Wild Goose Chase in Léon

Two rainy rest days have me eager to start walking again. We walked into Léon on Saturday, the 28th, and found ourselves in a stressful wild goose-chase through the bustling city to find an albergue. We stopped at a bar in a town 7k before Léon and were told by other pilgrims as well as the bartender that every albergue and hotel in Léon were booked full because it was a festival weekend, but the municipal albergue had a few beds left. We took off as fast as we could- speed walking over the desert. It felt like a competition with the other pilgrims on the road; a race for a bed. Lucky, the average age of other pilgrims worked in our favor to give us a speed advantage. Once in the city, we were scrambling around trying to find the municipal albergue with no guarantee that the beds were even still available. We walked up and down the busy streets that were filled with people in chicken and unicorn costumes, groups chanting, and plazas that looked like they were the scene of a massive food fight. It took nearly an hour before we stumbled upon a monastery that doubled as a pilgrim albergue-  and they had beds! Once checked in and led to the dormitories, we were surprised to see that they had rows and rows of empty beds. We had no reason to rush into the city. Other pilgrims were still checking in hours after us with no problem.
 Once settled, we were able to enjoy the Saturday night liveliness Léon had to offer, which was due to Léon being awarded the food capital of Spain. Ironically, because of traveling with a tight college student budget, we ate overpriced frozen pizza for dinner.
The next day we had our first full rest day since Burgos. It poured rain all day, and all the food and tourist attractions were way over our budget, so we ended up cafe-hopping all day; writing postcards, answering emails, and taking care of other housekeeping needs. That evening we hopped on a bus that would take us up north- to the beach!

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.

Philosophy on the Camino

It feels like summertime here in Burgos. Locals are strolling through the plaza licking ice cream under the 70 degree sunshine. Dalmatians and Greyhounds are chasing each other along the riverbank with cheerful kids in their trail.

I walked into Burgos on the 17th which was a deceiving walk. We set out in the morning just on the other side of the hill from Burgos, so by a few kilometers in we topped the mountain and could see the city even though it would still be another 20 k until we reached the door of our hostel. I was walking with Aiden Taylor that morning and we ran into two English men on our way up the hill that we had started chatting with the night before. Paul and Grey are in their late sixties, tackling the Camino together for two weeks at a time every year. They walk keeping the mood light, joking with each other and not taking anything too seriously. I mentioned my independent project for class being on meditation and they were excited to tell me that they both practice it. On our walk down they let me prod for meditation conversation which turned into philosophy and questions like “What is the point of life?” and “What do you believe happens after you die?” Grey reasoned with me saying that if I didn’t want to know things like what day I would die or how my whole life would play out, why would I want to know what happens after we die or what the point of living is? He talked about how there is wisdom in living with uncertainty; the past and the future are irrelevant to enjoying the present moment and meditation helps us focus on this more easily. I barely noticed the landscape change as I asked them the same questions that I had asked Christians and Catholics in the previous days. Again, what a spectacular classroom this camino is. There is plenty of wisdom at our fingertips if we know how to look for it.

The Little Details

I keep being reminded that it’s about the journey; not the destination. It’s really not about getting to Santiago, but it’s about all the little details in these 10 weeks that make me squeal and grin and pout and everything else that comes with this experience. Yesterday was a good reminder of this. It was a relatively easy day; 20 k, flat, and sunny. Harry, Maddie, Aiden and I changed up the pace. We took 11 hours to get from town A to town B today, when usually our walks take 5 or 6 hours. We strolled through the smooth green hills talking about everything besides the miles ahead of us. We sang and we stopped to appreciate the fields of yellow flowers flowing alongside us. At one of our many ‘wow this is so beautiful’ pauses we decided to stay a while because…why not? We climbed up a side hill, plopped our packs down and got sucked into the landscape of snow capped peaks towering over golden seas, pillowy clouds shape shifting along the horizon and soft chocolate melting in our fingers. This is why I walk. I soaked up the freedom and skipped and twirled and frolicked up and down the hill for almost an hour until I was too sweaty and tired to do another twirl. This made me so much more tired and sore than walking ever does (heavy price to pay for having fun, I know). On our homestretch into town I got to pick Aiden’s brain on religion and Christianity which made me have interest in reading parts of the bible for the first time in my life. Faith is strongly alive in so many people on this camino, which I admire so much. The conversations I have engaged in in the last few days have been so enriching and stimulating:  relativity, good vs. bad, dimensions, conspiracy theories, and music. Walking provides the best classroom I could ask for.

How to Make Your Body Hate You (And Then Love You Again)

I’ve been on trail for 10 days now and have walked 200 something kilometers. The adjustment period of blisters, sore muscles, and nervousness is coming to an end and I can feel my body comfortably falling back into the thru-hiking routine. My feet are a little less sore at the end of each day, my stomach becomes a deeper pit every meal, and I’ve stopped concerning myself with being smelly. Ahhh the joys of simple, nomadic livin’.

From Roncevalles we had the bright idea of walking 44 k (28 miles) to the city of Pamplona so that we could spend more time there. This wouldn’t have been a problem if we had been walking for a couple weeks already, but trying to do this week 1 caught up to [most of] our bodies.  We walked from 7:30 am to 7:30 pm and by the time  we spotted the promise land of Pamplona, all of 5 of us were limping and groaning on empty stomachs while squinting through the wind and rain that had decided to accompany us, desperately searching for a hostel. We were taken in by a friendly hospitalero (hostel owner) named Cesar who told us we were crazy for walking so far and raved to us about how nice the showers were— which was no lie. We were greeted by more classmates who were also in Pamplona, and got to catch up on each others Camino’s so far.

So of course being the wise young people that we are, we rallied our broken bodies to go out on the town. Pamplona was a lively city. Loud music coming out of every  bar and restaurant, vendors walking around trying to sell us bracelets in the best english that they could, streets bustling with Friday night cheer, and clusters of limping pilgrims as the cherry on top.

The time came to strap on our packs and boots once again, and thus Gimp Squad was born: those of us who’s bodies just weren’t totally ready for that 44k. Our steady pace was stolen and 3 of us were left inching along with unique pains and new walking styles which were too funny not to laugh at— because yes, we were still going to walk all day like this. The next day as we are gingerly stumbling down a hill we hear “Yo, is this gimp squad?” from behind us coming from a girl we would come to know as Katie who was hobbling along just like us. Katie was a girl doing the Camino by herself, coming from Portland, Oregon. Small, small world. The 4 of us laughed our way through the pouring rain all day which made for a simultaneously miserable and wonderful day. Thanks Gimp Squad.

We rejoined the our classmates at the hostel and enjoyed a big pasta dinner with other pilgrims from all corners of the earth. How special it is that so many people from such different backgrounds can be brought together by such a simple act as walking.

After a couple slow days, my body feels recovered and the miles came easy today. The rain and wind have still not let up, and there’s no signs that it will anyday soon. I guess this is the trade off for all of our beautifully sunny days walking in France. Give and take. Misery and Wonder. Simplifying life helps to bring out this balance in everything. So on it goes!

 

Farm Animals Everywhere

We made it over the Pyrenees mountains today! Day 5 of walking delivered the goods: grazing wild horses, delicate wildflowers, patches of glistening snow & expansive views.

I’ve been walking in a group with Anne, Aidan, Harry, and Caroline since Anne and I started our walk April 1st from Oloron-sainte-marie, France. The first day dished us a ridiculous amount of mud; got rid of that new shoe look in no time! We ended up in a charming, tiny town (2 restaurants, 15 houses, and a church kind of tiny) for Easter evening. Since the town didn’t have a grocery store I loaded up with a 1€ baguette from a baguette vending machine…I love you France.

The next day we strolled through miles of rolling farmland. Waving to happy, healthy cows helped me justify giving up veganism for this walk. We passed rams, sheep, donkeys, horses, and chickens. This made for a wonderful aroma, as you could imagine. These sights and smells accompanied us on our walk for the next couple days.

Tuesday we had a long day walking hill after hill after hill under an intense sun. We also hadn’t seen Anne since the morning & other pilgrims on the trail had no word of her. We were limping every step the last hill, and going a little crazy. Moral was running low, but when we got into town we were welcomed into the guest house on a picturesque farm- equipped with 1 safe Anne  and 3 farm dogs wiggling for affection  and ogling our dinner. As much as I wanted to love them up, their layer of cow-poop smell was enough to keep me away. It was still the best reward  after a long day walking.

 

 

 

 

 

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

  1. 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!