After our short visit, we started out and I told the Spanish gentleman running the cafe, "Hasta la proxima", which means, "See you the next time." He looked at me funny and we walked along a bit, passing a very pretty little house and then starting down a rather steep hill. I had to photograph the house with its flowers set out all along the ledges.
As we started down the steep grade, Sharon stopped short with a look of surprise. "My trekking poles!" They weren't in her hands! You may have noticed them in the pictures: they look something like poles for snow skiing, and they are invaluable for ascending and descending and just helping you move along and stay sturdy while you're walking with a pack on. Where could they be?
Keep going, I told her, and I would go back and find them. We didn't want to lose momentum! So I turned around and walked back maybe just a city block, and there they were leaning against the wall at the little outdoor coffee shop. The Spaniard looked surprised to see me. "I told you, 'See you next time,'" I said to him. "This is the next time!"
It was still fairly early, just mid-morning, and we had been walking about two hours through oak forest and open wheat fields, with gorgeous mountain views off in the distance. They resembled the Cliffs of Insanity, we decided, and that was fitting.
It had been a difficult night. When we got back to our albergue following dinner and posting yesterday's blog, we noticed that the sign out front said: 34 beds--no vacancy. That meant that all of the bunk beds in our lodging were taken and it would be our first night sleeping in such conditions.
The unisex shower room hadn't been a problem as there were four separate shower stalls completely enclosed and private. You could speak to the person next to you, if you wanted, but no one did. Now the unisex bathroom was another matter. There were four separate stalls in the bathroom and the dividers went all the way to the floor, so there was a modicum of privacy. However, while there had been no talking in the shower room, the ladies around me in the unisex bathroom were carrying on lively conversations in Spanish. What an experience!
It was lights out and quiet time from 10 pm until 7 am, so we climbed into our bunks before it got dark. We shared a sleeping pill and I put in my ear plugs hoping to get a good night of sleep, but I awoke around 2 a.m. as I had the night before. Jet lag! But at least I had complete privacy in the bathroom at that hour!
I returned to my bunk bed and soon dozed back off, but was awakened at 5 a.m. by the young German lad on the bunk bed next to me. I had rolled over on to my back and Sharon can attest to what happens when I'm in that position! I must have been sawing some big ones. I apologized and rolled over on my side, wondering why he had singled me out among all the other snorers in the room. I was the closest to him, I suppose!
Sharon woke me up a little before 7 and said we had better get up, most everyone else had already left. Miraculously, all but about three people had gotten out of bed, packed their bags and left. I must have been sleeping well!
We got on the road about 8 a.m. and crossed the Carcel Bridge over the River Erga, looking for our morning coffee. Both of us were tired and groggy, but I was awake enough to snap a picture or two from atop the bridge:
In France we had called it pain au chocolat, but here in Spain it had another name, which I really must learn. It's simply some croissant bread cooked around a chocolate bar. The kids loved them in France and in West Africa, and they are good in Spain too.
Back on the road, and it wasn't long before we came to the Irache Monastery. Seems the Way makes a point of passing as close as possible to each church building in northern Spain! It made a great photo with the sun shining behind it and the sky covered with morning clouds:
But what really made that location famous to pilgrim travelers was what stood just across the street--the wine museum, which looked as though they produced or stored a good bit of wine, judging from the barrels out front. Attached to the rear of the building stood the Wine Fountain, free wine at the turn of a spigot! When we walked up to take a picture our friend from Reunion was washing his hands in it, and a group of French ladies were waiting to take their turn. The left side spigot featured wine, the right side water, so we took advantage! Here's what it looked like:
We rejoined the road with the intention of arriving in Villamayor de Monjardin by lunch, a 10 kilometer walk. There were two little villages along the way, including Azqueta and Irache, and fortunately both had coffee shops. I will perhaps at a later date author a book on coffee shops of northern Spain, as I should have enough illustrations to fill it up!
The advantage to stopping frequently for coffee is that, so far, all of the shops have had clean, modern toilet facilities, for which we are grateful. And the burst of caffeine from an espresso can't hurt anything.
It was beautiful countryside, including the oak forest, that looked as though it would make the perfect setting for a fantasy movie of some kind. There were also rolling hills of wheat, lots of vineyards and mountains all around. Ahead of stood a conical peak with a very pointy top, and we would eventually get pretty close to it at Monjardin. Here are some photos from our morning walk:
And finally, none too soon, the steeple in Monjardin came into view, signalling lunch time!
We were about done in, and Sharon's legs and blisters were really bothering her. As we had planned, we had lunch in this small village and enjoyed visiting with people around us. There was a couple from Australia who were making their third pilgrimage in the last three years, and they had also coupled it with a European cruise. All told, they would be away from home for four months, so they carried quite a bit of baggage. They stayed in hotels each night and used transport services to send their bags on ahead of them, so they only had to walk. I was adding up the costs of that trip in my mind and wondering what kind of work people did to be able to afford that mode of travel. If you have to ask, I suppose you can't afford it! But they were quite friendly, and spoke a variety of languages themselves. We also visited with a couple of ladies from France, and were complimented on our use of their language. Sharon made a very special friend at that little outdoor coffee shop/restaurant:
We were through walking for this day, so we called a taxi and waited the 15 minutes for it to arrive and transport us on to Los Arcos, where we splurged and checked in to a small hotel with a room for two, complete with its own bathroom. It was new and modern and we had the most wonderful of naps!
Sharon didn't feel much like moving around, so I headed out to snap a few photos, to replenish our cash from an ATM and to find out about bus travel to the next town. We figured a day off from the trail would refresh us!
Los Arcos is a quaint little town of about 1500 people, but it has a large church, really almost a cathedral, still with many active parishioners. We would attend the pilgrim mass that evening that Joyce from Spain had told us about and we looked forward to that. Here are a few pictures I took before the mass:
Sharon was rested enough by the time I got back from my errands that she felt like attending the pilgrim mass at 8 p.m. We were dressed and heading up the street by about 7:30. We stopped by a nearby ATM machine and I inserted my card and typed in my code. It asked for the amount I wanted to withdraw and I punched it in. Imagine my surprise when the screen popped up this message: Unable to complete this transaction. Please contact your bank.
I had a rather sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had gone to some pains to get the money for the trip deposited into my credit union account, received brand-new debit cards, and followed all instructions for making sure they worked overseas. I had talked to both Visa and my credit union and both assured me the card would work. And it HAD worked in Lisbon on Sunday. Wait, what if..... No, don't even think about having your information stolen while you are on foot 500 miles from your airport of return and having only 20 euros left in your pocket. It was the stuff that nightmares are made of!
We went on to the pilgrim mass, and it was an interesting experience. The padre spoke all in Spanish and read from both Isaiah and Matthew. We didn't know when to stand or sit, but we followed the crowd's lead for most of the service and everything went fine. We were rewarded for our attendance by having the lights on the front turned on during the service, and I had to snap a photo:
It was at the end of the service that the priest asked all the pilgrims to come forward for the blessing, but we weren't sure if we wanted to be blessed. But Joyce was sitting a few pews behind us, and she encouraged us saying that we could all use a blessing for the way ahead of us. So we joined the crowd down front.
The padre passed out copies of the blessing he would read, as well as a picture of St. James, and the blessings were available in a number of languages. He distributed copies in Italian, German, Dutch, English, Korean but he didn't have a copy in Japanese for the one Japanese pilgrim. Here's the blessing he gave:
Prayer of the Pilgrims
Lord, you who recalled your servant Abraham out of the town Ur in Chaldea and who watched over him during all his wanderings; you who guided the Jewish people through the desert; we also query to watch your present servants, who for love for your name, make a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
Be for us,
a companion on our journey
the guide on our intersections
the strengthening during fatigue
the fortress in danger
the resource on our itinerary
the shadow in our heat
the light in our darkness
the consolation during dejection
and the power of our intention.
so that we under your guidance, safely and unhurt, may reach the end of our journey and strengthened with gratitude and power, secure and filled with happiness, may join our home.
For Jesus Christ, Our Lord. Amen.
Apostle James, pray for us.
Holy Virgin, pray for us.
Without the last two lines, it would have been a fine prayer, but what could we have expected? We had just left a Catholic Church in northern Spain!
The problem with the bank card had plagued me throughout the service, and after it was over I had decided I would try another card at another bank. But where to find one? The Portuguese have a fine expression: "Whoever has a mouth can get to Rome", which translated means, if you don't mind asking, you can find where you need to go.
I approached a group of three little ladies who had been in the service and who appeared to be from Los Arcos. "Perdon, usteds son de aqui?" I asked in my worst Spanish. Certamente, they replied. Would they be able to help me find an ATM machine.
One of the ladies volunteered to take us, but I hated to take her away from her friends and have her walk very far.
"Está llegos," I asked, inquiring if it were far. Nothing is far in this village she told me, and took us to the nearest ATM, one that I hadn't previously tried. I inserted my card and presto! It worked! We weren't going to be homeless, wandering the streets of northern Spain, begging for a crumb of bread or passage to Lisbon so we could catch a flight to America, like in Humphrey Bogart movie. I was glad to have some folding bills in my pocket again. He had indeed been our resource on our itinerary!
By now it was about 8:45 and most people were heading to the restaurants for dinner. We returned to the restaurant at our hotel and enjoyed a delightful pilgrim menu. I had a simple tossed salad for starter, beefsteak and fries for the meal and ice cream for dessert. As previously, I forgot to take a picture of my ice cream in my haste to get it eaten. But for those of you who think it odd of me to take so many pictures of food, here are another couple of photos:
After dinner we had only to climb a flight of stairs to get to our comforable private room. Looking out the window two things caught my eye. One was comforting, the other a bit troubling. The comforting thing? The view of the sunset on the clouds behind the cathedral:
The troubling thing I noticed? A large bird was perched in the tree just to the left and below our window a short distance. Was it a stork, like we had seen perched in the top of nearly every church steeple? Was it perhaps an owl? We looked again and this time the bird moved its heading, giving us a clear opportunity to identify it. It was a rooster.....
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