The Camino continues!

Well, it has been a while since I updated the blog and a lot has happened, more than I can write in a page or so. On Saturday I said goodbye to my great new Spanish friends. It was a spectacular goodbye. We ate together, talked about life, and laughed a lot. Those new friends – Luis, Pep, Juan, and Jaime, are great, and I am glad to meet so many new people.

I walked on, meeting people along the way and stopping to spend some time with them. One of them is Grant, a British guy searching for a new life of adventures. We hit it off. I met Danni, from Granada, who convinced me that Andalucia in southern Spain may just be the best part of the country. After I finish el Camino de Santiago, I will be headed there to walk and so I will see. Another new friend, Yenny, and I talked a long time about her native Santa Cruz in Bolivia. I spent a month or so there in 2004 and it is where Che Guevara was killed and is buried.

Two days ago it began to rain all day, and hard. The temperatura dropped to just above freezing. I had walked for 9 days straight. My feet hurt and it was time for me to take a day off and I had arrived at just the right place, a hamlet called Tosantos. I bécame friends with the man who was running the albergue, Lluis. You can stay for free and meals are served family style and so I made an extra effort to clean the plates. My day off was a really well-needed break and today I am back on the camino, refreshed.

Good friends, good times, good camino!

El Camino de Santiago is proving to be a great time. I have met some wonderful people, walked through sites I never knew existed, and eaten some damn good food.

I have been hiking and spending time most with four Spaniards – Luis, Jamie, Josep, and Juan.

Luis is a great man. He is a paternal figure to me and has a gentle vibe about him. He is from the city of Murcia on the Mediterranean coast and as well as having a lot of wisdom, raises two kids and works as a recreation director for the Mayor’s office of Murcia.

Jaime is from Madrid and about my age, a recent university graduate in computer engineering. Soon he will be moving to Finland for work. He has been teaching me all about Spanish political structure as well as comparing Spanish culture with American. He speaks both English and German quite well and I am impressed!

Juan and Josep are from the area of the country known as Catalunia and thus might resent being called Spaniards before being called Catalans. Those two are boisterous, loud, fun, brotherly, and even a little bit crazy. To give you a picture: one night in Pamplona, for example, we went out to a tapas bar and had a good time. Juan and I were in a boisterous conversation and in mid-sentence, he pushed out his shoulder and asked me to check if anything had dropped onto it. I looked it over, and right at that moment, he went to grab my family jewels!

That same night, encountering an attractive female fellow pilgrim about my age who was needing to leave the trail due to leg pain, Juan and Josep informed her that I was a physical therapist specializing in holistic healing.

OK.

She wanted me to heal her.

While Juan and Josep had a certain type of physical therapy in mind for me to perform that did not quite involve holistic healing, I could not bring myself to act that unscrupulously. I do actually know a very small amount of holistic medicine based on my work with traditional healers in Ecuador and I used this as well as some understanding of personal development/psychology to work with her. It turned out well and while not healed completely of her physical ailment, she told me that it was a night of greater peace than she had felt in years. I was glad to be a part of that and I am proud of myself for handing the situation in an ethical way.

I am loving speaking Spanish again (Castilian in Spain given that there are four languages here) and feel really good about my abilities. I have not been trying to integrate the Spanish accent or the small difference in grammatical structure for one verb form than I am used to but rather to pick up some Spanish colloquialisms. My new Spanish friends have been a great help and I have learned the following expressions “Yo soy la leche!” (comparable to “I’m the shit!” in the US). The word “cojonudo” is a vulgar way to say that someone is fabulous, “Que maja” is to say “That’s cool!” and a “mona” is a girl who is attractive with her personality being her biggest selling point :-).

Given that I have made so many friends and have enjoyed the social aspect of el Camino so much, I have admittedly been feeling frustration about the lack of time I have to myself and to my own experience. There are always people who want to walk with me and the hostel is one big social event. I’ve had little time for introspection, and knowing myself as someone who is as introverted as I am extroverted, I need this. And if I don’t have it, well, I get rather irritable around people and tune them out to some degree.

There is lots more I could write but the library here is closing and I must be off to the albergue to share in a communal meal!

P.S. that one picture actually is an 800 year old human skeleton being excavated in Pamplona. 

My first days on el Camino

In the morning I pulled myself up and made my way to the pilgrim office in St. Jean Pied de Port. The volunteer, thinking I would not make it in time to Roncesvalles, tried to push me out the door saying in his barely comprehensible French accent “you must hurry up!” “it is obligatory it go now!” “go now young man!” Then he stamped my pilgrim passport which is necessary to stay in the hostels. OK. Thanks.

Off I go.

Most of the first day is uphill crossing the Pyrenees. It goes through Basque Country. Basque people do not consider themselves French or Spanish and believe they should have their own homeland. They speak a language called Euskera which is the only language in the world that cannot be traced to any other language. It is a linguistic and anthropological mystery. It does not sound like any other language I’ve heard before. The language was banned in Spain until the end of the Franco dictatorship in the late 1970s. You can notice a Basque house by the fact that it will be white with red shutters.

The trail follows a winding country road through the mountains. Like most of the country roads I encountered in France, in the USA we would call it a “path” rather than a road. Cars coming in opposite directions need to swerve to the side to avoid hitting each other. Every hour or so you hear animal bells and a huge flock of goats, sheep, or horses come charging down the road, making it necessary to find a place to jump off to the side. Immediately.

On that topic I set a personal lifetime record today. It has only a little to do with walking. I saw more variants of animal feces than I have in one day walk than on any other trail. Ever. Perhaps this may seem of little interest to you but one has to pass the time in an innovative fashion while hiking. I saw at least 8 different kinds! Some of them I could identify as horse, cow, goat, geese, and sheep, and others I am not so sure.

Anyway.

Arriving at Roncesvalles, it was so nice to finally be in Spain!

I made friends quickly with 4 Spanish pilgrims and the next morning we set off together, stopping at every bar on the route. It was nice to be in this great country, meeting great people, and doing a great activity. Great? Great.

Although there is lots more to tell, my eyes are drooping and I need to sleep.

More to come soon!

925 kilometers, 5 rides, and 10 hours later...

924 km, around 10 hours, and 5 rides later I was in St. Jean Pied de Port.

I met a whole host of characters on my hitchhiking adventures. Even without knowing French it was easier than I could have imagined and I never had to wait more than 10 minutes for a ride.

One man drove me 40 kilometers out of his way to take me to Grenoble. I was picked up by a truck driver who bought me coffee, gave me lunch and drove me six hours. My next ride in Toulouse were two young women returning from a trip to Amsterdam. In Pau, a kind older lady gave me a ride out of her way to a small town. Finally, three French hippie guys took me the rest of the way to St. Jean Pied de Port. We somehow managed to communicate with a mixture of English, Spanish, and the few phrases of French I knew.

France really is a great country with wonderful people.

By then it was evening and I improvised a camping spot in a vacant field.

French food really is that good.

French food really is that good. Yes, that good.

By that good I mean that Monday became Tuesday, Tuesday became Wednesday, Wednesday became Thursday, and I really will leave tomorrow!

Spending time with my friend Guillaume and his family, whom I haven’t seen in almost two years, has been wonderful and I think a delay in my departure day to Spain was meant to be. We’ve gotten a chance to do some fun things – hiking, cycling, walking around the historic center of the city of Annecy, meeting interesting people, and most importantly, eating every traditional dish from the Rhône-Alpes region. He is one of my best friends and I am glad to have people like him in my life.  After I finish my hikes of el Camino de Santiago and the GR7 in Spain, I will be returning to his house in France to spend Christmas.

According to an unscientific survey conducted within the past week in the Rhône-Alpes region of France, the most common stereotype of Americans is that we get home from work in the evening, sit on the couch and watch TV with a Big Mac in our right hand and a Budweiser in our left hand. Then, when we're done, we go and eat some more. I’m not sure that this really captures American culture but it doesn’t seem so far off from your average Joe Six Pack or Joe the Plumber to me. At least our refrigerators smell better (there is no reblochon, tomme, camembert, or the worst offender epoysse French cheese to contend with!)

Did you know that in France roads are less wide so they make less impact on nature, there are 300 year old houses that are not even conserved and just left to live in, there is the most awe-inspiring 360 degree radial view atop a mountain 20 minutes from Bloye, everybody here wants Barack Obama to win the U.S. elections, French people actually do shower on a regular basis but do not believe in drying their clothing in machines and prefer to leave it on racks, and that Brigitte Osterberger is the best cook in the entire country? ;-)

Tomorrow I depart for Saint Jean Pied de Port on the border of Spain to start el Camino de Santiago. Given that I am hitchhiking the 925 km, I am not quite sure when I will arrive. SinceI speak almost no French and have never hitchhiked such a distance, this experience may be almost as big an adventure as the hike itself! Guillaume assured me that sticking out your thumb in France is not so taboo as in the US and that cars are happy to pick up smiling, clean-shaven young men. Supposedly even older people hitchhike and nothing is thought to be wrong with it. He helped outline my route and made me signs. I will be passing through the cities of Annecy, Grenoble, Nimes, Montpellier, and Toulouse on my way to the Spanish border. ">You can see my hitchhiking route here in Google Maps. 

May the games begin :-).

Off to France First Class!

As I write this, the plane is backing out of the runway of Newark International Airport. I am sitting in the first class section sipping a glass of pineapple juice. I am flying Air India to Paris, where I will meet my friend Guillaume before I trickle down to Spain.

My antics in the airport led to a serendipitous start to my adventure. Arriving at the baggage check-in a mere 35 minutes before my plane’s scheduled departure I jokingly asked the Latina baggage attendant in Spanish if she was from India (As an aside, you may be wondering why the hell I am flying Air India in the first place when my destination is Paris. Economics, my friends, pure economics – a one way ticket to Paris was only $193.50 + tax.) As we complete our conversation about our nationalities, maximum allowed baggage weight, and the length of the flight, she hands me a boarding pass printed in Hindi and English. Glancing at it as I walk away, I note that it says “Executive Class.” Score one for the Spanish and the smile :-). Getting the chance to sit first class is something my broke ass has never done before!

As I hurriedly make my way through security I notice there is a currency exchange. Remembering that I had intended to spend all my U.S. currency by the time I arrived at the airport, I reached into my pocket to see if there was anything I’d forgotten. A bunch of credit cards, Blockbuster membership card, a piece of lint, and $2.52. Alright, that’s something. At least enough to cash in I think to myself. I offer the attendant my money, he returns a one euro coin and $1.32. I don’t want to be walking around with U.S money in my pocket and so I give it back to the agent and tell him to buy something nice for the wife and kids :-).  A friendly girl named Jackie thinks this is funny and we laugh about it together, making friends.

I hop on the plane and am greeted with a hot moist towel, a free newspaper and toiletry kit, and a shitload of leg room. Also before takeoff I make a new friend named Rafi who is a management consultant in Bombay and New York and we talk about the joys and pitfalls of work, relationships, and travel.

So anyhow, moral of this story is… keep the positive vibe up as I travel and hike about. Be light, don’t take it too seriously, don’t think so much, enjoy myself, laugh at the insanity of life. Even if it feels like utter shite sometimes. What goes out will all come back in.

With just $193.50 and my mind and heart in the right space, I might even get a first class ticket and make some new friends this way.

No reason to spend my energy trapped in fear when there is so much to laugh about.

Seriously. 

See you in France. 

Ramblings on the adventure

These past three years working as the youth program coordinator at Common Ground in Oberlin, Ohio have been some of the best in my life. I learned a lot about myself, how I relate to others socially, and how passionate I am about working with kids. It has been a wonderful experience for me and found myself more committed to my work there than to anything else in the past. I could say that it was difficult to leave, and while there was fear in making the decision, now that I have left I see already it was the right decision! 

External change can be an easy and positive metaphor for internal movement. I started the chapter of my life at Common Ground as an adventurer, fresh from a seven month hike of the Appalachian and Florida trails. A lot of people came into my life in the past three years and affected me. I understood what it meant to be part of something in a way that I never had before. I understood what it meant to be deeply committed to a goal greater than myself. I started to feel trapped. I started to feel like there was more out there that I wanted to see. And so it was a good time to walk away. Indeed at some point in the future I will settle down and live a "normal" life. But this moment is not the time for that. So I leave Common Ground an adventurer. 

One of the special people that came into my life in the past three years is a little boy named Branden. Branden is a camper at the summer camp I worked at. One of the reasons Branden is such a special kid is that as an eight year old he embodies the aliveness of being a child. He is unreserved, does not care what the world might think of him (or at least acts from that place), has boundless energy, hides nothing, and is curious about the Wild! In a sense, adventuring for me is stepping into my child leadership. 

A new friend Michael gave me a book of wisdom last night by Paulo Coelho. I love this quote: "The Warrior of the Light views life with tenderness and determination...He stands before a mystery...every so often he says to himself: This life is absolutely insane. Yes, life is insane. But the great wisdom of the Warrior lies in choosing his insanity wisely."