19 April at Monasterio de Alloz

A week ago as I walked up to the Monasterio de San Jose de Alloz I had no idea what to expect.
I couldn’t even work out which door to knock at!
I didn’t know that a week later the words of the Gloria would be rattling round my head replacing thoughts for much of the time.
I didn’t know that I would get sick of Gregorian chants by Day Three and have come to appreciate them more by Day Six.
I didn’t know I would get to sleep until 7:15 this morning and be woken by the bells and have to scramble to pull almost all my clothes on because it was only 2 degrees outside and I have to walk the full length of the long building OUTSIDE to get to the chapel – I felt just like Maria from the Sound of Music rushing to arrive in time.
I didn’t know the nun in charge of hospitality would chitter chatter when she delivered lunch and dinner, which meant it wasn’t quite as silent as I had thought it might be.
I didn’t know there would be two other pilgrims for a meal or two each so we spoke a little Spanish and German as we ate.

I didn’t know I would become quite fond of the hospitality nun, a wee lady who reminds me of Dr Seuss’s Cat in the Hat.
I didn’t know I would also become fond of the nun who would smile at me and sneak a wee wave at me from under her dangling sleeves as she entered the chapel.
I didn’t know I would only see the nuns in the chapel and that they would be so serious.
I didn’t know there would only be nine nuns and that they would not all attend all the services.
I didn’t know there were So. Many. Prayers. (Who would’ve thought?)
I didn’t know you would get a whiff of the wine when the cover was taken off, and that only the priest would drink it.

I didn’t know I would learn so much church-speak. But I should have guessed my linguistic brain would be working overtime. I didn’t know I would learn when to stand and sit and cross and bow and end up knowing when to say Amen.

I didn’t know today I would head out for a walk, knowing exactly where I was going and as I looked around would know every road I could see and each village and building, and what was on the other side of each hill. I would know where there was a growling dog and a scarecrow and which path had horseshoe marks on it. I would know where the chicken farm was and the dam. I would remember exploring and following a sealed road that turned into a dirt road that turned into a narrow track that turned into a meadow….and that I scrambled down the hillside to cross a proper road and continue on another dirt road. (Thanks to Organic Maps I was never really in any danger of being lost)

Vídeo from road

I didn’t know I would meet the postie nearly every day as she drove from village to village to delivering mail and feeding stray cats.
I didn’t know I would find myself bird watching.
I didn’t know there would be so many poppies.
Or that the sky would be so blue.

I didn’t know I would look up today from a stony road I have walked a few times and notice in the distance, the town I walked from before I was here.

I wasn’t sure what the food would be like, apart from obviously being Spanish.

I didn’t know this would be a time of rest and refreshment.
I didn’t know I would discover from friends at home that there is an appetite for silent retreats and prayer retreats.
I didn’t know I would end up imagining what more silence might be like.

I didn’t know I would enjoy this place so much

Video starting with bells

A week in a monastery: