Friday, January 13, 2012
Women of the Way Book Trailer
Check out Jane Blanchard's site for more information about her upcoming book. That's me in the video at about 0:35 seconds in!
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Women of the Way
Hello everyone!
I wanted to quickly post about another project in the works. When I was in Puente la Reina I was interviewed myself for another woman's book Women of the Way. I was surprised to have the tables turned on me in my own research but I am looking forward to seeing her book published and I was thrilled to be a part of it! You can check out Jane Blanchard's project here. Buen Camino Jane!
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Oh my... So listen, I've pared down my photographs to a selection of ones which are decent enough to show others and this has left me with.... 900 or so. Obviously I will not be posting them all. I'll try to post a selection of pictures which present some kind of story about what the Camino looked like after I became fed up with posting pictures while I was still in Spain.
Photographically I believe I left you all somewhere in San Juan de Ortega witnessing a kind of a miracle. It will be another miracle if I can manage to post enough pictures on to be even remotely representative enough but here it goes. Click the picture below to go to my picasa album of photographs on the Camino.
 |
| Sainte terre |
Monday, October 24, 2011
To the edge of the world, and beyond!
What can I say about this, to sum it all up. Experiences unfortunately can´t be wrapped up in neat little packages and shared so easily. I say unfortunately because how amazing would it be to be able to give the gift of experience so easily!? But actually, these are things that are only rich and meaningful because you have to work for them, because you have to put one foot in front of the other and ¨keep walking¨ as so many signs on the Camino helpfully suggested. Sometimes the steps are easy and carefree, sometimes they are painful and replete with bodily suffering. But mostly, they are light in the way that your soul feels bouyant when it knows it´s on the right path and all the Universe seems to be propelling you forward. That´s a bit of a grandiose statement, but sometimes, at my best moments, I felt just that way.
The four days further it took to walk to Finisterre, were some of the most beautiful, most peaceful days. Starting out from Santiago, it was strange to find myself walking away from the Cathedral, following the little yellow arrows pointing a different direction. The Camino Finisterre is technically a seperate Camino which ends, unquely, not in Santiago but at the furthest western point of continental Europe. There is a lighthouse there and then, there is Ocean. Standing there at the edge I imagined I would be staring out to sea contemplating the belief that it was in fact the end, before the ¨discovery¨ of the America´s. Instead I was staring out at a massive bank of fog rolling in obscuring the sea, and contemplating the end of my own journey. The fog came in quickly and wrapped us up in quiet and seemed to say sternly; ¨THINK!¨
For me, certain signs appeared frequently that became signals telling me if I was going rightly, and symbolism was everywhere, everywhere. The way I grew up and the teachers I have had in my life have also instilled in me a certain predisposition toward looking at things abstractly and seeing them as symbols in addition to whatever ¨real¨ properties they may possess. You cannot do this all the time of course, because if you look at a dog and see only a symbol... well you might get bitten. But if you can see the dog and the symbol then a whole new layer of experience opens up and one which provides ample fodder for contemplation. Fortunately, the Camino provides also ample time for contemplation, an excellent combination! I cannot even begin to estimate how much time I´ve spent in the last 7 weeks contemplating the number 3, for example... what it means? I don´t know yet but I´m thinking still. I could launch into a full on analysis of the various associations I have with this number but I think there are only a few reading this who would find that interesting, so I´ll spare you all my esoteric ramblings and save these thoughts for perhaps another venue.
Where am I? Barcelona. It´s raining in Barcelona. For 37 days of walking every day, it did not rain. Until the moment when I walked to the point that I could walk no futher (or I would plunge into the rocky and cold Atlantic ocean), there was sun and warmth. 15 minutes later, there was fog. Que Suerte! Lucky indeed to have such fine and wonderful weather for walking. The hardest part about walking the Camino was to have to stop walking at the end. But I am in Barcelona, I did not walk here. To walk back to Barcelona would have taken probably another 45 or 50 days, time I sadly did not have at my disposal. I walked to Finisterre and then I had to get on a bus, oh what a horrible thing that was. I have never in my life had problems with motion sickness, but those three hours from Finisterre back to Santiago I wanted to die. Perhaps that was my little death at the end, so that I could be reborn? I´m sure it was beautiful, winding along the coast through lovely little fishing towns then back through forests and over some mountains... but I wouldn´t know, I spent the time curled into fetal position shoved in the corner trying to breath steadily with my eyes glued shut. Then suddenly, we were back in Santiago reliving the experience of walking in as Pilgrims. Pilgrims no more. The end.
Onward...
I have more to say about my travels but I´m being terribly anti-social with my host, Tatianna in Barcelona, an absolutely fantastic person I met a few years ago while travelling in Nicaragua, some if you may have followed me then as well?
More to come. Cheerio!
The four days further it took to walk to Finisterre, were some of the most beautiful, most peaceful days. Starting out from Santiago, it was strange to find myself walking away from the Cathedral, following the little yellow arrows pointing a different direction. The Camino Finisterre is technically a seperate Camino which ends, unquely, not in Santiago but at the furthest western point of continental Europe. There is a lighthouse there and then, there is Ocean. Standing there at the edge I imagined I would be staring out to sea contemplating the belief that it was in fact the end, before the ¨discovery¨ of the America´s. Instead I was staring out at a massive bank of fog rolling in obscuring the sea, and contemplating the end of my own journey. The fog came in quickly and wrapped us up in quiet and seemed to say sternly; ¨THINK!¨
For me, certain signs appeared frequently that became signals telling me if I was going rightly, and symbolism was everywhere, everywhere. The way I grew up and the teachers I have had in my life have also instilled in me a certain predisposition toward looking at things abstractly and seeing them as symbols in addition to whatever ¨real¨ properties they may possess. You cannot do this all the time of course, because if you look at a dog and see only a symbol... well you might get bitten. But if you can see the dog and the symbol then a whole new layer of experience opens up and one which provides ample fodder for contemplation. Fortunately, the Camino provides also ample time for contemplation, an excellent combination! I cannot even begin to estimate how much time I´ve spent in the last 7 weeks contemplating the number 3, for example... what it means? I don´t know yet but I´m thinking still. I could launch into a full on analysis of the various associations I have with this number but I think there are only a few reading this who would find that interesting, so I´ll spare you all my esoteric ramblings and save these thoughts for perhaps another venue.
Where am I? Barcelona. It´s raining in Barcelona. For 37 days of walking every day, it did not rain. Until the moment when I walked to the point that I could walk no futher (or I would plunge into the rocky and cold Atlantic ocean), there was sun and warmth. 15 minutes later, there was fog. Que Suerte! Lucky indeed to have such fine and wonderful weather for walking. The hardest part about walking the Camino was to have to stop walking at the end. But I am in Barcelona, I did not walk here. To walk back to Barcelona would have taken probably another 45 or 50 days, time I sadly did not have at my disposal. I walked to Finisterre and then I had to get on a bus, oh what a horrible thing that was. I have never in my life had problems with motion sickness, but those three hours from Finisterre back to Santiago I wanted to die. Perhaps that was my little death at the end, so that I could be reborn? I´m sure it was beautiful, winding along the coast through lovely little fishing towns then back through forests and over some mountains... but I wouldn´t know, I spent the time curled into fetal position shoved in the corner trying to breath steadily with my eyes glued shut. Then suddenly, we were back in Santiago reliving the experience of walking in as Pilgrims. Pilgrims no more. The end.
Onward...
I have more to say about my travels but I´m being terribly anti-social with my host, Tatianna in Barcelona, an absolutely fantastic person I met a few years ago while travelling in Nicaragua, some if you may have followed me then as well?
More to come. Cheerio!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
The last three days I´ve been marching across Spain with my compañeras, doing over 30km every day to reach here, Monte do Gozo, perched on the edge of Santiago. We´re sort of poised on the edge of the end, Santiago a very visible 5km away, or an easy 1 hour morning walk. This distance after about 790km passed seemes pretty negligable. I, we, could have gone easily all the way into the city today but waiting at the edge, taking the time to reflect on the journey before plunging into the chaotic fray of arrival seems greatly prefereable to nearly all. Few are eager for the end, even the tiredest bodies are at least hesitant, unsure perhaps of what it will be to return to life after the Camino.
The break also allows time to wash up and prepare the Sunday (or Wednesday) best for church tomorrow. After one day of walking 8 hours, the clean up is essential, after 32 days... let´s just say some things are better burned.
For me, Santiago is a milestone to say the least. A major accomplishment, but Finisterre (the end of the world) a further 80km to the coast of Spain has always been my goal, so tomorrow does not feel like the end for me. I will spend the day resting in Santiago, attend the 12 noon Pilgrim mass and celebrate with all the pilgrims whose faces have coloured the past month. Come Thursday, I´ll be leaving behind 90% of my companions and carrying on another 3-4 days (depending on how masochistic I´m feeling) until I reach the edge, the far western point of Spain and honestly if I don´t find a waterfall plummeting into an abyss of space I think I might be a bit dissapointed. I mean with a name like finisterre!?
For 32 days we have been rising before the sun in dormitories full of exhausted and often smelly pigrims of all nationalities.
We drink our cafe con leche or in my case a cafe solo grande (a black ameicano) and maybe have a bite of bread to eat.
We strap on our packs which by now are either old friends whose presence is barely felt, or arch enemies who may be amongst the sacrificed next time we find ourselves near a fire.
And we walk. Most days we walk 25-30km, or about 8 hours. After this you want to pass out wherever the next obliging horizontal surface presents itself but instead we shower and wash laundry that if it isn´t hung to dry early enough, won´t try at all. And then dinner must be found (or cooked) so that you can regain some strength and get to bed early enough to rise and carry on again tomorrow.
This schedule dosn´t leave a lot of time for sight seeing, but as we say we are not tourists,we are pilgrims. I have also to find time to write down the important details of each day, which after so many days begin to seem lesss important and more mundane. Proof enough to me that almost anything can become routine.
Pilgrims are easily spotted in whichever town you happen to stop in. If the dead givaway backpack and walking stick aren´t present or they´ve already showered and checked into their albergue (pilgim hostel) than the stiff legged walk of a sore body is a reliable indicator. Or you can look for the large, eclectic groups of people piecing conversation together in mutually intelligible bits of languages. They´ll all be having the pilgrim menu to be sure, a set small assortment of options for 1st course, 2nd course and desert including wine or water (both if you´re lucky). For me (the lowly vegetarian in Spain), I eat a lot of ensalada mixta and sooo many eggs.
Sometimes these pilgrims, friends over dinner, become friends on the trail as well and walk to the next town together, or sometimes they walk alone and regroup for dinner the next night. Somtimes the pace is quick, sometimes slow (or barely more than a stumbling crawl). Sometimes you meet someone and have a life changing kind of conversation and never see that person again. And sometimes you see someone every day and never actually meet them. However it goes, with these people you have shared and expereince that is very hard to really relate. At the moment, what´s most incomprehensible to me is that I am really at the doorstep of Santiago. It´s not possible for me to imagine the distance I have walked, more or less 790km. If I look at the route on a map and look at the map of Spain in relation to the world... it´s crazy, I hardly know what to think, what to feel (except tired and sore of course) or what to say. I would say thank you though.
Since yesterday was Thanksgiving in Canada I have a few things I would like to give thanks to. I have already given thanks to everyone who helped me get here, geographically, spiritualy and academically but thank you all again. I would also like to thank, enormously and sincerely, my body. In physical terms I had no idea what I was getting myself into, I´ve never done anything like this before. I am in awe of my body for carrying me this far with minimal resistance. Just one foot in front of the other, day after day and here I am. I am thankful for the Camino itself, anf¡d for the associations and volunteers that support it and the people walking it. I am thankful to my fellow pilgrims for enriching the experience and to the Gods or perhaps Space dwelling planetary overlords for blessing us with unbeleivably perfect weather. I´m not certain I can even say I´ve really had the real camino experience having walked for 32 days and not once, gotten rained on. Even since crossing into Galicia, the supposedly constantly rainy Galicia... blue skies, warm breezes and beautifully cool days. I shoul perhaps knock on wood though with a furter 90km to go until Finisterre.
This is not the last you will hear from me on my travels here. I will have more to say about the post-Santiago experience and the end of the world. Tomorrow I will reach a destination, but the road goes ever onward.
Now I wish I´d had more time, sitting here on the edge as I am. I´d like to have written more to you all, and shared more pictures (I will post more at some point). I will actually be spending the next 6 months or so reliving this experience though and preparing a presentation so most of you will see it and hear it from me first hand anyway sooner or later.
The break also allows time to wash up and prepare the Sunday (or Wednesday) best for church tomorrow. After one day of walking 8 hours, the clean up is essential, after 32 days... let´s just say some things are better burned.
For me, Santiago is a milestone to say the least. A major accomplishment, but Finisterre (the end of the world) a further 80km to the coast of Spain has always been my goal, so tomorrow does not feel like the end for me. I will spend the day resting in Santiago, attend the 12 noon Pilgrim mass and celebrate with all the pilgrims whose faces have coloured the past month. Come Thursday, I´ll be leaving behind 90% of my companions and carrying on another 3-4 days (depending on how masochistic I´m feeling) until I reach the edge, the far western point of Spain and honestly if I don´t find a waterfall plummeting into an abyss of space I think I might be a bit dissapointed. I mean with a name like finisterre!?
For 32 days we have been rising before the sun in dormitories full of exhausted and often smelly pigrims of all nationalities.
We drink our cafe con leche or in my case a cafe solo grande (a black ameicano) and maybe have a bite of bread to eat.
We strap on our packs which by now are either old friends whose presence is barely felt, or arch enemies who may be amongst the sacrificed next time we find ourselves near a fire.
And we walk. Most days we walk 25-30km, or about 8 hours. After this you want to pass out wherever the next obliging horizontal surface presents itself but instead we shower and wash laundry that if it isn´t hung to dry early enough, won´t try at all. And then dinner must be found (or cooked) so that you can regain some strength and get to bed early enough to rise and carry on again tomorrow.
This schedule dosn´t leave a lot of time for sight seeing, but as we say we are not tourists,we are pilgrims. I have also to find time to write down the important details of each day, which after so many days begin to seem lesss important and more mundane. Proof enough to me that almost anything can become routine.
Pilgrims are easily spotted in whichever town you happen to stop in. If the dead givaway backpack and walking stick aren´t present or they´ve already showered and checked into their albergue (pilgim hostel) than the stiff legged walk of a sore body is a reliable indicator. Or you can look for the large, eclectic groups of people piecing conversation together in mutually intelligible bits of languages. They´ll all be having the pilgrim menu to be sure, a set small assortment of options for 1st course, 2nd course and desert including wine or water (both if you´re lucky). For me (the lowly vegetarian in Spain), I eat a lot of ensalada mixta and sooo many eggs.
Sometimes these pilgrims, friends over dinner, become friends on the trail as well and walk to the next town together, or sometimes they walk alone and regroup for dinner the next night. Somtimes the pace is quick, sometimes slow (or barely more than a stumbling crawl). Sometimes you meet someone and have a life changing kind of conversation and never see that person again. And sometimes you see someone every day and never actually meet them. However it goes, with these people you have shared and expereince that is very hard to really relate. At the moment, what´s most incomprehensible to me is that I am really at the doorstep of Santiago. It´s not possible for me to imagine the distance I have walked, more or less 790km. If I look at the route on a map and look at the map of Spain in relation to the world... it´s crazy, I hardly know what to think, what to feel (except tired and sore of course) or what to say. I would say thank you though.
Since yesterday was Thanksgiving in Canada I have a few things I would like to give thanks to. I have already given thanks to everyone who helped me get here, geographically, spiritualy and academically but thank you all again. I would also like to thank, enormously and sincerely, my body. In physical terms I had no idea what I was getting myself into, I´ve never done anything like this before. I am in awe of my body for carrying me this far with minimal resistance. Just one foot in front of the other, day after day and here I am. I am thankful for the Camino itself, anf¡d for the associations and volunteers that support it and the people walking it. I am thankful to my fellow pilgrims for enriching the experience and to the Gods or perhaps Space dwelling planetary overlords for blessing us with unbeleivably perfect weather. I´m not certain I can even say I´ve really had the real camino experience having walked for 32 days and not once, gotten rained on. Even since crossing into Galicia, the supposedly constantly rainy Galicia... blue skies, warm breezes and beautifully cool days. I shoul perhaps knock on wood though with a furter 90km to go until Finisterre.
This is not the last you will hear from me on my travels here. I will have more to say about the post-Santiago experience and the end of the world. Tomorrow I will reach a destination, but the road goes ever onward.
Now I wish I´d had more time, sitting here on the edge as I am. I´d like to have written more to you all, and shared more pictures (I will post more at some point). I will actually be spending the next 6 months or so reliving this experience though and preparing a presentation so most of you will see it and hear it from me first hand anyway sooner or later.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
...Where I left off
Passed through Astorga yesterday and had a very nice meal at the Hotel Gaudi, opposit the Palacio Gaudi (resembling a Disney castle somewhat), and the Cathedral. The hotel was nice enough to offer an inexpensive menu for pilgrims so there was a large group of us around a round table with wine and bread and lovely food. Nice to dine well for once! As expected of course, vegetarian fare is non-existent. I eat a lot of Tortilla (eggs and potatoes) which fortunately I totally love, but the diet is not so varied for me. I am happy though.
Passing Leon (then Astorga two days later) I am officially beyong the Meseta and as of today, climbing again. Tomorrow I will climb to the highest point along the whole Camino (1,505M) and see the famed Cruz de Ferro (Iron Cross). Over the years of people leaving rocks at the base a mountain has built up around this cross I understand. I´ve found my rock to leave back along the old Roman road (Calzada Romana). I´ve been picking up too many rocks (like I do) and they are beginning to get a little to heavy... perhaps I shall leave several, a little mountain of my own, at the cross.
The Meseta, the vast empty plains were very beautiful to me. Many found them boring, too much of the same thing, eerily empty, or skipped over them alltogether. I liked it. But I don´t know how ¨emotional¨ I found the experience of crossing them... But then I´ve never been particularly in touch with my emotional nature. I did find, that on those long days though I tended to prefer walking with company, rather then on my own. And when you walk with company on the Camino (besides of course, the constant company of God) then the conversation can be very interesting. The somtimes difficult miles of space to cross on the Meseta did seem to bring out some deeper memories for people, and often people spoke of their motivations for walking the Camino.
Again, I seem to be running out of time on this computer and I can´t keep feeding it Euros so I I´ll have to bid you all farewell.
Just over a couple hundred more kilometres to go until Santiago. Will write again as I near it.
Passing Leon (then Astorga two days later) I am officially beyong the Meseta and as of today, climbing again. Tomorrow I will climb to the highest point along the whole Camino (1,505M) and see the famed Cruz de Ferro (Iron Cross). Over the years of people leaving rocks at the base a mountain has built up around this cross I understand. I´ve found my rock to leave back along the old Roman road (Calzada Romana). I´ve been picking up too many rocks (like I do) and they are beginning to get a little to heavy... perhaps I shall leave several, a little mountain of my own, at the cross.
The Meseta, the vast empty plains were very beautiful to me. Many found them boring, too much of the same thing, eerily empty, or skipped over them alltogether. I liked it. But I don´t know how ¨emotional¨ I found the experience of crossing them... But then I´ve never been particularly in touch with my emotional nature. I did find, that on those long days though I tended to prefer walking with company, rather then on my own. And when you walk with company on the Camino (besides of course, the constant company of God) then the conversation can be very interesting. The somtimes difficult miles of space to cross on the Meseta did seem to bring out some deeper memories for people, and often people spoke of their motivations for walking the Camino.
Again, I seem to be running out of time on this computer and I can´t keep feeding it Euros so I I´ll have to bid you all farewell.
Just over a couple hundred more kilometres to go until Santiago. Will write again as I near it.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Nearly two-thirds
Alright I know the experience is richer for the images and those thousand words that are so much faster to read but honestly, most of the places I´m staying are pretty rubbish for internet speed and it takes hours (truly) to upload photos. So you´ll just have to be satisfied for now with a brief update without photographic support.
Today I´m writing from a village called Villar de Mazarife (a decidedly Moorish name) just this side of Leon. I passed through Leon yesterday and of the cities we´ve gone through along the Way it was my favorite so far. Part of my enjoyment of the city was the somewhat magical reunion with people I´d though I´d lost somehow along the road but who all seemed to arrive in Leon on the same day anyway. It was the place to be last ¡t night really, where were you? Also, they had a rather remarkable Cathedral and the very homeopathic formula I required for my swollen and unhappy knee.
The walk into Leon (as with really the approach to all of the cities on the Camino) left something to be desired... Burgos being the worst... but that´s another story. Yesterday though, walking into Leon was all on the roadside version of the Camino. I´ll admit to a gross oversimplification of things here for dramatic effect (and this will not suit for my academic writing but for the blog...), but sometimes I feel as though I could boil my personal preference for, and experience of, the ¨landscapes of the Camino¨down to proximity to major roads. Let me put it like this...
If you were given the choice between taking a walk, a long walk mind you, on either the Bruce Trail (Appalacian Trail) or the 401 (I-70) which would you choose? On option 1 you might have wildflowers and birds and smells of morning dew or something slightly hard to place but lovely... on option 2 you have weeds that are likely toxic, traffic that is dangerously fast and the smell of exhaust. Unless you are completely crazy or engaged in some sort of ¨art project¨then the question is clearly rhetorical. Well it feels like that simple a dichotomy out here sometimes. The Camino that isn´t ¨written home¨about is the long walks into cities by tire factories and car dealerships, the lenghty kilometres (miles) of walking on road shoulders with truck drivers flying past so fast and close you have to hold your hat on and the pathways so untended they feel lonely and rejected despite the many thousands that walk every year. This is the unromantic Camino, the camino that is not written about in any of the published accounts or shown in any of the photographs. This is the last pleastant to experience but the most interesting to record (for my research anyway).
I don´t mean to sound cynical at all, I´m having an amazing experience to be sure but since the rest of my blog has been lovely with pretty pictures I do feel obliged to report the slightly more honest version of things. I´ve not yet gone through my maps and diaries to extract some kind of percentage of the camino that feels ¨souless¨ but I can at least say that it´s a somewhat sad amount of it. Before I came to Spain I was perusing a book called ¨Non-Places¨ which was effectively the anthropological study of places like freeways, waiting rooms and airport terminals. Places that we in our very modern lives may actually spend a lot of time, but rarely notice or really take the time to look at. These places are really only meant to be a means to an end, a way to get you from point A to B. Well a good amount of the Camino feels that way, paved over, pushed to the sidelines, neglected and perhaps sort of sterilized for convenience sake.
However, these places, that are difficult to walk through because they make you feel like not walking, do rather have the effect of making you really appreciate the quiet countryside, even if it is just endless fields of straw. The monotonous landscapes of the ¨Meseta¨ are certainly very conducive to contemplation because there really isn´t much to look at but your own mind, and that can be very interesting. I´d like to write more but I´ve got 4 minutes left, so I´ll have to continue where I left off soon...
Today I´m writing from a village called Villar de Mazarife (a decidedly Moorish name) just this side of Leon. I passed through Leon yesterday and of the cities we´ve gone through along the Way it was my favorite so far. Part of my enjoyment of the city was the somewhat magical reunion with people I´d though I´d lost somehow along the road but who all seemed to arrive in Leon on the same day anyway. It was the place to be last ¡t night really, where were you? Also, they had a rather remarkable Cathedral and the very homeopathic formula I required for my swollen and unhappy knee.
The walk into Leon (as with really the approach to all of the cities on the Camino) left something to be desired... Burgos being the worst... but that´s another story. Yesterday though, walking into Leon was all on the roadside version of the Camino. I´ll admit to a gross oversimplification of things here for dramatic effect (and this will not suit for my academic writing but for the blog...), but sometimes I feel as though I could boil my personal preference for, and experience of, the ¨landscapes of the Camino¨down to proximity to major roads. Let me put it like this...
If you were given the choice between taking a walk, a long walk mind you, on either the Bruce Trail (Appalacian Trail) or the 401 (I-70) which would you choose? On option 1 you might have wildflowers and birds and smells of morning dew or something slightly hard to place but lovely... on option 2 you have weeds that are likely toxic, traffic that is dangerously fast and the smell of exhaust. Unless you are completely crazy or engaged in some sort of ¨art project¨then the question is clearly rhetorical. Well it feels like that simple a dichotomy out here sometimes. The Camino that isn´t ¨written home¨about is the long walks into cities by tire factories and car dealerships, the lenghty kilometres (miles) of walking on road shoulders with truck drivers flying past so fast and close you have to hold your hat on and the pathways so untended they feel lonely and rejected despite the many thousands that walk every year. This is the unromantic Camino, the camino that is not written about in any of the published accounts or shown in any of the photographs. This is the last pleastant to experience but the most interesting to record (for my research anyway).
I don´t mean to sound cynical at all, I´m having an amazing experience to be sure but since the rest of my blog has been lovely with pretty pictures I do feel obliged to report the slightly more honest version of things. I´ve not yet gone through my maps and diaries to extract some kind of percentage of the camino that feels ¨souless¨ but I can at least say that it´s a somewhat sad amount of it. Before I came to Spain I was perusing a book called ¨Non-Places¨ which was effectively the anthropological study of places like freeways, waiting rooms and airport terminals. Places that we in our very modern lives may actually spend a lot of time, but rarely notice or really take the time to look at. These places are really only meant to be a means to an end, a way to get you from point A to B. Well a good amount of the Camino feels that way, paved over, pushed to the sidelines, neglected and perhaps sort of sterilized for convenience sake.
However, these places, that are difficult to walk through because they make you feel like not walking, do rather have the effect of making you really appreciate the quiet countryside, even if it is just endless fields of straw. The monotonous landscapes of the ¨Meseta¨ are certainly very conducive to contemplation because there really isn´t much to look at but your own mind, and that can be very interesting. I´d like to write more but I´ve got 4 minutes left, so I´ll have to continue where I left off soon...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)