Eve of Fiesta de San Jorge, Caceres, Extremadura, Spain

My second night at Pension Carretero on Plaza Mayor. I have watched the city's preparations for tomorrow's festivities. Even a dragon-slaying will take place!
Right now, sitting in my room with a view, I am listening to the wandering Tuna de Caceres, a wandering troupe of musicians in a renessaince garb with beautiful red capes, moving from one restaurant to another,
Serenading its customers. A growing buzz of people pouring out of everywhere
Onto the plaza, mixing with the sounds of tambourine, guitar, and a chorus of
Male voices. I think I shall go and join the buzz. Sitting in my room is not really
Better for my aching feet than being down there, with other humans.

Its been a while since I wrote anything, but admittedly, I was too tired to care

Villafranca de los Barros

I had this beautiful prose composed here, but then decided to start a petition to the Government of Spain not to build a refinery 7.5 km south of this lovely white town in ¨¨Extremadura, Spain, and of course apperetly
So, first of all, PLEASE DO SIGN MY PETITION!
If you follow my twitter caminos_spain, you will see some pictures there:  maybe 500-year old olive trees waiting to be cut down in the name of progress and our thirst for more and more gasoline.  Old houses and olive presses, instead of being renovated and made work on a new and evergrowing popular pilgrim route of Via de la  Plata, where there are not enough facilities to accomodate those people that come here, to see the wonders of Spain, from all over the world, will be torn down.  It is only mid-April, the holy year is here, this is the great chance for the region to reap income from us, and already there are not enough places to sleep.  And this is what brings us here: not Pope Benedict, not abuses of the Church, not disregard for silly, to most pilgrims, beliefs, but Spain!  The wondrous Spain! The one who managed to escape (so far) the fate of most other European countries.  
I walked only 21km today, but counting for all that sliding and glinding and sinking and drowning and swimming back up to the top of the beautiful clay-like muddy, red, or cafe-con-leche, earth, was a wondrous experience that added some 7km to may walk, so
The town is beautiful, all white, very busy.  And serve such good food.  I had lunch at Meson Monterrey.  In my broken Spanish, upon entry, I said: "Un Vasco hable que comio bien aqui," was greeted with lughter and taken into their dining room.  Everything was delicious: soup, entree, and my dessert. And then a little shot of patxaran before going off to siesta. Ok, I should be going off to siesta.
One more thing: this must be the most beautiful Camino route.  So far most agree.
Vale, siesta time.

Via de la Plata, Day 2

Last night, my bones were painfully letting me know I walked to far on the first day. Luckily, the two Canadians I shared my room with were not as bad snorers as they have warned me.
I did get to sleep, quite well as things of my own doing permitted. In the morning, I received an email from USGS about a big earthquake in Granada, Spain. Not far from here, no one felt a thing.
Then, pack up, contacts, boots on, and on to the bar across the street. Of course with an Italian, Maria, who needs her cafe con leche to start the day. Bar was closed. Maria stayed to wait, I went on. Good for me - many bars, opened at this hour, before leaving
Castilblanco. Then 16 (or, according to my GPS 18) kilometers
along a paved local road, but through a wonderful landscape. And then: a wonderul rest of the way crossing the Sierra Norte Parque Natural. How wonderful! At the end, climbing the Calvary (Alto de Calvaria, Cerro de Calvaria), before descending into the town of Almaden de la Plata.
PLEASE FOLLOW MY caminos_spain MESSAGES and PICTURES on twitter,
As I am not sure when I will be able to put any here.
Tomorrow my plan is to get to Monesterio, but I might decide against it on account of my Achilles' tendon.
I shall go to sleep early again, and now I am so lazy after eating a dessert of home-made flan (a rarity so far in all my
Pelegrinations on all the Caminos so far). It was so delicious after climbing Calvary with that cross of a backpack helping me along my route to redemption.

Via de la Plata, Day 2

Last night, my bones were painfully letting me know I walked to far on the first day. Luckily, the two Canadians I shared my room with were not as bad snorers as they have warned me.
I did get to sleep, quite well as things of my own doing permitted. In the morning, I received an email from USGS about a big earthquake in Granada, Spain. Not far from here, no one felt a thing.
Then, pack up, contacts, boots on, and on to the bar across the street. Of course with an Italian, Maria, who needs her cafe con leche to start the day. Bar was closed. Maria stayed to wait, I went on. Good for me - many bars, opened at this hour, before leaving
Castilblanco. Then 16 (or, according to my GPS 18) kilometers
along a paved local road, but through a wonderful landscape. And then: a wonderul rest of the way crossing the Sierra Norte Parque Natural. How wonderful! At the end, climbing the Calvary (Alto de Calvaria, Cerro de Calvaria), before descending into the town of Almaden de la Plata.
PLEASE FOLLOW MY caminos_spain MESSAGES and PICTURES on twitter,
As I am not sure when I will be able to put any here.
Tomorrow my plan is to get to Monesterio, but I might decide against it on account of my Achilles' tendon.
I shall go to sleep early again, and now I am so lazy after eating a dessert of home-made flan (a rarity so far in all my
Pelegrinations on all the Caminos so far). It was so delicious after climbing Calvary with that cross of a backpack helping me along my route to redemption.

Leaving Sevilla

The day came - I am setting out on my first day on the Via de la Plata. I could not imagine, how heavu 3 kg feels until I filled my Camel, and put the backpack on again. It was so infinetely light and easy to carry without the water! Oh, bummer. I will need to carry that much everyday. What can I say, I am a heavy drinker.
Sevilla is so beautiful, but already yesterday, when I woke up at a decent hour, and - seemingly -
Without any jetlag, I got an itch to go. Then the last night, planned as my last night there, I could not sleep at all.
ToSsing, turning, later in the night falling in and out of sleep, how will I walk today?
I will try and keep you updated on my pelegrinations.

The trailer for The Way is out!

Thoughts to a Book Never Written

A catch is in a phenomenon of identity itself: when our identities direct our lives, our lives are directed by our prejudices.
Sometimes, when I write down something and find it among my notes, years later, or perhaps it is a quote I wrote down, then I read it, and think, "What the heck, why would I ever want to set it down on paper, to remember it, what's the big deal?"
Perhaps nothing ever said makes a gargantuan difference.  Otherwise, by now I would have written at least one of those books I decided, at one time or other in my life, to write.  All those greatest books ever written were never written.  Not like humanity is lacking because my doubtful talent did not find its way out of the dark corridors of my universe.
Another reason I never write my first book: my prejudice.  If I know something, if I experience something, then surely everyone else in the world knows it, experiences it  as well.  Then why even bother saying it, or trying to explain?  And especially with my widely known ability (!)(?) to explain anything at all? I do not even understand myself when I try to explain something, anything.
Is lying the greatest compulsion we have?  Lying first of all to our own selves, deceiving ourselves as to who we are, what do we represent, and what we know of ourselves.  The truth is, we do not really know much, probably close to nothing, and we are afraid of that not-knowing.  Therefore, fear makes us deceive first ourselves, and then that which we perceive as a dangerous outside.  And that is not necessarily what we think of as our hated enemies. It is our friends, our family, and then the self, again. 
Dig deeper.  Conquer your fear.  Fear is the source of pain.  Become friends with your pain, and you will not be so afraid.

MY PACKING LIST

So you want to join the legions of the Camino de Santiago addicts?  Here is what I have to say about the material needs, that is the stuff of your burden that you must carry day in and day out on your back.  Unless you walk with a lama or a donkey or a mule or a horse or a camel, or if you are a one to bike.
First, consider your weight.  The packed backpack's base weight should never ever exceed 10% of your body weight.  Then you add several pounds of water, and some grub, and you will curse your fate.  And in most probability, you will continue walking.  With your backpack.
Second, put out all the things you are going to carry out on your bed.  Take a kitchen scale, and weigh every item.  To me, metric scale is better - I can scale down grams, not ounces! Yoohoo!
Calculate the total.   Try to decide against certain items.  File off a handle of your toothbrush, do anything to rid yourself even of tiny tiny things.  Because right now you think your backpack weighs nothing at all.  But after a couple of days on the Camino, you will want to kill your backpack.  Slaughter it and feed it to hungry dogs.  Or hogs.
There are people, who travel with unusual animals to help them carry the load.  Then there are people, who carry unusual items.   Like a hairdryer.  Or a paella pan.  Or a set of chef's knives (that would be a chef, right?).
And there are people, who travel with a bottle of water, a pilgrim's staff, and a credit/ATM card.  People, who send their underwear and socks in small packages to themselves to cities along the Camino, and never wash their socks nor underwear, just dispose of them.
This is a guaranteed thing: you will meet plenty of characters along The Camino.  And the more, the better.

Your backpack must be chosen for its weight and carrying comfort. Smaller does not necessarily mean easier to carry.  I carry my Osprey 50-liter pack, even though 44 liters would be enough.  Ghadi carries a 42-liter one, and she is super happy with it.  Tiana and Kim have Deuter packs of around 44 liters, and those are great for them.  I tried all of them, and the one I have is the one that is most comfortable for me.
Right now, I  am packed and ready to go on the Via de la Plata.  My pack weighs (backpack, and all the things in it, with a filled 3-liter Camelback bladder in it) 23.8lbs.  That is 17.2 lbs without the water.  Too much, of course.  I will work on it.  I still have time.  Except this time I will not have my companions, into whose backpacks I may secretly put some of my things.  I am going to walk alone again, like in 2003 (I walked Camino Frances in 2006, and Camino de la Costa / Camino del Norte in 2009 in teh company of my daughters).

So, here is my list:
EARPLUGS!
Passport pouch with: passport, credit and ATM cards, credencial de peregrino (remember to write your passport number in your credencial, then most of the time you do not have to show your passport to anyone)
Camelback, plus a spare tip
spare bootlaces
Glasses, sunglasses, contact lenses plus cleaning solution and container
Toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss
Soap/shampoo/conditioner (I will test-drive the little packages of those in small boxes of thin foils)
SUNBLOCK, also for lips
Cream of lotion
Some laundry detergent (lots of washing machines in Spain have their own detergent system connected and included in the price of a load)
Anti-chafing stick (I buy mine in Spain, and use it on my feet before putting my socks on in the morning)
Compeed - buy in Spain; any other product, even seemingly the same and made by the same company, that you buy Stateside, does not work well on sweaty pilgrim-feet)
Deodorant, the regular one you always use
Supplements, electrolytes
Ultra-light towel
Ultra-light umbrella
Hat, netting (against annoying bugs and flies while walking)
Feminine napkins, tampons (or a shaving kit for a man)
Rain jacket
RAIN COVER FOR YOUR BACKPACK
Baby safety pins - for attaching wet socks etc to your pack so they can dry during your walk
A whistle
Some tissues
Sleeping bag, ultra-light (in summer even just a liner might be enough)
2 changes of clothing (one on you, one in the pack):
- shirt
- hiking skirt or pants
- underwear
- socks (I use only sock liners, and use soft insoles for extra padding in my boots)

Sarong, super light shorts
Swiss Card
Celtic salt (when I walk, all the food is not salty enough for me)
Toe separators
Small bottle of sanitizer attached to the backpack
Analgesic (a few tablets)
Hiking poles, lightweight
Some ziplocks
A guidebook or a map or both or none (Camino Frances is marked so well you will not really need anything)
Perhaps some Spanish frasebook
A notebook, a pen, a sketchbook, pencils
Flip-flops, sandals, or such (for walking at the albergue and when not carrying backpack)
YELLOW ROAD-SAFETY VEST (drivers will really appreciate you having one when walking along the roads, and this adds a lot to your safety without adding much to the weight of your burden; really)
Jetlag Tabs!
Entirely optional:  a camera, memory cards, mobile phone, chargers

I think I might not have omitted anything.

Ultreia!  Buen Camino!

A Rainy Day

"Le dijo el peregrino al maestro:

- ?Que es la libertad?

Maestro:

- La libertad es vuestro alimento.

- Maestro, y ?que es de los suenos?

- Ay... los suenos... los suenos son vuestro sostento.

- Maestro, por ultimo, ?y las fronteras?

- Las fronteras son barreras a saltar.

- Gracias, Maestro.

- !!Animo!!"

             by Juan FraBlazques, aka "Canillas y Royehuesos", a pilgrim, on August 29, 2002, in Vega de 

                     Valcarce

I spent the night there on October 18, 2003. On the very rainy afternoon of that day, I sat on the ground floor of the albergue, in the dining room, with Robin  "del Bosque" from England, and we poured over the cliche' entries left in two books by pilgrims before us.  We had some rather nice but silly idea of leaving our comments on a margin by every entry.  I do not know, why we gave up on that...

Perhaps the reason was that I suddenly was overtaken be a need to call home.  

I found a phone that would accept my calling card at a bar in the next village going back were I came from.  On the way, in the pouring rain, I met the two American girls that have begun their pilgrimage almost with me, in Roncesvalles.  I do not recall their names, only that they both just graduated from Washington State, and one was from there, the other one from New York.  I have not met them for weeks, then saw them in Astorga, and now here again for a fleeting moment, just long enough to exchange few words and smiles.  One last time I will see them at the Cathedral in Compostela.  Somehow all the pilgrims meet there for the last time.    You don't  see people for weeks, and then you meet them at the Cathedral anyway.

The village's name was Ambasmestas, I think.  There was a small hotel there, and not too far from it - a bar.  It was full of men when I came in, all drinking beer (contrary to popular belief, beer seems to be more popular a drink in Spain than wine) or beer with milk.  One of the men was drunk, and kept on ordering more beer with milk. I felt lucky that he left the bar before I ended my 50-minute plus on the phone with Richard and the girls.  

There was not much space, and so I ended up next to him.  I always order something at a bar if I want to use either phone or a bathroom.  So, after the drunkard left, and the remaining balance on my calling card was zero, I ordered my corto, and had with it some citrus soda on the side.  I was very thirsty, and wanted more and more and more of the soda, but it was so expensive!  I should stick with wine.  Or beer.  

A trip is always something else that what we imagined before actually setting out, embarking on it.  Did I say that?  Who said that?  Hmm...  Maybe I did, after all.

All changes, even if anticipated, will be unexpected and surprising.

Meeting the Devil

Muslims will cast seven stones at the devil at the end of Ihram.  I cast seven stones at the devil at the end of the Camino, almost at the end - not at the Cathedral, but at the top of Monjoi, or Mount Gozo: a hill outside of Santiago de Compostela from which pilgrims glimpse Santiago (and they say, Cathedral; this, however, does not agree with what I saw, and I really did try to find that place from which it would be possible to see the Cathedral.  Fruitlessly.), awaiting them.  Mount of (Pilgrims') Joy.
I cast seven stones for seven of us: myself and my closest beloved.  Devil, eat the dust and go to hell.  I made it, even though you tried your best to stop me.  And I carried those stones to cast on you all the way from Foncebadon.

My entries for September 27, 2003:

Left Puente la Reina at about 7:50 a.m.  Hell in Estella.  Hell of a hostel. Really a hell.  Puente la Reina to Estella with all those detours was really 26-28km, not 19!  I hate it here.  Someone put something sticky on my sleeping bag.  I slept next to a husband of a French woman who slept over me in the bunk bed.  Yuck.  The guy kept running, wearing only his skimpy underwear, to the bathroom, and I "slept" next to it.  The door opened onto my face.  God, this thing happening to my feet is NOT normal.  Cannot be.  I am pretty fit, and with the backpack I am faster than most on the Camino, but no one has such problems as I do.  I cannot walk anymore! I walked 5 days, rested 3, I cannot walk! God! Do something!  Please!

That was the day you introduced yourself to me.  My little private personal devil.  You followed me, and on the way to Estella I felt I would meet you face to face.  I resisted.  I was afraid.  I cursed the Way.  I cursed my feet.  I cursed the city I was walking towards on that day.  I did not want to get there at all. And the moment I walked in from the countryside, and inhaled the offending scent of the beer prep, I saw the slum apartments by the river, I cursed that city, that awful city where I was meant to meet you.
Then, by the water fountain set up for pilgrims - like everywhere else along the Way - you came for the first encounter, in a face of a young man.  You were there to see me through his eyes that were your eyes right then for a moment, to see if I see you, and how do I notice you, and how do I react. Oh, you almost stopped me, you almost made me do what you wanted me to do.  But I did notice, and I realized who you were, who you are.  I walked on, and you waited for me.  There, in Estella, you did all you could to stop me, to show, to prove to me you are the master in this relationship.
I dreaded the night, and when it came, you came with it.  You spent the night at my side in me in my soul in my brain in my heart there beside me on my bed nest to the toilets at a hostel in Estella.  It was a night of our battle, and I got to know who you are, and now I am no longer afraid of you, my own little Devil.  Now I know you, and the fear is gone.