Day 21 Camino de Santiago July 26, Sagahun

Very nice walk today of up and down small hills.  A bit overcast at first so the sun didn't start to scorch until about 12:00.  Lots of sunflowers, hay and little towns.  The little towns make it easy to Compound Effect.  "Okay, 3k to Villa Whatthehecka", and then 2.5 K to Palookavilla, etc.

This poor guy, Jacques de Molay, was the last of the Templars, and boy did he pay a price.  He got betwixt the Pope and the King of France who had him burned slowly on an isle in the Seine River.  What kind of a sick pervert does that??  

 





Spain is the leader in the world in using solar energy.  I bet they don't buy their panels from China.  Please stop buying things made in China.  Make our own, even at a loss, it will do the USA better in the long run.
 

 This is a cold storage unit just outside of the town Moratinos.  It's used as a wine cellar and a place to store vegetables.  We were guessing it was a burial tomb, houses, but never thought about it being a storage cellar.  

  This is the original Blue Adobe, okay, not really.  But it is adobe and it does have blue windows and doors.
  They must have gotten tired of the HOA's color selection of beige, beige or beige...
or
their son from U of North Carolina came home and asked if he could do a little touch-up to the paint job.
or...
Mom's doing acid again!

 






 Somewhere, there is an agent for OSHA who is looking at this picture and who has just fainted.  I can't imagine these bells not falling from the rafters, especially considering the amount of vibrations that are caused by the ringing of the bells.
 

 This is a pretty little Ermita, which is due for 297,000 E for refurbishing.  I wonder how they decide which churches get the money.

Pope:  you getta money, you getta some money.... NO!  you no getta no money!

 

This is the style of the buildings here in Sahagun.  Kinda of a knock off of Tudor, but with adobe.  Not very attractive, but I guess it's durable.

I don't know the name of this church and ain't ashamed to admit it.  I know that it has about seven names. Something like San Lorenzo de blah blah blah blah.  Whatever.  It is about 900 years old and everyone who built it is dead.  The govt. is giving 43K E to rehab it.   So really, what else do you need to know!

This is another old church with 12 names and up on a hill.  I learned the name and by the time I got to the bottom, I was like, "San Sebastian de Mer con Chihuahuas"... no that's not right..."San Amigo de cucaraches"....no... okay here it is.   "San Big Ol' Church #2".  Got it!!

This is the altar that was inside the San Big Ol' Church #2.  While there it dawned on me why not only the Catholic Church, but Spain and Europe are giving money to rehab so many other churches... they are spending money to try and jump start the economy.  These are "shovel ready" projects.   I was with a German and I said, "Wow!  They did a great job on this church!" and he replied, "Yah.... wit our German money!!"   Don't you just love that Euro!!








Funny story about last night at an insanely crowded Auberge - the bunk beds were so close that you had to turn sideways to get into the bunk.  The curfew was 10:00 - that means lights out and no noise.  Only, several people were not ready for bed.  Some went to a bar and some sat on the front steps, and myself and Tina,(the girl who rescued Kevin) sat on the back porch.  We were whispering and trying not to waken the people inside who were going to get up at 4:30 (how whacked it that??!!) So we're whispering and the owner comes home from the bar and starts playing with his dog who is barking nonstop, and bouncing a rubber ball off the roof so his dog can catch it.  The roof is the one with the people trying to sleep.   Then two of his friends came over and they were talking at the top of their lungs while we shook our heads in disbelief and continued whispering.  After about 30 minutes, I said, "Why are we still whispering?"  and then we couldn't stop laughing.  It was like we had been baling water from a ship that was all but under water.   Okay...I guess you had to be there!
    I gotta run now.  Need to go to the pharmacy to buy some band-aides and some Q-tips.  Feet take a banging but keep on ticking.  God bless ibuprofen!!

Never let a fool kiss you and never let a kiss fool you - Mardy Grothe

Casablanca, Morocco, June 2012

Okay, first, Casablanca IS a part of Morocco.  It seems that a shoestring traveller is talking about Morocco and the name Casablanca comes up, they feel the need to qualify it by saying, "You know...Casablanca isn't part of Morocco!"   Like it's on an island that's floating around in the Atlantic!
  It IS part of Morocco.  It happens to have 3,000,000 people who seem to think they are in Morocco, especially since they pay taxes TO Morocco.     Okay... enough of that.

 






There are really only two reasons to visit Casablanca if you are a tourist... one is the incredible mosque,  and the second is Rick's Cafe, the mythical bar that Humphrey Bogart ran in the movie, Casablanca... which was in Morocco then, too!

    The cafe is actually fairly small, much smaller than the set it was filmed on, which was in Tangiers, yes, that's in Morocco and in Hollywood, no that is not in Morocco.  The cafe is a beautiful creamy white color and reeks of nostalgia.

 




The second floor is even smaller and overlooks the restaurant below.  It has a bar, "The Blue Parrot" and the continuously show the movie, "Casablanca" 24 hours a day.  I watched it with a couple from California and enjoyed it even more than the 496 times I had seen before.

 It only seemed natural to have a Casablanca beer in Casablanca at Rick's Cafe.  Mom would have shot me if I did not go to the Cafe.


In an American Mexican restaurant, you always get a bowl of chips.  In Morocco, you always get olives.  Never, never, never, ask what happens to the olives that you don't eat.  Never!

The night I was there, Sam wasn't.  Actually, Sam never is.  But they usually have a piano player, though on Sunday nights they have a jazz combo.

    The second reason for going to Casablanca is to see the Hassan II Mosque, which is the  7th largest mosque in the world.  I didn't know what to expect.  I had been to many other mosque, but I think they rank about 450th in world size!  This one is gargantuan.

    What is strange is that in Morocco, non Muslims cannot go into the mosque, but they can in the Hassan II Mosque.  For 120 D (about $14) that is.  Well worth every penny.

 






 It's built overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and in fact, some of it is built over the ocean.  Kinda daring, don't you think?!!?

 










The easiest thing to like about the Mosque is that it is very bright and airy inside.  No dark chambers or overly massive columns.   It is made of marble and ornately decorated cedar wood.  It is easy on the eyes.  And did I mention the skylight??

The Mosque took over 6 years to build and had over 6,000 artisans working on it.  The pigeons sure love it!!   It was finished in 1993 so it's only about 20 years old so it will be interesting to see how it will weather time.  I wonder if the government helped build it??

Do not visit on Friday, as there are no tours....just in case you were thinking of flying to Morocco this weekend.  Our tour guide was excellent.  He could speak five languages like his home language.

There are heated floors, which is a great idea since the floors are marble and partially built out over the Atlantic.  Some of the doors are electric as is the roof.  

This is the one of about 14 baptismal fonts that are in the bottom of the Mosque.  This is where the people are required to wash their feet before going to the main Mosque to pray.

Women are required to dress conservative as are the men.  No shorts, and ladies mud cover their shoulders.  No one wears shoes in the building.  Remember, people sit and kneel on the floors  to pray.

I apologize for how poorly this is written.. I'm sitting in a bar because they have Wifi and there are three guys behind be badmouthing the States.  I may end up in jail tonight.  They keep talking about how uncivilized the States is... If I kick their sorry butts... would that make their case???...maybe...but it might be worth it.

A weed is but a flower whose virtues have yet to be discovered.

Day 20 Camino de Santiago July 25 Calzadilla

Day 20 Calzadilla

Nice town Carrion!  Much bigger than I anticipated.  Most towns have a main street and either you live on it...or you live in a different town.  This one had many streets, even three supermarkets...The term supermarket is a a misnomer, but it does have all the essentials.  Candy bars, ice cream...

     Unfortunately, as I was walking out of town...they had a sign saying how far it is to Santiago. 401K.   It’s okay.  I keep Compound Effecting it and I realize that it’s a good lesson in patience. 

 This is a sign on one of the many churches in Carrion.  It s saying that they are spending over 200,000 Euros on refurbishing the church.  There was another on the church in the middle of town that had one on it for over 400,000E.  Many churches have the sign.  Reminds me of the Cultural Revolution in China and how Mao Tse Tung was intent on destroying all of the temples.  His right hand man, Chou en Lai, had enough foresight to see that they were works of art and convinced Mao to not destroy them.  Good move... now they bring in tons of tourist money.  

   

This picture probably means dooley squat to you but to me, it’s the end of an era... the era of me rolling my cart.  I can roll my cart on pavement, as in a road, however, when it becomes a trail, as in dirt or rocks,  as it does by the yellow arrow behind the stop sign, I have to strap it on.  Oh well...I just think of it as my cross and how much stronger it is making me... Remind me of that when I’m in the hospital for back surgery and knee replacements!!

   Not that I’m hung up on Clint Eastwood’s spaghetti westerns... but remember the scene when he and Tuco are being approached by soldiers on horse and they can’t tell if they are Rebs are Yanks?? (sure ya do!!)  Then as they see they are getting closer, they see that the soldiers are wearing gray, so they put on their Reb hats.  When the soldiers stop, they dust off their uniforms and viola, they’re Yanks.  Such is the case with my shoes.  I look down at them at the end of the day and they are caked in dust.  I can’t tell if they were black or brown.    This was at a rest stop I took on today’s long haul.  It’s the longest haul without a town in between - 17 k.  

  The stretch between Burgos and Leon is the stretch that is described as “either your worst or your best” part of the Camino.  It’s hot, dry, dusty, and pretty much the same scenery.  The positives are that it’s starkly beautiful, the solitude is rare in life, and it builds a better body and mind.  Which doesn’t explain why I was making a video with my iPhone and making horse sounds.  It also helps to explain why I took a picture of only one shoe???

  

 I have no idea what these black and white signs are all about, but I liked this one.  Just after I had sat too long and stiffened up, I saw something scribbled on the sign and hobbled over to read what it said.  It said....”You are here!”  Now that is so profound!!

  This is pretty much the view for the entire 17K.  I enjoyed it.  I enjoy talking, but on this stretch it’s been very good to just walk.  I must say that my friend the pink rabbit is not very good about being quiet!  I must speak to him tomorrow... just as soon I’m through talking to Wilson.

  Okay another movie scene for you.  Dances With Wolves... I was walking on the road through tall grass that can best be described as the prairie in the USA.  So my mind wanders and I start to see what I am sure is  8 Pawnee warriors hiding behind a single blade of grass.  

     What are they growing here...Rocks??  If so, looks like Mable is getting that new red Sunday-go-to-meeting dress!!

At the end of the 17K I was close to dehydrated, though I had drank quite a bit of water.  I stopped in Calzadilla to have a drink, rest, and move on 6K to the next town.  I wanted to catch up to Kevin, who leaves at 5:30 (I left at 9:00), and the rest of the group that I've been having dinner with.  However...I decided to stay and meet new folks.  

The reason I left at 9:00 this morning is because I found a bakery!!!  I bought some things, went to a bar, got a coffee and yapped with Natalie, a lady from London.  Her husband is a high school teacher in an all girls school in inner city London.   Can you say, "Here's your free pass to hell?!"

Speaking of hell... will someone please tell this guy the rules of wearing a speedo in public...namely, if you don't have a gold medal around your neck, leave the lumpsuit in the closet!  This guy was at the aubergue which had a small but clean and ice cold pool.  I was able to soak from the knees down.  What a welcome retreat!

He who will not economize will have to agonize.  

Confucius

Day 19 Camino de Santiago July 24 Carrion

Carrion  July 24    Day 19

 I spent the last night in the old but refurbished train station of Fromista,  with two Americans... from Arizona.  The male had contracted Guardia, which is a intestinal infection.  Not pretty.  He thinks he got it from petting a dog.  His girl friend works with a vet and said that he will be okay.  Still, kinda scary.   

    This is the sign of the town, “Fromistra” on the train depot.

      Boss - uh... Fernando, I want to compliment you on hanging not only the sign, but also the light.  However, there is one question I have... Why in the world did you hang the light on top of the sign??

   

Now here is a sight for sore eyes!  There is no greater love on this Earth.  Dogs are truly God’s greatest creation.  Total love!  I can honestly say that Bucky is the one creature that gave me more love than I gave.  He is amazing.  

     The church in the town of Fromista is not huge but it is so pretty.  Any brick mason would be proud of it.  I like these small churches which they call “Ermitas”.  It usually costs a Euro or two and they record where you are from.  The man running this Ermita had all of 8 customers for the entire day, and yet was using a calculator to figure out the daily take.  Whoa!!

  The trail today, (wait...did I forget a segway there???) was through alfalfa fields and for the most part hot as the dickens.  I don’t know how hot Dickens was, but he must have been a real stud because it was a “bloody” hot.  If I didn't have to cross a ravine to get in the spray, I would have.  As it turned out, I didn't have to because the spray came across the road!  Just like rain!!!

     The trail split and pelegrinos could walk to the left along the road, or they could walk to the right along a river and through countryside.  Same distance so I took the river walk.   A real no brainer!     I reached a teeny, tiny, no account village, which I don’t think they even bothered to name, and there was a man cracking almonds in the "town square".  As I neared him, he gathered his nuts... wait...he gathered THE nuts, and gave them to me. Delicioso!  Then he had me crack them.  Must be some Peregrino ritual.  I like rituals that you can eat!!  

     

   

   Then he took my credencia, which is a type of passport that all hotels/auberges stamp when you stay in them, and he wrote a message in it.  I hope God can read Spanish better than me, but I think is says, Have a good walk and may God protect you!  

    

He saw that I had a cane that was too short for me and that my backpack is heavy and he, Pepe, said, “Momentito!” and hobbled to his car and gave me his cane that had the word, “Pepe” scrawled on it.  When I say that his name was Pepe, I assume his name was Pepe, or I guess it could be that he stole if from some Pelegrino named, Pepe....  but that seems so anti-Camino.    People like Pepe, truly make the Camino special.  It's odd, because at first, I want to just say, "No thanks!" as he's walking toward me with a hammer and saying, "come here", but because soooooo many people have been so giving along the way, I have finally started to trust them.    However, just to be safe, I always have one hand on my can of mace.... 

    The trail rejoined the other trail and followed the road for the next 6 or 7 kilometers.  Just before the rejoining, we went through fields that were completely taken over by either artichoke or thistles.  I don’t know the artichoke plant very well but it seemed strange to have a whole field of thistles???

   In another town that I stopped for lunch I saw a statue, which turned out to be of the old mayor.  Apparently he was such a good guy to the pilgrims that they made a statue of him in front of his bar.  Or... call me skeptical... but this is really the mayor after being Twilight Zoned.  

  

In one of the churches in Carrion, the organ had some strange painting on it.  Blow up the picture, and if you can, figure out what this is all about, I’ll be amazed.  It's in the bottom right hand corner.  Apparently, some refurbisher went rogue!!

Happiness is like a butterfly.
The more you chase it, the more it eludes you.
But if you turn your attention to other things,
It comes and sits softly on your shoulder.
 - Henry David Thoreau

Essaouari, Morocco June 2012

Essaouira   ess o we’ ra

So where does one go when they’ve had four days of desert caked on their body?  Why to the ocean of course!  The small town of Essaouira was calling and only 3 hours away by bus from Marrakech. Actually, there were two things calling me, the idea of visiting a fishing village and the Gnaoua Music festival.

     Warning:  Do not equate a Moroccan fishing village with any of the following:  quaint....New England.... clean...  It is picturesque, however.  I can’t imagine sitting in one of these boats if they were dry docked, muchless in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.  

   








 They must float, they’ve been building them for 1,000 years!  Kind of cool to actually see them being built.  I watched a man with a hand plainer working on the hull of the boat.  Didn’t seem to be in a rush at all.  Didn’t want me to take his picture either!

  It was fun to walk around the harbor and take pictures of the boats, nets and salty sea dogs.  I got some mean looks so I decided to take pictures of boats, nets and ixschnay the pictures of the salty sea dogs.  

    I am not crazy about going in to small towns when they have a festival that swells the population by 15x and that is what was happening when I decided to go to Essouria during the Gnaoua Festival.  No problem!  I booked reservation, right?!!!   Right.  But....

     The best laid plans are laid to rest.  I got to Essaouira and via a difficult walk through very crowded streets, found my way to the Riad...Only... they did not have my reservation.  I showed the lady my email from HER that said, we happily anticipate your arrival.  She was very sad that she had no more rooms so she made a phone call to another hotel and boom!  i had a room.  Turned out for the best - as it was right on the main street.  The room was a bit like a prison cell - no windows.  But it was on the main street, which meant that even a direction impaired person like me could find it at night.  The first Riad was so difficult to find that I would have had to hire a guide to take me there.  

     The lady at the new hotel was equally friendly and told me of three great restaurants to try.  The streets were packed with people and many times it was difficult to walk without literally being pressed on by people on four sides.   A pickpocket’s nirvana!  My favorite restaurant had a chicken pastissere that was to die for.  While eating it, I saw one of the Brits and tried to yell at him, but he was being swept away in the crowd like a stick on the Mississippi River.  

    

The streets from my hotel terrace, where I had breakfast looked calm from four stories high, but when on them, especially anytime after 10:00 AM, were a zoo.  It was like we were in an auto and it was rush hour traffic.  

This was taken at about 7:00 AM.  It was the only time of day when you could see street.  Other times it was a subway platform in Tokyo.  Wall to wall people!

    

Essaouira was filled with “artists” from all over the world, such as these hair briders.  People couldn’t wait to have their hair braided.  I was able to find the Berber scarf i had been looking for.  I believe I paid all of $3.50 for it!

  

    The streets were a mad house, especially in late evening.  Yet, people would unfurl a blanket, throw some melons or peaches on it and start selling them.  In the middle of the street!!!  I wanted to scream at the Mayor and say, “Really??  Does this make sense to you to block the street?”  

  

 To get any sense of calm, a person would have to go off the main street to a side alley and barring a mugging, could find solace.  

    At night the Ganou concerts were interesting and some of the music was pleasing to the ears.  They had an instrument, think bass guitar but made from animal skins.  It had the richest tone of any instrument that I’ve heard since the super big pan flutes of South America.  I would be listening to a song by seven or eight musicians and it was nice, but going nowhere when all of a sudden one of them would start playing the animal skinned bass and it was like , “Whoa!,,, that is awesome!”  The man in black (no, not Johnny Cash), next to the piano is holding the instrument.

I don’t even know how to describe Ganoui music.  Think African/folk/rock n roll.  Lots of percussion, very soulfull.  Loud, but it made me feel like I was in Africa. 

Essaouari is a bit of a hippie hangout, or use to be.  Jimi Hendrix visited there for about a week and now there are all kinds of local legends, none of which are true.  But that doesn't mean that the local merchants don't use it to sell.  You'd think Hendrix was going to walk around the corner at anytime.

To escape the madness, I went to the beach, only to run into a festival of local tribes doing horse exhibitions.  They were riding at full speed AT the audience and firing their rifles...they do know about blanks, right??

 




To see some real shooting, though they never fired, I walked to the fort overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.  The water was brown, probably that time of year...or flushing time, I don't know.  The water looked anything but inviting.  Even on a clear day with clear water, the wind is blowing constantly and hard.  Not my idea of beach fun, picking sand out of my teeth, clothes, and hair...okay, teeth and clothes.
 

Seriously, does this look like a beach you'd want to swim in???  No thanks.  Amazing the amount of people I met on the bus and in town who said that they were in Essaouari to enjoy a beach holiday.  Maybe... if you're really into wind surfing or kite flying.  The logic behind putting a fort in Essaouari is really simple:  you don't have to aim at the boat, just aim so that if they don't sail into the rocks, they'll sail into the cannonballs, thus, they're kill ratio is enhanced by the ships sailing into the rocks to avoid sailing into the cannonballs.

    Time to eat.  Back to the streets to find as clean a place to eat as possible, without paying an arm and a leg.  There's always the market, where you can buy a fish who has been sitting out for Gosh knows how long and then they'll grill it for you, or how about a fresh chicken.  The chickens show a lack of history... if they had paid attention to the chickens who are taken out, they would stop eating and stay skinny.  For me, it was painful to watch the poor little chickens get their heads whacked off.  Some life, huh?

 





 Okay... it didn't stop me from ordering chicken... (third one from the left...not the heavyset one!)  And while I waited, street performers performed.  The first was a a group of kids from Italy.  They were earning money as they went through Europe and North Africa.  Not very talented so I gave them a couple of Euros to pay their medical bills for when they fell... and they will fall.


















These three guys were locals and were entertaining, though not the best I've seen.  Still they were worth a Euro for playing local music and adding to the atmosphere.  I was amazed at how few people gave either group money.  Shame.  I like people who are willing to work for a living and even hustle.

The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it – Henry David Thoreau.

Now THAT is a good saying... Wish I had thought of it!

As for you Mr. seabird... be thankful you don't cluck!

Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in getting up every time we do.

            Confucius

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