Food – Mind – Fern's Journal

We Found Jesus in the Forest

Our walk today brought us by a hidden church nestled in the bright green Galician forests. I thought the church seemed out of place when I first saw it after rounding the corner; the trail lined with dense trees- trunks blanketed in vines and fiddlehead ferns uncurling for summer. But after walking around the aged building it became apparent to me that the church was as familiar with this forest as any of the trees in it. The walls housed old lichen families and insect communities. The cross with Mary and Jesus was covered in nearly enough moss to blend in with its surroundings. It was a sacred place, no doubt: honoring both human-bodied holiness and earth-bodied holiness alike.

The previous evening, as us 5 pilgrims were strolling through town with hungry bellies, we went into a modern-looking burger place. We asked in broken spanish what time they opened, and the owner warmly replied that it was his day off and he was just in to prepare food for the next day. He started proudly talking about his food, and without a hesitation he offered to open his restaurant just for the 5 of us. We all returned at 7 and walked into the place which was filled with the sounds of purple Purple Rain. We sat in a row at the bar and he smiled at us saying, “but first, we sing”. We all chimed in for the chorus before ordering delicious burgers. He told us that he had to quit his other job due to a stroke, and had been slowly remembering how to speak english and spanish and use his body. He continued chatting us up throughout dinner and cracking a smile when we would sing along to his 80s rock and roll playlist. After dinner he insisted on shots for us on the house and a picture before saying goodbye only until our return the next morning for breakfast. His welcoming, caring spirit is exactly the type of thing that makes the camino what it is.

I’m Still In Awe of You, Spain

Suddenly the destination seems to be comprehendible for the first time. I am 150 kilometers from Santiago; 9 days of walking left. I’m sitting in the plaza of Mondoñedo, under yet another mind boggling cathedral. Intricate carvings inviting me in through the ancient doorways and some chipped corners and splintered wood showing the time that the building has withstood. Although I’ve been in europe for seven weeks it still seems so surreal to me to even be here. I still get taken aback by the old Spanish ladies smiling from their well-loved gardens, more than willing to point us pilgrims in the right direction. I still seem to be surprised to walk into a market and see 2€ wine.

I said ‘see ya later’ to the ocean two days ago, by frolicking along a sandy beach and then running into the powerful waves for another big ocean-hug, despite the drizzly clouds above me. The trail is making its way inland towards Santiago now and we have been tromping through more luscious rolling hills.

Am I Home?

It’s funny how the sound of powerful waves crashing against rocks is both the most intimidating and comforting sound known to me. Visiting the ocean is always so humbling for me; and now, traveling alone along the coast of a foreign country is no different. Being at the ocean has made me feel strangely at home, 5,000 miles away from home. Beach-combing for little heart rocks brings my mom right next to me, reading Siddhartha is no different than an average summer evening having a conversation with my dad by the river, and skipping through the glittery waves transports me to being 7 years-old skipping along the Washington coast. It’s strange to feel so at home here. But I’ve come to realize that this little blue backpack I carry everywhere has become as much of a home to me as the little white house in Leavenworth that I grew up in for 16 years is. Home sweet home.

I’m met with solitude once again, but for the first time on this camino. After a month of walking with classmates I was itching for some time on my own. Yesterday was my second day on my own. I left the city of Aviles and got lost in the familiar rhythm of walking until a few miles in when I stopped for coffee. I decided to check on the map where I was and learned that I was far from the Camino. Luckily, thanks to living in the age of technology, I was able to Google maps the little beach town I wanted to sleep in and I followed that the rest of the afternoon. As I was walking along the road, I took a detour down a gravel road for a pee break. A little bit down this road I saw another little trail leading to a small shack and I followed my curiosity down the trail. To my surprise I stumbled upon two heartbroken and neglected dogs. Their toenails were long and curled over, the ground was covered in poop and the one water bowl inside was mucky and filled with hair. I could see infected sores on one’s belly and so much sadness in their eyes. I broke down at the sight of them and started crying right in front of their cage. I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do which was almost the worst part. I spent the next few miles trying to understand why I have been so lucky in this life, but others have been dealt so much pain. I never came to a conclusion.

Can We Sleep Here?

Our bus ride up North was a beautiful 2 hours through foggy mountains and lush valleys.

After getting to the city of Gijón we once again found ourselves walking for nearly an hour through city streets to find our airbnb. We were welcomed in by a young mother and shy little girl, maybe 4 years-old, to a guest bedroom. The bedroom has dressers full of clothes and pictures of family members on the vanity. The bathroom and kitchen available to us are shared with the family. There are dolls and dog hair and other signs of every-day life scattered about. The people are friendly enough, but seem to not want more conversation than necessary. It almost feels like I am staying with a relative I never met.

We enjoyed seeing being at the ocean today, getting out between spurts of rain. We will stay at the same airbnb tonight. Between the magnificent bus ride yesterday and gorgeous views today, I have become so fond of the northern coast that I am deciding to continue my camino on the Norte route instead of the Francès tomorrow. I’m hoping for many foggy mountains and lush valleys to come!

Sunshine Makes Us Lazy

I’ve been taking it easy out of Burgos. Our walks the last few days have been miles and miles of the flat plains on the plateau of central Spain, known as the Meseta. There is very little shade, and we walk along dirt roads with crackled mud and geckos darting about. The usually cloudless horizon is met by endless grass fields. The repetitive scenery makes hard to feel like I am making any progress at all.

This morning we procrastinated the inevitable and didn’t leave town until 11. We only made it 3k before the shade and beer at a roadside albergue won us over for our first break. While savoring the shade a little black pup peeked out from the corner of the building and excitedly bounded over to us after we started cooing at her. I have been missing my own four-legged best friend the last couple days and I think this pup could pick up on that. She returned the belly scratches with loving licks and happily chased the stick I was throwing up and down the driveway. Nothing flips around moral like a good dose of pup. We continued on, passing more fields and hiding from the same sun until lunchtime when we stopped at an albergue that advertised “a paradise with no wifi”. The place was complete with hammocks, a slack line, free roaming donkeys, a pond and ducks, art covering every wall, and the tunes of Bob Marley coming from the bar. The host grinned and danced his way around the property, making conversation with the handful of pilgrims there and loving up the donkeys who were obviously fond of him as well. After eating lunch, taking a yoga break, and sipping beer in the hammocks, we realized that a few hours had snuck away from us. Off we went in the late afternoon heat. We took an alternate route that went along a small river so that we could avoid walking along the road. It was a little longer but completely worth it; we couldn’t resist the cool water. I was too excited running in that I slipped on the muddy, grassy riverbank and end up on my butt in the river. I swam up the stream and floated the current back down over and over while Harry, not fortunate enough to fall in, inched his way into the water. After our refreshing dip it was 5 pm and we still had 10k to go until the town we were aiming for. 10 hot, dry, roadside kilometers. We finally got into town around 7 and devoured bacon, egg, and beef hamburgers that felt as big as my face. A day that began with low moral turned out to be filled with smiles, and this unpredictability seems to be everywhere on the Camino.

Italy- The Best Classroom for Art History Majors

Today is my last day in Italy before I travel to Toulouse, France. I have enjoyed 4 sunny days exploring Roman ruins, admiring detailed Italian alley ways, and sampling an endless spectrum of cheeses.

My first stop here was a water taxi to Venice; one of the more well-known Italian cities which was apparent due to the flocks of travelers and the whirlwind of different languages floating through the streets. Every building I walked by in this aged city had intricate detail incomparable to our cities in the US— delicate railings around balconies lined with petunias and daffodils over looking canals with gondolas decorated in velvet, gold fringes, and swirly carvings. Most buildings reached three or four stories high, each one with worn edges, faded paint, or other signs of hundreds of years of life. I can’t help but imagine how wonderful it must be to live in a city with only canals for transportation; no dangerous highways or loud engines.

The next day I went to Lake Garda— a lake so expansive it felt like I was looking at the ocean. This lake is home to Roman ruins built in 100 BCE…how does one even comprehend a date like that? I was dumbfounded as we walked by pillars that had been standing for centuries, thinking about how our modern architecture barely lasts 100 years.

I savored my time spent with cousins and my aunt and uncle who reside in a town near Venice. They helped me order all of the best pastas and pizzas, which exceeded my expectations. The next couple days they helped continue my tour of their beautiful country by bringing me to a handful of the best historic sights: a Roman amphitheater that has been used since 30 AD and is still hosting faces like Justin Bieber, the “Casa di Giulietta”, or Juliet’s House from William Shakespears famous writing. The street around her house was overflowing with love notes and locks from love birds that had come to visit.

Today I was able to go to the theater in the town of Vicenza where the original Shakespeare plays were performed. The theater displayed impressive architecture that almost overwhelmed my eyes; the optical illusion of the background looking like a mile long city street although it was only 3 feet long and statues of gods and emperors lining the room. This town is also hosting a Van Gogh exhibit where I saw 100 original Van Gogh pieces.

The history and art in every corner of these Italian cities has felt so surreal. I feel like I have been living in a perfect painting these last few days. Thank you Italy for giving me a greater appreciation for the incredibly talented people that walked this earth before me!

Meatloaf for Breakfast & Medieval Castles

I’m sitting in the Munich airport tiredly waiting to board my flight to Italy after wrapping up a wild 3 days in Germany. I haven’t eaten a single vegetable since I landed here on Thursday because Germans literally don’t see vegetables as part of the food pyramid. Instead, my hosts have excitedly replaced that portion of my diet with authentic german beer. Being vegetarian for 2 years, and vegan for a few months before this trip made it hard for me to cheerfully nom on meatloaf for breakfast, sausage for lunch, and schnitzel for dinner….3 days in a row (although the wonderful array of sweet, sour, and spicy mustards made it bearable). I stayed with 2 german brothers that I met & hiked with for a couple weeks on the Pacific Crest Trail last summer. They were so excited to show me this beautiful country that they are so proud to call home. Our first stop after the airport was for beer (surprise!) which we shared over many laughs about our time shared in the mountains last summer. After allowing my mind to catch up to my body here in Germany with a 14 hour slumber, I was ready to dive in. We took a train from their small town of Vilsheim into Munich. We took part in the tourist activities and climbed a tower for a view of the city, visited the Olympic Games site of 1972, and even found the ‘devils footprint’ in the main church. There was much less english throughout the city than I expected, so I solely relied on my friends to navigate the metro & translate all the plaques and signs for me (thank goodness I had them!) That night I got to see how 20-somethings in Germany enjoy their Friday nights, and Germans definitely know how to have fun! All the young people speak pretty good english, because it is required for their school. I was very thankful for this because it allowed me to have fluid conversations with all these special people, most of whom were exited to talk about the US (and make fun of our healthcare). Saturday brought sunshine… and more meatloaf for breakfast. We spent the day in a town called Landshut which was built in 1200 and the main streets all have the original buildings. This town is also home to the tallest brick building in the world! It is a church that was built in 1300 and the story is that they wanted to build it so high so that they could spit in the soup of the dukes who lived in the castle up on the hill. I also got to visit this castle which was breathtaking. It still had the torture chamber, the well, and a magnificent view over the town. It was so surreal to be standing on the same brick that someone would have stood on almost 1,000 years ago- how different their view would have been! Although I am excited to give the sausages a rest, I have fallen in love with german architecture and their general happy-go-lucky spirit through life. Thank you Germany for reminding me that I can live everyday as a party!