Somos Peregrinos

Now, the post you've all been waiting for!

This Easter, my friends Cecilia, Dave, and I decided we would attempt the Camino de Santiago, or St. James' Way. While many at home will not have heard of the Camino, within Europe and Catholicism it is known as one of the most important religious pilgrimages, right behind Jerusalem and Rome. It has been traveled for more than a thousand years, attracting pilgrims from all over Europe since the remains of St. James were discovered in Galicia in the 8th century. The myth is that James, the brother of John, was martyred in Jerusalem and his body shipped to the Iberian Peninsula, where he had preached earlier in life. A storm struck off the coast of Galicia (known as A Costa da Morte or "The Coast of Death") and the boat sank, losing James' body to the sea. Shortly thereafter, however, his body washed up on shore, undamaged and covered in shells. To this day, the shell is the symbol of the Camino de Santiago. Anyone who makes a pilgrimage to the tomb of the Apostle, attends Mass in the Cathedral and confesses his sins is given a plenary indulgence by the Catholic church, a Get-Out-of-Purgatory-Free card, so to speak.

Today the Camino is very highly traveled, attracting tens of thousands of pilgrims from around the world, for the above reason, and for more personal and secular reasons as well.

Which brings me to our pilgrimage. We would be attempting the Camino on the most famous and well-developed route, which passes through León, south of Asturias. From there it is some 300 odd kilometers (~200 miles) to Santiago. We would have Easter break to complete it. I had spoken with the parents of my students, 13- and 14-year-old Ali and Patri, about how I would be attempting the Camino, and to my great surprise and gratitude they offered to lend me a bike. And so I would be using a primary-colored bike fondly dubbed "Beef" after I misread one of its (his, actually) decals.



Thursday March 25, Oviedo-León

So, Thursday afternoon we put our bikes on the train, and 1 1/2 hours later arrived in the city of León. There we sampled some of the local food, such as morcilla. Morcilla is one of those things you should eat and never ask what it's made of. It is very delicious; kind of a spicier, classier sloppy joe spread on toast . . . that happens to be made of blood and rice. The greatest thing about León is the extensive practice of tapas. In every locale, if you order a drink, you get a snack alongside, be it chips, tortilla, jamón, or morcilla.

After sampling the tapeo leonés a bit, we turned in for the night. We stayed in a monastery, complete with nuns, a vegetable garden, and a chapel. That evening before our trek, we attended a special pilgrims' service to bless our journey. I understood everything the pious old Spanish nun was saying. She was very adamant on one point, that we are not on vacation, we are pilgrims, and pilgrims of luxury as compared to the Middle Ages when people regularly died attempting the journey. The basic message was: you will suffer. If you aren't suffering then you aren't doing it right. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, AMEN.

Accommodation

Over the next week, that stern nun would appear in our minds as we climbed mountains, as we rode through rainstorms, as we bruised, cut, strained and abused our bodies. I may not have quite the same views and beliefs as her, but we can agree, this was not a relaxing vacation we were embarking on. This was a physical and psychological challenge unmatched by anything in my previous experience. We got in our bunk beds and tried to sleep as much as possible before the morning, restless with anticipation.


Friday March 26, León-Astorga. ~50 km (~30 mi)

Attempted pictures with the León cathedral before beginning

And they're off! Keeping an eye out for shells and yellow arrows, we followed the Camino out of León. When considering which route to take, one benefit we saw with León was that it is much flatter and drier than if we'd gone from Oviedo. Well, naturally, the first day of our journey, it rained quite heavily, during most of the rolling hills we came across. It was when the wind began to blow, though, that I really became discouraged. With that cold, invisible force against me, it was hard not to imagine God himself pushing me backward. The landscape didn't help the mood either; grey, sparse, bleak, industrial.


That first day was almost certainly the hardest for me. I very quickly realized how completely unprepared I was. All the training we did was a total joke. I hadn't brought warm enough clothes, and I felt the bike was already failing me. I probably should have also brought my inhaler; that might've been smart.


The discouraging start did get better, though. As we neared Astorga the landscape became much more wooded and green, and we got away from the main highway and onto secluded dirt paths. It looked very much like the dirt roads I used to bike growing up in the valley. After climbing the last hill before our destination, we were greeted by some Catalonian hippies and their snack shack called La Casa de los Dioses. There they offered us some of their all-organic fair-trade environmentally-friendly fruit, nuts and bizcocho cake.

hippie shack

6k from Astorga, Cathedral in the center background

Feeling renewed, we made it the next 6k to Astorga and dropped our things at the next pilgrim's hostel. We got there early enough to be able to enjoy the sights, such as the Gaudí Palace, and the Cathedral. It is a very pretty little medieval city, built on a hill. Apparently it was at one time the capital of Asturias. I'm guessing it's famous for chocolate as well, because every other shop was a bombonería.

Gaudi Palace

Holy Week (Semana Santa) is well advertised in Spain

Saturday March 27, Astorga-Villafranca del Bierzo ~80 km (~50 mi)

I awoke the second day quite sore, and not terribly motivated, but I got on the bike and followed Dave and Cecilia out of town. After Astorga the terrain starts to get interesting. As you can see in this graph, there is a 700 meter (2,300 feet) rise in elevation after Astorga, up to Cruz de Ferro.


At this point each of our different strengths (or amount of strength) became evident. Dave blasted ahead happy as can be, and Cecilia was a good distance ahead of me too. It is very discouraging being left behind, but each person really has to take these kinds of challenges at their own pace. We got so far apart, though, that we lost Dave for a bit, as he'd gone way ahead, waited, missed us, gone back to look .... Eventually we all powered up to the "roof" of the Camino, Cruz de Ferro. As its name suggests, it is a large iron cross. Pilgrims carry stones up this mountain, and then throw them at the foot of the cross as a symbol of casting off their sins.



From here it was a bit downhill to Manjarín, which is little more than a shack which sells touristic kitsch. Supposedly they also have something to do with the Knights Templar ...



From there it was 1,000 glorious meters of descent (3,300 feet), giving our legs a deserved rest and putting our brakes to the test. It was incredible to see what a difference the altitude made. At Manjarín I touched snow and it looked like late winter still. As we neared Ponferrada everything became more and more green, and the fruit trees began to blossom.

descending

In Ponferrada we stopped for an hour or two to eat lunch and look around. Ponferrada is most famous for its castle, which looks just exactly how you imagine a European castle should look, with a moat, turrets, flags, a drawbridge, etc.

Moat-side lunch

After also indulging ourselves at this posh bakery next to the castle, we continued on yet another leg. This was one of my favorite stages that we did. We rode along quiet country roads, passing gardens, lettuce patches, tractors, vineyards, and quaint little one-chapel villages. If you've ever seen Triplets of Belleville, you can imagine my sheer joy when I cycled past an old woman with one leg shorter than the other (and thus one shoe taller than the other) and a man with a bulbous wine-o nose. If you haven't seen the movie I suggest it. It's likely the best French cartoon you will ever see. During most of the journey I imagined myself as the main character, who cycles constantly throughout the movie and has absurdly large leg muscles.

Cycling in the Bierzo region of León

That night we stayed in Villafranca and had a hearty dinner for just 5 euros as part of the hostel's amenities. We met some other bikers there who we would end up seeing every single night from then on, almost to a creepy extent.

The day was the most ambitious we attempted. Not only did we cycle 50 miles, but up and down a bona fide mountain! I am still not sure how I did that. It is truly amazing what you can make your body do with the right encouragement.


Sunday March 28, Villafranca-Somas ~60 km (38 mi)

And so, with that mountain behind, we set out the next day to conquer another. We had been warned numerous times what a trial this stage is. This time we would have to climb 900 meters (3,000 feet), at times as steep as a 20% grade! Yesterday seemed flat in comparison.

seriously steep! Cecilia and I walked about 2k of it. (Dave cycled it all).

Back into winter

At long last we reached the village of O Cebreiro, and took our first steps into Galicia! The change was instantly apparent. There was Celtic music playing, pulpo a la gallega (octopus) on the menu, and the people had a noticeable accent, like Italian almost.

Some people do the Camino on horseback!

We had a good lunch of pulpo, fries and tortilla, then once again began the descent. It wasn't as much of an instant reward this time, we had to go up a few more hills, but once the downhill began, it was lots of fun. With the road wide open for miles, we zoomed down without a care in the world. We must have been going 30 mph at least (48km/h). Once again, we entered spring, and the typical green of Galicia.

Spent the night in Samos, a lovely town along the river. From here on the number of pilgrims increased noticeably and we were no longer able to stay in the free hostels, which give preference to walkers. But having a real shower and not being surrounded at night by 20 old men snoring was a welcome change.

springtime

Monastery on the river

Monday March 29, Samos-Ventas de Narón

We had a good morning, even though our good weather had run out, it wasn't terrible. From here on the terrain was an endless series of green rolling hills and small streams. We decided not to ride on the highway. Even though it is faster, it is also extremely boring and demoralizing. We rode on the highways a couple times and the Camino quickly becomes a tedious grind, constantly being passed by lunatic drivers. Instead we went on dirt trails, and I really felt like I was mountain biking--bouncing over rocks, both my brakes fully engaged, through mud and streams.

We had lunch in Portomarín, which is a really pretty town on a large river. After lunch though the weather went from unpleasant to atrocious. We stopped in the town of Ventas, soaked to the bone, and tried to find lodging. To my utter despair, they informed us that all of the hostels and inns in this village and the next were full. This was the first extreme low point for me. When Dave suggested cycling 10 more kilometers to a larger town, Palas de Rei, I about cried. Thanks to the kindness of one of the innkeepers, we were able to get a spot on the floor, and even snag a couple beds when pilgrims didn't show up for their reservation. To sum up the day, I kept a little log in my phone. It was simple: Rain. Can't get warm. Can't get dry.


Tuesday March 30, Ventas-Arzúa ~45 km (28 mi)

Well, I did eventually get warm and dry, and we started out the next day in better spirits. We decided to take it easy from here on. Though we could have conceivably gone all the way to Santiago, I was having fun seeing the little villages and not feeling rushed. It rained a little bit, on and off, not enough to really bother me, but enough to keep the trails plenty muddy. There were moments when you had to shift into low gear and power through the mud, it was so deep and sticky. Even through terrain like this we were still blasting past the walkers.

I found my attitude towards the pedestrians had changed significantly over the trip. At the beginning it was nice to just see other people, and we'd greet them with "¡Buen camino!" Now though they were an annoyance more than anything else, walking six abreast at a snail's pace, oblivious to the world around them. I instead had to greet them with "¡Cuidado!" (Look out!), nearly colliding with numerous pilgrims who jumped like startled deer in front of us.

We leisurely rolled into Arzúa, and proceeded to make this ugly little town all the grimier. As we dismounted and took a look at each other, we saw how comically filthy we all were. What with mud covering me front and back and drenched in sweat, I'd venture to say this was the dirtiest I have ever been.




After showering ourselves and all of our muddy clothing, and mopping up the trail of dirt we'd left behind, we sought out the best comfort a tired traveler can find--loads of calorie dense food. I neglected to mention before, but this was a part of the trip I particularly enjoyed. After cycling for six hours and burning thousands and thousands of calories, it became tradition each day to eat obscenely large meals. If you've ever been traveling and wished you could have sampled more food, I'd suggest you cycle 30 miles between meals; it's incredible how much you can eat. I have never eaten so many Menú del Día in my life--full three-course meals with soups, meat, seafood, bread, drinks and dessert. Spanish food is not terribly rich in fruits and vegetables, however, which we found quite necessary to supplement before long...


Wednesday March 31, Arzúa-Santiago de Compostela. 38 km (24 mi)

The final leg! Santiago was within reach now. Even so, I inexplicably found this day the most psychologically challenging of the journey. Everything was wearing out. My knee was aching from days of exercise, my bike was in a pitiful state, and I was mentally exhausted of pushing myself around the next bend, over the next hill. I was close to despair at times. We got to Monte de Gozo, and I saw, finally finally, I had climbed the last hill.

We had a quick pick-me-up, snapped a few photos, and made our descent into the city.

SUCCESS! We made it to our hostel.

Look at poor Beef.

Triumphant smile

It turns out the average tourist is a horrid photographer. This is the best we could get of all three of us. My eyes might be closed and the top of the cathedral cut off, but here it is, proof of our achievement!

The next morning, as sure proof of his insanity, Dave got back on his bike and began to do the Camino in reverse back to León. Cecilia and I were having nothing of that however, and we proceeded to celebrate our accomplishment in true Galician style. We unabashedly sampled all the seafood, jamón, croquettes, cakes, cookies, tapas and wine we could get our hands on. We took the bus to A Coruña for a few days to continue this celebration on the coast. There we rested and relaxed, went shopping, went to the beach, sampled the best octopus in the world, and devoured tarta de Santiago in bed. It was amazing, and well-deserved. I really enjoyed A Coruña, it may have the worst weather in all of Spain, with rain every hour on the hour, but is extremely beautiful, with a great nightlife and cuisine, beach, port, and gorgeous architecture. One of my favorite cities in Spain, for sure.

Big ole anchor

Eating icecream at the Torre de Hercules, the oldest functioning Roman lighthouse in the world. or something.

Octopus, the theme of the trip.

A Coruña has beautiful and ornate glass covered buildings.

As luck would have it we stumbled upon a procession of sorts on Good Friday

Widows of solitude, I think these ladies are called.

One of these things is not like the other . . . Don't worry, she's not a klan member, the Spanish did the pointy hat thing first. Still totally freaks me out.

Then we returned to Santiago for Sunday Mass. It was nice. There is an enormous censer (or incensorio) which they swing across the entire length of the transept. You can kind of see it here.

incense

Here is a better picture of us and the Cathedral.

Posing with Jesus and St. James: terribly tasteless, and potentially blasphemous, but . . . priceless.

Reliquary of the Cathedral. Each of those shelves has a little box with a piece of the true cross, or the shroud, or tooth of a saint, etc.

The Cathedral from a nearby park.

After 11 challenging, inspiring, extraordinary days, it was time to go home. We hopped on a bus and bade farewell to Santiago and Galicia. In retrospect, I would have done many things differently. I would have trained better, used a higher quality bike, and dressed more for the weather. But I wouldn't give up the experience for the world. Cycling is the absolute best way to tour. I am now familiar with so many parts of Spain, seen villages and mountains and vineyards at a human pace, met new people, and forged friendships I will never forget. What's more, the sense of physical and spiritual accomplishment I now have is something I'll keep with me all my life.
Pilgrimage: Check.

Basques & Biking

Oh dear, I have just been far too busy doing fun things to keep you all updated! It's almost overwhelming, every day I don't write something in this blog it's more I have to squeeze into the next.

Last weekend I visited Bilbao. Thanks to the wonders of Couchsurfing, I had instant friends, free accommodation, and the most generous and knowledgeable tour guides one could ask for.

I went up to the top of the mountain in a funicular with the Ukrainian couchsurfer, Liliya, who was staying with the same host as me. We then decided to walk down the mountain to the city.

The Guggenheim Museum, by Frank Gehry

The museum entrance, with the giant puppy made of flowers.

As you can see, the museum is one of the lovelier sides of Bilbao (hence all the photos). Most of the city is very industrial . . .


Bilbao has extremely narrow streets, and much smaller plazas than other cities. Here's the best pic of the cathedral I could get, as I just couldn't get any farther away.

The river is quite lovely. On the right is the town hall. I stayed just behind there, but a few hundred feet up in the steep hills. There was even a moving sidewalk to help you climb the hill!

On Sunday, I decided to get out of the city. I had met Txabi on Friday at the couchsurfing social, and he offered to show me around his part of the Basque Country. I gladly took him up on it, and along with his girlfriend, Ester, we managed to see loads of Vizcaya. Here is San Juan de Gaztelugatxe, a small chapel built out on a little island. It was SO cold. I'll have to return someday in summer.

The town of Bermeo. Here I ate some delicious pintxos (elaborate little snacks) and the most incredible fried calamari I have EVER tasted.

Mundaka, said to have some of the best surfing in Europe.

He also took me to the town of Guernica, made famous by Picasso's painting, itself a response to the Blitzkrieg "testing" the Nazis performed on the small town during World War II. This is a recreation, the original painting (of that same size!) is in the Reina Sofia museum in Madrid.

Guernica is also important among Basque people as a sort of cultural capital. The president of the region is sworn in there, under the Gernikako Arbola, a tree symbolizing the Basque country.

At the end of this great tour, Txabi took me back to his parents' house for Sunday lunch. His last name, Gaztelu, means castle and, as you can see in that small curvy mirror, he lives in front of a castle!

Spending the day with Txabi and Ester, I really learned a lot about Basque people and culture. Similar to Cataluña, there is a fair amount of anti-Spanish sentiment. As you are maybe aware, the terrorist group ETA is from Basque country and continues to murder in the name of Basque independence. I saw quite a bit of graffiti saying "Viva ETA". Of course, this kind of extremism is deplorable and unjustified, but now that I know some Basques, their history and language a bit, I can see where they're coming from.

I was amazed as I sat at Sunday lunch with the Gaztelus that, only a few hours from home, I truly felt the sensation of being in different country. Everyone around the table was speaking Basque, which if you've never heard, you need only listen to this narrative to understand how unique a language it is. The food was different from anything I've eaten in Asturias, Salamanca, Madrid, or Barcelona (I can't really describe it, but it was all tasty. I tried snail for the first time!). Talking with other Spaniards, they all act like, "What's the big deal? Basque country is just like any other part of Spain," but I'd wager they've never had Sunday lunch with a real Basque family like I did.

I don't intend to understand Spanish politics, but the concerns Txabi's family mentioned seem reasonable. Now that a Spanish political party is in power in the Basque country, they worry that less money will go to preserving and encouraging their language. And it frustrates them that people from other parts of Spain move to the Basque country and make no attempt to learn Basque or understand their culture.

Did you know that . . . ?

• Jai-alai comes from the Basques? Every city there has a jai-alai court, and it's almost as popular as fútbol (which is saying something.) Here's an adorable early 90's documentary on it haha.
• Boise, Idaho, has the largest Basque population in the United States? Every year they have a Basque festival and the president of the Basque country flies out to participate.
• The Basque language and people are the last descendants of prehistoric cultures in Europe? They were there before the Germanic tribes, before the Romans, even before the Celts.
  
• Some of the most common Hispanic surnames are Basque? Names like Echevarria, Mendoza, Bolívar, Ortiz and Ibarra are of Basque origin. The Spanish word for "left", izquierda, is also from Basque.
  

Aside from strong political beliefs, the Basques I met were very generous and very into food, insisting I try such and such pintxo and happily picking up the tab. At dinner they were lighthearted, laughing and joking as their dad explained to them how easy it is to make lasagna, when he was actually describing some completely unrelated ham dish. Basques also have one of the highest qualities of life in Spain, and seemed very well traveled. Ester was eager to speak with me about Utah, saying what a big fan of water skiing she is after visiting Utah three times as part of a language exchange program. She talked about Jordanelle Reservoir and the beautiful lakes in the mountains, and still keeps in touch with her host-family (and all 7 host-siblings) in Salt Lake.

In the end I was sad to leave. Couchsurfing is such an amazing community of travelers and above all else, completely restores my faith in humanity. I have met nothing but great people so far. I can only hope someday the people I've met will visit me in the U.S. so I can repay their generosity and make their travels incredible too.

~~~

This week it was back to reality, my days even more filled up as I have now begun training in earnest (aka for realzz). I am officially, seriously, doing the Camino de Santiago ("Way of St. James"). After the Holy Land and Rome, it is one of the most important (Catholic) pilgrimages. Its terminus is the town of Santiago de Compostela, in Galicia, the northwestern corner of the country, just above Portugal. There are routes all across Spain and from every corner of Europe. The truly hard-core (and/or devout) start from the French border and make the 800 km (500 mile) journey on foot. or knees. While I am not so zealous or ambitious, I still have a fair challenge ahead of me. My friends Dave and Cecilia and I have decided we will tackle the Camino on bicycle, starting from the city of León. From there it is a measly 350 km (220 miles).

My reason for doing the pilgrimage is mostly for the personal challenge of it. I really haven't done anything physically challenging since Boy Scouts, and probably never done anything quite this ambitious. We have a whole week of vacation during Holy Week, before Easter. Counting weekends that is at least 10 days off of school, so I was racking my brain trying to figure out what to do, where to go. It's a long holiday, but everyone warned me against traveling then, as it'd be expensive, crowded, and impossible to find a room. When Cecilia told me about her plan, it was perfect. Travel is free (I'll mostly be borrowing the gear), and the inns along the Camino let pilgrims pay whatever they like. Even more importantly, the sights and experiences will be unforgettable. We'll start in León which, in the dry central plateau, offers a more typical Don Quixote kind of scenery. Then it's over the mountains into green Galicia, which is supposed to be quaint villages, rolling green hills, and a few quirky characters strewn along the way as well.

Last Wednesday we went on a ride in the Quirós Valley, 25 minutes south of Oviedo. The region and its villages are so breathtaking. As we rode the bike path, along the river, among the trees, inside mountain tunnels, I couldn't help wondering why on earth I had never been here before. I can't believe I have lived here for 5 months and had no idea such a place existed. I kid you not, it is just as beautiful as any of the canyon trails in the Wasatch mountains back home.

Proaza, where we began.

Peñas juntas

Entragu, where we ended.

Yes, it is less pristine than Utah, as there are people living all along the way (and things like power-lines as a result), but it has its own charm as well; such as the local people, seemingly frozen in time. There was a man tilling his garden who could have been from 1880 or something. He wore typical Asturian clogs, called madreñes, and had a weathered face and grisly demeanor. I didn't have my camera with me, but I don't know that I would have had the nerve to take a photo anyway.

(All of these photos are taken from a google search)

Asturias is so lovely. Now that winter is over, I will be making many more trips out of the city to appreciate the countryside. Yesterday Cecilia and I went on another training ride, from here in Oviedo to the coast of Gijón, 28 km (17 miles). We probably couldn't have picked a worst day to go, honestly. About halfway there we were slammed with the most hideous rainstorm I've seen in a while. Zooming down the side roads, wearing nothing but thermal underwear and a waterproof jacket, the rain blinding my eyes, I began to doubt the wisdom of our training and the pilgrimage plan in general. We camped out in a bus shelter for a spell and poured the water out of our shoes. After eating a little turrón and laughing at our bad luck, the worst of it passed and I felt much more positive. The last leg flew by and we soon arrived in Gijón, very disheveled, but alive and kicking. It really wasn't that hard of a ride, and the sense of accomplishment was very gratifying. I can only imagine how I'll feel when we pull into Santiago! I'm going to invest in some more waterproof and quick drying gear, but then I think the 50 km a day we had planned will be no sweat.

I am really excited for the Camino. Wish me luck in the coming weeks that all continues according to plan. Santiago or bust!