It is often said that soccer is a hooligan’s game played by gentlemen. It is certainly a social game, and watching it as a televised sport in isolation, to my mind at least, is quite tedious. However, together with a crowd of rambunctious revelers, either at the stadium or with a pint of artisanal brew at a pub, the entire event becomes quite a lot of fun. It is, first and foremost, a community sport. On this last trip I remember going into bars to watch games where the audience was often more entertaining than the game. If this planet has any one sport that could be called “Earth’s game”, it must surely be soccer. There were 204 nations which tried out for the FIFA world cup, more than is represented at the UN. It is an enormously watched global event.
Whereas many other games, particularly many Olympic sports, can simply by virtue of the expense involved in the related equipment be the exlusive domain of first world countries, soccer just requires a couple of posts and a ball. I have seen children play soccer in Eastern Turkey with just a couple of rusty cans demarcating the goal posts and a ball which appeared to be made out of plastic shopping bags and packing tape. Compare this to the cost and infrastructure implied by an ice skating rink and outfitting an entire team of hockey players. Or for that matter the various classes of sailing in the Olympics, where the boat alone is worth over a million dollars, and no team ever shows up just with one boat. The same goes for equestrian sports, and most winter sports: it is a rich man/nation’s game.
This afternoon I was on Commercial Drive amongst a very pro-German crowd and that team did not fail to impress. Their precision passing and tight text-book perfect combinations made short work of the Australians, resulting in a humiliating 4-0 loss. The Germans are going to be a very tough team to win this year, and clearly the Eurocup loss in 2008 has not been forgotten. I was on The Drive on that eventful afternoon, and it was quite the party.Recall that Spain had not won in over 40 years, and it was miraculous that they had advanced as far as they had. They first had to beat Italy, and I made it a point of being at an Italian café on the drive to see this, because I was convinced the Italians would win. Miraculously, Spain advanced to the final round against Germany. I remember thinking, “Nooooo!!! Not the Germans! Anyone but the Germans!” so I was prepared for a loss that afternoon. Much to my surprise, The Drive became rather polarized – the pro-German fans seemed to congregate around pubs and restaurants South of 1st, and the pro-Spain fans north of first. Police were as thick as thieves on The Drive, no doubt expecting the worst. As usual I had a bicycle with me, and flitted back and forth between the two camps. The game was a nail biter: the Germans playing their particular brand of precision soccer, with everything carefully choreographed and planned, the Spanish improvising and playing a rigorously offensive game, maintaining the lion's share of the ball possession. In the end, Spain won 1-0, but not without many close calls on both sides. In actuality it could have been a win to either team, so closely were they matched.
I followed this fellow around, clearly drunk, clearly Italian, and captured in glorious CycloVision. Half way through his rant he notices he's carrying his flag upside down...
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Burgos to Fromista
A wonderful day on the Camino, though not particularly eventful, but still a great deal of fun.
As the weather gnomes predicted, it would be a lovely day out, with only mild winds from the West and trending a bit to South, South West, but all under 15 kms an hour, so nothing to complain about. The temperatures are hovering around 15C during the day, though they do dip to around 5C at night and in the morning, so absolutely wonderful for cycling, but by the standards of these poor people, dreadfully cold.
Started the day out reasonably not early, as the wonderful hotel I stayed at, the Hotel Aquarelas (The Watercolours Hotel) had a fabulous buffet spread for breakfast, so rolled out of there quite late, around 10ish, but today´s Camino stage is only to Fromista, some 70 kms away, and most importantly, on the meseta, the flat section of Spain (where the rain actually does NOT fall, being quite dry). This time of year everything is just coming into bloom, and all very green and lovely. It will be considerably different in 4 months, which is the height of the pilgrimage season, this year they may even break the 200,000 mark, due to it´s increasing popularity, but also because it is a Jacobean year (the feast of St. James falls on a Sunday) consequently doing the Camino this year will obviate all previous sins, and gives the traveller a clean slate to start afresh. You all know how important this is to me…
Leaving Burgos is very pleasant compared to entering it, which requires trundling though the industrial outskirts, the same as any other large town, just jarring from the usual medieval feel of the trip which is designed specifically to showcase the most beautiful corners of this region. It is a matter of civic and provincial pride in these parts to keep up their section of The Camino, and vast amounts of money have been spent in this regard. The good citizens of the Camino towns have been providing hospitality to travelers for over 1000 years, and it is indeed taken quite seriously, because even in a slack year, well over 150,000 pilgrims will do this trek, and at an average expenditure of anywhere from $20 to $250 a day per visitor, depending on how decadent one wants to be, the amount of money in question is not trivial.
Which leads me back to leaving Burgos, again the ubiquitous cycle dedicated cycle paths leading into the city (I weep for my adopted city) and lovely green meadows and fields. The other thing I have noticed is that every single church I have seen between Los Arcos and here has a stork´s nest on top of it. It is really quite a sight to see this giant birds circle around the spires of churches and cathedrals and gracefully alight in their giant nests. It being Easter Sunday there were all sorts of people dressed up in interesting Medieval type outfits, and at the entrance to one church, whose medieval carvings I was studying, I was almost run over by an Easter procession, the sound of their approach being drowned out by the clanging bells. The Camino climbs a bit past Burgos, but it is only a few hundred meters and over several kms, so nothing serious, or at least not any more to me, having conquered the Pyrenees. In a couple of hours, just in time for lunch, I came into a deserted town of San Bol, which was mysteriously abandoned in 1503, possibly due to disease, possibly connected with the expulsion of the Jews, or possibly as the 17th century traveler Laffi mentioned, from swarms of locusts. No bugs in sight today, and these beautiful green fields apparently will be chock a block with sunflowers as far as the eye can see come summer, their seeds being one of the area´s largest exports.
A few kms further down the path I came suddenly upon the town of Hontanas, another little village of around 70 inhabitants according to my iPhone guide, but very ancient and well set up to accommodate pilgrims. I counted 3 albergues and a hostel, all tiny mind you, but full of character and ancient. Had a very leisurely meal with a couple of French pilgrims who sat at the next table and that have traveled all the way from Chartres, and were telling me how much they are enjoying this trip. As it is still somewhat cool, and the vacation season in Europe has not started yet, there are mercifully few young pilgrims, and the pilgrims who are here are a bit older, and quite a bit more thoughtful and interesting. Like everyone I talk to, these people have no religious interest whatsoever, though they are nominally Catholic, this comedy of piousness which everyone treats them with here in Spain is to them quite a lark. I remind them of the quote from that Spanish philosopher Seneca, who said: “Religion is regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by the rulers as useful.” We all have a good laugh. They remind me that Napoleon once said that “religion was the only thing which kept the poor from murdering the rich.” I wonder how true that still is now, at least in Christian countries that tend to be more developed than Muslim countries.
Had a lovely lunch of potato, onion and egg omelet and a lovely salad, again not being particularly abstemious with the wine as I really have developed a taste for them, despite my usual steady diet of Catalan wines. Wine says so much about the people of a region, there in a single glass, I can tell how they think, what they believe, the values they hold important, what is beautiful for them, how they live their lives, their summers, their winters, even their feelings about technology. All of this, condensed into a single drink. It would take tomes of books to describe everything about the history, philosophy, and values of a region, and yet a single drink will tell me everything I need to know. Rolled out of there around 2ish, the bells of the church had just struck, and trundled along to the ruins of the monastery of St. Anton. The camino goes literally through the ruins of the monastery. The Orden de los Antonianos rose out of a miraculous cure for San Anton’s fire, a burning disease similar to leprosy that was rampant in the Middle Ages. Hospices such as this one were set up all along the camino, treating diseased pilgrims with exercise, red wine, and the divine hand of St. Anton. Two of these three items will likely work and you, dear reader, get to choose which is the odd man out. Just as I was approaching the ruins, I saw my first pilgrim on the trail for the day, and she was quite a sight! Raven black hair, black lipstick, black fingernail polish, smoking a black cigarette, black wrap around sunglasses, black clothes, and with a studded black leather back pack. “Oh!” I said, taken a bit aback.
“Hello” she said, in unaccented Spanish.
“Um, quite the sight, isn´t it?” I said, trying to decide whether I meant her or the ruins.
“I love the crows” she said, and indeed, a few crows were perched quietly on the trefoils of the gothic tracery.
“Where are you from?” I blurted out, after taking a few pictures.
“Barcelona”, she said, “and you?”.
“Vancouver,” I said. It would be too complicated to explain…
“I hear it is nice there”
“Rains a lot” I said.
I have just noticed that it is almost midnight. This narrative will have to wait. I have posted the pictures for the day, but have not labeled them yet.
Good night!
As the weather gnomes predicted, it would be a lovely day out, with only mild winds from the West and trending a bit to South, South West, but all under 15 kms an hour, so nothing to complain about. The temperatures are hovering around 15C during the day, though they do dip to around 5C at night and in the morning, so absolutely wonderful for cycling, but by the standards of these poor people, dreadfully cold.
Started the day out reasonably not early, as the wonderful hotel I stayed at, the Hotel Aquarelas (The Watercolours Hotel) had a fabulous buffet spread for breakfast, so rolled out of there quite late, around 10ish, but today´s Camino stage is only to Fromista, some 70 kms away, and most importantly, on the meseta, the flat section of Spain (where the rain actually does NOT fall, being quite dry). This time of year everything is just coming into bloom, and all very green and lovely. It will be considerably different in 4 months, which is the height of the pilgrimage season, this year they may even break the 200,000 mark, due to it´s increasing popularity, but also because it is a Jacobean year (the feast of St. James falls on a Sunday) consequently doing the Camino this year will obviate all previous sins, and gives the traveller a clean slate to start afresh. You all know how important this is to me…
Leaving Burgos is very pleasant compared to entering it, which requires trundling though the industrial outskirts, the same as any other large town, just jarring from the usual medieval feel of the trip which is designed specifically to showcase the most beautiful corners of this region. It is a matter of civic and provincial pride in these parts to keep up their section of The Camino, and vast amounts of money have been spent in this regard. The good citizens of the Camino towns have been providing hospitality to travelers for over 1000 years, and it is indeed taken quite seriously, because even in a slack year, well over 150,000 pilgrims will do this trek, and at an average expenditure of anywhere from $20 to $250 a day per visitor, depending on how decadent one wants to be, the amount of money in question is not trivial.
Which leads me back to leaving Burgos, again the ubiquitous cycle dedicated cycle paths leading into the city (I weep for my adopted city) and lovely green meadows and fields. The other thing I have noticed is that every single church I have seen between Los Arcos and here has a stork´s nest on top of it. It is really quite a sight to see this giant birds circle around the spires of churches and cathedrals and gracefully alight in their giant nests. It being Easter Sunday there were all sorts of people dressed up in interesting Medieval type outfits, and at the entrance to one church, whose medieval carvings I was studying, I was almost run over by an Easter procession, the sound of their approach being drowned out by the clanging bells. The Camino climbs a bit past Burgos, but it is only a few hundred meters and over several kms, so nothing serious, or at least not any more to me, having conquered the Pyrenees. In a couple of hours, just in time for lunch, I came into a deserted town of San Bol, which was mysteriously abandoned in 1503, possibly due to disease, possibly connected with the expulsion of the Jews, or possibly as the 17th century traveler Laffi mentioned, from swarms of locusts. No bugs in sight today, and these beautiful green fields apparently will be chock a block with sunflowers as far as the eye can see come summer, their seeds being one of the area´s largest exports.
A few kms further down the path I came suddenly upon the town of Hontanas, another little village of around 70 inhabitants according to my iPhone guide, but very ancient and well set up to accommodate pilgrims. I counted 3 albergues and a hostel, all tiny mind you, but full of character and ancient. Had a very leisurely meal with a couple of French pilgrims who sat at the next table and that have traveled all the way from Chartres, and were telling me how much they are enjoying this trip. As it is still somewhat cool, and the vacation season in Europe has not started yet, there are mercifully few young pilgrims, and the pilgrims who are here are a bit older, and quite a bit more thoughtful and interesting. Like everyone I talk to, these people have no religious interest whatsoever, though they are nominally Catholic, this comedy of piousness which everyone treats them with here in Spain is to them quite a lark. I remind them of the quote from that Spanish philosopher Seneca, who said: “Religion is regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by the rulers as useful.” We all have a good laugh. They remind me that Napoleon once said that “religion was the only thing which kept the poor from murdering the rich.” I wonder how true that still is now, at least in Christian countries that tend to be more developed than Muslim countries.
Had a lovely lunch of potato, onion and egg omelet and a lovely salad, again not being particularly abstemious with the wine as I really have developed a taste for them, despite my usual steady diet of Catalan wines. Wine says so much about the people of a region, there in a single glass, I can tell how they think, what they believe, the values they hold important, what is beautiful for them, how they live their lives, their summers, their winters, even their feelings about technology. All of this, condensed into a single drink. It would take tomes of books to describe everything about the history, philosophy, and values of a region, and yet a single drink will tell me everything I need to know. Rolled out of there around 2ish, the bells of the church had just struck, and trundled along to the ruins of the monastery of St. Anton. The camino goes literally through the ruins of the monastery. The Orden de los Antonianos rose out of a miraculous cure for San Anton’s fire, a burning disease similar to leprosy that was rampant in the Middle Ages. Hospices such as this one were set up all along the camino, treating diseased pilgrims with exercise, red wine, and the divine hand of St. Anton. Two of these three items will likely work and you, dear reader, get to choose which is the odd man out. Just as I was approaching the ruins, I saw my first pilgrim on the trail for the day, and she was quite a sight! Raven black hair, black lipstick, black fingernail polish, smoking a black cigarette, black wrap around sunglasses, black clothes, and with a studded black leather back pack. “Oh!” I said, taken a bit aback.
“Hello” she said, in unaccented Spanish.
“Um, quite the sight, isn´t it?” I said, trying to decide whether I meant her or the ruins.
“I love the crows” she said, and indeed, a few crows were perched quietly on the trefoils of the gothic tracery.
“Where are you from?” I blurted out, after taking a few pictures.
“Barcelona”, she said, “and you?”.
“Vancouver,” I said. It would be too complicated to explain…
“I hear it is nice there”
“Rains a lot” I said.
I have just noticed that it is almost midnight. This narrative will have to wait. I have posted the pictures for the day, but have not labeled them yet.
Good night!
Saturday, April 03, 2010
The Camino, Burgos
Have arrived in Burgos, only slightly ahead of the weather, and battling very strong headwinds all the way from San Domingo de la Calzada. The wind was so strong that I had to pedal every inch of the way down hills, and going up hill was very much harder. During one stretch I was pedalling so hard that the top gear on the bicycle exploded all over the Camino. In over 40 years of cycling this has never happened to me. In any case, all the lower gears were intact, but with this gear missing, all the upper gears were loose, and only intermittently engaging and causing a terrible crunching sound of the chain as it tried to engage two sprockets at once. With a little bit of ingenuity and tie-straps I was carrying, I managed to fix the drive train so that the lowest 3 gears still worked passably well. In this state I managed to crawl the last 20 kms. into Burgos where I easily found a bicycle store that treated me very well being as I was a peregrino. Pilgrims are treated with the utmost deference in Spain. Though it is becoming a popular thing to do, still well over 80% of the pilgrims are Spanish, so the sight of one who had a Canadian flag on his jacket, but spoke Castilian fluently, doubly surprised them. They also had never seen this type of American bicycle, and quite liked the frame, but were less than impressed with the components, which are mostly Taiwanese or Japanese in any case. They thought my "remedio" was very funny but ingenious, and even took some pictures. "Estos Catalanes", these Catalans, they said laughing at my improvisational fix. Within the hour, while I had lunch, they put on a new cassette, new chain, and tightened every bolt on the poor bicycle that has been getting quite a hard workout the last few days, and was completely covered in mud. They assured me that the new gears, being Italian (the broken ones were Taiwanese) will easily take me to Santiago. For 35 euros, a pat on the back and a hearty "buen camino" I cycled into the center of Burgos to see the cathedral and get my credential stamped. The bicycle feels much stronger now, and the new gears shift very silk smoothly - the difference in the European cut gears is significant. When I get home, I think I shall remove every last piece of Asian accoutrement and outfit the entire bicycle with European equipment.
Luckily all the hotels I stay at have a garage for bicycle tourists, so I don't have to fold it up and take it upstairs every night, which is no big deal, but usually I'm somewhat tired after a day's ride and would prefer to have a hot bath and a meal straight away than fiddle around with folding bicycles. The bicycle is getting a great deal of attention, being rare even in North America , and even more rare here. No one seems to have seen a full sized mountain bike with suspension that folds, much less one with the Hummer logo prominently displayed on it. I've had several people ask me if it was the same company that makes the "fabulous" American vehicles, and I said yes, though that is technically only partly true - it is a Montague bicycle made under license to GM. People here are very fond of cycling, and my iPhone (whose GPS guided me to the bicycle store that fixed the bike) showed 6 bicycle stores on the map of the old section of Burgos alone. It is fortunate that this mishap happened here, because it is unlikely that there will be many more bicycle stores from here to Leon. Having said that, if the wind manages to subside, I will not be putting the tremendous stress on the bicycle that I have been during the last two days, as the last hour of cycling was quite flat. The fellow at the shop assured me that the stages since Logrono are some of the hardest, and from here to Astorga the Camino is mostly flat. If the wind subsides, this will be a very pleasant ride for the next few days.
Last night I stayed at a very funky hotel called "El Chocolatero". When I asked about the provenance of the name, the owner proudly informed me that his family had been in the chocolate business since the 16th century, in fact, almost since the first ships brought back coca from the new world. I told him I was very much a dedicated fan of chocolate, and he said "well, walk this way!" I toured his chocolate facilities, and sampled several varieties, all very excellent and different and sophisticated. Of one particular variety I liked, I asked for a tablet, and he said it was 3 euros. I pulled out three coins and he plunked down a beautifully wrapped brick which weighs in at 1/2 a kilo! And here I am trying to consider every ounce on my bicycle. Between doggy biscuits and great slabs of old style dark chocolate I will be carrying a ton of extra weight. Oh well, nothing for it but to burn off the calories, eat chocolate, feed the doggys, and trundle on. Though we do have many imported chocolates in Canada, anyone who is knowledgeable will tell you straight away that the best is not imported; the demand is just not there. Yes, there are some mass produced Belgian, German and Austrian brands that make it in, but these are not by any stretch of the imagination the best that Europe has to offer, nor are they the hand-made artisan varieties which I love so much. I had a very pleasant chat with the owner of the hotel, who invited me to wine, and incidentally it was quite a pleasure to be out of the Basque area in this respect.
The day before I had visited the famous Bodegas Irache, with their fountain that has taps for wine and for water, so little is wine thought of in Spain. I had a glass or two, well possibly three, well, in any case it was less than a dozen, I think, as I was quite parched and talking with a fellow from Pamplona and we drank some more glasses together talking about the difference between the rough, strident Basque wines and the gentle, delicate Catalan wines. "It is a matter of character", he said. "The Basques are thick skulled, and the Catalans are all brain." Be that as it may, I had my fill of rough Basque wine and hit the Camino again, singing La donna è mobile and any other Verdi aria that came to mind at the top of my lungs, there being no one around for miles. Several kilometers later I passed an 18th century monastery that was locked up and switched to Mozart's Le Nozze de Figaro, and Non Piu Andrai, which seemed somewhat appropriate. Basque wines pack quite a punch as I soon discovered. Nevertheless, with the wild cuisine of the area, the cheeses, the rough bread, etc. it all fits and is appropriate. The saying in Spain is "con pan y vino se hace el Camino", "with wine and bread The Way is made." I have taken this to heart and in this millenarian tradition have stopped at every vineyard along the Camino and tasted the wines. The difference between the wines of every region is so profoundly different that if one didn't know any better, they would say they are each from another country.
Even despite my "indulgences" (rim shot), I seem to be losing weight and have had to punch a couple of new holes in my belt. I guess cycling for anywhere from 6-8 hours a day, mostly uphill or against winds, will burn rather a lot of calories.
After my chat with "The Chocolateer" he stamped my Pilgrim's credential and bade me a good trip. It was only then that on examining the 30 or so stamps in this "spiritual passport" that I realized most of them were not in fact from churches, monasteries or albergues, but rather from vineyards, sidrerias, bodegas and high end hotels. I wonder how that will play out once I arrive at Santiago. Oh dear, I'm being bad...
Thursday, April 01, 2010
The Camino at La Rioja
Jubilantes, jubilantes, ju! bi! lan! tes! I have arrived in La Rioja after many adventures and much merriment. The camino is quite a lot of fun, most especially if you are doing it the way I´m going, foregoing the dreaded albergues and staying in 3 or 4 star hotels and Paradores. Certain things are not negotiable - bathtubs, soap, lots of hot water, clean clothes, etc. Despite the fact that almost every town in Catalunya had WIFI easily obtainable, as my friend Nel is found of saying, Catalunya is not Spain. Internet has been spotty since I left, and even very good hotels do not necessarily have access. Oh well. Even if they did, I really don´t have a lot of time at the end of the day. After I´ve checked in, washed up, done a bit of laundry, and gone out for dinner, typically I´ll meet someone at the bar or at the restaurant, and we'll talk late into the night. The Spanish pilgrims are pretty intense, and we often get into the most interesting conversations. Here is an example:
"Well, don´t tell me you actually believe the bones of St. James are buried in Santiago?" asks Jose.
"No, of course not. Only fools or idiots would believe that."
"Well, then we agree", he says, taking a long drink of the silken smooth Sherry we are drinking. It is about 10C outside, and Jose assures me this is very cold. I find it a perfect temperature for cycling.
"But then, what is your motivation for doing the Camino?" I ask.
"Oh, it has nothing to do with religion. It´s entirely for my health," he says, lighting up his 3rd cigarette since we´ve started talking.
"Well, don´t tell me you actually believe the bones of St. James are buried in Santiago?" asks Jose.
"No, of course not. Only fools or idiots would believe that."
"Well, then we agree", he says, taking a long drink of the silken smooth Sherry we are drinking. It is about 10C outside, and Jose assures me this is very cold. I find it a perfect temperature for cycling.
"But then, what is your motivation for doing the Camino?" I ask.
"Oh, it has nothing to do with religion. It´s entirely for my health," he says, lighting up his 3rd cigarette since we´ve started talking.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
The Camino Catalan
Just lying in bed slacking off and trying to decide what to have for breakfast. I'm thinking chocolate and churros. Tour is going well, though I'm looking forward to clearing the Pyrenees and making up some time on the flats. Weather forcast is for rain on wednesday, so will play that by ear. Being holed up in a medieval monestary or cloister waiting for the rain to stop is actually a pleasant way to spend the afternoon, taking pictures of all the various monsters depicted on columns and such, making sketches and water colours... I shall certainly be an expert on 12th century defensive architecture when this is done. Free WIFI is everywhere and unexpected in a perfectly preserved Medieval town, in general Catalunya is very tech savvy (though very tastefully concealed) and the infrastruture and signage on the route is excellent, if not well used. Have not seen any other pilgrims to date, but it is early and this part of the Camino is a bit obscure. As well, getting my pilgrims credential stamped mid day is difficult as everything is closed, including the clergy that take some time mid- day from their no doubt onerous duties to have some lunch with their wine... straight from Chaucer or Bocaccio, nothing has changed in a 1000 years, but that is a benefit to me who is in search of authenticity ( he says while dictating into his speech recognition software on his iPhone) In any case, the local pubs are always keen to merrily stamp my credential, and this is important because I need to prove I have travelled this far to get the cosmic browny points and qualify for the Compostella certificate in Santiago. This being a Xacobean year I think they are also throwing in a set of steak knives as well. But wait! There's more! If you order now...
I'm feeling every ounce when I pedal up those hills, so the fact that i'm travelling with 10.5 pounds of gear is quite a blessing. Leaving the net book and taking along the iPhone (with sim removed) was the right choice. In fact, i may actually mail some items back to further lighten the bicycle. The good news is that traffic is a none issue. In 5 hours of riding yesterday I encountered only 2 cars. Ye twod be supposed upont ye consideraxion that suche facilitaciones are of mooch remedious extravigansh untoo thees tha'wold mack sooch a piligrinashione.
I'm feeling every ounce when I pedal up those hills, so the fact that i'm travelling with 10.5 pounds of gear is quite a blessing. Leaving the net book and taking along the iPhone (with sim removed) was the right choice. In fact, i may actually mail some items back to further lighten the bicycle. The good news is that traffic is a none issue. In 5 hours of riding yesterday I encountered only 2 cars. Ye twod be supposed upont ye consideraxion that suche facilitaciones are of mooch remedious extravigansh untoo thees tha'wold mack sooch a piligrinashione.
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