impressions: Santiago de Compostela

Praza de Cervantes

Once a city reaches the status of take-away coffees and hamburger formulas, some of Spain gets sort of lost there. Santiago de Compostela is the first place - after 800 kilometers along this so hospitable Camino Frances - where I have to pay my coffee right away...
Still, street life is fabulous here. Voices everywhere, people meeting, saying hello.

Once is present everywhere. It's the giant lottery based on the sales of the blind on streetcorners.  Spaniards like to gamble - lotteries, smoking, flirting...

Sunlight and shadow playing everywhere. Old stone is the foundation, in every gradation of grey. Nobody notices a 300 year old fountain. The square has it's own church- of course. The door is open.
The paces are so different. The student rushes, talking into his cellphone. Late, as everywhere in the world. Old men wandering quietly to their daily shop visit. Musicians playing- this is Santiago. Tourist place. Deutsch, Italiano.
An older businessman. Slowing down already. But certain in where he goes. Doesn't have to prove himself anymore, but still likes the excitement. Quick cigar.
Other people asking you for cigarettes. Beggars, homeless people. Into their own world. Still always looking around for chances.
A mother meets her friend. One eye at the children. But they will follow.
And then, the young pretty girl. She knows about the glances. This is one world.

Camino Frances 2012/ Final destination Santiago?

On October 12. I reached Santiago. The gates of the cathedral were closed. I couldn't touch the foot of Jacob, like pilgrims had done centuries before me - how often I had thought how special this moment would be - there was a fence around the statue. I went to the mass and had no place to sit- crowded with tourists.

A nun was singing a beautiful song, she gave me shivers. But it was the only emotion. The cathedral itself felt empty. The priest was murmering in Spanish - no contact. When the priests walked away after the service they didn't make eye contact, not a friendly smile, nothing.
I am not catholic, not religious, yet I expected more from this visit. The next day I tried again. Even more people... I missed the reserved places for peregrinos, would have been a nice gesture from this church. Another service where the priests seemed to speak to...above...not to me. I dreamt away, musing about the many places along the Camino where I did feel contact with the church, the people inside, the statues. Quiet places loaded with a special atmosphere.

But then they started swinging the botafumeiro. And this finally felt better, the whole cathedral seemed relieved. And I felt ready for Finisterre, the real end of the Camino.

impressions: Ligonde

Galician villages are cattle villages. Almost every house has got a stable. At five in the afternoon, there are cows on the street. They know where to go.

And for the cows that want to find their own stubborn path; there are ropes everywhere, ready to be in the way.

If you watch carefully, you see the older women. A bench or a chair in the shadow. They don't have to sit where they see everything; the sounds of the village tell them what happens. Always the same dogs barking; you know the different sound of every tractor. Cocks crowing, cattle that moo impatiently: the neighbours are always late.

History of the Camino and Pilgrimage

"When we first trekked to Compostela in 1974 we did not meet even one other pilgrim on the Road."
Isn't that a very promising start for a book about the Camino*.
I was in Galicia myself in 1992, and walked from Sarria backwards to the monastery of Samos. Don't remember having met any other people on the road. And...I could just touch the famous statue in the cathedral...
In 1986 2.500 people walked the Camino, in 1996 23.000, in 2006 about 100.000 (and even more in the roman catholic Holy Years, like 1999 and 2004). So the growth went very fast!
A way to describe Pilgrimage is 'leaving ordinary life to seek for mental health.' It might have a religious meaning, but that's not a condition of course. Making a pilgrimage journey is an essential character of all world religions. Goethe wrote in the 18. Century that the camino (he meant all pilgrimsways) made Europe for what it is.
Since the end of the 20. Century there is a great revival in Pilgrimage, and the Camino de Santiago is the most important representative of this phenomenon. But the roots are old, very old.

It is so fascinating to realize that in some periods of European history more than ten percent of the European male population was involved in pilgrimage. As a pilgrim, of course, but also in the large trade it attracted. Some of the pilgrims were female.
Not everybody was always in a spiritual mood: prostitution florished along the Camino, too.
The numerous hospitiums you will notice along the Camino symbolize how hard travelling has been in the Middle Ages. Of course, a lot of people went on a pilgrimage already ill, because they sought for cure by doing this. But also lots of pilgrims were robbed and beaten up along the Camino.
Most people were travelling for one or two years. And most of the time they had to walk back, to.


So you will step into a rich and ancient heritage on the road.





* The pilgrimage road to Santiago, by David Gitlitz and Linda Kay Davidson.
Another source is: Pelgrimage. Een spirituele reis (Pilgrimage. A spiritual and Cultural Journey) by Ian Bradley (2009). Not entirely my kind of book, but it contains some very interesting ideas and facts.

impressions: San Felix de Oca

Such a special, quiet place to dream away about the past. The remnants of a monastery, built in between the 7. and 9. Century. Imagine those times...

I looked through the window on the right side. I felt the cold air inside, where no sun ever comes in. A sense of the 1.400 years that have passed by. I'm 51, my son is 19.

Rituals

At seven it is still dark in Western Spain. Most albergues don't serve breakfast, so at around seven it's pack'n go! I put on my walking shoes. Careful, slow ritual. Always gives this special feeling of promises- outside, new ways, nature. I put on my backpack. The weight always feels good.
Where is my hat. Where is my walking stick. The guidebook under my belt. Water bottle filled up. Cellphone out. Ready. Stepping outside. Feel the temperature, look at the sky. Another day on the road.

Only need to find the first yellow arrow. First present of the day: sunrise!

in your eyes I see

David... This man was fascinating. Living in a deserted barn all summer, somewhere in the fields, cycling to the village every morning to store fruit, bread, coffee, anything. The approaching peregrino sees this barn, a stable with food, a nice bench, colourful texts 'anything is possible here' and 'take what you need, it's free'.

Some walk on, scared by so much freedom, others take this unexpected bath of kindness.

But the only thing he sells is love.

impressie: León, de oude Santa Maria

Langzaam schuifelen de oude vrouwen naar binnen. Een loopt nog even gauw voor een gesprekje naar de priester in het zijvertrek. Gedempte stemmen. Dan komt hij binnen voor de mis. Hij zit als op een troon tussen zijn eeuwenoude kunstschatten. Het is eenzaam daar vooraan bij het altaar. De priester voert de oeroude rituelen uit. Je hoeft geen Spaans te spreken, de bijbelse intonatie is universeel.

Klein gebaar van menselijkheid toch. De vraag komt je naastbijzittende te groeten en de hand te geven. Even de cadans doorbroken.

Dan weer stilte.
Zonlicht op messias.
Taferelen te mooi voor alledag zijn het toch.
Pieta.


<impression of a church visit in León. You'll understand>

Waiting until the church door opens

This is León. My favourite city on the Road. León was founded by the Romans in the year 70 to protect the Galician goldmines. The city was the seat of the Seventh Legion, whence the name Le(gi)ón.

(from Gitlitz and Davidson: The pilgrimage Road to Santiago)

La Cañada Real Leonesa Occidental

A real great moment for me on the Camino was crossing the Cañada Real Leonesa Occidental on the 25. September. Very harsh winds all day, so me and my companions didn't stay there very long.

The Cañadas and the Mesta are a very special part of Spanish history.

It's all about sheep. And I love sheep. Just read the next message.

Transhumance is the centuries old tradition of bringing the herds from summer- to winter pastures, depending on the season. Nowadays the transport takes place by truck or train, but it used to be a walking thing. The herds needed space to travel slowly, and that is why there are cañadas, broad grasscovered ways (up to 75 meters) in a huge network through Spain.

Spain was divided between Moors and Christians for centuries. In the nomansland in between the rivalling parties only shepherds could be found. It led to a lot of conflicts between farmers and shepherds after the Reconquista. The Mesta was the organisation that guarded the interests of the sheep and wool trade.

Spain's economy was based on wool for a long time. It was delivered to the clothing industry in Flanders and England. A lot ot wealth came from the wool (this is before the time of the colonies and the silver fleets...).

The Honrado Concejo de la Mesta was one of the most powerful institutions in the land. The members came from the nobility and church orders.

The herds (of up to 40.000 sheep!) travelled from Extremadura and Andalusia to Castilia, for instance. This particular route is 700 kilometers long. The cañadas reales were protected by the king and the herds were granted the right to travel there forever.  Nobody could build anything on these routes.

Historians claim that the transhumance network has highly contributed to the unity of the Spanish language. Without this network that lead to a lot of 'interlocal' contact Spain would have had much stronger regional dialects, developing to different languages.

The Cañada Real Leonesa Occidental




Spanish shepherds protesting in Madrid against violation of their rights

The large network of Cañadas all over Spain.

Doubleclick on the image to enlarge it

impressions: Fuente de los Moros

Another very special monument on the Camino is this very old water basin. Why this construction? Water level and keeping the water cool, I guess. I just sat here a while, not to drink water but drink in the ancient atmosphere.

Gitlitz writes: Just before Villamayor is a gothic fountain/ cistern. It was restored in 1991. As the name implies, local legends holds that it is a much earlier Islamic construction.
(Gitlitz and Davidson, The Pilgrimage Road to Santiago)

impressions: Manzarin, deserted once more...

Even more left behind.. the graveyard of the abandoned village of Manzarin

Every day

We are walking through the small village of Moratinos. Sometimes me and my fellow-wanderers speak about a fascinating thing like the atmosphere of a village - why does this village feel good and another other one not at all? This place feels nice. Before the last house a man sits on a bench. Bendend forward. Watches and greets every peregrino. We walk past him, can't really see what he's doing. But something makes me turn back. I speak to him, he speaks to me, we don't and do understand each other. He is making little knots in a thin rope, at a very regular distance. And unties them again. And I realise he sits here all day and does nothing but making knots. Is he making a dark mind at ease?
In my country he would not sit on the street but we would find some official rope-knot work for him - which is actually my last job - and in this little village, in this moment of understanding each other, I see a glimpse of my own future. We shake hands. Walk on to your destiny.

  

impressions: they stopped somewhere






lots of remembrance monuments for peregrinos along the camino

doubleclick on the photo to enlarge it

impressions: Boadilla del Camino

In a small agrarian village this once was the main road.

Great happening in 1917: a new bridge over the creek!

 

Imagine how it has been- the alcalde or mayor, just finished milking his cows, comes forward in his best suit -one missing knot-  the music is playing, the whole village has come out to see this memorable moment. Perhaps his daughter was allowed to cut the ribbon stretched over the bridge, colourful flags on it. At the moment of cutting the ribbon the music stops, and the alcalde speaks some historic words about the future. The wine bottles are opened and they toast on the bridge. Music, dance! And then the first horses may cross the bridge!

Sunrise, a journey begins

Orisson, first sunrise on the Camino