AMBLING RAMBLINGS

Go places. Meet friends. Try things. Give and receive. Be happy : )

[amblingramblings-blog]

Leaving Albania was hard. It may have only been a few days, but I already feel like we go way back. Shkodër was an awesome city because that’s all it was. It wasn’t a tourist attraction. It was just a place where people live that happened to be right on the biggest lake in the Balkans and at the foot of some beautiful mountains.

Everyday, people (some in horse drawn carts: totally normal on the highway) from the surrounding countryside brought fruits and vegetables and fresh eggs and milk in reused plastic bottles and herbs for mountain tea and an assortment of other wares to sell, and fishermen brought giant lake carp to clean and sell from plastic bins on the street like I saw all over Asia, and old men gathered to idle away the hours with coffee and dominos. There’s also an excellent pedestrian street for idling away time with the beverage or snack of your choice. And a vegetarian restaurant around the corner where, between three of us, we tried and approve of everything.

One particularly fortuitous afternoon involved going to Shiroka, a small town on the lake just a few kms away, and sharing some deliciously cold Montenegrin wine with a fellow Californian before catching a ride to the castle. Hitch hiking is very common, very easy, and very fun in Albania and perhaps all of the Balkans, but I’m not sure. I’m a pro now! Anyway, that afternoon, our drivers were so friendly that they offered to get a coffee while we walked around the castle, then give us a ride back to our hostel. We even made plans (which didn’t materialize for a variety of reasons) to meet up later. They were so wonderful! And even though our bar hopping didn’t happen, it was nice to chat and to yet again be the recipient of such good will. Much like our hitched ride, the castle was also great. Huge and crumbling and situated high on a hill looking down over the city and surrounding countryside. It was a nice way to say goodbye to Albania, even though I wasn’t quite ready to leave.

[amblingramblings-blog]

I love when someone in the hostel decides to cook. Homemade naan? Yes, please!

[amblingramblings-blog]

I have done a lot of hiking in the last three months, and the 20 kms or so I spent walking from Theth to Valbona wins a gold medal for its views. Wow. It’s not an easy walk, with a steep assent and plenty of tricky stones, but it’s absolutely worth it. My description could never do it justice - just go do it!

Along the way, the universe was on our side when it brought us to Adenis Selimj. He was walking with a few other guys and their horses, all loaded down with bags. Not only did he save us from going the wrong way, he brought us home with him. His family is one of the few that lives in the mountains year round (a lot move to more winter-equipped places 9 months of the year) and they’ve made a couple of rooms into guest rooms.

It was perfect. They were so warm, welcoming us right into their typical Albanian mountain life. We sat around with everyone, playing and learning Albanian with his little sisters. We talked and gestured and laughed and hugged (the youngest two were so loving). We helped push and pull the pickup that got stuck on their steep, gravel driveway out again with what seemed like half of the village. We exchanged card games: one Albanian for one American (Rummy). I saw his mom making fli, a traditional bread that takes hours to prepare, layer by layer, in her outdoor oven. For dinner, we ate this bread plus another type fresh out of the oven with vegetables from the garden, cheese from their cows, and honey from their bees. Mmmm.

The next morning was adorned with clouds from the previous night’s storm and brought a visit to the cow shed to get some milk. Fresh milk is really good. I never drink milk at home, but now I will reconsider whenever an udder is so closely involved with my glass, especially if it’s possible to stir in a tiny spoon of honey made by bees equally close-by. And the yogurt. Oh, the yogurt. Needless to say, breakfast was also delicious.

When we left their house for the mini bus-ferry-mini bus trip back to Shkodër the next morning, I knew that I’d be leaving a big piece of my heart in Albania, thanks in no small part to the hospitality of Adenis and his family. Thank you so much.

[amblingramblings-blog]

John set out for the airport and, a few hours later, I headed south with hopes of losing some tourists and finding a greater sense of adventure. I thought perhaps going all the way to the southern part of Montenegro would be enough, but Ulcinj was just as crowded. It was fun to visit Europe’s only ladies-only beach and to hear again the Muslim call to prayer announced so beautifully. But the best part of my stay was meeting Hilma and Tova, two lovely Swedish girls with whom I have since continued on.

From Ulcinj, the three of us hitchhiked to Shkodër, on the Albanian side of Lake Skadar. It was my first time hitch hiking and I think I got lucky: it took us less than five minutes to be picked up by an Albanian couple who could speak a bit of Italian and were nice enough to drop us at the front gate of our hostel.

And here in Albania, I’ve finally found the kind of travel I’ve been craving. Things are not as familiar and require a bit more figuring out. Life seems a bit harder, perhaps simpler, and somehow more real: grittier, with more texture to grab onto. I have been forced to learn a few words in Albanian (woohoo!) since fewer people speak my language, and these people have all been so wonderful! I am sad to have found the tip of this Balkan iceberg with only a handful of days left and no time to tap in, but I am so thankful to have found it at all.

I’ll write more about Shkodër later, but it is the bread to my mountain sandwich and the first slice was a thin one, so let me first write about the mountains. Or should I say karsts, because that’s what they actually are, and it explains why the whole region is so rocky. And so beautiful I have a hard time believing I was ever actually in what looks less like a real place than the kind of beautiful place one sees in films, where every scene is so perfectly shot with proper angles and lighting that is makes the place look better than it really is. But this really is that beautiful. All the time. From any angle or light.

We decided to use the rainy day to take the bus to Theth. Just getting there was fun! We walked down to a particular roundabout and asked someone (who luckily spoke English) where to find the right minibus. In answer, this someone did the ubiquitous hand-waggle to flag down a car (probably his friend) on its way there. The driver offered us a ride for too much money, but then eventually directed us to the mini bus that was not mini at all, but a gargantuan monstrosity I could stand up in with room to spare. It had dark red, fake leather covering the roof and walls and orange curtains covering the windows, and it quickly filled up with a motley assortment of people and bags and groceries. I couldn’t communicate in any other language but smile with half of the passengers (ok, it was mostly just me smiling…maybe they think I’m crazy). One guy was sitting on a stool because there were no seats left. There was loud Albanian music and a baby crying occasionally. And, of course, beautiful scenery out the windows. And I loved all of it. I’d read that the drive to Theth was a treacherous one, and was just thinking that the paved switchbacks really weren’t so bad when the pavement ended and became an uneven collection of potholes barely wide enough for one car but occasionally forced to accommodate two, for passing. We were mostly inside a cloud, but during moments of visibility, we were able to see huge peaks going straight up and the edge of the road dropping straight down. We stopped once for coffee and the toilet, and I discovered that I have not yet lost the skill to pee in a porcelain hole in the ground. All about aim.

After being deposited in Theth (a collection of homes scattered amongst the peaks and valleys), we waited with a cup of hot mountain tea for someone to come collect us and then followed Michaele through the beautiful countryside back to our home for the next two nights. This home was an incredibly old, stone house inhabited by our hosts on the left, their elderly family members (including Michaele) on the right, and one of the cows in the middle. She had a private stall. We think she was pregnant.

We played with the two girls, Klara and Kloi, ate home made food from the garden, and went to bed early because the electricity didn’t really work. It was idyllic, and just what I needed after a few days of not sleeping so well. During the day, Tova and I hiked to one of the waterfalls and back. It was a beautiful fall, but the destination paled in comparison to the journey. We stopped for mountain tea at one of the stone homes we passed, and lunch in another. And all along the way we filled our bottles with fresh, cold spring water right from the source. Water will never be the same again.

[amblingramblings-blog]

Up, up, up to the Julian Alps we went, thanks to Zoran’s good advice. We tried to find space at a campground on the Nadiža river but forgot to take into account that it was late on a Friday in peak tourist season. Luckily, Boris (the friendly wine maker we’d visited earlier that day) had suggested a place not too far away on the Soča river - Pristina Lepena - that was nestled in one of the most beautiful places either of us have ever seen. There were dramatic mountain peaks dropping steeply to meet lush, green pastures and perfectly clear, turquoise water. The water was freezing! But the sun was hot, and the combination was great.

The second night we spent in Bovec, a town just 20 minutes away and apparently an outdoorsy Mecca. It was there that our deck’s roof provided us with front row seats to a fantastic storm of lighting, thunder, wind, rain and hail. Nature is so amazing.

[amblingramblings-blog]

We made a quick stop on our way north in the Vipava Valley, otherwise known as foodie and wine-o heaven. To take full advantage, we stayed on an agriturismo in Tomaj run by the Skerlj family and enjoyed dinner and breakfast from the fruits of the land. We had to find an ATM the next morning and decided to take that as an opportunity for a nice walk to the next town. The walk took us by apple and plum trees in abundance, and even more vines just waiting for harvest time in a couple of months. There wasn't much in "town," but we did find a really nice guy and the tourist info office (which I'm surprised they even had!) who called over to a local vineyard and arranged for us to visit. Turns out Boris Lisjak's family has been making wine for generations, and they've amassed quite a lot of awards for it, too. Lucky us! It was fun to see his cellar and of course to taste three of his varietals. We took a bottle of the Teran - Istria's most common and well known red - with us to enjoy later.

[amblingramblings-blog]

Oh, Istria! I wish I had more time with you, and I’ll certainly be back to find it. We had only a couple of days, so spent all our time on the coast. Starting on the Slovenian side, we stopped in Koper, Izola, and Portoroz. Izola is a charming little town where we found a delicious seafood lunch before wading into the Adriatic. It was the first of many swims : )

In Portoroz, we met our couchsurfing host, Zoran, who asked what we’d like to do. I said, “see sunset.” So, after taking us back to his apartment (complete with beautiful ocean view) to drop our bags off, we made our way down to a beautiful and quiet stretch of coast for a sunset swim. It was the perfect end to a day that wasn’t quite ready to end yet: from there, we headed to Piran for dinner with friends.

Piran is an old city perched on a peninsula. It was captured by the Venetians and today shares a lot of its architectural style with the Italian port. The tower was actually built to imitate the iconic one we had just left behind a few days before in Piazza San Marco. And it was beautiful. So beautiful that we went back the next day after a lovely breakfast with Zoran for another walkabout.

Then we hopped the border into Croatia and found two beautiful old towns with winding streets made of pearly, white marble and churches dating back to the 6th century. Poreč and Rovinj were both stunning, but Rovinj, slightly larger and grander, was truly awe inspiring. Like Piran, it was built into a stint of land jutting out into the sea, and there were handfuls of small staircases leading down to the water, each with a couple of sun bathers or a small bar offering cold drinks made even more appealing by the hot day. We met Sean, a fellow Californian, at the main swimming area. We shared some conversation and cliff jumping amidst the water-worn rocks and salty blue waves that have hosted swarms of bathers for hundreds, even thousands, of years.

[amblingramblings-blog]

We spent one day checking out the lakes, Bled and Bohinj. Bled really did look like a postcard, with a beautiful castle-island smack in the middle. We stopped for a breakfast picnic before continuing to Bohinj, where we hiked up to a very pretty but very crowded waterfall. We then lost the crowd as we continued our hike around the shore for a ways. There were lots of little inviting nooks just asking to be lounged in, and we found one that was both lovely and luckily next to a friendly, American pair of mother-daughter travelers. We had a nice chat and exchanged travel tips before packing up and heading home to Ljubljana.

[amblingramblings-blog]

From Padova I made my way to Venice and, together with my boyfriend, John, explored the beautiful but of course over-crowded city again. We agree that it would be really fun to grow up in Venice, running around the maze of tiny streets and hidden canals. We then spent one night in Trieste, a grand old town with one of the biggest waterside squares in Europe and a reputation for old-author haunts. It also had an absolutely beautiful old church, with a luminescent mosaic style I’ve never seen before.

And then we found Slovenia. What an amazing country! Ljubljana, the capital, was our first stop, and it is perfect: beautiful, with a canal studded river winding through the middle. Old, with castles and basilicas and lots of history. New, with shops and bars and graffiti and lots of young people out and about. Well-sized, with plenty to do that’s all possible on foot. Local, with more permanent residents than tourists (or so it seemed). And comfortable, with so many nice spots for sitting outside with a good Slovenian wine (they’re delicious!) or coffee and, in our case, a deck of cards.

Ljubljana is also well situated as a jumping off point for visiting other parts of the country. We had a rental car to do just that, but really liked coming home to our Airbnb the first three nights (and then again on our last night). It was about a 30 minute walk outside the center, mostly through a beautiful park. Our hostess shared some local knowledge and tips that helped make our time there even better, and staying in a more residential area let me do one of my favorite things: pretend that I live there. And now I think that maybe I should. It was awesome.

[amblingramblings-blog]

Italy never lets me down. From Lake Como to Rome to Cecina to Padua, I’ve enjoyed every place and moment. I can attest to Lake Como’s beauty from a variety of perspectives. The first day was a full one, during which I saw Como by boat (the ferry to Bellagio) and bus (back to Nesso, halfway between Bellagio and Como) and motorbike (thanks Sammy!). I saw it from the bottom (my swim) and the top (well, kind of….I walked waaaaaay up a lot of steep roads to a veramente bella vista in Nesso. I saw it from touristy town (beautiful Bellagio) and a local hang (our lakeside aperitivo locale). I stayed in two really great spots: Respau Eco Hostel on the outskirts of Como, and a newish Airbnb just getting started in Nesso. They call themselves Terranova. The eco hostel was old and pretty, housed in some kind of a nature reserve, and run by a super friendly family. And staying in Nesso was fun because it was not touristy in the least, but well connected to touristy spots by bus or boat. The highlight was probably the surprise motorbike ride, the perfect spot we found for our aperitivo, and the conversation. It was one of the best kinds of conversations, where you see enough of the topic the same way to get really deeply into it, but have sufficiently distinct opinions to challenge and broaden each other’s perspective. In Rome and Cecina I visited the families for whom I au paired. It was so good to see everyone, and in both cases it felt a lot like going home sprinkled with plenty of new and different-ness. And now I’m sitting here in Padua after a three hour pause in Florence that provided for the perfect walkabout. Padua might be my new favorite city in Italy (city, not town). It’s kind of awesome here. There are cobblestones and bridges and domes and graffiti and bars and a seeming lack of tourists, probably because the students come from everywhere anyway. I’m having an aperitivo in one of the many beautiful piazzas along with I think everyone else in the city. It’s university is over 800 years old (Galileo lectured here!) and there are lots of young people. Lots of older people too, though. And frescoes by Giotto in the Scrovegni Chapel that I will have to come back for (oh darn, back to my new favorite Italian city…) because it’s too late now and I’m off early in the morning.

[amblingramblings-blog]

I am so lucky. I know, I know: I say this constantly, but it's because that is how often I feel it! And it's true: I am. In this particular instance, I am feeling lucky for having been hosted by Marco in Locarno, my next stop after Colmar and the first place I've ever visited in Switzerland. I had only one full day plus some of two others in Locarno, but Marco made sure that I got a comprehensive taste of the area that has definitely left me hungry for another Swiss adventure. My sampler included some of the bar scene in Locarno with Marco and his friends (all so wonderful!) and a lot of beautiful nature. Without time to do a proper hike, especially after lingering over a lovely breakfast, he drove us up to Valle Verzasca, a swimming hole with river-worn rocks and a charming, old bridge from which people were jumping. It was tall. We were lazy, and didn't feel like breaking the spell with too much adrenaline. But we did jump from a high, rock ledge nearby. Most people thought the water was icy (and it was), but after California beaches and lakes, I'm an ice-water pro : ) This beautiful valley complete with charming town and picturesque bridge really was one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. But it also made me realize how much more of Switzerland I have to explore. This was just the tip of the iceberg. After swimming, we came back into town and stepped up the class at the lakeside spa. With a big pool that seemed to flow from indoors straight out into the lake, a plethora of smaller pools in varying temperatures, and a modern style - I felt fancy. It was fun. After our pizza dinner, we were both too tired to make it to the concert in the central plaza, though we certainly heard it from Marco's very centrally located apartment. The next day (today), I wandered off on my own to see Ascona, the smaller and prettier neighbor to Locarno. Don't get me wrong - Locarno has a nice, old center. But it also has a lot of modern, not so nice stuff around it (in the opinion of a quaint-small-town loving girl like myself). Just a short walk away, Ascona provided just that. It was chic, but perfectly cobbled and winding, and I followed Marco's advice to just get lost for a while. During this walkabout, I had the best gelato of my life. This is big. Though I will eat and enjoy just about anything ice cream related, I actually have very high standards for what makes an especially noteworthy cold, sweet, creamy treat. Up until today, I have held two places in the highest esteem: Philippo's, an artisanal, handmade Gelateria in Cecina, Italy (where I was an au pair) and a place in Hanoi, Vietnam that makes just one flavor of ice cream a day. This spot by the lake whose name I didn't notice and therefore can't even remember in Ascona trumps them both. My pistachio and coconut scoops were utterly perfect. And now I'm back in Locarno, laying in a park by the lake where they don't have snack carts but snack boats. Switzerland, why has it taken me so long to make your acquaintance?

[amblingramblings-blog]

I was dropped off practically at the front door of Meg and Diane's place in Colmar (they are friends, but also kind of like adopted California family) and had no sooner stepped inside than Diane said something along the lines of: "Good timing. Meg should be arriving at the station any second, and we have a dinner reservation." The dinner was a great start to a great few days. I was thinking of renting a bike or taking a bus and hiking back to Colmar in order to see some of the nearby towns, but Meg and her mom wanted to rent a car. It was a treat to tag along, and I was happy to provide my manual driving skills (no automatic rental option). The first night took us through a handful of adorable, small towns before settling on Riquewihr for dinner. I tried the regional dish I'd seen advertised on so many menus: tarte flambee. It's like a super-thin crust pizza with creme fraishe instead of marinara sauce, cheese, onions and ham (or in my case, mushrooms). It was good, but as a lover of all things involving some kind of tomato sauce, I kinda missed the marinara. Our automotive adventures took us over the German border the next day, to Freiburg. It was a great city because it was old and charming, but bustling with modern life; it's a college town. Riquewihr and Kayserberg (where we ended up that afternoon) were on the other side of the modern spectrum - very old. And very charming. It's amazing how all of the towns in Alsace can be so tiny and cobbled and canal-ed. It was like walking from one postcard to the next. The little place that Meg and Diane rented was adjacent to a big house right on a canal. They even had boat privileges! A highlight of my time in Colmar was the picnic we had at the table back by the water, complete with snacks and wine from the handful of places we'd visited that day. They left on Wednesday for Berlin but were nice enough to let me stay in their little home. Backpacking is wonderful, but sometimes it's nice to have some down time alone to rest and sort out upcoming plans. I did that, as well as some shopping. The package with a few of my shirts, shorts and select other normal (non hiking) clothes that John so kindly mailed to Santiago (thank you!) never made it, and is instead still sitting in customs in Madrid (I think) three weeks later. Since I'm not in Spain anymore and am not going back just for a little package, I needed to buy a few things to tide me over for the next month and a half. It's crazy how when you are traveling with so little, and it's all in a backpack, just adding a few more things seems to double the weight and size. Anyway, now I have some new clothes and a whole bottle of conditioner which my hair has been sorely missing. I also put earrings back on. Does all of that make me a real girl again?

[amblingramblings-blog]

One night back in Santiago before my flight. Rachel and I shared a room in my favorite pensión, and we went on a brief tapas crawl with two others. I revisited all three of my favorite spots, and two of the three proprietors remembered me! My new friend Antoine offered good company and help with the French messages I needed to send to secure a ride from the airport the next day (on the Spanish version of blablacar’s website). I saved my most favorite stop for last: the drinks-and-tapas-only outpost of Bierzo Enxebre, just across from the restaurant. Here, the lovely man who ran the place and whose name I am sad to have forgotten not only remembered me, but sat and joined me in a final glass of Galician wine and a little chat. As I was leaving, he asked me to wait and grabbed a jar of local honey off the shelf, which he handed me as a goodbye present. Thank you for the kindness, and for showing me yet again how wonderful the world and the people in it can be : )

And the next morning, on to Basel, where my blablacar driver was kind enough to pick me up at the airport (and the woman at the information desk was kind enough to call him and discuss the exact meeting spot in French). He dropped me off at the train station in Strasbourg, a city I’ve been wanting to see since both my oldest friend, Fielden, and my little brother studied there and returned with glowing reviews. And glowing it was!

I walked around the old city and hung out in the botanical garden while I waited for my couchsurfing hostess, Alix, to get home from her Spanish lesson. She helped make my two nights a success. The first included a dinner of traditional Alsacian noodles in a lovely square in Petit France - a charming part of the city. And the second found us digging into Algerian food at her friend Jamel’s flat after a day spent visiting the huge market just outside her front door, taking a picnic to the largest and most beautiful park in the city, winding through the streets and canals of Strasbourg and adding a pink streak to my hair. Alix’s flatmate was dying her hair and offered me some color. Why not? I played proper tourist the next day, losing and re-finding my way through the city center, with plenty of stops for delicious things to drink and another picnic in another park. It was Sunday, so most of the shops and restaurants were closed and I didn't have to fight the hordes for a place on the street.

At 17h00, I was whisked away by another blablacar (again secured via French messaging on a Spanish website) to Colmar to join Meg and her mom for a few days in the apartment they let for three weeks. Goodbye to one beautiful city (thanks for everything, Alix!) and hello to another.

[amblingramblings-blog]

I finally felt a sense of closure on the beach in Finisterre. It has a magical quality to it: protected and wild and powerful all at the same time. I can see why so many pilgrims consider this the true end of the Camino: it certainly felt that way for me. As soon as I hopped off the bus in Finisterre, I was greeted by so many familiar faces. Victoria and I shaved our legs. It was the first time in a month for me, and it felt like some sort of a ritual; like shedding the grit of the Camino and stepping back into society. That night, like every night, there was a big bonfire on the beach. We were a big group. Maybe 50. Some I knew, others I met. There was a guitar and a ukulele and an abundance of good spirit. We drank wine and sang songs and communed well into the starry night. It was a perfect end.

[amblingramblings-blog]

After three days resting my foot in Santiago with unrealized hopes of continuing the walk, I’ve slowly come to terms with the fact that I cannot walk anymore right now. I know that the Camino never ends (it’s always under my feet), but I wasn’t quite ready to take off my backpack, stop walking who knows how many kilometers every day with fellow pilgrims, and give up the magic that, together, we all created and shared and will never really be able to describe to anyone else. But my foot had its own plans and my foot won. So I stead of walking, I took the bus to Muxia, a quiet seaside town that is neither particularly charming or touristy, but in which I had a great time, mostly thanks to Bela Muxia. This albergue is super new and modern which actually turned me off at first. But Ángel who runs the place with his wife is incredibly welcoming and amicable, and I quickly made a bunch of other friends. I made dinner with and shared conversation, wine and sunset with a group of four Spaniards + one Japanese, and had coffee and beach time the next day with my new Lithuanian friend. The breeze that was at first chilly soon became the icing on a hot-and-sunny-beach-day cake. At 3pm, Tracy picked me up and whisked me off to her “post Camino retreat” called The Little Fox House but is really just her house, which she opens up to pilgrims on a donation basis. After hurting my foot, I did a little research on where I could go to just rest. And that’s what I did. In fact, after walking through the front door, I didn’t walk any further than across the street to the sunny bench by the church. I read an entire book cover to cover. I iced my foot. I took a bath. I slept in a queen sized bed! With sheets! This morning I was supposed to flag down the school bus on its way into town so that I could then catch another bus to Finisterre, but after waiting an hour in the drizzle with no sign of the bus, I gave up. Turns out there was no school today. Oops. So I walked back to the Little Fox House (mostly with an old, half-toothless woman who was very friendly but spoke the regional dialect so communication was…funny) for a hot cup of tea and to begin plotting my next adventure. In just a few days I will head to France to meet my friend Meg in Colmar. But I will have two and a half French days to fill up with something good before I meet her. Oh, the possibilities!

[amblingramblings-blog]

I'm sitting here in a delightful tapas bar on my third and final night in Santiago (and posting this many, many days later). The first night I arrived late and it was raining so I caught up on sleep. Last night I spent with a group of peregrinos. And tonight I had plans to meet up with some others at a determined time and place, but I didn't want plans. I wanted to wander. So I did, and I found the best, coziest, little spots! Besides delicious wine (one glass of which was actually served in a small bowl in a tiny, crowded, neighborhood bar), I've had some great raciones (small plates of a single thing) and tapas (small plates that come gratis with your drink). I've followed my gut down small, winding, cobbled streets to what seem like local spots - and my gut is happy : ) I've had mussels in vinager as recommended by a very nice couple with whom I traded some mussels for some octopus, plenty of Galician cheese, bread with a fresh tomato and garlic spread, olives, and - at this final stop - a mix of nibbles including a toast topped with thinly sliced Apple, good cheese, and caramelized onions. I had a long conversation with an old man that I could barely understand but I sensed he just wanted to talk. I attempted to read some of the Spanish newspaper. I exchanged many smiles and pleasantries. The night was a microcosm of what I enjoy about traveling alone. Sure, it can occasionally be a tiny bit lonely, but it's mostly amazing. I really enjoy all of the interactions with others that it opens up because you are more approachable and because you can give all your attention to what's around you instead of to the people with whom you're traveling. You notice more small details, and have time to appreciate and think about them. And, of course, the total freedom to just do exactly what you want is nice too. Santiago is a great city, one which I enjoyed even more after upgrading from dorm to a simple but absolutely perfect pensión where for two days I had my own little balcony overlooking the city below. What (relative) luxury! If you go to Santiago, stay in Santa Cristina, just around the corner from the cathedral! Another interesting detail I experienced in Santiago was the botafumeiro - or giant incense burner, swung across the alter with the combined heave-hos of several robed men. Though Santiago is not the only place to have a botafumeiro, theirs is one of the largest in the world. In olden times, pilgrims would show up sick, dirty, and likely smelly; the incense would literally and metaphorically cleanse them. It was fun to see.

[amblingramblings-blog]

El Camino Day 24: Vega de Valcarece to Fonfría Day 25: to Barbadelo Day 26: to Ligonde Day 27: to Santiago

I’m writing this from Santiago: yes! I made it! But I don’t want to jump to the end too quickly, so let me back up and fill in some details. My perfect stay with Isana in Vega de Valcarece (including the sheer luck of being the only one in my room, which meant that I woke up to silence and had the most amazing layabout ever in the morning) was the calm before the storm. But as actually walking through a storm has taught me, what doesn’t kill you makes you feel stronger. And that’s the same as being stronger, I think. Because - as I’ve also learned - it really is just a matter of perspective.

The walk from Vega de Valcarece to Fonfría took me over O Cebreiro, a beautiful old town at the top of “the mountain” I’ve heard pilgrims mention with foreboding. It really wasn’t so bad, and both the path and the view on top were very pretty. I ran into the ever lovey Faustine again at the top, and discovered Bert and Franchesca in my albergue that night.

The walk to Barbadelo the next day provided one of my most rewarding days on the Camino. I was so overwhelmed with gratitude and positive energy! The path split twice and both times I chose the route that was slightly longer and more scenic. I’m so glad I did. The day was perfect for the walk down into the valley that cradles the old and picturesque Monastery in Samos. I had company for just the right amount of time, spoke other languages for just the right amount of time, and saw no one during the rest of the time - left alone to experience dream land on my own. One of my temporary companions was going through a lot in life, and I think I provided just the listening ear he needed. A highlight for me was passing by a tiny, old chapel. It was locked, but we could peer inside through the slats. It seemed so loved and loving.

That night I stopped in a wonderful albergue in Barbadelo - Casa de Carmen - but was jolted awake around midnight when someone in my dorm found bedbugs! I feel bad for everyone involved - the person who must have brought them, the pilgrims who may have caught them, and the very friendly owners who would have to close for a few days to fumigate and probably suffer from loss of income and a tarnished reputation for a couple of weeks. Needless to say, we cut out of there and were on the road just after 2am. I’d been wanting to walk at night, so I guess this was my chance. I’d imagined doing it under a bright moon and stars but this foggy Galician night provided neither; it was certainly an adventure though. Thank you Michele for first seeing the bedbugs (I escaped unscathed!) and then seeing all of the paths the rest of us missed in the dark (we’d have gone many kms in the wrong direction without you as our guide!).

Two of our crew dropped off around lunchtime; Michele and I pushed on for a couple more hours, stopping in Ligonde. It was no ordinary day: it was her birthday! And we had a lovey dinner with Michaele, all spoken in Italian. I am so grateful to be able to speak a bit of a few languages because language really is a door to so many rich and otherwise unavailable experiences.

On the walk back after a great dinner, I took a bad step. Nearly 750 kms without so much as a blister, and on the walk back from dinner my foot made a terrible criiiiiink kind of sound. Two days away from Santiago with plans of walking on the Muxia and Finisterre, possibly even tacking on a few days of the Portuguese Camino up from Porto - and now an injury?!?! As luck on the Camino would have it, there was of course a doctor in my albergue that night. She bandaged me up and actually the next day was fine despite her warnings of a potential stress fracture. Because of that, I didn’t bother to do anything the next day and now I’m hobbling around, barely able to walk to the bar for a tapa. The last 10km into Santiago were so painful that I considered breaking down and taking something with wheels. But I made it! Talk about a roller coaster.