on the plain” it is the Meseta that they are referring to. Best to start early and knock off about 10 km before our first break. Then start off after a short break and cover the last 10 or so. We,re sticking to about 20 a day until it cools off, which we expect starting Monday, 11 th. Hopefully that is.

The Albergue last night in Hornillo was awful and to make matters worse we ran into the annoying Australian woman. She is some piece of work.  Her irritating presence was offset by a lovely Italian woman walking with her mother. We had dinner with them. They were wonderful to have dinner with. Except for the flies, the food here is excellent. Lots of it and cheap wine to wash it all down. But the Australian woman who sat at a nearby table nattered on all evening about nothing in her worst, cat scratching working class aussie accent. Eee yeah, oh eeeyeah, eeeyeah yeah mate, Eee yeeah. And btw, I’m not your mate.

We stopped at an old derelict monastery built in the 14th century. It was a welcome respite except for the koom bye ah armosphere among the younger people here. Don,t they know that us boomers had that all sown up at Woodstock 1969? It is all a fantasy but alas, d,accord they will have to find out for themselves.

At Castrojeriz. Staying at a monastery that has been renovated.

Jerry is back. I still can,t understand him but somehow we get along. I learn something from him every day. Today it is the word “crack” which means  to chat or “buts” which means a bun, or “ cack” which means underwear. It is all the Queens English he says. Yeah right I says and tell him I have to go for a “crunch.” A what he says. Never mind I says and tell him it is the King,s English and leave it at that.

Read ya later

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08 September: Burgos

 

 

What a beautiful city. Home base of El Cid. Who is El Cid you may ask? Well,he was the Spanish hero and medieval warrior who kicked moorish butt out of Spain and restored catholicism and Spanish hegemony to the Iberian peninsula. Love it. Just like Charles “THE HAMMER” Martel in France, he halted the muslim ingress into Europe and the establishment of Islam. They sound like WWF characters to me. Impressive dudes. Life would be a lot different here today but for the bravery and leadership of these individuals.

When I checked in I asked the young woman where the statue to Charlton Heston was. She laughed as she kew right away what I was talking about. You see they made a movie back in the 1960s called El Cid starring…ta da…Charleton Heston. Burgos is the birthplace of….El Cid…and not Charlton Heston, as that ignorant woman from South Carolina would surmise. Elderly she was but had no clue where Vancouver was. I said to her that my wife was leaving for Savanna in a few days. Did she know where that city was? Cruel, I know, but ignorant people who should know better really irritate me. The Spanish know and she should too.

Of course Burgos has a cathedral and what a cathedral it is too.

Expand the photo and you will see Christ depicted at the centre top with Mary on one side of him and an archangel on the other. The middle relief illustrates those who are saved (left) to those who are damned for eternity (right). The bottom illustration has the 12 Apostles front and centre. We could not get inside to have a peak. Imagine that all of this was done by one man chipping away for years.

All of a sudden I felt really holy. My socks were holy and my undershorts were beginning to feel holy…and airy too. Have to find a Spanish discount store. Alas Burgos has no Walmart, thank goodness. Only very high end and chic clothing stores.

Seriously though, walking amongst these architectural treasures and down the winding streets and pathways a feeling of peace and happiness overcomes the soul. You feel blessed with having been alive with a strong sense of being with oneself as well as a belonging to something existential that is unexplainable yet somehow recognizable. You are part of something much bigger. Hard to explain.

Burgos is also very modern:

Boy oh boy….how I love this country.

Read ya later.

07 September: Beldorado to Villafranca

The walk from Beldorado to Villafranco was very boring and very flat. So at Villafranca myself, Jerry and about 20 other pilgrims decided to take the bus to Burgos. After all, this is not an endurance test, nor a race. It is not fun either thus far. What with 4 days of deluges of biblical proportions that even Noah would shy away from interspersed with blistering heat, wet clothes and shoes caked in muddy clay, this has not been a walk in the park. Next week promises to be cooler. We will see.

So in that boring vein I decided to repeat a post from August.

Someone asked me once what was the pilgrim life was like.  Well…..

Pilgrims can be anybody. They come from all walks of life. Judges, retired Naval Officers, mad French mathematicians, flying Dutchmen, crazy Germans and others.  Pilgrims show up en masse at Pilgrim starting places like Vezelay France or St Jean Pied de Port. Now Pilgrims are not allowed to swear,not allowed to have money, although most of them arrive via first class air or high speed trains. No,no, no. Pilgrims can only suffer.

And because Pilgrims have no money, they have no alarm clocks with them. No matter as most Pilgrim hostels are beside churches. And churches have church bells that go off at 6 am every morning. Precise. It is god,s clock so they have to be. The first time I experienced this it was frightening. You see, I had broken the second and third major Pilgrim rule in that I was having fun the night before at a singsong with some wine. You see, Pilgrims are not allowed to have fun (2nd rule) nor are they allowed to drink (3rd rule). No, Pilgrims are only allowed to suffer. So you can imagine how distraught I was when those bells went off. I jumped out of bed and thought my head  was exploding when those bells went off. Alas it was only the bells and not my head. Then again a severe red wine hangover would fit right in with the Pilgrim,s code of conduct….major pain.

At that moment all of the Pilgrims have one thing on their mind…toilet. And you probably thought those walking sticks were for walking. No,no, no. They are for fending off the other pilgrims while running to the toilet in order to be the first one in there.

Then tbe Pilgrim goes and has breakfast. Gruel actually because the 4 th rule of a Pilgrim is that you cannot enjoy food. You have to suffer so our gruel has the texture and look of metamucil, or…..well, you get the disgusting picture. After gruel and cold stale coffee the Pilgrim has a choice. He can start his daily walking grind or he / she can attend Pilgrim classes. There is: “How to be a Pilgrim 101;” Lessons in Self Flagellation; “ “ The Pilgrim,s Handshake” and of course one of my favourites in “ How to meet and greet other Pilgrims – the secret code word.” And for this one time only I am going to tell you what it is: ” Bon Compostelle.” But if you forget it you can always say: “ Pass the Pasta.” That will work as well. Which reminds me of the Pilgrim cook book – an absolute must for the proper, discerning Pilgrim – “100 ways to cook pasta” also known as, and I love this part, “ Pasta and the Pilgrim,s Life.” I know, I know, a real classic best seller.

So what does a Pilgrim wear. Anything really. Modern or traditional. The traditional Pilgrims have those earth tone coloured robes made of homespun wool. Itchy as hell…ooops sorry for swearing…They have these long hemp belts for a tight or loose fitting fit. Now you never want to be behind one of these pilgrims as they tend to roll up the hems to their waist as they are goiing up a steep hill such that…like a true Scott…their bare asses are stairing right back at you. Not a pretty site. Oh, and those long hemp belts? Well, one tine I saw one of these Pilgrims cut a small piece of hemp and then roll it up in paper and smoke it. Bad, sacriligious, blasphemy and a cardinal rule of the Pilgrim.  You must….you must pass it around.

 

Thats all for today.

Burgos tomorrow. The birthplace of El
Cid.

 

 

 

06 September: Santo Domingo to Belorado

Left early enough. Loved Santo Domingo. Awe inspiring church, cloisters and monasteries. Stonework is amazing. Seems like they use a mixture of grey or taupe coloured granite and sandstone. It is beautiful. I have said this many times that whether you are a believer or not, Christianity has given civilization a multitude of awesome architecture, impressive art,music and literature. I am a believer and when I see this I am bewildered.

But modernity is here side by side with the old. They compliment each other. Domingo is old but it is a modern city too. One feels a sense of contentment walking the narrow streets. Love it.

Meet my new friends from Brazil enjoying a paella lunch washed down with Sangria. Paella is a rice based dish. Add shrimp (big) chunks of whatever and voila…delicious.

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Oh and  siesta time is near. Everything shuts down for a few hours before reopening a few hours later. Then out to have a meal, wine perhaps or a beer. The Spanish have their evening meal late,usually starting around 7pm. Highly civilized. Golly how I love this country.

One can sense a major change coming as the horizons get bigger, landscapes broader, drier with rolling hills. Harvest is in hence a dull,yellow and dustier look and feel to the ground.

Belorado is but a small farming village of no real repute except for its respite from the daily slog. 20 clicks done today. Enough. Albergues beckon.

05 September: Azofria to Santo Domingo

Did 11 kilometers today. Had to stop because it got too hot. It is hard for me because I am having trouble sleeping and while pilgrims have to suffer I suffer with a Sangria or two, maybe three.

Alzofria was nice. We left early as it was cool. The trail was waterlogged, muddy and rough. It is ok to walk early when it is cool but as the sun rises the heat begins. To make matters worse Jerry thought the first village was only 5 kilometers away. As usual he was wrong. It was 12. And hot. So I stopped and took a taxi to Santo Domingo, about 6 kilometers away. I could not go on.

This was the early pub, 12 kilometers from Alzofria. Btw it is fairly cheap here. Spending about 30 euro a day. Accommodations are about 12 euros and a pilgrims meal about 13 euros. The meal comes with a  bottle of wine….gratis. Boy I love this country.

Countryside is barren. Brown and undulating hills. No shade. Like the San Joaquim valley in California. Very very hot. Humidity is off the scale here. In 30 minutes you are drenched in sweat. Not nice.

Santo Domingo is a large town. Beautiful central square with the usual church adjoining. Domingo himself was a wanna be monk but the local monks would not accept him. So he branched off by himself and helped all the pilgrims get through the area on their way to Santiago. He dies in 1109 and is the requisite Saint and sponsor of this area.

Group from Brazil enjoying paella and Sangrias.

Read ya tomorrow.