Day 11:October 1

A language we all understand

Cirueña to Grañon

October now! Time passes or that’s the way it is perceived by the law-abiding people on this planet. As long as the Earth continues to spin on its axis the days will continue to pass by, that’s for sure. But out here on the Camino these days lose their identity. It no longer matters if it’s a Monday or if it’s a Thursday or a Saturday. Yet many of us have become conditioned to clock watching and time keeping. For instance at this stage of the Camino I still had my wristwatch. In a forthcoming blog I describe an incident that can be interpreted as a lesson the Camino teaches us, in its own inimical way, about time. So please keep reading.

I slept reasonably well as there had only been six of us in that dormitory, five being ladies younger than I, and rumour has it that older men are the ones most likely to snore in such a grouping. I just hope I didn’t, I shall never know. More importantly all the signs of another warm and sunny day were apparent over the eastern horizon.

Two of the five ladies had already made a very early start. I was in no rush whatsoever, only having around 8 miles of walking planned for this particular day. By 08:30 there remained just three of us, the two French ladies who seemed to be doing the Camino together and myself. To prove that the noble quality of chivalry hadn’t disappeared overnight I once again allowed them to do all their bathroomy stuff first. By the time that I got in there they had finished packing and disappeared downstairs never to be seen again…..or so I thought. As I emerged from the bathroom one of the two ladies came back upstairs into the dormitory and began to check the items that had been left on the bed that she had slept in, then under the pillow, then under the mattress and then under the bed itself! I continued slowly and quietly packing my own remaining items into my mochila. The lady went back downstairs only to reappear about three minutes later with her companion!! who proceeded to check in a similar manner all around the bed that she’d been sleeping in, then they checked the bathroom!!! So it was fairly obvious that something of value had gone missing. As much as I wanted to help by enquiring what they were looking for, I didn’t have the confidence to engage in a conversation in French. It was then that I began to realise with horror that by now the only possible solution from their perspective to the mystery of the whereabouts of the lost item, is that I must have stolen it, whatever it was. Oh My God, I just felt it so so strongly. The bed I slept in was the closest one to the one she’d been in, I was the only male in that dorm….and let’s face it, one glance at the history books will show that England and France haven’t been exactly the best of friends down the centuries. So I just had to be THE suspect, didn’t I? There was no point now in attempting to tell them that I’d never hurt a fly in my life, and that it would never have crossed my mind to think about stealing anyone else’s property let alone actually do it….in a language that I last studied 50 years ago whilst still at school. Yet I could literally feel their angst, their stress at having lost this item and felt really sorry for them, all at the same time that I knew I must have become an object of great suspicion for them. And so at this stage I began to pray that for all of our collective sakes that this lost item would turn up safely. With some degree of trepidation I went downstairs to collect the walking shoes, trying to imagine what could happen if this item that had disappeared remained undiscovered. Would they accost me or follow me along the start of today’s walk?as I felt sure they would have considered me as prime suspect responsible and in that frantic and panicky state of mind people can be driven into doing things that they otherwise wouldn’t. As I got to the bottom of the staircase I noticed how sunny it was out at the front, but also the two French ladies were out on the steps at the front of the albergue….removing items from the mochilas that they had both been packing less than fifteen minutes before, up in the dorm. More urgently than ever my thoughts were ‘please please please’ let them find whatever it is they have lost or misplaced as I had the walking shoes on and was just seconds away from departing. Something must have heard me because just as I set foot upon the outside steps the lady whose item had gone missing found it…nicely buried half way down the mochila!!!. What happened next was so instinctive and so spontaneous…we just hugged each other. For me the hug was my way of silently saying ‘I’m so so pleased for you and I forgive you from the bottom of my heart if you assumed I had stolen it’. I literally felt that the French lady was silently saying ‘I’m so so happy to have found that missing item. I’m sorry that I suspected you’. We had been divided by the language barrier. The hug brought us back together as human beings. The hug is a ‘language’ we all understand, a ‘language’ that has no need for words.

After this remarkable moment it was time to move on and head westward. Another wonderful sunny day. Was it always like this hereabouts on the Camino in October? So far there had been just one morning of serious rain. How long was all this going to last? The route of the Camino leaves Ciruena and proceeds almost north westwards flanked on both sides by vast fields. Men mightier than I could doubtlessly inform the reader with an account of the types of crop that are grown in this section of the route. Maybe they could also explain what had happened to the vineyards all of a sudden. But that is beyond me, my task is merely to reflect my experiences, my thoughts and emotions, as honestly as possible, as I passed through this land, for the first time in my lifetime.

The picture shows the typical scene that I passed through in that early morning. The archetypal Camino stretching away over rolling hills. An early morning pale blue sky framed the natural earthy browns and greens of the fields. It was also free of anyone else. So incredibly exquisite. Don’t get me wrong, I love being with people. The people that I met on this Camino are THE main reason why my Camino out to Finistera was very much more than just a rather nice forty day walk of around 540 miles through the countryside of Northern Spain. But from time to time it’s therapy for the soul to be alone in such a place as this. The time was 08:30. No aches or pains bodywise. Things were going really well at this stage of the day, as they had done ever since leaving SJPdP eleven days ago.

It was a nice touch that a dedicated space had been set aside for a rest area. It wasn’t the most spectacular spot in the world but it was very nice nonetheless. To rest and to contemplate… or whatever else floats your boat when you stop. The morning’s route was quite straightforward, the perfect tonic after the grind of yesterday that had led to the muscle cramp.

So on past the signpost bearing the name of the next town along the route…Santo Domingo de la Calzada…what a wonderful name.. it just rolls off the tongue..a name that, for me, epitomises the Camino. How could somewhere with a name like that be anywhere else? The Camino follows the ‘main road’ road briefly before heading off thankfully into the quieter and more interesting parts of the town, where the main route heads directly for the cathedral. Santo Domingo is a fairly large town by Camino standards and it provides a useful opportunity to stock up on general items that may be in short supply as well as offering plenty of refreshment options.

*Zumo de naranja – Time to stop I think!*

So yes the images above give some idea of what is close by the Camino as it enters Santo Domingo. On the edge of town I noticed on my left a kind of car park on waste ground and several shops/stores. Very useful – the Camino does indeed provide. After this little shopping spree I proceeded into town via the ‘old quarter’ which was distinctively more attractive than what I had just walked through. I was still looking to purchase another pair of decent walking socks as one essential chore to attend to – in order to replace what had gone missing from the drying line in Ventosa a couple of days ago

. The Camino passes through a very attractive plaza which contains the ‘Ayuntamiento’ and heads obviously towards the prominent cathedral. It was also evident that the year 2019 was the 1000th anniversary of the birth of St Dominic after whom the town is named. He devoted much of his life to the construction of roads and bridges and generally improving the means of communication around the town that bears his name and explains the title of La Calzada. The shopping centre is to the south of the cathedral and was quite a bustling place. I had a very enjoyable stop for a sort of brunch and cafe con leche. There was an excellent hiking/outdoor equipment store and getting some new socks was absolutely no problem …. speaking Spanish worked very very well on this occasion.

*As always the old streets were so wonderfully intriguing*.

I returned briefly to the cathedral to check the WhatsApp messages. It’s a good job that I did because my Brit colleague Dan had recently messaged me asking where I was. I was quite frankly astonished to discover that he was just entering Santo Domingo so I told him to head directly for the cathedral as its spire was an excellent visual target to aim at.

Less than ten minutes later I spotted him heading doggedly towards me, even at some considerable distance he was recognisable via his ‘gait’ (i.e. walking action). Strange isn’t it which aspects and features of another person stay with us…buried somewhere in our memory banks. I always find names embarrassingly difficult to remember and yet I would recognise their faces if I encountered them in the future. It was brilliant to be reunited with my compañero once again. I really thought that the combined effects of that hugely heavy mochila and the state of his blistered feet in Navarrete would have slowed him down. I can personally testify to how physically demanding it is to carry a very heavy bag up and down hills. See this link. Added to that was the state of Dan’s feet that I had last seen in Navarrete. Unless he had very recently come upon a miracle cure for the blisters they too would have been causing him some quite considerable grief. To have battled onward in spite of these two serious handicaps was testament to the strength of his character and determination. We both headed off for a cafe where I had spotted chocolate con churros on the menu. So we both sat down and rested, imbibed the chocolate and ate our churros and had a catch up on what we had been doing since Navarrete, before discussing my plan for staying in the ‘famous’ Grañon albergue that evening. The fact that it was only around four miles away meant there was no resistance to this idea from Dan and it was another of those very sunny and so quite hot afternoons, that he had no particular liking for. There was going to be no place for rushing around this afternoon. I’ve done enough of that in my life.

*Sitting down, in the shade, churros and chocolate consumed =Bliss*
*That expression says it all*
*The Camino provides!*

So we set off once again into the countryside of La Rioja. The Camino is accompanied for much of this stage by the fairly busy N-120 road, which we may perceive as an unwelcome intruder but it is a reminder that life goes on in the rest of Spain. Other than the road, the Camino is flanked by vast open fields. The sun shone strongly and brightly down from a clear and very blue sky. It made a change to be once again walking with my colleague Dan. I quietly admired (if that’s the appropriate word) his determination to press onward in spite of what I knew to be the tremendous physical obstacles of an extremely heavy mochila and both feet quite badly blistered recently. What is it that drives us on in the face of such adversity? But it was at this stage that I really did begin to notice his habit of texting/messaging then receiving a reply less than a minute later, then responding to that and so on. All of which meant he was behind me most of the time… sometimes well behind me. I was aware he was communicating with one/several young ladies who were evidently further ahead along the Camino. Who am I to criticise such natural and instinctive behaviour? especially when you read what happened to me much later on in the Camino!!! It wasn’t far to Grañon. It’s another little jewel that you encounter as you pass along this wondrous way.

For many peregrinos the object of greatest interest has to be the donativa albergue that is housed inside the church of San Juan la Bautista (St John the Baptist). I certainly had it listed as an albergue not to be missed! It was quite easy to locate it.

Basically the ‘public’ entrance is around the side of the building with respect to the side of the church that fronts the Camino itself. We were also quite early as I had imagined that it could be a very popular choice for fellow peregrinos. As we found out on ascending its stone staircase, this albergue has plenty of character. During our stay the hospitaleros do quickly summarise the history of the church and its use as a hospedal for peregrinos goes right back to the sixteenth century, if I heard correctly. The entrance was already open when we arrived. There’s a repository for shoes and walking poles halfway up the stairs by the window that looks to the outside. A little way further up the stairs is the entrance to the ‘main’ accommodation room…the one where you sleep on the floor upon those thin mattresses. No pillows though – take note! At the top of the stairs there’s a passageway where you turn right and sort of check yourself in. Then there’s a large communal space where the communal meal is held later in the evening. From there a wooden staircase leads up to a second accommodation area.

*Welcome to the ‘famous’ Grañon albergue*

So yes straight away there was a distinctly different feel to this place. It is the ONLY albergue on the Camino Frances that doesn’t have its own sello (stamp). We were informed of the events planned for later, i.e. assist in the preparation of the communal meal at 18:00, mass at 19:00, gather for meal at 20:00, followed by a special session for peregrinos to ‘come together’ at around 21:00 in the candle lit crypt. So with a reasonable idea of the evening’s happenings we both turned our attention to the afternoon’s less glamorous necessity of washing (a) ourselves, then (b) the walking gear. I’d be dishonest if I said that the inside of my mochila smelled wonderfully freshly fragrant. Distinctly not, I’m afraid to say…..instead there emanated from therein a sort of lived-in aroma which wasn’t nice but I’ve smelled worse!!! Moving on!!!…

Normally I would take a shower before washing any clothes. But I thought that we’d been told that there was only ONE!!! shower in the entire albergue. Obviously freshening up and smelling (reasonably) nice weren’t high up on the list of priorities for peregrinos back in the 15th/16th centuries. I did rather optimistically check what I thought was THE (one and only) shower room to find it was (a) already in use and (b) several ladies already waiting!!!respectfully dressed, sort of !! So just to prove that the noble quality of chivalry so evidently manifest in this morning’s albergue had not yet deserted me I thought better of it and decided to wash the clothes first to give the ladies a chance to use the shower. Ladies first, in my book. I did the washing but then realised that there seemed to be absolutely nowhere around the albergue to hang it to dry. It’s quite aesthetically pristine at the ‘back’ of the iglesia that houses the albergue. No way would any local authority permit such a visually picturesque amenity to besmirched by rows of half-washed and sopping wet ‘smalls’ being draped in front of it. Nooooo Way At All, José. Instead I found out that the communal drying lines were a couple of minutes walk away, on the other side of the main Camino route, located in what looked like a patch of rough waste ground. Different, I suppose. There was already a fair amount of stuff already pegged on the line and there was quite a good breeze at that time. I crossed my fingers and prayed that my stuff would still be there when I returned. ‘I’m staying in the right place to pray for it’ is what I thought to myself. Upon return to the albergue the shower appeared to be vacant, so I didn’t hang around in taking advantage of the fact. The shower was as refreshingly wonderful as ever. But as I exited it I noticed another lady waiting outside, discretely robed luckily. To cut another long story on this topic short I was to find out later that the truth of the matter was that there was one shower for the ladies BUT BUT BUT one other shower only for the men!!!. So it dawned on me once again that I had unwittingly encroached upon the ladies’ area as I had almost done back in Cizur Menor days before…..but I seem, luckily to have got away with it and avoided any major embarrassment. Oh Well, moral of the story for the men that may read this diatribe:- please please please try and make sure you’re entering into the right ‘bit’ before venturing forth with towel and shower gel.

*The facade of San Bautista that most pelegrinos would be familiar with on their way in and out.*

In the meantime Dan had gone off to find somewhere to have a drink and texted me that he had found a place close to the albergue, quite usefully. So I eventually joined him. I discovered that he was sitting with Ken, the ex Lt Colonel and Vietnam vet from Texas who I’d met in Ventosa two days before. As friendly as ever and shaking his hand, I also discovered that Ken had a vice-like grip despite being 77 years of age. Before too long several fellow peregrinos had congregated as best we could around a communal collection of tables. Once again Ken couldn’t resist asking whether anyone had seen his collection of shots from the ‘Burning Man – Nevada Desert’ event. Knowing he really really relished his reminiscences of this event I said ‘No’ and so for the second time I had the pleasure of viewing the many images of it, this time with Dan looking on.This in itself would have been a pleasant memory but what I will forever remember whilst we were all gathered around is what Ken said in no uncertain terms about his country’s role in World affairs – uttered not once but twice. It’s not my place to repeat here exactly what Ken said, suffice it to say that it betrayed the fact that the Ken that came back from Vietnam wasn’t the same Ken that went out to it.

Dan and I meandered our way back to the albergue and rested ….

Just before 18:00 we went upstairs to help out with the preparation for the meal. There were plenty of willing hands and enough organisational nouse to set up two long tables to be ready for peregrinos to sit at for the communal meal. This was spaghetti bolognese, lots of mixed salad, and of course no shortage of bread and wine. Then cameth the hour for Mass at 19:00. It was a fascinating experience to stand there in the company of other fellow pilgrims in this venerably sacred place that had stood for over five centuries. I wondered how similar tonight’s Mass was to the very first one to be held within these four walls. Was the ambient temperature on that occasion around 13-14C?(55-57F) as it was this evening. I wondered to what extent attendance at the Mass made us any more worthy of praise than those peregrinos that had chosen not to attend. One thing wasn’t in any doubt by the end of Mass – the enormity of my appetite! It had taken on epic proportions by the time all of us sat down for the meal at 20:00. Firstly we all had to chant the following ‘rap’….

So ensued another of those communal peregrino meals.The simple act of sharing is a key feature of the Camino experience as I suppose it is for any genuine pilgrim experience.

After the meal came the communal clearup. Then as best as I’m able to recollect, those that wanted to do so gathered in the crypt just before 21:00. I believe the idea is to grant the opportunity for those duly gathered to tell others why they are walking the Camino and their experience of it so far. Fascinating stuff eh? The location was very atmospheric and very calming, candles-a-plenty, the seating arranged so that we were all more or less facing each other. We took it in turn to say our ‘bit’. Full marks to those to whom English wasn’t a first language. The whole thing ended with a bit of a communal hug, if you can imagine it. What a very apt way to end the day’s affairs, a day that began with the wonderfully instinctive hugging of the French lady. It made the caption for this Day 11 (a language we all understand) such an obvious and highly appropriate choice.

Thoughts for the day

I believe I’ve sufficiently praised already the merits of the good old-fashioned hug. Suffice it to say that I was so pleased that the French lady found whatever it was that she thought had gone AWOL earlier in the day.

2. The biggest and most pleasant surprise today was meeting up with Dan again. I really had given up on any hope of seeing him again after seeing the state his feet had been in back in Navarette. I’m honestly glad that I was proved wrong. What do I know of someone else’s inner resilience? You have to admire greatly the power of whatever it is that’s inside of each of us that sets foot upon this Camino, the power to overcome the barriers, whatever they may be, that we find blocking our path en route to our destination, our goal.

3. Before setting out upon the Camino I pledged that I would never ask any fellow pilgrim why they were walking it. With the benefit of hindsight it proved to be a pledge that I did not break. If anyone voluntarily told me why they were walking then that would be sufficient for me. If not, and curiosity be damned, then it would remain unknown. So the pilgrim ‘get together’ that was held in the crypt this evening was quite fascinating as I did get to hear the reasons why the others that were gathered had set forth upon this journey. I was more than happy, if asked, to tell others what had drawn me to the Camino, which I did do several times. We all walk this Camino for a reason(s). It’s a very personal thing.

Day 11:October 1

A language we all understand

Cirueña to Grañon

Thoughts for the day

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Comment by Cindy Villanueva

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Day 11:October 1

A language we all understand

Cirueña to Grañon

Thoughts for the day

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1 comment

Comment by Cindy Villanueva

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