REPEAT OSCAR WINNER

LOOK LATER FOR PHOTOS WHEN I CAN DOWNLOAD

Yes, another stunning triumph yesterday. I was chosen to do the reading on Pentecost Sunday at a pilgrim wedding in a little town of Rabanal, high up in the mountains. While my first award winning achievement was in the medieval city of Conques on Easter Sunday in a fabulous Romanesque jewel of a cathedral, last night´s repeat was in a simple village church undergoing restoration in a mountain town. Two pilgrims tied the knot. It was really quite moving--he was diagnosed with terminal leukemia 3 years ago, had treatment, then did the camino and is still surviving.

I must say, in all modesty, that my interpretation in English of Letters to the Ephesians 4, 3-6, was far superior to those in Spanish, French, and German. What I cannot understand is that after the service when I went outside and waited for my accolades, everyone was teary eyed and moved about the wedding and NO ONE congratulated me on my performance. Weren´t they listening? What is the use, I must tell you.

I wonder how I can finagle a star part in the pilgrim benediction at Santiago. The church is not immune to financial incentives. I wonder if they take Mastercharge in order to let me swing the botufeminco, the largest incense burner in the world. THAT would be a final, wonderful end to the long, long walk.

202 km to go. Today we climbed to the highest part, Cruz de Fero. I did this in wind and snow flurries. Yes, you are reading this years account, not last year when we also had snow flurries. Almost June and I freeze my little a-- off going over the mountain.

I get to share a little room of 4 beds (2 bunks) with 2 Italians and a Croatian tonight. That is some reward, eh? People are getting antsy. I intend to do 5 days of about 40, get in on Saturday night, do all my compestella crap on Sunday and then RELAX. We shall see.

I am off, I have to help my little Emanuele (not Big) with the spaghetti carbonara. Ciao

The Rain in Spain Falls Mainly on the ... Pilgrims

Leon (Return Visit)

Complaints, complaints, complaints. I had a few days off in Leon and missed two days of inclement weather, so I really should keep my mouth shut. It was a soaker yesterday but I got 10k in before it started and only had to do another 20.

It is raining all over Spain. Most of the Iberian penninsula is having flash floods. Or I see pictures of men in bombiero suits rescuing old ladies in knee deep water on the ever present news on the television while having a cafe con leche.

This is a picture of part of the meseta, the high plateau between Burgos and Leon. It is supposed to be the most boring part of the camino. I loved it last year in the bleak of winter. I thought this year it would be parched and dry and that I would be suffering. But it was glorious sea of green--I think I mentioned that earlier. There are tons of wildflowers. Puts everyone in a good mood.

Other things--less and less people are getting up at 4. There are still a lot of frayed nerves and more developing (along nationalistic lines it seems). There are many Germans as usual but more so now because of a best seller in Germany about the camino written by an overweight gay German comedian. Strange?

The alburgues are consistently full. There seem to be enough of them that people aren´t turned away. But the rain yesterday put a lot of people in a small alburgue in Religios about 24km from Leon. This was the overflow room. The wind and rain continued and the room got a little flooded. I think it was a mess. I had a bed upstairs that sagged in the middle but somehow found my sweet spot and had about 7 complete wonderful hours of sleep.

I also got to do some doctoring. A French woman was near me in the kitchen where I was having my soup. I could see her swaying and the condern in her friend's voice. I quickly got up and caught her just as she fainted--right into my arms. I laid her down and started the ABC's (What's A again? Oh yes, airway...) Her left arm was in a tonic contracture for about 10 seconds but she woke up right away. I found out she had been eating normally and wasn't diabetic and figured that it was just a vasovagal bout due to all the heat in that corner of the kitchen. But one of the Germans shouted out, "Is she taking Magnesium?" [They have a mystical passionate love for the electrolyte.] Then he said, "does anyone have any magnesium?" I kid you not--three people whipped out vials of the yellow powder and were mixing it up straight away. Then they looked at me with that "Should we or shouldn't we?" look. I guess I was running the code here and was in charge. I said that it surely wouldn't hurt her and it made them happy.

About 12 more days of walking. I am going to try to sprint into Santiago. I am getting a bit tired of the whole packing, sleeping, eating thing. The walking continues to be spectacular even if the bones and joints keep whispering "que?, que? que?"

THE CAMINO´S DIRTY SECRET

LEON

Here are some of the spectacular pictures of la meseta, the high flat plateau of Castille y Leon. (I have a picture of me in the same spot last year in which I am all bundled up and with snow drifts off to the side.) It is a sea of swirling greens, punctuated by numerous wildflowers and views of mountains in the background. The camino now is flat and straight and longggggggggg. I was developing tendoNEEtis on the right shin and so decided to give myself the weekend in Leon. I took two trains to get here and now have to take two back to Fromista to continue the camino. I gave a thought to just continuing on from Leon and sacking the 100km in between. But since a lot of lesser mortals than me are doing a similar thing ("this is the boring part....") I have to avoid the herd mentality and pretend it is simply the camino spirit. Also that is the part where I was laid up injured last year and I have, oddly enough, some pleasant memories of that part.

Here is a memory of my present journey. I was walking into Boadilla on a hot sunny day and feeling invincible. No real thoughts in my head but anticipating a dip in the pool that the private alburgue reportedly had--all the Germans were even more excited than me. Turns out the pool did not open for 2 more weeks. But this guy came toward me in the last kilometer. I thought I was hallucinating.

Anyway the weekend in Leon, while an expensive venture, was a relief. I have a shower to die for and a big double bed for all the good it is doing for me. It doesn´t squeak, no one else is in the room farting or snoring or rustling through his or her pack. I don´t have to negotiate around backpacks and straps on the way to the bathroom. But it is just an hiatus.

I have pretty much decided I am NOT going to walk to Finistere. I will take a bus there. I cannot imagine walking three additional days. All that will change if there is a humpy little pilgrim who is all excited in Santiago and wants to have some company on the way to coast. Then, of course, I would even pay the extra fare to change my return flight home.

The dirty secret? Well, a lot of the camino is just downright boring. The day has 24 hours. Sleep at most is 8 hours, walking about 6. There are 3 hours devoted to the multiple minute examinations and the anointing of feet as well as showering and other bodily functions. You can use 2 more with shopping and eating. That leaves about 4 to 5 hours with not a whole heck of much to do. One can nap. There is the occasional beer or bottle of wine much appreciated. Then there is the behind-the-scenes taunting and deriding of fellow pilgrims that does consume an inordinate amount of time but leaves you feeling less than holy or properly spirited. Everyone is so tired that conversation tends to be limited to where one is doing to walk the next day. The other big topic is which ethnic or national group has ticked you off the most recently.

Even when walking, one is beset by ennui of a great order. One can only enthuse about the scenery for so long--even when it is fabulous, like it has been of late, it doesn't change much when you go at a 3 mile an hour pace. And one quickly realizes that greater minds than his or hers have grappled with the problems of world peace and poverty without a whole lot to show for it. That leaves one probing important questions, like whether or not two tone dress shoes are really ever appropriate for a business meeting or why Wendy Hiller is not universally recognized as the best film actress of all time.

Then there is song. I don´t try to get out my sheaf of songs very often. I cannot afford to trip over a big stone while screeching like one of the ever present storks. I was going to ammend that practice when I found out my little German buddy was interested in singing en route. He was musing about unleashing some of the army marching songs he learned while doing his service. I thought it would be nice to learn those and then divert him from German punk rock to the glories of 80s disco. But we got separated none too soon.

DOCTOR LONG JOHN

I am sure you are all familiar with the Bette Midler concert classic DOCTOR LONG JOHN. It was brought to my mind this morning. Not when I was searching for a song to sing on the camino.

No I am having a rest day in Burgos. I was out late last night (11PM, unheard of up to now. The alburgues close at 10 not so my hotel). I had had some peanuts earlier in a bar. I felt a piece stuck in my teeth. Of course it turned out to be a filling not something as innocuous as a nut.

I wasn´t going to worry about it but I ran into a Tasmanian pilgrim acquaintance who had some tooth pain and had extensive very up to date dental work done for free here last week. She did pay 100 euros for a taxi to the big town. I was not so taken by the offer of free pilgrim dental care (I had already been burned by the supposedly cheap French cell phone tales.) But it got me to thinking that I had better get this taken care of before I ended up in pain in a small village in the middle of nowhere. So off I went today to the dentist.

Alas I did not get Dr. Long John ( or free care, though the bill was less than the pair of shorts will cost that I am looking for). I got a very sweet dental technician who could not have been older than 24 who shot my jaw full of novocaine (unlike Better who "didn't need no Novocaine."). But like the Divine Miss M I did not feel ANY pain even with all the drilling. And I no longer have an annoying hole in my tooth. But I can´t drink anything until the anesthetic wears off. Or I will look like Kramer in one of the old Seinfield where he was taken for a "special" person after similar work.

Here is another photo of me at the free pilgrim wine fountain at Irache a few days back. (My belly is actually quite decreased--the waist and chest straps of the backpack just push up what is there, drat.) It has a webcam. Had I known that I would have alerted you so you could have watched me and my Belgian buddy Jean Francoise imbibing in the middle of a hot day.

He is a young pilgrim who sports a wild beard and unkempt hair. I originally met him in France then lost him. I walked with him for a day here in Spain when we met again. I had nicknamed him St Jerome in the Desert when I first met him in France. Then I realized if anyone looked like St. Jerome it was me.

So I had my hair done a few weeks back in a small village in France. THAT was a trip. I perused the hair model books and was determined that was my chance to end up looking like a Dolce & Gabbina Eurotrash model--part Olympic skier, part drug addict. [Surely, if anyone could work a miracle, it would be a French stylist, eh? I didn't know which saint to pray to. And my track record already with the saints was not so good.] My French only speaking hairdresser had more in mind a mid-80s Montgomery Ward slacks model. I kept pointing to one or another of the former and she to the latter. Both of us were shaking our heads. Then when on a lark, I pointed to a long curly haired blonde surfer type with pecs to die for, she took the book out of hands, swung my chair around and gave me the best cut I have ever had in my life. I may have to build up my frequent flier miles so I can visit her on a regular basis. She could not understand my instructions for my beard and so just gave me the clippers and I now sport this billy goat chin chinny thing that has gotten quite luxurious.

Well, off to the cathedral again.

THE CAMINO I KNOW AND LOVE

Ah, the camino into Burgos. It just doesn´t get any better than this. I walked across a low mountain range yesterday--the one I couldn´t cross last year because of the snow. There had been a really stiff wind the day before and a forecast of rain and I was expecting the worst. But the lighter wind did not impede progress, the sun was out, and it was glorious. The hills were all alive with a gorgeous violet bush set against a green background and the blue sky with billowy white clouds. And few pilgrims when I crossed so I had the place almost to myself it seemed. It just screamed for the soundtrack to SOUND OF MUSIC. Alas, I did not get past Do a deer....

And the alburgue on the other side was fabulous even though I got put in a room with a bunch of middle aged Portugese women, one of who snored like a banshee. I wanted to be in the young folks room!!! At least I did not get the fart room. We were served paella for dinner. Rather a nice change from the fried chop I had last year most of the time.

The way into Burgos was like I expected. I took a different route this year, thinking it could not be as bad as following the N 110 like last year. Boy was I wrong, it was worse as seen above. But I got to town and into a HOTEL. I am treating myself to 2 nights in moderate luxury in the center of town. Can even take a bath if I want.

Just so you don´t get think all of this camino stuff is all just crazy fun, here is how we have to do our laundry at times. That is probably the most arduous chore. There seems to be more and more automatic washers on the camino. But it doesn´t seem so practical for a shirt, underwear and a pair of socks. And most get pretty used to having more than a bit of piquant smell around them. Otherwise you wouldn´t last too long. And a lot of the engineered fabrics don´t seem to hold odor a lot. Thank the saints of the camino for that (particularly, St. Ignacius de Odorant).

Drying the washed items is, of course, even more problematic. Things dry pretty fat in the Spanish sun. But when we had the long run of overcast and humid days, everyone was suffering. Here is a photo of the yard at the alburgue outside of Pamplona on the first sunny day. This is not even all of the laundry hanging out. It was wonderful--I even got an hour of sun bathing.

On to the Mazeta (? spelling) the Spanish high plateau--hot and dry. And not a little boring.

THE HORDES ATTACK

Najera, Spain

No USB port for downloading pictures on this machine. So just wait because I have some wonderful ones.

The way continues to be absolutely wonderful, the scenery incredible, the flora and fauna in springtime abundance, and the weather--though hot--really grand. The only problem is the number of pilgrims. The alburgues are full every night and there is a grand rush when they open and another one in the morning to get out on the road and to the next place, damn the women and children.

People are taking to getting up earlier and earlier. AND IT CAN´T BE BECAUSE OF THE HEAT--if I can take it easily all those noisy people with headlights who get up at 4 AM can take it too. Than they are the ones who want to sleep in the afternoon when the NORMAL people are getting in, taking showers and socializing. And they want the lights out before 9. Come on!!!

Been getting to see a few church interiors I missed last year. Otherwise it seems like the same camino except very green, very warm, and very crowded. I must say though that the same camaraderie I found last year is sorely missing this year. Too many really boring people. And too many groups. A lot of Germans. They are nice. Actually I prefer to walk by myself especially in the morning and than want to kibbutz and chat later.

Though of course, it could be, that I am the boring one. Last year no one could get away from me. No they have other people to hang out with. And a lot of foreign tongues.

I did find Anne Marie again. She went back and forth and now is charging on with me. Everyone thinks we are a couple, which we are, but not in that context.

More pictures later.

Is the Glass Half Full or Half Empty?

Pamplona, Spain

Well, I am over half way it seems. I have done 770 km and have about 730 yet to go. That is a little less than 500 miles each way. (Though the French calculate it at 1689 km or about 1040 miles--gotta love the French.) And we have something unusual today. I think they call it sun but it has been so long since I have seen it the name might have been changed.

It has been overcast for the past 8 or 9 days with 2 days of steady rain all day in that time, not torrential, and lots of small showers. It is the humdity and the mud that is causing all the trouble. I have that never-drying musty smell in everything. Oh well.

I went over the Pyrennes the other day. Incredible views. Sometimes I could see at least 20 feet!!!! Yes it was foggy as hell all the way. We were worried aabout getting up the mountain. It was 12 miles straight uphill. The first third about 60 degrees, the next about 40, and the last about 20. Then a steep tortuous 4 mile downhill.

The alburge on top was something. A huge vaulted lovely stone room with 65 bunk beds for 130 people in 3 rows. The men on one side, the women on the other with married couples in between. Older on bottom, younger on top. I took a top bunk of course.

It was like something out of a nightmare. I dubbed it the Inferno at first. I raced to the shower (one of 2 for the men) and was the first one in. THAT HAS BEEN MY GREATEST ACCOMPLISHMENT TO DATE. I then went out and when I got back I saw that the spirits of the camino had conspired to put a bunch of young Italian men in my section. Inferno turns to Paradisio rather quickly. They all spend the evening in their underwear applying body cream all over and examining their feet and speaking in that liquid lovely Mediterranean lilt. Ah.

Last night was another horror but I slept better. The alburgue was small and filthy. It was completely full with people not in the best mood. No stores or restaurants were open. The mayor runs the place and his wife sell provisions from the office--not cheaply. I had some hard boiled eggs and some lentils. Not that bad but I am thinking that the camino in February and March is not necessarily a bad thing.

Pamplona, Spain

WHERE IS EDITH PIAF WHEN YOU NEED HER?

Oh, my lord, there is already karaoke of sorts on the chemin (soon to be referred to as Camino as I am soon to be in Spain). Spent last night in French Basque country at a rural gite (soon to be called albergue, or hostel) that is noted for their singing soirees with the pilgrims. And how do they get this dour group going? Well they ply them with lots of homemade Basque wine. Extremely effective tactic.

I stayed fairly sober and so did not do my much anticipated solo of I WILL SURVIVE but do wish I had gotten out the words of OVER THE RAINBOW, beings that Judy (as in Dorothy) is such the Saint of the Camino/Chemin. And since the rain quotient has been going up lately I am looking for a rainbow. Or mud boots. One day of pretty much constant rain though not torrential. Otherwise we have had aobut 6 or more days of cloudy humid weather. It has rained at night most of those nights so there is a lot of mud and some big puddles to navigate through. I expected that I would have this earlier in the trip. But oh well. It has pretty much blocked the tremendous views of the Pyrennes which is kinda sad.

Here I am at the Port Saint Jacques in St. Jean Pied de Port this morning (where I started last year). I am finished almost all of the French portion except for going over the pass in the Pyrennes into Spain. Weather lousy and may have to put off hiking until Sunday. But if it is halfway clear I go tomorrow. I already had some fantastic views of the mountains of the central Pyrennes which are still VERY snow covered. Soon the warm weather stuff can be safely discarded....I hope.

The shin seems to be much better. Swelling down significantly. I have been limiting myself to an escargot pace around 12 miles a day for 6 days now. But I feel like I can now do some more serious mileage. Next post in about 3 days from Pamplona!!!!