Last night we had the first night of a two day festival in Villamayor. The towns in the valley take it in turn to host this event. Although next weekend it is followed by the town festival as well. The evening started with lots of Spanish sausages, bacon and sardines all squashed into pieces of pan rustica, a long loaf like a French stick, washed down with local wines. This was followed at 10:30pm by a bull made out of a drum, bike wheels and other metal bits and pieces chasing children down the street with fireworks coming out of its tail. The kids screamed with delight as it chased them up and down the street. I suppose this is all in preparation for the real thing in Pamplona or another major city when they get older. And then, to finish off the evening a punk band with a rude name played strange music until after midnight. Some of the locals who were well lubricated by this time caroused into the night, or should I say, early morning and took one of our clothes line for a walk.
That was day one.
But now again when when you ask, “Why are you doing the Camino?” You are given an answer that knocks you for six. I had learned that the relatively young man across the table was a blacksmith who wasn’t sure if his body could cope with this job for many more years. I told him how I would love to see him teach his skills to young people in this technological age. Then I asked him the dangerous question: why are you doing the Camino? The answer was not one I expected.
Currently it is very warm at night. The one metre thick stone walls take a long time to cool down. In the morning they still contain a lot of heat. Sleeping through the night can be tough with the small open window letting in little air and lots of noise from the local bar and the neighbourhood dog chorus.
Travelling the Camino can be very cheap. The accommodation is inexpensive, restaurants offer cheaper meals and there are no transport costs apart from a little shoe leather. All you need is a ‘credential’ – a camino passport and these benefits are available to the walkers
What are the rituals we engage in that someone else from another culture would consider weird. I remember once at theological college a discussion about body odour occurred. One group of students had complained about the odour of another group. The other group replied that white people smelled “sour”. Even our olfactory function, it seems, has a cultural dimension!
So here we are in Spain with enough time to get a sense of how a small community ticks. If I transferred these people to Hamlyn Heights what would they say to each other in the privacy of their homes about these strange people in Geelong. Where is the bar? Where do they meet without a bar 100 metres from home? And no siesta! The climate is the same so why not? And, they eat so early!
Travels from Ur 