It was supposedly 6 degrees when I set off this morning…and for me that means wearing my hiking shirt and fleece vest with merino gloves and a buff keep me at a perfect walking temperature, even with the bare legs that come from wearing a short hiking skirt.
But not today.
I stopped in Grañon for a hot chocolate to warm up….
…sketched the church and was surprised by the number of pilgrims who walked straight on past without even poking their noses in, especially given that it is unusual to find an open church and this one was clearly open. I was glad to take a wee adventure inside, including climbing up the uneven stairs at the back to the choir stalls for a great view
I knew I did not have far to go after Grañon and figured I would warm up once I got walking. Not today. I ended up switching out my vest for a jacket, but probably should have kept both on.
I kept reminding myself that I don’t mind wind and cold, it is just WET I prefer not to have to deal with. The wind was interesting to me. The kind of wind I am accustomed to comes in bursts…walking into this one was just like pressing against a door that is jammed shut, and it was a constant blowing pressure. Constant and cold.
I don’t think I saw one pilgrim (and I saw many today) without something pulled across their face. I don’t know about them, but my eyes and nose were streaming, and even now a few hours later I am sniffing nonstop (as are the six other men I am sharing a dorm with – I am thinking it might be a great night for earplugs!)
I am staying in a basic little place that has a courtyard that would be lovely on a warm sunny day
It has a shower that is a strong contender for Smallest Shower Yet Award
A South Korean man came into the room and declared:
“Not good here.”
But we are getting a bed and a three course dinner for the same cost as a bed alone in many other places, so it is worth it to me!
I took a quick walk around the village. It didn’t take long. My impression is that this place does not know if it is upmarket or dilapidated. Maybe you can decide. I suspect it was quite swish two hundred years ago.
The church here is quite famous – that is to say, it has a famous baptismal font. Unfortunately it is only open two days a month, however there is a monument you can look at instead. Not quite the same.
I think the highlight of the day would be either the chat with My Favourite Son Who Lives In Australia…OR…the storks.
Just at the edge of town, next to the river ^^ were three poles topped with stork nests.
Just a little farther on were two tall brick columns similarly adorned
Right as I was looking at it, Mama and Papa Stork stood up, and then one of them swooped upwards and flew off across the wheat fields. I wondered how long it would take to return and was rewarded for waiting. Within ten minutes it came back carrying something that looked to be as big as a rat or mole in its beak. It circled around the tower a couple of times before coming in to land. I wish I could show you the video – what a majestic bird!
There is one other bird I should probably have mentioned while I was at Santo Domingo – the chicken. There is a legend about a young lad being hanged but not dying and a month later when the sheriff was told he made some comment about the kid being as alive as the roast chicken he had just been served for dinner…at which point the chook sprouted wings, stood up and clucked its way around the table. There are various versions of the tale, but most agree on that much. And more or less since then they have kept some chickens in a very fine coop in the church. Not bad going for seven hundred years!
I got to see the current chooks, fine looking white specimens, when I went to mass in the evening. This was not just any mass. There was a choir (women and children), some of the girls who had been handing out bread during the day had stayed dressed up in their regional dress and read some of the prayers, at the end of the service everyone congregated around Santo Domingo’s statue, enthusiastically singing, and then the enormous wooden doors were opened and everyone streamed out through them, instead of the smaller side doors that are usually used.
The choral pieces were divine, the adoration at the tomb, uncomfortable for me. All in all, a special experience to witness.
And this morning when the Bag PickUp Man came to collect backpacks for those pilgrims who don’t like to (or can’t) carry them, the Albergue cleaner nipped out the back and found him one of the unleavened breads, which he appeared most grateful to receive.
Other random photos from today
PS I am wearing thermal long johns and pants, a merino shirt, tunic, top, fleece jacket, fleece vest, buff, scarf and merino gloves…and it is still cold! Everyone else climbed into their sleeping bags for the afternoon, but I can’t lie there doing nothing!
solowalk 2024 