Following one of the Pilgrimage routes to Santiago de Compostela
From Villafranca de los Barros to Torremegia - 28k
Day 10 - 18th April 2010The lovely Mama of the household had washed all our clothes properly (even after I'd made my own stunning attempt in the shower as usual to wash my kit) and put it all out on the lines across the courtyard. Retrieving my washing from the huge pile in one of the downstairs rooms where it had been retrieved from the courtyard overnight before it rained. We were all sat around a big table having breakfast, Richard, Dick and Judy were there and a few new faces like a group of Spaniards I'd been seeing for a few days. One of them made quite an impression on me, Lourdes, if ever there was a reason for continuing this walking lark when sore and in pain, there's a good one, seeing her again. Maria reminded me of Grace Jones, statuesque, quite stern looking but a sweetheart and the guy with the most amazing curly hair I've ever seen, Enrique... (pronounced more like enrick?). I would describe it as being like Marge Simpsons, only grey and white and tied up down his back instead of tall and blue rinsed...
I thanked our hosts profusely after writing in the guestbook my memories of my stay and a glowing recommendation and commented that she had been my Spanish Mother to which I got an even more enthusiastic kis
s and hug goodbye than everyone else did, although she was fastidious in making sure we were all ready and raring for the trail. After a good nights sleep or even after a so-so one and a good breakfast you really do feel amazingly good, spending every day carrying the equivalent of 10-15% of your bodyweight on your back really does get you very fit indeed or knacker you completely, either way you know you've done it when you finish. First thing there can be a few minutes (or hours) warming up period, for me I take it slow and build the pace up gradually during the day, by the afternoon not only do you think you can walk another 20 Miles but you're almost sprinting once you smell or taste the next stop.
s and hug goodbye than everyone else did, although she was fastidious in making sure we were all ready and raring for the trail. After a good nights sleep or even after a so-so one and a good breakfast you really do feel amazingly good, spending every day carrying the equivalent of 10-15% of your bodyweight on your back really does get you very fit indeed or knacker you completely, either way you know you've done it when you finish. First thing there can be a few minutes (or hours) warming up period, for me I take it slow and build the pace up gradually during the day, by the afternoon not only do you think you can walk another 20 Miles but you're almost sprinting once you smell or taste the next stop.The three musketeers are walking together this 
morning mostly, Megan tells me about two recurring dreams she has and after her account of the first has sunk in I feel like this is a great opportunity to lay out my whole philosophy by giving her my take on what her dream means. I set out, without going into details of the dreams as they're personal, how I see the world today and the people in it, what I see coming in the future and why I think that dreams are not prophetic necessarily but some are emotionally charged visions of possibilities and warnings, often cryptic messages and in some cases big hints for what we should fix in our own lives, the things that we should be doing that we aren't and most importantly time to explore a different way of life in our waking hours, to be more authentic. After all haven't you ever remembered a bit of a dream later in the day and only then realised that what you had taken up until now to have been a memory was really part of a dream? It is very wrong to dismiss them as merely the efforts of the concious mind to palm off our problems and imagery of our most recent experiences onto the so called subconscious and let it work them out and decide what to store and what to dispose of. Dreams are just as 'real' as our daily 'reality', if we could move we'd act them out as if we were awake...
morning mostly, Megan tells me about two recurring dreams she has and after her account of the first has sunk in I feel like this is a great opportunity to lay out my whole philosophy by giving her my take on what her dream means. I set out, without going into details of the dreams as they're personal, how I see the world today and the people in it, what I see coming in the future and why I think that dreams are not prophetic necessarily but some are emotionally charged visions of possibilities and warnings, often cryptic messages and in some cases big hints for what we should fix in our own lives, the things that we should be doing that we aren't and most importantly time to explore a different way of life in our waking hours, to be more authentic. After all haven't you ever remembered a bit of a dream later in the day and only then realised that what you had taken up until now to have been a memory was really part of a dream? It is very wrong to dismiss them as merely the efforts of the concious mind to palm off our problems and imagery of our most recent experiences onto the so called subconscious and let it work them out and decide what to store and what to dispose of. Dreams are just as 'real' as our daily 'reality', if we could move we'd act them out as if we were awake...
Click on these to see the real view of the long and winding road that leads to...Getting sidetracked, anyway long story short I explained that I had lost any sense of the milk of human kindness and lost faith in our society too and through chanting the Hare Krishna Maha Mantra for the waking hours of seven days straight on my first Camino & subsequently developing Self Knowledge through Shamanism, so between that and years of scientific and literature research I had gotten to the point that I knew, not thought KNEW that two things are true.
Look around you this world is ending, disasters are on the increase the signs are there.
Something is coming towards us from the future and we need to be prepared to meet it.
My routes to this knowledge were circuitous but now I can pass it on to anyone with some time on their hands and the willingness to be open and possibly become more whole, a more happy person without any fear of death and with a renewed relish for life. The answers were there all along but made more difficult to find with an Ego, by Male Dominance in our societies and by our own stupidity...
I don't know how long I had spoken but once I'd finished I didn't want any questions or to have to explain anything, I'd insulted the church in front of Catholics by describing the council of Rome as a Jolly Boys Outing for Patriarchal Church figures to sit around and edit the final cut of the Bible before publishing the version that would keep women downtrodden for centuries for no reason and a multitude of others sins committed in a good man's name. (For the Record... Jesus prayed and worshipped where he was at the time and not merely to the converted either, it took place in their homes or in nature NOT in a building purpose built to raise money for flabby paedophiles' and misogynists). There rant over... I'd explained how I'd come to my conclusions, to my renewed love of life, feeling of balance and serenity within that life and also to this journey and felt quite exposed which is the key to being open.
So walking off at a very quick pace I soon left Dirk and Megan behind to stew on my diatribe, I wanted them to get past the fact that I'd said some things that many people would think crazy or just downright offensive, to access how they feel and use that as their yard stick to measure what I'd laid out, not what they think they know or were taught. Not to let their ego get in the way of truthfully analysing my words. De-Reprogramming doesn't work unless the hardware and software work in partnership, the Brain and Heart must work together in tandem with the gut. I call opinions like the ones I used to have about most things, dodgy software and unless they're open to upgrading and bug-checking, surely their unreliable at best? Why do people put so much stock in opinions that they got by reading the Papers or watching the News, question time or match of the day?
Anyway it was too hot, almost featureless farmland either side of the Way and very little shelter from the sun so gone midday I stopped at what I assumed was the marker stone and information for the next big place and that it wouldn't be too far away now. Everyone else caught me up in minutes, even two hours of speed walking had only given me five minutes peace and quiet, although I'd only past the Spanish guy and girls in the last half an hour so I couldn't complain and it was good to chat as everybody took on water and food, regrouped, took photos and checked guidebooks. Half way there! Oh my, it's been a hard half, I hope the second bit is easier...
Hmm hard going, water running low and then out, my poor predictions of how far away the next place was from our peeks of roof's and the sight of pylons and power lines following main roads into and out of whatever lay beyond the hills and trees. Meg getting annoyed at both my stealing some of her water (even though she's got a litre left) but mostly because I poured it very well up until performance anxiety, the strength of her gaze making me spill a few drips to her chagrin. Then more annoyed when I say we'll be there in half an hour only for it to be half an hour on top of the half an hour we've already spent squishing through wet earth to make it through what was a sticky icky yucky mess of a muddy path for a few k's. Climbing out and up onto a railway embankment, crossing the line and cheering up at the sight of a tiny pony and then even more welcome the sight of Torremegia!!!There's still some way to go yet and I grab the nearest old lady whose just emerged from her friends house by the look of it, almost takes my hand she's that kean to show us to the 
Albergue. Just so happens it's near her house and she's on the way there anyway, so 
off we three trot, past bullring, past main road, through main square past her house to the arse end of the village where the church is located and scrub land and farm land restarts. Walking up it looks like a very old building but surprises galore reside within... It's huge, clean and has just finished being completely refurbished. The dorms are smaller, say 8 to ten beds I think, brand new furniture and fittings which mainly means bunk beds that don't squeak when either person moves, the shower room is big enough for a football team and so is the toilet, I think they were just using up the space. Like all newer facilities and lots of places elsewhere in Spain the disabled access is superb and seem standard rather than an afterthought or a late addition, including the lift to what is basically a huge mezzanine upstairs containing all the rooms. I take my shower sat down because I can...
Meg and I pop out to get an evening meal leaving the nice German lady and her husband and entourage, often you meet people and assume that they all know each other or are travelling together, both are true but only for the last few days or possibly a few hours at times, groups form and reform over and over as new people join the Camino family and others leave. The first bar has Richard on the furthest bar stool sat chatting up the young barmaid so we join for drinks and more olives ugh, shame I don't like em, the other stuff she gives us next is more like it. It's a dirty little place but full of character which is the way it goes and lots of the old geezers having a social evening so we skip off and search the High Street, the rain making our decision easier, plumping for bar that'll serve food in a while. Families with kids, older and younger people in little groups and us. It's a proper Spanish atmosphere and the red wine comes in big glasses so I get a load of stuff off my chest and then I let Megan get a word in edgeways to excitedly tell me all about her friend who has recently become her boyfriend back home (finally, not for the want of trying). It's a wonderful evening, the food is good and disappears along with pudding and so is the conversation, frank, interesting, perfect. Meg's sense of direction lets her down on the way back and it takes a little wandering to find the place but it's so nice to have a proper evening out instead of huddling over a stove or back and in bed by 10:00pm on the dot.
Albergue. Just so happens it's near her house and she's on the way there anyway, so 
off we three trot, past bullring, past main road, through main square past her house to the arse end of the village where the church is located and scrub land and farm land restarts. Walking up it looks like a very old building but surprises galore reside within... It's huge, clean and has just finished being completely refurbished. The dorms are smaller, say 8 to ten beds I think, brand new furniture and fittings which mainly means bunk beds that don't squeak when either person moves, the shower room is big enough for a football team and so is the toilet, I think they were just using up the space. Like all newer facilities and lots of places elsewhere in Spain the disabled access is superb and seem standard rather than an afterthought or a late addition, including the lift to what is basically a huge mezzanine upstairs containing all the rooms. I take my shower sat down because I can...Meg and I pop out to get an evening meal leaving the nice German lady and her husband and entourage, often you meet people and assume that they all know each other or are travelling together, both are true but only for the last few days or possibly a few hours at times, groups form and reform over and over as new people join the Camino family and others leave. The first bar has Richard on the furthest bar stool sat chatting up the young barmaid so we join for drinks and more olives ugh, shame I don't like em, the other stuff she gives us next is more like it. It's a dirty little place but full of character which is the way it goes and lots of the old geezers having a social evening so we skip off and search the High Street, the rain making our decision easier, plumping for bar that'll serve food in a while. Families with kids, older and younger people in little groups and us. It's a proper Spanish atmosphere and the red wine comes in big glasses so I get a load of stuff off my chest and then I let Megan get a word in edgeways to excitedly tell me all about her friend who has recently become her boyfriend back home (finally, not for the want of trying). It's a wonderful evening, the food is good and disappears along with pudding and so is the conversation, frank, interesting, perfect. Meg's sense of direction lets her down on the way back and it takes a little wandering to find the place but it's so nice to have a proper evening out instead of huddling over a stove or back and in bed by 10:00pm on the dot.
No comments:
Post a Comment