Camino to Santiago de Compostela - Information and stories about the pilgrimage routes to Santiago.

No more tears in heaven

2011-10-25T08:02:00.000+01:00

A lot of people wouldn't associate the words "heroism" or "nobility" with pilgrims. And yet I wonder if maybe all pilgrims who walk to Santiago are heroes? I don't know. All I know is that heroism is sometimes more obvious than others. On my own pilgrimages and in my time in the Pilgrims' Office I've met people who have walked with disabilities or had to overcome huge challenges. Recently a man arrived carrying his rucksack who had walked with one leg and a crutch from France. Other pilgrims are obviously ill. Sometimes we find out how ill they are. For some it is the last pilgrimage.
Often pilgrims arrive and the struggle they have made to reach the Tomb of the Apostle is etched on their faces. This can be true of pilgrims walking the 100 kms from Sarria as well as much longer distances. Maybe inside everyone's rucksack there is pain and suffering of some kind or another. But as in life some people are exceptional. I would like to tell you about two pilgrims. No pictures, no pack drill, and, as they say, some of the details have been changed.

I looked up from my desk after I had pressed the gadget which flashes the desk number on the screen above the door. A middle aged couple approached. Quiet and demure, neatly dressed in hiking clothes. I guessed they were Spanish. They stood there almost at attention whilst I introduced myself and asked for their credenciales. As they handed them over I sensed their seriousness. For many people receiving the final stamp and the Compostela is a solemn moment. I opened out their credenciales on the desk in front of me and it was clear that theirs had been a long journey. I noticed the first stamp and asked for confirmation, "Where did you start from?" "Arles, in France," was the reply. Now it is not unusual for us to receive pilgrims who started in Arles. It is however highly unusual for two Spanish people living in Spain to travel this distance from outside their own country. I said that I'd heard the route was beautiful and I asked how they had found walking in France. We chatted as pilgrims do about walking, the route, where they slept and so on. I explained I was applying the final stamp of the Cathedral on their credenciales and asked them to confirm their names which would go on their Compostela. The atmosphere changed to one of greater seriousness. "Sir," they said, " we have walked before and we would like a dedication on our Compostelas." "Of course," I replied, "In what name?" I have learned that it is best not to ask anything about the dedication unless the information is volunteered. Sometimes the memory is too painful. As I wrote I kept my head down but the woman kept talking and the story emerged. "The name is that of our daughter. She died at the age of 10, 10 years ago. This is our 10th Compostela dedicated to her memory. Every year we have walked and every year we have needed to walk farther. This year we have walked farther than ever before. Now it is time to stop."

As I handed over their Compostelas we grasped each others hands. In that moment I saw the nobility of all pilgrims who walk with grief and pain yet have the courage to keep going because they walk with a purpose. Pilgrims also have a destination and this dignified couple had now reached theirs. A tear rolled down the mother's face which she brushed away saying quietly, almost to herself, "no more tears" as if saying it might make it so.

A line from a song in comes to mind. It too was born of tragedy:

"There's peace I'm sure. And I know there'll be no more... Tears in heaven"

Time to squeeze lemons

2011-10-21T08:00:00.010+01:00

Monastery at Oseira

This week saw the announcement that my home city of Glasgow still tops the list for having the highest death rate in the UK. As if that wasn't enough to cheer me up I looked out of the window at the rain clouds hovering over Santiago. I was also conscious that it was my birthday. Another birthday. Shhhhhh. I knew it was coming and in reflective mood I've been re-reading some of Graham Greene's novels. The novels of my youth. Greene was very much in my mind when I visited the Monastery at Oseira during the later stages of my last camino. I found the place full of peace and exquisite beauty. So too did Graham Greene and he visited there regularly for many years. As I walked around the cloisters I remembered the effect his work had on me when I was younger. His great insights into the human condition. In his novel the Power and Glory he explores the frailty of an alcoholic priest and in doing so exposes the weaknesses of humanity and the institutions we build. Recently I've enjoyed again Greene's 'Stanboul Train'. This is the opus which established him as a great author. It concerns the struggle within us all, our ambivalence, between being realistic and being romantic. I remembered that Graham Greene lived until he was 87. The probability is he would have died 16 years earlier had he lived in Glasgow.

With these morbid thoughts in my mind I decided it was best to forget my birthday. Who wants to celebrate getting older? My friends however had other ideas and I couldn't refuse their invitation to dine at one of my favourite restaurants. It is called O Dezaseis (which means 16. The street number where it is located) and you won't find better Galician cooking anywhere, all served up in the loveliest of rustic surroundings - and the Menu of the Day is still only 12 euros. During the meal I had to put up with a battery of questions like, "What did you do during the Second World War? and "What was the Camino Frances like in 1958? I was more than compensated for the teasing by the excellent bottles of Godello, the type of regional white wine I prefer, followed by a rich deep red Mencia for the second course. By the end I had inevitably warmed to the whole birthday thing and although I was contemplating bed I was easily persuaded by the gang's late night plan.

Vaova Cocktail Bar, Santiago

Santiago it seems is changing and now boasts two cocktail bars which specialise in gin based cocktails. The bars wouldn't look out of place in London or Manhattan. Off we went into a land of ice cold glasses, cocktail shakers, 100 flavours of gin and the glamorous people of Santiago. Of course there wasn't a pilgrim in sight. This is another Santiago. Was it good? Well I enjoyed myself and it was a great laugh but frankly an oversized and overpriced glass with gin, tonic, a slice of cucumber, a vanilla pod and a rose petal isn't quite what the boy from Glasgow feels most comfortable with.

The next day naturally became a day of rest and recuperation. I was secretly pleased when I got messages from the younger people in the gang who appeared to be suffering more than me. Put it down to experience...or just getting older. Because you know it has its compensations. I find some of the changes a challenge. I am moving at a different pace now from the striving of my previous life. The keep-all-of-the-plates-spinning-at-the-same-time life. But I feel I am getting there. And of course a night on the tiles with the gang shows me that I can still do it. But I need that less and less. Other things are becoming important. Poets can express this much better them me. Take "A Poetic State" by Czeslaw Milosz:

"Things once difficult are easy but I feel no strong need to communicate them in writing. Now I am in good health, where before I was sick because time galloped and I was tortured by fear of what would happen next. Every minute the spectacle of the world astonishes me: it is so comic that I cannot understand how literature could expect to cope with it. Sensing every minute, in my flesh, by my touch, I tame misfortune and do not ask God to avert it, for why should he avert it from me if does not avert it from others?...I was impatient and easily irritated by the time lost on trifles among which I ranked cleaning and cooking. Now, attentively, I cut onions, squeeze lemons and prepare various kinds of sauces."

My Life in Santiago - Gaps in the wall and Spanish diplomats

2011-10-15T11:41:00.000+01:00

Maria and I were having a drink in the garden above. She said, “ John, the Pilgrims’ Office is really busy in the summer, but what will you do living here in the winter? It gets dark early, it is cold and it rains a lot.” “Maria,” I answered with a smile, ”clearly you have never been to Scotland.”

Maria however wasn’t the first to wonder about life in Santiago. It is a small place compared to my home city in Scotland and the metropolis of London where I lived for many years. As a medieval town Santiago couldn’t be more different. But in term time it becomes a vibrant student city with all of the features of that. Bars and cafes are crammed and music throbs well into the night. When the students aren’t here the pilgrims are arriving in huge numbers. Santiago may be small but it is busy and exciting with new faces to be seen every day.

I thought I’d tell you some of the things I’ve been up to recently as well as showing you some of the places I hang out.

Just as in London my life here has its own rhythm. On Sundays I travel to Pontevedra to play at three Masses – 11, 12 and 1pm. Following a short rehearsal for the forthcoming week after the last service Sunday lunch beckons and that takes care of the day. Saturday mornings are spent preparing for Sundays usually with some practice on the electric piano at home. Then the Santiago equivalent of those long Saturday lunches in London. It is a time to meet friends with people calling in for a drink and a chat. I’m a regular in a few places now all within walking distance and friends know where to find me. The garden restaurant of the Casa Felisa (above) is hard to beat when the weather is sunny. It is also a great place to hang out on a warm evening and with lighting through the trees and plants the place has a Mediterranean atmosphere.

In Santiago there are good restaurants to be found in the most unexpected places. Down this gap in the buildings just along from the Pilgrims’ Office lies two restaurants with tables in the patio. I don’t like taking pictures of people eating when I don’t have their permission but you get the idea.

During the week will find me back in the Pilgrims’ Office for some of the time. I don’t go every day now. Pilgrims numbers are less and other projects are beckoning. I’m revising and editing guides as well as working on the development of a Welcome Service for English speaking pilgrims. This is supported by the Confraternity of St James and the Irish Society of Friends of the Camino. We have formed an International Committee to develop this and perhaps other projects. I’ll tell you more as plans emerge. It takes around a week to do a thorough revision of a guide book including preparing the versions for publication and I’m now trying to persuade other people to help make maps for the on-line guides as this would be a great bonus.

I try to call in regularly at the market in Santiago. Just a few steps from the Plaza Cervantes this place is great to visit and an essential resource for the resident. It has everything from many varieties of fresh fish and meat to a wonderful array of home grown vegetables. It also boasts a little restaurant where they make up their menu everyday depending on what is available in the market. The other day I was down there and a group of Spanish men had formed a table with upturned packing cases on which they had plonked a chilled bottle of white wine and a large bowl of freshly cooked clams from the restaurant. The sun was shining, they were laughing and frankly the scene was just perfect.

Language has been a challenge. I’m used to speaking a lot about different things. I can hold a basic conversation in Spanish and working in the office is no problem. I can discuss religion and politics if the other person is very patient and helpful. All the time I’m getting better. But I’m having to learn lots of new words. What do you call haddock and herring in Spanish? How do I ask the butcher for a rack of lamb or the cut of beef I need to make roast beef? Why do I need to know these? You might ask...well my friends have been showing a huge interest in my cooking skills and having held a first dinner party all in Spanish successfully I’m now committed to more. Foolishly I’ve promised them a Burns’ Supper in January replete with Haggis. Watch this space.

I’ve got myself organised at home with internet and cable television. I mention the latter because one of the wonders of modern technology is that if a programme dubbed in Spanish was made in English you can make it revert to the original at the touch of a button. The beloved BBC news has returned.

Santiago isn’t London but it does well with music festivals and concerts. A couple of weeks ago I was at a performance of the El Barbero de Sevilla in the concert hall and there is more I want to see later in the year.

One of the good things about living here is my ability to explore some of the pilgrim routes in a way I’ve never been able to before and I’m working on one page guides with the transport links for anyone who wants to try the last stages of another route after they have arrived in Santiago.

Last Sunday evening I noticed the weather forecast for the week showed there was to be a heat wave. On Monday I got the bus to Ferrol and walked down the Camino Inglés to Sigueiro. It was lovely and I visited one or two people along the way I now know. When I got back I decided to fulfil a long held ambition and walk up the Pico Sacro. This Holy Peak dominates the Ulla Valley and can be seen for many miles including from Santiago. The Via de la Plata passes the base of this mountain during the last stage into Santiago. All of the guide books I have read invite the pilgrim to take a detour of a few kilometres to ascend 600m to the peak. I’ve never met a weary pilgrim who would consider such madness at the end of a long pilgrimage. So off I went and four hours after leaving my flat I struggled up the steep walkway to the peak. The temperature was soaring. My calf muscles were screaming and beads of sweat were dripping from my forehead. As I emerged on top there standing cool as a cucumber was a man who said to me in perfect English, “you came up there very quickly.” When I got my breath back I discovered this was Miguel a recently retired Spanish diplomat who had worked for many years in the Spanish Embassy in London. He offered me a lift back down the mountain in his air conditioned Mercedes. It would have churlish to refuse, don’t you think?

This morning has been spent doing a little practice, cleaning the flat, laundering and ironing clothes and paying bills. These things all still have to be done.

I’ll soon get ready to go and meet some people. Where will we go. Perhaps down this other narrow gap...which leads to another terrace...at the back of another special little restaurant.

Best wishes from Santiago. Good luck with your adventures.

Until next time.

John

Camino Portuguese Camino Portugués

2011-10-13T07:45:00.000+01:00

For people who have Googled or used other search engines looking for a guide to the Camino Portuguese from Oporto please be aware that a major revision of the current CSJ guide to this route is underway. This is being undertaken by Portia who has recently walked the route. Her revision includes specific walking directions to the coast out of Oporto.

It is a big task revising a Guide and whilst it is in preparation if anyone is leaving soon to walk this route they may contact Portia direct for an update:

revportia1@msn.com

Walking every route

2011-10-04T13:17:00.001+01:00

You know the feeling. You have arrived in Santiago after your pilgrimage. The friends you met on the camino have dispersed. Some have gone for flights home. Others have set off walking to Finisterre and Muxía. You are on your own and having visited the main churches and museums there isn’t a lot to do. Sometimes just sitting around taking in the atmosphere of Santiago is satisfaction enough. Sometimes though pilgrims wish they were still walking and their minds turn to what their next camino might be. I’ve certainly had this experience and over the last few weeks on my day off I have been exploring how to walk the last, or the last couple of stages of the main routes to Santiago. I’ve discovered that they are accessible by public transport and make an excellent one day walk. You don't need a guide book for the routes as they are all very well waymarked. I’ve also discovered there are other spectacular walks in and around Santiago which I will tell you more about in future.

Walking on the Camino Portuguese

This is simplicity itself. Get on your gear and take the train from Santiago to Pontevedra. This is a very beautiful medieval city which is worth exploring. Come on a Sunday and hear me playing the organ there! The route is well waymarked and you can walk the stage to Caldas de Reis – a distance of approximately 23 kms. There are regular buses back to Santiago from Caldas de Reis.

Pontevedra to Caldas de Reis:

Train or Bus to Pontevedra // 23 kms walk to Caldas // Bus back from Caldas

A second very accessible option is to walk from Caldas de Reis to Padrón. This stage is described by some as amongst the most beautiful of the whole route. It starts in Caldas which is famed for its thermal baths which boast healing qualities. There is a public footbath for pilgrims. This stage is 19 kms.

Caldas de Reis to Padrón:

Bus from Santiago to Caldas de Reis // walk to 19 kms to Padrón // Train or bus back from Padrón

Finally on the Camino Portuguese is the last stage from Padrón to Santiago. The starting point is Padrón train station which is only a 20 train ride from Santiago. Simply turn Right on the platform alight onto (opposite the hotel) and walk straight ahead until you come to the church and the yellow arrows start. Or detour into town to try the famous pimientos de Padrón. Walk all the way back to your hostel in Santiago!
Padrón to Santiago: Train to Padrón // walk 19 kms back to Santiago

Exploring the Camino Francés

The odds are that you will have walked the Camino Francés and you may not want to go back to it. But I loved walking out to Lavacolla experiencing a constant stream of pilgrims coming towards me, then walking back with them into the city, passing through Monte de Gozo on the way. If one of your loved ones has come out to meet you in Santiago you might tempt them to experience a bit of the camino by walking this route with you. It is 20 kms in total.

Santiago to Lavacolla to Santiago: walking all the way

What about the Camino Inglés?

Some people find the final stage of this route into Santiago a bit disappointing compared to the others. I don’t and I am amazed at how near the route brings us to the city by way of forest and country paths before urban walking begins. The traditional last stage begins in Sigüeiro which is 17 kms from the Cathedral in Santiago. You get there by bus. I’ve discovered however that the same bus goes on to Deixebre which is near the route. If you take this option you will add 5 kms of beautiful country and forest walking to your day. If starting at Deixebre ask the bus to stop at the church. Turn Right i.e. with the church on your Left and walk along this road (with a coloured pavement in places) until you come to a bus shelter on your Right after approximately 1 km. Turn Right and follow the arrows.

Deixebre (or Sigüeiro) to Santiago:

Bus to Deixebre/Sigüeiro // walk back 22 or 17 kms to Santiago

The Via de la Plata

This was my first route and retains a special place in my heart. The Camino Levante amongst others joins this route as it makes its way to Santiago. I very much enjoyed going back to the little village of Ponte Ulla to walk the 22 kms back home. Since I had last been there they have built a new bridge for the high speed train the AVE. It dominates the valley. In a strange way though I think it and the old bridge which now sits in its shadow enhance the character of the scene. Plenty of cardiovascular exercise today!

Ponte Ulla to Santiago

Bus to Bus to Ponte Ulla // walk back to Santiago

Bus and train timetables.
All of these suggested starting and finishing points are easily accessible by train or bus from Santiago:
http://horarios.monbus.es/

http://www.renfe.com/viajeros/index.html

Buen Camino

John

All the numbers...

2011-10-01T17:54:00.001+01:00

Pilgrim numbers continue to grow during September keeping up the record breaking trend.

From 1 - 30 September 26,008 pilgrims were received in the Pilgrims' Office.

The full analysis for the year to date: 1 January - 30 September 2011 is as follows:
Total number of pilgrims received by 30 September = 161.925

Country      Number of Pilgrims

Spain          88026 (54,36%)
Germany    14676 (9,06%)
Italy            11320 (6,99%)
Portugal      7691 (4,75%)
France        6969 (4,30%)
USA           3165 (1,95%)
Ireland      2408 (1,49%)
Holand     2076 (1,28%)
UK            1970 (1,22%)
Canada     1743 (1,08%)
Austria      1642 (1,01%)
Poland     1637 (1,01%)
Brasil       1524 (0,94%)
Belgium   1464 (0,90%)
Denmark 1380 (0,85%)
Corea        1293 (0,80%)
Australia   1052 (0,65%)
Sweden    1026 (0,63%)
México     1022 (0,63%)
Switzerland 941 (0,58%)
Chec Rep    879 (0,54%)
Norway     732 (0,45%)
Hungary     669 (0,41%)
Argentina   575 (0,36%)
Japan        571 (0,35%)
Finland    553 (0,34%)
Slovenia    536 (0,33%)
Slovaquia 521 (0,32%)
South Africa 431 (0,27%)
Venezuela   379 (0,23%)
Colombia    350 (0,22%)
Russia         215 (0,13%)
New Zealand 185 (0,11%)
Romania    169 (0,10%)
Ecuador 150 (0,09%)
Uruguay 146 (0,09%)

Gender

Gender    Number of pilgrims
Male        93266 (57,60%)
Female     68659 (42,40%)

Mode of transport Number of pilgrims

On foot   134458 (83,04%)
Bicycle   26987 (16,67%)
On Horseback 450 (0,28%)
Using a wheel chair 30 (0,02%)

Motivation for making the pilgrimage
Motive                                    Nº de Peregrinos

Religious and other reasons    80604 (49,78%)
Religioso                                 71348 (44,06%)
Not religious                            9973 (6,16%)

Starting Point

Starting point          Number of pilgrims

Sarria                     35315 (21,81%)
S. Jean P. Port       15833 (9,78%)
León                      9692 (5,99%)
Cebreiro               8871 (5,48%)
Roncesvalles        8322 (5,14%)
Ponferrada           7289 (4,50%)
Tui                      6833 (4,22%)
Oporto                5842 (3,61%)
Astorga               5414 (3,34%)
Pamplona           3708 (2,29%)
Burgos               3496 (2,16%)
Le Puy               2741 (1,69%)
Vilafranca         2621 (1,62%)
Oviedo - C.P.   2598 (1,60%)
Valença do Minho 2542 (1,57%)
Resto Portugal       2466 (1,52%)
Irún                 2243 (1,39%)
Ferrol             2209 (1,36%)
Ourense         1991 (1,23%)
Sevilla           1979 (1,22%)
France           1791 (1,11%)
Triacastela     1711 (1,06%)
Oviedo           1346 (0,83%)
Rest of C. León 1304 (0,81%)
Rest of Asturias 1153 (0,71%)
Lugo - C.P. 1097 (0,68%)
Ribadeo 1062 (0,66%)
Samos 939 (0,58%)
Santander 879 (0,54%)
Logroño 843 (0,52%)
Somport 767 (0,47%)
Bilbao 766 (0,47%)
Ponte de Lima 697 (0,43%)
Holand 639 (0,39%)
Germany 639 (0,39%)
Vilalba 579 (0,36%)
Salamanca 569 (0,35%)
Gijón 568 (0,35%)
Lisboa 547 (0,34%)
Avilés 450 (0,28%)
Rest of País Vasco 424 (0,26%)
Sahagún 419 (0,26%)
Zamora 402 (0,25%)
Rest of Asturias - C.P. 380 (0,23%)
Madrid - C.F. 354 (0,22%)
Bélgium 311 (0,19%)
Puebla de Sanabria 298 (0,18%)
Resto Cantabria 262 (0,16%)
Jaca 260 (0,16%)
Vega de Valcarce 247 (0,15%)
Braga 247 (0,15%)
San Sebastián 247 (0,15%)
Suiza 246 (0,15%)
Carrión de los Condes 234 (0,14%)
Frómista 234 (0,14%)
Neda 230 (0,14%)
Baamonde 216 (0,13%)
Gudiña 214 (0,13%)
Lourdes 193 (0,12%)
Sto. Domingo de la Calzada 190 (0,12%)
Cataluña 185 (0,11%)
Madrid 182 (0,11%)
Granja de Moreruela 169 (0,10%)
Puente la Reina 167 (0,10%)
Mondoñedo 161 (0,10%)
Fonsagrada - C.P. 160 (0,10%)
Porriño 151 (0,09%)
Vigo 147 (0,09%)
Mérida 142 (0,09%)
Hospital de Orbigo 137 (0,08%)
Rabanal del Camino 137 (0,08%)
Lourenzá 133 (0,08%)
Arles 127 (0,08%)
Navarra 127 (0,08%)
Vezelay 122 (0,08%)
Muxia 121 (0,07%)
Zaragoza 120 (0,07%)
Hendaya 112 (0,07%)
Com. Valenciana 110 (0,07%)
Abadin 109 (0,07%)
Cáceres 107 (0,07%)
Rest Europa 102 (0,06%)
R.Pais Vasco 101 (0,06%)
Resto C. León - V.P. 100 (0,06%)
Estella 97 (0,06%)
Barcelona 94 (0,06%)
Valencia 91 (0,06%)
Laza 90 (0,06%)
Verín 85 (0,05%)
Austria 83 (0,05%)
Chaves-Portugal 82 (0,05%)
Montserrat 80 (0,05%)
Molinaseca 79 (0,05%)
Grandas de Salime - C.P. 76 (0,05%)
Rest Andalucia 76 (0,05%)
Rest de Extremadura 68 (0,04%)
Finisterra 65 (0,04%)
Grandas de Salime 64 (0,04%)
France 61 (0,04%)
Rábade 60 (0,04%)
Tineo - C.P. 60 (0,04%)
Xunqueira de Ambia 59 (0,04%)
Canfranc 58 (0,04%)
Cast. la Mancha 58 (0,04%)
Fonsagrada 56 (0,03%)
Italy 55 (0,03%)
Com. Valenciana 52 (0,03%)
Granada 52 (0,03%)
Castilla La Mancha 50 (0,03%)
Tineo 49 (0,03%)
La Rioja 49 (0,03%)
Allariz 45 (0,03%)
Povoa de Varzim 45 (0,03%)
Castilla la Mancha 42 (0,03%)
Cadavo 42 (0,03%)
París 40 (0,02%)
Huelva 36 (0,02%)
Malaga 35 (0,02%)
Cataluña 34 (0,02%)
Valladolid 33 (0,02%)
Rome 31 (0,02%)
La Mesa 30 (0,02%)
Nájera 30 (0,02%)
Benavente 29 (0,02%)
San Sebastian 29 (0,02%)
Salas 28 (0,02%)
Badajoz 27 (0,02%)
Córdoba 27 (0,02%)
Castrojeriz 25 (0,02%)
Rest Galicia 22 (0,01%)
A Guarda 21 (0,01%)
Vegadeo 19 (0,01%)
Murcia 18 (0,01%)
San Juan de Ortega 13 (0,01%)
UK 12 (0,01%)

Employment status

Occupation              Nº de Peregrinos

In work                  39780 (24,57%)
Students                 29394 (18,15%)
Technicians           22305 (13,77%)
Retired                  7308 (10,69%)
Self employed        15556 (9,61%)
Teachers             12788 (7,90%)
Civil servants      8223 (5,08%)
Manual workers   5227 (3,23%)
House wives        3550 (2,19%)
Recently unemployed 3389 (2,09%)
Artists                  1339 (0,83%)
Directors            1085 (0,67%)
Priests                 711 (0,44%)
Farm workers     487 (0,30%)
Nuns and other religious 472 (0,29%)
Sailors              177 (0,11%)
Sportspeople     82 (0,05%)

Age ranges

Range Number of pilgrims

30 - 60 92824 (57,33%)
< 30 47410 (29,28%)
> 60 21691 (13,40%)

Caminos

Route                     Number of pilgrims

Frances-Camino     116884 (72,18%)
Portugues-Camino 19551 (12,07%)
Norte-Camino de    11066 (6,83%)
Via de la Plata        6962 (4,30%)
Primitivo-Camino   4493 (2,77%)
Ingles-Camino         2445 (1,51%)
Otros caminos         338 (0,21%)
Muxia-Finisterre     186 (0,11%)

Camino Levante - pictures that paint thousands of words

2011-09-26T07:00:00.000+01:00

There are too many to post them all. Every time I look at the 1000 or so photographs I took during the 50 days walking from Valencia different ones appear to say most. Here I have tried to capture some aspects of the route, some of the fun and fellowship and one or two of the people (and animals) I met along the way. This is the last of my postings on this route for the time being...enjoy!

Yet another ruined castle I imagined myself living in

Who needs a guidebook when all you have to do is keep the aptly named "The Finger" in sight

Storks on every church bell tower and every telegraph pole - some amount of babies!

The name of the street in which I am going to live in my castle

And one evening during dinner the entire band marched in playing

One of two dogs who "adopted" us

An unforgettable dinner served through the bars in an enclosed convent

Working hard in the blistering heat

"How many sheep do I have? Only enough to keep me."

Hmmm - he didn't know this was being taken and doesn't yet know it is on the world wide web!

"I ask for nothing more than the sky above me and the camino beneath my feet"

Amen to that!

Is the Camino Levante well waymarked?

2011-09-20T17:48:00.001+01:00

This route is very well waymarked indeed. Here is a selection of the arrows, waymarks, indicators and others on the way:

Not close enough

2011-09-10T12:38:00.003+01:00

Although the bull still stands on the horizon few pilgrims pass. August has come and gone. There are no queues waiting on the office opening. The weather has turned and today the rain beats down on Santiago. Still the tranquility of a quieter city can change in an instant, like yesterday out of the blue 200 young people arrived in a long line from the Camino Portuguese. So too when the sun eventually appears and the sound of the buskers fills the streets competing with the chattering bustle of the tour groups. Amongst this I overheared a conversation between one of my colleagues and a pilgrim. This colleague is very special. A person who has no guile, as we would say in Scotland. In the most disarming and charming way she was challenging the pilgrim. She was challenging all of us. “Do you really mean your pilgrimage meant nothing spiritually to you?” she asked to confirm what they had written. “Walking through the beautiful countryside, thinking about your life and meeting and sharing with other people was only a sporting or cultural experience?” she teased with mischievious eyes. “What about thinking about how you might change your life now? no thoughts at all?”

Rather than rampant evangelism my colleague was simply trying to ensure that if the pilgrim wanted a Compostela they confirmed that their pilgrimage was at least for some spiritual motivation. But she got me thinking. Spiritually what did the 50 days walking the Camino Levante and all of the other pilgrimages mean to me? I find this so hard to talk about. But in thinking about it I was inspired by a letter I got from an antipodean friend in the middle of the August rush. It is about their experience of pilgrimage. I am still reading it from time to time. It is full of doubt and wonder. Like me. Like most pilgrims, I think.

I look sometimes with pity and at other times with jealousy when people stand up in Church and appear to say with utter conviction "I believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, Maker of heaven and Earth." Creeds never did anything for me. Certainly not as much as pilgrimage. I think I spent my whole life developing a method of being in the church with all of its beauty and musical power whilst being insulated from the institution. There are no arrows for the path I have followed to what may be to some the self-evident conclusion that I need to journey towards God rather than the church. My parents felt I had lost my way when I didn't take the career they thought I should, or marry the "right kind" of girl. I've used these words myself with my own children. Useless words. Wrong words. I hadn't lost my way. I was finding my way. I was looking for arrows in a church where there were none. I was looking for signs that God actually exists. I tried very hard. Nothing came.

Then slowly in the heat of the long meseta I saw the world was a lot bigger than me. In the mountains I saw the raw power of a waterfall, the stately form of a startled deer, an exquisite wild flower blossoming. Across my path I watched the ants and caterpillars march with some purpose of their own. Above the eagles circled high. Heat and distance and solitude. Sweat on my back and a dull ache in my toes. Mile after mile. Never a thought of stopping. Of just chucking it. "Taxi for Walker" never entered my head. Not once. For all of its pain this is too good.

Then for this essentially private person the beat skipping feeling of glimpsing a figure on the horizon. Another pilgrim? Walking faster to catch up with them. The excitement of meeting another human being. Someone else in the lifeboat. Or looking up a sun drenched hill on a long afternoon to see a shepherd lift his arm in greeting. Conversations with an adopted dog. Could I ever admit to this? Swapping recipies with an old lady in a bar. Meeting another pilgrim who got a taxi on their first day and who would obviously never reach Santiago. The old man with the bad knees who almost died laughing when invited to come along and hug the Saint himself. The spunky nun, all in black, who was the first and only to respond to my invitation to join in our pilgrimage with a "when do we leave?" The other ones in black shrieked with laughter.

Enjoying the profound silence of the morning. Often precious moments of deep reflection. Often not thinking about anything. Brainwashing in the best sense. Enjoying walking alone and then coming together with my compañero to chart the way forward. Talk about the world, politics, singing old songs and inventing new ones, discussing what those ants who are marching across the trail in double columns might be planning.

Could a cold beer taste more delicious than the first glass on arrival? Those special moments only pilgrims know about. When the pack is laid down. The throbbing of relief when you sit and the weight comes off weary feet. Boots off, toes curling in delight at the freedom and the heaven of a long hot shower becomes bliss on those evenings when a hot bath is available. Then reviewing the day over dinner and planning tomorrow over dessert.

I was very lucky that we were joined on our journey by Rebekah. A friend. She brought new things to talk about. Another person to be silent with in the mornings and chat with at dinner. She just brought herself and we all got to hang out together for a while. Friendships are funny things I’ve realised. Some people you think are going to become friends don’t and others become life-long friends. It is a strange alchemy. Mostly it seems to me friendships work when friends don’t ask or expect each other to change. Just to be. I have but a few. All deeply valued.

Rebekah is also responsible for the funniest line in the whole pilgrimage. We arrived overheated and very tired at an anonymous town with the grand name of Siete Iglesias. If it has ever had seven churches they, and the people who went to them, were long gone. We had booked cheap rooms in what turned out to be the lowest quality accommodation of the 50 days on the road. This place was a dive. The people who ran the place were nice enough country folk with toothless smiles and wild unkempt hair. We passed a few cars disintegrating in the long grass on the way in and our rooms felt the same. These rooms brought a new meaning to the word “basic”. Especially the bathrooms which instead of windows had holes in the wall which opened onto the common corridor. Every, and I mean every, sound was transmitted. The showers would have been adequate had there been a curtain or screen. If you blew too hard you could have blown holes in the towels. Let’s not even go into the creepy crawlies we suspect we heard scurrying in the night.

It was here Rebekah gave the best one liner of the trip when she said with huge understatement, “this place could actually be the Bates Motel if they had shower curtains.”

That very morning we walked into the dawn. It made up for everything.

Later we got slightly lost. Road works had disrupted the arrows. We found our way back to the route. We looked up and an arrow pointed to our destination.

If anyone asks, which I hope they don’t, “did you meet God or come closer to God on your pilgrimage?” I now have a kind of an answer I am satisfied with.

If God is in the face of friends and the intimate companionship of walking the Way together, I’m closer to God. If God is in the breathtaking vistas, the flowers and animals, the path that never seems to end but always does, I’m closer to God. If God is in the kindness of strangers who have appeared on every Camino, then I am closer to God.

How close I ask myself? Not close enough...I’ll need to walk again.

Camino without end

2011-09-09T16:56:00.000+01:00

You cross the line, not walk along it!

Camino Levante - where we slept

2011-09-05T16:50:00.000+01:00

One of the few albergues

Rooms in a posh Casa Rural (25€ each)

Unfortunate name for a nice hostal

They gave us the whole bar

Next time they gave us the whole house (15€ each!)

At 15€ each for a single room with private bath this is the best value on the route

Albergue at Oseira - 50 beds and no pilgrims

Numbers, number numbers...

2011-09-01T13:26:00.000+01:00

Pilgrims numbers up yet again

The end of August saw records being broken again with the highest number of pilgrims recorded for the period 1 January to 31 August outside of a Holy Year.

At close of play yesterday the Pilgrims’ office in Santiago had issued a staggering 135.920 Compostelas.

This compares to 2009, the year before the last Holy Year, when in the same period 110.326 pilgrims were received.

Significantly this year by the end of August the number was greater than during the Holy Year in 2004 when 134.422 Compostelas were issued.

So, the upward trend continues.

Here is the full analysis:

Total number of pilgrims received between 1 January 2011 and 31 August 2011

Country	Number of pilgrims
Spain	75475 (55,53%)
Germany	11587 (8,52%)
Italy	9802 (7,21%)
Portugal	6703 (4,93%)
Francia	5543 (4,08%)
United States	2789 (2,05%)
Ireland	1759 (1,29%)
Holanda	1705 (1,25%)
United Kingdom	1469 (1,08%)
Austria	1404 (1,03%)
Canadá	1325 (0,97%)
Poland	1270 (0,93%)
Corea	1189 (0,87%)
Brasil	1180 (0,87%)
Belgium	1147 (0,84%)
Denmark	1021 (0,75%)
México	886 (0,65%)
Australia	809 (0,60%)
Switzerland	786 (0,58%)
Sweden	781 (0,57%)
República Checa	687 (0,51%)
Hungría	585 (0,43%)
Norway	581 (0,43%)
Japan	465 (0,34%)
Argentina	460 (0,34%)
Slovenia	459 (0,34%)
Finlandia	441 (0,32%)
Slovaquia	435 (0,32%)
South Africa	316 (0,23%)
Venezuela	310 (0,23%)
Colombia	297 (0,22%)
Russia	181 (0,13%)
Rumania	149 (0,11%)
New Zealand	145 (0,11%)
Ecuador	131 (0,10%)
Chile	130 (0,10%)
Uruguay	119 (0,09%)
Lituania	99 (0,07%)
Perú	91 (0,07%)
China	74 (0,05%)
Croacia	56 (0,04%)
Estonia	55 (0,04%)
Bulgaria	52 (0,04%)
Andorra	49 (0,04%)
Puerto Rico	49 (0,04%)
Rep. Dominicana	45 (0,03%)
Israel	44 (0,03%)
Luxemburgo	41 (0,03%)
Grecia	39 (0,03%)
Taiwán	35 (0,03%)
Filipinas	34 (0,03%)
Ucrania	32 (0,02%)
El Salvador	29 (0,02%)
Cuba	27 (0,02%)
Malasia	23 (0,02%)
Bolivia	22 (0,02%)
Costa Rica	22 (0,02%)
Irán	22 (0,02%)
Islandia	22 (0,02%)
Guatemala	20 (0,01%)
Panamá	20 (0,01%)
Malta	18 (0,01%)
Paraguay	18 (0,01%)
Singapur	17 (0,01%)
Jordania	14 (0,01%)
Letonia	14 (0,01%)
Armenia	13 (0,01%)
India	13 (0,01%)
Honduras	12 (0,01%)
Líbano	12 (0,01%)
Marruecos	12 (0,01%)
Nicaragua	12 (0,01%)
Turquía	12 (0,01%)
Argelia	10 (0,01%)
Macedonia	10 (0,01%)
Pakistán	10 (0,01%)
Serbia	10 (0,01%)
Islas Feroe	9 (0,01%)
Antillas Holandesas	8 (0,01%)
Otros	8 (0,01%)
Indonesia	7 (0,01%)
Libia	7 (0,01%)
Liechtensein	7 (0,01%)
Moldavia	7 (0,01%)
Myanmar	7 (0,01%)
Omán	7 (0,01%)
Chipre	6 (0,00%)
Dominica	6 (0,00%)
Namibia	6 (0,00%)
Albania	5 (0,00%)
Comores	5 (0,00%)
Tailandia	5 (0,00%)
Bosnia	4 (0,00%)
Brunei	4 (0,00%)
Camerún	4 (0,00%)
Etiopía	4 (0,00%)
Irak	4 (0,00%)
Angola	3 (0,00%)
Bielorrusia	3 (0,00%)
Cabo Verde	3 (0,00%)
Emiratos Arabes Unidos	3 (0,00%)
Gabón	3 (0,00%)
Madagascar	3 (0,00%)
Nigeria	3 (0,00%)
Siria	3 (0,00%)
Sri Lanka	3 (0,00%)
Swazilandia	3 (0,00%)
Vietnam	3 (0,00%)
Barbados	2 (0,00%)
Guinea Ecuatorial	2 (0,00%)
Haití	2 (0,00%)
Nepal	2 (0,00%)
Senegal	2 (0,00%)
Seychelles	2 (0,00%)
Sudán	2 (0,00%)
Trinidad y Tobago	2 (0,00%)
Túnez	2 (0,00%)

Gender

Gender	Number of pilgrims
Male	78668 (57,88%)
Female	57252 (42,12%)

Mode of transport

Mode

Number of pilgrims

On foot

112892 (83,06%)

Bicycle

22620 (16,64%)

Horseback

382 (0,28%)

Wheelchairs

26 (0,02%)

Motives for making the pilgrimage

Motive	Nº of pilgrims
Religious and spiritual	67915 (49,97%)
Religious	59688 (43,91%)
Not religious	8317 (6,12%)

Starting point

Starting point	Nº of pilgrims
Sarria	27993 (20,82%)
Cebreiro	15428 (11,48%)
Roncesvalles	9622 (7,16%)
Tui	8269 (6,15%)
Ponferrada	8230 (6,12%)
León	6941 (5,16%)
S. Jean P. Port	6481 (4,82%)
Astorga	5306 (3,95%)
Ourense	4700 (3,50%)
Vilafranca	3717 (2,77%)
Oviedo - C.P.	2873 (2,14%)
Burgos	2445 (1,82%)
Pamplona	2339 (1,74%)
Triacastela	1890 (1,41%)
Ferrol	1426 (1,06%)
Le Puy	1384 (1,03%)
Francia	1324 (0,98%)
Samos	1182 (0,88%)
Ribadeo	1115 (0,83%)
Valença do Minho	1112 (0,83%)
Neda	985 (0,73%)
Resto Portugal	956 (0,71%)
Resto C. León	926 (0,69%)
Somport	894 (0,67%)
Vilalba	881 (0,66%)
Fonsagrada - C.P.	812 (0,60%)
Sevilla	753 (0,56%)
Vigo	685 (0,51%)
Logroño	631 (0,47%)
Oviedo	618 (0,46%)
Resto Asturias	615 (0,46%)
Otros	521 (0,39%)
Oporto	511 (0,38%)
Holanda	473 (0,35%)
Santander	466 (0,35%)
Arles	423 (0,31%)
Irún	420 (0,31%)
Frómista	410 (0,31%)
Mérida	407 (0,30%)
Lugo - C.P.	401 (0,30%)
Sahagún	378 (0,28%)
Resto País Vasco	365 (0,27%)
Salamanca	341 (0,25%)
Jaca	314 (0,23%)
Carrión de los Condes	275 (0,20%)
Sto. Domingo de la Calzada	273 (0,20%)
Bélgica	265 (0,20%)
Hospital de Orbigo	265 (0,20%)
Zamora	255 (0,19%)
Finisterra	246 (0,18%)
Puente la Reina	237 (0,18%)
Braga	230 (0,17%)
Verín	230 (0,17%)
Puebla de Sanabria	224 (0,17%)
Mondoñedo	223 (0,17%)
Castilla La Mancha	204 (0,15%)
Avilés	182 (0,14%)
Vega de Valcarce	176 (0,13%)
Bilbao	160 (0,12%)
Madrid	157 (0,12%)
Resto Cantabria	156 (0,12%)
Estella	151 (0,11%)
Gijón	151 (0,11%)
Paradela	151 (0,11%)
Porriño	129 (0,10%)
Cataluña	124 (0,09%)
Madrid - C.F.	120 (0,09%)
Valencia	106 (0,08%)
Suiza	96 (0,07%)
Lourdes	86 (0,06%)
Resto C. León - V.P.	81 (0,06%)
Canfranc	80 (0,06%)
Fonsagrada	76 (0,06%)
Vegadeo	71 (0,05%)
Castrojeriz	70 (0,05%)
Cast. la Mancha	67 (0,05%)
Com. Valenciana	64 (0,05%)
Italia	59 (0,04%)
Resto Asturias - C.P.	59 (0,04%)
Barcelona	56 (0,04%)
Laza	54 (0,04%)
Austria	50 (0,04%)
Grandas de Salime - C.P.	48 (0,04%)
Ortigueira	48 (0,04%)
Lisboa	44 (0,03%)
Vezelay	40 (0,03%)
Nájera	40 (0,03%)
Hendaya	39 (0,03%)
Rábade	34 (0,03%)
La Bañeza	32 (0,02%)
Grandas de Salime	30 (0,02%)
Salas	30 (0,02%)
Cáceres	29 (0,02%)
Resto de Extremadura	29 (0,02%)
San Juan de Ortega	29 (0,02%)
Tineo - C.P.	29 (0,02%)
Republica Checa	27 (0,02%)
Viveiro	27 (0,02%)
Granada	23 (0,02%)
Fonfría	21 (0,02%)
Vincios	20 (0,01%)
Reino Unido	18 (0,01%)
Valcarlos	15 (0,01%)
Tineo	14 (0,01%)
Huelva	13 (0,01%)
París	13 (0,01%)
Córdoba	12 (0,01%)
Badajoz	8 (0,01%)
Peñaseita	8 (0,01%)
Benavente	7 (0,01%)
Leyre	7 (0,01%)
Dinamarca	6 (0,00%)
Grado	6 (0,00%)
Otros	6 (0,00%)
Valladolid	6 (0,00%)
Inglaterra	5 (0,00%)
Luxemburgo	5 (0,00%)
Castilla la Mancha	4 (0,00%)
Finlandia	4 (0,00%)
Guitiriz	3 (0,00%)
Roma	3 (0,00%)
Betanzos	2 (0,00%)
Cea	2 (0,00%)
Irlanda	2 (0,00%)
Muxia	2 (0,00%)
Pontedeume	2 (0,00%)
Silleda	2 (0,00%)
Artieda	1 (0,00%)
Otros	1 (0,00%)
El Escamplero	1 (0,00%)
La Mesa	1 (0,00%)
Ventas de Narón	1 (0,00%)
	1 (0,00%)

Employment status

Group	Nº of pilgrims
Estudiantes	36976 (27,51%)
Empleados	20968 (15,60%)
Liberales	16113 (11,99%)
Tecnicos	12942 (9,63%)
Profesores	9807 (7,30%)
Obreros	9081 (6,76%)
Jubilados	8720 (6,49%)
Funcionarios	7189 (5,35%)
Amas de Casa	6920 (5,15%)
Parados	1694 (1,26%)
Directivos	1024 (0,76%)
Sacerdotes	1017 (0,76%)
Artistas	780 (0,58%)
Agricultores	552 (0,41%)
Religiosas	278 (0,21%)
Marinos	257 (0,19%)
Deportistas	94 (0,07%)
Oikoten	10 (0,01%)

The castillos in Castillo La Mancha!

2011-08-26T16:46:00.002+01:00

Old time religion

2011-08-23T17:00:00.001+01:00

Camino Levante - things you only see when you walk!

2011-08-19T16:45:00.004+01:00

Dear Friends,

Santiago is swarming with pilgrims arriving every day. There is no time to write about the themes which have been in my head since I returned from Camino. Today and in the days to come there are some images which will describe it better than I can. Check out the last photograph in today's selection. I love it! I will return soon. Promise.

John

Without fear

2011-08-09T22:30:00.000+01:00

I’m afraid of the dentist. Big time. I used to do anything to avoid going. Then I found a wonderful dentist who believed in pain free dentistry. The only thing that was painful was his bill. I had to leave him behind when I left the UK and as luck would have it in two successive days here in Santiago I got toothache and broke my glasses. Anxiety levels rose. I phoned a friend who made an appointment for me not only with his dentist but with his optician. That made things worse. Now I had a deadline. At 12.30 on Monday I had to meet a new dentist, explain what was wrong and hope they didn’t hurt me too much. Fear grows fear. The anxiety spiralled. I thought, “you still have to learn a lot of Spanish...how do you say “ this pain is dull, deep, gnawing and at times it throbs?” But off to the dentist I went. As if accompanying a child to their first day at school my Gallego friend came with me. We sat in the waiting room and minutes ticked by. "I read your last blog," he said, “do you have more stories of the people you met on the way?” And so I found myself telling him about a few of them. I started with the funniest.

One day we walked into a little town in Castilla La Mancha called La Roda. With 16,000 inhabitants it boasts a selection of large mansion houses with armorials and is famed for little custard and cream pastries called Miguelitos. Why they have that name I do not know but I reckon if there ever was a man called Miguel after whom they were named he was probably enormous. These little pastries are deadly and must weigh in at 1000 calories apiece. We had booked into the Hostal Molino and we duly arrived to be greeted by the landlord Don Antonio who holds court in his bar in the same style as one of the Spanish aristocracy of the middle ages. He told us he had been the host of the establishment for 39 years as he plied us with cold beers and tapas which were very welcome at the end of a hot day’s walking. Antonio also pointed out a group of other pilgrims who were there. These were 8 Belgians walking the Camino Sureste which crosses the Camino Levante at points. They were a group of older people walking with a support vehicle and reducing the daily etapas to fit their level of comfort and fitness. They were sitting at a table in the bar which looked just like every other Spanish bar...older men were playing cards, a couple chatted at the bar, someone was playing the fruit machine, customers went outside to smoke unaware of the stench their smoke was causing as it blew back in through the open door. All the while with fatherly pride Antonio regaled us with stories about his family. “I have two boys, both with two doctorates each and BMWs. BMWs are much better than Mercedes, don’t you think?”

After a rest and walk in the town we arrived back at the bar for dinner. It was Friday night around 9pm. The Belgians were already at table. The old men still played cards. Money rattled into the fruit machine and the smokers smoked outside. A couple were scoffing fried sardines at the bar. The television droned from a shelf high on the wall. And amongst this traditional scene were about 30 or so young men dressed to the nines, holding hands, kissing, hugging and chatting. The Belgians were agog. They nudged and winked and stared. The old men continued with their card game. Then to a loud chorus of greetings a chap arrived dressed in a frock, with pearls, hair held up and a ring on every finger. Cheeks were duly kissed all round and the new arrival took a seat in the corner. I thought the Belgians would need physiotherapy on their necks at some point. Then in scenes more redolent of parts of London or New York it was obvious The Dealer had arrived. Money was palmed from one to the other. The smell of marijuana blew in from the terazza and at one point a girl with pupils like pin pricks and a complexion as white as snow staggered from one end of the room to the other. The old men continued playing cards except one of them who turned his chair round to gaze with undisguised curiosity at the scene before him. Then a bus arrived. The boys all got on and 8 pairs of Belgian eyes followed exit of the chap with the backless dress and high heels. Antonio rather nervously approached. “Can I get you anything?” he enquired. “Antonio,” I said, “isn’t it a shame how communities like this have problems with drug abuse among the young people?” His eyes theatrically widened , “drugs? drugs? What drugs? We have no drugs in La Roda... come with me tomorrow and we will see some very nice houses and have some Miguelitos.” He said with complete seriousness. The Big Man kicked me under the table, his message was clear, "in the face of this level of denial ...don’t you dare mention the transvestite in the corner."
Next morning there was a special programme on La Roda TV as the Mayor launched their Anti Drugs strategy.

The next person I want to tell you about is Señora Hilda who with her husband has run the Hotel Rio in Ponte Ulla at the end of the Via de la Plata for 30 years. I remembered her from 2006 when I walked from Seville. At that time we had a long conversation about the challenges of bringing up children in an increasingly material society. This time we had a chat about how pilgrims have changed over the 30 years Hilda has been serving them. Her comments were interesting. “Pilgrims nowadays get angry more easily, they are more impatient. But,” she paused for reflection, ”perhaps pilgrims 30 years ago expected less? Maybe we all did?” Hilda is still very happy to serve and help pilgrims. The last time I was there she had allowed a pilgrim with a little donkey to sleep in her garden. Hilda sees the growth in the popularity of the pilgrimage as entirely a good thing. “Pilgrims aren’t always what they seem” she said, “often they are better.”

At this point the dentist’s receptionist appeared and apologised for keeping me waiting. Only a few more minutes. In that time I recounted some of the kindnesses we had received on the camino. The gruff farmer who gave us oranges, the restaurant who didn’t have a Menu of Day but gave us three courses including bread and wine for 9 euros, the woman who gave us the wrong directions and then got in her car and drove after us to lead us the correct way, the woman who opened her dining room and kitchen on a Sunday night just to feed the two of us with a mountain of food. The many strangers along the way who touched us and asked us to hug the Saint for them. All of their kindnesses are embodied in the anonymous farmer who stopped us on the path through his village. “It is hot,” he said, “would you like some cherries?” At that he reached up and picked the most delicious ripe cherries from the tree. As he handed them to us he took in the height of the Big Man and said, “go on pick those up there, as much as you want, pick them sin miedo.” Without fear.

As these words left my lips the receptionist appeared. “John, the dentist will see you now.” Her name is Dr Eva. She has little English. But with that pilgrim combination of words, gestures, drawings and a dictionary we understood each other just fine. We both learned new words from each other. She diagnosed the problem and applied the treatment. I got the message she also believes in pain free dentistry. I was relieved and at last sin miedo.

Having the stomach for it

2011-08-02T21:08:00.000+01:00

“How was your camino?” is a question I ask almost every pilgrim who comes to the Pilgrims’ Office in Santiago. Some become very emotional about the experience. Others describe the blisters and tendonitis they suffered inevitably adding “merece la pena” – it was worth the pain. All of them however are united in saying that is the other people they met on the way who made the entire experience memorable, and for many, life changing.
Here in Santiago things have been busy. After a few quiet days the number of pilgrims arriving is increasing as the August surge begins. In fact the reordering of the Pilgrims’ Office in its new accommodation has led to greater efficiency and far shorter waiting times for pilgrims. Everyone is pleased. Gossip and rumour about the missing Codex continue to abound in the bars and in the newspapers. The rumour with most currency is that it is an “inside job” perpetrated to embarrass Cathedral officials some of whom are deeply unpopular. I suspect this theory may be wishful thinking.

But I’ve hardly had time for thinking. I’ve unpacked boxes, reluctantly put away camino gear, rearranged the apartment, installed new telephone and internet, become registered to live in Spain, and opened a bank account with a Spanish bank so that I can have a mobile telephone contract with a Spanish provider. I’ve also registered with the Spanish Health Service so that I can see a doctor when I need to and get repeat prescriptions at a discount price as I did in London. To do all of this I’ve been to the police station, local government offices, banks and the medical centre not once but several times. It has been exhausting. Processes which are time consuming in one’s native language are strange, arcane and energy sapping in a different language. I’ve got used to being called a “foreigner” and having to go to the departments which deal with “Extranjeros”. Poco a poco the ingredients essential for permanent daily living here have been coming together.
There are many new faces in the Pilgrims’ Office and I have been getting to know them as well as starting to work there regularly again. Welcoming fellow pilgrims continues to be rewarding and I am developing ideas about how more volunteers can come to Santiago to provide information and support to pilgrims arriving. However I become increasingly convinced that such volunteers have to have been walking pilgrims themselves. I’ll tell you more about this project as it emerges.

I’ve also started playing regularly in Pontevedra. The church is very well attended and is extremely beautiful. At the family mass on a Sunday morning there are over 300 children in addition to the adults. You can imagine the noise. The services at 12 and 1pm are more sedate affairs with much better music nowadays I may add! Then there are the funerals and weddings. In the last 10 days I’ve played at 5 funerals. This could well become a full time job.
But the magnetism of the camino remains and I miss walking. On Thursday I’m off to walk back to Santiago on the Camino Portuguese from Padron. In the few quiet moments I also been browsing through my photographs from the Camino Levante. Everytime I see the face of some of the people I met on the way I remember vividly what we talked about. I thought I’d share some memories with you:

Meet Manuela, 76 years of age who still works everyday in the family bar in Rionegra del Puente. She and her husband live upstairs with their son and his wife. There is a really good albergue in Rionegra but we struck up a conversation with Manuela and she offered us a house for 15 euros each. Yes, a house. Well, I tell a lie, it was actually a bar...their former bar with their former flat above. Private garden, facilities for washing clothes and the opportunity to play at being a barman. I couldn’t miss the opportunity. Manuela is a character with a huge sense of humour and we had a great laugh especially when I showed her the photograph and told her I was opening up in opposition to them. However Manuela’s brows knitted in earnest when I said that her dish “callos” was delicious. “Would you tell me your recipe?” I asked. Her voice fell to a whisper lest anyone would hear the secret family formula...it was then she uttered the memorable words...”You take one whole stomach and first wash it with salt and vinegar...”

Second in line for a mention has got to be Segundo who at the age of 79 almost overtook me on a long open stretch of the camino. Our friend Rebekah Scott had joined us for a few days walking and Segundo just joined the party as if he was going to walk all the way to Santiago with us. “I walk for miles every day” he explained as his walking stick tapped out his footsteps. Very quickly Segundo related his whole life. Born into a huge family he had worked the very land around us. He peppered everything he said with tangents...”the route used to be over there” he pointed. Then he rounded on Rebekah...”and what about you? Where are you from? And how do you get time to walk like this, I mean, you’re young?” he said as he drew appraising eyes off me in comparison to Reb’s obvious youth. Before Rebekah could draw breath he rhymed off the next set of questions, “ are you rich because you are obviously too young to be on a pension?” As we walked on the sun beat down. I tried the tactic of asking him questions but he was undeterred. It was my turn. “What about this heat, this sun?” He asked me, rapidly adding, “where’s your hat, don’t you know that you are bald?”

Next up is Carmen who I met in Puebla de Sanabria she is pictured with the packed lunch she provides on departure to all pilgrims who stay in her hostal. As ever a conversation ensued within minutes of us meeting. I told her some camino stories and she told us about her life there and her family. “I have triplets” she said proudly. “Three daughters, all aged 18 now and very beautiful.” I asked her if bringing up three babies all of the same aged hadn’t been difficult? “Not all all,” she replied, “It was wonderful, and still is.” “But isn’t your house like a war zone at times with three teenage daughters all the same age?” I enquired having some experience in these matters. “Not at all,” she said. “Of course they fight at times but mostly it is peaceful.” Carmen comes from a long line of twins and her husband also had twins in his family. Sadly they are no longer together. She never said why but what she did share might provide a clue. Leaning over the counter she said, “having triplets is the best thing that ever happened to me, in fact I passionately want another three before I am too old.” All we could do was wish her luck with that particular project.

In the next few days I’ll tell you more about the people I met on the way and what they said. Until then, remember...if you want to make callos take a whole stomach...

Letter from Santiago de Compostela

2011-07-16T14:26:00.001+01:00

Day 56 of the trip, day 50 walking

Dear Friends
On Monday morning we breakfasted well in Ponte Ulla 20 kms from Santiago. We were keen to get going but also reluctant to leave. This was the last day of a long camino in which we had walked almost 1300 kilometres in 50 days. During the last few days I’ve felt like an astronaut returning to earth. Whilst deep in the pilgrimage everything seemed very simple. The daily routine. The simple pleasures. Walking mile after mile through the heat and rain. Being rewarded with good company and cold beer. Praying regularly and realising that life can be simple. Two sets of clothes. No suits, no ties. I also realised this time apart would not be special if I lived like this all the time and in the last days my mind has gradually filled with a kaleidoscope of camino memories I want to write about, the usual family concerns, bills to be paid, things to be arranged, starting work in the Pilgrims’ Office, planning music in Pontevedra.

Above all I want to tell everyone who is interested that if you want to experience a Camino in the way that pilgrims did on the Camino Francés 30 years ago, don’t hesitate – go and walk the Camino Levante right now. The number of pilgrims setting out from Valencia Cathedral remain small but each year they are growing. Go now whilst pilgrims still remain an unfamiliar sight to local people along the way, where people respect pilgrims and go out of their way to help us, where you are more likely to have a drink or a meal bought for you than to be ripped off for having a foreign accent. The signage along the entire route is generally excellent. There are few albergues but lots of other types of accommodation. During the camino we slept in convents, houses, albergues, lots of cheap hostals, 10€ per person being the cheapest for an en suite room with TV. We also slept in some unusual places...I’ll tell you more about that another time. Promise.

Over these 50 days we walked through rich countryside with crops abundant. The market garden of Spain. We walked through meseta, the long, long miles of Castilla La Mancha where every village has a castle. I passed several which I thought might very well do Johnnie Walker as a country retreat. The landscapes were as magnificent as the welcomes we were given. This truly is the land of Don Quijote. We slept in a convent where the Mother Superior asked us what a walking pilgrimage was like. We explained the daily routine walking separately with the Big Man usually taking the lead. “Well, he has longer legs,” she observed wryly, “maybe you are just a Scottish version of Don Quijote and Sancho Panza?” You can guess who is who.

In the first half of our pilgrimage we watched weather reports avidly and planned our days to try and dodge the storms and instant deluges innocently called chubascos. We walked fast when storm clouds gathered through intense humidity and were lucky to only be caught once or twice in the entire journey. The truth is we could have got wetter in Scotland at the height of summer.

Some of the stages were demanding but stamina grows quickly. After the flat plains of La Mancha we walked up to the village of Cerebros where hang gliders soared above us. The next day saw us going as high as them as we reached the top and the half way mark on our journey.

As well as the lush countryside and the open hearted local people we also saw another Spain. A country where the prolonged economic crisis is taking a heavy toll. There are literally thousands of building projects, large and small which have stopped in mid construction. The high levels of unemployment the consequence of over-lending for projects which could not be sustained. Parts of Spain are becoming littered with half built buildings. The “creesees” is on everyone’s lips, but one result is that some prices have dropped and others are being held constant. There isn’t a lot of cash around.

We also saw a Spain where in places drugs are a rising problem. Why should Spain be any different? So too are the problems which are being stored for the future by the rising levels of immigrants particularly from China and the Islamic countries. Every pueblo has a Chinese Bazaar and some of them are aggressively competitive. For example there is an outbreak of shops calling themselves El Corte Oriental using virtually the same corporate house style as that Spanish institution the Corte Inglés. The Chinese run “Cortes” sell everything from shoes to fresh bread at astonishingly low prices. In Toledo a local businesswoman brimmed over with resentment. “There is an invasion of these people” she said, “working for low wages, selling things at low prices, putting us out of business”. Yet market forces prevail and the same Spaniards who resent the wave of immigration queue each morning waiting for El Corte Oriental to open to buy bread and search its bargains.

In many places too intolerance is bubbling to the surface. In this country where the image of St James slaying the moors is a national icon they still have traditional re-enactments of the Spanish people repelling and expelling the people of Islam. In Mallorca and in Murcia to name only two places one group of Spaniards black up their faces to be slain or imprisoned by the defending white population. The long held sensitivity to Moslems is being pointed up in sharp relief as the number of people moving from Arabic countries increases. One of the sights I most enjoying seeing is that of the families and older people gathering of an evening or Sunday afternoon in the Plaza Mayor. In some Plazas in the South it was obvious there is now a Moslem corner. The divisions are obvious. “Look at their women wearing veils” said one Spaniard. Another complained, “and in this Catholic country, they want to build a mosque!” Strange thoughts in a country where Moslem women wore veils for hundreds of years and many Catholic churches and cathedrals are built on the sites of more ancient mosques. But blacking up your face and pretending to kill Moslems is no answer to the integration which is badly needed. I had to smile when I came across a building with the design of a “mosque” it was even called the “Mezquita” or the mosque. Grotesquely sacrilegious to some eyes this building had been a nightclub. Now for sale. The crisis!

We walked through all of this Spain, some days from dawn to dusk. A land of many parts with many languages and peoples. We met few other pilgrims and before Zamora when the route joined the Via de la Plata the only others we met were those walkers who turned back and cyclists racing forward. We met one cyclist who said that he had to be in Santiago on the 11th of June. Our plan was to arrive on the 11th of July!

The greatest gift of this Camino was undoubtedly the people. Our quiet companionship with each other and the blessing of company in the evenings on such a long journey. The local people we met who cherished what we were doing. Being joined by our friend Rebekah for some days. We walked out together one morning at dawn the three of us praying quietly as the light of the new day revealed the countryside around us. I have 943 photographs and just as many stories. I will tell you some of them in the days and weeks to come.

A life-long task for me has been trying to sort out my “needs” from my “wants”. That ambition has been central to this pilgrimage. I lived more happily than I expected with only two sets of clothes carrying everything I needed on my back. The message of the little I need to live was driven home in all sorts of ways. Meet Angel who with a very mischievous smile assailed us one day. The temperature was soaring. The day before 46 degrees had been recorded in the North of Spain. That afternoon felt just as hot. “You two are very brave walking to Santiago in this heat” he said. “And you are Scottish!” he hooted. He had lived in the same pueblo all his life. I asked him how many sheep he tended. He replied, ”Just enough for me to live.”

“Valiente” (brave) was what the nuns in Valencia Cathedral called us when they gave us our very first sello. It was what the lady called us as she stamped our credenciales in Ponte Ulla. It was a word which was to be repeated all along the Camino. Yet, in truth we didn’t feel brave at all. The word was used yet again at Mass in Silleda two days before our arrival. An elderly couple, both with walking sticks, approached. “Are you pilgrims? Where have you walked from?” they asked. When we replied they insisted on touching us. “Will you two brave pilgrims hug the Saint for us?” they asked. “It will be a privilege”, we replied. Our Camino was indeed a privilege. Bravery had little to do with it.

However on the last day as we approached Santiago such humble thoughts were cast aside as we marched proudly into the city. We passed through a pueblo where flags adorned the streets and people danced in the Plaza to live music. “How did they know we were coming today?” We joked. In reality it was a village fiesta. Then over the rise of the hill we saw the spires of the Cathedral. Just as our pace quickened fireworks boomed and exploded high in the sky. We laughed at the scale of the celebration of our arrival. Then we realised it was the rehearsal for the fireworks display on the Feast of St James on 25th July. One thing however which must have been God-sent just for us was the bagpipe tune Scotland the Brave the gaitero played as we entered the great Plaza Obradoiro to mark our final destination.

The Saint hugged, tomb prayed at, final sellos and Compostela obtained we made off for a celebration drink. Joaquin, the cathedral organist, popped in. We told him of our triumphant entry into the city. “Ok,” we said, “flags, bands, dancing and fireworks might just have been a coincidence ... but the bagpipes playing Scotland the Brave must have been meant just for us”. Ever the realist he replied, “I don’t want to disappoint you two brave pilgrims but he’s been playing that tune over and over for days. I’m sick of it.”

Until next time. Thank you all for your messages and support.

John

A quick note from Toro

2011-06-23T11:15:00.002+01:00

Dear Friends

Day 38 of the trip, 33 days walking - 770 kms from Valencia

I´m writing to you from Toro just round the corner from the magnificent church (above) of the Colegiata of Santa Maria la Mayor consecrated in 1174. I´m sorry I haven´t written sooner but since Toledo I have been totally in the grip of this pilgrimage. I can´t think about anything else. Every day along the way I think of stories to tell you but they disappear as fast as they come as we walk on through magnificent countryside. Some of the walking has been tough - going over the mountains, rising up to the hilltop town of Cerebros where hang gliders jumped off the cliffs and passing the halfway mark of this trip a few days ago at some 1300 metres above sea level. It has been hot. Most days by the afternoon the temperature is in the mid 30´s. As you know that can be hell to walk in.
We were really lucky to be joined by our friend Rebekah who has written about her days with us. It was a joy to share some miles walking with her as we passed through little towns and villages - getting lost and getting found again! Rebekah and her husband Paddy provide a hugely valuable ministry to pilgrims in their home on the Camino Frances and I count myself lucky to be their friend.

Since I last wrote we walked from Toledo to the wonderful walled city of Avila where we leanrend more of the lives and works of St Teresa and St John of the Cross. We then came forward passing through Medina del Campo then on to Toro where we are going meet another friend from London who comes from this very town. We walked 34 kilometers to get here and the final climb in the searing afternoon heat was difficult. However this view from my bedroom window made it all worth it.

Along the way I´ve tried twice to write to you with pictures of the journey and twice my efforts have crashed with the antiquated computers in cyber cafe. I´m not going to try again until I get to Santiago. Tomorrow we will be in Zamora and then we will follow the Via de la Plata home.

I´ll tell you all my stories then!

Keep well.

John

Letter from Toledo

2011-06-08T17:21:00.001+01:00

Dear Friends

Today I had a coffee in a small, nondescript bar halfway up the hill to the magnificent city of Toledo. I sat in the same seat where 10 years ago I watched the twin towers fall on 11 September, 2001. On that day only the family who ran the bar sat with me in stunned silence as the horror of the terrorist attack unfolded. As the clouds of dust billowed from the falling buildings the voice of the grandfather broke the silence. “This will lead to war” he muttered. Alas his prediction came true.

Back then I made the short train trip to Toledo from Madrid where I was having a brief break. For a long time I had wanted to visit the city and in particular see the cathedral with its famous sacristy overflowing with paintings by El Greco and Velazquez. This time I entered the city as a pilgrim. Footsore, tired and hungry. Our arrival in Toledo means we have walked almost 500 kms. Time to take stock, do a washing and rest. There are some long stages ahead.

Since I last wrote to you the Camino seems to have completely taken over our lives. The other day I stopped in a village square in the mid afternoon and slipped off my boots sighing with the relief that a “boots off” break brings. I was rubbing my feet when a local man plopped himself down on the seat beside me. He looked at me with the typical cocktail of respect and “you must be mad” amusement when I told him I was walking to Compostela. “Where have you walked from today” he enquired. No matter how hard I tried I couldn´t remember. “Errrr, errrr,” I hesitated as I pulled my credencial from my pocket. Only when I saw the sello could I name the place I had left only 6 or so hours before. It was an easier matter to tell him where I was going that day. The pilgrimage seems to do that to us. We don´t remember where we have been as if the information is irrelevant to our purpose. Rather we become fixed on where we are going. If only I could apply that lesson to my life in general. The past is gone. Concentrate on what is to come.

On Camino though we are focussed on the more immediate future of the few metres in front of us as we walk along the Way. It is through walking at my own pace I can see and think about the things which otherwise I would miss. This less walked route is full of wildlife unused to passing pilgrims. Rabbits and hares burst out on the path. Lizards skitter into the long grass. Butterflies dance around the still blooming spring flowers which colour the borders of the paths in reds, purples, blues and white. A field of white poppies follows red. Ants march in perfectly formed lines creating ant-highways full of industry and purpose. The other day I watched a single ant slowly push an improbably huge load. All the time crickets rub their legs together in the long grass and pollen collecting bees buzz. A couple of pilgrims on a tandem whizzed past. Only walkers can experience all of this. I don´t want to overstate the effect but for me this is like brain washing in the best sense. I can´t get enough of it.

Life on pilgrimage is one of routine. Get up, wash, pack the rucksack, breakfast, find the first of the arrows of the day and follow them through many experiences until the next bed, food and sleep are in sight. It is a time set apart. In some small ways very like the lives of some religious people who live a life of prayer in communities closed off from the everyday world. We met some of them when we decided to stay at the Convent of the Trinitarian nuns in Toboso. Their Order is over 1000 years old and their daily routine of silence and prayer has been well established over that time. We arrived at the convent having phoned in advance to book as advised in the guidebook. “The charge is 20 euros each,” said the nun who answered the phone. When I hesitated since this was 3 times what had been charged in a previous convent she went on, ”well we have to clean and maintain the convent.” I enquired if dinner was included. With a sigh she said that something could be arranged. The accommodation was very adequate and the sister who received guests explained the rules – particularly the curfew. Being in at 9pm was fine staying out until 10pm, “no esta bien”. We were there by 9pm and as instructed pressed the bell. A voice from behind a screen greeted us with “Ave Maria”. We were told to wait. Another door opened and we were beckoned into a simple room divided by a grill. There was a table set for food and one of the bars had been removed. A simple dinner of vegetables, boiled potatoes and fruit was passed through the gap. Through another door appeared a nun in her 70´s with milky white skin and a pure white habit. “I am the Mother Superior,” she said, “I hope you understand Spanish”. For the next 45 minutes or so she engaged us in conversation, about the pilgrimage and pilgrims´ motives for doing it and she answered our questions about the Order. She herself was born in Toboso. She entered the convent at the age of 17 and had been Superior for 32 years. She spoke about their vocation to pray for the world and for that part of their Order where members provide social and health care for the poor. It was a memorable conversation carried out through the bars. We said goodnight and each went our respective pilgrim ways.

La Mancha remains exotic and several times ruined castles atop green hills have been distant landmarks which we have walked towards. Don Quijote continues to appear regularly.

In the days since I last wrote Spain has seen unprecedented bad weather. Two days ago it was raining in all of Spain. Hailstones dented cars in Seville and rivers burst their banks. Ón camino I´ve seen rain in the last week or so which was exactly like the monsoons I witnessed in India. For the most part the weather remains hot and clammy a precurser to wild thunder with both forked and sheet lightening before the heavens open. A few days ago we saw the storm clouds gathering. As we passed a tractor a couple of farm workers were crowding into the cabin. “Do you know a tormentera is coming?” they asked. “Oh yes” we replied. They beat a hasty retreat and we quickened our pace. Thankfully only being caught on the periphery of the deluge. We looked back to see the castle we passed being soaked. We are becoming aficionados of weather forecasts as we try to time leaving and arriving to avoid the worst of the storms and the highly focussed cloud bursts (chubascos). We´ve largely been lucky so far and thankfully the temperature has now dropped and the forecast is better for the days to come.

We continue to have encounters and adventures. In San Clemente we were looking round a huge church which appeared to have a a new, modern organ. The priest appeared and engaged us in conversation. I suspect he hadn´t spoken to strangers for a while because he showed us round the 12^th century church showing us early photographs of original artefacts long since destroyed. “They say some of these were destroyed in the civil war” he said with a smile, “but I suspect the priest sold them”. He was equally frank in his views on the economy of Spain and the increased social problems. He excused himself to go off and see some gentlemen of the road who had sought his help. “Nowadays” he said, “we have to distinguish between transient travelers and pilgrims.” Medieval accounts of the pilgrimage to Santiago show it has always been thus.

That evening Mass in the church was attended by 200 people, Afterwards he called me over. “Would you like to try the organ?” he asked and introudced me to the wee nun who had played during the mass. She was so short her feet couldn´t reach the pedals. They were very proud of the new instrument purchsed with money from a donation and even more proud when as I played the Big Man´s voice soared to the vaulted ceiling. A magical moment. But no less such than a couple of days later when we stopped in a small village for breakfast. We had set out early and wolfed down the toast and milky coffee. We asked the woman behind the bar how to find the route out of the village. “Oh you just turn right and go down to the main road and turn left.” We set off and couldn´t find any yellow arrows. However she had been so sure of her directions we continued. Next we heard the horn of a car sound behind us. It was the woman. She jumped out, “I was wrong” she said, “follow me.” Off she went driving slowly and several steeets later we found the arrow. We couldn´t thank her enough for her help and she couldn´t stop apologising.

The last time I was here in Toledo the town was subdued in the aftermath of September 11. But it was still full of tourists, I waited in the queue, paid my money and shuffled round the cathedral with several hundred other visitors. The sacristy was breathtaking despite the crowds. I decided that this trip I´d go to Mass in the cathedral rather than sightsee. Last night we went along for the 6.30 mass. Whilst waiting I explained to an attendant that we were pilgrims and asked if we could get the stamp of the cathedral. Having consulted on his walkie talkie he told us to wait by a locked gate. Another attendant opened it and said just go into the sacristy and wait for the nun to come with the sello. The cathedral was closed. The sacristy was silent and empty. The lights were ablaze and we saw it in all of its glory. We didn´t mind at all waiting for the nun.

We now make our pilgrim way to Avila. I have no idea what will happen next. In fact I have stopped thinking about that. I know my mind will continue to be occupied with thoughts inpsired by the sights and sounds of the camino, the people we will meet and those unexpected moments like when the afternoon sun is beating down and a breeze ruffles the hair of the crops lining the path cooling the sweat on my back. Momentary and exquisite. We are blessed.

Take care everyone. Thanks for your messages. I´ll write again when I can.

Abrazos

John

For more photographs go here

A letter from a place in La Mancha

2011-05-28T12:53:00.000+01:00

Dear Friends

When I read Cervantes many years ago I never thought I´d see the land he described in Don Quixote. For the last few days I´ve been vividly reminded of the story as I have walked along streets with the name through little villages in this southern region of La Mancha. When I met the man himself I could hardly believe I was here. It is day 11. We have walked 276 kms of this 1300 km route and we have stopped in a town called La Roda to rest, do a washing and plan the next steps. I´ve found a Locotorio with a dodgy internet connection and a dysfunctional keyboard so I thought I would let you know how we are doing. Thanks to everyone who has emailed me.
We arrived in a bustling Valencia on Monday 16 May. It was hot and the place was full of tourists. We had considered staying a day or two to explore the city but the combination of English voices and the magnetic allure of the Camino made us decide to set out the next day.

Having carefully dissected the weighty guidebook supplied by the Amigos Association we went to the Cathedral for our first sello. The giggling nuns couldn't believe we were undertaking such a long journey and were incredulous at our invitation that they join us. As we soon found out whilst the pilgrimage to Santiago is known throughout Spain there are so few pilgrims on the Camino Levante we have been treated to curious uninhibited stares for the last 11 days.

On leaving Valencia we were soon out in open countryside as over the next days this Way revealed its initial characteristics. This is a long, epic, blockbuster of a route where the vistas sweep to the horizon. It can only be done poco a poco as each stage has its own challenges and rewards. Some days have been hard. They have all been exciting. Quickly the days have started running into each other. What day of the week it is is largely irrelevant on camino and I had to ask today what date and day of the week it is!

The first days we passed rice fields which stretched for miles then acres of green, lush orchards where our passing shoulders brushed trees laden with nectarines, oranges and plums of many varieties. It has been hot walking with many stretches without shade counterbalanced frequently with the bubbling sound of water rushing and gurgling along seemingly endless irrigation channels. Fields of ripening wheat sitting at the bottom of mountains bedecked with lines of windmills give the impression that this is truly a land of plenty. As we go along farmers ploughing rich ochre soil and workers bent at backbreaking picking wave or stop to chat. Our destination seems incredible to them. When they hear we are both from Scotland they laugh as if we really must be joking.

Whilst inevitably in the bigger conurbations people are less spontaneous with us the engagement of local people in our pilgrimage has been the most moving and arresting aspect of our journey so far. Each day we have met people whose open hearted generosity has made us wonder what will come next. Let me describe some of it to you.

We´ve been welcomed into churches and homes along the way. In Almusaffes the priest gave me the biggest hug when he heard we were pilgrims. Farther on a big, gruff farmer in blue overalls chomping a fat cigar grunted “hola” in return. A moment later he called us back to give us themost delicious oranges. In another village church we discovered the women of the pueblo leading a Eucharistic service. They beamed to find pilgrims with them. “Hug the Saint for us” they shouted after us as we left. In Xativa the hostal owner came to meet us to show us the way. “This is a good thing you are doing.” He said. In Vallada one afternoon temperatures were soaring. We took a chance and pressed the doorbell of a casa rural which had a sign saying works were being carried out. The lassie who answered said that she didn´t have a room but could let us have a self-catering apartment. This was the same price as the hostal the previous night. Homemade dinner,breakfast and packed lunch made this the cheapest stop so far. In the albergue in Almansa we met Willy from Austria and a sullen,silent Italian man. We never saw the Italian again. Alas a couple of days later Willy, veteran of the Camino Frances and the Via de la Plata decided this route was not for him and departed. Passing field after field of red poppies as we entered the next place a man came out of his house and asked if we needed anything. “Cold water, please”. He invited us in to meet his family who were finishing lunch. We took the water gratefully but had to turn down the offer of fresh creamcakes. We slept in the convent that night welcomed by the delightful nuns. I counted the entries in their visitors book. Only 90 pilgrims had stayed in the last three years including a greeting from my friend Andy.

We then braced ourselves for the unavoidable 38.5 km stage to Higueruela. For this and some other stages we had to carry the water and food we needed for the day. Our budget is 1 litre each for every 2 hours walking. Go figure the weight. We set out early and our shadows were long in the light of dawn.

After an hour or so we encountered a pilgrim walking towards us. Was this some hardy soul walking home from Compostela? We asked ourselves. No, this was a Valenciano who was giving up. “This route is too hard and I have blisters,” he said miserably. We continued on and it was a beautiful day of walking. At around 27 kms just as our feet were throbbing in the full heat of the day the waymark told us to turn Left and walk the final 10.7 kms on the road. Grimacing we set to it. A while later a car drew up being driven by a doctor on call. “I´m a member of the Amigos of the Camino in Albacete. Do you need anything?” he asked. No sooner had he driven off when the police drew up. “Be careful,the national cycle race will pass soon.” So it did. The cyclists went whizzing past with full entourage including press and TV. I wonder if they even noticed the two baking pilgrims walking slowly up the road.
Just as the heat and the length of the stage were making us despair we came accross a group of partying young people.They had set up a picnic table laden with beer, sprits and refrescos at the side of the road.They had obviously been celebrating the cyclists passing by. In any major city of the world we would have given such young people a wide berth but this is rural Spain.They called us over, were astonished at our pilgrimage and insisted on sharing with us. We refused the proferred whisky or vodka but greedily consumed the lemon fanta with ice. “Only 2 kms to go” they shouted as they waved us off.

As if to welcome us there was a full blown fiesta in the village with procession and marching bands. The band appeared in the restaurant later and played until late. That night we slept soundly in the comfortable albergue. We were delighted as we discovered it has a freezer and we were able to freeze all of our bottles of water for the following day. This meant as it slowly melted we had cold water to drink until the afternoon. This has long been one of my crazy business ideas for the Camino Frances. Somone will do it!

We´ve met three other walking pilgrims in this first phase. Two gave up and the Italian disappeared.

On the way into Albecete we met Eneco who was clocking up an average of 100 kms a day on his bicycle and yesterday just before I chatted with Jose the shepherd three other cyclists rode past at speed.

Our daily routine has become established. Walking separately for a period of prayer and reflection in the morning and afternoon. Scouting out the arrows together when necessary although to be honest this has been seldom on this perfectly waymarked route. Sharing the costs of accommodation for hostals and company for each other in the evenings for Mass and dinner.

Physical problems have been minimal.One negligible blister for me and a couple of days of walking in long sleeves and trousers for the Big Man due to his unenthusiastic use of sunscreen. All fully recovered.
We´ve kept our kit to a minimum which has been difficult for a route which will take the best part of 7weeks. For example that´s 7 weeks worth of prescription drugs we´ve both had to to carry.
My biggest bonus has been my Kindle and I am slowly working through the 12 books I bought for this pilgrimage journey. Yesterday I downloaded DonQuixote to browse again. After all I am in La Mancha.
I hope you are all well wherever you are. I´ll write to you again whenever I can.
Buen Camino
John
Ps –you can see more photographs here

Trust the arrows

2011-05-15T07:07:00.001+01:00

Meet John, the big gruff Irishman I was walking with on the Camino Inglés last week. For years he has been going on about coming walking with me in Spain and now his ambition is fulfilled. His reaction to the Camino was fascinating. As an older chap he had done a lot of training. He discovered the “London Loop” a series of day walks around the capital. Each stage starts at an underground railway station and finishes at another. John had also planned his equipment thoroughly. He had got his feet used to walking in the shoes he was going to use and had walked with a fully packed rucksack. I’d also sent him a slide show of the route so he would know what to expect. Still he was surprised. I asked him to describe how he felt...”I never thought it would be so beautiful and straightforward. You told me about the yellow arrows marking the way but I couldn’t quite believe it.” His sense of wonder about the journey continued as we walked along. He saw arrows of all kinds from the granite waymarks put in place by local authorities to the yellow arrows painted by local Amigos Associations. I told John that I had left Seville Cathedral following an arrow on the pavement and that and many hundreds of other arrows showed me all the way to Santiago 1000kms later. “Amazing” John concluded. And so they are.

On Tuesday more yellow arrows will guide me out of Valencia. I’ve never been there before and I am very much looking forward to exploring the city. Yesterday I picked up credenciales from the Pilgrims’ Office and tomorrow the local Amigos in Valencia are meeting me so that I can buy the guidebook for the route. Then I’m off in the company of another friend who walked with me on the Camino Hogmanay last year. The Big Man is also one of the South London gang and we three had a brief reunion before John returned to the UK. The Big Man is a very experienced camino walker but the 1300kms route from Valencia to Santiago is the longest either of us have undertaken. We should be on pilgrimage for about 7 weeks more or less. This route, the Camino Levante, is only walked by a few pilgrims each year and those who have done it say it is beautiful and at times challenging. My friend Andy who writes a super spiritual blog has walked most of the route and recommends it. He says that the waymarking is generally very good so yet again for most of the time all I’ll have to do is trust the arrows.

Trust has featured a lot in my life recently as I’ve moved home to another country. At times I’ve found it pretty scary. I’ve been worrying about whether I’ll fit in here, make friends, be understood, understand what they locals are saying? I’ve been waking up in the night asking myself random questions...what do I ask for in the butchers if I want to buy a sirloin steak or a kilo of mince? What’s the word for carrots again? How do shirt sizes work in Spain? Will I ever see or hear the BBC again?

Well the other evening I cooked dinner for friends having been at the shops and bought all the stuff. I’ve got my computer up and running and can listen to the BBC anytime I want. I bought a shirt in the Corte Inglés yesterday and I was out with other friends on Friday evening and I understood what was being said and with their help managed to communicate myself. I’ve also been making phone calls in Spanish. I’ve become quite fluent in the language of booking rooms in hostals but phoning to arrange to meet a friend or indeed to talk to someone who is a relative stranger made me really anxious. But it had to be done. Taking a very deep breath I phoned Don Jaime the parish priest of the Basilica of Santra Maria in Pontevedra. “It’s John the organist” I said, “May I come and see you on Friday, as I’d like to learn more about the music in the church and perhaps play the organ a little?” He couldn’t have been more helpful and told me to come before 11am. I turned up at the appointed hour to find the church filling with people and himself vested to start Mass. “The organ is open” he laughed, “ it is the Feast of Our Lady of Fatima, so you must play for us.” I played, they sang and already I began to feel a little at home. After the service he led me over to his office for “a chat”. After some preamble he got to the point. “What are you doing on Sunday?” he asked. I was non committal. “You see,” he went on, “we have 40 children from our own and a number of other parishes being confirmed. The Bishop will be there and of course the church will be full. Would you play?” So yesterday was spent emptying boxes of music, planning a programme and rehearsing. Just exactly as I have done in Scotland and London for most of my adult life. The Spanish may have different names for them but the notes of music still make the same sound.

As I came out of the train station in Pontevedra I wondered how easy it would be to walk to the Basilica. I was about to ask directions when my eye was drawn to a familiar sight right across the road. A waymark with a yellow arrow. This was the Camino Portuguese and I knew the route went through the centre of the town so I just followed the arrows. Guess what? They took me to within 200 metres of the church. A good omen or what!
So, friends, this morning I’ll follow the arrows again to play at my first major event and on Tuesday I’ll start following them again on my pilgrim way from Valencia. I’ll try to let you know from time to time how I am getting on.

Red Skies

2011-05-09T06:05:00.001+01:00

It is 6am and I have been awake for 45 mins. As I stretch out I am amazed as ever by the body's powers of recuperation. Last night I went to bed feeling the stiffness in my muscles and the throbbing in my feet which is familiar to Camino walkers. This morning all gone to be replaced with the delicious feeling of excitement that today we will walk into Santiago.

I'm excited because I will be staying there. Yesterday I got a message that my goods and chattles had arrived safely. There are many boxes to be emptied. That thought however doesn't detract one bit from how much I am looking forward to walking into Santiago today.

It has been a great week on the Camino Ingles. I have been walking with one of my friends from South West London where I used to live. (I really like the sound of that: "where I used to live!) John is one of the group of my  firm friends who meet regularly for a drink and a chat, which is more often than not a debate. Our gang is the evidence that middle age men still like to play like wee boys. Only now we can drink more. John is the most senior of us and the most competitive. He's big. He's Irish. And he is a builder. He is extremely bright and very well read. When we are all together John never introduces subjects for discussion like football or politics. Rather like a quiz master he asks questions, usually very loudly. "Does anyone know the chemical composition of nitroglycerine? Followed quickly by "what is the average number of words in a Shakespeare sonnet?

John is trying to retire but has been finding it difficult. Part of his strategy is that he has taken up walking and stage by stage he has been walking around London in a huge circle. He also decided he would walk to Compostela. At this announcement the boys, including me, replied "bet you don't". However I was duly delegated to lead an expedition.  This week John has experienced the glories of this little pilgrimage route. We were worried about the weather as there has been much rain and some storms in the region. However the weather was sunny and warm as we set off from Ferrol. We walked at a steady pace and at the end of the day strolled along the beach at Cabanas before crossing the long bridge into Pontedeume. Before dinner we walked down to the waterfront to see the sun set in a red sky. "Good weather tomorrow Johnnie" the big  Irishman pronounced and so it was to be. On the first day John had continued to ask me a stream of random quiz questions, "what do you call the colour of yellow on the house? "What is the latin name for that flower?" "Is it possible to have a tree that produces apples and pears?" On the second day as we climbed out of Pontedeume on our way to Betanzos I could tell he was silenced not just by the walk up hill but the beauty of the views looking back. On the way he began to return the many greetings of the local people who wished us "Buen Viaje" or "Buen Camino". The sky was red again as dusk descended on Betanzos. We visited the beautiful church of San Francisco and sat in tired silence. The big gruff Irishman lit a candle.
The following day we met a couple of Portuguese pilgrims. We were walking in shorts and light t shirts. They were fully laden with jackets, fleeces, trousers, gaiters, full boots  and backpacks which appeared to contain all their worldly goods. We also met Chris from New Zealand just as we were setting out. He was clutching a copy of my guide on which he had made notes. A thin, wiry chap Chris was the opposite of the Portuguese. He wore regular casual trousers and shirt,  carried a little rucksack and walked in regular casual brown shoes. I asked him where he started. "I left Ferrol yesterday" he said. "But that means you walked 50 kms all the way to Betanzos in one day!" I replied. And so he had. We caught up with him in Meson do Vento where he shared his meticulous notes on the guide. He set off next morning under a red sky promising to try and take two days to walk to Santiago. But I suspect he may have pushed ahead and I can imagine the looks on the faces in the Pilgrims' Office when he appears having walked a 5 day route in 3 days. However I'll be his witness.

The red sky of yesterday morning fulfilled the promise of the shepherd's warning and we were treated to a day of Galician heavy rain interspersed with periods of strong and very warm sun. As we walked all day through the rain my companion fell to silence most of the time. On our breaks we spoke of the route and as we ate our sandwiches in a bus shelter and last night at dinner the conversation was of life and love, faith and the lack of it, hope and ambition. There wasn't one quiz question.
As we ate in our hostal last night the sky glowed red. "Sun tomorrow" said Antonio as he served our salads. Today I'm excited for Big John as we walk our last hours to Santiago where he will spot the spires of the Cathedral and bask in his achievement as he stands in the square. Hugging statues and kneeling before alleged relics are definitely not his thing but I bet he'll follow the tradition anyhow.
John says this pilgrimage is among the best things he has ever done. He is wondering whether at his advanced age he can tackle a longer route. Of course he can. I can also hear him now when he is back in the pub with the rest of the tribe, "does anyone know the height of the spires of Santiago Cathedral?"

The St James Way

2011-05-01T07:54:00.000+01:00

I thought I’d tell you about this new route in England just before I leave for Spain. As if predicting how difficult I might find some of the goodbyes I’ve had to say recently the Confraternity of St James asked if I would write a guidebook to a new route they have devised from Reading to Southampton. This turned out to be the greatest pleasure which helped me train for the two caminos ahead as well as letting me see some of the most beautiful and historic part of England. I predict that this route will become a “must walk” for pilgrims in the United Kingdom. I am certain it will also attract visitors from overseas who may be travelling via London from the United States, Australia and other countries. For them the St James Way is an excellent way to do some initial training for a longer camino in France and Spain or simply to enjoy walking through English history, past ancient sites, historic towns, along canals and river banks, past thatched cottages and 12th century churches.

The route was first devised by Marion Marples the Secretary of the CSJ more than 20 years ago. It was walked by only a few people including guidewriter Alison Raju who produced the first set of walking notes. The CSJ now wishes to develop and promote this new route. The guide is almost finished and will be published on line by the CSJ.
This route is about 70 miles long and runs from Reading to Southampton. For pilgrims wishing to walk the route as part of their journey to Compostela they can fly to France or Southern Spain from Southampton, or they can continue on foot to Portsmouth on another route, the Pilgrims’ Trail, to cross by ferry.

Artist impression of Roman amphitheatre at Silchester

The route is based on the Roman road from Silchester via Basingstoke to Winchester, and also includes the St James churches at Bramley, which has wall-paintings including St James, and Wield, as well as the former Benedictine priory at Monk Sherborne, whose church became the parish church at Pamber (not to be confused with the Norman church at Monk Sherborne). From Alresford, the Way follows the Itchen Way to Winchester, England's capital under the Saxons. The cathedral was a Benedictine foundation, of which several buildings, including the Pilgrims’ Hall, survive. Also Benedictine were St Mary's Abbey, also called the Nunnaminster, of which some foundations can be seen, and Hyde Abbey, of which little remains. Nothing remains of the four friaries, though there are some fragments of the hospitals of St John and St Mary Magdalen.

The route continues following the Itchen Way, past the Hospital of St Cross, which still gives out a dole of bread and beer to travellers, and past Southampton airport to Southampton, where a few fragments survive of the Augustinian priory of St Denis (in the suburb now spelt St Denys).
However, the medieval walls of Southampton remain, with the gateways where pilgrims embarked for pilgrim destinations in France, Spain and the Mediterranean. Near the God’s Hospital Tower the Maison Dieu of St Julian’s accommodated pilgrims.
Ferries however no longer run from Southampton to France, so the Pilgrims’ Trail connects Winchester with Portsmouth via Bishop's Waltham, where there are remains of the palace of the bishop of Winchester, and Southwick, where the parish church, dedicated to St James-without-the-Priory-Gate, contains remnants of the former Augustinian priory founded by Henry I. There is an annual pilgrimage around 25 July (St James’s day) from Portchester church to Southwick, recalling the journey made by the Augustinian canons in c 1145 as they moved to a larger site.
Portsmouth, though largely a naval port, had a 13 century Hospital of St Nicholas, and wine trade with South West France. Recently, Time Team has excavated land around the Royal Garrison Church (founded 1212) to discover the plan of a medieval pilgrim hospital and Maison Dieu, where pilgrims would have stayed. The modern cathedral is based on a chapel of Thomas Becket, built by the Southwick monks.

The route starts at the ruins of Reading Abbey with the adjacent more modern church of St James and proceeds south through places such as Sulhamstead Abbots with its picturesque 12th century church. Then onward to Silchester with the remains of a Roman town. You actually walk in the shadow of the tall remains of the walls which were the town’s fortification before heading on to visit another St James church at Bramley. New Alresford (pronounced “Allsford” ) Martyrs Worthy, Kings Worthy, Preston Candover, Itchen Stokeand Itchen Abbas are beautiful villages which soon lead along the River Itchen to the historic town of Winchester.
There I was welcomed as a pilgrim in the great cathedral. The visitors charges were waived. “Yes we have a sello” confirmed the smiling receptionist. The cathedral is breathtaking in its size and beauty and the sun shone as I left to make my way just a few miles further along the river to the Church and Hospital of St Cross. I had a seen a television programme about it and wanted to see it for myself. Soon it loomed large sitting with perfectly manicured lawns. I made my way through the arched entrance and bumped into one of the brothers.

Legend has it that the Hospital's foundation originated in a walk that Henry de Blois, a grandson of William the Conqueror, took in the Itchen Meadows. He was supposedly stopped by a young peasant girl who begged de Blois to help her people, who were starving because of the civil war. The parallel with the Virgin Mary was not lost on de Blois, who was so moved by the girl's plight that when, a little further along the river, he discovered the ruins of a religious house, he resolved to use the site to establish a new community to help the poor. How much of this is fact is unclear, but we do know that Henry de Blois was young, wealthy and powerful: a monk, knight and politician in one. Appointed Bishop of Winchester in 1129 at the age of 28, he founded the Hospital of St Cross between 1132 and 1136, creating what has become England's oldest charitable institution.
The Hospital was founded to support thirteen poor men, so frail that they were unable to work, and to feed one hundred men at the gates each day. The thirteen men became the Brothers of St Cross. Then, as now, they were not monks. St Cross is not a monastery but a secular foundation. Medieval St Cross was endowed with land, mills and farms, providing food and drink for a large number of people - don't forget the water was unfit for drinking so copious amounts of ale and beer were needed!
“Are you coming to Matins?” he said with a smile. “May I?” I asked. Next thing I was ushered in to meet the others. They beamed when I said I was a pilgrim. Their smiles broadened when I explained about the St James Way and the guidebook. The service lasted 15 minutes and was a perfect start to a day’s walking. Before I left I was offered the traditional “dole” – a slice of bread and a cup of ale. I have to say it was a little early for beer, even for me.
From there the route meanders along river and canal reaching Southampton easily within the day.

The St James’ Way is easy walking. It can be done in stages and there is Bed and Breakfast accommodation available either on the route or nearby. With a little planning the route is very accessible. I recommend it.

And so dear friends I’m off. It has been a week or so of farewells. Tough at times but the tears shed herald a different future. My next post will be from my new home in Santiago after I have walked the Camino Ingles with a friend from London who has long wanted to walk to Compostela. Then with another friend I am off to walk from Valencia. I’ll keep you posted. 2 days to go!

Open the box

2011-04-21T11:18:00.003+01:00

I’ve been hesitating about writing about what is in the box. It seems too public. Too confessional. A little too personal. And yet there is nothing in the box, for all its secrets light and dark I wouldn’t share with a fellow pilgrim on the road to Santiago. I’ve also realised that the box contains some of the milestones of the longer pilgrimage I’ve been on. So here goes.
Over the past few weeks I’ve been trying to dispose of the clutter in my life. The clothes I haven’t worn for a year were ruthlessly separated from the rest and taken to charity shop or dump. My books have almost all gone save a half a dozen too unbearable to part with. Ornaments, pictures, that fancy thing to peel a cucumber and the steak knives still in their box are all gone. The white walls of my home are bare. I’ve done this before in my life when there has been a major change. I’ve had that feeling that I should get rid of everything but never had enough courage or faith or stupidity to do it. Because no matter how hard I try some things just have to stay with me. Someone else can throw them out one day. These are the things I’ve found all over the place and as I have encountered them I’ve been putting them in a box. As if to prevent myself filling it up I’ve put it on a top shelf where it sits both threatening me and tempting me to open it and relive the memories inside. Just one more time. I’ve now opened it to write this.

In a corner is a simple silver box blackened with age. The cover has the head of a Pope long since dead. It contains the rosary beads given to me for my first communion over 50 years ago. I can remember the day if I try. A child in school uniform egged on by proud parents into a church which would fuel a deep ambivalence for the rest of my life. Then my eye is drawn as if to escape the sacred to a piece of paper extracted from an old wallet. Once carefully folded it was looked at so frequently in its day the creases are separating. "My true love hath my heart...never was a better bargain driven." The little boy with his rosary beads could not have known what heartbreaks life would bring and also the joys. On balance I think I have gained much more than lost.
An ancient death certificate describes a family mystery of a long gone relative who died of multiple injuries having fallen from a window. Successive generations always pondered whether he jumped or was pushed. No one was quite sure the family legend had actually occurred until I did some research and obtained a copy of the certificate. The event is confirmed but the mystery remains unsolved.

The cheap leatherette pouch also held a mystery. It came from my parents’ house after they had both died. I remember the day I opened it to find a small cardboard box in mint condition. Unopened. From inside I drew out one by one four medals of shiny metal with crisp new ribbons which had never seen the light of day. I’ve taken them out today. The box is addressed to my father and contains the Burma Star marking his war service in that country. Also there is the War Medal which everyone got. I knew he had been in the war and I knew he had been in Burma. The other two: the Defence Medal for brave conduct in a non operational setting and the Battle of Britain Medal remain surprises. Not only had he not opened the box, he had never talked about what he actually did in the war. Rather he talked about how futile it was, how politicians could never be trusted to genuinely seek peaceful solutions before armed conflict, how his own church was compromised by not condemning Hitler. Some considered his views radical but he won everyone’s respect. He was the man in the street where we lived who wrote letters for people who couldn’t write. Who spoke up for fellow workers. Who had to educate himself but made sure I got and took the opportunities which had been denied to him.

I laugh when I see two other things in the box. My own “medal” presented by President Ortega, the Order of the 10th Anniversary of the Revolution in Nicaragua for work others did supporting medical aid when that country was war torn. And sitting ironically beside it two napkin rings from Charles and Diana’s Wedding. The Old Man thoroughly approved of the first and heartily laughed at the second.
The family photographs are there nestling with memorial cards and funeral Orders of Service. One or two special pens. A small and odd assortment of photos of people I know were family whose only record are the images in sepia tones. If I threw them out all memory of them would be gone

Placed carefully in the box are the photographs of my own children at all the various stages of their development. You can see their impish cheekiness. Their growing sense of adventure. Their beauty which is all the more acute to a father’s eyes. What could not be known then were the profound challenges they would face. But there are some things we cannot change. Sometimes all we can do is pray and when that appears not to work some of us walk.
That brings me to the last items I want to show you. They lie on top of all the things that bring memories of joy or sadness. They are my credenciales. To me more important than the Compostelas rolled into one cardboard tube, the Pilgrim Passports remain separate in all their glory. A glance at the sellos brings instant memories of walking in Spain; of particular places and memorable people. They are records of my journeys of hope because that’s how I’ve come to think about pilgrimage. I think it may be the special gift of the Camino. Pilgrims are hopeful people. We hope for a bed every night. We hope it doesn’t rain. We hope the food will be good in the next village. We hope that our water will last until the next fountain. We hope we will meet someone when we are lonely and we hope that the pilgrim we have met who won’t stop talking will go away. We hope that we can be as nice to other people as they are to us because we are pilgrims. When we go to bed at night with sore bones and throbbing feet we hope it will all feel better in the morning. It always does. So in the end the credenciales represent hope in the box. I’m quite happy with that thought.