Moving Hospitalera posts

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FISTERRE ROUTE - Day 3

I had planned on walking for at least 4 days to Finisterre but with the albergue at Corcubion closed I decided that I would just walk all the way to Finisterre today.

Yesterday had been a long walk - over 32km - and today would also be a long walk if I walked all the way to Carbo Finisterre, the lighthouse at the énd of the world´. - about 36km by the time I walked back down the hill from the lighthouse.

The first pilgrim got up at 5h30 and my cell phone alarm went off at 6am. Conny was getting up so we packed and walked together to one of the bars for a cup of chocolate - she a cafe on leche.

"Are you going to walk to Finisterre or Muxia?" I asked.

"I don´t know" she said. "I´ll see when I get there!"

We walked together until we came across another open cafe bar just before Hospital where the routes to Muxia and Hospital split. Conny decided to stop for a coffee, I decided to walk on, so we said goodbye and promised to email each other. As I passed the cafe bar I saw Pete, the pilgrim from Holland I'd walked with the day before. I walked ahead for quite a while and then he caught up and we walked together for a while. It started to rain so I put on my raincoat.

The route leads you onto a high platteau with wonderful views on both sides. The wind was quite strong and it was the coldest I´d felt since France. I caught up to Pete and we walked together into Cee and Corcubion at about 11am.

"I´m going to stop for a drink" I said.

"Me too" he said. But, it is fiesta in Corcubion and we walked for ages before asking someone if there was a cafe bar open anywhere.

"Only one" said a local, "it is fiesta so everything is closed".

He directed us to the only open cafe bar in Corcubion and we had a hot chocolate and a Madelena before continuing. The path took us up a rocky little trail between high, ancient stone walls. Then we were high above Corcubion and after a km we came across the albergue with all the fiesta paraphanalia set up outside. We walked on in the rain. I stopped to put my raincoat again and and Pete carried on going so I walked alone for a while but caught up to a pilgrim from Switzerland (another Peter) and he and I walked together down to the beach and along a long paved promenade that strecthes for a few kms all the way to Finisterre. When I arrived at the albergue I saw Pete and he told me that it only opened at 4pm so I put my backpack in line on the pavement and joined Pete and some other pilgrims at a bar across the road. We ordered a large plate of chips with ketchup and Mayonaise and sat eating hot chips and drinking Coke for an hour.
The albergue opened at 4pm and it was Ana and Begona who were the hospitaleras. I was shown up to the dormitory, had a shower and washed my undies.

"Hello Sylvia" I heard. It was Bernice, a RSA pilgrim from Johannesburg who walked the camino from St Jean to Santiago and had got the bus to Finisterre today. We made arrangements to see each other later and I left to walk up to the lighthouse with an Australian girl I´d met a few days ago. On the way down I bumped into Bernice again and we are hoping to meet up again tomorrow for breakfast.
I spoke to Begona about tomorrow and she said I must leave my backpack in the room and come back at 4pm. Then, on Wednesday I can go to Corcubion and start at the albergue.
When I cleared my didgi-walker this afternoon, it read 36.5kms. I don´t really feel as though I´ve walked that distance - about 68km in two days. I´m almost tempted to walk to Muxia tomorrow with a smaller backpack, but I´ll wait and see how I feel in the morning - and what the weather does.
Finisterre is a lovely little fishing village and I´m going to stop and watch the gulls fighting over fish on the beach before I go to bed!

FINISTERRA ROUTE - Day 2

Leaving Negreira

When I left the hotel rain was threatening but fortunately I didn´t need my raincoat for the first hour. From Negreia you pass through many forests, open land and small hamlets that seemed to tumble into each other.

At one time I was walking along a little lane when a heard of cows started coming down towards me. I went back to where there was a small cross roads. The cows continued to come down, dozens of them. I started to take a video of them and gave a running commentary. "OK" I said to the lead cow "You just go on your way, I don´t want you to come any further in my direction." She stopped and looked at me with her head down so I moved over to the other side of the lane. I was standing in her way and as soon as I moved she started walking up the lane with all the other cows following. I started walking up the lane and another flipping herd started coming down. I was too far up to go back down again so I stood aside, pressed against a stone wall with fat cows ambling past me, turning their heads to give a beady eyed stare at this stranger standing on their lane. There was a woman herding them down the lane and she shouted at them as they passed me. For the next few hundred metres I was stepping around cow dung patties all hot and steamy!

At Vilaserio I pass the vacant schoolhouse where pilgrims can sleep the night and have a shower - no electricity.
I passed 2 pilgrims along the route, then a lone female, then a couple. I had planned on stopping at Santa Marina (19.5km) but I got there at 12 o´clock and the place that reportedly had rooms was right on the highway with a busy bar next door. I didn´t know what I would have done with myself from mid-day to 8pm so I just carried on walking.

Peter, a pilgrim from Holland caught up to me and started chatting about South Africa, the Dutch history, Afrikaans etc so we walked together to Oliveiroa about 12.5km further on. We got there at about 2pm. A sign on the door said that the hospitalero would only arrive at 4pm so please choose a bed and make yourself comfortable. It is a good albergue, the sitting area and registration room is a building on the left side of the path. There is also a stable with beds upstairs and a few mattresses downstairs. Across the narrow, stone path is a stone building with a dormitory and bathroom downstairs and upstairs. Next to that is a small stone building with beds for 4 people and next to that is a stone Horrero that is lit up at night.
While I was doing my washing I met Conny, a woman from Holland (there were about 6 Hollanders staying there) and we just hit it off right away.

"Are you English?" she asked. "No, South African" I said "but I speak English.

"So what do you do in South Africa then? Are you in business?"

"No" I said "I´m just a housewife, mother, grandmother."

"How boring" she said. I just burst out laughing! "And you?" I asked her. "You are a rocket scientist?" She burst out laughing. We went to one of the bars - in another stone building right next to the Horrero, and had lunch and a drink. At 4pm the hospitalero arrived and when it was my turn to register I told him that I was a volunteer hospitalera for Corcubion and could he tell me when it would reopen. 1 Julio - he told me. There was a fiesta in the town and the stalls, bandstand etc had all been set up right outside the building that housed the albergue. I decided that I would walk to Muxia - about 28kms away - and walk to Finsiterre the day after.
At about 6pm a woman arrived in a car and a woman asked for Sylvia. This was Begona from Finisterre. "If you walk to Finisterre tomorrow you can stay for 2 days" she said. So, I changed my mind and decided to walk to Finisterre and not to Muxia after all.
It had been a long day so I went to bed at about 8:30pm. There was one snorer in the room who had the most incredible range or snorts, rumbles, chain-saw growls. I finally fell asleep and only heard him intermitantly.

Friday in Santiago

Marion
Everyday we started off with the sound of an alarm clock to wak us up, and then it was a rush around to get ready to start our day of walking, so as we had a free day we did not need to get up early so we never set the alarm. It felt so strange to wake up without hearing the alarn and no need to rush out of bed to get ready. I found it difficult to lie in bed so got up anyway. Most of the day we spent looking at shops and I bought a few souvenirs to take home. The highlight of the day for me was going to the pilgrim service at the cathedral. The cathedral was packed with mostly pilgrims and quite a lot of tourists. The botefumeira was hanging down so Syl said that they must be going to swing it - that sent a tremble through me as when we were here in Santiago 2 years ago I was so looking forward to seeing the botefumeira being swung and they did not swing it. I found the whole service very emotional especially the nun singing and the atmosphere in the cathedral, it was electrifying.

Sil

We went to bed quite early and watched Bafana-bafana play Brazil on television. Neither of us could stay awake but I got up to switch the TV off at 1.5 mins to go and saw that Brazil had scored. It was raining this morning and we kept ducking into the arcades to escape the drizzle.
We went to the morning market and Marion bought souvenirs and a t-shirt. How Val would have loved this market with its fish section, meat section, fresh fruits and vegetables. She would also have loved the restaurant windows in Santiago with their live lobsters, octopus and other regional food displays. Next time Val!
We went for coffee, chocolate and churros at a little coffee shop nearby. Then we went to the cathedral and found seats in the cross section. It was packed with pilgrims sitting on the floor on the sides. The nun sang, the priests trooped in and the mass began. The Botafumeiro was hanging from the vault but nobody was sure that it would be swung at mass so there was an air of expectation. I looked around me at the man faces there, mostly pilgrims. Some were dozing - many can´t understand the Spanish and the elderly priest mumbled like the Godfather so we couldn´t even make out the names of the countries that pilgrims had arrived from the day before. I thought of the medieval pilgrims and stories of running battles in the cathedral between pilgrims from different nations. On some occaisons the battles were so great that the cathedral had to be scrubbed clean of the bloodshed and re-consecrated before it could be used again. There were a few grumbles from people who blocked other´s views but no blood was shed! I thought about this cathedral being declared a Patrimony of Human kind. It belongs to all the people of the world and the people of Satiago are the custodians. A pilgrim told us that she had walked to Rome and was revolted by the the cold, hard, lavish grandeur of St Peter´s compared to the bustling, éveryman´atmosphere in Sant Iago´s cathedral. I know what she meant. People here arrived in shorts, boots, walking sticks, packs still on their backs and nobody was turned away. At St Peter´s they scruitinze the length of your skirt, whether or not your arms are covered, and woe betide anyone who doesn´t meet the criteria!
When communion started and the 8 priests in scarlet robes were summonsed, there was a stirring in the congregation, most eyes on the Botafumeiro - was this it? Were they going to see the Holy Smoke burner swinging across the nave? No. Not yet, first communion and then the maroon robed tiraboleiros arrived and the large silver thurible was lowered to a stirring of the congregation. Cameras starting clicking and people jostled for a better position to take videos. Soon it started to swing, first away from where we were sitting and then higher and higher above our heads with large gasps, oohs! and Aaaahs! with each swing. Then it was over and people clapped. In 2002 when I walked to Santiago we saw the Botafumeiro swinging in the cathedral. Later, at a meeting with Don Jaime (priest in charge of the pilgrim´s office and the mass) he asked if we had enjoyed the mass. Ýes,´we said, ánd we saw the Botafumeriro.´ He was not pleased. ¨No importante´he said. But I don´t agree. Every pilgrim who visits the cathedral wants to see the Botafumeiro and those that don´t are usually disappointed.

After mass we window shopped and then went to a special lunch at the ´Cafe Casino´- I had a vegetarian canneloni with crispy cheese topping - very tasty. We then walked down to where Marion will get her bus, looking for a shoemaker to cut and restitch my new waist bag that I bought yesterday. The Info centre told us that there was one in San Pedro - the road that pilgrims walk in from the Camino Frances - so off we went to the other side of town. The shop was closed until 4pm so we had an icecream and strolled up and down San Pedro greeting tired pilgrims as they trudged through the Porto Camino on their way to the cathedral. We took a trip on the little tourist train on a scenic tour around Santiago. Neither of us is hungry so we sit in the square, Marion with wine and me with a Kas orange drink, a packet of Dortios, olives and some cheese and watch the people in the square. On the way back to the hostal we meander through all the little alleys and we are offered morsels of Tarta de Santiago and Carprichos - little almond meringues. Marion tastes the regional goat's cheese and decides to buy one to take home. Tomorrow Marion leaves for home and I start off on the Fistera route. I´m not nervous to be walking on my own as I know that many pilgrims walk this route. So, until the next internet machine, this is Sil, over and out from Santiago.

Marion Saturday.

I walked with Syl to the square, it was awful saying goodbye as I would have loved to have walked the extra few days, just a pity that I had booked my flight before we knew that Syl was going to walk to Finisterra instead of catching the bus. After leaving Syl I decided to go and have a coffee in one of the cafe bars before going back to the hotel to pack . When I arrived back at the hotel going up the stairs ahead of me I could see someone bending over with a backpack on with a South African flag. My mind was concertrating on what I was going to do for the rest of the day so at first did not register that it was Syl. It went through my mind "must be another South African in the hotel" all of a sudden the figure straightened up and I realised that it was Syl. I said " what on earth are you doing here", she told me that she had left her directions behind for the day and had come back for them and was busy writing me a note. So back to the square we went and another goodbye was said. Most of the day I wondered around the shops. I did go back to the cathedral to the pilgrim service at 12.00 and was ever so fortunate as again theyswung the botefumeira. I arrived at the airport early and they would not let me book in as the plane that was leaving from Madrid to South Africa had been overbooked by 10 people, they needed to wait to seeif I was going to be given a seat on that flight before they would book me from Santiago to Madrid. I was rather upset as I had confirmed my flight a few times. So I went and sat in the resturant and had something to ear and drink. The lady from the Iberia counter came to look for me and said that it had been confirmed that I would be on the flight so could now book in but the flight was delayed. So when I reached Madrid I had to hot foot it to my connecting flight. Can you imagine my relief when I sat down on the plane. Unfortunately when I arrived in Johannesburg my luggage had gone missing from the plane to the conveyer belt!! Luckily they found it and delivered to that night to my daughters in Joburg where I stayed for a couple of days before coming home to Durban. I am really sad that my journey is now over, will have to start planning another. I often look for my sticks when getting up from a chair and miss the backpack on my back. Cannot wait for a get together with Val & Syl to go over our times together.

Day 4: Bruma to Sigueiro

Marion
Very misty this morning lovely to walk whilst it was so cool. For the first 6k´s it was a long straight road, I thought it would never come to an end. At long last we entered a forest it had a few ups and downs then through farm lands, almost like small holdings. The farms in this area are very basic and simple.
We did walk through a couple of very small villages, everything was closed - so no morning coffee to be had anywhere. The last few k´s before reaching Sigueiro were again on a long straight road. Although it was a shorter walk than yesterday it seemed a lot longer, I suppose because it was mostly flat not much variation.
I look to find the good things whilst we were walking to take my mind off the long flat road, like the quietness, the birds singing etc. as I have to make the most of it as my walk is nearly over, only tomorrow for the last 17k to Santaigo.
Whatever village we have walked through in Spain is very noticeable that everyone has a vegetable patch - but what is amazing is that the amount of cabbages that everyone grows, I wonder who can ever eat that amount of cabbages! They also grow a lot of potatoes besides other vegetables.
In Galicia most of the dogs are all on a chain. So sad!!!

Sil
It was so quiet in the albergue that we both had a wonderful sleep. Hospital de Bruma is one of those tiny hamlets where you first come across a couple of animal barns, then a few houses on either side of the road, most that have their own barns as well, then a small stream, a tiny church and then you walk out the other side. 20 buildings all-in-all, if that.
We had a breakfast and then started walking to Sigueiro. We saw a woman cutting down cabbages. Almost every farmer grows tall, spindly cabbages which Marion thinks are used to make walking sticks.

One map said 22km to Sigueiro, the CSJ Guide says ±24km and Benino said 26km. No importante, we have to walk there no matter what the distance. The CSJ guide says, á pretty straightforward day´and they are not kidding. It was really heavy going with long, straight, tarred or gravelled roads through endless forests. It reminded me of walking through les Landes on the Via Turonensis route.

There were a few hamlets to pass through but nothing opens until around mid-day so we didn´t have a coffee opportunity. By the 15km mark my feet were starting to hurt underneath, something I´ve not had before. We stopped at a bus shelter at the 18km mark and I took off my boots to air my feet. I had red, hot spots under a few toes as well as the insteps and heels. This is a problem when walking on flat, tarred or gravel roads with boots. I added a bit of sheep wool and a small foam padding to the worst spot and hobbled on for another 8km. Long, long, flat, straight roads through endless forests with hardly a bird to be seen or heard and no other living thing for miles. At one time it started raining and we put on our raincoats but half an hour later it got hot again and we stopped to take them off.

At the approach to Siguerio the guide takes you down a waymarked path to the local swimming pool. ´´Turn left around the swimming pool, see the final marker pointing the way over waste ground´it says. We battled to find a marker as the whole area is under construction and had been graded and cleared with construction fences and the beginnings of buildings under way.

We found our way to the Hostal Miras, Downstairs was a cheerful bar which seemed to be run by a family of women: mother, daughters and grandchildren – a 15 month little girl who was well at home with the customers, and a new 6 day old baby, who may have been a boy, judging by the blue blanket. Upstairs the rooms are basic but adequate.an old but graceful hostal above a bar, and were taken upstairs to a room. I cooled my poor feet down with Alcohol Romeo and massaged them with Arnica. Then I hobbled to the bathroom and hey presto! there actually was a bath! I scuttled back to the room, collected my universal plug, and was soon soaking in a hot-tub with Arnica and the last of my shampoo. Bliss. We had a coffee at the Hostal Bar and found this internet Cafe in a bar down the road.
We will arrive in Santiago a day early and will have 2 nights there instead of one. I will be checking out the route into the city as it might have changed.

Camino Ingles - Day 1: 21st June Ferrol to Pontedeume

MarionI missed Val´s alarm clock this morning - Syl had set hers but for some reason it did not go off, we didn't really oversleep, were up at 6.15 and at the bus stop long before our bus was due. We went into the cafe to get something to eat and drink.
It was a 2hr bus ride to A Coruna and then another 1 1/2hrs bus ride to Ferrol, by the time we reached Ferrol it was already 12.30 so we dicided it was already quite late to begin walking 25k´s so caught a taxi 1ok´s to Neda. Although the train and bus ride were very scenic it was great to get back on the road, was a bit tired of sitting for so long. The secenery is very different here in Galicia, today we will be walking on the coast. We started off walking at 1.30pm and very soon we were on a secondary road climbing up and down (mostly up) with splendid views of the River Estuary. We walked through a few villages as one ended so another started. We walked through a couple of wooded forests, sometimes on grassy paths with grass almost as tall as us, some sand and rocky paths and some gravel and tar roads. All our walking today has been mostly in shade and it seemed mostly uphill. Always with pretty flowers alsonside of us and lots of wild cherry trees.
All of a sudden coming down a slope we could see a large beach full of people. The beach is in the village Cabanes 1k from Pontedenme where we stayed the night. We walked down to the beach and then along the promenade to our village. The guide book suggested that we go to Bar Louis as they have rooms to let, we found Bar Louis quite easily and have a very comfortable room.

This part of the camino doesn´t have many albergues so we will mostly stay in rooms or hostals. We settled in and both of us were hungry so went out to find something to eat. As usual most places were closed and would only open for dinner at 9.00pm far to late for us. It was 6.00pm and we really did not want to wait until 9.00pm. We walked around for a bit and luckily found a cafeteria adjoined to a hotel that was open and had a delicious salad and large plate of chips.


SilWe left the Hotel early and made our way around the ancient Lugo wall to the bus station. Two years ago, Marion, Finn, Anneliese and I walked the circumference of the wall along the walk way at the top and I still have a certificate on my wall at home that I received in 2004 after giving a donation to help preserve the wall. This time we kept to the lower pavements on our way to the station.
Depressing places stations. Especially over a weekend when there are few people and nothing is open. We discovered that there were no buses to Ferrol until 4pm so we opted on taking a bus to A Coruna and another from there to Ferrol.

We got the 8h10 bus to A Coruna, a 2 hour trip north to Betanzos and then veering west to A Coruna. We just missed the 10am bus to Ferrol and to wait an hour for the next one which was a slow bus and would take 1.45 hour to get there. We headed south to Betanzos again and then veered east towards Ferrol arriving there at about

12h40.
When we got there we had to decide what to do. Start walking to Neda 10 kms away and spend a night there: start walking the 25kms to Pontedeume (our original plan) which could take us ± 7 hours depending on the terrain. That would mean getting there at 8pm - too late for us.
Third option was to get a taxi 10km to Neda and start walking the rest of the 15km from there. We opted for plan 3 and took a taxi to the church of Santa Maria in Neda and started walking at about 1h30pm. The distance would still qualify Marion for a Compostela .
At first it was confusing following the arrows - some psychedelic yellow or green, others blue, some road paint yellow. Once we got used to the different signs we were fine.
The camino Ingles is very well marked with arrows and stele with shells. We hardly ever had to check Johnnie Walker´s notes but did so whenever there were confusing signs. It must´ve been a nightmare planning this route through forests, away from main roads, around little hamlets, industrial estates, across fields and through small hamlets past subsistence farms and alleys behind people´s houses.
Eventually we arrived at Cabanas at about 4:30pm to find thousands of people crammed onto the beaches and under the trees with cars jamming the little road we had to walk on to cross the river Eume into Pontedeume. We followed Johnnie´s directions, found the road San Augustin and Bar Louis (with the help of a kindly gentleman at a nearby bar) and were soon ensconced in a comfortable room with a modern en suite bathroom, all for 24€ for the room. Excellent value. Once washed and sorted we went out looking for food. Nearly every bar was closed to diners but we found the cafeteria at the Hotel across the road and a woman took pity on us starving pilgrims and made us a large salad and plate of chips with bread and vino. We scoffed the lot and returned to our room.
It was hot in the room so I tried to lift the metal, sliding window. It slipped and fell straight down, jamming the fingers on both hands between the bottom frame and the window. EEEEish!! It was like a guillotine and I lost my breath before shouting at Marion to open the window. The middle three fingers on my left hand were bleeding on top with deep purple blood blisters on the soft fleshy underneath parts. The right hand was more painful as they had been caught on the knuckles and were swelling fast. I ran to the bathroom and put them under a running tap. Marion went across the road to the cafeteria and told them she needed ice by pointing at someone´s drink. We put the ice in my facecloth glove and I held the cloth in both hands. If the window had been any wider open it might have chopped my fingers off! All I could think of was "How am I going to work at the albergue in Corcubion with broken fingers??"
I took two anti-inflamatories and, unused to drugs, they knocked me out. I was fast asleep, hands on my chest like a mummy in pose for the rest of the night.

Travelling Day

Marion
This morning we had breakfast together and then had to say goodbye to Val. I am so sorry she is not walking the rest of the way with us. I will miss my drinking partner!!
Syl and I spent nearly 2 hrs walking around Pampolona looking for an internet cafe but without success.
We caught a bus to the station and thought we would have something to eat at the station resturant before catching the train. Well one look at the food and decided against it and to rather just have a coffee and Syl a coke and we both had a packet of crisps.
We are now on the train almost a 10hr journey. Lovely scenery but a long and tiring journey. The train has a cafetaria so we have had somthing to eat and drink to pass the time. We change trains at Monforte at 8.oopm and will arrive in Lugo at 21.55. Luckily we are staying in a hotel tonight very close to the station and tomorrow catch our bus at 8.00am.

Sil
After a sad hug and a goodbye to Val, Marion and I walked around Pamplona before getting a bus to the train station in Pamplona and the train at 13h10 to Lugo. It was a long, looooooong... journey. Pamplona to Monforte Lemos, 8 hours - a 50 minute wait and then another hour to Lugo.
It was strange to pass ´camino´places along the way. Most looked very tired passing through the backsides of the towns! Burgos, Sahagun, Leon, Astorga, Sarria ... all with unkept yards, graffitti covered station walls and large, dirty blocks with washing hanging from every floor.
Passing through the meseta at breakneck speed was weird. Rolling brown fields for as far as the eye could see and the occasional stork swooping down from a church tower.
At 18h45 at Ponferrada the temperature was 32oC. When we arrived at Lugo at 10pm the sun was just setting and it was quite cool. We found the Hotel Muralla across the road from the train station - 40€ for a large triple room with en suite. Good value. We were exhausted (from doing nothing all day) and went straight to bed.

Val - (sacked Minister of Nutrition)
I am writing this again 3rd time...first time Tombi chewed it up, second time I deleted it instead of publishing it! Here we go again.....this morning we had breakfast together and then parted company. But we went to a wonderful food market and I took pictures of the fish counter which was amazing, I bought some walnuts and they had bags of snails hanging and they were still alive and their little heads were coming out between the netting...it was horrid.
I worry about Syl on her own but know that she is the most capable person and will be fine. I am also glad that I will soon be back in my own bed! I couldn't imagine anything worse that working at an Alburgue for 2 weeks and cleaning it...but Syl will do this with absolute aplomb.
I head for the department store which is huge and lovely and I love Pamplona....there is something exciting about being in a city for the first time...and with a credit card! (or two).
I go straight to the cooks' floor and buy a real Spanish Tortilla pan, the sort with two pans which hinge together so you can flip it over (I cooked one when I got home and was really pleased with it!).
I bought two espresso stove top coffee makers, that makes about 4 we own now! But these are stainless steel and good looking. I buy a pair of shoes and some luggage but now my feet are really hurting and swelling up so I have to give in and go back to the hotel.
I call a taxi, sort out my luggage and then he arrives. Any Spanish that I possessed deserts me and between flapping my arms and looking up at the sky the taxi driver says "Aerporto" and we are on our way. He attempts to ask me where I am from and I think he is asking where am I FROM, so I say South Africa, and he says "oh Blanco" yep white. But what he meant was where have I walked from, so eventually I click and say Lourdes. We travel the remainder of the journey in silence. Conversation has been limited this trip to "where have you walked from, where are you walking to and where are you from...South Africa...oh Blanco"

I fly to Barcelona and hit the duty free... Martin sms's me to say the card is beeping away and I assure him that the shops are about to close. I finish shopping and go to a bar have a couple of glasses of wine and write my blog... which Tombi chews up, I retype and delete it and type it again.....I love people watching and next to me are two 'oaks' from Melrose...well they have that on their t shirts...looks like some bar in Melrose. They see some young girls (American) and begin to swap the usual macho remarks and I think you 'oakes' don't stand a chance...they really are not great looking but I like them 'cause they are South African and I am homesick. Then the flight is ready and we board. I take out my contact lenses and settle down for the long trip to JHB. However, we then learn that we are only flying to Madrid where the passengers will split to catch connecting flights to Montevideo, Mexico and JHB. I must say I thought it strange that so many Spanish people would be flying to JHB. Problem, I have taken my contacts out and now have to run to catch the connecting flight. I cannot see and do not have time to put the lenses in so a young couple from Port Elizabeth take pity on me and I follow them up and down escalators and on the train. I also look out for my Melrose 'oakes' so I shouldn't get lost...really don't fancy Mexico tonight. Finally on the plane and my feet are huge and swollen and shooting with pain.
I have a couple of glasses of tinto and have a really good sleep. However, the changing of planes has left my itineary really tight and I have barely 10 minutes to spare to get to the boarding gates. I go to the baggage carousel and don't for one moment expect my case to be there given all of the plane changes. And even if it is, I couldn't get it wrapped at Pamplona so they have probably had their pickings at the notorious JHB airport.
I don't find it straightaway so do the usual recce to find out where Baggage Services are...have you noticed how it used to be called Lost Baggage, then Baggage Enquiries and now most are Baggage Services...you can just imagine.
" Hello baggage, and what can we do for you? She what, sat on you to get your zip done up and then called you a 'cheap and nasty little suitcase'...well that's physical and mental abuse. Well we can offer you a week in Dubai...oh, had enough of shopping with her have you...well what about a week in the sun with the bronze Samsonite over there and his friend who is real leather? Ok, well just a week because we have to return you within 10 days, have our reputation to protect you know."
And along comes my case, in perfect condition...I race through Nothing to Declare but get the eye and am called out of the queue. Then the custom officer says to unlock and undo my back pack and the first thing to come our is the lovely and very expensive Chorizo that I bought at the airport. He takes out his penknife and cuts it through and then chucks it into the dustbin...ouch!
Anymore he says, I tell a porkie and say no. Then he takes out the bag of walnuts and cuts it open so they fall on the floor, what are they he says...nuts I say, ok. Then I scramble and pick them up not sure if I am allowed to have them and escape when he then moves to the next person. I race to the boarding gate realising that my cell is flat and I have to quickly phone Martin. I buy some sweets with a R10 note and get change which I duly put into the wrong slot and it doesn't refund. Buy another sweet and get change and this time get through to Martin.
Then race to the gates and board the plane to Durban...I want to be home now.
I arrive, get my suitcase and see Martin immediately, what a lovely sight. He takes me home, opens a bottle of champagne and presents me with a beautiful basket of my favourite flowers of roses and lilies. My feet are huge but the Champagne works as a pain killer but Martin has anti-inflammatories ready and by the morning they are beginning to go down.
I had a lovely nights sleep after one of my favourite meals cooked by Martin...seafood pasta with the mussels which Martin had gathered. Next morning off for an overhaul, hair and nails and to feel human again and then finally to the biokinecist to sort out my feet.
I have torn the ligaments and my achilles and have some therapy and then sent off strapped up and told to stop wearing high heels and start stretching...the reason is that my calves are too tight and the stoney terrain and not doing my boots up to the ankles has probably been the cause. But he said it was going to happen because my calves are just too tight and I am upset, because it has really knocked my confidence of a long walk again. I am cross because I did 700km in Italy without so much as a blister and this trip has only been around 300kms.
And so Bon Camino my two friends, go well and return safely......

Day 14: Eunate to Pamplona

Marion
Jean had told us last night that breakfast would be at 7.ooam. When we went down to the kitchen he had laid out such a spread. I could not do justice to the breakfast as I was still so full from the night before. The generosity of Jean was amazing as our accomodation and food was not a set price but by donation.
We started off walking between 7.30 and 8.ooam a lot cooler again. We had not gone very far when it started raining, at first spitting and then a bit harder so we stopped and put on our raincoats. We had a long climb up on river boulders, rocks and stones, we were walking against a very strong wind. We passed a lot of pilgrims who were walking the opposite way. Often stopped and chattered to them. When we reached the top Alto del Perdon the wind was howling and lots of mist. Their was a combi parked at the top selling drinks and snacks, so we had a coffee took some photos of the splendid views and the metal peregrinas and started our steep decent again on, boulders, rocks and stones. By 1/2 way down it had become quite hot so we stopped and took off our raincoats.
Coming down we had splendid views of Pamplona and took a few photos. In Pamplona we are staying in a super hotel we have a large room for the three of us and of course our own toilet and bathroom. It is amazing how excited we were to discover in our bathroom, large fluffy towls, shampoo, soap, we could have a shower or a bath even a bidet and ,can you believe it a hair dryer. After bathing and doing our washing which we hung all over the bathroom and the room we spent a couple of hours wandering around the city. Unfortunately we never found an internet cafe to post on the blog. One thing I could not get over is that every car in Pamplona has a dent or or two on their car. I think the roads are so narrow that they bump into each other all the time or take the corners too sharply. Val very kindly took us out for dinner for her last night in Spain.

Sil
Everyone in our room is up just after 6am. Breakfast is all ready for us when we get downstairs. Jams, marmelades, madelena cakes, toast, cheese, salami - coffee, various teas and hot chocolate for me.
Today the clouds are heavy and there is a thick mist. Jean points out our road to Muruzabal. We will be waking against the 'camino tide' all the way to Pamplona.
´The sun will burn it off´I say. ´That´s what Martin always says´comments Val, ánd it never does!´ She is right. By the time we are on the path to Muruzabal the wind has strengthened and it is starting to rain. We take out our ALTUS raincoats for the first time since France. Everyone we meet is walking from east to west and we are walking to eastwards to Pamplona. We pass through Uterga and many pilgrims stop to ask us why we are going in the opposite direction. Most have pale complexions, showing that they have just started walking (we look like walnuts). By the time we reach the rocky path up to the Alto del Perdon the wind is howling and we are being buffeted so strongly that even our sticks are swaying in the wind.
"So, you have had a nice easy camino, along sundrenched paths, no rain for two weeks and very little wind? ´Hmmmm??´ponder the Gods of the Winds. Let´s end this camino with a flourish." And so they do. The wind nearly blows us off the mountain. The rain is lashing down. It is a gruelling climb up the slipery river boulder strewn path to the top of the Alto. There is a van parked there with a fellow offering coffee and food. We buy a cup of coffee but delcine the food. We take photos of the metal sculptures and then start our descent. It is muddy and narrow and we jostle on the path with pilgrims coming up.
´Where are you coming from?´asks a couple. ´We started in Lourdes we say, and have walked the Aragones. We are now going to Pamnplona.´ They look impressed. ´
We have just started´they say, ánd already we are exhausted. Will they make it to Santiago? I hope so. The sun comes out and we walk uphill to Cizur Menor. Val thinks that we are in Pamplona. She takes off her boots and puts on her Crocs. She has already given her sticks away. ¨We are at 45th Cutting¨I say ¨we still have about 5kms to go to the centre of Pamplona.
I feel bad for her. We could have a got a bus to Pamplona but I wanted her to walk to the final city so that she would feel the same sense of achievement as when we walked into Rome. This walk is turning into a long, hard slog for her instead. sWe stop at a cafe-bar where three women are eating huge plates of eggs, sausage and chips. We are told that the kitchen is now closed so we just have something to drink. We continue onto Pamplona which we can see ahead of us all the way.
We follow a rather boring, route through the outskirts along the camino signs in the cyclist´s lane all the way to the Plaza del Castillo. We find our hotel and check in.
This is the end of the Aragones for us three and the end of the camino for Val. After a lovely looooong... hot soak in the bath, Marion and I walk to the Plaza del Castillo to find the internet cafe up the side street but it is closed. We go back to the hotel and the three of us wander around the old city looking at the exhibits in the square. We take Val to Cortes Ingles and I buy a Spanish Sim Card for my cell phone. I buy our train tickets at the Renfe office across the road.
We ask for a referral for the best restaurant to have tapas. "Iruna" we are told is the most popular. We have a drink next door at the Hemingway bar and Val stands us to our last supper at the Iruna.
Back at the hotel we sort through all our stuff and I give Val a few items to take back to South Africa - tights, fleece, chill-cheater pants which I doubt I will need again on this trip. She lays out her medical supplies and Marion and I decide what we need to replenish our stocks. My pack seems much lighter and I am even able to fit my boots into it. Tomorrow I will wear the Crocs on the train.

Sil - 20th June: Morning in Pamplona
We decide to have a last breakfast together and I take Val and M to the little cafe-bar off the Plaza del Castillo where they serve delicious churros con chocolate. We then meander down the 'calle antica' to the St Jacques Puerta, meeting a few pilgrims coming up the hill into the old city.
Val wants to do shopping so we say goodbye and Marion and I collect our things from the hotel and walk down to the bus stop where we get a bus to the train station.

Val - Minister of Nutrition
Well we bid our farewells to Jean and other Pilgrims and start to walk, Jean calls out "wrong way" but Syl points out that we are indeed going the right way, to Pamplona where they will catch transport to commence their next walk. and I will fly home.

As such we are walking "against" the pilgrims, the most I have seen on this trip. We walk up as they walk down! When we get to the top it is like being on the English Moors, it is thick mist but beautiful. A man has a campervan where he is offering hot coffee and chocolate, and yes Spanish Tortilla (By the way, I am writing this after my return - I have had to start from scratch because Tombi, my puppy Great Dane ate all the notes that I sat and wrote in the airport waiting room) anyway....one of my purchases was a Tortilla pan and I made Martin a rather good Tortilla that Sebastien would have been impressed with.... anyway...we stop and have a coffee and take pictures of "The Pilgrims Monument on El Perdon mountain pass"...they are life size statues which represents a group of pilgrims guided by the Milky Way and in just a few years has, become one of the most famous landmarks on the Jacobean Route.... I am absolutely captivated by it. We would have like to have had a photo with us inbetween the individuals, but the wind was blowing so hard, I fear we would have disappeared over the edge!
I start off ok as far as the feet go but very soon with the uneven terrain of stones, stones and more stones they give up. I can feel that they are very swollen now inside by boots. As we come down and out of the hills we begin to walk on tar roads and I completely misunderstand Syl because I think she says we are on the outskirts of Pamplona. I give my sticks away at the earliest opportunity... many pilgrims are setting out without sticks and have no idea what is awaiting them, climbing up in that wind.
Then off come the boots and on go the crocs and although my feet are feeling dreadful, I know I am almost there.... we come to a bar and this time I say, girls I'm having a glass of tinto... I never drink wine during the walking day but hey...I 'm almost there!
Then I find out that we have to go through this small town and then walk on to Pamplona!! Hell, I am in agony now...I have no idea what is wrong with my feet although Syl has been saying that it is my Achilles and the pain is searing up through the back of the ankles.
Well we make it to Pamplona and I love its atmosphere immediately, it is buzzing and alive and very attractive. Our hotel is wonderful... Syl you are amazing! We have a "suite" with our room and a corridor and a bath with real soap, towels, hot water and a BATH! I cannot describe the feeling of lying in a bath with my throbbing feet being allowed to float.
I clear out my back pack - what a feeling...I set up a "shop" on the end of my bed for Syl and Marion to pick from...pegs, bandages, sheeps wool, etc. After they have had their pickings I dump the rest in the bin.
In the evening, we find a shop and I buy a small suitcase as I plan on shopping and will take a few small things home for the girls save them carrying them now. I empty my back pack into the suitcase...I need that for duty free.
I am taking the girls for supper to thank them for all they have done to make my trip so easy...Marion has made us rain suits, chill cheaters, bags and all sorts of things. Syl has made us wonderful spats..even with a SA flag(!) and has planned and booked the entire trip...also been shopping with us both....hilarious sometimes...in a shop Marion and I will pick up something and then behind us will come Syl "too heavy, don't need it, put it back!!"
We have asked advice as to which restaurant we should visit. Before supper we go into Ernest Hemingway's bar - it is beautiful...a life sized bronze statue of him leaning against the bar and pictures and architecture. The barman has been here for something like 20 years. I have my first glass of Cava (excellent quality sparkling wine closest to Champagne) and it goes straight to my head! Then we move onto the restaurant (I think it was called Iruna - avoid it at all costs). Inside is stunning, it looks like an old railway station tea room, it has beautiful tiled floors, huge mirrors and lighting, gleaming bar. We looked at the menu at lunchtime and know exactly what we want. We have another drink there and then move to our table. As is usual, we are brought wine and bread which we tuck into...it is around 930pm and we as usual are starving. Then finally we are given the menu...but it is different to the one we looked at lunchtime and missing much of the dishes we had chosen. However, we have drunk half the wine and all of the bread so we decide to stay.
Once again, there is not much for Syl to choose from..s o she has a salad to start (once again having to say no Tuna). Marion and I have seafood in a scallop shell which we thought was most appropriate...I refuse to call it by its correct name as it would be an insult to the real dish. It is a grey thick congealed sauce, which when prodded with a fork, comes away from the dish in one whole piece. It is disgusting.
Next course, none of us can have our desired dish so Syl has what is described as a potato bake but it comes with two fried eggs on top...poor Syl she never complains. Marion and I have 'confit of duck' and pork. Both dishes look exactly the same...some meat and chips with a brown gravy over... this again has been plated some hours ago and shoved in a microwave and has congealed around the edges.
Pudding was the best... a commercial icecream in a pastic tub which thankfully the "Chef" has not been able to get his hands on. It is one of the worst meals I have ever had and my last chance of eating something wonderful in Spain.
We are exhausted and go back to the hotel. I curl up in my bed and my feet are pulsing and shooting with pain but I know I will not have to walk tomorrow.