Day: 1 October 2016

Today Vic decided to walk despite the condition of her feet.  Between them there are five significant discussion points, medically speaking.  She soldiered on through the 8 km (which turned out to be 11.5) in pain but with nary a whimper.

There are all kinds of people on the Camino.  Yesterday we spoke with the woman with MS who was pouring with sweat, slowly putting one foot deliberately in front of the other.  The day before was the blind guy whom others said was making his way down the cobbled ditch with his partner placing each foot so he did not turn an ankle.  We are keeping pace with the couple with the 18 month old.  Today he and the child were far ahead while she was trailing behind being significantly hustled by an Italian hunk named Fabio.  There are many stories on the Camino yet to be told.

Rain was predicted for today, and when we first looked out the streets were wet.  By the time we had finished breakfast and gotten underway, it was evident that they were wet because of the street washer.  It was cloudy, and there may have been rain in the distance but we escaped.

Because of the short walk we arrived at the hotel (another fine hotel, above our pay grade) well before the cleaning staff.  Awaiting our room, we were forced to go to the nearest coffee shop (3 meters away) for a breakfast special – a glass of orange juice that was a couple of whole oranges seconds before (courtesy of a neat machine), a cup of strong coffee, and a croissant with jam – for $4C.  Take that, Timmy.

As soon as our room was ready we hit the internet since it had gone down last night and we were internet deprived for a whole 14 hours.  By the time we looked up it was 2 PM, and we could go for lunch with the rest of Spain.  No deprecating looks from restaurants such as we normally get when we want food at noon.

Logroño is a bigger city not so dependant on the pilgrim trade.  It is the highest navigable point on the Ebro river so it was much fought over over the centuries.  The local cathedral  is newer than most with a baroque façade but still with the now familiar baroque interior.  The gilding has mostly gone, leaving much of the carving as the bare walnut.  The upper part of the retablo has been refinished with what unfortunately looks like gold paint.  Future art restorers will not look kindly on that.  It seems that most of the Spanish churches (indeed churches all over Europe) were built, or started, in the 11 or 12 or 13 hundreds, but these Spanish churches were embellished in a burst a few hundred years later with baroque interiors.  From my brief sampling, at least.  What did they look like in the intervening 3 or 4 centuries?

This also the first place we have seen beggars – at the church door and trolling the street restaurants.  A sign of a big city?

Spain is such a civilized country. When you see a sign for a meal for 10€ that is what it costs.  In Victoria there is a 6% Provincial tax, a 7% federal tax, a municipal restaurant or hotel tax or something, and then the restaurant would like to talk you into a 15 or 20% tip, because they don’t pay their staff enough.  You end up paying half again the advertised price.  And here excellent wine is automatically provided with the meal, not marked up 100% for merely providing glassware.  It is almost worth flying to Spain for a cheap meal.  North Americans are being ripped off in the eating out industry.

This was a day more in tune with a relaxed Spanish way of thinking.  I opted to take the taxi with Vic instead of walking 18 dusty kilometers in the heat.  That meant that this morning, after paying for yesterday’s medical treatment, we sat and had a coffee watching the world go by, while waiting for the taxi. After we got to the next hotel in Viana and signed in, we sat at a street café and had lunch and watched the pilgrims go by.  We could identify and greet most of our normal crew as they passed.  After lunch we retired to our room for a siesta.  Actually it was a long internet session.  That is what the Spaniards do during their siesta, isn’t it?

Viana is a very small town – one main street a hundred meters long that has all of the commercial activity – two pocket supermarkets, a couple small clothing stores, a supply store for walkers, a bakery, a dollar store, a half dozen bars/eateries, a few albergues, and one hotel.  There is a pharmacy and a few more bars on another street, but that is it.

We are in another good hotel right on the Camino.  It is situated on the corner of a tiny town square, and we have the room immediately above the bar, overlooking the square and the Camino.    At 8 o’clock the bars started serving pintxos and the town converged onto the main street.  Where it had been filled with pilgrims all day, now they are all snuggled in their beds, and it is time for the locals to play.  There is a very high noise level.  Another long night in the offing.

Viana, like most of the other Camino towns (and probably like other towns in Europe of the time), was built as a walled city, and the city gates and much of the walls remain.  I read a manuscript (in translation) by a 16^th century Italian sometime priest who walked the Camino from Rome to Santiago a couple times – a startling accomplishment considering the distances.  He had to make it to each town before the town gates were closed for the night, otherwise he would be forced to find accommodations outside.  Once inside the town, he had to find the local bishop to get his papers signed, giving him the freedom of the town for the night.  He needed this a) so he could use the church to say his offices, being a priest, and b) find a place to sleep.  I haven’t seen it mentioned anywhere but I wonder if this requirement is the origin of the Pilgrim’s Passport that we carry, and get stamped each day to prove our pilgrimage.  Your hotel or any church that is open will stamp it, and safe to say, so will most bars.

Once again the massive town church has the impressive baroque retablo – all ornate carvings and gilt.  A masterpiece of woodcarving and gilding.

Vic’s detached toenail, although very sore, is not stopping her from walking – more like hobbling – and she intends to forego the cab and try the 8 or 9 km we need to traverse tomorrow.  I can only sympathise.