Author: Rachael

This is the primary reason for no words in the blog post today. They got all used up chatting in the afternoon and over dinner.
French speaking Canadians, Americans, Arctic Norwegian, Swede, Brazilian, Slovenian and a lot of laughter.

Speaking of dinner….

Plus soup and bread to start, ice cream to finish and red wine if you wanted. Couldn’t finish it all.

The day in pictures:

Waiting for photos to upload, I might as well find some more words.
Very cold start, just 4 degrees. Cold wind all day.
Achilles understandably a bit unhappy….I was meant to do 9km yesterday and did 12….today was meant to be just under 12 and logged in at 16.5 with a climb that even though last time it caused the kids to say, “Was that it?“, today required some walking on tiptoes and then walking backwards and finally stopping for breaks.

Head was all over the place…contemplating the mass I went to last night with all its smells and bells and parading with banners and responsive singing… not enjoying having to listen to the conversation of folks walking behind me (so I pulled over and let them pass)…went into the church at Zariquiegui (isn’t that the coolest name?) and sat in a pew listening to the piped music and tears rolled down my cheeks (I don’t know why, I just let them fall)… simultaneously interested in the X shaped cross on one of the pictures in the church… noticed dew drops on grasses and birds singing and giant ants…realised I would not have walked a path like this if I had been home …captivated by wind whistling in the trees and pushing the fields of wheat so that they looked like waves rippling… crossed waterways without getting wet and no kids here to appreciate the feat (more than once, what´s more)… grand expansive vistas…

Oh look, uploads are done…

Oh that’s right, I remember now.

The first day back on camino often brings that sentence to mind.

snoring * sniffing * snorting * farting * rustling sleeping bags * squeaking bunks * sighing * shuffling slides on flagstones * flip flopping flip flops * whirring zips * beaming torches right in your eyes

All those things that go with camino communal sleeping.
Until just after 5am when one lady called out, “Quiet!” Ironically, that´s what woke me. A few minutes later she clarified, “Would you stop snoring!” The snorer was oblivious, the rest of us hoped for more sleep. Which might have happened except that the SnorePolice insisted more loudly this time, “Be quiet!”. She then tried clapping and banging on something. Surely this woke everyone else who might have continued to sleep. I hope so, because she then decided to talk….not whisper, but TALK. Which annoyed someone else, who called out, “Be quiet!” The Talker took as much notice of the admonition as the Snorer had done of hers. I lay in my bunk thinking about different types of people (and typed up some quick notes to make sure I relayed the story correctly should I eventually choose to do so, which clearly I have)
I must say a little drama like that has never happened on one of my caminos before.

Oh that’s right, I remember now…

hundreds.of.years.old buildings oozing character and history, holders of ancient stories * church bells * cobblestones * cars and busses automatically giving way to humans standing near the road *

Yes, this morning I started walking. Just a few kilometers up the road in order to keep tomorrow´s walk short enough to keep my Achilles happy. As the albergue we had stayed in last time was not yet open for the season, I took a bus back to Pamplona for a second night. The plan is to bus back to start tomorrow´s walk where I ended today´s.

Getting off the bus was a bit of a lottery because I had no idea where I was, but stumbled upon some memories from last time we were here.

Dont be fooled by the bright blue sky. It´s only 5 degrees Celsius and I am grateful to have a fleece vest AND fleece jacket and merino gloves and rain coat. I am wearing them all.

Back at the albergue…

I spy my box.that.did.not.make.it.to.spain.yesterday.morning perched on a windowsill. Most grateful.

I make lunch for today and tomorrow and still have enough salad left over to share with a couple making noodles. Most grateful.

Buying for one is a little more tricky than buying in bulk, but when 200grams of brie only costs €1,79 you just figure you’ll get a good dose of calcium! Most grateful.
And do you see that biscuit? That´s what you get when you say, “I dońt know what that is, but I want to try it” When the baker explained it was a “cinnamon biscuit with crispy pork, but dońt worry it´s sweet”, I nearly opted for the chocolate one next to it…but how could I say no when he went on to describe it as a local delicacy? It was big and dry and did taste of cinnamon. The pork gave it crackle rather than flavour. Not sure I need to try another.

Now I know I said I wouldn’t take videos, but I managed to…

Vídeo in the square

And one more

Vídeo bell tower

(question: do the photos show as full pictures or are they just squares? I am seeing squares which in some cases miss half the picture)

Getting to the walk added a few first world concerns I would not have encountered if I’d stayed home. I wouldn’t have fallen asleep on the floor in Singapore and then woken to discover the departure gate had been changed, requiring a top speed race from one end of the terminal to the other (and it’s much bigger than Auckland!) I arrived just in time to walk straight through security, onto the plane and they shut the door behind me.

If I’d stayed home I wouldn’t have had the excitement of pretty significant turbulence that even required the staff to buckle up for a while. Being on a flight with people letting out involuntary gasps (and the dramatic ones squealing), with drinks spilling and the landing bouncing along the runway is up there with roller coaster rides as far as I’m concerned. Firmly on my Do Not Do This Ever Again list.

If I’d stayed home I wouldn’t have been standing in front of a sign which pointed one way to my departure gate in Istanbul and the opposite way to a short connection time security screening. Having only an hour felt tight to me, but I didn’t know if that officially constituted “short”. I took the risk and found myself with what seemed like half the folks from our totally full plane, some with only 10 minutes to make their flight, others trying to push themselves to the front of the queue, everyone emanating concern.

If I’d stayed home I wouldn’t have been one of the first at the baggage carousel…and I wouldn’t have been the last one left standing there when it stopped either. I might have made it to Madrid, but the box I packed with my hiking poles, pocket knife, nail clippers and a big bag of homemade muesli didn’t make it past Istanbul. Fingers crossed we’ll be reunited.

If I’d stayed home I wouldn’t have got to go to the Free Art Gallery today. Hmmm. Due to taking Quite Some Time to locate my box and file a report I didn’t get to go to the art gallery even though I was so close.

If I’d stayed home I wouldn’t have received a message from my empathetic son saying how he’d been feeling sad all day for me going away on my own. Any ideas on how to explain that this is a treat?

If I’d stayed home I wouldn’t have got to marvel at the mountains of northern Greece still topped with snow or the deep blue of the sea surrounding southern Italy or the patchwork of Spanish fields in every shade of green you can imagine interspersed with some bright yellow ones and newly-ploughed brown ones stretching out to the horizon which was marked by more hills still holding on to the recent snow.

If I’d stayed home I wouldn’t have got to ask the man at the information desk if I needed to buy a ticket (I had a vague recollection that you could travel for free on the train from the airport if you had a ticket for another journey, but I didn’t want to try it out and discover I was wrong!) It felt satisfying to have him answer in Spanish rather than think, “She may have asked in Spanish, but we’ll get this done much quicker if I just answer her in English”. Ditto for the security guard who came to my assistance when I must have been looking as lost as I actually was, trying to find where the train left from.

If I’d stayed home I wouldn’t have been typing this on a train speeding through the constantly changing countryside complete with castle and windmills at 2:30 in the morning NZ time two days after I’d left. Given how long it’s been, I’m feeling surprisingly chipper if you overlook the constant yawning and urge to close my eyes right now. I will certainly be ready to curl up on my bunk in five or six hours, grateful to have made it to Pamplona.

PS I fell asleep on the train and when I woke it was raining. For half a second I considered taking a taxi to the albergue, but I donned my raincoat and as I walked up the hill to the albergue church bells rang out heralding (in my head) the beginning of my walk.

Halfway to Singapore it finally felt like this was actually happening.

I had grand plans for Singapore Airport….do a transit tour, see the waterfall, and eat at the staff cafeteria, which is open to the public.

But I wasn’t hungry, couldn’t bear the thought of going out into the 33 degrees and high humidity, and it turned out you have to clear immigration to see the waterfall…so I found a free couch and took a nap, trying not to worry that my flight to Istanbul has been delayed by an hour which leaves only half an hour to make my connecting flight to Madrid.

Do not worry about what is out of your control. Do not worry about difficulties at home. Do not worry about tomorrow.

Speaking of home, there was a message informing me all the chores have been allocated for the week and two nights worth of dinners cooked. There was also a photo of a sparkling bench.

All that while I sat and watched a movie and a half and stitched and wrote 110 questions and ate pretty delicious food and reread the many wishes from family and friends that left my heart overflowing.

I’ve now nabbed a nice spot on the carpet for a lying down nap before the next flight.

The niggly nerves that announced themselves yesterday afternoon will be banished as I get stuck in to the Last Minute List of Things To Do.

Estoy un poco nerviosa….at least español is popping into my head!

I might be taking just a 6kg backpack (and taking it as a carry-on), which doesn’t sound like much to non-walking travellers, especially for nearly three months, but the full truth is that’s not all I’m taking.

When you’re travelling on your own, security is All Your Own Responsibility. We have always carried money and passports and phone in a bumbag, which I wore at all times (yes, even to bed at night on caminos in shared lodgings). When I took it off to go for a shower, I would give it to one of the children to hold until I returned. Every year there are stories of pilgrims leaving their valuables unattended on their bunk and coming back to find they have vanished. So this time, being on my own, I wanted something that would be easy to keep on my person At All Times, even in the shower.
I could have come up with something lighter, but I recycled some old jeans to make a wee bag with internal zipped compartments for credit card, money stash, passport and phone, and an outer zipped pocket for the day’s cash. Even though a little chapstick could easily be slipped in a number of other places, I made a wee elasticated pouch for it so it will always be handy. It was a very satisfying project – all stitched entirely by hand.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not taking a bumbag! I have downsized from when I was carrying gear for four kids as well as myself, but I’m still taking one.

Amazing what you can fit in it! All my creative luxuries along with a pocket knife, spork and chewing gum (for the flights):

Journal/pens/pencils/watercolour pastels/watercolours/ink/stamps/viewfinder/pencil sharpener/clip
Knitting
Crossstitch
Battery pack/charger/Keyboard (note to self:remember charging cable)

That keyboard is such a nifty wee thing – makes writing on an old phone so much easier. The phone sits in the cradle but I couldn’t take a photo of it in there…obviously.

All of these things would actually fit easily in my backpack, but I like to distribute the weight AND I can leave my pack in the albergue and go out with just these things if I want to.

So there’s another 2kg!

I know of people who walk with packs weighing under 4kg….and me? I’m a 6kg girl. For a start, the pack itself weighs a kilo and a half, which is quite heavy when you consider you can get an ultralight one for a third of that, but I don’t mind, because it fits me perfectly and is so very very comfortable. Plus it has pockets in all the right places – one on the side for a drink bottle – one on the other side for toothpaste and toothbrush (so I don’t have to dig through everything whenever I want to brush my teeth) – one on the hip belt for pole tips – one on the very top for loo paper – one tucked under the top to keep my Theraband from getting tangled up – a nice long one at the front, which is perfect for keeping a paper copy of accommodation details and my spare sketchbooks not-too-dog-eared – and one for a hydration bladder, which I won’t need this time, but can slip a surgical mask or two into it. Just in case. A sleeping bag compartment at the bottom, which has its own zip, is perfect for keeping all my clothes in (except for the raincoat, which has its own special spot elsewhere).
And of course, there’s the main compartment. In sunny weather the raincoat sits at the base of that, an insurance policy hopefully to be forgotten, and if rain is threatening the raincoat goes at the top, or is even attached to the outside of the pack – it has snazzy elastics to secure it to the pack even if you’re not wearing it. Then everything else slots in – the first aid kit – the bathroom and laundry kit – sleeping bag and silk liner – slides in a drawstring bag (which also doubles as a carry bag for taking stuff to the shower or for taking clothes to the laundry sink or for carrying groceries from wherever they are bought – and on one occasion it became a very satisfactory pillow when stuffed with clothes and wrapped in a fleece jacket).

Now, about that wardrobe compartment. It doesn’t need to be too big, because I don’t take a lot of clothes, although I *am* taking more this time than I did on my last spring walk when it rained every day for over a week at the beginning. I’m treating myself to an extra pair of undies (4) and walking socks (3) this time, and a fleece vest to wear whilst walking if it’s cold. Apart from that I have a hiking skirt with integrated tights and a long sleeved shirt. Silk scarf, buff, merino flip-top mitten/gloves, raincoat, sun hat as required. After walking I have options! My girls have taught me you need options. If required, there are thermal long johns, a merino long sleeved top, a fleece jacket and merino socks. Some people would say there’s overkill in that list, but I remember the week-in-the-rain and how cold we were at the end of the day and I consider every single piece has earnt its place in my pack. With or without those items, there can be pants with a little top or a tunic with them both or the tunic worn alone as a dress when it’s hot. Options, I tell you.

Some people switch between two sets of clothes – wash one when they finish walking each day and put the new set on to wear for the rest of that day and for walking the next, but I prefer to have one set for walking, which gets washed each day and one set for “after walking”, which doesn’t need such frequent washing. I have found this to be particularly useful when it’s cold and wet and clothes don’t dry overnight. It’s so nice to be able to look forward to putting on dry clothes at the end of the day.

A walk in the rain last week prompted me to pop in a spare pair of insoles for my shoes (shout out to Shoe Science Mt Eden for giving me spares and for spending a great deal of time and effort trying to find the right shoes for me)…..and discovering that tendonitis sufferers are more likely to get DVT prompted me to buy a pair of compression socks too – neither item I’ve ever taken before, but they could prove to be beneficial. The sun hat, a new much-more-shade-producing version than I’ve used in the past, might turn out to be overly optimistic. We’ll see.

PS For the one person who reads this, who likes details….
First Aid Kit:
1 gauze dressing
1 nonstick dressing
1 tegaderm
1 packet steristrips
3 strips regular fabric plaster
1 alcohol swab
16 ibuprofen
16 paracetamol
1/2 tube quickeze
Nonwoven surgical tape
Micropore tape
Elastic bandage
Titree and lavender oil
Sunscreen
Ventolin

Laundry Kit:
1/2 bar Sunlight soap
8 nappy pins
length of cord
needle & thread

Bathroom Kit:
Muslin towel
Shampoo bar
Rosehip oil
Nail clippers
Emery board
Tweezers
Cotton buds
Comb
Hair ties

First Big Question: what’s going to happen to your sourdough starter that you lovingly tend to Every Single Day?
Plan A was to leave instructions for a once a week feeding, but then I decided to make life as easy as possible for those left at home and came up with…
Plan B. Actually, truth be told, my starter got overly excited one night and jumped out of its jar, spreading all over the bench. In the morning a good portion was dehydrated, so I scooped up the crackly bits and have hidden them at the back of the fridge, from whence I’ll rehydrate them on my return. Thanks for asking.

Second Big Question: “What are you going to do all day if you can’t walk far?”
That’s a legitimate question I’ve been asked a few times. Although I didn’t need to know (I was content to go away and see what unfolded), I did start to wonder.
On other caminos we have spent a good portion of the day walking – eight or ten hours would not be unusual, then by the time you’ve sourced food, done your washing, chatted with fellow pilgrims and uploaded a blogpost, the day would be done. This time will surely be different (for a start, I won’t have kids with me to do the socialising and cooking while I do the “work” of blogging – lol)

• 8 hours: {try to} sleep (most likely in a dormitory with snorers and early-morning-plastic-bag-rustlers)
• 4 hours: walking (there’s half the day gone already with those two things)
• 1/2 hour exercises (rehab doesn’t stop)
• 1 hour: housekeeping (finding accommodation, shower, washing clothes by hand, grocery shopping)
• 1 hour: food prep/eating (hopefully practising Spanish at the same time)
• 1 hour: Bible reading (also in Spanish)
• 1 hour: sketching
• 1 hour: travel journal/blogging
• 2 hours: home ed reflecting and writing
• 1 hour: seeking out someone Spanish to talk to
• 1 hour: cross stitch (if I’m on a roll and the opportunity is available, there could be more Spanish while I do this)
• 1 hour: contacting home & reading the guidebook in preparation for the following day
• 1 1/2 hours: who knows? how wonderful to have a gentle day full of things I love and then still have time left over for whatever may turn up

Thank you if you asked this question; I am now looking forward even more to what is ahead than when it was just a nebulous undertaking – of course, that ^^ isn’t a daily plan, but a range of possibilities, and the spaciousness to know there is time for it all brings a sense of peace and expectation.

Third Big Question: “Are you and Dad ok, like, do you still love each other, you’re not getting a divorce are you?”
Thanks for asking, and thanks for being concerned. When I hear peers mentioning that they feel invisible to their kids, I feel blessed to have kids, who, firstly, see us as people, and, secondly, care about us….and enough to ask hard questions.
There’s no denying that the last few years have been hard. Thankfully, for us it has led to growth, and a greater understanding of and appreciation for each other.
We HAVE talked about
“what if you love being in a monastery so much you don’t want to come home?”
Not an option! My commitment to our marriage trumps that even if it happens.
“what if you enjoy living at home without me?”
Lucky we know we enjoy living together as well. We can do both.
It’s love that gives me the blessing to go away for an extended time to rest and reflect and relinquish responsibilities….and it will be love that brings me back.

Once upon a time a very long time ago when I was in Standard Four my teacher introduced me to the Middle Ages and while I wasn’t much inspired by the jousting, the monks sitting in monasteries copying beautiful texts appealed. I decided when I grew up I’d be a monk.
Once upon a time quite a long time ago when I was a young newly-wed living in Poland, my husband and I had a friend, who took us on a trip out of the city. He took us to a monastery and told me I had to wait in the car. No females allowed. I decided I wouldn’t be a monk after all.
Once upon a time not so long ago I walked some caminos and whenever possible I stayed at monasteries, thinking perhaps monking might have been a great profession after all (too late now I have eight kids, I guess!)
Here’s a sampling of some I have stayed at:

Sobrado Abbey
If you click on the name you’ll be taken to a lovely little website giving photos and a short history of this very old place…and this link has some videos that allow you to walk through the monastery yourself from the comfort of wherever you are currently sitting…complete with chanting monks. I might be going back to this one…it just depends how my Achilles hold up, but if I can’t manage the Big Hills in Galicia, I could hop on a bus and go here instead. It is a truly awe-inspiring place. (first picture above)

Mosteiro do Vairao
In Portugal, this place was just being started as an albergue when we were there. The very enthusiastic lady running the show had plans for a camino museum on the premises and showed us around, asking us to imagine what she could see under all the dust.

Monasterio de la Soterrana, Santa Maria las Real de Nieva
I stayed around the corner from this one, given that staying there was not an option, but in the afternoon I took a wee walk to it and wandered around the cloister.

Monasterio de Santa Clara, Medina de Rioseco
On the internet there are photos of beautiful buildings and artworks, but no-one staying there was allowed anywhere except the albergue, which was spartan at best.

Convento de San Antonio de Herbon
Quite the opposite here – we were taken on a fascinating tour of the whole place, were invited to participate in mass and were fed a hearty dinner.

Monasterio de Cornellana
We were there in 2018, which in the greater scheme of things didn’t seem too far away from the thousandth anniversary, which is this year (2024). (second picture above)

Monastery of Santa Maria de Oseira
We stayed here on a very hot day and inside it was perishingly cold….I changed my mind about wanting to be a monk….and the rule of silence, which was enforced, convinced the kids it had never been a good idea – although I thought it was pretty peaceful! There was a magnificent library that made me think it would be worth staying in spite of the cold (pictured above).

The fourth picture is the Convento de San Anton, which was much too close to our previous night’s accommodation when we walked past it in 2014, but this time I’ll be making a point of hoping to nab one of the twelve bunks and enjoying the night without electricity or running water!

The last picture is the monastery at Samos – I didn’t actually walk there on our first camino – I zipped past in a taxi with the two youngest girls, en route to the hospital to have Tessa’s broken arm set in a cast! Hopefully this time will be less dramatic and I’ll get to stay a night.

Sometime during the past nearly-thirty-years of incessant kid-chatter, I became fond of the idea of doing a silent retreat. Where better to do it than in a monastery? So I have booked myself in to Monasterio Santa Maria de San Jose, one of the Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance. Also known as Monasterio de Alloz, which sounds less daunting, their website is most welcoming:

Lugar de silencio de oracion, de paz y de encuentro con Dios

(Place of silence of prayer, of peace and encounter with God)

They seem to appreciate rich imagery too:

Las Escrituras son jardines en los que podemos libar la Palabra de Dios

(The Scriptures are gardens in which we can drink the Word of God)

So I’m going to do a wee detour on Day Five of my camino (God-willing), and I’ll spend a week with Madre Rosa, with whom I’ve already had delightful communication, and the rest of the sisters, participating in their rhythms of prayer, and discovering if I like silence as much as I imagine I would.

cross at my achilles
but there’s little point in that
so turn attention
to needlepoint
the project I had planned
to stitch one day
when I walk the camino Frances
(given that the game is based on that route)
so I’ll stitch it this year
and one day
as-yet-unborn grandkids will be able
to play the game to remember {grandma/granny/nana/nanny}
as she walks all the other routes

It’s actually quite an interesting game, and pretty old; the earliest recorded mention of the game was in a book of sermons by the Dominican friar Gabriele da Barletta published in 1480! A version of the game was given as a gift by Grand Duke Francesco I de Medici of Tuscany to King Philip II of Spain sometime between 1574 and 1587 – even that was a Very Long Time Ago. Since then, it has been in production and has even been called the first modern board game. Originally it was a gambling game, but by the 19th century it was being marketed as a children’s game sans the gambling and associated drinking.
There’s a plaza in Logrono with a giant board painted onto the cobblestones…I’ll go and find it when I’m passing through.

For future reference:
Game of the Goose Rules

Game of the Goose Rules
Equipment

The game is played on a spiral shaped board consisting of 63 spaces. There are four differently coloured pieces – often in the shape of a goose and two six-sided dice.

Preparation and Objective

Pieces are placed on the starting space at the outside of the spiral. Highest roll of the dice starts.

The Game of Goose is a simple race game – first person to reach space 63 wins.

Play

Players take turns to roll the dice and moved their piece forward by the sum of the two dice.

• If your first throw is six and three, move to space 26.
• If your first throw is five and four, move to space 53.
• If a piece lands on an enemy piece, the enemy piece is returned to the space that the piece started from in that turn (i.e. the two pieces swap places).
• If a piece lands on a space with a picture of a goose, it moves forward by same amount again. If this causes the piece to land on another goose, it moves forward again in the same way.

The following spaces are called Hazard spaces and are usually illustrated to match their name. If a piece lands on the space indicated, that piece must follow the stated rule.

• 6 – The Bridge – Go to space 12
• 19- The Hotel – Stay for (miss) one turn
• 31- The Well – Wait until someone comes to pull you out – they then take your place
• 42- The Maze -Go back to space 39 (or space 30 in most French games)
• 52- The Prison -Wait until someone comes to release you – they then take your place
• 58- Death -Return your piece to the beginning – start the game again

Winning the Game

To win the game, a piece must land exactly on space 63.

If a player throws too many, the piece counts the extra points backwards from the winning space. If you then land on a goose space, you must continue moving backwards by the amount of your throw until you land on a space with no goose space. If you land on the Death space, you must start again.