Day 21 or Semana Santa 2008

Notes on Day 21, March 16, Terradillos de Templarios to Sahagun

Pablo and I continued the BS straight out of the albergue. Pablo started walking the Camino three years ago. No, it has not taken him that long to get halfway. Like many Spaniards, he does a week a year around spring break and will take five or so years to complete it. So Pablo had driven his car to Carrion yesterday and picked up where he left off last year when I met him. He kept tempting me with his car, ¨I khave a car, we can go to Santiago in three hours, ee jou want!¨ Punk.



¨Look! There is the albergue!¨ He shouted and pointed to the most decrepit old building, it´s half timbered and tiled roof caved in on itself. This resulted in peels of laughter. ¨No!¨ I said, ¨there is the albergue,¨ and pointed to a rusted tin can of a horse trailer abandoned on the roadside. ¨It holds 50 peregrinos.¨ More roars. Apparently there is an entire sense of humor that belongs only to the camino.

Pablo told me he had to spend a year in compulsory military service. He stood in a guard tower in the middle of bucolic Spanish countryside, like where we were walking, with a military rifle. ¨I am thinking, ´what am I doing here? Look out! There is a rabbit!´¨ He mimed aiming a rifle at the imaginary fuzzball.

It was a damn good time walking with Pablo. And he enhanced by depravity by introducing me to Oroju, a liqueur made from distilled grape skins. Tasty to be sure, but no pacharan.

But when we reached Sahagun, I decided I simply had to stop for the day. Pablo seemed genuinely sad. ¨In my country, it is tradition to geev a kiss on each cheek.¨ He said this so timidly and sweetly and followed with, ¨eef jou want, of course!¨ ¨Of course I want, Pablo! It is Spanish tradition!¨ And he paid for my tortilla and beer in the little bar we had stopped at (¨you are in my country. I pay!¨) and kissed me on each cheek and left the bar.

In the afternoon, after my shower I had to fight the urge to indulge in a siesta (I am beginning to believe this is an utterly civilized cultural tradition, mind you), but it was Domingo (Sunday) and I had to get to the pharmacia for more blister bandaids before it closed. I am glad I forced my sleepy, saggy self out the door, because in front of the albergue were about 100 people gathered, all carrying branches. And it dawned on me, today was Palm Sunday. Sure enough in the center of the throng was a statue of Jesus astride a mule anchored high on a wooden barge.



And so it was that I happened on and got completely enchanted by this somber procession of Christ on the mule through the winding streets of medieval Sahagun to the Church of San Lorenzo.



A band beat a steady thrum, thrum...thrum, thrum on drums. The barge carrying the statue and adorned with purple and peach gladiolas, was borne on the shoulders of about twenty young people, their black robes accented by boutineers of palm fronds. They swayed in unison with each step, rocking the barge from side to side as they processed to the square in front of the church.



The church of San Lorezno was built in the 1200´s, but in a different style than I have seen thus far. It is called Mudejar and is made with thousands of sun kissed thin bricks culminating in an impressive tiered bell tower.



I followed the swelling procession into the church square. I was moved, feeling the beat of the drums in my throat. The procession halted, the crescendo of drums spurring the swaying of the barge bearers. And then the crowd erupted in applause and the barge was carried into the church.



What a happy accident that I needed bandaids right then.



Later this evening I sat in the bar across from the albergue and planned my next week of the trip. Despite being more than halfway to Santiago, I am still daunted by what is ahead of me. There are two mountain ranges yet to get my butt over, one with the highest summit and another with the steepest ascent of the trip. I still seem to doubt if I can do this.

And Pablo told me about the processions during holy week in Leon and that I should try to catch at least one. Indeed I was wondering what all the posters in shop windows featuring hooded figures and advertising Semana Santa 2008 were all about. Now I realize that Semana Santa is Holy Week. Spanish people advertise their Holy Week festivities like Americans advertise movies and cell phone plans.

So I looked at the map and figured I can be in Leon by Holy Thursday and Astorga by Easter Sunday if my feet hold out and I don´t contract a mysterious case of anthrax that lays me up this week. But this means I am most definitely going to have to extend my trip, maybe by as much as a week.

When my guidebook said it is possible to do the Camino in 33 days (I originally gave myself 36), the author didn´t say that this is if you a) are in bitch-ass good shape, b) are a masochist, or c) you have something really bangin´ motivating you to go that fast, like Gerard Butler waiting to make love to you when you arrive in Santiago. Since I am, nor have, none of these things (maybe I am a masochist for undertaking this to begin with), I need more time.