Oh, Portugal

Following a hectic three weeks of working on the election and then throwing everything in a suitcase without time to think about it, Lee and I took off for Sydney on the Murrays coach. When we got to the Jolimont Centre and Lee went to pay for our breakfasts, he discovered he did not have his wallet. With no time to go back and look for it, chaos ensued. Daughter Nell was contacted, she went to the apartment while we travelled to Sydney and took it apart, failing to find the wallet. Nevertheless she drove to Sydney to deliver a spare drivers licence to Lee. As neither his eftpos nor his credit card has been used, we assume the wallet is hidden somewhere at home. Fortunately much can be done on line, we have TravelMoney Cards (I still had both of them when we left), and all is more or less well. As they said in Apollo 13, "Looks like we've had the glitch for the mission". 

Then after the rush to board (we had been wandering in a fog), followed a long but uneventful flight - Thai Air to Bangkok then Lufthansa to Frankfurt and then Lisbon. About 30 hours all told, none of which we'll ever get back. The trip messed us around more than previous ones had, and we really couldn't give Lisbon the attention it deserved. However, there were some high- and low-lights to recount.

The combination high- and low-light was our accommodation. It was brilliantly situated, in Alfama, a labyrinth of narrow, cobble-stoned streets going up or down almost randomly. We were just around the corner from the Lisbon Cathedral, also called the Se, the oldest church in the city and the see of the Archdiocese of Lisbon.  A huge tourist area, so lots of little shops selling souvenirs of Portugal, including potery fish or fish on tiles, aprons or tee-shirts, and pottery roosters (?). Our apartment was up 2 flights of stairs, and we had a large room to ourselves, plus use of a kitchen and a bathroom, shared with three other rooms (potentially 8 persons). We have of course made a pact never to share a bathroom again. The bed, wonder of wonders, was comfortable, and we spent a lot of time on it! The main other downside of the accommodation was that they had charged my credit card twice, and failed to respond to my complaints. I have found that Booking.com is worth their weight in gold - a customer service person waited on the phone while the manager put through a refund that frankly I don't think she had any intention of doing before that.

Lisbon is chokker block full of history - who knew? We got a lot of it during a walking tour we did, which was very informative and not tooooo tiring. Our guide knew all the public elevators we could use to get from one point to another, and we discovered that these elevators connect, making a path for pedestrians from the high parts of the city to the low ones. One of the most striking things we visited was a cathedral which had burnt and then was not restored except for the ceiling. It was almost spooky without the usual gilt and bright colours. 

Lisbon's outstanding feature is its tile walls, sometimes covering half or more of a building. 

Sculptures in the Parque Alameda, Santiago de Compostela

In the Parque de Alameda stands a sculpture by Cesar Lambera of two women in bright coloured clothing. These women are known as "The Two Marias".

The women actually lived: sisters Maruxa and Coralia Fandino Ricart. During the regime of Franco and into the 1980s the two sisters would enter Alameda Park at 2pm dressed in bright clothing, high heels and make-up. They would gallivant around and flirt with the local university students.

Stories vary as to their motivation - whether they were simply tring to find some enjoyment in their troublesome life, or whether they were mentally ill as a result of traumas they and their family had suffered over the years. Whatever the reason, after their deaths in the 1980s, the sculptor created the statues in memory of the two women.

The statues have become a favourite spot for visitors to the park and Santiago to come to have photographs taken. This photograph includes a guide from the Academia Iria Flavia, and a student.

Another sculpture in the park is of a beloved 19th/20th century poet named Ramon Maria del Valle Inclan, known for his long beard and for being one of the best representatives of the modern style. The statue is also by Cesar Lombera, and is seated on a bench along the Promenade of Lions, where the the poet was able to contemplate the beauty of the cathedral. Many visitors to the park have their photo taken sitting beside Valle-Inclan.

I was over a month in Santiago de Compostela and in some ways it felt more like years. Learning Spanish in partial immersion is hard work and tiring so I was always glad to have opportunities to speak English or French. 

Santiago is a small city of about 100,000, and while it has other reasons for its existence (such as a prestigious university) the pilgrims dominate, especially in the old city and around the Cathedral. What's most entertaining is the number of shops selling pilgrim souvenirs, including walking sticks and the scallop shells the pilgrims carry. Entertaining because it's the end of the journey for most so no need for those sorts of souvenirs -- they should have picked them up at the start of their trip. On the other hand, rhinestone-bejewelled shells on bracelets and necklaces work! Not to mention tee-shirts with pilgrims crossing Abbey Road. Seeing the pilgrims streaming in is disconcerting enough for me -- I wonder how the locals really feel about them. They are reliant on the trade the pilgrims bring, but probably also resent them a bit. 

That being said, I have found the people I have dealt with, predominantly in shops and cafes, consistently friendly, patient (with our limited Spanish) and honest. I doubt that I have ever been ripped off in Santiago. Restaurant bills are itemised and while tips aren't expected, they are appreciated. There are a few beggars in the street, some of whom are no doubt genuine. The elderly lady kneeling on a cushion for hours and hours must be genuine. On the other hand, there is another, younger man who takes time out occasionally to read a book. Signs are usually hand-printed but in one case laminated, often setting out why they are in need of ayuda (help). A few have accompanying dogs,but fewer than is common in France.

Santiago does not feel the need to mark all the streets with their names -- an interesting touch. If you don't know what street it is, maybe you shouldn't be there! On the other hand, much money is spent on such things as keeping the place almost spotlessly clean and tidy, and of course building a great big shouty space just outside of town, the Cidade da Cultura (Galician for City of Culture). 

The Cidade de Cultura may one day be the Santiago equivalent of the Sydney Opera House or the Eiffel Tower, but at the moment it is too far out of town for most people to go to (and though week-day bus service is adequate, if you want to go on a week-end, plan on driving yourself or taking a taxi). It is grandiose, in the same way that other places we have been to in Spain are grandiose, brilliantly conceived but as is normal with buildings that are at the cutting edge of the technology, hugely expensive, and this one has well over-run its budget. Two of the buildings have been put on hold indefinitely, with the holes in the ground looking sad and pathetic. Someday I hope they will complete it and find better ways to link it to the city. 

Spending a month in one town is a great way to really get to know it. I did a lot of wandering around in the old city (called the zona monumental), where streets often narrowed to the point where you couldn't walk with your elbows out without hitting the walls, suddenly emerging into an irregularly shaped square with cafes and occasionally colonnades.It was cooler in the old city than on the usually wider streets in the new city. I lived with a host family and my hostess herself described the new city as ugly. It certainly had little to recommend it, with long blocks of identical, fairly uninteresting buildings, with one outstanding feature which was repeated throughout Galicia: bay windows, allegedly modelled on the back of 18th century ships, in order to catch as much sunlight as possible in an area that gets more rain and less sun than the rest of Spain. At one point, while most of Europe was sweltering with 35C+ temperatures Santiago had highs of 24C. Very pleasant. 

Santiago is in the province of Galicia, and the Galician influence is strong. Many people speak Galician rather than or as well as Spanish, and Galician food is promoted. The Galician empanada was always available, but hard to get excited about -- saute together onion and garlic, mix in some tuna, spread it thinly on a layer of dough, cover with another layer of dough and bake. Fish and seafood also were popular, and potatoes. The Galicians were not too big on salads generally, and the most common vegetable I saw was a kind of wide flat bean called judia, cooked for a long time in something that gave it an odd flavour -- maybe vinegar - and ham. The other common vegetable was a green pimento called pemento de Padron, about 4-5 cm long, cooked in oil and sprinkled with salt. Very nice, and approximately one in 20 had a real bit to it. Apparently no way of knowing which one would turn out to be hot. These were usually shared at a table along with the meal. The local cheese was great, and the area is also known for good wines, so I didn't suffer too much.

I had enrolled for a month in the Academia Iria Flavia school of Spanish. My classes were small, with 2 others initially, a Swiss and a Russian woman, both in their early 20s. My efforts over the previous year and a half paid off and I placed out of the first level and into the second level of classes, with these two who had already studied there for a month. After a week the Russian left, and a Norwegian woman and a Brazilian woman joined us a week later. For my last week we were joined by an American man who teaches high school French in Las Vegas, to mostly Hispanics, and he has found it is useful to be able to talk to them -- and listen to them -- in Spanish. I also got friendly with another Swiss woman, an American woman whose husband was also walking the Camino, about 2 weeks behind Lee, a German woman, and the Brazilian's American husband. We socialised a good bit and had a good time together, including celebrating the Brazilian's 50th birthday one night, and on 23 June celebrating la Noche de San Juan (summer solstice) with some fellow students. I took a day trip with the American woman to the Rias Bajas (lower rivers) area of Galicia, and the German woman (who had a car) and I visited the nearby towns of Lugo and A Coruna. After a while we actually made an effort to speak Spanish rather than English (which was the other common language). 

We had classes for about 4 hours a day, and most weekday evenings the school organised an activity, such as a visit to a museum or a Spanish language film.I certainly had some quibbles from time to time with the pedagogy, but overall I think it was pretty well done, and I certainly made a lot of progress. I discovered how well German is embedded in my brain, because when I couldn't think of the Spanish word or expression, often the German one would spring to mind. In particular, I invariably said 'mehr' instead of 'mas' for 'more'. But when Lee joined me I was able to organise for him to get replacement glasses and even have a chat with the woman in the shop about places to eat in Finisterra and Muxia, which we went to after Lee finished the Camino.

All in all, I think I enjoyed my time in Santiago de Compostela. Would I go back again? I don't know at this point. I'd like to do some more Spanish classes, maybe there, maybe elsewhere. I have a soft spot for it now, and it was a good feeling when Lee and I came back from the coast, to know where things were and be able to get around. It has a friendly feel about it, and the two times when I came home quite late from an evening with friends, I felt safe walking the streets late at night. That's a good thing to say about a place, I think.

Many things have gotten in the way of finishing this postcard, but here it is now. 

Postcard from the rocky road to the end of the earth

Looking back at Santiago

So, after Lee completed his own pilgrimage and joined me in Santiago for a couple days of R&R, we set off on a bicycle trip from Santiago to Fisterra (Finis Terrae = End of the Earth) and then Muxia, where we had booked a few days in a 'casolita' recommended to me by a campanero from Spanish class.

We had booked this trip through an Irish company called 'Caminoways', and it was supposed to be similar to ones we had done in previous years, to Champagne and the Dordogne: great bikes, reservations in good hotels, luggage transported for us, and well-designed routes along scenic backroads or bike paths.

Our bikes in their secure parking area at
Spa Hotel FInisterra

Well, the bikes were excellent: sturdy hybrids with plenty of gears and wider, knobbly tyres for off-roads. Our luggage was transported as expected and was always waiting for us when we arrived. The hotels were a mixture of good, bad and ugly, and I'll get to that in a minute. The route, when I read through it, however, was clearly the Camino – the one meant to be walked, not biked. As far as I could tell, no allowance had been made at all for the sections of the Camino that were, shall I say, bicycle-unfriendly. With Lee's experience, we knew that this was going to be a problem, and indeed, almost as soon as we got out of Santiago we were on narrow dirt paths, going up or down steep, rocky inclines, being passed by the walkers who didn't need to lug heavy bicycles along the Camino. On top of that, the first day of the bicycle tour combined two days of the walking tour, meaning we were supposed to ride nearly 60 km on this difficult route.

Happy pilgrims in the water

This clearly wasn't going to work. So Lee quickly did some route planning and we set off on our own Camino. I was suffering from a chest cold, on top of which I wasn't in good shape and hadn't done much cycling because Santiago really doesn't lend itself to cycling. So I was pretty sure I wasn't up to the entire trip. After a few false turns and a detour past a particularly lovely spot along a river, complete with waterfalls, rapids, disused water wheels and pilgrims wading and washing their feet, we stopped at a cafe and I called up the taxi service Lee had carefully taken note of when he came through there earlier. At that stage my Spanish was okay to order the taxi, but of course I almost never understood what people replied! Anyway, eventually the taxi came: a nice new car with a trailer attached. The driver spent a fair amount of time strapping our bikes onto the trailer and then drove us, partly along the route we were supposed to cycle, to our first hotel. And charged us 50 Euros for the privilege. At that point I would have been willing to pay much more.

So he dropped us at our first hotel. It turned out to be one of the two pilgrim hostels in the little town (and I mean little) and the one Lee had already stayed in. So far not much was really the quality we were used to from previous 'self-guided tours' we had taken.

Still the little town was charming, the room clean, the bed firm and the water hot -- what more do you need?

The next day I felt better, Lee had mapped out a route that kept us close to but not on the Camino and off the main roads, and we had only about 30 km to do. Piece of cake.