tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5731220301490443622024-02-18T22:35:44.888-08:002014 SabbaticalKaren Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-81556417651763097552014-04-22T14:00:00.000-07:002014-04-23T00:33:40.663-07:00Next Steps?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">Easter is over. It has been a weekend of Semana Santa parades, masses in the cathedral, pondering traditions for celebrating our faith and exploring the streets of Santiago. It is interesting to walk on streets first plotted on a grid over 1000 years ago, to sit in mass and see before me a view which could have been captured by an early pinhole camera or a renaissance artist. Archbishop with staff and mitre before the altar, incense drifting through a sun beam slanting up towards the roof, heads of people in packed rows bent, a mother holding her sleeping child, the ancient glories of the altar glinting in the muted light.</span></div>
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The BEST bit, however, was walking on the ROOF of the cathedral! Yup...there is a tour...it was originally a cathedral/fortress so soldiers had to walk up there. Such a view! <br />
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We are leaving Santiago after the Easter weekend. 20th century thoughts intrude. One Facebook friend asks "Did you find what you were looking for?"<br />
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In short: yes. Yes I did. I was looking for time simply to place one foot in front of the other, in a simple lived experience of the words "Follow me".<br />
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I was looking for time to process some unfinished issues, to allow my soul to catch up with my body as some have put it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWU0lDyfwkDqJekcMlLUuTtKtDJPAXIL6m0ObImPIWx_q2cgebADKq0zJmejxIMwnxyEbfjZCBYrH4S1iMRD9wkia6vVTSPS2UGtzNpAMd6e8Dp53OjwbjEPlReSDYteMPSVst4Um7s88/s1600/20140421_121709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWU0lDyfwkDqJekcMlLUuTtKtDJPAXIL6m0ObImPIWx_q2cgebADKq0zJmejxIMwnxyEbfjZCBYrH4S1iMRD9wkia6vVTSPS2UGtzNpAMd6e8Dp53OjwbjEPlReSDYteMPSVst4Um7s88/s1600/20140421_121709.jpg" /></a>I wanted to spend time with my husband, just the two of us, with no other demands on us but the needs of the day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL1d5DpfwQdZMkrGoJ5JGPxOfHLhjqIjpXrVaAyMZh77RakLfhx0SB2mSxcIFh9xO4-vWy6PPQFAHlA3QIAhwOHhMShFfIEVcHN3F_cTmplq3WiZ7IJGtGxwb3R-FmcnHBmYOcMRGahOHT/s1600/20140419_095501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL1d5DpfwQdZMkrGoJ5JGPxOfHLhjqIjpXrVaAyMZh77RakLfhx0SB2mSxcIFh9xO4-vWy6PPQFAHlA3QIAhwOHhMShFfIEVcHN3F_cTmplq3WiZ7IJGtGxwb3R-FmcnHBmYOcMRGahOHT/s1600/20140419_095501.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljJZFQlPuQcskRajP-iJvRSfazpG31NsyZeBGgiwpByKxW_IgRhXxTO0kmZuMH-Ef5mpbH1blrwygBakahVvzbKSSF5dfveJv5XxYEu3c2k7avsxpbUC44iZwnjki_WOsWkuccCLA7xyk/s1600/20140420_171017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljJZFQlPuQcskRajP-iJvRSfazpG31NsyZeBGgiwpByKxW_IgRhXxTO0kmZuMH-Ef5mpbH1blrwygBakahVvzbKSSF5dfveJv5XxYEu3c2k7avsxpbUC44iZwnjki_WOsWkuccCLA7xyk/s1600/20140420_171017.jpg" /></a><span style="text-align: left;">All of these have been met, all that I needed was 'found'.</span></div>
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One of my most frequently repeated phrases these past weeks has been "look where we are!". We have been blessed by the countryside, birds, flowers, and beautiful medieval villages, along with the weather. Even the miserable weather has been full of beauty. Gods creation was rolled out in all its glory before us as spring has arrived. What a gift to winter tired Canadians such as we were. There is something about this gift of time, the physical expenditure, and the spiritual discipline which is a pilgrimage that heals, feeds, restores. It is a lived experience of grace.<br />
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Tonight we met with one of our friends from St. Jean Pied de Port, our very first days on the Camino. This journey for her has been life altering: her identity has been shaped through her time on the Camino and those she has journied with. It is wonderful to see the changes in her.<br />
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We are grateful to our many companions on this way, and glad that our journey in life includes those who share our lives most of the time: Eric, Vanessa, Jonathan, our families, friends and those who are part if our church family. This journey is but a stretch of a much longer road.... and the walking continues.<br />
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Buen Camino! This is the last post.<br />
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Adios. Go with God.<br />
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Karen.<br />
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ps: No James Strachen, we aren't home yet. R+R time, recovering from pilgrimage now<br />
pps: David Crawford...sorry no videos. WiFi here has challenges....<br />
ppps: Eric...we'll see you soon! <br />
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-22392186415474123592014-04-18T09:06:00.001-07:002014-04-18T09:06:42.156-07:00Journey's end<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Well, we have arrived. Our good weather held out all week, and so we walked in sunshine the final day from Santa Irene to Santiago. It was a reasonably long day -- 25 km or so -- and so it was with some pain in legs and feet that we made the last few steps into the plaza to see the Cathedral at last. The last few days in Galicia are up and down through the rolling hills, sometimes in pine forests, sometimes in chestnut and sometimes in eucalyptus, intersperced with what seems like very rich farmland. It is a lovely walk. <br />
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It was with mixed feelings that we concluded our walking pilgrimage. On the one hand, we are very glad to get those packs off our backs! On the other hand, we are not quite ready to be done with the experience of the Camino. </div>
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So we walked into Santiago, admired the cathedral -- there is something awesome about the Santiago cathedral, even with one tower shrouded in scaffolding for restoration work -- and then headed for our night's accomodation to clean up and rest a bit. Then on to the Peregrino office to get our offical "Compostela," the document that would have been called an "indulgence" in days gone by. It is the official "you did it!" document. And our names were recorded to be part of the prayers in the next pilgrim mass at the Cathedral. </div>
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We actually have yet to go into the Cathedral for anything other than worship, so we haven't done the end-of-pilgrimage things that are part of the tradition -- ascending the steps behind the altar to hug the apostle's statue, and such. Apparently some of these things one can no longer do, because they are causing wear and tear on the stone!</div>
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Next day we attended the pilgrim mass...</div>
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...and then headed out to Finisterre, the "end of the earth." Finisterre is beautiful -- near the end of a spit of land, with beaches both on the Atlantic side and on the protected harbour side. </div>
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We headed out to the lighthouse at the end of the point -- about an eight or nine km walk, which seems like a rest day now, especially without the packs. We took some lunch, and ate out by the lighthouse, and watched, as we ate, two large groups of dolphins swim 'round the point -- jumping, leaping, splashing. It was magical, but too far away for a photograph. <br />
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This is the other official end to the pilgrimage. Traditionally, pilgrims would burn their clothes here (which by now would be rather ripe, traditional pilgrims not being as scrupulous as we have been about washing), bathe in the Atlantic (not under the lighthouse, which is quite dangerous water), and watch the sun set. Then next morning they were to awake as if newly baptized, fresh and new into their post-Camino lives. We didn't burn anything (though it was clear some have), and we found the Atlantic pretty darned cold at this time...<br />
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Then we walked back up to the top of the ridge for the views -- and to see the old Celtic sacred stones from which one could see the sun's nightly "death" in the Atlantic, and its rise in the east. And after a fine meal of fish (this is a fishing village, after all) we headed back to Santiago. <br />
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Here in Santiago it is Semana Santa, with all those processions (see the previous post). It is an interesting time to be here; the processions make heavy use of symbolic imagery in order to bring people into the story. Here you can see one of the virgin Mary images -- with a sword sticking out of her! Graphic image to recall Zechariah's words in Luke 2: "and a sword shall pierce your own heart also."<br />
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The processions are interesting, and not what I expected. There is certainly a solemnity to them, but they are also accompanied by marching bands -- as Karen has said, it is clearly street theatre. An interesting way to proclaim, and enter into, the stories of the week. <br />
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So we are at the end of the Camino. It has been something on the order of 800 km travelled (though not all by walking). It has been fun! There have been difficult parts. It seems both like we only just got here to Spain, and that we have been here for ages. We have met folks and formed surprisingly deep relationships, talking about things with people we've just met that we might not reveal to friends back home -- because we share this Camino, this quest. <br />
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Did we find what we were looking for? That, I cannot answer. I think it has been good for Karen and I to share this experience, to be a couple without the complication of shared work responsibilities. I have tried as we have walked to live in the moment, to enter fully into the experience, to say "yes" to the life that the Camino has offered. But have I been changed in some way? I don't know. <br />
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I have rediscovered that I love Spain. It remains a distinctive place, with strong cultural identities that have resisted the pressure to become generic, with big-box stores and chain restaurants. It is still a friendly place, certainly on the Camino, where people will stop and talk even when there is no common language, where townsfolk take care of pilgrims with genuine friendliness and care -- even through we keep tramping through their space, tramping through their space... <br />
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Has something happened spiritually? That I find even harder to answer. It is as hard on the Camino to maintain a prayer discipline as it is at home. At the refugios, once you awake, you need to get on the road fairly quickly. There is little private space anywhere on the Camino. So my discipline was simply walking -- and I cannot say what walking has worked into my body or my soul. I do notice that I miss preaching -- that reflecting on Scripture and crafting sermons is in fact one of my primary spiritual practices. Going to church isn't too satisfying here -- I just can't follow the Spanish. I know enough about liturgy to know a bit of what is happening, and sometimes I can identify the Scripture that is being read -- but not being Catholic and not understanding Spanish means I am left out. So in some ways I feel lost and disconnected... But I knew when I came that I was looking for something deeper than all this -- deeper than ministry, deeper than thinking, even, something at the core of my being that I cannot access in "normal life." <br />
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So time will tell. What have I "walked in" to my soul? What have I "walked out?: What did I leave behind at the Cruz de Ferro when I dropped my stone where folks have dropped stones for hundreds of years? I am interested to find out. <br />
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But for now, the journey is ended, and a brief vacation begins. We will rest, and continue to experience Spain, and Easter in Santiago, and perhaps after a time of reflection I will be able to say more about what might have become new as a result of this Camino. <br />
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So over and out from me from Santiago. We'll post a few more about Easter, and Karen will finish her reflections here to wrap up this blog by Easter Sunday.<br />
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Thanks for your interest, and blessings and love towards your own journey, wherever and however you are travelling. <br />
Dave</div>
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-38580400244726010962014-04-18T04:19:00.003-07:002014-04-18T04:20:10.147-07:00Semana Santa: An Introduction to Holy Week in Spain.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We began this sabbatical process here in Europe in Paris on Ash Wednesday, and began walking the Camino Frances on the first Sunday of Lent. As we have moved through this season and moved into Spain, the preparations for Holy Week have been evident. For Canadians, even Canadian Christian Clergy, there is lots of ponder and notice that is different.<br />
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The first thing that I noticed was the posters advertising Holy Week. Not understanding what this is all about, I found myself taking photos, just to have a chance to look again, and see if I can make sense, and a connection to what this is all about.<br />
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What I noticed is that every town has some procession, usually several, leading up to and during holy week. All of the processions involve some of the sacred art work in churches, brought out and paraded as part of the tradition. And I began to notice that all processions were organized by groups in the towns, Confraternaties or brotherhoods. <br />
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The posters tell about what happens. But I didn´t get it. Why do people parade statues outside during holy week? Why are many of the people in the parades hooded, and why does it seem kind of creepy?</div>
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Let me address the creepy part first. </div>
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The hoods are traditional here, a way to disguise who the person is as they engage in penitence and mourning. Sorrow for the sacrifice of Jesus, and their own contrition and pennance, as they participate in a ritual which sums up all those ways we know we have somehow ´fallen short´ and for which we are sorry. Participation in these parades can be hard work, and the physical cost can be painful. The people who carry the statues may also choose to walk barefooted, to walk with Jesus, to share his pain. I think this is a way some chose to be open and vulnerable, rather than some sort of ´pain is good for you´´ mindset. Sort of like choosing to walk 600km on pilgrimage is chosing to be open to the hard work, blisters and other physical costs, to open ourselves to the gifts of the journey. The statues are very heavy, and those who carry them must exert a lot of energy and strength, and it is difficult, can be painful. But carrying such a load is a gift, an honour, and a way to say to God that they are at Gods service.</div>
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North Americans see the hoods and instinctively react to the image we know all too well as signs of hate. Some say the KKK copied these hoods, because they do cause people to react with fear. The idea, however, is that those who walk are not on display, not to be held up as examples of holy people. Their personal expression of faith, mourning, penitence, is to be hidden, while the story of Jesus to be held front and centre. They emphasise the humanness of the story, which is full of pain, sadness, sorrow, grief. These costumes underline that. You cannot look on these hoods and feel anything like joy.</div>
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There are many parades. We have just been to a couple so far - and will go to several more before the weekend is out. What they are is exactly what we try to do on Palm Sunday. They are a living experience of the story of Holy Week. Each parade takes place during the week where it would have been during the events in Jerusalem so long ago. The Palm Parade takes place on Sunday. On Maundy Thursday, there is a ¨Last Supper¨ procession, then at midnight, a ¨Jesus Flagelation¨ procession. It´s street theatre, with a sculpture from the church which shows the story, and peoples reaction to it. It includes the past, and characters from the present, from Church, State, and those who have organized the parade.<br />
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And like any parade, there is excitement, children, photos taken, tourist souveniers, etc etc etc.<br />
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(Just a wee side note; I saw these little guys in a shop window and thought it might be a Darth Vader Semana Santa....but no...those are not light sabres. They are matches, which are meant to look like the long lit candles many of the walkers carry during the night processions. )<br />
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Here are some photos from the parade with elements from the ¨Last Supper¨. The band played Galician bagpipes and drums, the children carried symbols of the entire story, and the sculptures were of the last supper, and the Maddonna, a beloved character in this story, for whom many feel sorrow for, as they connect with the sorrow a mother feels at the death of her son.<br />
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The characters telling the story are hooded, as are the bands. Those who are representatives of church or state or the confraternatiy are not hooded. I believe this photos, above, is the mayor of Santiago de Compostella. Dave and I followed the two fellows in red from city hall to the parade route.....<br />
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As the story continues to be told, the mood grows darker, the emotion more palpable. Tonight, Good Friday, we will go to a hillside, and then into Saturday, through the darkest grief. On Easter Sunday, we journey to the garden and to the joyful celebration at the cathedral. <br />
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This is Holy Week. A time to know that our story is Gods story, a story that is still being written.<br />
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Karen. <br />
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-87900556214800867202014-04-12T22:42:00.000-07:002014-04-12T22:42:39.279-07:00Home stretch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, we are here in a refugio in Boente, which you may have a hard time finding on a map! It's a smallish town near Melide, which in turn is nearly at the centre of Galicia. It's an eclectic group here at the refugio; one German, two Danes, one Dutch, two Norwegians, two from Northern Ireland and us Canadians. We are, perhaps, two days out of Santiago.<br />
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Even the peregrino statues seem to be brightening up! </div>
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The weather is sunny but not too hot -- the sun being somewhat unexpected for Galicia, which can tend towards dampness. We ave heard some cuckoos in the woods as we've walked, and often seen these unusual granaries -- we think they are for storing seed grain -- one per farmyard here in this area. </div>
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We are often walking on forest paths now, amid flowers and trees just coming into leaf. With the rain earlier, and now warm sun, spring is springing all around us. </div>
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We are a bit tired! It appears that we are past the blister stage now, but our feet, ankles, and achilles tendons never quite lose their soreness. We have decided that we are not ready for this experience to end -- but as for walking with a pack, well, we are pretty much ready to be done with that. </div>
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The Camino is busy these days! We are walking with at least two groups -- one of young adults and one of high school students. You must walk at least 100 km in order to get your official "Compostela" for completing the pilgrimage. That means starting in Sarria, which is what a lot of tour groups do. Many will carry your luggage to a predetermined destination each day (and the school group even arranges snacks along the way, which they graciously shared with us one day!). It's a good way to get a taste of pilgrimage, but it means that the atmosphere on the Camino is much different now. At times we might be walking in easy sight of 40 other pilgrims! The high school students -- let's just say we wish we had their energy and leave it at that. </div>
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We are still enjoying ourselves greatly. We are still having some significant conversations with other pilgrims, now as we draw near to the end. We are still hoping to reconnect with some of our original "gang," to find out how they are doing. And we are continuing to enjoy Spanish food! Below is a "warm salad" and "pimientos de Padron" -- delicious green peppers, which my guide tells me are quite hot one in ten peppers (we have yet to get a fiery one). </div>
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So it is with mixed feelings that we draw near to the end of the pilgrimage. Hard to believe it has been so many kilometres and so many days... </div>
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Tomorrow perhaps Santa Irene? and then Santiago... </div>
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Dave</div>
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-49988068017846588612014-04-09T08:44:00.000-07:002014-04-09T08:44:40.071-07:00Encounters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Well, time for a couple of stories -- encounters along the way. This is one of the great pleasures of the Camino. Most every day we meet someone new, have a good conversation, and bid each other "buen Camino!" and part. Perhaps we will see them again, perhaps not (though it is surprising how often we run into each other again...).<br />
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But sometimes our encounters are not with other pilgrims. The two pictures above, for instance, are of a camp in a particularly bleak section of the Meseta just before Astorga. It was sunny, but very windy and quite cool. And there in the bald open, tacked on to a ruined stone building, is a camp in which David has lived for the past five years. Andre (I think is his name) had joined him for a time. There is no water, running or otherwise. No power. But David has lived here, providing rest and free refreshments for passing pilgrims, for five years now. His camp is beginning to be noted in guidebooks. David and Andre are very friendly (and the ladies tell me they are very good looking), they make great toast with olive oil and herbs, and I have no idea how they are supported. But it is quite something to have such hospitality (and they absolutely refuse any payment) in such a bleak barren spot. <br />
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A few days later we were walking in El Bierzo, one of Spain's wine and agricultural districts. We thought it felt a lot like the Okanagan! As we walked down a road, an older man on a bicycle stopped to talk with us. He was, as he rode, listening to a MP3 with english lessons on it, and was eager for some practice. He told us to be careful, in Spain, to walk on the LEFT side of the road (safer) and asked how we liked Spain. We said we love it -- as we do. And then we talked a bit (here our language limitations hindered us) about what has happened in Spain. It used to be so prosperous, he said -- everyone with a job, a home, a car... And now the banks have taken them all from many. 25% unemployment or higher. <br />
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Why does this kind of crash happen, and who is served by this kind of crash? Why is it not better for people to stay in their homes, even if for a time they cannot make the payments, than for them to sit empty, repossessed by a bank? I am afraid that our economic system is not serving the well-being of people, but something else... <br />
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When he had to get back on his bike and go (he was on his way to see his grandchild!) he wished us well, shook our hands, and said a heartfelt "welcome to Spain." It was actually a very moving moment. He meant it. <br />
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And later, still in El Bierzo. It has been wet, and the roads are muddy -- particularly the farm tracks. We came upon a fairly tiny elderly woman and a young man in a small red car -- stuck deeply in the reddish mud between two vineyards. Mud or snow, we figured Canadians are usually skilled in getting cars unstuck! So we pitched in. After about fifteen minutes of work, we had the car out. Yes, we got a bit muddy, but our reward was seeing the relieved smiles on the woman and they young man. I think without us they would have been at it a long, long time. <br />
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Later, as we plodded up a path and they turned onto the paved road, they honked several times and waved... <br />
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Small things, but they can be meaningful. We have found folks here quite welcoming and kind. Next time I want to have better Spanish... <br />
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One more story. I was sitting in a bar, having met Tim, one of my favorite pilgrims. We were talking, as we drank some wine in the afternoon, and the conversation turned to feet. Tim was having trouble -- bad enough that his toes had begun to bleed. The bartender said gently, "I can help you with that." We looked at him. He ws a young fellow -- fairly good English. "I'm a podiatrist." We continued to look, not sure what to make of this. "I know," he said, "a bartender. But this is a family business, my office is in the back, so I tend bar sometimes between patients. I can see you now if you like." So this guy took Tim back to his office, and after a while, Tim came hobbling out. "It's true! Hurt like heck, but I think he's fixed me up. His office -- tools, plaques, it's all there." Later, a fellow who might have been the podiatrist's father came behind the bar. Asked us if we wanted another. I said no, Tim wanted a gin and tonic. "Nope," said the father, "you want some of this." (his English was not so good, so I'm taking some license) And he pulled out a bottle of local white wine. Poured us both some, gave us some of the best olives I've had, and continued a conversation. Lots of fun. And he charged us, in the end, what seemed like quite a bit too little. <br />
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People are great!<br />
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Dave</div>
Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-2251243134487827732014-04-05T09:49:00.000-07:002014-04-05T09:49:12.538-07:00O Cebriero<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We are here in O Cebreiro! This is the last "high place" on the Camino -- there are small patches of snow around us here, though the weather is quite mild. We walked, more or less, into the clouds here; the sun has occasionally poked through, it has rained a little today, but we are lacking the cold and wind of the last "high place," the Cruz de Ferro, where we were perpetually cold. <br />
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It is beautiful here, as you can see. There are views like the above on three sides of the town of O Cebreiro, which is at the edge of Galicia, the province of which Santiago is the capital. <br />
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O Cebriero is notable for a couple of things. It has the oldest church on the Camino, dating from the ninth century. It is a lovely church -- here is a view down the main aisle, and one picture of the baptistry. The font is also ninth century. <br />
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The other thing about O Cebreiro is that a longtime priest here was really one of the very first and most important promoters of this Camino. He did some study about pilgrimage and its advantages, spoke about it throughout Europe, and in 1984, went through the Camino Frances (the one we are on) and painted the yellow arrows that we all have been following ever since. The priest is buried in the church here in O Cebreiro. <br />
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So... it was a hard climb up today. Now we are enjoying something of a rest. There is a kind of "Banff-like" atmosphere to this place; it is a real tourist spot. But like Banff, it is beautiful. About 150 km left to Santiago, so we are in the home stretch now. <br />
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Blessings to you all at home! There are still several stories I'd like to share, and time and technology are proving to be challenges. But as able, I'd like to tell you about the fellow who stopped his bike to talk with us one day, about the economy here and what it is about our world that creates collapses like what has happened here, about walking in the rain, about the Cruz de Ferro...<br />
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Another time! <br />
Dave</div>
Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-84658894843678882602014-04-04T13:10:00.000-07:002014-04-04T13:10:11.974-07:00more tales from the road...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So people want to know: "what's it really like on the Camino?" A few more stories:<br />
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We left Leon early in the morning, facing grey drizzle, which held off for the time being,but hung around all day. <br />
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The way out of town is just what you'd expect: the way out of....back streets, industrial,not the nice neighborhoods. The sidewalk is slanted and your feet hurt walking on it.<br />
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Stopping for coffee, and a washroom break, you adjust the pack and clothing depending on the weather. You have some food with you,in case you need it later.<br />
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A couple we know are side lined right now. He's had health issues that had him in hospital for three days at the start of the Camino, and now is suffering dizzy ness due to inner ear issues. They've made it such a long way to find themselves wondering what will happen next. But they are just in the same place all of us are in life: living it. The road we walk takes us all kind of unexpected places. What we do while we are there....that is what matters.<br />
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We arrive at a refugio. These days its cold outside and inside. Not a lot of heat provided for 5 euros, which is the amount the law allows for standard service. If there us extras thrown in, they can charge more.... But in this low season, not many do. Get a shower,wash clothes and hang them up....Rest a bit, then go find food. It is Spain, so early dinners are possible at 8 pm for pilgrims. Most places don't have kitchen staff on much before that. So much of this time is just before the Camino walking season really takes off, so the last few days we have been alone at our evening meals.<br />
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Since Leon on March 27 we have stayed at:<br />
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Villadangos del Paramo:<br />
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Hospital de Orbigo:<br />
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Astorga:<br />
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Rabanal del Camino:<br />
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El Acebo:<br />
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Ponferrada:<br />
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Pieros:<br />
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and La Portela de Valcarce. That is 8 days in a row with someplace between 12 and 22 km per day of trekking with a back pack through rain, sleet, fog, howling wind and some simple drizzle, along with some simply lovely overcast skies. <br />
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After Rabanal we climbed the mountain pass up to the Cruz de Ferro during a terrific day of wind, sleet, rain and fog. Dave stayed on the pathway for part of the day and slogged through streams of water on the path and snow drifts. I stuck to the road way and stayed a bit drier. We were grateful for a fireplace at Foncebaddon where we could dry off a bit and warm up before continuing. Our time at the Cruz de Ferro was brief: such a cold wind!<br />
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Dave had chosen to take the bottom of his zip off pants off so he could avoid sodden pant legs in the wind: his knees were scarlet in the wind and rain.<br />
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That said....it was a really great day on the road. Hard work, and we were thrilled to have a place to stay in El Acebo with heat we could control.... A hostal, with a room of our own! And a great cook in the kitchen. Nothing like warmth and good food to make a hard day on the road worth it! <br />
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Tomorrow (Saturday) we head uphill again, this time over the last pass at O'Cebrerio, into Galicia. The forecast is scattered showers, and a high of 18c. Yahoo! <br />
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-13685639670520933062014-04-04T11:32:00.000-07:002014-04-04T11:32:08.881-07:00Birdwatching on the Camino is fun!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We really enjoy birdwatching, and walking the Camino gives lots of opportunity to enjoy the birds, along with other "critters". One day we passed a sheep pen moments after a lamb was born. We often see sheep, goats, horses and cattle, while many cats have made friends, while "guard dogs" have barked at one end while their tail has wagged at the other.<br />
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But we love watching the birds.<br />
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These two - the kestrel and this wagtail,were at the castle in Ponferrada.<br />
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Storks are busy nesting these days. This fella flew away with a full beak of nesting material.<br />
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This little guy is a European Robin, about as happy a little fella as you'd expect.<br />
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This one has a green back - not sure who he was.<br />
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This one is Robin.<br />
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This crested fella is a lark.<br />
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This is a red legged partridge.<br />
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A wagtail.<br />
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Easter chicks......in a shop window.<br />
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A European goldfinch.<br />
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Not too sure, but what a great spot to perch!<br />
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-87268878296242032792014-03-31T11:44:00.001-07:002014-03-31T11:44:48.288-07:00Stories I could tell you.........okay I will!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So, the time has come to tell a few Camino stories. Like the one about the girl, sound asleep, who fell out of her top bunk in the middle of the night. She's walking the Camino with her mom, and scared her half to death. She had her arms inside her sleeping bag and couldn't break her fall, so was knocked out when she hit the floor. She said her mothers face was the loveliest thing she'd ever seen when it was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes.<br />
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Or there is the story about a gang of trekkers on the first leg of the Camino Frances out of St. Jean Pied de Port. They were stopped by a French Farmer, 20km "off Camino". He gave them a ride in the back of his manure spreader. <br />
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There are people like this man named David, outside of Astorgia, who got 5 years has lived on the Camino, with the goal of serving pilgrims. He has food, a fire. A place for rest and conversation, out on the edge of the meseta. <br />
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Dave and I met a couple, flush with love, in Leon. They'd walked,nay, 'floated' over 40km together that day, to reach the city. They met on the road, weeks before and have been together ever since. He's from Europe; she's North American.<br />
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One of the stories to consider are the 'behind the scenes supporting cast' type. All those who make it their vocation to support pilgrims. Hospetalerios are typically volunteers, who staff the aubergues we stay at. Many have been pilgrims, and take on the chores of cleaning, registration, and taking care of basic needs which arise. Most have stories, advice, insight: all are there because they value the spiritusl work of pilgrimage. We met one man this morning at the hostal/hotel we were at, preparing to head out to his stint volunteering. His job is to support pilgrims, and he began with us by tying a bootlace.<br />
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Then there are all those who set up shop so that pilgrims will have places to buy groceries, a meal, basic supplies, often in remote areas. Some have chosen to make caring for pilgrims a well considered vocation, investing time and money to build attractive, functional spaces for meals, washrooms, laundry, sleeping.<br />
We have had lovely meals and clean sheets given to us, the loan of warm gloves one cold morning (we mailed them back!), and people who reached out with care and interest to tired, footsore people at the end of a long day. Just the other day, as I offered to help prepare for dinner in the lovely homey spot we landed after a soaking wet day, I was smilingly told "you have done your work today already (walking): now it is my time to work. You go relax."<br />
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Ah yes, and then there is the story of a man in a big yellow poncho, known for having "emergency chocolate" in his pack, which he shares at moments which require some extra help. The other day a young fella from Ireland was laughing as he recalled being given chocolate on one difficult day. <br />
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There are a lot of special people out here on the road!<br />
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Buen Camino! Karen.<br />
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-4653813856961295392014-03-26T01:51:00.000-07:002014-03-26T01:51:59.963-07:00Tough days<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times....After two weeks of really exceptional spring weather, we woke this morning to snow on the ground and rooftops. Our arrival on the meseta was met with gusts of wind, followed by grey sky and rain. Blisters have gone past the point of "grin and bear it" for Karen. She, along with a marathon runner from Atlanta, limped in for a Doctors consultation and some rest days are bringing healing. Dave continued walking full days and experienced one day of rain, gale and misery, followed by a morning in wind. Knees are sore. Yesterday Karen rode in a luggage transfer van, then a bus to meet Dave, and met one of our compadres on the bus, heading off for a rest. After a night in a refugio with coughing bunkmates and one poor girl with stomach flu retching down the hall on a regular basis all night, we now have bus tickets in hand for Leon. It is the time of the Camino when all of our various ailments have reached the point where we can no longer deny that something must be done. <br />
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Dave now. Karen's feet kept her resting and seeking medical attention, so we agreed for some "solitude time" and I kept walking. The first day (the last day of our good weather) was great! Nice scenery -- I was walking through a valley -- birds, and the good kind of solitude in which you feel one with the universe. Refugio that night was in a place that had opened only the day before! <br />
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The next day was different. The first task was to climb out of the valley -- a bit of a grunt -- and then straight down another steep hill onto the plain. I thought the clouds didn't really look like rain, but then it started and continued for the rest of my walk. I had planned a rest in the next town -- but everything was closed. And the next. And there wasn't really another next -- not for 18 km. So I plowed ahead through the rain and the wind, needing to keep walking just to keep warm, no shelter, no places to rest, and really, not another soul on the trail. When I went through one town, it was completely deserted except for one stray dog and an old man leaning against a ruined barn as I left (there is a sadness here in the smaller towns, maybe like the sadness in small Canadian towns. Ruins behind doors onto the street, "for sale" signs weathering on the broken windows, empty cafes...)<br />
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By the time I got to Fromista, my knees were sore, my boots full of water, my bones chilled. Hoping to meet Karen -- and needing some real sleep -- I booked a hotel room. But Karen was staying back where I began the day. <br />
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Karen now: I had seen the doctor and gone to get my "wound dressing" by the nurse. She made sure the dressing was big enough there was no way to put my boots back on. In sandles, on a wet wet wet day, it was back to my bunk to a warm sleeping bag (heat is never on in the daytime or through the night at a refugio) to read my kindle book and visit with new friends, also reduced to feet up and off the floor status. <br />
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Dave: As the day wore on, friends came into Fromista. One was ready to give up (he is now in Leon, where we are headed). One Korean who has been struggling on a sprained ankle is also headed for medical attention in Leon, afraid that he is doing serious damage. One friend that I thought I would never see on the trail, he seemed so strong, is now holding tight in this town waiting for bleeding feet to heal. <br />
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So... Monday was a tough day! I seem to be one of the lucky ones, because my feet are okay and my aches and pains seem mostly to clear up by morning. But there are a lot of walking wounded out here -- or NOT walking wounded. To cap it all, last night in our room two of the four of us were coughing and hacking, and one from the room next door spent most of the night being violently ill. I can imagine worse places to be sick than a cold refugio, packed tight with people I barely know -- but there aren't many. Tough days. <br />
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No matter what your endeavor, there are tough days. No matter what your job, no matter how much you love it, there are days when you will wish for something, anything, else. Every season, every relationship, every task, has its share of tough days. <br />
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Today the sky is sparkling blue -- at least for now. There is snow on the ground, but it feels like a perfect day to walk. But we won't be walking. We also are headed for Leon for rest and recuperation. Perhaps this is the time when we will also begin to process all that has happened so far, take account, and prepare for what comes next.<br />
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What do we do with tough days? Give up? Tough it out? Look for something to fix? Any might be possible. Knowing that tough times are bound to come helps me to get through the ordinary ones. But it is important to know when to stop, and when to fix, and when (and how) to be kind and gentle to ourselves. Grace is often something we know best in times like these. When we will accept the care, compassion, and time we need to be well.<br />
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So we, and most of our friends, will keep walking. But not today. Today we will rest and heal, and give thanks that this, too, is part of a Camino pilgrimage. Rest. Grace. Sunshine on snowy rooftops. And a warm spot to enjoy another cafe con leche.....</div>
Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-43919888336492944382014-03-22T00:25:00.000-07:002014-03-29T08:10:54.495-07:00Beautiful, Beautiful, Burgos.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Images from a lovely rest day in Burgos, where Christopher Columbus spoke with royalty....right down from where we stayed!<br />
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Fellow pilgrims, with whom we've shared some miles. Images ate mostly from Burgos cathedral, which is a spectacular jewel if a building..<br />
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-80561463597372892372014-03-22T00:21:00.000-07:002014-03-29T08:08:10.577-07:00Ride a bike to Burgos? it seemed like a way to have an easy day....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Okay, you tell me. What is wrong with the idea of a 54km bike ride in the spring when you haven't been on a bike for any appreciable length if time since last September.<br />
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Exactly. You've got it. And yes...that's right, too. In fact...there are many reasons to suggest.....<br />
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We leapt at the chance to ride bikes for a day, be free of our packs, and complete two long days of walking into Burgos, in one day on a bike. What we didn't consider was our lack of bike riding muscles, the terrain if the Camino, and, how nice it is to sit down sometimes. <br />
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Well,in case you are wondering, we did it! 54 km. On. The. Camino. Trail. We stuck to the trail, which meant two really difficult rocky steep technical rides down AFTER getting the bikes up the steep, rocky. Technical hills up.<br />
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At Atepeurca was the worst. This is the location of a significant archeological site for ancient human remains. We are glad ours didn't join those....<br />
<a href="http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atapuerca_Mountains">http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atapuerca_Mountains</a><br />
There was a lot if pavement riding, also, which was mostly enjoyable. Our lack of preparation upped the challenge.<br />
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Overall, we are glad we did it. Next time....we'd stick to the road more, skipping the bad uphill sections. There were two long downhills through pine woods which were loads of fun.<br />
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We'll sit down again sometime... Maybe.</div>
Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-51475205976979114662014-03-22T00:15:00.001-07:002014-03-22T00:15:35.203-07:00Wednesday: storks, and wonderful hosts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Leaving town Wednesday, we passed a lot of storks nests.<br />
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At lunch we enjoyed a small square, the company of other pilgrims, and reading the history of the place.<br />
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Heinrich and Sophia, from Capetown, now living in the UK, and Brenda and Gill from Ontario were companions that day.<br />
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More storks nests on tower of church in Belorado where we enjoyed a meal.<br />
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New friends, Tim from down under and Brenda and Gill from Ontario.<br />
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Wonderful hosts at Waslala guest house in Belorado. A home where we found rest, renewal, and caritas, lived. </div>
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<a href="http://casawaslala.com/">http://casawaslala.com</a></div>
Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-62365438785067097852014-03-22T00:08:00.000-07:002014-03-22T00:08:38.715-07:00Tuesday means a hop, skip, and some fowl stories...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On Tuesday we were up bright and early, waiting at a bus stop. We decided to hop across Logrono, which is a city with lots of walking to do, but isn't on our list of "must see". Our connections meant bypassing Navarette and arrival in Najera about 8:35 am. Two long days of walking miles passed in a little over half an hour (how humbling!), which helps us build in necessary time for rest days into our schedule.<br />
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We had breakfast in Najera, then started walking uphill, out of town. Our way took us into the wind,across farming country.<br />
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At our first rest stop (coffee and bathrooms) we ran into our Camino friend Fred, who we had met first in Roncesvalles . Later on that day, as we arrived in Santo Domingo de La Calzada, we found James, from Montreal, then the amazing Simone, from England. She is a powerhouse, covering more territory every day than most.<br />
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Our destination was Santo Domingo de LA Calzada. For a story about a miracle involving chickens and Santo Domingo, read this link:</div>
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<a href="http://www.aug.edu/augusta/iconography/dominicCalzada.html">http://www.aug.edu/augusta/iconography/dominicCalzada.html</a></div>
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The cathedral is very beautiful.<br />
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Like all medieval church buildings, the story of faith found in the Bible, and the story of faith lived by ordinary people through the ages, is told in the architecture. Many people could not read, nor did they have access to printed versions of Scripture. So the stories were told in carvings, artwork,stained glass and in the awe and majesty of the building itself.<br />
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The story of faith told in this building includes a rooster and hen who remind us of the great faith of many who have walked the pilgrimage before us.<br />
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PS....sometimes my technology does not do what I wanted to do. Please forgive all editing issues.blessings on all Karen</div>
Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-74795560339854880352014-03-21T15:12:00.001-07:002014-03-21T15:12:19.079-07:00If it is Monday this must be Viana<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On Monday we left Los Arcos for Viana. On our way we visited Torres Del Rio, with it'd lovely hexagonal church. Very small in size, but lovely.<br />
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We had a long walk to Viana. One of the churches there,next to the refugio, is in ruins. Its lovely 'bones' show its beauty as and grace, nevertheless.<br />
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We went to an evening service at the church in the main square. Its' claim to fame is that it is the burial place of Cesar Borgia.<span id="goog_1192359002"></span><span id="goog_1192359003"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.google.es/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&ei=5bYsU8njJsWb1AWjzYDoCw&url=http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cesare_Borgia&cd=17&ved=0CIgBEBYwEA&usg=AFQjCNEFBAuLdvqQKHk8gHA9bltbh7GG4A">https://www.google.es/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&ei=5bYsU8njJsWb1AWjzYDoCw&url=http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cesare_Borgia&cd=17&ved=0CIgBEBYwEA&usg=AFQjCNEFBAuLdvqQKHk8gHA9bltbh7GG4A</a><br />
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At the end of the service (held in the sacristy, where music manuscripts and other elements are stored...a side chsoel to main church), the priest called all peregrinos forward. He spoke with each one as and blessed each one. Very touching. Very kind.</div>
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This little 'direction' for pilgrims was translated into many languages.</div>
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The church in Viana town square.</div>
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com031230 Viana, Navarre, Spain42.514030000000012 -2.372941999999966442.502325500000012 -2.3931119999999662 42.525734500000013 -2.3527719999999666tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-50539666426355796422014-03-21T13:11:00.000-07:002014-03-21T13:11:07.528-07:00Photos: Vistas of food, history, and scenery.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Well, here we are in Burgos, after 5 days on the Camino. We had left Pamplona and walked the heights of Perdun, where we are told, from here on our souls will be healthy for the rest of the Camino.</div>
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Looking ahead from the heights towards Ultrega, where we spent a lovely evening at a private Auberge. Amazing food cooked by grandma, included a plate of steamed new vegetables: artichokes, asparagus, broad beans, leeks, peas.</div>
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We left Ultrega and walked on a glorious spring day.</div>
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A sign read " Spain:the place with many empty houses and many people without houses.". The economic issues of this country have been challenging. Many towns do have new developments, and few people living there. In an attempt to boost the economy the government had created many building initiatives before the bubble burst.</div>
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Another bubble burst. Blisters are treated by piercing with a needle and leaving thread in as a drain. This was the first blister on this toe. It now has a layer of old and new....part of the wear if walking with a pack every day.</div>
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Estella. Such a lovely place.</div>
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Leaving Estella, passing by the wine fountain at Irsche. An old tradition of providing care as and hospitality to pilgrims has become a wine and water fountain. We passed at 8 am on a Sunday, and the fountain wasn't on yet.</div>
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-5672563328214126792014-03-21T09:26:00.000-07:002014-03-29T08:05:45.071-07:00Cathedral<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This is Burgos cathedral -- the oldest Gothic cathedral in the Iberian peninsula, I believe, dating from the 12th century. It is amazingly ornate; a beautiful and complex, soaring achievement of art and architecture. <br />
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I love cathedrals! There is something so awesome about entering a stone building, and having the arches (supported by huge stone pillars) draw your eyes upward, what is it, nine or ten stories up to the roof? <br />
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(This is St. Eustache, the cathedral in Paris where Louis XIV received his first communion) In the evening, the ceiling disappears into darkness; voices and music echo in an unmistakeable way, and to hear an organ play, it feels like the building has a voice. These places of worship have been here, in some cases, for 800 years or more. It is impossible to enter, for me, without being awestruck. <br />
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And yet, there is a complicated side to these amazing places. <br />
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You may notice in this picture, from Santo Domingo de la Calzada, that the chancel area of the church is fenced off from the rest of the church. I tried to imagine what it might be like to lead worship from behind a fence! (there may be several reasons for such a fence, few of which I know). You might also notice two prominent statues lying in front of the chancel, basically in the middle of the church. Many cathedrals have such monuments to patrons, royals, wealthy donors who enabled churches and chapels to be built. Again, there may be many reasons for these -- we do similar things in our own churches, after all -- but it does make it seem clear to me that these magnificent buildings do more than honor God! <br />
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I also notice that Mary and Jesus periodically are shown wearing crowns. Again -- there is good theological backing for this, but I can't help feeling a bit uneasy. Is this an attempt to legitimize and normalize the power held by royals and nobility? "Look, Jesus is crowned; this is normal and good and has divine authority." Is it an attempt to show that Jesus is the REAL king here, that royals and nobles only hold a temporary and subordinate authority? Maybe both. <br />
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What worries me is that I suspect that God does not aspire to the kind of power and control and privilege that earthly royals (be they kings and queens, political figures, or the very rich) hold. I suspect that God's power and authority is different, a profound challenge to the way we order our world, and that putting a crown on Jesus' head in some important ways sends just the wrong message. <br />
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That said, I reckon ALL our messages, ABSOLUTELY ALL of them, are mixed. Cathedrals with royal tombs? Crowns on Mary's head? Flags in church? Remembrance processions in church? Taking an offering, having a minister preach -- it's all mixed. We do our best to honour God, but we are constantly tripped up by our limitations, our hangups, our own mixed motives, even our passionately held beliefs. God is beyond all our attempts to understand, and to some extent challenges them all. <br />
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Occasionally, though, we limited human beings are able to come up with something that, complex as it may be, comes close enough to take your breath away. <br />
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Dave</div>
Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-75582102537664678952014-03-16T13:07:00.000-07:002014-03-16T13:07:24.112-07:00help....?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well....it is the sabbath day. We took our sabbath yesterday, and walked 22 km today. But we do want your help!<br />
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The question we are exploring with others here is this: 'What makes a pilgrimage religious?'. And if it is religious, how is that different from those who are walking for exercise? Or cultural reasons?<br />
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We're interested in your thoughts. Please post....any thoughts, insight_, advice you may have.<br />
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Thanks.<br />
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Buen Camino! ADios.<br />
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Karen and Dave.</div>
Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-54956550420807056092014-03-15T14:44:00.000-07:002014-03-15T14:44:37.674-07:00A glorious and adventuresome day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, we have had our first significant deviation from plan... We arose Friday morning in Uterga, on yet another spectacular sunny day. We headed out among the almond blooms and the green fields towards, we thought, the town of Cirauqui, some 15 kilometres away. <br />
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Our track took us to Puente la Reina, a lovely town with a very famous medieval bridge. We spent some time soaking in the sights and getting some groceries for a picnic lunch. The church in this town is also well known, and we stopped a moment there. <br />
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From Puenta la Reina we headed for Cirauqui. The beauty of the new green fields, the rolling hills, the flowering trees, the pruned vineyards was always with us, though we are noticing (as the vineyards become more common) that things are drying up a bit. Cirauqui turns out to be a lovely town on top of a hill - streets with steps, and winding narrow alleys running up and around the steep hill. Very interesting town! But we decided that we still had energy for some more walking, and wanted to keep enjoying the fabulous day. So off we went for Lorca-- just five or seven kilometres more. Down the Roman road from Cirauqui, across the remains of an old Roman bridge and finally, to a smooth path through the fields towards Lorca.<br />
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And there we discovered that the refugio we were bound for was closed. No, sorry -- no accommodation here! But try the next town -- another 8 kilometres! Uh, oh. It was getting late and we were running low on food and water. A store was still open, so a quick snack and then we were off down the path again, heading into a spectacular sunset and the town of Villatuerta. We arrived just as it was becoming dark -- to discover that this refugio, also, was closed. <br />
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By this time it was dark, and we knew that the waymarkers are hard to find in the dark. We were tired, and had no confidence in our ability to find our way five more kilometres to Estella, a small city. <br />
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So... we decided to arrange a rescue. Our handy-dandy Rough Guide, fortunately, had a section for Estella, so we phoned a hotel, booked a room, and got a number for a taxi. Jose the cab driver found us, and hauled us the few kilometres to our hotel. Saved! <br />
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So now we are on another rest day -- the extra km added some blisters and we hve several long days ahead of us -- refugios are even fewer and farther between up ahead! Fortunately Estella is also a fascinating and beautiful city. <br />
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And we are thinking about folks back home, as McDougall United begins its work with Habitat for Humanity -- today has been the first big build day! Blessings and best wishes to you all. <br />
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Photos are backwards: apologies! Start at bottom and work your way up! Sunset at end of day...<br />
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-53636857664741022112014-03-12T14:51:00.000-07:002014-03-12T14:51:10.462-07:00Pamplona<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
(Dave) Here we are in Pamplona, on a bit of a rest day -- only about five kilometres with the packs today! It does feel like a rest, as does being in a hotel room rather than a room full of relative strangers. <br />
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So... last time I checked in I was about to begin the Camino. Now I'm about 72 kilometres in, and Karen is about 45 or so. We're a bit footsore, and can always feel our knees and calves and shoulders -- but all in all, we're fine! But... I'm getting ahead of myself. <br />
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I began in St. Jean Pied-de-Port, after having gotten off the train from Paris. Odd beginning a pilgrimage on a bullet train! The European train system is amazing, but that story is for another time. By the time we got on the much slower train from Bayonne to St. Jean, almost all of the passengers were pilgrims. People from Canada, Australia, England, Ireland, Korea... We quickly formed up and went looking for the Camino office, where we were oriented to the Camino and led to our first refugio. We packed into crowded sleeping rooms -- bunks as little as 5 inches apart -- and went off to a pretty decent dinner, and got to know one another a bit. Early to bed, and early to rise -- and by 7:30 I was off towards Roncevalles and Spain. <br />
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The weather was spectacular -- has been every day we've been here so far -- and I was part of some of the later folks to leave St. Jean. I was walking with James, another Canadian we met on the train all the way from Paris. My pack was too heavy, and as I have discovered since, ill fitted to me! But the conversation was great, and the scenery wonderful. The high route -- la route Napoleon -- was closed because of snow, so we travelled the low route -- on the side of the highway almost all the way. <br />
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The first day is hard -- 27 km, with lots of ups and downs, and almost all on hard pavement. Most of us had some equipment issues, and so it seemed like the distance kept increasing in front of us. Eventually a group of about six of us banded together, encouraging one another, sharing food and chocolate at low moments. It was an amazingly diverse group, really -- James and I, middle aged Canadians, a young French woman, two young Koreans who could barely speak English, and a somewhat wild Irish 20-something fellow. Frank, the Irishman, and the Koreans could have left us in the dust, I'm quite sure -- but they stuck with us and we made it through together. <br />
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More later on the way community seems to form on the Camino -- we're all looking for connections, I think, so things happen very quickly and people seem willing to talk more deeply than usual, right away. <br />
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One of the fun things... James and I were in the rear, as usual, when we came upon a sleeping bag lying in the middle of the trail. "I'll bet someone up ahead will want this," we thought, so we picked it up. Sure enough, one of the Koreans had dropped it unwittingly. Next day it was a pair of gloves -- those were James's, dropped by accident when it warmed up in the later morning. I began to think of myself as the guy who picked up after the others! Then on the second night, in Zubiri, we had a chance to gather some of our laundry together and throw it in a machine. We did so -- and I came out one sock short. Well, I looked, our friends looked too, but we didn't find it. I figured the refugio person who put the laundry in probably dropped it somewhere. Until next day, when I complained about it. Fred, the other Irishman in our group, said brightly: "I found a sock!" Sure enough, there it was. I had left it behind in Ronscevalles, and he had picked it up figuring that someone might want it down the line... <br />
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So here we are, resting in Pamplona. We have some new friends, we have sore feet, and we have our first miles behind us. We are beginning to acclimatize to walking with a pack on, and we are remembering how much we love Spain and Spanish culture. And we are entering into the Camino experience, an odd mixture of bodily stress and pleasure (think spring, scenery, cafe con leche, jamon iberico, tapas...), deep conversation and inarticulate searching, new friendship and the challenge of close contact with near strangers. <br />
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We are well under way. So far, so good! </div>
Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-74125493906060038072014-03-09T04:00:00.004-07:002014-03-09T04:01:35.132-07:00St. Jean Pied de Port, where the main roads in France gather to go over the Pyrenees<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We arrive in St. Jean Pied de Port on Saturday, after travelling via train from Paris. We checked into the Alburgue, then headed out to see the sites and figure out where the walkers were to begin on Sunday morning, The weather is spectacular, 20c, with lovely warm breezes, which only cooled well into the evening. Dinner at a local restaurant included Basque ham and Basque cake. Delicious!<br />
On Sunday morning, the refugio sprang to life at 6:15, with a breakfast of bread and coffee and hot chocolate served. Then Dave was ready to make the ascent through the pass. Karen (not in the photos but behind the camera) stayed in SJPP Sunday, and will make her way to Roncesvalles via car, to meet the tired mountain climbers tonight.<br />
I've been happy to spend time today with Beverly, who is doing research for her dissertation (sociology) on pilgrimage and community building. Together we have talked about pilgrimage, justice work, community building and how simple things change the foundation of the world, relationships and life. We went to mass at the local church, where the 9 am service was in Basque. We were both touched by the liturgy, and by the community of men we found ourselves sitting with. We followed them to a local restaurant where they filled the space with conversation..... AND...we found WiFi, good coffee and some crepes! What a way to begin a sabbath day!<br />
Buen Camino all! <br />
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-66506474744543110702014-03-09T03:02:00.001-07:002014-03-29T08:12:18.256-07:00James, son of Zebedee in Paris<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
St. James in Paris: <br />
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The routes to Santiago begin wherever you are in the world: out your own front door. In Europe, there are many routes, which have histories of their own. Dave and I will walk the route in Spain called the Camino Fraces, so called because it begins in St. Jean Pied de Port France, which is where three of the major routes through France connect to cross the mountains into Spain. In Paris, the Camino is marked by a mjajor road, the Rue St. Jacques, which was two blocks from our hotel, running by the Sorbonne. We visited the Tour St. Jacques, which is a tower that is all which remains of a large church, and Notre Dame Catheral, a central fixture for all who visit Paris, with a 850 year history. Built on an island in the river Seine, this enormous stone structure began its life when all who lived nearby were in mediaval huts. Imagine what it would be like, to enter a structure with towers stretching 10 stories up to the sky, when your own home would require you to stoop to enter the doorway.<br />
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re: St. James http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_James_the_Great<br />
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<img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/9e/Cross_Santiago.svg/170px-Cross_Santiago.svg.png" /><br />
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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint-Jacques_Tower<br />
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-54420466646478962732014-03-05T11:44:00.001-08:002014-03-05T11:44:56.889-08:00Beginnings...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, beginnings seem important. Here we are in Paris! We have now been up for over 34 hours straight, and have just returned to our room to crash after having been at Notre Dame cathedral for one of their Ash Wednesday services . Our biggest challenge next to the language? Keeping awake! <div>
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Our flights were all fine. The only hitch is that for the fourth trip in a row, now, we have lost luggage to deal with. Mine came through but Karen's did not. Is there some lesson here that we're not paying attention to? We were told it would be here by now but no sign it's even left Amsterdam yet. Oh, well. </div>
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We wandered around Paris a bit once we made it into the city, and discovered early spring! The trees are showing buds, and some trees and plants are flowering -- some quite enthusiastically! The baggage person said this was Europe's coldest winter in 50 years but spring looks to be bringing the place back to life. That's a good start! </div>
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We also wandered into Notre Dame and there is a big baptismal font (we think) at the entrance to the church with the inscription (is my foggy memory getting it right?) "I am the way that seeks for wayfarers."The way" is, in Spanish, the camino. The bishop in his sermon (I think I got the gist of it) was inviting us to join Jesus in his lenten fast -- to fast from some things that give us pleasure to remind us that ultimately, we are hungry and thirsty most of all for God. But again, he kept referring to Lent as a "walk." </div>
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There are some things we'll be giving up this Lent in order to walk the camino. I hope Karen's pack is not one of them! But for me, this journey is not so much one of holding back but of entering in. Still, I hope not to be distracted on the way from the main purpose of this walk -- and of life -- which is to experience the grace and presence of God, and to live into that fully. </div>
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Buen camino -- but first sleep. </div>
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-73577002393551250762014-03-04T09:38:00.000-08:002014-03-04T09:38:45.127-08:00Map of Camino Frances<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The route you walk begins at your own front door.....<br /></td></tr>
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-573122030149044362.post-73422285913108573532014-03-03T11:01:00.001-08:002014-03-03T11:01:25.330-08:00Shrove Tuesday is a day to give it all up....okay okay, I get the message!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>pssssst! </i><br />
<i> This is Karen, again...</i><br />
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<i> Dave and I will both be writing posts, and this is the place to read them. This blog site is under my name, and because we're sticking with the technology we know how to deal with....it's going to say from "Karen". But is will be from both of us. </i><br />
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<i> Just an FYI, as we get going here.</i><br />
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Okay.....now, that I'm done with the "announcements" here is the post! <br />
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So, I said in the first post that I've had an arthritis flare up. It seems that I am getting more and more like my mother. She had gouty arthritis, the kind that makes joints swell and fingers stiff, and sometimes, when she would bang one of those joints against something she would experience pain she said was terrible.<br />
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Well, now I know what she was talking about. I was on a hike up and down a mountain two weeks ago when I did the awkward thing and tripped, going uphill. Hit my toe joint against a metal bar which was creating a 'stair' and after hopping around a good while, felt much better. Two hours later, my foot was a raging ball of pain, toe joint hot, swollen, bruised looking, miserable. I had to sit around with an ice bag on my foot for a couple of days, while the swelling subsided until I could put on shoes again.<br />
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Seems I have gout. What a miserable word that is. No-one wants to have gout. It seems like an embarrassing kind of arthritis. Which is why I'm pretty sure my mother never used the word. Never.<br />
(for those who are the worrying kind, yes, I've seen my doctor, yes, I'd done the blood work, and no, my doc is not at all worried about me going "walkabout." So far, all I've got is an episode, no significant other issues, no reason to worry. You get older, you're gonna get some wear and tear going on. That's me.)<br />
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Now, the good news is that gout is one arthritis that can be managed by changing some eating habits, along with medication when needed. So far I don't have to worry about my bloodwork. But with eating habits, I can also minimize possible future outbreaks. This is much better news than being told there is little that can be done but medicate to deal with pain. I can help minimize possible recurrence by giving up/minimize alcohol for a while. It's gonna be hard, seeing as I'm about to walk through the most productive wine area in the world, Rioja. And I can cut down red meat, poultry, asparagus, (among other things) severely. Not being able to eat sweetbreads and "offal" really, well, now, that is gonna be easy. HA!<br />
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Now, along with realizing that we didn't really plan to arrive in Paris on Ash Wednesday to start a pilgrimage which ends in Santiago de Compostella on Easter Weekend, it seems that we have another co-incidence with my arthritis flare up. My sense of humor was tickled, when I was looking around for definition for Shrove Tuesday and I found this little tidbit: <a href="http://thisischurch.com/christian_teaching/shrovetuesday.htm">giving up foods during lent</a> Seems the divine comedian has it all planned out. I'm going on pilgrimage during Lent, and from this point on, I need to give up on most of the foods traditionally off the menu for the season of Lent. Especially while on the camino. I want to give my foot the best chance to deal with all that walking without having to deal with the fact that I ate a bacon burger last night. <br />
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I don't know. It just struck me as...well....funny. Seems like the Divine Comedian is trying to get our attention. Lent<u> is</u> a different kind of time. May as well take advantage of the season, and benefit from the practices which are part of the traditions of Lent. They may just be important ways to...oh I don't know...know what it is really like to be part of the goodness, the wholeness, the possibilities, of God's world. One more thing to "take in my stride" so to speak. As we step out on pilgrimage, on this sabbatical.<br />
Buen Camino all. Karen. <br />
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p.s.: One more sleep! yay!</div>
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Karen Stephanson Holmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03097164317137395692noreply@blogger.com2