Week 2 From Logroña through the La Rioja Rigion - all the way to Najera

After a wonderful nights sleep, my knees taped up (even though I shaved what I thought to be the right place, I could still feel the tape tucking in the leftovers) I left for today's walk at 6.oo sharp. I have left my raincoat right on top in my backpack just in case the rain will appear. I am dreading what the paths will be like when wet - somehow I fear the wost, as most of them are clay and will increasingly be so as we move through this region - famous for the red clay earth sticking to the boots when wet, with some unknown force.

I realised you haven´t heard from me for some time now. I haven´t been able to find an internet cafe until now when I have arrived in Najera. This is not so much an internet cafe - more a play centre for the youth in the city playing racing games. (Richard would just love this) However it is free of charge so who cares. I better tell you that this whole saga you are about to read about, I just lost completely somewhere in space between Spain and Australia - however used to set-backs who cares, so here we go again.

At this time I have only walked 31km in a week - not much in a Camino one might be tempted to conclude. However I have already found out the hard way, that it is not the kilometers one walks that makes the Camino, but the impressions, the converstaions, the reflections this journey helps one to be able to do. Somehow the Camino clears one's interior and one is able to reach a much deeper and clearer state of mind. So here is my account of Week 2 - second round around.

Staring out from Logroña Sunday morning, was a great feeling. It is hard to describe the feelings the mornings bring, the cool air, the silence and the smell of the still damp earth - being beween here and nowhere - not expected anywhere at any particular time and for that matter place. Something one has to get use to but I can tell you - it doesn´t take that long to take to it in.

Walking amongst vines everywhere growing in this rich red clay soil full of stones. It must be a ground which takes so much hard work to cultivate. The paths which I walk on are most likely work tracks used by the farmers, uneven and rough and also full of stones, making every step hard for both ankles and knees. And before long I am in trouble again, my knees hurt and half the trip I survive counting steps from 1 to 100, knowing that each step brings me a little closer to my next bed. Without my walking sticks to drive me forward I doubt I would have made it. However arriving in the village of Ventosa, 120 people, I was met at the front door of a brand new aubergue by Jytta, an Austrian ín´keeper or auberguerian (sounds a little like a purple vegie, doesn´t it)? and Brian from Manchester, voluntering for a couple of weeks, before continuing his, what seems, never ending pilgrimage. However they both welcomed me with open arms and could see from my general appearance, that here was a fellow who needed a little TLC.

Brian even attended to my shoes, placing a wild flower on them to give them good karma.

That afternoon I met up with a wonderful young man from Slovakia, part of the old Check Republic, called Ivan (not the cruel) He was working in Switzerland at one of the universities and was very interested in discussing a variety of issues, from politics to religion. Sue Cahill would have been very proud of me discussing the Australian Catholic Church and the Passionist Community, as the Catholic Church in this part of the world, barely has passed Vatican II. That´s not quit true, but it is no doubt more traditional in so many ways. However as I said he was a delight to converse with and I almost forgot the state of my knees.

When one stays over in the same albergue, one meets a new bunch of perigrinos every afternoon, arriving at the front door with sore feet or legs, red faces and exhausted looks. However it only takes a shower, a change of cloths and before long they appear almost like real humans, with a snack in one hand and a bottle of red in the other. What can one say?

This second evening I met up with a medico from Boston, August was his name and that´s no joke and his Thai wife, and Charlotte their 10 your old daughter. We had a most pleasant evening together and I was invited to share in their vegetarian dinner, which I must say was delightful.

The next morning I felt pretty miserable being stuck here. That was not what I had imagined the Camino to be like. Going through my cancer treatment I had never stopped believing that this Camino was possible and now I sat stuck here in a small village with a pair of bung knees, unable to continue my journey. That was not what a Camino was supposed to be like! Or was it? Was I sitting here to be forced to face that I no longer was in control - and maybe something called patience was a lesson which I had to learn. I don´t know, but maybe I will find the answer further on.

People I met were all concerned about my knees and tried to do this and that. Brian gave me Reike a couple of times a day (without much help - but it was his thoughtfulness and his willingness to give of himself that counted). However quite unexpectedly one of my CAMINO MOMENTS arrived early the next morning. A young woman from Switzerland asked if she could lay her land on my knees and do an Indian blessing. What can one say but yes and close one's eyes - however once again nothing magical happened. About five minutes later I all of a sudden heard the most wonderful singing from the entry foyer, a woman playing guitar and singing (I found out later) an Indian song in Sanskrit - one of the earliest languages ever recorded. It was a very beautiful moment and everyone still present at the aubergue at this late time (it was 8am) were all very moved. My response - if it hadn´t been for my knees I would never had experienced this wonderful moment as I would had been gone at my usual 6am. A CAMINO MOMENT out of the blue and one which will stay with me for ever.

The French and German connection came the next evening as I caught up with a group of primary teachers - from Paris, from Cologne and from Hamburg. If ever anyone tells me that French people don´t at least try to speak English, they are wrong. We had the funniest evening together and ended up sharing a perigrino meal together. I had my first taste of paella ( I didn´t appreciate the seafood much) a dish of chicken wings and some peaches in some lovely wine. What more can one ask for. (all for $ 15)

The next and my final day in this small community, Jytta had organised a visit to the doctor - the doctors only visit in the week. While waiting for our turn, listening to the many Spanish people waiting for their turn, she told me the political reality of this small community. In Australia we talk about drawing a line in the sand - in this community we might talk about a breadstick in the sand. You see, one can buy bread from either one of the elders in the village or buy your bread from the bread van, passing through the village once a day. Depending where you buy your bread, determines whether you are in or out in this small community of just 120 people. Quite amazing!!

Decided it was time to try out my legs or rather knees again, both Jytta and Brian saw me off and wished me well. The walk to Najera was the shortest possible for the day and was approx. 11 km. It is hard to describe the feeling of once again be in the open. Walking through fields and fields of vine as far as one can see is quite a beautiful sight. The paths the Camino followed at this point were mostly rough farm tracks, eroded by the wind and the rain and full of loose stones, challenging the foothold all of the time. And yes it didn´t take long before the knees started to ache again - despite me taking all the care in the world to put my foot to the ground as gracious and light as a ballet dancer (just figurative language of course). My walking sticks propelled my legs forward one step at the time, my brain desperately trying to control them, without much success I might add. To illustrate the point, approx 5 kilometers before Najera, the Camino crosses the main highway and the traffic is fast without much of a chance to find a clearing between cars, trucks and buses. I knew I was in trouble and stood there absolutely petrified that I wasn´t going to make it. You see my brain would send a message to my legs to start moving, but that didn´t mean a thing. I would take at least 3 to 4 tries to get them to move and at that, they would move very gingerly and unsteady. However you can see I made it, but is was a real frightening experience, to be that much out of control (here I go again with being in control).

Arriving in Najera I looked straight away for the private arbergue as I knew I would need to stay for a few days - yet again. I found the owner of the arbergue in the bar Bodegon La Juderia and he agreed to accommodate me for that period. The arbergue as very simple indeed, nothing more than a room with 10 bunk beds, a toilet and a shower and that´s all folks. However it did have a bed, which for me that was the most important feature.

Najera is another historical city, which one seems to find around every corner in this part of the world. In its former glory is was the capital of the Kingdom of Navarre during the 11th and 12th centuries. Undoubtedly the most important building in the city is the Monasterio Santa de la Real, dating back to approx. year 1000. There is a reason for the monastery being here and the legend goes as follows:

In the year 1044 Don Garcia went out hunting in these lands and saw a partridge. He sent his falcon in pursuit after it and the two birds entered a cave. The king followed them in and deep inside the cave he saw the image of the Virgin Mary. The king later decided to build a monastery in honour of the virgin (one can still see the cave inside the church). Many royals are buried here as are many noble families from the area. As with these churches, the art work is stunning, with altars glittering of gold and with the most complex and beautiful carvings. I went to mass here and although the whole service was in Spanish, it was very moving and easy to follow - maybe apart from the homily.

I have to tell you a little story about the tower of the monastery. On top one can see 12 storks - some adults and some young ones. Storks are very special birds for me, as in Denmark these birds are very rare and as children we read story books written about them as well as learned songs. I guess the fascination was that these birds would fly all the way the Africa and return year after year to the same nest and people actually waited for them to arrive year after year - and it was always front page news when it happened. However general urban development destroyed much of the wet land in Denmark and I believe there are only two pairs still nesting in that country. So here I walked around and all of a sudden hear the unmistakably sound the stork makes when feeding its young. Looking up I saw these majestic birds high above me - it was quite wonderful and brought back a lot of happy memories.

Despite my limited movement, my days in Najara were real happy. I started in the morning visiting a special perigrino bistro near the river, where I would order my coffee (and they do know how to make a good cup of coffee in Spain) and a baccodillo with cheese and ham and then enjoy the early morning sun and watch people go about their business. Later in the morning I would find a bench on Plaza Españia and once again just watch life go by - the children playing - the old people meeting and having a cigar - just wonderful, when you have time just to sit an enjoy it.

The second day there I was having a cold beer at lunch time, when I spotted a young couple organising their backpacks and having their lunch. I walked over and introduced myself and that was the start of a wonderful afternoon. You couldn´t have meet a nicer and more interesting couple. Ben came was Berlin and Maurice from the south of France and they were both actors, dancers as well as singers - working for a theatre company in Berlin. I told them about Laraine and her love for dancing and singing and everything crazy and how she would have loved to be part of our conversation.

I am not sure why conversations are such an important part of the Camino and why people seem so unafraid to open up and talk about their life stories- sometimes very personal and emotional painful stories. I wonder if we all, as part of the Camino, have been forced to look deeper within our self and our life´s stories and loose our normal inhibition to share these deep personal stories with people we live and work with in our everyday life. Maybe having these chance meetings, lasting only for a few hours, provides somehow the right framework for these conversations to take place. I don´t know - but the wonderful things are that they happen and they are so very special every time.