Camino De Santiago: Day 21-Rabanal del Camino to El Acebo

I got to talking to people at breakfast and ended up being one of the very last people to leave the hostel. The volunteers in charge were trying very hard to get us all out of there by 8 am so I finished my jam and toast (the typical Camino breakfast) and headed out the door. We were all a bit apprehensive of the day because it included climbing up to the Cruz de Ferro--in 15 kilometers you ascend 500 meters. We started the climb the day before, but on day 21 I reached the highest point on the entire Camino. 

The day started out with a beautiful sunrise. As I stopped to take this picture another young pilgrim caught up with me. 

My new pilgrim buddy Victoria--half German, half British--swinging on the swing right off the side of the trail. Victoria had a much tighter schedule than I did and had to cover a lot more ground in the next few days than I was planning to. When we started walking that morning we had no idea we would end up walking together for the good part of the week. We climbed our way up the mountain laughing as we realized we had met some of the same "characters" along the way. All I had to say was that I met an "extreme sports journalist" for her to launch into a laugh. I then understood why she had walked some 40 km + days to get away from people! 

We made it to the Cruz de Ferro! And no, this is not just a big pile of rocks. Well, on one hand it is a giant pile of rocks, but they are not just rocks. Traditionally (or so I was informed--it was yet another one of those things I was clueless about), pilgrims would carry rocks from their home all the way here. Depending on who you listen to they represented their sins (and therefore were sometimes large stones!) or represented something that the pilgrims wished to leave behind. 

Like I said...I got this info too late to bring a rock from Texas, but I did pick one up that morning in Rabanal. I took the time to think about it and give it some meaning, so I figure that counts. 

We met Denise, the lovely Tasmanian, as we arrived at the Cruz and she told us to just go up and have a look around--that whether we had stones or not, taking in all the stones and mementos honored those who had left them before us. 

The variety of stones and objects, along with the different languages, made it fascinating. 

I also spotted my friend Juanma's rock, which was fun. 

Like a good pilgrim he brought his rock all the way from his home in Seville. 

I took my stone in my hand, shoved it into a crevice in the Cruz, and left some weight behind. 

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the Cruz, a couple of new pilgrims arrived. A Belgian lady was waving at us in all kinds of crazy sign language. I thought she wanted Victoria and me to get in front of the Cruz to pose for a picture. That was until she asked if we lived up there?! and it became apparent that she in fact wanted us to hide behind the pole so we wouldn't be in her picture. 

Which I of course thought was hilarious. 

So Victoria took a picture. : )

A shot of me in front of the Cruz. It's crazy to think that this giant mound was built by tiny stones carried by pilgrims. And actually, I mean that literally--I heard (and believed) that the city brought most of the large stones. 

From here on into Galicia the landscapes started to take on an incredibly beautiful quality.  

We stopped in at the "hostel" in Manjarin to take in some of the craziness. There's no electricity or running water at this albergue (only a porta-potty!) and it is run by a Knight Templar. He has this bell he rings and the whole place is full of Knights Templar paraphernalia.  

At this point of the Camino we were getting into the thick of "Knights Templar Country." Unfortunately I had no idea that Knights Templar was code for nut job. The gist of the place is that this particular guy, the founder of the hostel, went on a pilgrimage of sorts to the Knights Templar castle in Ponferrada where he had a vision directing him to come start a pilgrim hostel here. He hasn't been home since. 

The crazy Belgian lady who yelled a us to get behind the Cruz de Ferro also stopped us along the path to make sure we a) didn't step on the caterpillars and to b) looked at the baby cows. 

The landscape reminded me a lot of Scotland, especially with the purple, heather-like flowers. I later realized that everything was looking extra-purple to me because my cheap sunglasses were slightly pink tinted (yes, I really was looking at the world through rose tinted glasses). 

Ah, it was beautiful. So beautiful that I felt the need to say so every 5 minutes. I have no idea how Victoria walked with me for so many days! : )

Bag mas! We found Karl and Linda (the Bavarian couple from the day before) relaxing on the side of the mountain. They had started walking the Via de la Plata (the Camino which begins in Seville and makes it's way northward toward Santiago), but found it lacking the special something that the Camino Frances had. So they switched! I was glad they did. 

I mean, come on! Doesn't it make you want to say, it's so beautiful!, every five minutes too?

Victoria taking a break to watch...

...the horses passing! Now, horseback (along with bicycle ridding) is a recognized way to do the Camino. Obviously back in the day doing the Camino on horseback was a lot more typical, but now, there are still some people who do at least stretches of the Camino on horseback. It was pretty obvious as this group (maybe 15 people or so?) came through that they were just doing it as a kind of packaged tourism. It was fun to watch them go by...but we definitely grumbled about it. Domingueros! 

The reason we were grumbly was that the way down into town was STEEP and rocky. After climbing all day, and on tired legs, getting into town was a bit treacherous. 

And then our hostel. Oh, our hostel. There were a couple of hostels to choose from in town, so we picked the one with a kitchen and internet. When we were registering the hospitalero (volunteer running the hostel) started asking a ton of questions and making jokes. I really just wanted to dump off my stuff and get to a restaurant before they shut down the kitchens for the siesta. I was translating for Victoria and he kept making lots of stupid puns about her name. He then had to point out pictures of himself on the wall wearing full on Knights Templar gear. Dude, we don't care. Two giant Templar stamps in our pilgrim passports later we were finally freed to go on our way. Of course not before Miguel gave us his push to hand over our voluntary donations. I didn't have change so I told him I'd get change at lunch and donate in the morning. He tried to guilt us, but I wasn't biting--I had a standard donation I left, but if a hostel was better or worse I would adjust my donation: i.e.. no hot water = less, free breakfast = more. I liked to leave my donation in the morning. Miguel, clearly enjoying being the king of his personal Templar kingdom, was not happy, but I didn't really care. I'd give him money. 

Anyway, finally I had lunch at one of the bars in town, but because Victoria was recovering from being sick she just accompanied me without eating (it helped that they were showing clips from the royal wedding on the TV!). We stopped and picked up some expensive groceries (there was only a tiny shop in town), me a couple of eggs for dinner, and some plain spaghetti noodles for Victoria for lunch. When we got back to the albergue she started to cook. Things were in random places so she had me ask Miguel, the hospitalero, for a pan to boil the water in. 

Well. Miguel was not happy about that. Apparently when Miguel was working the hostel the kitchen was only to be used to cook a communal supper. Um, communal supper? You never mentioned that Miguel. You could also tell from the signs posted in the kitchen (clean up after yourselves, don't leave unused food in the fridge, etc.) that the kitchen was clearly for pilgrim use. At least normally. 

I tried to explain that Victoria just wanted to cook some plain noodles, that she still wasn't feeling well. Finally, after making a huge scene, he gave her a pan. All she had to do was ask. Yeah, ok, whatever Miguel. 

Then another couple of pilgrims wanted to cook something. And I got stuck trying to convey that to him. Then a rude French couple got thrown into the mix. Before I knew I was having to explain to him that no, none of us were going to be eating his communal supper, and again, before I knew it, Miguel was all up in my face giving me a mouthful. Hey Miguel, I'm just the messenger here! Well this was Spain after all, so when he started wagging his finger in my face I decided to be confrontational right back. Until I finally decided, I'M LEAVING! His response was basically: There's the door--you didn't even give a donation anyway!

I climbed the stairs to get my bag, shaking I was so angry, ready to just head to the other hostel in town.  My pilgrim friends talked me into just staying--and I figured maybe that was the best way to not let Ol' Miguel win. I went out, had coffee with my Sevillan friends (who were staying at the other hostel!) who got a kick out of the matter. Everyone told me not to leave a donation--that it would teach him. But I wasn't satisfied with that. I figured leaving a tiny amount was more insulting than leaving nothing at all. And by tiny, I meant that the 2 cent coin I had wasn't small enough. I borrowed a one cent coin off of my good friend Juanma and put it in a safe place for the morning. When I had killed enough time, I went back and went straight to bed. 

It was the most upset I had been in a long time, but in it I learned a valuable lesson--Never trust a Knight Templar. 

Also, this is Miguel's number. I'll dole out friend points in the hundreds to anyone who calls and annoys him. : )

Camino De Santiago: Day 20--Astorga to Rabanal del Camino

Day 20 walking the Camino! Was I an old pro by this point? No, but I definitely felt old. Especially after the 31 kilometer mistake of the day before. Anyway, I woke up on day 20 ready to go!

I left the beautiful little town of Astorga and passed all the buildings I arrived to town too late to see (which I won't lie--I was kind of relieved that I didn't have to muster up the energy to see them!). 

First was the Palácio Episcopal designed by Gaudi

And then there was the Catedral de Santa María de Astorga. It wasn't Leon or Burgos, but it impressed me nonetheless. 

I knew that I must have left the albergue earlier than normal because I ran into my retired Sevillan friends before even leaving Astorga (they generally left so much earlier than me so I normally wouldn't catch them until after lunch). I was content to take the day slow, so we walked together for a while until they wanted to stop for piquislabi, which is a very Andalusian way to say snacks. We sat on the benches built into an old church in a tiny little town and pulled out our goods. Juanma tried to force tocino on me for the hundredth time (no, thank you!) and Maica brought out the extra-extra dark chocolate typical of the region (yes, please!).

Then, as if I needed a reason to like these people even more, Maica got curious and before I could even catch up to what she was saying she had Juanma come over and give her a boost so she could look inside the church. The whole thing was pretty hilarious.

After chatting with a local grandpa and trying to force chocolate on a little girl we were off again. 

 And finally, finally, we were getting out of the Meseta! 

In one of the other lovely moments of the day we happened upon this little guy and his momma. Maica shepherded him off the road, then, worried that they would wonder back into the street, Maica directed Juanma to give the dogs something to eat

And what did these dogs get? Fancy smoked meat is what! Maica ripped off some pieces of it with her teeth and thew it over away from the road. 

(And, she'll probably kill me but I love this picture!)

Such a cute little guy!

We made it to Rabanal in a good 20 kilometers. I had wanted to stay at the Albergue Gaucelmo because it was run by British volunteers from the Confraternity of Saint James. We all decided to stay there, and, let me tell you, it was a great decision. It was one of the coziest hostels of the whole Camino.

Upon arrival we were greeted by an adorably worrying English couple. They truly made you feel like you were staying in their home. (The husband also reminded us of Collin Firth--he spoke exactly the same way.) The place was spotless, and, even better, they were very serious about keeping out bedbugs. To top it off, they gave all of us a set of paper sheets. They might remind you of a doctor's office, but to us they felt like Egyptian cotton.

We dropped off our bags and went for a Spanish lunch. The small towns had the very best menus and we ate very well in Rabanal. So good in fact that after our flan Maica was talked into dancing to the Galician music playing. A Bavarian couple in the corner got in on the action as well.

We got back, did laundry, and had a look around the hostel grounds.

Wood pile for the wood-burning stove that heated the place

And the nice, manicured lawn (would you expect anything less from a British hostel?). Several of us were out relaxing in the sun when we got a call for...(wait for it)...

Tea time!

Ah, it was delicious! They had English Breakfast and Earl Grey brewed up for us, with biscuits (cookies) and everything. We were all English speakers (except for my Spanish friends I dragged along! ...but Spaniards don't do tea time) so it was a nice break from wracking my brain to halfway understand Spanish or French or Italian, etc. like normal. 

I also met some fantastic pilgrims. The Bavarian couple from lunch, Karl and Linda, were there and sitting next to me around the table was Denise, a Tazmanian walking the Camino with her husband Mark. Her expressions as she told stories were hilarious. Happily, I would keep running into these pilgrims for the rest of my Camino.

Another reason I wanted to stay in Rabanal was the monks. My guidebook said, 

The building beside Albergue Gaucelmo is inhabited by Bavarian Benedictine monks who established a monastery here in 2001. Following a series of disagreements with the local people, they were run out of town in August 2009 however they have now returned. The monks come from the St Ottilien Abbey in Bavaria, which has also been in the news recently... On some evenings there are Vespers with Gregorian chant in the evening in the small church opposite Albergue Gaucelmo.

Sounds intriguing, no? So of course we made it to the tiny chapel to hear these Gregorian chants. I had a lovely experience with nuns in Leon (I forgot to mention that in the Leon post, didn't I?) so I wanted to make it to this.

The little service was mostly in English, with a little German. As I attempted to translate into Spanish for my friends they threw out some Castellano. Some fellow pilgrims got to read a few Bible passages and there was a small sermon-type charge. But do you know what I remember most? The singing of course. Because...

It was bad. I mean...I was really tired and all, but I was having to stifle my giggles. (Real mature, Lauren. I know.) There were only a handful of monks, and God bless them, they were not musically gifted.

We had the opportunity to go back for another short service that evening...but we passed. 

Instead I had a bowl of lentils, had a long chat with a young German (Austrian?) pilgrim at the dinner table, and then watched the sun go down. 

A beautiful day from start to finish. 

Austin, Etc.

Well, I am not doing well at my attempts to be productive today. I'm sorting through boxes to get ready to move and I keep running into files full of memories. I've been cringing (oh middle school), laughing (my freshman year in the dorms was possibly the funniest year of my life), and just generally being thankful for all the wonderful people and countless memorable experiences I have had over the years.

Speaking of memorable experiences, while I'm not being productive I thought I'd share some of what I've been up to--namely my trip down to central Texas!

I went down to Austin last weekend A) to see my brother Casey, B) to hear Buena Vista Social Club, and C) to get out of town!

I had a fantastic time. I toured a friend's coffee roasting facility, ate meal after meal of good food, heard five live bands/artists, made my best flan yet for the boys, sweated it out at Batfest (without seeing the bats...which was ok by me!), had brunch with an old friend and then poked around in small towns on my way back home.

I was too busy in Austin to take many pictures, but here's a few from the weekend: (you'll also notice from a few of the pictures that I was finally forced to break down and upgrade my 1998 version phone for an iphone!)

Touring Kohana Coffee's roasting facilities and getting the inside scoop on the entire process from the impossibly friendly owner!

Coffee beans from all over the world! She even had beans from Boquete, Panama! Piper was also kind enough to let me take some of the empty coffee bags with me--I ruffled through and found some good looking ones to go on my new walls. 

(I of course chose one from Boquete!)

I mentioned to one of Casey's roommates that I was on a flan making kick...and then of course I had to make it. I ran to the store and threw one together--surprisingly I think it was my best flan yet!

Buena Vista Social Club put on an amazing show! And let me tell you, 80 year old Omara Portuondo was the life of the party! Grandma can still get down!

On the way home I decided to humor my curiosity and poke around in some of the small towns I passed through on my way back to Fort Worth. When I saw the signs for Lorena, Texas I had to stop.

(I peaked into the windows of this old building to find a bank counter that looked straight out of It's A Wonderful Life!)

Then I made a stop in Waco for gas and drove around a bit: 

A shot from the Dr. Pepper museum!

Then, it was time for the best part of the drive: West, Texas! (Emphasis on the comma!) I stopped quickly in West on the way down to grab a kolache for Casey and me, but I did not hit the right bakery. This time I got it right, and, with time to be nosey, found some great old buildings and colorful locals. 

West was settled by Czech immigrants and still has a lot of Czech flavor...specifically in their bakeries! 

Yum!

You can also pick up some pickled pigs feet if that's more your style

My treasures--apricot and cream cheese kolaches, with cherry and cream cheese kolaches underneath them. I brought enough home to share with my family...but when Brian wasn't home, curiosity got the best of me and I ate his too! : )

Then I had a look around town: 

(An old theatre!)

Overall, a fantastic Texas weekend!