MATTRAISSE GIRL

As Herman and I set off from Almadena, a coffee, juice and a few pieces of toast in our bellies, we quickly found a good pace for the walk. Whilst I totally recomend spending at least some time each day walking the Camino alone, I have realised this is not what I am ultimately made for. Complete solitude is of no great value to me as far as I can tell. I love people. You will meet some pilgrims, who clearly don`t want to walk or get involved with anyone, and whilst it seems a little odd to me as an observer, I totally respect their wishes. Fortunately the majority of us want, even need the company of others. Herman, like myself is a very sociable person who very much enjoys sharing his tales with others. Tales of the Camino and anecdotes from life in general. So when he began a story about  a new mattress his wife had bought, I listened with keen interest. Well I nearly wet myself laughing !!!!
There seems to be a word in his language that sounds similar to the word for a mattress, which is why he is in trouble when he gets home.
Still, all stereotypes aside, at least his grandfather didn`t bomb our chippy !!!

It turns out that his granfather was Russian, so the soviet connection meaning that he wasn`t responsible. He went on to tell me an all too familiar war story about his aunt. She had apparently been shot and killed by the French army whilst trying to take some potatoes from a German train that had been abandoned. I say all too familiar, because I am sure we all know at least one story about someone killed over a turf war. This was one of my true hopes from the Camino, that people of all nations, could experience and find a way to live with one another. I, for example, had been invited by the Kings of Leon to share with them a lovely yet inexpensive meal, whilst walking the Camino Frances. People who`s backgrounds, could have ment a continued hatred and divide, were pulling together. Being as one brotherhood, sharing love, not seeking a divisive continuance of hatred. I had met many Japonese pilgrims who were happy to walk with people from the United States and other nations despite the events of imeanse injustice some 60 years ago, meted out against their people by the Americans. It was great to see that people of all nations were infact seeking ways to live together peacefully. I`ll make a note to mention it to the Pope, if I see him in Santiago. I mean, he should be able to pull a few strings in the upper eschalons of society.
There were still a lot of pigs to be seen, almost free range. Meaning that they were able to roam freely in huge reserves, where us pilgrims had to cross cattlegrids. There were many pigletts and lambs on this farm we crossed, an occaisional dog keeping an eye on us too.
We passed a memorial to a Senor Salvador Salvador, who it seemed had spent a great effort to keep this part of the Camino marked with arrows and way markers, for us pilgrims who travelled without any guide books. Well done Senor, I say. Never enough arrows...
As we entered the village of El Real de la Jara, the Albergue was the first building on our left. I supposed it was here, so that our snoring did´`t keep the village awake all night. But with a field of goats and several cockerals opposite, we pilgrims were drowned out well and truley. The French couple dutifully directed us to the town hall building where we had to find the tourist office. It was they that gave the stamp and keys to the rooms in the Albergue. A small twist on the regularly occuring theme of  self service accomodation. I had been looking out for the nearst petrol station.....
Fortunately we had been able to leave our bags in the entrance hall, as other pilgrims were already there. If you were the first you would have had to carry your pack all the way to the town centre and back again, a distance of some 2 km`s. The Albergue was very characterful. It seemed to have been a storage facility, a bodega perhaps, with curved ceilings and very low adjoining doorways. Four beds per room three rooms only. The headroom was difficult passing doorways, and they seemed to put the light switches inside the darkened rooms, rather than on the approach to them. Ouch !!!!!
If you have ever walked long distances, especially in the hot sun, you will know that a shower is the highlight of your arrival. Boy did I jump ! The water was so powerful and, uh oh !!! What water ???? Standing naked, I was laughing at my good fortune, a few drips landing on my cheeks. Or were they tears ??
The local council it seemed, were laying new water pipes in this street. Jose and Paco had dug their power chisel through the mains pipe, some time during our arrival. (#*@+s) After Siesta I hoped upon Fransisco to get it fixed. ( God bless that man, he did finally get it back on ) When I did finally get my shower, the water was so hot it took my skin off !!! That`ll teach me for complaining. Us pilgrims seem to spend half the day, looking at the treasures of the Universe for free, and the other half moaning. Too hot, too cold, too hard, too soft. Not enough bars open, too many kilometres between rest stops, not enough arrows. Tut tut, the life of a pilgrim was tough ! ( Some pilgrims, I observed, spent more like 95 % of their day moaning. Why did they bother coming ?)
Fed, watered, showered, Herman and I shared a beer and some snacks in the late evening, just before bed. This was to be the last supper. I have my own rhythm, and a following of you who need to know what I am up to, so would be staying over another day here.

FORESTS OF PORK

We had been invited to spend a while in the home of Greta, a German lady who was married to a Spaniard and resident of this little village. She had prepared us a breakfast of such glorious delights, and also offered to escort us, in her car, to a point further along the Camino, where the Tarmac finished and the track set off into the Oak forest. The problem was, that Herman was not too keen to walk the 16km`s along the tarmac hyway. When we saw the road, I could hardly blame him. It was like a rollercoaster, the whole way. I was also only planning to walk about 20km`s myself which would have left me somewhere in the middle of the forest with no accomodation. After Arcos I was not intending to overdo the milage, so this option seemed to fit my idea of sound thinking. With about 15km`s to walk I felt happy that I would be avoiding more pain and suffering, than was needed, on the way to Almaden de la Plata. Though I hate missing parts of the Camino, there are days when sense has to overcome the desire not to cheat. It made perfect sense and besides, I always walk throughout the towns and villages during the afternoons, which adds a lot of extra km`s over a few weeks.
Penance served, we surely enjoyed the new and challenging terrains. Lots more hills and gates to negotiate. We soon found ourselves passing the ranger station for the forestry commission. A while later we got our first sight of pork, there were pigs everywhere. Iberican black pigs to be precise. A delicacy of the area, and farmed in such large herds, we seemed to be tripping over them with almost every step.
A few more kilometres into the forest and we passed a grand house. Set in the forest with lush greenery and trees of many varieties, the Hacienda was a veritable oasis. I began hoping that this was our Albergue. No such luck. A huge pig was guarding the gate, so that no-one could enter. As we continued onwards it seemed as though we had gained some pilgrims, the pigs were following us along the route.
After a couple of hours we eventually mounted the peak of the high sierras, with awesome views of the way we had come, and a sweet and precious panorama of the town below us, just down the hill. Herman and I took some time to enjoy the respite from climbing, with eagles above us and the sun setting in the distance, bringing evening with it. On the way down the hill we joked about putting a loo roll holder on a tree, with a sign saying, "two sheets per pilgrim, 10 cents" and an arrow pointing into the bushes.
As we came to an iron cross, mounted upon a small hillock, I noticed that it was surrounded by a fenced area, filled with livestock with curly horns.
"Hey look, they are the holy goats !"  I joked.
As you can tell, walking long distances in the sun, can have odd effects on your behaviour and humour.
We soon reached the village and found the Albergue to be set in the northwest edge of the village. A note pinned to the door, informed us that we would have to find a woman in a neighbouring street who kept the keys to the accomodation. Again, the place was lovely, and hot showers revived us, though as we left to eat still only four pilgrims had arrived. We ate at Casa de Conchi which was really pleasant, and had our first taste of the local pork dishes. When we finally arrived back at the Albergue, we were surprised to find the place almost full of cyclists, camped out everywhere.
The evenings were cooler now, since only a few days ago when I had been in the south of Spain, but my tiredness soon kicked in, and I was away with the fairies. Not even a dozen or so Spanish cyclists could keep my eyes open. Sweet dreams of Andalucia and black pig pilgrims....

UPDATE

Peaceful Warrior x

Road to Castill Blanco de los Arroyos.

As per normal, tired and unincouraged by the late arrival of the day, I arose at about 8am to find that the bar had been open for some time, serving breakfast to the nation. A coffee and orange juice went down well, and Herman was himself just rousing. It seemed a good timing, that left us free to walk together the day ahead. Only 17km`s to cover, so we should be able to do it in about three and a half hours. The day was welcomely overcast, and we set off together glad that we would not have to walk in temperatures back in the 30`s. The way we found easily, well marked, in keeping with Camino tradition. And we soon were off the tarmac roads, finding our way through wondefully lush olive groves.
Herman, due to a back injury and possibly his age, was suffering from a condition, that his doctor had told him meant he shouldn`t carry a heavy backpack. To this end he had designed and built a trolley that carried his pack and other items, via a harness, worn over the shoulders. He told me that he had seen something similar on the market, for about 500 euros. So he had put his skills to work and bought items and made the trolley himself, with lightweight and inexpensive parts, easily found in hardware shops. The actual connection from harness to trolley was simply two seatbelt clips. It looked a little odd, but he assured me it was comfortable and only felt like carrying about 5 kilos across his shoulders. The wheels seemed to cope with pretty well any surface, even the rougher terrains, and he had no problems keeping a rhythm to match my own. I partly envied Herman, because of the way my load had seemed to become increasingly heavier, during the trip thusfar. I was fighting the desire to throw it all away and walk only with the clothes on my back. But I kept telling myself that at some point I was going to need the coat, fleece and spare socks.
Since my previous Camino, where I regularly carried 15 kg on a daily basis, I had been able to be more strict with myself. Though the present load with water was approaching around 11 kg`s. I had taken good advice and reduced the weight of the essential items, such as sleeping bag, coat and drinking pouch, and changes of clothes. This new bag, properly designed and manufactured by Berghaus was almost 2kg`s lighter than the previous one. This was very good news, however I knew I still had to be strict with myself, else the pack would soon fill up, with items better left at home. In some ways, this gleening of nessecities was a Cathartic experience. I began to realise just what I could do without. Everything else seemed to find greater worth on my way to new horizons. I am sure that pilgrims of old carried far less than I am, but then again their hygene was not very high on the agenda, not what we now expect as civil.
The scenery was as ever breathtaking. We managed a fairly good pace for a guy with a trolley and an overweight Englishman. By mid day we arrived to some steeper climbs and were constantly being met by downhill mountainbikers. They seemed used to, suddenly meeting pilgrims coming in the other direction, and fortunately no incidents occured. The rains from an earlier storm had torn great rivulets into some parts of the track. Steadily Herman managed to negotiate them all, as too the cyclists rushing by. Oddly enough we also met local people walking towards us, we assumed they were visiting some of the many Cortijos that we were passing.
Herman and I found great humour in discussing all of the light topics for conversation, based on the normal stereotypical nationalistic ideologies. Topics such as, the holocaust, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Herman had spent the biggest part of his life in the German army, as an Engineering, Chief Officer. Working for the joint Nato forces in many destinations and opperations. He therefore had lots of very interesting and varied stories to share with me. This is of course another of the great reasons to walk the Camino, it brings a wonderful variety of opportunities to us. The chance to spend time with people from not only different backgrounds, nations and cultures, but people with great stories to tell. For me, a great source of understanding has come from open and frank discussions with people, that I would not have the chance to meet in  my ordinary day to day life.
I found Herman to be both well educated and an inquirer of knowledge. We managed to pass away the rest of the afternoon, talking about everything from religion to women. Which happens to be my favorite subject. (The latter not the former)
He told me a story about a, ´friend` of his who had said, he wanted to come on the Camino and pay a woman, preferably young fit and healthy, to carry his rucksack all the way to Santiago..... and walk ten paces infront all day.....
Of course neither of us saw the fairness of such an idea. I mean, women are not our slaves are they?
I wonder though, if the idea might catch on !!!!!

As we arrived into the village I had to laugh. It seems that to access the Albergue here, you have to go to the local petrol station, where you get the stamp for the Credencia and the code to a padlock on the front door of the accomadation. I had never dreamt that Repsol would be the spiritual guardians of the Pilgrims hostels..
The accomodation was very nice and reasonably tidy, though the shower head was cracked. It did help me to give the bathroom a quick clean in the process of me showering.
We soon met up at the bar across the road, and ate like kings. With our fingers, throwing the bones over our shoulders.........
Suddenly, whilst in the middle of dessert course, another of the pilgrims came over with bad news, that the ´control` had arrived. I thought that we had done something wrong, before realising that at some of the hostels and Albergues, the local authorities needed to keep strict records of visitors to their establishments. After we returned to the bar to pay and have a night cap, it was again time for bed. Herman and I had somehow been invited to a breakfast at the home of a German lady that also welcomed pilgrims. For this reason neither of us had any intentions in getting up super early.

Leaving Sevilla (Cont)

Being unable to finish the first chapter of my book, ´til around  2pm, I began my first day, passing by the Cathedral at around 3pm, on my way out of the city. Not a good plan, I hasten to add, but I finally arrived in Guillena at about 9pm. The sun had not been very kind, but rather refreshingly, the local people had been, as they helped a late walking pilgrim out of the city away from Sevilla, in the direction of Santiago. The lights were burning all about the village, as I walked through the darkening evening, along dusty tracks, to Guillena. You have to walk along a rather scary path along side the river, which is falling away year by year, with the rains, and possibly high water levels. Fortunately the sign which had warned of 1metre depths, must have been relative to an earlier season. I crossed the river into the town as night finally closed in around me, and four local gentleman, were very pleased to direct me in the direction of the local sports stadium. I was sure they didn´t expect me to do some track events at this time, especially after such a long walk..... The Albergue shared the entrance to the facility. Suprisingly, the Albergues seem to run on a rather odd self service system for the most part here in Andalucia. It took me a while to understand what the people in the bar were telling me. They hold the keys and the Albergue is free, so you need to open the door then bring the keys back to them. I was tired and exhausted, more than their lack of explanation. It seems that the accomodation is provided by the local council and maintained by them. But as its free, the pilgrims need to try to clean it themselves. The facility was pretty good though. I spied for the first time on the Camino, pilgrims, seated at an outside table. Their warm friendly and knowing smiles reasurred me, I had once again met the real bretheren of the ´Camino`. A French couple, and a German, a veteran walker.
The food was excelent in the bar, I forgoed the shower, not wanting to miss out on a decent meal. I needn`t have worried at all, as the bar stayed open ´til late, the wee small hours infact, as was testified to, by revellers from the local village, whilst the few pilgrims here, tried to sleep. I had a brief conversation with Herman, the German, who had already done both the Camino Frances, and the Portugese Camino, from Porto to Santiago. He was a very jolly and kindly man, with a huge capacity to accomodate all the pilgrims, with his linguistic skills. We had a very envigourating chat, but then both needed to get some sleep. I was finally doing, what I had come here to do. Walk the Via de la Plata, and enjoy the people I would meet on the way to Santiago.

Leaving Sevilla

After again resting my feet in Sevilla, meeting with Qt had been a wonderful reunion. I sensed a difference in her that I suspected was not good for our Camino future together. But, being a patient soul I let her show me around the city she had come to know these past few days, for once becoming the leader of discovery. I have to say I really ejoyed the city I had never known, and there was plenty of things to see, experiences to have. The tapas bar on Via de la Constitution for example, was a real pleasure for both of us. Also during my time here, I was able to get the first of my postings on the blog, and the story underway. My Idea to have a live blog/story finally coming to life. Unfortunately for me, Qt has decided to change the direction of her travels at this time, in search of experience, less painfull on her feet, I suppose. This has robbed me, cruely, of my Typist. I was hoping that with her superior technical experience and fast secretarial skills, I would be able to get my story, as "LIVE" at a faster rate. Seemingly you readers will have to be more patient, as I can type about 18 words per minute, and what with Internet availability on the Camino, I will either have to walk slower, or learn to type faster.... It has been possible, and of course always is, to do less Camino per day and be able to write more regularly. This may not be possible everyday for various reasons, bet well hey.... this is the story which is writting itself, so I have no control over what it choses !!!

Good luck QT, on what you decide to do henceforth ....
And thankyou for sharing with me, ´til now, the ´Camino pequeno Andaluz`.

In my experience of life so far, it is more than evident that for good experiences to exist, then bad ones, must be their opposite. (As a concept, how can light be light, without the absense of light? We call this darkness.) I try not to be negative, seeing normally, good coming from bad on lots of occasions. In relation to the camino from Sevilla however, I have to make myself known on several points of dissappointment. I will be brief, as in the main the overall experience has been a wonderfully enlightening one.
Having walked previously from St Jean pied du port in France, on the camino Frances, I was overwhelmed by the attention to detail of the information and help available to the naive or uninformed. Whilst I admit myself here I did little in the way of preparation, in the gathering of information as to routes and distances from Sevilla onwards to santiago, I have found that little help or clear information is available by the usual routes. You cannot for example, get a credencial from the Cathedral. You have to go to a hotel, the Hotel Don Simon, in a street close to the Cathedral. You then have to be available, at the convenience of the priest to get a sello (Camino stamp) in your Credencial. Which is between 10am and 2pm.
The staff at the various points around the cathedral are rather uninformed, or clueless about what the Camino de Santiago actually is. (My personal experience) Based upon have a reasonable grip on their Langauge. and an attention to try to reason out with them I could not hang around ´til the following day for the stamp.
And of course, Gods house is not free to visit for pilgrims, apparently he needs your cash to install better security systems, in case you fancy taking something away with you, in your already heavy backpack !!!!
Even the tourist information offices are poor at helping with any directions as to how and from where you find, and follow the Camino out of Sevilla. And to add, the people of Sevilla who live and work here, seem to have no idea either where to find the Camino markings.

I am aware that to this end, many well informed guides have been created to assist you with these difficulties. Without one, like me, you will have to rely on some serious common sense and determination to find your way out of the city to the first markers. I found my first yellow arrow at Camas, several kilometres from Sevilla, and even then they were a little hard to find until Santiponce.

VIA DE LA PLATA

Am about to start the story from Sevilla onwards and may return to the days of the story missed out here at a later stage, so am leaving a space to fill the story in if It fits better here in terms of the flow of the journey.

Peaceful Warrior x