Viana – Sept 30, 2016

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.