Father Paden's Sabbatical Blog

May 1-- my last day.  

May 1st is a holiday in Spain.   Wolfgang is leaving so we part.  He has been a true friend.  After parting, I run into Deniece and Richard and they put me onto a small inexpensive hotel near them.  I ditch the pack.  She also shows me a tourist office that is open and presto I have a map to the train station and the times of the traiins to Coruna.  All seems to be falling into place.  We head up to the Cathedral to get seats for the Noon Mass.  At the Mass it is a joy to spot the new arriving pilgrims and old friends.  I spot Johann the Belgian.  We meet afterwards and the sun is out.   It quickly warms up.  I sit on the upper plaza and drink a beer with him and his girlfriend.  Alex the German is there also so it isa reunion of sorts.   We see a person who is obviously ill tumble down the stairs--we get an ambulance--he looks as if he is in the last stages of AIDS.    I meet them later that evening for dinner outside--cool but lovely --and a great chance to say good-bye.   bed by 11 PM 

Thursday 30 April  

I am awake early but I simply lie in the bed--no pressure to leave.  Once up, I head out to the farmers and fish markets.  Large open air and area with covered buildings lined up next to each other.  The display of food and flowers and bread and fishes is simply amazing.   I hear of a travel agent who can help book me to London so I go and discover that I must take a train to A Coruna--the flight is 126 Euros.   It feels a bit complicated, but I then set out to find an internet cafe to link up with Anna in London.  I fly out on May 2.   I see the Aussie girls and another American approaches me--he is Kurt--an organist who played at a huge Episopal church in Arizona.   In his 14 years they had 7 rectors--which matched my 15 years and 7 organists!!!  He knows Bruce Fowlkes--how small is the world?  He had walked the Camino two years ago and has been testing a vocation ---but has decided against being either monk or priest.  Obvioulsy a perspicacious young man.    I write postcards and pray in the Cathedral. At the Mass they swing the huge thurible of incense!!!  Totally awesome---it soars close to 100 feet high!!  I meet the Australians for supper and we drink Albarino--a delicious white wine that Dr Ralston from Sewanee had recommended .   We laughed and laughed.   I got home late, but still the pilgrims were out in the streets celebrating.  I had spent my first night out in the shack at Roncesvalles with them. The closure is nice.

Wednesday April 29th  

Wow.  I finally experienced the Italian woman everyone had talked about on the way.  Unfortunately for me she was only a few bunks away.  Handsdown she was the noisiest sleeper in all of Spain.  Her legend was confirmed--she was queen of the Roncadores--even ear plugs were of no avail.  Since there was no point attemtpting to sleep, I am out of town by seven am and feeling my way in the dark.   The light begins to filter in through the mist and fog.  Cocks row.  The arrows are hard to follow and the mile markers that used tobe so enouraging do not seem so today.   I finally climb Mont de Gozo where there is a huge pilgrim alburgue.  It is too cloudy to see the city.  By 11 am I am on the outskirts of the city--the pilgrim mass is at noon.  I begin walking through the town and discover it is far larger than I imagined.   I pick up the pace.  It begins to rain.   Finally I arrive at the huge cathedral just as the bell begins to toll for Noon!!   Argh--I am at the wrong door!!   I finally make it into the church and it is packed--I am standing next to a large pillar dripping.   The French see me and make room in one of the pews.  I sit down.   It is a lovely mass and I can see the pilgrims circling behind the altar to hug the statue of Santiago.   The music is wonderful, but there is no swinging of the giant thurible or of the incense.   The line to hug Santiago is huge so I go outside and run into Wolfgang--he has found a double for about 10 euros each so I bunk in with him.    We dump our bags and go to the office to get our Compostellas stamped and validated.   The wait is short and I have my Compostella!!   I meet a talkative American named Michael from Oregon.   After a shower I hit the wet streets to explore.  I return to the Cathedral and get in line to hug St James, one goes up narrow marble steps and then one is behind him.  I put my arms over his shoulders and press my cheek to his.  It is electric---a thousand images of the journey flash into my head.  I am buzzed and thankful to be alive and allowed to be here in this moment.  Later I wind up with a group of Danish celebrating at a tapas bar, like many times no one speaks much English so my joy is largely unspoken but illuminated in the faces.   Eventually Astigna the Swiss aerobic instructor finds us/me!! ---and I pay up and flee to my room and crash   I made it....

Tuesday April 28th  

up and out and into the drizzle.  It is a lovely walk--not as cold today.  I cross a valley out of town and it is a nice view looking back at the top of the ridge.  I am alone today.  Around noon I come across a little cafe and have a limon (kas).   I am walking happily until I am distracted by a black cat that causes me to miss the trail.  I am redirected by a freindly farmer, and I retrace my steps to the Camino.  Surely he was an angel.   Once again towards the end of the day I link up with Wolfgang and Asturga the Swiss aerobics instructor who proceeds to bend our ears non-stop for an hour.  Some people can talk without breathing.   Wolfgang  has taken a year sabbatical from his consulting business--his one criteria for alburgues is that they have free internet.  Most charge you about a euro for 20 minutes --the European guide books are ten times better than the american ones and since I lost mine--I let Wolfgan suggest the evening accomodations.   We arrive early again--we seem to be winging the kilometers.  It isn't much of a town--as Wolfgang says as we enter, "I can see the end of the village from here!"    The pilgrims gather and we drink wine.  Santiago, thank you for your divine care.  Tomorrow, deo volante, is the completion of the pilgrimage--may we find safe lodgings and a way home.  Amen.

Monday 27th April  

More rain.  I breakfast on chocolate and dried apricots.   I hike through farms and forests--it settles into a mist.  The camino is now pretty easily marked and there are kilometer markers nearly every kilometer--for some reason this feels hugely encouraging--I am nearing journeys end--it is day 31.   The farmers all have these little houses on stilts where they dry maize called "ore-ohs"(??)  At noon, I am hiking with Wolfgang again and we come to Melides which is according to the guide book is the place for pulpo/octopus..   I see lots of peregrinos in a restaurant and stop and go in.   We get to watch the pulpo boiled in large steel tubs.  A serving is one tentacle cut with scissors onto a wooden plate--it is dressed with oil and spice and one eats it with toothpicks.  We also are serve boiled potatoes.  Stephen the Cambridge lawyer with the wife who is an Anglican priest joins my table.  The meal is all the wine you can drink and so it flows freely---I can see the anticipation building.    After lunch I lose Wolfgang and the others--one really has to keep one's own pace.  There is more rain.   On my way into Asorza I find a leaflet on the ground advertising an alburgue.  I take this as a sign from heaven and upon reaching Asorza in the pouring rain, I check in.   The place is really new and clean.  I am delighted and rush to take a shower.  I inadvertently shower in the women's shower which elicits  a huge laugh from some of the pilgrims--oops how embarassing--it was poorly marked!!   I feel good to get warm.    I see Raymond and Andre and they help me  work the washing machine.   I realize I have lost my book on the trail--who cares--only two more days on the road and it is well marked.

Sunday April 26th  

Out by 8 AM--again, the overcast sky keeps it dark.  It is seriously frio-cold.  Wolfgang stays behind and I am swinging along--it is hard to believe that the yellow gorse and purple heather are in full bloom in this temperature.   I must be in ridiculous shape---without effort I cover the 27 kilometers to Palais de Rei in 5 1/2 hours...  I arrive at 1:30 PM.  I shower to warm up and nap for an hour.  It is Sunday and everything is closed up tight.  The rain defeats my attempts to wash--everything is wet.  The Spanish are all pumped up because Nadal defeats Federer in Barcelona.  Wolfgang shows up and we link up with a Finnish river pilot--a real salt and go out to eat.  The place open serves us octopus=pulpo!!  better than calimari--much meatier and boiled not fried.  The weather is raw...  Upon return I end up as Doctor--I revive Asturea who is suffering from diarhea with the home remedy of Coca Cola and crackers.  I also unoad my unused Pepto Bismol tablets and immodium.

Saturday  April 25th 

Day 29     I am slow out (8 AM) --must be the overcast and the drizzle.  It is a nice hike in pretty country and the weather gradually clears.    After a few hours I wind up walking with an Austrian Mechanical Engineer named Wolfgang.   We picnic on some rocks--the usual stuff--tinned sardines, bread, olives and cheese.   We stride along and come to Portmarin by 3 PM and cross the river.  Somehow Wolfgang talks the people into letting us into a small overflow room with only a couple of beds--behold a private room!!!    We shower and explore the town, but again the church is never opened--the wind is sharp.  We meet some of the familiar faces, but they are staying is a different alburgues.   We eat overlooking the lake as the sun sets--caldo gallega soup and the first taste of the tarte de santiago--an almond cake.  Very nice. 

Friday April 24 

Up and out.  Lovely dawn and hike to Triacastel    I meet Odette and Marie.  I take the route up into the dairy country.  Up high there are great views in every directions.  Lots of cows and sheep, laambs and sheep dogs.  Spanish sheep dogs are huge and of many different breeds.  I meet a robin in the road.  It is a great day to be alive!!!   In Sarria I stop at the Don Alvero alburgue---it is about 3 PM  I have hiked a typical 7 1/2 hours.  It is a nice alburgue--not too big and only about 16 in the room.  Showers are good and they have a washing machine and dryer (secadora!!)   I go to the supermercado and come back with cheese olives and bread and join other pilgrims for a meal.   In the evening the hosteler makes us a great fire and sets several bottles of his home brews on the tables---these are liqueurs made from plants.  Flamable.   He passes down a guitar and it goes around the room.  Maybe it was the booze, but it was uncannily funny as others joined and were given the guitar and asked to play a song--they all played Dylan's Knocking on Heaven's Door!!!!   Sue the Aussie woman teaches me an Australian song with motions---"Build me a Home under the Gum Tree".   I can't wait to do this in chapel with the PreSchool and Kindergarten.   I sneak out about midnight and leave them to it......

Thursday  April 23   

The alburgue was nearly deserted and I slept well.  I am full of energy for the big hike up Oceibrero.   I hike out and after a a few clicks run into Gunni.  She points me onto the route.   It is only a few miles later that I realize I am on the wrong road.  That is the trouble with taking other peoples advice--you make other people's mistakes.  This one adds about 12 kilometers to the journey and takes me up a road to the summit rather than on the path through the woods.   I finally arrive and the church is wonderful.  I light candles and pray for everyone.   Gunni arrives by taxi....hmmm    The views are fantastic and I pause to eat and soke up the sun.  Talk with Kay the Brit.   I hike on and discover that Gunni is following me!!! argh!   I hike on to Faria to lose her, but somehow she checks in behind me.  There must be a town with taxis nearby.    Beautiful warm and sunny day--spectacular views of the mountains.   A woman in the tiny village sells me a pancake.   Dinner gets a bit wild--Irishman living in the vilage goes after a couple of British bankers...  gets a bit heated.  The economy is bad everywere and all the news is bad in Spain.   I slip off to bed.  Korean girl above me coughs all night.

Wednesday  Aprill 22   

Take the scenic route through the vneyards all the way to Villafranca.  Sun is out and it warms up eventually.   I discover that I am eaten up with bed bugs.  Itch is worse than pain.  Follow the river up to Vega De Valcarce.  At the Brazilian hostel I meet with Gunni from Denmark.  Thrice married--third husband has HIV from working in Africa!!  Why does she tell me this?  She has strong opinions on the Catholic Church---bunch of mean old men she says....  she is perhaps one of the most tactless persons I have met so far.

Tuesday  April 21 

Up and out to Pontferado--the great Knights Templar fortress.  Alas it is closed.  I have coffee with Steve an English barrister whose wife is an Anglican priest.  I remember him--he sang along to the Gregorian chants with the Benedictines in Rabanal.  An escaped chorister from Cambridge.    In a bizarre turn--the sun comes out and it is warm.   When I stop for lunch I realize I have lost the church camera and all the pictures.  Yuck. Along however come the five Irish and they say they saw someone find the camera ---they describe the guy and sure enough he arrives and restores my camera!!!  gratia deo!!  For some reason the maps are not very accurate and we miscalculate the distances---when we arrive in one town the alburgue is not open.   We decide to take a room in a hostal and I have a room and a shower to myself.  What heaven!!   Nice farewell dinner with the Irish.  Caldo Gallego---potato and cabbage soup.

Monday 20 April. 

I am out before 7 AM.  Dark and glorious and fresh--the moon is a fingernail and Venus the morning star and Jupiter glow like lanterns.   I climb the muddy path and look back on the purple dawn which outlines the church spire and bells with a pink frost.  It is Eden cleansed.  Yellow gorse, purple heather, and dark violet bracken--and a bird sounding a two note complaint like a cuckoo.   The guide books say this is a hard climb but it all seems to float by---I see the Canadian couple in Foncebadon and carry on until suddenly the Cruz de Ferro is in front of me......it is a bit of a let down.  I take the rock--a piece of granite from Iona (couple of pounds or so) which I have carried since Roncesvalles and deposit it on the pile of rocks under the cross.  I can't really feel if my pack is that much lighter after all this time.  The real gift is to be in the mountains on a dry cold day with the snowcovered mountain ranges on either side!!!   What views!!!     Hiking down the other side is harder than hiking up.  I reach Molinaseca with sore feet and knees.  Meet Priscilla an American from Atlanta who knows Sam Pettway--small world.

Sunday 19 April 

Domingo   Bad night.  Woman wakes the house screaming--the rabbits are up at 4 AM!!  I am out early---cold and clear!   It is great to leave the great plain of the Meseta behind.  The mountains, I can't wait.   I make great time and arrive early and have to wait unti the alburgue opens.  I sit out of the wind in the sunshine of Rabanal.   Finally check in and do wash.  In looking around to post a card, I run into the Irish who are in great form.  It is happy hour.  At 7 PM we go to the little crumbling stone chapel and listen to three German Benedictines chant.  Benediction and incense--Tomas the Irish priest stays for confession. 

Saturday  18 April  

Late start--overcast and cold.  Hit Hospital de Orbigo by noon.  Incredile stone brige built by the Romans.   On the way to Astorga the weather goes bad--rains steady.   arrive about 5 PM worn out, wet, chafed--and foot sore.  I get the last place on a top bunk--place is cramped.  Run into a grup of happy Irish with their priest Tomas--they have ben doing the Camino 5 days at a time.  We get a ticket to go and eat the pilgrims menu at the Hotel Gaudi.   When we arrive, there is a wedding party there---after awhile it is obvious we will not be served.  None of us have a wedding garment and we are tossed into the outer darkness

Friday 17 April.  

The early birds are up at 4:30 AM as usual--my attitude is sour.  I head out early and run into the two elerly French women Oette and Marie.  Marie has been ill but she is better.  I make it out of the suburbs, stopping for prayer in an open church la Virgen del Camino (very modern).  Nice solo walk in the country--to Mazariffe--snow covered mountains are closer now.  Find alburgue and am put in room with Barcelonian named Javier.  I go down:

      Me:  Do you have a machina lavadora?   Answer:  Si----tu!   Big laugh.   I wash my cloths and socks and meet Sean the Irishman.  Javier talks me into going to the funeral next door in the church but it is crowded and I slip away.  He later takes me to dinner at Meson Rosie and talks the women into cooking for us--we are the only two!!   I am embarassed but Javier is interesting and good company.   His company makes a chocolate drink called Cola-Cow--like Nestles Quick.

Thursday 16 April  

cold and wet.  There are people out harvesting more snails.   I hike straight in to Leon Cathedral.  It is wonerful and I get the full gothic uplift.  The Cathedral closes for siesta and I hike up to San Isadore --around every door are beggars.  This is true of just about everywhere in Spain.  The church is beautiful.   I stay at the Benedictine Sisters convent--pretty spartan but at least we are separated by sex.  I see lots of the old faces including Anre and Raymond.   7 PM Mass and singing--the 20 sisters voices are ethereal.  The pilgrim blessing is at 9:20 and afterwards the Mother Superior addresses us wit her young assistant translating.  She tells us to be open to Jesus on the way--why else suffer the pain and the cold? she asks.  The translation is from Spanish into English and German--no French--poor Andre and Raymond, what must they think?  we go silently to bed.

Easter Wed.  April 15   

Early up and out.  My bowels are not in a good state---I had received many warnings that the water on the Meseta was not good, but man does not live by wine alone.   It is cold and windy and very damp.    I meet a bad detour--the Camino is closed....hmmm  I debate whether to ignore the signs, but decide that as a tourist I must obey.  It takes me a few miles out of my way to the senda--a path beside a major highway.  Very boring.  I run into Oona (Norway) and her nurse friend Karen (I don't mention my problems!!)    When I finally reach the alburgue, the hospitalero is a man named Wolf--some high powered guy who did the Camino and then dropped out.   His counerpart is helping peregrinos with their blisters.  I show her my blister (I am thinking it is day 19 and I have only one large blister on the side of my left big toe)  I ahve been debating whether to pop it or not.  She quizzes me and says, "Only one blister?  Blister for every sin!!"  I'm thinking I am the portrait of Dorian Grey, but she efficiently takes care of he blister and tapes up my foot.   I see the two very old Fench women I have passed crashed out--one is very illwith stomach issues.    Wolf recommends a place for the pilgrims menu and I end up eating with Raymond and Andre.  The Lentil soup is fantastic.  My French is poor.  I sleep and do not snore.

Easter Tuesday. 

14 April.   Slow start --8 AM  It is raining.   On the road I nearly step on this wondrous snail.  He is a "hoss" and translucent green with big brown shell.   I move him carefully to the side of the path.  I hit Sahagun at noon and am out the other side--still blustery and with showers.   About a mile from the river I come upon two old men and they are harvesting the snails!!!   When I ask to see he show me his plastic bag full of snails.  He presses his finger to his mouth, kisses them and spreads them apart --"Bueno" he shouts!!!  He is so enthusiastic he almost makes we want to eat escargo  (almost).    I slog on through the mud--the clouds blow away.   Calzadilla is in the middle of nowhere.  The alburgue is self serve and no one is there but a wood stove is burning and I warm myself there.   I meet three Frenchmen--Christian, Raymond and Andre.  I catch about very eighth word and make myself understood painfully with my outdated French.  On the Camino, French speak French Spanish speak Spanish, Americans, Aussies, Brits, and Irish speak English.  It is the Germans and Dutch and Scandinavians and Eastern Europeans who speak lots of languages and interpret for all.   We go out to dinner at the only place in town and have a pilgrim menu.

Easter Monday  13 April.  

Cold and clear.  Flat road up on the Meseta and the road is also straight--an old Roman road.  Typical lunch of bread, choizo, cheese and olives.  Drink a shandy--ie lager beer and lemonade mixed.  I slog in the last kilometers with David and we part at Ledigos.  He and Peter have figured out their schedule, butI need to press on if I am to arrive in Santiago in time to spend a few days and then go to England.  David has become a true soul friend--.  I push on several klicks to Teradillos where I meet up with the three Australians  met on the first night in Roncesvalles.  Judy andPam are sisters and Debbi is a pathology nurse from Sydney.  We eat lentil soup.  They are great fun.

Easter.  April 12, 2009. 

The two 30ish Spanish bicyclists jump down from the top bunks above us and one --the really pretty one strips off into her panties and bra.  Her panties are red.  David and I are "distracted".  Since she bunked directly above him, her pack is next to his bunk and she rustles in her bag for clothing--pressing her lovely bottom into his face.  His eyes are rolling.  After she dresses and bounds out, David splutters "Did you see that?"   "Yes," I replied, "That was the Easter Bunny!!"         The sun is up by the time we get out at 8 AM.  The walk is flat and there are distant snow covered mountains on the horizon---we are behind the hordes of people and David makes the time pass talking of music and Ireland.

It is cold and sunny as we hike and when we get to town we are able to get into the Monasterio de Santa Clara.  After the usual ablutions we hike into town and find that there is a mass at 7 PM.  I must confess I do not like the electric candles--one inserts euros and little electric candles light up---just not the same as watching them melt.   Link up with Marcel the omputer programmer and Vicky a young hiker with bad feet and blisters.  The Mass is lovely and well attended.  The priest looks exhausted but has this wnderful baritone voice--they must choose their priests for the quality of their voices....  Have Ester dinner (pilgrim menu) with David and Peter.  His brother is better and he is not as worried.   Peter purchases everyone a brandy (I do not want to drink this but I do)  The brandy crushes my gut---but it has been a glorious Easter and I finally made it to church.

Holy Saturday 

Up early and out--clear and cold at 7 AM.  Lots of people on the trail as we climb up to the Meseta and look back at the sunise over Castrojerez.  The full moon and the Morning Star slowly fade in the dawn.  Birds are singing everywhere.  It s a long and deserted road to Itero de la Vega where I link up with David and have cafe con leche.   We push on to Boadilla and arrive about noon.  The bread is delivered in white vans and since nothing is open we approach the lady in the van to purchase something to eat---she gives us free croissants!!   bread from heaven!!   We sit in the lee of a wall in the sunshine and eat our bread.  It is cold.    The final leg is into Fromista--we cross the canal and enter the town and walk straight to the alburgue.  We both get lower bunks.  After a shower and the laundry we set out to visit St Martin's--a Romanesque wonder of a church with gargoyles and capitals carved.  Meet a Korean guy who is setting his feet on fire--a weird acupuncture thing for blisters....   Supper with David and Peter.  Peter is upset--his brother is in hospital with possible stroke.  There is some talk of the Vigil, but the alburgue closes too early.   No church again!!

Good Friday.  

I wake early to the sounds of rain lashing the roof.  Peter, David and I are out y 7 AM hiking up onto the Meseta--blustery and cold, but it sure cuts down on the Spanish holiday types.  All around us as the sun comes up are larks rising in great swirls to the sky!!  We trudge--the mud ssticks to our boots and this makes the distances seem further.   Wew stop for coffee and to warm up and then sludge onward.  The rain and bitter cold have squelched what Peter refers to as "Folkwandertag"  (a day in Germany where everyone goes outsideto wander about and hike)---which is his dismissive coment on all the Spanish holiday makers.    By the time we reach Castrojerez we are miserabe and cold--the alburgue in the book is closed so we settle for one that is unheated.   After settling and washing chores we are so cold we hunt for the church, but again no services.  We finally find a little taver that is open and have coffee--i fails to warm us up.   David is a devout Catholic and we have been fasting all day  I finally suggest that we drink a whiskey and run back and jump in our sleeping bags.  Since I am a priest, he readily agrees.  The Spanish have no sense about alcohol and we are served huge drinks which we consume.  Warm at last----we rush back to our bunks and fall asleep instantly blocking out the sounds of the Spanish parties that have just gotten into gear.

Maundy Thursday April 9  

O the luxury of a room of one's own.  My own bathroom!!!  wow.  Even as I head out of town with David at 7:30 AM  we are joined with Spanish holiday makers.  Particularly irksome are the motorcycles and bicycles.   Davd tells of Ireland and its history and the time passes.   learn a new word--"shleveene" (sp?)  which is Irish for a shyster or slick dishonest politician or person.   The sun comes out and David and I pick up our pace a little so that we can beat the hordes to the alburgue and get a bunk.   We finish far enough in the lead to get a lower bunk and get early dibs on the showers and laundry.  There is no service unfortuantely --too few priests to cover every village.    The land is changing an getting flatter and more barren--the meseta a plateau is coming up.  I have a communal meal of soup, bread, tinned tuna fish, olives, cheese and bread.   There is no door to the dormitory and the Spanish keep the lights on and party relentlessly til very late.

Wednesday April 8   

Bad night--people coughing all night--little sleep.    Say godbye to Johann the Belian and Alex the German, Janika the Finn and Constantine the Spaniard.  they are pressing on, but I am going to take a day an see the Cathedral.   The Cathedral is truly awesome and inspiring.  I enter a side chapel to pray in front of a famous statue of Jesus on the cross and find him modestly clothed in a purple skirt.  At noon I finally see a packed Mass of worshippers--the priest has a fantasti singing voice.  In the museum is a painting of the Resurrection that strikes me with wonder.  That evening I check into a cheap hotel where I cull my pack of every extraneous article or thing and go tothe post office and send it.  It comes to 2 pounds!!!  That night David the Irishman and I watch the parade of the penitentes---groups of people dressed in robes and pointed hoods--(my only reference is that they look like the KKK!!!) and the parade is ollowed by a wagon carrying a large crucifix and followed by members of the local parishes---they parade down the streets and their rather somber drumming competes with the disco music in the bars --people stand on the sidewalks with their drinks and watch them go by.   The church is simply incomprehnsible to many of these people.   The penitentes are so different and scary to this little southern protestant. 

Tuesday April 7  

get a late start for Burgos.  Join Carlos a mystical Spanish guy.   he keeps telling me that we are hikinginto the West and that is symbolic that we are hiking into our death that something new can be reborn within us.  He suggests that we all hike a mile out of the way to see an ancient dolmen--or prehistoric rock.   So Alex, Johann, Janika and Alex and I all follow him---we trudge through mud for an hour and finally find this lone rock in a field of mud.  My feet are like ten pounds each!!!  what an anticlimax!!    The long hike to Burgos takes me over a hill in the snow where i am surrounded by sheep and these huge Spanish sheep dogs....    At Burgos I check into the new municipal alburgue and then visit the amazing Cathedral.   We eat a group dinner and everyone throws something in.  Constantine the Spaniard brings teh house down as he offers a kilo of cheese he has been carrying for 11 days!!   Weight is a huge issue when one is carrying a pack.  To carry anything other than the absolute minimum is crazy and yet one is always reluctant to throw out food.  Markus a Spaniard with blisters tells of his woes and there are lots of Norwegians--Ooni and ooli (not related).   Many have resorted to taking the bus since they are incapacitated by blisters or strains.   I resolve to take a day in Burgos and see more of the Cathedral.  Also I plan to go to the Correos or Post office and mail back any excessive clothes or wieght I have

Monday April 7

Suny dry and cold.   Snow capped mountains are visible to the north.  Today we hike into the woods and over the mountains to San Juan de Ortega  (ortega means "nettles")   Although it is cold the sun actually brings out the first bugs and I see a snake.   A French banker overtakes me and tells me he is only here for a cuple of days to encourage his friend who is doing a week on teh camino---there are tons of French and Germans.  he tells me of his first time and how he arrived late one night at an alburgue and they were full.   He was all in.  A young Irish man of 30 gave up his bunk and hiked on so he could have his place--"The Camino is love" he tells me.   It really affected him--a hardened banker--on the Camino the acts of kindness have a big impact.  I trudge on past San Juan de Ortega---but the church is fabulous and has a carved stone capital on one of the pillars depicting the Annunciation that on the solstice is illuminated by the light coming perfectly though one of its windows.

Palm Sunday   

Every thing is closed and its cloudy and cold.  I hike in marvelous solitude until noon when i come upon some of the gang in a local square.  No church bells--no services anywhere.  For some reason it is a hard day--I am limping in the last 12 kms.   The sun comes out but it is cold.  At the alburgue, they have a back yard with clothes lines to dry your clothes and a small pool!!   It is unheated and dipping one's feet into the water is like sticcking them into a bucket of ice--numbing and one cannot hold it in the water for more than a few minutes.  I go out for the "Pilgrim Menu"--this is offered by restaurants and consists of 3 courses for a set amount.  This one is 8 euros.  First course  soup.  I have chick pea soup with some Spanish sausage called chorizo cut up in it,  second course  a piece of chicken and a small piece of boiled potato, dessert is a choice of apple, yoghurt or flan.  I try the flan---go home and have an ibuprophen tablet as a nightcap.  Alburgues close at 10 PM lights out

Saturday April 5

Only 21 kms today and I do it in about 5 hours so I have time to do laundry and get it dry!!  I walked with David Clifford and Irish schoolteacher who has just retired--we spoke of the "troubles" in Ireland.   The second part of the day takes an interesting twist as I eat dinner with Johann the Belgian, Janita the Finnish girl, Alex the German, and David the Irishman.   Only David is religious at all and most people on the Camino hike it for fun adventure or other spiritual reasons.  David is doing it as a retirement transition---I haven't found out the others motivation---but Johann gets 4 bottles of Rioja for 5 euros!!

Friday April 4

Wed April 2 

Walk out with fellow American Rodney from LA--he is 37 and an executive with Nestles--an immigrant Assyrian from Iran to the US.  There are not amny americans and not many English speakers so it is pleasant to talk with him.  He has some religoius questions and I am happy to answer the best I can.   There was supposed to be a free wine fountain for pilgrims but I missed it.  Others tell me at the end of the day that they found it, but the fountain ran very slowly.  We are definitely getting in to wine country here with vineyards along the way.  At the  end of the day, Rodney tells me that he must move on on a bus since he has only a few days to do the camino, however he gives me a pair of socks to replace my second pair which was stolen...he has seven pairs!!!    Thank you Lord--I feel restored.

Monday  March 31

In the alburgues all these people get up super early--like 4:30 am!!!   Anyway I surrender at get up at 6 and get moving, I am a little upset that my towel, wind pants and socks have been stolen.  It is frigid but dry.  I climb älto de perdon and am rewarded with great views.  On the way down I see people harvesting white asparagus--very interesting.  The asparagus is growing in these long mounds of fine black soil covered with black plastic.  They peal back teh plastic and the tips of the white asparagus are showing, then they slip in a tool like a wood cutting tool long with a sharp end and prise up the asparagus!!    Later in a small village I find a gatorade!!   I sound like a stupid american, but gatorade is the ticket as I get in shape on this walk.   When I reach the alburgue, I meet David a retired school teacher from Cork Ireland.  Each day has this two part rhythm first the walk then the social time with other pilgrims

Saturday March 28th 

I wake early to the sounds of rain lashing the quarter inch plyboard of my home.  I am the second person out into the dark.  I walk up through the sleet to the road where the sign says 780 km to Santiago....some humor.  I start the walk, down hill and up through the woods and mud and rocks.  The silly poles that I bought as and afterthought are life savers.  It changes to snow.  Some 20 km later, I stagger out into Zubiri and grab the first alburgue I can find.  They have a tiny shower and it helps to warm me.  The room fills quickly with some of the same faces from last night--Peter the German and Mikko the young Finn... I am battling lots of foot cramps and sore muscles so I crash without eating.  I realize that this hike will be a lesson in the present tense--if one thought ahead to 34 more days of this, one would quit.  I am so blessed that all my equipment worked as it should and I was preserved well in the environment.  I help Bob the Canadian charge his phone--he has hurt his knee.  There is also news that one of the hikers has had a heart attack and died--some macho Japanese guy!!!  I am stunned and disorganized, so I turn in.

Friday 27 March

Spanish lesson Numero dos:   Zip down to train on underground, but I am early and through the security no problem.  The train goes straight through to Pamplona no changes (yippee) and get there in three hours by 1:30 PM.  It is 22 degrees celcius-- a warm day!! and sunny.  After another spanish lesson

Thursday March 26  

Spanish Lesson Numero Uno:  After a short meditation on weight and how to protect teh computer, I decide to mail it to Anna in London along with clothes etc.  I search the computer and discover that there is a Mailboxes in North Madrid, but am persuaded to go to the local correo or Post Office--which is hidden in the basement of El Corte Ingles a department store.  Hours later, after many encounters, I find the post office but they will not send the computer.  Next, I ask Tourist Info and they locate the address in NOrth Madrid for the Mailboxes and I venture into the Underground.  I was a little bothered entering the nether world, but after some language education and patience for 1 euro I was able to travel to near my destination, and the blessed people actually used part of their lunch hour to help me.  At this point I go to a bookstore and buy a phrase book and take the underground to the trainstation practicing my language skills for the ticket to Pamplona.  I arrive, wait an hour or so and buy my ticket.  I celebrate with raciones--fried sardines called bocquerillos and beer and retire.

Wednesday 25 March  

Hiked to the Thyssen Museum and spent most of the day there.  This is even better in many ways than the Prado.  They have a section devoted to 19th Century American painting and so I saw at least one painting by all the major Hudson River painters--plus they have an impressive collection of Impressionist, Expressionist etc pictures.  What a lovely museum!!   I also went down to the Reina Sophia and saw Picasso's painting "Guernica".   It is monumental.  Amazing to me how using paint on a flat surface, and artist is able to create the most alluring illusions of depth and meaning.  They also had a protrait of our "founder"--KIng Henry VIII, looking severe and puffed up.  And there was one of Bloody Mary in the Prado.  Those Tudors were a tough bunch.   Tomorrow will herald a great change as I will have to give up the computer for a month as I hike.  It is too bulky and too valuable and I will be sleeping in rather large rooms with lots of people--so my plan is to mail it to England tomorrow.  Also I will indulge in my favorite activity--charades--since I speak so little Spanish and have to act out what I want.  Think of me trying to convey "train ticket to Pamplona".  Yes--a lot of toro; it is harder to "vamoose" (sic) than one thinks.  What a shallow creature I am to know a smattering of half a dozen languages, but not be fluent in another tongue.  Adios.

Tuesday 24 March 

I hiked down early and spent the entire day in the Prado.  It is a museum I have wanted to visit since my days in Dr Mode's Survey of Art Course at Vanderbilt.  You remember--in those days they would put you  in a cave with lots of others and display slide after slide.  Dr Mode would ooze and gush over the paintings and then the exam would be random slides that one must name, give author, history and critique.  There were crazy nights spent in slide identification before exams.   Many of these paintings are in the Prado.  So I was the third person into the museum this morning and had the room of ElGreco to myself for almost 45 minutes.......  Then the Velasquez and Goya and and and....  I lost track of time and stumbled out at 6 PM. One has to do this in two hour bursts with breaks to prevent visual overload.  What an exhiliarating day--The Prado is not as big as the Louvre but it has that kind of breadth. One thing hit me as I looked at all the paintings of the Annunciations---is that in the West we always have the BVM in her study reading a book and praying when Gabriel shows up, whereas the Eastern Annunciations often have Mary carrying water or sitting at a well when Gabe appears...  What an education this is....

Sunday 22 March  

The nesher or shuttle arrived on time at 2:45 AM, I was one of the first on so we wnadered around hill and vale picking up the other passengers.  It was dry and cool and this driver was much more cautious than my first ride in--so at least I wasn't terrified as before.  Eventually we pulled into the airport at about 4 AM.  It is hard to describe but one comes down from the hills into the coastal plain and it is a dramatic drop iin elevation.  Everyone goes into a large room and ones bags are screened right there.  The lady made me wait until 4:25 to join the line (I always carry a book).  I was not chosen to go to the counters where they take you luggage apart and I was most relieved by this as cramming everythin into the back pack (it weighs just at 30 lbs) was intense and the thing was so tighly stuffed I was afraid it would explode and I wouldn't be able to stufff it again.  Then one went through check at Air France and then the hike to the gate where one passed again through security and had ones carryon checked.  Again I was not singled out so I ended up at my gate at about 6 AM.  The flight left at 8 but that gave me time for a coffee transfusion.  Charles de Gaulle was surprisingly easy--I was able to walk from terminal E to terminal F.  Security was not backed up and a surly gaullic officer stamped my passport without a word.  Once I landed in Madrid I sought out the shuttles but was given the suckers price of 45 euros --so i scrounged around and found the bus (1 euro) into the city.  From there I got a taxi for 15 euros to deliver me into the center of the town.  The Hotel Arosa is off the Grande Via and very centrally located--I arrived about 6 PM -still light.   After a rinse off (The room is small on the 6th floor but has a great shower thank you Tami!!) I went out onto the street---very busy lots of people out walking.  I hiked around several blocks and then ate a sandwich--there were lots of beggars and even a poet out selling poems!!  Also up the alleys off the main street there were obviously some "working girls" which surprised me a little.  The temperature was cool but not frigid and life seemed much more normal.  After all the severely modest dress of Palestine it was nice to see fashions from the elegant to trashy once more.  I then went back to the room and fell asleep watching soccer--Barcelona crushed Mallorca 6-0.

Saturday 21 march

Today is my last day in the Holy Land.  I was up early and did wash and read about Emmaus and the debates over its location (there are 4 potential sites). The cleaner and I had a long talk about his life as a Muslim living in the West Bank.  The Israeli's make his life hard since he has to cross the wall in order to come to work.  He told some pretty awful tales.  This is a complex place.   Around noon I took off and hiked in to the Holy Sepulcher and visited Golgotha and lighted candles and said prayers.  Afterward I hiked across the old city and out St Stephen's gate and down the Kidron Valley and up the Mount of Olives to Dominus Flevit.  The view is directly across onto the Temple Mount and has become my favorite place.  I then hiked up to the top of the Mount of Olives but couldn't get into the Church of the Ascension.  The Mount of Olives is higher than jerusalem and at the point I was able to see all the way to Herodian--Herod's palace and probable tomb.  (it is beyond the wall and unreachable)  From there I hiked down the Mount of Olives and across the Kidron Valley and the tombs of the prophets and back to the Christian Quarter.  Its the sabbath so the Jewish Quarter is closed down--the number of soldiers is increased.  I had an early supper at 5 PM--- a Maccabbees beer and a plate of hummus which also included some falafel, two kinds of slaw, stuff made from eggplant called babaganoush and a hot spicy red stuff made with onions that encouraged one to drink the beer.  One eats it by dipping it up with pita bread.    I hiked back to the College and made the 6 PM Evening Prayer.  I watched the news and had a farewell glass of wine from Mount Tabor with Ray and Lois--and retired to pack.  I leave the college at 2:30 AM to make my 8 AM flight.  I will be interested to see if all the horror stories of security at the airport are true--they say allow a minimum of three hours there.  One story is that when the airlines stopped serving Israel during a part of the intifadah--the government of Israel retaliated by giving them landing times that were awkward.   I do not know if that is true--but I landed at 2:30 AM and I will have to get up at 2:30 AM in order to get out.  Others had similar ridiculous times.  One cannot believe everything, however, and I am expecting to be (God Willing) in Spain tomorrow night.   Hard to believe this leg of the journey has come to a close.  Shalom shabbat.   Carter+

Friday 20th March   

Up for the early 7:30 Eucharist and then went back to the college and did laundry and organized my packing.  Began some writing--but mainly just read, paid my bills, wrote a few  cards. After evening prayer at the cathedral, took Lois the chaplain for the course and Ray the assistant for the course to Azahara's for supper.   Lois is a widow and a priest from New Zealand.  She is serving without pay to be the chaplain at St George's College.  She is extremely kind---she is the one who met me on my way in and gave me a cup of tea, and who also allowed me to preach and celebrate on the shores of the sea of Galilee.  Ray is a young 26 year old postulant from the diocese of Missouri--who is here also on an internship.  He is very competent and had the unenviable task of counting all of our group to make sure that all 41 of us were on the bus... He truly is a good sport.  He is a constant reminder to me to pray for Robert and Eric.   The meal began with an appetizer of hummus and pickles, olives, and pickled cauliflower.  The main course was lamb over rice for them, and I had chicken convered in onions and sprinkled with almonds.  We had a glass of Israeli Pinot Noir and dessert was some sort of sweet cake with lots of honey.  The folks over here love baclava (sp) and all sorts of sweet pastries with Turkish coffee.  lots of time they season the coffee with cardoman.  In the morning they serve scrambled eggs etc but they sprinkle them with herbs and hyssop.  Also they serve yoghurt and olives and cheeses for breakfast.... I am hooked on these sesame treats--small blocks of very rich stuff--very filling and if taken with an apple is a total lunch in itself.   Tomorrow night I make the big switch to Spain and the third leg of the journey.  On the BBC news last night it showed that the French were on stirke so I am hoping my Air France flight through Paris will not be affected.     Shalom and Salaam    Carter+

Thursday 19 March

Had breakfast in the Pilgrim Guesthouse at the Cathedral next door at 7:30 AM   I set off to the City of David to do some tourist things---I wanted to walk Hezekiah's water (Warren's)  shaft from the Gihon Springs to the pool of Siloam.  This can be done for 25 sheckels ($6).  Fortunately for me, not many wanted to wade in cold water so I had the place to myself--a big group blocked behind me.  So I descended the stairs and turned on my flashlight and entered the water shaft.  This was featured in a National Geographic.  The water was mostly about calf deep but there were a few places where I wished I had been taller.  It was eery going along and observing all that Hezekiah (2700 BC) had to quarry in order to insure the water supply for jerusalem.  It was about a 20 minute walk and the shaft which was about 5'5" sometimes lowered itself to about 5' and then at other times soared to 10 or 12 feet.   On exiting I hiked down to the end of the city of david and and the Kidron Valley and climbed the valley of Gehenna (New Testament Hell).  I emerged and visited St Andrew's Scottish Presbyterian Church which is perched upon the top end.  The valley is still used as a dump to some extent although no one is allowed to set fires or sacrifice children.  A short walk up from the Presbyterian Church took me into modern west Jerusalem.  It is very Jewish and I must say that some of my steroetypes of New York were comfirmed on its streets.  I hung out around Ben Yehuda street which is a pedestrian way and bought a bottle of Jewish wine from the Golan area.  The Jewish wine industry is booming and they have produced some very reasonable and drinkable wines.  Castel seems to be the most expensive (I haven't had any of that --but I have tasted Gamla, Tishbi etc and it is reasonable.  I trekked home to east jerusalem and stopped again to people watch--this time in a bar at the Jerusalem Hotel outside the Damascus gate.  All the men were smoking giant hookas (tobacco and flavored yuck) and I had a beer and watched them.  A sunny and mild day and altogether very relaxing and easy.   

Monday 16 march

This is the last day of the course--it doesn't seem possible for the time to have flown so quickly.  We drove out to Emmaus (there are 4 possible sites).  We were unable to get into one of the sites Abu Ghosh where there is a Crusader Church, but went on to Kiryat Ye'erim which is also the place that the Ark of the Covenant rested for a few years before being taken up to Jerusalem.  The Sisters of Joseph have a Church here of L'arc d'Alliance which was closed.  It was dry and cold--but the rain had made the orchards of olive and the fields green and the flowers bloom.  We celebrated the Eucharist.  In the afternoon I was able to give a few things to some other pilgrims to take back to the states--they are from Newburgh, NY about 30 minutes south of Bard College, so I can pick my things up when I return home!!!  I realize it is time to get serious about my hike.  The possibility of getting to Mt Sinai is remote given the politics and the problem of crossing borders.  Still the hike is looming and the issue of weight is serious.  That night we had a farewell dinner and various groups put on skits--everyone except the Lutherans.  How typical is that!!! 

Sunday March 15th  

The pilgrim arose early on the first day of the week and went to the tomb where Jesus was buried---in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher or Resurrection, Masses were already begun when he arrived at 6 AM.   He observed a Coptic rite at one end of the structure built over the tomb--and was invited to kiss the silver covered gospel book before the reading of the gospel in an unknown tongue.  He visted the tomb of the Lord and prayed, observed an Ethiopian rite celebration with a huge canvas picture of the Queen of Sheba visiting Solomon, went upstairs to Golgotha and lighted many candles and offered prayer--a Roman Catholic Mass was being celebrated in the chapel next to it.  Down stairs the Greek Orthodox were celebrating and another Mass was offered by the Franciscans who have styled themselves the keepers of the holy places of the Holy Land.  There are 13 denominations that have chapels and masses were being said downstairs as well---it is a curious and large place.  Hordes of pilgrims and tourists began to arrive and the Muslims who keep the keys of the Holy Sepulcher are also ushers or vergers--they wear red fez on their heads and carry tall silver covered staffs with which they bang the pavements underneath and lead all the processions around and through the crowds.  It was all very eastern and mysterious---the rites complex, the languages---the deep baritone of the Orthodox solo chaunt clashing with the gregorian chants of the Franciscans as they processed to their mass.  The different incenses blending.   After a couple of hours the pilgrim left and walked through the cold and pouring rain to the simple unadorned Church of St Andrew outside the old city.  There a Scots Presbyterian minister in preaching tabs delivered a sermon on Lukes 2nd temptation in which he emphasized that the devil was a liar and expounded upon the soveriengty of God.  He held himself to less than 40 minutes on the sermon.  The pilgrim was aware that the church is perched just above Gehenna (the site of Biblical hell) although the preacher didn't mention hell once.  He felt as if he were home in his childhood at Lkt Pres---hearing the great theme of the Reformers that god reigns despite circumstances.  Of course there was no communion, but he went home to lunch in peace.   In the afternoon, the bus took us to see the Chagall windows and the museum of the Dead Sea Scrolls.   A wonderful day.

Saturday March 14th

Shabbat shalom!  Our group has become a real pilgrim group.  Today we went to Bethphage where Jesus mounted a donkey to ride into Jerusalem.  There is a stone in the church said to be the stone Jesus stepped onto to help him mount the donkey!! but the church was beautifu; we sang and meditated. On one of the frescoes on the stone, the donkey is smiling.  We were unable to go to Bethany because of the Wall.  It is very hard not to become politicized in this country when the Israelis have restricted movement so severely.  Having been to the Yad Vasehm Holocaust Museum one understands their paranoia and need for security, but the effects of their occupation has meant that only 1% of the population is Christian.  The others have had to leave caught between the Israelis on one hand and the Muslims on the other.  Most Christians here are Palestinians--many of whom are deeply oppressed by the way the system works.  From Bethphage we walked down the Mount of Olives about half way to Dominus Flevit (The Lord Wept) where we had another meditation but couldn't get in because services were in progress.  Lower still (in my imagination I had the Mount of Olives on top of the Mount) was the garden of Gethsemane (oil press) and the Church of All Nations.  In the 1920's the Roman Catholic Church commissioned one architect to design a number of churches (Mussolini put up lots of the money to build them!!!) Annunciation etc and also this church.  One entered having seen the garden of Gethsemane which is a small space fenced so one could only gaze into it containing 8-10 old olive trees--I found this to be a real let down.  The church however had all its windows in purple which made the interior one that lent itself to a sense of passion and agony.  The exposed rock in front of the altar of course was labelled the rock Jesus prayed against, but one has come to expect every story to be given a place.    After the usual hummus/pita lunch we went to St Peters in Gallicante--St Peter and the crowing rooster.  This church purports to be built on the site of Caiaphas residence where Jesus would have been taken after his arrest in the garden of Gethsemane.  More importantly there is a set of Roman steps that Jesus and the disciples would have taken after the Last Supper to go across the Kidron Valley.  I truly walked in the steps of Jesus...  Jesus would have had to pass the tombs of some of the prophets on his way to the garden--so he would have been put in mind of what awaited him only hours later--he could have simply continued up over the Mount of Olives and into the desert to freedom.   I became very aware of the Lord's agony of decision about the cup presented to him and the choice he made.    

Friday 13th    

we are given a free day and so 14 of us hired a bus to take us to Masada.  It was relatively cheap--$23 each for the bus and then 83 sheckels or about $21 for admission.  Took about 1 1/2 hours to drive to the south end of the Dead Sea.  We went up by cable car.  The views were fantastic--the Dead Sea below us and desert all around.  The forts of the Roman seige still clearly visible as well as the ramp they erected to raise their siege engine and break the wall.  This was the last stronghold in the jewish war for independence 67--70 AD (masada held out until 73-4.  It really does seem impregnable--and was an engineering marvel.  This is very much a place of Israeli nationalism.   I hiked back down the serpentine "snake path" and even saw a herd of ibex hanging out in a wadi at the bottom!!   On the way home the bus driver stopped at a public beach area on the Dead Sea.  I stripped to my boxers (I was the only one) and swam in the Dead Sea.  One really does float!!  And the water was lovely and cool and didn't smell very much.  There were outdoor showers near the beach to wash off.  We left at 8 AM and were back by 3:30 PM    My plans are to leave in a few minutes and walk down into the old city to the wailing wall to watch the shabbat services.      Shabbat shalom.  Carter+

Thursday March 12   

We left at 6 AM to hike down to the old city and then followed the stations of the cross on the via dolorosa.  Very quiet and meditative.  This was followed by going to the Syrian Orthodox Church which is one of the two traditional sites of the upper room.  The woman who showed us their church was very animated.  The upper room was actually below the church which made a certain sense --the city was destroyed and filled in by the Romans.   We had a reflection there and sang.  We then attempted to see the other site (which I had visited earlier) but is was being under some construction.  We visited the German Catholic Church of the Dormition--(based on the death of Mary --who fell asleep hence "dormition".    After lunch provided by the Lutherans, we hiked back to the via delorosa to the church that claims to have the stone where J