tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85358569005980084452024-02-06T18:47:39.022-08:00 Janet, The Happy WandererJanethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-63539431992985508412018-03-23T01:56:00.002-07:002018-03-23T01:56:34.428-07:00A new journey <br />
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<a href="https://wanderingyetagain.blogspot.com.au/?m=1" style="color: #1b0000; text-decoration-line: none;">Wandering Yet Again</a></h1>
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Tuesday, 20 March 2018</h2>
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The journey begins</h3>
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Well I am off yet again. This pilgrimage route is a different one, the Via Romea Germanica, and one I am really looking forward to. It follows the journey made by Abbot Albert from Stade, around 40kms north east of Hamburg, to Rome. Along the way I will be crossing several routes I have taken before, finally joining the Via Francigena for the last few days into Rome.<br /><br />In round figures I am anticipating walking in the vicinity of 2,300kms. From my research I think the first week or two will be quite flat, gradually rising as I move through Bavaria and on into Austria. In Italy the path is flat as I traverse the path around the River Po, before rising steeply to cross the Apennines. From there, heading south through Tuscany, there are numerous hilltop villages - so there will be much up and down.<br /><br />With the weather being somewhat colder than we have had in Australia, I will need warmer clothes and have had to pack a few extras for the cold I am anticipating. This means that my pack is a little heavier than I would like, however once the warmer weather arrives I may be able to post things home and lighten it.<br /><br />It is going to take me a couple of days to rest and recover from the flight and so I will be doing some sightseeing in Hamburg and Stade before setting off. Let the journey begin!</div>
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New blog is here </div>
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https://wanderingyetagain.blogspot.com.au</div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-79285933182485816792016-09-09T02:23:00.003-07:002016-09-09T02:23:46.375-07:00Off wandering,aAgain<div class="MsoNormal">
Here it is – only 15 months since I returned from my year long
journey and I am off on another Camino!
Two Caminos in fact! I have set
up a new blog and here is the address. You can register to receive any new
posts by email – just submit your email address and follow the directions. I hope you enjoy following my journey –
actually our journey – this time. The address is:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
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<a href="http://offwanderingagain.blogspot.com.au/">http://offwanderingagain.blogspot.com.au/</a> <o:p></o:p></div>
Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-13482454373436067332015-06-15T12:40:00.000-07:002015-06-15T12:40:41.565-07:00Signing off - till next time! Adios.I am sitting in the departure lounge at Heathrow, waiting for my flight to be called, ready to begin the long journey home. The last few days I have spent in London, generally just pottering. I bought a one day ticket on a "hop on, hop off" bus tour, which actually meant I could use it for 2 days. I did a number of trips with them and learnt all sorts of information about London.<br />
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<i>Looking towards St Martins in the Fields, with the art gallery on the left (and just a few people!)</i></div>
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<i>The simple cross in the window of St Martin in the Fields.</i></div>
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<i>The Tower of London.</i></div>
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<i>St Pauls</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD_KPgHZi3tFLRvPLj5etEtbb4K19zxXuKuY6twwkVzHwMDkysxaAxySBa-YyEJq52bXFe7nHEvUIeYC_ZKAS7Vc3qSZPq-DiLCMpKrHeqXLR8_83_7hWBAZMXUNxyBhRK5mG85DFzGT4/s1600/1150490.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD_KPgHZi3tFLRvPLj5etEtbb4K19zxXuKuY6twwkVzHwMDkysxaAxySBa-YyEJq52bXFe7nHEvUIeYC_ZKAS7Vc3qSZPq-DiLCMpKrHeqXLR8_83_7hWBAZMXUNxyBhRK5mG85DFzGT4/s640/1150490.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Westminster and its clock tower with the Bell known as "</i><i>Big Ben"</i></div>
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<i>The building is known as The Shard.</i></div>
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<i>I really like some of the new buildings and their innovative shapes.</i></div>
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<i>The new and the old stand side by side. The Shard, on the opposite bank, is reflected in the building.</i></div>
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<i>I stayed on the fifteenth floor of a University of Westminster Halls of residence. This was the view from my bedroom window! </i><br />
London has meant that I have been able to catch up with friends old and new. This was a real treat as I battled the crowds here. I think it was as well that I spent so much time in Santiago before heading to London, otherwise I would be reeling even more from the onslaught of the crowds - wall to wall people is a good description.<br />
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<i>It was fitting that on my last day in London I visited St James Church, in Spanish Place.</i></div>
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<i>The interior of the church.......</i></div>
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<i>....... and one of the shells inside.</i></div>
<br />
I caught up with my friend Charlotte who I met in Orkney so long ago it seems, and who, like me lives in Stirling though it just so happens they are in different countries! She was down for her daughters wedding, and only an hours train ride away. It was good to see her. Then one evening I had a celebratory dinner with Adam, a new Camino friend who can talk "Camino" as much as me, if not more! I met him in Santiago, post conference, and when I say we met up at my favourite bar in Santiago before midday, and left the bar at about 6.30 you will have some idea of how we can both talk "Camino!"<br />
<br />
It seems strange to be heading home after such a long time away, and it will probably be even stranger settling into normal life. This has been an amazing adventure. I have met so many wonderful people, and I have been helped and encouraged by people I have met along the way. But you folk reading this have helped and encouraged me on this journey too. Your comments on my blog, your emails, the visits from some of you, and in some cases your chats - via Skype, have cheered and supported me no end. Thank you.<br />
<br />
This is the last post for this blog, though I may correct some of the typos and spelling errors at some point. I'm sure it won't be the last Camino blog, as my feet have still got some miles in them, but maybe not so many at one time. When the Camino calls I will let you know the new blog title.<br />
<br />
Thank you all for your words of support. With affection, I'm signing off, blessings, Janet.<br />
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-59201824224479255742015-06-11T03:05:00.001-07:002015-06-11T03:05:11.220-07:00Jubilation!I am still in München, waiting to board my flight to London, but I just have to tell you that my plan, thus far has worked! I have cleared customs - yippee.<br />
<br />
I had my letter stating the details of the 1952 bi-lateral trade agreement between Germany and Australia allowing Australians to stay an additional 90 days in Germany. At the customs / police checkpoint there were some questions asked, a VERY careful reading of the letter, more questions, another read of the letter, and my passport was stamped!<br />
<br />
I arrived in Germany on the 29th January, leaving for Holland about the 14th February, and spent less than 90 days in the rest of the Schengen so I was quite legal. My concern was that the authorities might not think so, and my policeman was heading that way till I produced my letter! As I said, I haven't left the country yet, but I'm over the worst.<br />
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<i>Relief at the airport!</i></div>
Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-670736597268808472015-06-10T23:50:00.000-07:002015-06-10T23:50:01.395-07:00Some random facts on this journey.I haven't had much chance to compose a list in the past few weeks, with catching up with people, and also the conference, but I thought you might like a couple of facts from the year of walking, in no particular order:-<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I left home on the 18th June, and will return on the 17th June.</li>
<li>I calculate that I have walked about 5,500kms, probably more. The "End to End" in the UK was in excess of 2,200 alone.</li>
<li>I had to buy a new pack half through the UK as the other one had worn out.</li>
<li>After 6 months I had to buy a new shoulder bag in which I carry my camera, tablet, wallet etc, as the Pacsafe one had wires protruding and was scratching me, the stitching had worn, and the zip had broken!</li>
<li>I am on my 4th pair of boots, with probably about 800 kms left in them!. </li>
<li>I began with two sets of summer socks, exchanged for two sets of winter ones in October, the latter ones still in use and only just lasting the distance.</li>
<li>All my underclothes have been replaced and the old ones have gone into the bin!</li>
<li>My first raincoat leaked and so had to be replaced.</li>
<li>Physios treated injuries about 8 times on the way to Rome, and about 10 times from Leipzig to Santiago. Interestingly in the UK I never had to see a physio, though I did see a doctor about an eye problem who then referred me to the optician.</li>
<li>My sister in law, Joan, walked with me for the first week, my friend Julie for four weeks in Italy, my friend Charlotte for a couple of days in the UK, my niece Greta for a week on St Cuthbert's Way (UK) and lastly my son Emrys for two weeks in Germany. Otherwise I walked alone.</li>
<li>I have walked in:- Germany, Austria, Italy, Holland, Belgium, France, Spain, and of course the UK.</li>
<li>I posted guides books and maps home as I finished with them - the cheapest post being in the UK where I was able to send it surface mail, everywhere else had only one rate - expensive!.</li>
<li>Emrys couriered my winter gear to me and I posted the summer gear home. Posting the winter gear (thick jackets, trousers etc) home I just continued in the same walking gear as the temperatures have yet to get to temperatures high enough to make my trousers and shirt uncomfortable to walk in.</li>
<li>I bought some long trousers (as opposed to ¾ Capri pants) in Inverness in September, and have worn them, with the exception of the occasional rest day, every day since! (and I'm very sick of them!)</li>
<li>I was warned about the risk of travelling without a flu vaccination as the flu season had begun when I left, and listening to the ABC I will return in the flu season. I didn't have the vaccine and didn't get the flu and have avoided colds thus far.</li>
<li>I avoid making comparisons and saying what was my favourite thing, but there are definitely a couple of things that stand out for various reasons:- the Opera in Verona, "walking the poles" across the sands to Lindisfarne in the dawn light, walking in the snow near Leipzig, and arriving in Assisi, Rome and Santiago.</li>
<li>In the summer season I carried around 8 - 9 kgs and in the winter around 12 - 13 kgs. This depended on how much food and papers I was carrying at the time.</li>
<li>I always bought meals at cafes, restaurants etc, but also carried a little bit of food for emergencies. Muesli bars (some better than others!) were my staple emergency food. I work on the principle of a meal of muesli bars won't kill me for one night if I have to resort to that, which I did a couple of times as no food was available where I was.</li>
</ul>
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I'm off to London now, and will spend four days there, before heading home. </div>
<br />Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-36963407478322383502015-06-10T01:14:00.002-07:002015-06-10T01:14:49.046-07:00Santiago de CompistelaI have had a real treat since arriving in Santiago. I have had time to just meander about the place, catch up with friends, make new friends, but I have also been very busy. I was a little vague earlier on what I was to be doing here so will fill you in.<br />
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On the 4th - 6th June the Galician government hosted a conference to which all the "amigos" or "friends" associations were invited. I accepted the invite and arranged to walk to the conference, while Kevin came over from Adelaide, bringing some respectable clothes for me and a hard copy of the speech I had prepared and Emrys had printed in a large font! The conference was very interesting, giving us all a chance to share and hear about what other groups were doing.<br />
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<i>I, along with many of the conference delegates stayed here, hospideria San Martin Pinario, a former monastery.</i><br />
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<i>There were cocktails in the cloisters of the Hotel San Martin Pinario. Bite sizes pieces of empanada (a Galician savoury slice) and Tortilla espanola (omelette with potato in it) were on the menu. </i><br />
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I had prepared a 10 minute speech according to the brief I was given and each speaker was simultaneously translated into French, Spanish, German, and English, depending on the language of that speaker. There were approximately 300 in the audience, though throughout each session this was fluid as the locals thought nothing of getting up and wandering out (perhaps for a smoke, or chat) and then meandering back in, clambering over all and sundry to get back to their seat, with phones regularly ringing throughout speeches. <br />
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<i>Presenting my speech about the challenges and trends facing The Australian Friends of the Camino.</i><br />
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It was really good to meet our colleagues from around the world and a special treat for me to catch up with my friend Austin, the very first Pilgrim I met on my first pilgrimage in 2005 on the second day out of Toulouse, where by chance we had both started. We were both lost, we separated to find our own way, only to meet the next morning and walked together for almost two weeks. Austin speaks fluent French so he was my translator, but I saved him many times from heading down the wrong path!<br />
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<i>Ready for the final conference dinner - at the Parador.</i><br />
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<i>At dinner, which was more like a cocktail party, with more empanada and tortilla, there was traditional music.</i><br />
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<i>One of the things we did at the conference was to attend a memorial ceremony at a former pilgrim cemetery. We each placed a yellow flower in a "wreath".</i><br />
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<i>On the way back from the ceremony we passed a wedding. This is the container holding the rose petals to throw.</i><br />
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<i>St James. This is where pilgrims go and hug the Saint</i><br />
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On Sunday, before going to dinner I, and a couple of friends, watched the Corpus Christie procession. The streets were decorated, and everyone was out in their best clothes. It was actually one of the few warm nights I have experienced this year.<br />
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Sue, from Adelaide, had arrived a few days earlier and we had spent some time together and after dinner I took her to hear what I think is one of the little treats of Santiago. This is the men from a group called Tunas Compostellanas. In the summer they perform, from what I can gather, on most evenings in the arcade opposite the cathedral. They are real entertainers, singing, cracking jokes, involving the audience with clapping and dancing and of course, selling their CD's. My friend Nicole was reluctant to go as they don't start performing till 10pm, but I persuaded her, and she loved them so much she bought a CD! <br />
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There are now a couple of new services for pilgrims in Santiago. There is now a mass held each morning in English and as I walked past on my last morning in Santiago I noticed it was standing room only in the small chapel where it is held. Father Joe, who leads the mass, is a retired priest from Cork with a wonderful warmth and sense of humour, telling pilgrims that in this mass there was to be none of the usual standing or kneeling as it creates a racket, and that was the last thing needed! An offshoot of the Camino Chaplaincy as this is called has a house where pilgrims can go and meet, have a coffee and print boarding passes etc. I used the pilgrim house to print off my tickets and the papers I needed for the journey home. <br />
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<i>The Corpus Christie procession above, and below flowers and a shawl hanging at the entrance to a shop as decoration.</i><br />
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<i>The group Tunas Compostellanas entertaining the crowd after dinner. </i></div>
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<i>Departure time, Nicole and I waiting for a taxi to the airport. My pack is huge as it has over double what I arrived with because I have purchased non Camino clothes (can't do the jump, but "oh what a feeling!"), and I have many papers from the conference. It weighed 19.8kgs on the scales at the airport! Fortunately I only had a kilometre or so to walk to my hotel in Munich.</i></div>
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I left Santiago yesterday heading towards home. I have two nights in Munich, visiting with friends, and then four nights in London. I was nervous about leaving Spain as I have been four months here in the Schengen, but saw no one from customs. There was no need for them as the flight (via Madrid) was from one Schengen country to another. The test will be tomorrow, when I actually leave the Schengen for the UK, but I have my letter from the German embassy in Canberra telling anyone who might query me that we have a long forgotten bi-lateral trade agreement from 1952 which allows me to spend an extra 90 days in Germany, over and above what I spent in the Schengen. I only spent about 80 days in the other part of the Schengen, so I'm hoping I won't have to answer any questions. I didn't get my Australian passport stamped, but I do have dated stamps in my tatty looking Pilgrim credential.</div>
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I have made a few notes on the past year that you might be interested in. I will post that shortly. </div>
Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-74555683694222084032015-05-29T14:32:00.001-07:002015-05-29T14:32:43.055-07:00Made it! Santiago de Compostela<div style="text-align: center;">
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In 2005, after completing my first Camino I stood in the vast square called Praza do Obradoiro at sunrise and said, softly, words to the affect of: "Goodbye Santiago. This has been an extraordinary journey and adventure, and this is the last time I'll stand here". How wrong I was!</div>
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Today I stood in that square again, for a fifth visit, and stared at that mighty Cathedral, this time swathed in scaffolding. On my last visit it was winter time. The square was almost empty each time I passed through it, with only the brave rushing across, dressed in thick jackets and armed with umbrellas. The arrival of each pilgrim was conspicuous, primarily because we were so few. Today is a different story altogether. The square, by comparison, has been teeming with people, tourists and pilgrims, and the pilgrims have become just part of the crowd there are so many of them. That said, I arrived early in the morning and for a brief time it was only we pilgrims out and about, but that didn't take long to change. </div>
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I went straight to the pilgrim office to collect my Compostela. The queue was very short, maybe just over half a dozen pilgrims. Again this was very different to last time, and unrecognizable to the first time in 2005. When I visited the pilgrim office in 2005 it was upstairs in a building, and apparently, when queues did form during the busy times they queued up the stairs. When I went there in January 2014 we were so few that there was no waiting going straight to the desk, out of the cold, and having a leisurely chat to the person issuing the Compostela. </div>
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Today I could have been mistaken for thinking I was at the Correos (post office). We queued up outside in an orderly fashion and each time a person had been attended to a bell rang, a sign flashed telling which person to go to, and the line moved forward. I was glad that attention had been paid to the sound quality of the bell, rather than the dreadful sound that rings at the Correos. Things were very different a few hours later though when I went past the pilgrim office with the queue stretching out along the street. In peak times, and peak season, this gets even longer.</div>
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<i>Not only did I get the Compostela, but also asked for a certificate of distance. When they asked me how far I had come they didn't believe me, but I assured them that I had come a round about way, been on the road for eleven and half months, and that my best estimate was about 5,500kms. They duly wrote that down on the certificate!</i></div>
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<i>The queue when I arrived.........</i></div>
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<i>.......... and a few hours later.</i></div>
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<i>I went to the pilgrim Mass at midday where the botefumeiro was swung. I also saw it swung at the 7.30 Mass later in the day.</i><br />
<i>Some facts:- it swings in a 65 metre arc, reaches heights of 25 meters, the ropes last about 20 years, it swings from a pulley system mounted in the roof, is about 1.6 meters tall and weighs around 80 kgs.</i><br />
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<i>Pilgrims and tourists revelling in the sunshine - except for me - I stayed in the shade!</i></div>
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<i>My first view of the Cathedral was the back of it, bathed in morning sunshine. A different story to the front (below) where scaffolding hides it.</i></div>
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<i>The road from Sobrado dos Monxes was long and tedious, bitumen road, hard on the feet, and the sun beating down. On the way I passed this farm implement, obviously left at the side of the field to be used again. In so many respects it seems time has stood still in this neck of the woods.</i></div>
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<i>There were some good views though, on what was a tedious day.</i><br />
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My last full day of walking finished at Monte do Goza. This is where, in medieval times, pilgrims would sing for joy at the sight of the Cathedral in the distance - their destination. At Monte do Goza there are a couple of monuments, one of which I have never been able to find until this visit. It is a lovely statue of two pilgrims looking at the cathedral in the distance. They would have seen it much more clearly - on this afternoon I could only just make out the cathedral through the haze and smog.</div>
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<i>This monument was to mark the visit of the Pope in 1993 - the reason the huge complex at Monte do Goza was built - to house the hoards visiting at that time.</i></div>
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<i>This is the statue that has taken me five visits to find! It was equally hazy in the morning when I left and so I got no better photos of the view they are looking at.</i></div>
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<i>Reaching the Camino Frances the crowds swelled! I was one of the last to leave and so I was only passed by those who had come from places further away. Even so, after regular and leisurely stops for coffee and food there were still plenty of pilgrims!</i></div>
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<i>But just occasionally I was in a pilgrim free zone, with the only sounds being the birds singing and my footsteps.</i><br />
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<i> </i>I am in Santiago for 11 more nights. Over the next couple of days, among other things, time will be devoted to chores such as washing clothes and cleaning my gear. I am also going shopping - for clothes! I am so looking forward to wearing some different clothes! In amongst all of this I am going to rest as I feel quite tired. I am staying in Santiago for so long for a reason, but sleep calls, and so I will tell you more of that in the next post.<i><br /></i></div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-65907135375591424832015-05-27T13:45:00.000-07:002015-05-27T13:45:45.947-07:00Sobrado dos MonxesLast night I stayed in a Cistercian Monastery. I'm glad it wasn't winter because I think it may well be a very cold place. The Cistercian monks live a very simple, austere life, spent in silence and separation from the rest of the world. As they say in the guide they "share the frúts of their work by offering shelter and hospitality", from which we pilgrims benefit, with 110 beds available for pilgrims at the end of a fairly long day. <br />
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The monastery was built in 1147, becoming a Cistercian Monastery in 1498. A Royal decree dissolved Monastic Orders in 1834, with the end result being that the Monastery was abandoned and was almost destroyed, but in 1954 a restoration programme began, and a community of monks have resided there since 1966. I was quite amused with the silence rule as I was greeted by a monk called Santiago (he was born on July 25th, St James Day), who talked non stop firing questions at me and chatting, mainly in Spanish, but every so often in English. He was far from silent, revelling in imparting his knowledge of the Monastery, and showing me where things were for me to access.<br />
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I later did a self guided tour of the monastery, and there is not a single bit of gilt or fancy frescoes, just simple stone carvings for decoration with the only color being green and black, caused by the mould and dampness throughout. I'll let the pictures tell the tale.<br />
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<i>Part of he pilgrim quarters in the monastery.</i></div>
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Walking into Sobrado there was a real surprise. After trudging down hill along the road, the path diverted through a roadside forest and rounding a corner, a beautiful lake came into view. Approaching it, there was an extremely loud frog chorus. One pilgrim said to me later that they must have a problem because "its not normal to have so many frogs". I told him of Mike Tyler, our Adelaide frog expert, who often says that frogs mean that the water is clean. If that's so, this water is super clean!</div>
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<i>The lake on the outskirts of Sobrado dos Monxes, complete with water lilies.</i></div>
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On the way out of Miraz the path went up hill, but so gradually that it was often only when looking back that it showed the slope. At one stage it went over rocks, so large that it was as if I was walking on a road.<br />
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<i>Not ashphalt, but rock.</i></div>
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Before going to Sobrado I spent the night at the English Confraternity of St James albergue in the small village of Miraz. Here there are around 22 beds in the renovated and extended former priest's home. The hospitaleros work for two week shifts and our hosts were Rick, from Florida, and Liz, from England. I went up the road to the taberna with Rick and was fortunate to see a herd of goats being moved, a sight seen several times a day. After dinner Liz opened the church for those initerested in seeing it. A delightful church, with a lovely acoustic, which I know because I had a sing!</div>
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<i>The albergue at Miraz.</i></div>
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<i>The goats being moved at Miraz.</i></div>
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<i>Inside the church at Miraz, and below, a close up of the retablo. </i></div>
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<i>Rick showed me several inscriptions on tombs in the cemetery. They had the man's name followed by "y esposa" (and wife) - poor thing, she didn't warrant having her name there too! </i></div>
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Not only was the albergue at Miraz a treat, but so was the walk there. It was a little shorter than previous days, and I could take my time and still arrive earlier than usual.</div>
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<i>A wayside cross not far from Baamonde.</i></div>
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<i>A shed like building on the way.</i></div>
Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-20687624596447723882015-05-24T23:46:00.001-07:002015-05-24T23:46:34.339-07:00The beginning of the end!I am sitting in the huge, semi dark, upstairs dormitory of the refuge in Baamonde. The sun has yet to rise, though it is now half light outside. People are starting to stir, quietly, for a change and I would imagine that very soon the place will be buzzing. Downstairs a few people have gathered for breakfast, but I will go to the bar a few doors down for mine. Downstairs is where most people are sleeping - it is only the overflow and the latecomers, like me, who are upstairs. <br />
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Downstairs are two French women, two Swiss men, an American, and two Germans all walkers, along with a solitary Spanish cyclist, while upstairs I have shared the room with an older German man and a Czech couple. I feel very sorry for the Czech woman as she has very bad tendonitis. How do I know? I can tell by the way she hobbles, because I have hobbled in exactly the same way! I would like to be able to help her with some of the tips I have learned, but unfortunately I am not able to communicate with her at all, and from what I can gather neither can anyone else, which is unfortunate.<br />
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<i>The albergue at Baamonde.</i></div>
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<i>The first stop of the day! Cafe con leche and whatever is on offer for breakfast! </i></div>
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Yesterday was a glorious day, walking past farms and through woodlands. All along this part of Galicia the settlements are more spread out. On the Meseta the farmhouses are gathered together in villages of varying sizes and then in Galicia further inland they are in little hamlets - perhaps three or four farm, with all there associated buildings, whereas where I have been traveling the buildings are spread over the countryside. The people haven't changed though. The older women have a distinctive shape to them. The Galicians I see seem short to me, and the women are bent, perhaps from working in the fields. The scarecrows in the paddocks look realistic because many are topped with a head scarf, making them look like a woman working in the fields.<br />
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There is a sense of excitement in the air, because this is the start of the last 100 kms. This is the destination, and in most cases the end, of a journey of varying lengths. Mine is a bit longer than most! I have a couple of very long days ahead and so will be nursing my feet very carefully as they are getting sore, and probably, if I'm honest, tired! This is a quick post as I doubt that I'll have internet for a few days.<br />
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<i>Leaving Vilalba I passed this interesting wall.</i></div>
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<i>The "mowers" have been out.</i></div>
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<i>A renovators delight.</i></div>
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<i>The path goes in between farm buildings, these few deserted.</i></div>
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<i>A well at a farm I was passing.</i></div>
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<i>An interesting little bridge to cross - no trolls!</i></div>
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<i>It was under this monstrosity - not over!</i></div>
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<i>Another cemetery. This type is described as being "somewhere between Gothic and Gaudian" in my guide!</i></div>
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<i>I love these slate fences that line the fields here in Galicia.</i></div>
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<i>Baamonde Iglesia.</i></div>
Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-53738229824095363152015-05-23T23:21:00.002-07:002015-05-23T23:21:36.171-07:00Farewell Asturias, hello GaliciaI'm now out of Asturias and well and truly into Galicia. I do like Asturias: its mountains, the way it oozes water, its square Horreos, and its quirkiness, so different to home. One day while walking on the outskirts of a village I saw a couple unloading a car, or the man was, while the woman was placing the boxes of plants in the vege patch. She was wearing clogs on her shoes which, which with their peg like stilts, kept her feet above the dirt.<br />
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The quirkiness even goes to the shell waymarks, which in this region are back to front to everywhere else in Spain. In Asturias we follow the closed part of the shell, but as soon as I crossed the bridge into Galicia the shells were inverted and now the open part of the shell points the way.<br />
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Galicia too has its individuality. This is the land of small farming. This is where farmers get out with a scythe to cut the grass, or go up market with a little petrol driven three wheeled "mower". The tractors are many and varied, out in force at this time of the year, working in the fields like busy insects. There are no air conditioned cabs in these tractors. In the fields you can see the farmers and their wives forking the grass onto large trailers with forks. As I've walked along the lanes these trailers have slowly passed me, either heading to the fields or back home. One evening I was passed by a man and his wife returning home. He was pushing a wheelbarrow loaded high with cut grass, while she, dressed in her " pinnie", carried the long fork. It is a common sight in the afternoon to see a woman, always wearing her "pinnie" and a head scarf, bent over working in the vege garden. They are oblivious to people like me walking past, intent on their work.<br />
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<i>La Caridad.</i></div>
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Prior to the building of the bridge across the Rio Eo at the border of Asturias and Galicia, pilgrims of old had to walk upstream to the village of Castello and cross there. Now though, it is easy to cross, and of course shorter!<br />
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<i>The bridge at Ribedeo, with part of the marina.</i></div>
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<i>The marina at Ribadeo.</i></div>
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<i>An upmarket hórreo.</i></div>
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<i>Looking down on the village of Ponte de Arante, before going up.</i></div>
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<i>Descending into Vilamartin Pequeno.</i></div>
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<i>St James on the exterior of the church at Lourenzá</i></div>
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<i>Making sure we know which way to go leaving Lourenza.</i></div>
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<i>This was a hard day. The path goes over the hills in the distance on the left.</i></div>
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<i>Here the path goes under the hórreo between the houses.</i></div>
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<i>Here it goes beside, and under the farm buildings.</i></div>
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<i>Looking down on Mondoñedo.</i></div>
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<i>The path fortunately stayed on the opposite side of the valley to the highway, though at the top of the hill, we went under it.</i></div>
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<i>The bells at the Iglesia at Goiriz......</i></div>
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<i>...... and the cemetery behind.</i></div>
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<i>The path after Goiritz. Note the slate fence.</i></div>
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<i>The tower at Vilalba, now a Parador hotel.</i></div>
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<i>The church at Vilalba.</i> </div>
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This is a very quick post as I'm not sure when I will get WiFi again. I have quite a few long days ahead, but there is only a 120kms left to go. Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-88828177451130176202015-05-19T14:10:00.001-07:002015-05-19T14:10:28.967-07:00Camino Del Norte in AsturiasThere is a definite smell in the air. Although I am still about 20 kms from Galicia I have been walking with a "Galician" smell for the last couple of days. Those of you who have walked through Galicia will know to what I refer - silage, hay, and cows! The roads though have been free of cow muck thus far, and I have yet to see a slurry tanker.<br />
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Walking in Asturias hasn't all been smelly though. If it weren't for the architecture, language, and food I could almost be mistaken for being in the Adelaide hills, with the flowering shrubs in the gardens, helped by the milder weather in this part of Spain. I always associate the eucalyptus with Galicia in Spain, but they are, sadly, just as prolific in this part of Asturias. Combine the trees with the azaleas, rhododendrons, camelias, ti-tree, and callistemons and those of you who know the hills will know why I think that.<br />
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The other thing that has surprised me is the citrus trees in gardens. In the village of Cadevado almost every garden had a lemon tree in it.<br />
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I caught the train to Aviles and crossing the road at the station I saw a man frantically waving. I ignored him as I assumed he was trying to attract the attention of someone behind me and I didn't recognize him. He recognized me though, as a pilgrim and it was me he was waving at. He wanted to point me in the right direction, gave me a yellow arrow brooch, and sent me on my way. Stopping at an intersection a bit further along a young woman stopped to point me on the way, and then another lady stopped and directed me further along still. I knew where I was going, but they were obviously all doubtful!<br />
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I'm collecting yellow arrows as another man gave me one, a bit bigger, a few days later, and this morning a man gave me a photograph of the village so that I would remember it.<br />
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<i>The first church I saw in Aviles, one of four that I saw.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yyz_RNgmf_-e0-_J1qZD40og7xhHPxJ4ZaHgSZ1gjvGe_gXIjPUlkxfF20Kkm0FrQrO10j7tLK0jdybGoCwb5HG5sOIM8BBzcm9DPcRyn6rnROkTlpeqBGO5xgm6H7Zy3Btz39tOD-1U/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yyz_RNgmf_-e0-_J1qZD40og7xhHPxJ4ZaHgSZ1gjvGe_gXIjPUlkxfF20Kkm0FrQrO10j7tLK0jdybGoCwb5HG5sOIM8BBzcm9DPcRyn6rnROkTlpeqBGO5xgm6H7Zy3Btz39tOD-1U/s640/image.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>These folk, clicked from a distance, were still sitting here an hour later when I came back to the square.</i></div>
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<i>The clock tower on the "Town Hall" in Aviles.</i></div>
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<i>A street in Aviles</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4riCXP_0qEZKNIVYOLNzr3wctjG9bGshKhS9VhwvSDNZEsNx_wgZNNd4w3PEfuKSTuRSW2yYNBGPLx5WPwK7ixiuTkBQuuuO0QRstm-li-b-JeHuYnza-OyIc2JkEYFqjI1CfwpVAKcxw/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4riCXP_0qEZKNIVYOLNzr3wctjG9bGshKhS9VhwvSDNZEsNx_wgZNNd4w3PEfuKSTuRSW2yYNBGPLx5WPwK7ixiuTkBQuuuO0QRstm-li-b-JeHuYnza-OyIc2JkEYFqjI1CfwpVAKcxw/s640/image.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>The Padres Franciscanos Church. The remains of the seaman Pedro Menedéz are in this church. He founded the first town in the US - San Agustin de la Florida.</i></div>
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<i>My first view of the coast after leaving Aviles - Salinas.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3i7mSqtawXdW-gzwI_Wgv1a5Jsq5JMMgIGCm2OLWXFkrNn1JtcUXXoCc9C2Gnjrn5yscuVeCs_r97jj24F3gnntoaLTNO8lpjsvxnHtNSYwb9DewXBSG92wZq5kt5NBCE-v3MWoKo3-7/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3i7mSqtawXdW-gzwI_Wgv1a5Jsq5JMMgIGCm2OLWXFkrNn1JtcUXXoCc9C2Gnjrn5yscuVeCs_r97jj24F3gnntoaLTNO8lpjsvxnHtNSYwb9DewXBSG92wZq5kt5NBCE-v3MWoKo3-7/s400/image.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3i7mSqtawXdW-gzwI_Wgv1a5Jsq5JMMgIGCm2OLWXFkrNn1JtcUXXoCc9C2Gnjrn5yscuVeCs_r97jj24F3gnntoaLTNO8lpjsvxnHtNSYwb9DewXBSG92wZq5kt5NBCE-v3MWoKo3-7/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3i7mSqtawXdW-gzwI_Wgv1a5Jsq5JMMgIGCm2OLWXFkrNn1JtcUXXoCc9C2Gnjrn5yscuVeCs_r97jj24F3gnntoaLTNO8lpjsvxnHtNSYwb9DewXBSG92wZq5kt5NBCE-v3MWoKo3-7/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3i7mSqtawXdW-gzwI_Wgv1a5Jsq5JMMgIGCm2OLWXFkrNn1JtcUXXoCc9C2Gnjrn5yscuVeCs_r97jj24F3gnntoaLTNO8lpjsvxnHtNSYwb9DewXBSG92wZq5kt5NBCE-v3MWoKo3-7/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
Election time in Spain is interesting. Many of the villages have a special board at the entrance, or in prominent places where all candidates display their election posters. The other thing that happens is audio advertising. This takes the form of vehicles with posters of the candidate on them and a couple of loudspeakers on the top. This vehicle then drives slowly around the towns and villages blaring what I can only assume are "vote for me" messages. These vehicle's are even in quite remote rural areas - not sure who listens to them other than the pilgrims walking along.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7yrmPz12eb2paVM6AOVsQFYfVNb2PuErKw4MR-tMsg42zBNCg_IC6WubdNltMt3MF_7eDNmPNamm4smBmAR0gRZTIK_P4kZ3Q-vX9RxgAlfA2ucQfReDKB0CAP2DUiRFZn7FH1TkbnnVQ/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7yrmPz12eb2paVM6AOVsQFYfVNb2PuErKw4MR-tMsg42zBNCg_IC6WubdNltMt3MF_7eDNmPNamm4smBmAR0gRZTIK_P4kZ3Q-vX9RxgAlfA2ucQfReDKB0CAP2DUiRFZn7FH1TkbnnVQ/s640/image.jpg" width="426" /></a><br />
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<i>I wonder if people know how big these fellows grow?</i></div>
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<i>An Asturian Hórreo at Cadevado.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FHP9QkoYFWAu3NyFFGO_r6J1rAq9UGJb1sO65Jy_lieRgkndakjZq83iVZTFxYdwqiPN6pJn-F3ZxWDgFmGhQbyH8HRAwOkOW3yPSYC1ZyGqBj3xa69NoBq8zGQeebP2kXrkz32-rdAK/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FHP9QkoYFWAu3NyFFGO_r6J1rAq9UGJb1sO65Jy_lieRgkndakjZq83iVZTFxYdwqiPN6pJn-F3ZxWDgFmGhQbyH8HRAwOkOW3yPSYC1ZyGqBj3xa69NoBq8zGQeebP2kXrkz32-rdAK/s640/image.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>The distinctive old buildings, including an horreó.</i></div>
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The path for the first few days was pretty tough. Basically it followed a very windy road that snaked its way around the contours of the hills, but would take a short cut between each bend, which meant going down hill to, and across, the creek, often through muddy sections, and then steeply uphill to the road again. Once through the village the downhill, cross the creek, then uphill was repeated. It never went very high, maybe only a 150 meters or so, but from 20 meters low point this was an effort each time.</div>
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<i>This creek flowed into the sea (below).</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8DD3qbvDcDOE7UdonSFTZXAVLHReI4iJUFQ2Wrug_vuuwIbibuMvGUfVePGUbIjJAmW1C2edVpMerrvVdVxmMhY0ximDzcK3BxWtJN8m5IgRh4c6R78weNBHN894U4p7mfZCWW-WgpARY/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8DD3qbvDcDOE7UdonSFTZXAVLHReI4iJUFQ2Wrug_vuuwIbibuMvGUfVePGUbIjJAmW1C2edVpMerrvVdVxmMhY0ximDzcK3BxWtJN8m5IgRh4c6R78weNBHN894U4p7mfZCWW-WgpARY/s640/image.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjNwAg4stAAQTJsT-tYzk4XYgsAVxJEtTlwi8F4FmFK6mlDHIPalQSsHiT_M3Grnc2jueBpRuwAef074Fs8eFYL_ZIr2Qdx6ulP2Cx9F_1I_gt8ZU7IEm9eFoqLoABZgoh7iUAlPJK9AC/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjNwAg4stAAQTJsT-tYzk4XYgsAVxJEtTlwi8F4FmFK6mlDHIPalQSsHiT_M3Grnc2jueBpRuwAef074Fs8eFYL_ZIr2Qdx6ulP2Cx9F_1I_gt8ZU7IEm9eFoqLoABZgoh7iUAlPJK9AC/s640/image.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>The view from the path. </i></div>
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<i>I was very relieved to see the path had been slashed over the past few days. Reports had been that it was very overgrown.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ07cEX_cQKfxUL-ud-Vu4M99uURTAh6RA1UX2juWPVG_OAq-lTEJ09rgW0w4kl7i7trW-nzRn5rOHeVymKtHFE2S3OUgizobmiaQTYDQXfqz5ILMfhxfw1-vZolZHF0LaSK9esEnJZM3a/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ07cEX_cQKfxUL-ud-Vu4M99uURTAh6RA1UX2juWPVG_OAq-lTEJ09rgW0w4kl7i7trW-nzRn5rOHeVymKtHFE2S3OUgizobmiaQTYDQXfqz5ILMfhxfw1-vZolZHF0LaSK9esEnJZM3a/s640/image.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Cadevado beach (above) and the little Ermita on a headland on the outskirts of the village (below).</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMCdO4-y2MWR0iFDiZmGXVY7dXJkMFGw3KIdrcyQD6OryH5QJbNZaVe3hooQTdTYRT6mcE6GUvWqQOwMpe3lUjlw6enq_gwCkiOADJcA6aDRQEEBFlc8MpNr2ChyfoRzVnODkA_hFWzzK/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMCdO4-y2MWR0iFDiZmGXVY7dXJkMFGw3KIdrcyQD6OryH5QJbNZaVe3hooQTdTYRT6mcE6GUvWqQOwMpe3lUjlw6enq_gwCkiOADJcA6aDRQEEBFlc8MpNr2ChyfoRzVnODkA_hFWzzK/s640/image.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Another horreó. There is a plan afoot to make these protected.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiQV6JV94f2X5YlpRJFK4__tHc8bwC3oMoZawiGfrjyDtGDNDAoNXpBXwxlH92aKZsmQskro5FkCKPhssa7fwdwnzLXq83pBHiFw-tetSCt7SMfJVm3mMe63vSufU4cEsEDAikOX51j89/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiQV6JV94f2X5YlpRJFK4__tHc8bwC3oMoZawiGfrjyDtGDNDAoNXpBXwxlH92aKZsmQskro5FkCKPhssa7fwdwnzLXq83pBHiFw-tetSCt7SMfJVm3mMe63vSufU4cEsEDAikOX51j89/s640/image.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i>What will they think of the modern bridges in a 1,000 years I wonder. I stood on a bridge and took the road bridge, above, in one direction and an older rail viaduct, below, on the other side.</i></div>
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<i>On the way to Luarca I passed this little church. </i><br />
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<i><br /></i></div>
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Luarca is a very pretty fishing village where I spent a very pleasant time exploring. Also parted with €5 and got my washing done, washed and dried - worth every bit of that especially as I didn't have to sit and wait for it.</div>
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<i>Heading down into Luarca. I couldn't help thinking this would rival the Cornish village where the TV series Doc Martin is set.</i></div>
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<i>Luarca (above and below). The little Ermita at the top of the picture on the right is where the path went the next day.</i></div>
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<i>Another of those modern bridges after leaving Luarca.</i></div>
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<i>A church on the way to Navia.</i></div>
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<i>Navia (above & below)</i> ..........<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3n_yreQSAxKrc8gGUsmMJ06dKTgb7d9YIH8ZYEE0ASvMMEyBKVrC2upHRH6ilGd_hdtGIiaUbPyy_BkW4JHpDg4HJcyTELcmZADj9zJWsU20Yip_QuHKfE7ap8L2stiibfK_37teqmzd/s1600/1140689.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3n_yreQSAxKrc8gGUsmMJ06dKTgb7d9YIH8ZYEE0ASvMMEyBKVrC2upHRH6ilGd_hdtGIiaUbPyy_BkW4JHpDg4HJcyTELcmZADj9zJWsU20Yip_QuHKfE7ap8L2stiibfK_37teqmzd/s640/1140689.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<i>........... and just one example of a Callistemon.</i></div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-23647976975434671882015-05-14T13:57:00.002-07:002015-05-14T13:57:54.131-07:00Camino de San Salvador - Part 3<span style="font-size: large;">I thought the day I ascended the mountains from La Pola de Gordón was spectacular, but just check out the views below for the next day from Poladura de la Tercia, down to Pajeres (or Payares). It was long and hard going up the first two ascents, before the last gentler climb up to Pajeres, but it was, before that, the final descent that was the scariest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It took me about three hours to go down about five kilometers. I was part way down and realized that it was too hard to go back up and so there was nothing for it but to continue on. My poles were used continuously on this descent as I was very conscious of safety and tried hard not to think of the worst case scenario, which in my mind was not a pretty one! However, at snails pace, I eventually made it to the albergue where there was a warm welcome from the three other pilgrims and Marissa, the hospitalero. I found muscles in my arms and legs I didn't know I had, but the good company and lovely meal Marissa cooked for us made me soon forget my aches and pains.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Looking towards the start of the first climb.......</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>...... and back, leaving Poladura de la Tercia.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>This is the false top, there's still another kilometer to go to get there!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>I managed to avoid this patch of snow by walking around the bottom edge, ........</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>..... but carefully crossed this drift.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The view at the top was spectacular.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Nearly had wet feet crossing this stream!</i></span></div>
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<i>My friends by now we're far ahead, and so they missed seeing inside this beautiful Romanesque Church at Santa Maria de Arbas, which was open when I went past. I had a good sing, and got a sello in my credential.</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The final descent for the day - almost all the way down into this valley.........</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>...... and the VERY dodgy paths I used. One slip and it was a long way down!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Thankfully though the path eventually widened out into something easier to walk on. Though it doesn't look it here, it was still very steep.</i></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Marrisa, the hospitalero, saying "hasta luego".</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Heading off from Pajeres.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This day wasn't without adventure either. The day began by finishing the descent from the previous day into the valley below, followed by a comparatively comfortable climb up to the hillside village of Santa Marina. Here I had my next minor adventure, firstly taking a steep path uphill, before deciding I was wrong and retracing my steps. How I hate that - so much energy wasted! The next part of the way was 30 meters after the church (pictured below) where it went through a gate. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The only trouble was there was a very big dog (a pyrenean mountain dog, I think) lying on the other side, with a number of sheep behind. These dogs guard the sheep, and I had already been barked at a number of times walking past sheep so I was extremely reluctant to go through that gate. All my pilgrim friends had long since gone, and there wasn't a sign of anyone in the village. Eventually I saw a señora doing some light pruning. I gave chase and asked her the way. I mimed that I was nervous about "el perro" (which, I must admit, was wagging his tail!) and she tried to reassure me that he was fine. She didn't succeed, and eventually led me through that gate, across the field and through another one past a donkey, and the final one where she waved me on my way to the next village, Llanos de Samerón.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The church at Santa Marina, the gate just out of site on the right.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>In the village of Llanos de Somerón I had rest and refreshments under the tree, and watched the locals going about their business, including shopping at the fruit and vege van that arrived while I was there.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>On the Camino Frances many of the dilapidated buildings are being restored, something I have noticed since I first walked it in 2005. On this route though there are very many buildings in a sorry state, in many cases only fit for demolition I suspect.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The pre Romanesque church of Sta. Cristina de Lena was a delight inside and out. I was lucky enough to have it opened an hour early so I could see inside (and have a sing!). A peaceful spot with an amazing view in all directions - worth the steep climb up to it.</i></span><br />
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<i>The view looking back at Campomanes from the little church. Its down hill now to Mieres, followed by three uphills to Oviedo - the finish of the Camino de San Salvador.</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Mieres is in Asturias, famous for its cider - sidra. There are siderias everywhere and this statue in a square in Mieres shows how they pour the cider into the glasses.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Leaving Mieres and heading uphill, past colorful houses........</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>....... and passing the traditional Asturian storage places.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Olloniego - only two more hills to Oviedo!</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>It was market time in Oviedo.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>The view of the Cathedral San Salvador from my bedroom window in Oviedo. Below left - St James (left) chats to St John, and right - the cloisters at the Cathedral.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>San Salvador.</i></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>A street scene in Oviedo.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Today I collected my certificate from the Cathedral, posted it home, and have caught a train to Aviles where I'm picking up the Camino del Norte. I may have to find an alternative means of traveling for a few days as I have to be in Santiago by the first of June. More to come.</span></div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-44227620070588367662015-05-13T14:09:00.000-07:002015-05-13T14:09:18.622-07:00Camino de San Salvador - part 2What an amazing Camino this is. It is extraordinarily beautiful, taking pilgrims up and over the Asturian mountains. A month ago I would have been walking (or not) through deep snow, but then the sun melted the snow about a fortnight ago and now it is water, water everywhere. The little streams rush out of, and down, the hillsides, at times rushing down the path and at other times crossing it, sometimes necessitating careful footwork to stay dry.<br />
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<i>Leaving La Pola de Gordon in the early morning sunshine, and about to start a steady climb, up, up and up.</i><br />
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After the first 40kms or so following the river from Leon the path then heads up and through the mountains. Here it is necessary to stop often - sometimes to rest and catch ones breath, but just as often to admire the view. At this time of the year the slopes are decorated by blooming shrubs and flowers - heather, broom, orchids of different shades, and buttercups to name a few. Water made the path glisten, and the rocks stood stark against a brilliant blue sky.</div>
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The pictures can speak of the beauty I saw.</div>
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<i>The start of a long uphill slog.</i></div>
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<i>Looking back towards the village of Buiza.</i></div>
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<i>The water rushing down the path. I saw my second snake near here - the only ones I've seen in Spain on all my trips.</i></div>
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<i>At the top of the pass and about to descend.</i></div>
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<i>Here you can see the narrow footpath that followed the contour around the hillside.</i></div>
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As I came down the slope I could see someone walking towards me. He appeared to be working along the way, securing signs and so on. I took an educated guess that it was Ender, the man referred to in the english guide I was using. He was very surprised that I knew of him, an Australian, though not he had guessed I was an Aussie (people passing me earlier had obviously told him I was heading his way).<br />
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We parted - he heading fast up hill, stopping periodically to spray an arrow or adjust a sign, I, walking slowly towards the night's accommodation. <br />
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I stopped some distance further on for a rest and to admire the amazing view. Just as I was preparing to head off who should turn up but Ender. He handed me his little day pack and picked up mine and together we headed off. What a treat to have my pack carried, and have such a guide over the boggy patches. I had to chuckle carrying Ender's pack because it rattled as I walked. Even if I hadn't known who he was before, the rattling spray can was a give away - used for painting the yellow arrows on the rocks and such. Ender has been responsible for marking the path over the last few years, and he is now planning a better route around the mountain. We have a lot to thank him for - quite a remarkable man.<br />
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<i>My rest stop, and the superb view.</i></div>
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<i>Ender </i></div>
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<i>I'm standing by one of the signs that Ender has been responsible for.</i></div>
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As I headed up over the pass I was passed by a group of runners, a couple of Spanish day hikers, and then higher up, a pilgrim. While having lunch another couple of pilgrims passed me. These two, one from Italy and one from Portugal, had walked the Camino Assisi too. As it turned out these three pilgrims and I ended up in the same village that night, and shared a delicious meal together that evening.<br />
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<i>Four international pilgrims - a Frenchman, an Aussie, an Italian, and a Portuguese.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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The beauty of this path has meant that I still haven't shown you all of it. There are more mountains to come, along with lovely villages, in part three!</div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-37067313945129189362015-05-12T14:11:00.000-07:002015-05-12T14:11:15.823-07:00Camino de San Salvador - part 1.How good it is to be back on the road again! I decided to avoid pounding on asphalt and catch a bus out of Leon, but after trying, usuccessfully, for about 2 hours I changed my mind about starting and headed off to a hotel for another night, followed by the tourist office to find out EXACTLY where I was to wait for the bus, what it was called, and what time it went. Mind you, it wasn't hard to spend another day in my favorite Spanish city.<br />
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The next day I successfully caught the bus 8 kms to the edge of the suburbs and gingerly began walking. Gingerly, because this was my first day wearing a pack on for the whole day and I wasn't sure how my back would cope, or my feet, which had developed tendonitis.<br />
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The sun shone, the air was filled with perfume from wildflowers, the birds were singing, and the views were stunning. It was a real joy to be walking again! Even seeing a snake slithering off into the grass couldn't dampen my spirits.<br />
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<i>Leon Cathedral in the late afternoon sunshine.</i></div>
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<i>Though I caught the bus, I still started from San Marcos (the Parador Hotel), before heading on the path to the stop.</i></div>
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<i>This was the view, and the start of the serious walking on the Camino de San Salvador. The mountains in the distance (on the right) are where I'm headed.</i></div>
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<i>The broom and gauze along this stretch were spectacularly in bloom.</i></div>
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<i>Though the path began as a fairly wide bush track it narrowed to a footpath only within a few kilometers - though I met three cyclists just after taking this photo.</i></div>
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<i>Wildflowers and views were the order of the day.</i></div>
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<i>Sadly this adobe building has seen better days!</i><br />
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<i>Adobe buildings in the village of Cabanillas</i><br />
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<i>The day was quite hot and I was very glad to fill my water bottle at this fountain in Cabanillas.</i><br />
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The first night I was headed for the village of La Robla, where I planned to stay at the pilgrim albergue. The problem was that there was no hospitalero on site thus necessitating a phone call, difficult when I don't own a phone and even more difficult when I don't speak the language. Because I was walking slowly I was too late to ask for assistance at the tourist office, and so took the next best option of heading for the pharmacy! Usually someone in a pharmacy has a some English. Sure enough a staff member spoke a little, and so she translated to the boss who made a number of phone calls to find the hospitalero for me.</div>
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<i>The La Robla albergue.</i><br />
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<i>Leaving La Robla it was drizzly enough to have to wear a rain coat, but an hour down the road the sun started to shine.</i><br />
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<i>Ermita del Buen Suceso.</i><br />
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<i>Nocedo de Gordón nestled at the foot of the hills.</i><br />
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<i>A conveniently placed rock to have a rest on.</i><br />
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<i>The blackberries seem to me to have particularly vicious thorns!</i></div>
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I spent the second night in La Pola de Gordón. This was the last day of steady walking with minimal ascent. A day to savour the easy walking! These first few days the path basically followed the Rio Bernesga, the river that flows through Leon. It has been a delight seeing, and listening to, the river gurgle its way towards the city I'd left.</div>
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<i>Walking into La Pola de Gordon I passed this poor old building.</i></div>
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<i>Just park the tractor at the front door!</i></div>
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<i>The square in La Pola de Gordón</i></div>
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<i>Rio Bernesga bubbling through La Pola de Gordon.</i></div>
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This is just a touch of what I have seen on this extraordinary Camino. There's a lot more to come, but it will have to wait for the next post. From now on the path heads up into the mountains.</div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-35501208838575999492015-05-05T14:09:00.000-07:002015-05-05T14:09:28.501-07:00The time has come.......reluctantly leaving France.The other day, while walking to the train station in Tours I had a lightbulb moment! I was on the way to Chatellerault, where I had just booked a hotel for the night, when it struck me how silly I was being by going by train from one town to the next. I would far rather be walking, and all this train travel was doing was frustrating me. I made the decision that instead of fluffing around the next day going 20 kms down the road I would head straight for Spain. <br />
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Now I should pause here and explain a couple of things. A couple of months ago I accepted an invitation to attend the first Global Conference of the Friends of the Camino Associations. This is to be held early in June, and so my plan had always been that I would walk as far as I could in France before catching a train to Spain and walking the last part of the Camino del Norte, the only part of that Camino I haven't walked. I am disappointed that I have only walked about 30 kms out of Paris, and decided I would rather come back another time and walk it properly. Hence the decision to head for Spain. Before I get there though, some final things about France.<br />
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I had a couple of lovely sunny days in Tours, but on Mayday the heavens opened as they had done a week earlier. Mayday is an important public holiday and it must have really spoilt the day for people - especially the flower sellers out on the streets with sprigs of lily of the valley for sale.<br />
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I chatted to a couple from South Australia at the station. She was having trouble understanding what the cafe owner was asking her about desert, and because I wasn't the one under pressure I could get the gist of things and so helped her out. Yes I know, I can hear you all laughing from here - it is a funny thought indeed - me translating french for someone!<br />
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As I wandered around the town I saw many signs, the first thus far, saying "je suis charlie". As well as speaking the purest French in the country (so someone told me), this is obviously quite a political place too.<br />
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<i>With the merry go round in the background, I couldn't resist snapping this dapper bloke who was thoroughly modern spending some time on his mobile phone!.</i></div>
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<i>Le pont Wilson, Tours crosses the Loire. The bridge was built in the mid 1700's, has 15 arches and is 435m long. Tours was a US army base during the first world war and the bridge was re amed in 1918 after Woodrow Wilson.</i></div>
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<i>A memorial marking the Armenian genocide.</i></div>
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<i>Basilique Saint Martin, Tours.</i></div>
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<i>Tour Charlemagne, originally one small part of what must have been a massive monastery and church of St Martin.</i></div>
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<i>There are numerous half timbered houses in Tours.</i></div>
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<i>Mayday in France is very interesting. As I wandered around town at most prominent intersections and outside places like the railway station, vendors sold small bunches of lily of the valley. People were walking around clutching little cellophane wrapped bunches of this beautiful flower. It is customary on Mayday to give people you care about a sprig of the flower.</i></div>
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<i>I mention last time about the wide boulevards in Tours. Pedestrians saunter down the tree lined center of these roads, with traffic on the other side of the greenery.</i></div>
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I caught the train to Chatellerault where I had quite a bit of time to wander around, in the rain both on my arrival and departure days! In between meandering I spent a bit of time in a very nice cafe, and the next day, after a leisurely lunch I bumped into a quartet of Aussie travelers. They were touring France having spent time in Gallipoli for the Dawn Service. Chatting with them for an hour or so was a nice way to end my last day in France.</div>
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I arrived in Hendaye, the French border town, around 10pm, walking across to the Spanish border town of Irun, where I spent the night before catching the train early in the morning to Leon. My wallet is pleased. My last night in France was only €18 cheaper than the last three nights here in Spain, and I still haven't stayed in pilgrim accomodation! I've had my first cafe con leche, and again I can have about 2¹/2 for the price of one across the border! Even the train journey was cheaper - in France the four and half hour journey cost €76 whereas the five hour journey in Spain cost €34.</div>
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<i>A fountain in the main street of Chatellerault.</i><br />
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<i>When I first went to France giant bins were on the outside of the towns and villages. People would stop and place the recyclables and rubbish in them. They were always very smelly to walk past whereas these are far tidier, less obtrusive and definitely less smelly!</i><br />
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<i>A park in Chattelerault......</i><br />
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<i>........ and one of the wet shopping streets in the town.</i><br />
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<i>The way marks buried in the pavement in Chattelerault.</i><br />
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After spending two nights here in Leon it is my plan to head off in the morning along the Camino San Salvador to Oviedo, and then join up with the part of the Camino del Norte that I haven't walked yet. It has been raining for the past few days, but the forecast for the next week is for sunshine. This will be great crossing the Asturian mountains.</div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-44924692669074949472015-05-01T14:28:00.001-07:002015-05-01T14:29:46.479-07:00Rest, recovery, and Anzac Day.Since my last post I have have made both forwards and backwards progress, and my back, with a couple of good physios to help, has made steady improvement. <br />
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Let me explain the forwards and backwards. Last time I posted I was in the delightful city of Chartres, having had to catch the train there because of my painful back. After spending a week there I retraced my steps, by train, back through Paris and north to Glisy, near Amiens. My purpose for going there was to attend the Dawn Service at the Australian Memorial in Villers Brettonuex.<br />
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Though my back was too sore to allow me to walk distances around Chartres I still saw much, taking the little tourist train on an expedition both at night to see the lights, and during the day to see the sights. </div>
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<i>The River Eure flows through Chartres, and along its banks are many lavoirs where washer women washed cloth in days gone by. Some lavoirs have been converted to other purposes as in the case of the building bottom left, now a restaurant.</i></div>
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<i>Because taxes were charged on the surface area of the ground floor of a building, the people of Chartres had a cunning tax avoidance scheme whereby they made the ground floor smaller, but extended the upper stories outwards - tax free! </i></div>
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The trouble with going from the South of Paris to the North is that I had to change trains from Montparnasse to the Gare du Nord. I didn't feel able to walk the distance from Montparnasse to the Montparnasse Metro, and cheated by catching a taxi across town to Gare du Nord. On the return journey I avoided going to Montparnasse altogether and caught a connecting train South from Austerlitz. Much easier, even though I had to twiddle my thumbs for a few hours!</div>
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<i>The imposing entrance to Gare du Nord, Paris.</i></div>
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Arriving at the hotel in Glisy, on the outskirts of Amiens, I could have been mistaken for thinking I was back in Australia. For the first time in almost a year I was surrounded by people speaking with Aussie accents and hearing typical Aussie expressions, continuing through dinner and for the next few days.<br />
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That evening, being unable to book a taxi, I started to walk out to the Memorial, but after a few kilometers realized I wouldn't make the distance and so hitched out. The young man who picked me up assured me, in broken English, that he would "deliver me to Villers Brettonuex for the commemoration", which he duly did. The only problem was that I now had about three hours to fill before it was open at 2.00am! Some time around 1.00am I met David a retired nurse from Gepps Cross (Adelaide), and so we chatted together until we were allowed to walk the 2kms down the road to the Memorial site, where we then sat together. It was nice to have a friend for a few hours.<br />
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I am not sure if there were as many people as they were expecting, but I heard the figure rise from 6,000 to 8,000, though I suspect the weather might have reduced numbers a bit. The Service was moving with wonderful music provided by a choir from Queensland, and the Australian Navy Band. Though it drizzled on and off initially, by the time the pre service music started at 4.00 am it became a steady downpour continuing through till the conclusion of formalities, just like I remember Anzac Day's of old! At least it was only rain and no wind.<br />
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<i>Waiting to go through the turnstiles at 2.00am. Already a crowd.</i></div>
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<i>The Australian War Memorial.</i></div>
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<i>Waiting for the seats to fill. The chaps with the pink scarves were the " ushers", wiping the seats dry for people before sitting, though as time wore on that seemed an increasingly futile exercise!</i></div>
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<i>The cross of sacrifice, with the memorial in the background.</i></div>
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<i>In Amiens the street's were bedecked with Australian flags (below) and the entrance to the railway station had posters up (above).</i></div>
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<i>A view from my hotel in Amiens before heading south again.</i></div>
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<i>Many of the bigger railway stations have very nice Yamaha pianos (in tune) in them, along with adjustable seats. People walk past and play - some good, and others ....! </i></div>
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After leaving Amiens I headed south again, passing through Paris, but rather than returning to Chartres I decided to move on to Tours. I am disappointed not to have walked here, but my back would not have withstood it. I have spent an enjoyable five days here sightseeing, having more physio, and resting. I'm fretting, wanting to start walking, but don't want to undo the work that has been done on my back. It is much improved, and I feel I can start walking very soon. Mind you, it has rained steadily the last two days, so these days I'm not complaining about. </div>
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Tours is a delightful city. It has two parts to the city - the old, and the "new" which to my eyes looks pretty old too. Wide boulevards skirt around the newer city, though of course the medieval city has very narrow streets, filled with little shops and restaurants. The two parts of the city are linked with a good shopping precinct, a busy tram system running through its centre, and with the Loire River flowing through the city. The wide boulevards are tree lined and there are some lovely gardens and parks, both in the city, and along the river.</div>
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More about Tours next time.</div>
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<i>The pollarded plane trees eventually start shooting.</i></div>
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<i>Cathédrale Saint-Gatien, Tours</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7cD_1uGIAF5eOed68eB7xUf1-jdyLOQVk-uHW40Z3nSVNcwV4tte4vq8X11KLzNdYMaVW5qL923OkvhfFvUnkUr54J-BhZRvtvwpZUFEj8ST77LQmH5eaftCz6mMXZnrs9zzdwyOV_1V/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7cD_1uGIAF5eOed68eB7xUf1-jdyLOQVk-uHW40Z3nSVNcwV4tte4vq8X11KLzNdYMaVW5qL923OkvhfFvUnkUr54J-BhZRvtvwpZUFEj8ST77LQmH5eaftCz6mMXZnrs9zzdwyOV_1V/s1600/image.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>The stained glass windows in the Cathedral are not as big or grand as in Chartres, nor in some cases as old, but lovely nonetheless.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ94HiL31kYWEsjSszQN4mQTvkdC3GOrWuxt6uha32uZC5NJm6PG-1vRgs3KBCIEW8M20bdbNHv1ZkOvTH0Lbzjgk-sM1t3mBftYunEFbNVS4TkNiaGPQCy4MBAJFemZ8F7f1geKmWoqGn/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ94HiL31kYWEsjSszQN4mQTvkdC3GOrWuxt6uha32uZC5NJm6PG-1vRgs3KBCIEW8M20bdbNHv1ZkOvTH0Lbzjgk-sM1t3mBftYunEFbNVS4TkNiaGPQCy4MBAJFemZ8F7f1geKmWoqGn/s1600/image.jpg" height="400" width="266" /> </a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6t1wFWNEYYClXya7oeGXhG9XuUUJLJ1WJId1tG32wDVTdvf9A9ZADO6DQHtjdt6qydVC6-72HJosLnWoI9Z3G9j2cfW-HZ6TSpzswe90aM5M4Q2qDKaMKvl8ezv6rHfzGYvtzftSpO1w/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6t1wFWNEYYClXya7oeGXhG9XuUUJLJ1WJId1tG32wDVTdvf9A9ZADO6DQHtjdt6qydVC6-72HJosLnWoI9Z3G9j2cfW-HZ6TSpzswe90aM5M4Q2qDKaMKvl8ezv6rHfzGYvtzftSpO1w/s1600/image.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a><br />
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-39552786059976527712015-04-19T15:34:00.000-07:002015-04-19T15:34:20.012-07:00To ChartresLeaving Paris turned out to be reasonably pleasant and straightforward. I did of course have many kilometers of suburbs to negotiate, but the bars and cafes were frequent and so there were plenty of opportunities for food and drink breaks (which included toilet breaks), and rest stops. It was pleasantly warm, so warm I chose to walk on the shady side of the street - different from just a few weeks ago when I always looked for the sun! All went well until I was about a kilometer from Igny, the suburb (or almost a village) that I was headed to. Disaster struck! I could only limp, with tiny steps, but it wasn't my feet, it was my back! I have no idea what I have done, or how I did it. As far as I remember I never felt any untoward stretches, twists or pulls, but whatever caused it, the result is I haven't walked since, or nothing to speak of, and certainly not with a pack.<br />
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As I was passing I asked two young lads getting into their cars if they were headed to Igny, but they weren't. I inched my way along only to be stopped 10 minutes later by a car pulling up. "I can take you to Igny Miss" said one of the lads I'd spoken to before. He'd obviously seen me struggling, driven round the block, and come back to help. What wonderful kindness and generosity, which I met again at my next spot too.<br />
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Because I was in so much pain I caught a train and bus to Chevreuse, hoping that rest would fix things. It didn't, and so I decided the best thing to do would be to catch a train to Chartres and spend several days resting. The hotel owner closed the office and drove me the 3kms to the station "because you're sick". <br />
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I have had three days (four nights) in Chartres, and though my back is improved, it is by no means better, so it remains to be seen what happens next. <br />
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<i>The flowers were well and truly out and on display as I walked through the suburbs. This orange flower intrigued me. I don't ever remember seeing one like this before.</i></div>
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<i>A avenue of honour on the outskirts of Paris, near Antony.</i></div>
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<i>These hyacinths were just a mass of color and reminded me of jewell's.</i></div>
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<i>A castle overlooking Chevruese.</i></div>
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In between resting I have had a good look, though slow, at this beautiful city. It is famous for its cathedral, which contains beautiful stained glass windows and the largest labyrinth in the country. </div>
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The cathedral stands on a site where there have been a number of cathedrals ( five, I think). The current gothic one took only 30 years to build, and was built after lightning, in 1194, struck the spire which in turn collapsed onto the Romanesque cathedral, destroying it. </div>
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The windows in the cathedral are famous for the quality and shade of blue glass in them. In 1940 it took 15 days to remove all the windows to protect them. They were stored in the crypt, and in caves in the Dordogne, before being returned after the war.</div>
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<i>Pilgrim signs in Chartres.</i></div>
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The labyrinth can only be seen in its entirety on Fridays. I walked it on Friday morning, along with dozens of others. Following the track around, it is over 240 metres in length. <br />
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<i>Walking the labrynth.</i></div>
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<i>Chartres cathedral and some of the stained glass windows. Note the blue glass.</i></div>
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<i>The Chartres Cathedral (above and below) sits on a hilltop and it is said that on a clear day the spires can be seen from as far away as 30kms.</i></div>
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Chartres has a light (and sound) event after dark, from mid April till the end of October - Chartres en lumières. The cathedral is one of the many buildings with animated illuminations, lasting about 15 mins a cycle. The little tourist train does a tour around the city of all the buildings that are illuminated, passing both simple and complex illuminations. I enjoyed seeing the drawings of famous (though I didn't recognize many) people shown on buildings they had associations with.<br />
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<i>Just two of the illuminations on the cathedral. At times it was quite animated with "figures" abseiling down the building.</i></div>
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<i>St Pierre church was stunning in the afternoon sunshine.</i></div>
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<i>I'm staying in the St Yves hostellerie, the pointed roofed building, and my room looks across at the cathedral spire (unseen, but on the right of the photo).</i></div>
Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-25398284268123469042015-04-19T10:37:00.001-07:002015-04-19T10:37:07.878-07:00Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Paris! A grand city. I got a real feel for it as I negotiated my way through the streets from St Denis. There were people everywhere, and with the help of good old google maps I made it straight to the hotel, late (9.30pm) and very weary, having tramped along tarmac for most of the day. I had a hotel in the Montmartre district and spent the first day wandering around doing chores and sightseeing in the process. </div>
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The first chore was the washing which was easy as there was a laundromat just around the corner. My next chore was a little more difficult and in fact I never resolved it. That was to try and sort out my technology problems. No one could help me at the stores I went to, and since then it seems to have fixed itself, so here's hoping it stays that way.</div>
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My third chore was to find a guide book to get me to the city of Tours, which I found, but via Chartres, which I never did find. However as I wandered from place to place, store to store I saw many interesting things.</div>
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The final chore was to buy some sandals and a summer weight skirt. Again, no success until I decided to stay an extra day because I was so late leaving. I stopped at a cafe to have some breakfast and use the WiFi to find a hotel on the other side of the Seine. Here I had an interesting diversion chatting to a woman from Abu Dhabi. A brave woman as she was waiting for the birth of her twins any day, and she was doing some final homework on her verbal PhD thesis presentation. She was hoping that nerves didn't bring on the birth during her exam!</div>
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I stayed that night on the edge of Montparnasse and wished that's where I'd stayed the whole time. I also had success with the clothes I was looking for as I found an amazing camping shop. I actually went there in the hope that I would pick up the elusive guide book but no luck. This camping shop was not one, but many small shops and I kept being re-directed down or up the street or around the corner on the right or left! </div>
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On my second day in Paris I visited a couple of monuments and took a boat trip on the Seine. I went to Notre Dame, and decided that I really didn't want to see inside that much because the queue's stretched across the square, but later in the day when I was passing the queue's had gone and I went straight in.</div>
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Out of curiosity I measured how far I walked on my rest days in Paris and each day I walked just shy of 20kms. At least it was without a pack!</div>
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Enough words from me. I'll let the pictures tell the tale.</div>
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<i>The Cité des Sciences is a place of color, interesting play spaces for young and old, and full of life.</i></div>
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<i>Opposite my bedroom, on the fifth floor, it was moving day (above and below).</i></div>
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<i>Galleries Lafayette is not just one shopping store, but a number, linked. This was the sight inside one of the buildings.</i></div>
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<i>The Conciergerie (above and below) is one of the important buildings in Paris. It was initially part of the Royal Palace, then housed the prison. It was here that Marie Antoinette was imprisoned and met her execution.</i></div>
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<i>Also part of this former grand Royal Palace is the extraordinary gothic building called La Sainte-Chapelle, built by Louis IX. The stained glass windows in this building are wonderful.</i></div>
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<i>The exterior of La a Sainte- Chapelle</i></div>
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<i>My first sight of the monumental Eiffel tower (above), and below the view from the Seine.</i></div>
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<i>Notre- Dame de Paris.</i></div>
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<i>The Louvre and its pyramid in the setting sun.</i></div>
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<i>Soaking up the Paris sunshine.</i></div>
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<i>The Hôtel de Ville.</i></div>
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<i>From the Seine a view of Tour St-Jacques, all that remains of the church of St-Jacques (James).</i></div>
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<i>St Jacques, atop the tower.</i></div>
Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-14774819308398300932015-04-18T14:27:00.005-07:002015-04-18T14:27:40.800-07:00Saint Quentin, to Compiegne, and onto Paris.I have already told you how I stayed with Sylvie and her family in Belgium. Not only did she loan me her guide books for the rest of the path through Belgium, but I downloaded two other guides from her website for the journey from Saint- Quentin to Paris which made life very easy.<br />
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The tourist office in Saint Quentin, as helpful in 2015 as they were in 2011, helped me find accommodation for the first night after leaving town. This was in a special pilgrim friendly place, though I don't think it was called a refuge, it certainly had a peaceful feel about it. Getting there I had to use my navigation skills, as I have had to on most days into Paris. I occasionally saw signs, and then they dissapeared for hours. However, apart from one minor unintended detour of a couple of kilometers I eventually made it to my night's rest spot in the village of Tugny-et-Pont.<br />
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<i>The Saint Quentin canal, the only part of this journey I have walked before, though in 2011 I actually walked along the road on the other side. This was much more pleasant.</i></div>
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<i>The brown critter and I took a mutual dislike to each other! It began when he came up behind and head butted me. Every time I turned my back on him he would start chasing me, and I had to walk backwards each time I went outside. I resorted to shouting "no" to it, which was such a surprise it stopped in its tracks! I'm glad no-one else was there!</i></div>
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<i>My brown friend was out of sight and so I could take this peaceful scene from near my "bungalow" at Ms Noblesse's on the outskirts of Tugny-et-Pont.</i></div>
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<i>Ms Noblesse had references to St Jacques everywhere including this statue in front of what was the old mill. The river is the Somme.</i></div>
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<i>After leaving Tugny-le-Pont I had to navigate my way on roads like this leading across fields. At one point I missed a turn, but managed to find my way back without having to retrace my steps.</i></div>
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<i>This splendid gateway led to a cropped field. No road, or house to be seen!</i></div>
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<i>The pollarded trees have yet to get their leaves. A lovely place for shelter from the hot sun in a month or so.</i></div>
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The path led to the town of Noyon with a grand cathedral. I ended up staying in a hotel right opposite the Cathedral, but it was Sunday, and as usual little was open. I resorted to a takeaway pizza for dinner which I had in my room. Sundays in France can be a bit scary as very little is open. I persuaded Ms Noblesse to book a room for me before I left that morning so that at least I knew I had a bed. It is warming up, but still a bit too cold to risk sleeping outside!</div>
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<i>A fresco inside the cathedral in Noyon, and the interior of the cathedral (below).</i></div>
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<i>Noyon cathedral and war memorial.</i></div>
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<i>John Calvin the protestant theologian whose teachinga played a part in the reformation was born here in Noyon.</i><br />
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After the canals in the UK, the canals in France come as a surprise. They are so wide by comparison, and as on the rivers in Holland and Belgium, the barges traveling them move with considerably more speed. I could easily walk faster than the barges in the UK, but here, even running I doubt I would get ahead of them. The waves created as they pass can be heard sloshing against the canal sides for many minutes after they have gone.</div>
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<i>Heading under the bridge and along the canal. The red and white GR sign is on the pillar on the left.</i></div>
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<i>This is not a wall, but barges lined up end to end at the side of the canal.</i></div>
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<i>The path followed along the grassy banks of the canal towards Compiegne.</i></div>
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<i>The Mairie in Compiegne, with its fancy bell tower.......</i></div>
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......<i>and the three little men who strike the bells every quarter hour!</i> <i>Note the diminishing sizes - the pitch was "mi, re, doh" - or "hot cross buns"!</i></div>
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<i>The pilgim refuge, under the church, in Compiegne was a wonderful place - beds, not bunks, complete with a well equipped kitchen (not that I used it), and most importantly a warm welcome with lots of advice for the days to come.</i></div>
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From Compiegne there were only a few days into Paris. A lot of that time was spent walking through forest, and indeed I have been really surprised at how much forest there is. On that first day out of Compiegne the path led, in a straight line, for 12.5kms through forest, and that doesn't include the forests on the other side of the city and the forest to come. Even on the last day when walking into Paris there were several kilometers of forest before reaching the suburbs.<br />
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The forests are laid out, as they have been the whole way through Belgium and France, in a very symmetrical pattern. Leaving Compiegne on the 12.5 kms of forest tracks many of the signposts were set on a plinth. A real bonus because the provided a seat to sit and rest on!<br />
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At the edge of the forest after leaving Compiegne there were some roman ruins. A temple, a thêatre, and a thermes. I took some time wandering around before heading off across the fields to my Chambre d'Hôte in the village of Orrouy. Madame was very kind and packed a picnic lunch for me the next morning as there were no shops until Senlis, my destination for the day. This day only had a tiny bit of forest, most of the day being taken up with walking on a roman road straight through fields, with little shelter from sun or wind, neither of which were too bad, fortunately.</div>
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<i>A forest sign, and my lunch rest spot!</i></div>
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<i>Looking towards the thêatre from the thermes (bath house) at the roman ruins, not far from Orrouy.</i></div>
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<i>The shell sign was somewhat infrequent, and has been white, rather than yellow. This is the exit from the village of Béthisy Saint-Martin, the last patch of forest before reaching the 10kms of roman road.</i></div>
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<i>These vines have been espaliered against the wall, presumably to make use of the warmth of the stone.</i></div>
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<i>The fields have been poughed and the irrigation is ready to roll. The road continued straight just like this for 10kms!</i></div>
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<i>Shopping time in Senlis.</i></div>
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<i>Senlis Cathedral.</i></div>
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<i>The sun is not far off setting and I still have over 4kms to go before reaching the night's destination in le Mesnil Aubry. Heading towards the village of Fontenay en Parisis, and the flight path!</i></div>
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<i>At some stage the path has to cross the things needed for a big city, things like busy motor ways, high speed train lines, and in this case under the power lines.</i></div>
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<i>The forest at Sarcelles, the last forest to walk through before hitting suburban Paris. Note how green this forest has become compared to the one at Compiegne, only a few days earlier</i><i>.</i></div>
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<i>Reflections from the stained glass windows in the beautiful Basilica at Saint Denis, on the way into Paris.</i></div>
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<i>Heading into Paris the path took me past the football stadium, looking like a giant space ship, and along the canal.</i></div>
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<i>People walked and cycled along the canal, and further along they picnicked in their droves and played skittles and pétanque. For a while it was quite an obstacle course!</i></div>
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<i>This is working canal though, and here the cement trucks are lined up.</i><br />
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<i>The way led through the science park, with people walking, skating, cycling, chatting and playing on the many things to entertain, but more of that later.</i><br />
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Walking into Paris was more pleasant than I expected. It was a very long day though and I eventually reached my hotel at 9.30pm! Because it was such a mild evening people had come out to enjoy themselves. There was hardly an inch of space along the canal. I walked between the picnickers who sat on the edge of the canal with bottles of wine and little snacks and then the teams of pétanque players on the other side, and on the other side of them, the cyclists. Pétanque is a game played by all. I have seen the older men playing in the villages, but this night it was the young people who were playing, in their dozens. Sprinkled amongst them were teams of skittle players. These skittles are not like I am used to but rather shaped like a piece of giant dowell with an end cut off at an angle, and rather than rolling a ball to knock them over another type of skittle is thrown at them.</div>
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My technology problem seems to have resolved itself for the time being so have now put photos on the previous posts. I just hope it remains sorted. More about Paris, and beyond, next time.</div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-63681362826720034942015-04-13T14:08:00.002-07:002015-04-18T11:32:07.663-07:00Paris - in the springtime<span class="">Yesterday I watched the Paris Marathon. <span class="">I watched it, on and off, for about two hours and still they were passing - over 41,000 of them!</span></span><br />
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<span class=""><span class=""><i>Just some of the 41,000. Note the Eifell tower between the lampost and the tees!</i></span></span></div>
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<span class=""><span class=""><span class="">I watched near the 27km mark, before wandering along the Champs-Élysées, traffic free for some of the day. </span><span class="">There were young (ish) runners, older runners, and some that looked as if they could only be labelled as old! </span><span class="">They wore a variety of fluro colored shirts and some wore trendy bottoms - others just daggy shorts and even a few with no shirts. </span><span class="">Some ran in jeans or track pants. I don't know how they managed it as I was feeling warm, and I was standing still!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;">Along some of the </span><i>Champs-Élysées.</i></div>
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<span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class="">There were all shades of colored hair - curly, straight, long and short, many grey haired and a lot with no hair! </span><span class="">Some were skinny, others carried a bit of weight. </span>There were those that stopped every so often and walked to give themselves a breather.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class="">The crowds were very supportive, cheering and applauding as runners passed, some had musical instruments, with one group of fans banging on drums for hours. </span><span class="">A young lass had a megaphone to cheer all and sundry. </span><span class="">Somehow in this tremendous crowd of supporters individuals managed to spot their special runner amongst the thousands and ran alongside for a few hundred meters. I saw one young bloke roller skating next to his lady for a several hundred meters.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class="">The fire brigade cheered and held hoses, spraying jets of water across the race to cool down the runners. </span>The young guys took it in turns holding the hoses - it's hard work holding a heavy fire hose steady for so many hours. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><i>The fire brigade in the background were loudly cheering.</i></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class="">At one point I thought that I might have to practice my first aid at the very least, or even CPR! </span></span><span class=""><span class="">A man who was really obviously struggling stumbled a few meters before reaching me. </span><span class="">He continued stumbling, grinding to a halt in front of me, leaning towards me, about to fall. </span><span class="">I held out my arms ready to catch him, though I think he would have brought both of us down if he had done so, as he was a big bloke and at least six inches taller than me. </span><span class="">Somehow he found the strength to stay upright and continued to shuffle along the road. </span>I hope he made it safely - he was actually in the three and half hour estimated finishers (runners start according to the time they think they will finish).</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class="goog-text-highlight"><span class="">Some hours later, after I had eaten lunch and done some sightseeing, I could still see stragglers running along the banks of the Seine. </span><span class="">A motley lot of musicians struck up each time one of these weary runners passed, cheering them on their way.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class="goog-text-highlight"><span class=""><span class="">This was an event I was fortunate to witness in the bright spring sunshine, as Paris wore a dress of pale green, with leaves on the trees starting to shoot. </span><span class="">A multitude of colored jewels in the form of red and pink tulips, yellow daffodils, hyacinth and pink and blue's decorated her feet. </span>Indeed a lovely day.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class=""><span class="goog-text-highlight"><span class=""><span class=""><span class="">I still have not got around to telling you how I got here. </span></span><span class=""><span class="">That will have to wait for the next post. </span></span><span class=""><span class="">I have tried to make my words tell the pictures I am still unable to show you.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-40677945058956829792015-04-08T13:50:00.001-07:002015-04-18T11:15:33.859-07:00To Saint Quentin on the Via ThieracheIt has just occurred to me that I haven't posted for ages and you're probably wondering where and how I'm going. I am very close to Paris, but that can wait till the next post because I need to tell you about where I have been. Added to that there will be no photos on this post until I can talk to someone younger who can help me sort out an equipment problem. Will try and add them soon.<br />
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Sadly, the last day in Belgium was my worst. In fact it was the worst, weather wise, of the whole trip so far. It drizzled as I left in the morning and got steadily heavier as the day wore on. This, coupled with very strong winds, meant that I was unable to take many photos, couldn't read the guide book without it getting drenched, and because my head was down most of the day I didn't see much of the beautiful forest I was walking through. By the time I arrived at my Chambre d'Hôte in St Michel I was drenched through. The only dry bit of me was a strip of my trousers on the back of my calves! Fortunately though I was warm enough because of all the merino layers I was wearing. It was an effort to get to my room in a small château as Madame stood over me while I stripped off all my outer rain gear and my shoes and socks. In my room I put my pack on the bath mat which soon became sodden, though its contents were dry fortunately.<br />
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<i>I rested in the porch of this little chapel.</i></div>
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<i>At the only other sheltered rest spot, a derelict shack, I had a view of hundreds of wild daffodils.</i></div>
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Interestingly, the next day at the next Chambre d'Hôte I met a Belgium man who had walked from Brussels. He too had an awful day the day before and had asked to stay an extra night to recover. On the other hand, I decided I was OK and set off. Trouble was, I wasn't - OK, I mean, and walking to the abbey at St Michel I had to stop and rest every 200 metres. At this point I decided it was time to turn around and catch a bus (I had already reserved a room for the night and don't have the language skills to cancel it, hence my forward progress). The problem was that there was no bus. The path followed an old train line and was very pleasant and easy and so I slowly made my way along it, resting frequently, until I thought I was close enough to walk out to the road and hitch.<br />
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<i>The beautiful abbey at Saint-Michel.</i></div>
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<i>The path along the old train line made for easy walking fortunately.</i></div>
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<i>The path went past old stations, now converted into dwellings.</i></div>
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At the village of Wimy I saw an amazing church (closed) with two castle like towers at the front, and as I moved through the Thierache, the region I was in, I was to find out more about this and other such churches. The man who gave me the most information was the one who gave me a lift from the edge of the village. I was a bit gob smacked when he informed me that he had been to Adelaide, liked it better than Sydney, and that we have a very good museum and that he liked our old buildings - he lived in a region with buildings from the middle ages!<br />
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Now to return to these fortified churches, for that is what they are called, and there are over 60 in the region. This part of the world was more or less sandwiched between the armies of France (yes I know it is in France now, but presumably it was different then) and the armies of Austria and Spain whose kings had formed an alliance. There were no castles which could protect the people and so the people of the villages banded together and fortified the largest and strongest building in the village - the church - congregating in their safety when the armies were on the march. Hence in almost every village in the region there is a grand castle like church. <br />
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<i>This is not actually a church, but the tourist office in Saint-Michel. It is very near the abbey and has a tower too.</i></div>
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<i>The first of the fortified churches I saw, in the village of Wimy, and below, more fortified churches.</i></div>
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The following day I followed the old train track again all the way to the town of Guise, where arriving early, I spent a delightful couple of hours with Mark, a young Frenchman who, like me, couldn't get into the hotel - because no one was there till 6.00 pm. <br />
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On this journey I haven't retraced my steps, on previous pilgrimages, until now. My destination the next day was Saint Quentin, a town I had spent a week in trying to recover from tendonitis while walking the Via Francigena. I actually planned to stay here for three nights to do chores such as washing, but also to make sure I had a bed over Easter. As an Australian you can imagine my surprise to discover that Good Friday was just a normal day - children went to school, the bakeries were open, and the tourist office and shops were open all day. I loved my stay here as much as I did in 2011 and made numerous trips into the square to hear the very lovely Carillon on the Marie (town hall).<br />
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<i>The Mairie in St-Quentin.</i></div>
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<i>The Basilica in St Quentin has had a tough time over the years with havoc been wreaked on it during the wars. The photo above shows the cracks in the stone work and some of the repairs. It stood roofless for many years. </i></div>
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<i>The Basilica interior, with the beautiful labyrinth and the exterior (below).</i></div>
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There is one photo that I missed out on. On my last day in Belgium I crossed the River Oise, a small stream that, were it not swollen from the rain, I could almost have jumped across. I went to take a photo of it but couldn't because of a flat battery and it was too wet to dig out the spare. It would have been interesting to compare this little stream to the mighty river that has carved out the broad valley I have basically been following over the past week.<br />
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When I get the technology sorted I will add some photos, and will do a post shortly of this last leg into Paris.Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-73010329791745172672015-03-28T14:56:00.000-07:002015-03-28T15:02:05.662-07:00Leaving Belgium, for the second time, tomorrow.Over the past week I have been in and out of three countries, border hopping as I worked my way both into Belgium, and now into France, where I will remain.<br />
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Leaving Maastricht I had a beautiful sunny, though hazy, day. It was hot as I worked my way down the river to Liège, my first big city in Belgium. I had hoped to catch a boat from Maastricht but they are only running on the weekend so I dipped out on that, and with the roar of traffic constantly in my ears I decided that I would hop on a train for the last few kilometres into the city. I hadn't been successful in purchasing a guide book in Maastricht and was hoping for success in Liège. I spent two days traipsing from one book store to another, in between getting distracted looking at things, without any luck and at the last one I discovered why. The Belgium Friends of the Camino group only sell their guides through the website, which, being itinerant at present, was absolutely no help to me, and exceedingly frustrating. <br />
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Because I had had some problems with signs disappearing at odd times, and having absolutely no idea where the path went I decided my only option was to catch a train to the town of Huy, where I knew I could pick up a cycle path following the River Meuse to the city of Namur. <br />
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It was at this point, through the wonders of the internet, that my way connected with Sylvie, Nicholas, and their delightful family. Sylvie kindly loaned me her guide books, sent with Nicholas to his work and collected by me in exchange for some of my heavy gear, which I reclaimed again the following evening when they opened their home to me, providing a warm welcome, a dinner of traditional Belgium dishes, and a comfy bed. The guides meant that I had a couple of days walking through some beautiful forests, instead of along the river, though I was never far away, and have spent quite a few days walking along it too.<br />
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<i>My "Botel" in Maastricht where I spent 2 nights. It is moored on the River Meuse</i></div>
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<i>The length of the working barges on the river was a real surprise.</i></div>
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<i>Église Saint Jacques, Liège</i></div>
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<i>These columns in Liège intrigued me, a contrast to the grand building behind. Sylvie told me that they actually marked the old cathedral that once stood there.</i></div>
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<i>Liège has many contrasts between old a new - here the extension to the Opera house.</i><br />
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<i>Liège railway station is an extraordinary building, elegant lines and reflections throughout, and looking like a spaceship from outside!</i><br />
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<i>I stayed in an old château (above and below) about 5 kms from Huy........</i></div>
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<i>.......... though the view from the front door was a bit scary!</i><br />
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<i>Below is the impressive church at Huy.</i><br />
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<i>The square in Huy.</i><br />
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Nicholas walked with me from their home to the path on a beautiful sunny morning, spending time to show me an old château which is being carefully restored. After connecting with the path I had an enjoyable walk through the forest to the town of Namur. Having stayed in a château two nights earlier this night I stayed in a Casino, and the following night I stayed in the Abbey at Leffe, famous for its beer production, exported around the world apparently.</div>
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<i>The château being restored in Wartet.</i><br />
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<i>Walking through the forest means a climb up out of the river valley, generally followed by a descent.</i><br />
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<i>The further up the River Meuse I walked the more impressive the cliffs were.</i><br />
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<i>A street scene in Namur.......</i><br />
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<i>.......and a river scene - near my hotel.</i></div>
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<i>An impressive and different statue in Namur.</i><i><br /></i>
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<i>On the way to Leffe there were views across the river to interesting villages and the odd impressive château.</i><br />
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<i>Godinne.</i><br />
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<i>Leffe is just on the outskirts of Dinant, the birthplace of Adolphe Sax and this bridge has a line of oversized models of the instruments on each side.</i><br />
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<i>At the other end of Dinant stands the Rock of Bayard (left) a 40metre monolith.</i><br />
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<i>The path was very close to the river (still the Meuse) at times ........</i><br />
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<i>........ and going along this bit was quite scary. I had to be very careful going around the overhanging part of rock - not a lot of space with a large pack on!</i><br />
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<i>Looking across at Waulsort.</i><br />
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<i>Givet.</i><br />
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At the Abbey at Leffe I met the first pilgrims for the year. I shared the room with two men from Germany, a young man from Holland and two women, also from Holland. The monks fed us with a tasty dinner and breakfast. A couple of days later, in a cafe, I met another chap from Holland, and that night in Marzee Jaap arrived at the Chambre d'Hote. There was no restaurant in the town and so Aafke, Elisabeth, Jaap and I pooled what food we had for dinner. A tasty meal.<br />
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The next day I had the company of Aafke and Elisabeth for the first part of the day until our paths diverged. They have continued on towards Vezelay, while I'm on the Via Thierache now, heading for Saint Quentin, on my way to Paris. Not only have I lost fellow pilgrims, but, after many days of its company, I have also left the River Meuse behind.</div>
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<i>Dinner with Jaap, Elisabeth and Aafke</i></div>
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<i>Mazee</i></div>
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<i>Elisabeth and Aafke heading into Treignes......</i><br />
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<i>..... and later heading into Olloy sur Viroin, where our paths diverged.......</i><br />
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<i>..... and I headed into Nismes.</i><br />
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<i>Chimay. Interestingly the villages after Nismes have been quite "grey". The stone work in the buildings has been of grey stone, though the newer buildings on the outskirts of the villages are often bricks of various colours. </i></div>
Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-74566757269834614322015-03-18T03:29:00.001-07:002015-03-18T03:30:51.499-07:00Köln, in Germany to Maastricht, in Holland.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was dreading leaving Köln, as cities are often unpleasant to walk into, and out of, along busy streets. I was pleasantly surprised as the path took me through a lovely park, on a lovely day. For the time it took me to get to Aachen I had sunshine everyday. Indeed I had to take a layer of clothes off and didn't wear my beanie or gloves for the week. I have even dug out my hat and worn it for the last few days.<br />
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Leaving Köln was interesting for another reason - a football match! The path passed near the football stadium and so I walked with, and then against, the throngs heading to the stadium. I had to cross a street where there were police in droves and dozens of paddy wagons lined up. A man told me that they were there because a train from Frankfurt was expected full of "hooligans"! I could hear them singing (the tune was Loch Lomond) for miles!<br />
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I met several lovely people along the way. A couple of women in the park decided I was the wrong colour for an Australian - no suntan! Interestingly an English man who had visited Australia later made the comment that he was surprised how Australian women covered up, and he noticed how our women protected themselves against the sun!<br />
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Later this day I met another delightful woman who shouted me a coffee and spent a lovely hour chatting with her. Indeed, I spent the day chatting to people the whole way, and those who know me will say - with a touch of sarcaam- " what a surprise"! It was such a lovely day people were out in droves - cycling, walking the dog, or just ambling along the many paths.<br />
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<i>My hotel in Köln (on left) and the spires of the cathedral in the background.</i></div>
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<i>The Rhine at night.</i></div>
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<i>Leaving Köln and the start of the park.</i></div>
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<i>The police, cars, supporters in Müngeradorf.</i></div>
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<i>Brauweiler (above and below)</i></div>
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<i>Heading to Kerpen I met this traveller. He didn't like my bright red back pack!</i></div>
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<i>I had to invent the route I was to travel through the Königsdorfer forest. I lost the markers, but found this along the way.</i></div>
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<i>The crocus were flowering on the banks of the moat at the Schloss at Burgerhausen.</i></div>
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<i>A sign in Spanish on the way into Golzheim.</i></div>
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<i>More power plants!</i></div>
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<i>The ruins of a monastery in the forest heading to Schevenhütte, on my way to Vicht (pronounced Fisht!)</i></div>
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<i>This not so little granite character was reclining in a garden in Vicht.</i></div>
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<i>Leaving Vicht I climbed up onto a lovely plateau, a nature park, which I was told later used to be an army training base and also, at some point, a dump.</i></div>
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<i>The village of Breinig. Here the buildings are made of bluestone, a change from the half timbered buildings.</i></div>
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<i>The beautiful village of Kornelimünster.</i></div>
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<i>The Benedictine Kornelimünster Abbey built in 814.</i></div>
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Aachen was a big surprise to me. It was, for me, a surprise to come across some historical characters I had met on other parts of this journey. The big character was Charlemagne. I had no idea that Aachen was his capital. There are references to him everywhere - a Charlemagne centre, a Charlemagne museum, the town hall has portraits of him as this was the place that began life as his palace. I could go on but will stop at that. Interestingly all the portraits and statues of him are different as there is no surviving pictorial record of what he looked like, and only a brief description by his friend and biographer which could fit many of you reading this!</div>
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The other surprise character was Napoleon. Charlemagne was a role model of his and he visited Aachen, along with Josephine, several times.</div>
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The other surprise, and it shouldn't have been, was the Roman heritage of the town. A lot of the Roman evidence has been recycled, the walls for one being demolished over time and the stones being reused in other buildings. This was a spa town, with hot springs coming from the ground around which the town was built. In the garden in the centre of the town a structure has been built over archeological remains of a former Roman temple and hostel. They would have made use of these springs back then just as the locals turned this into a very fashionable place of therapy and healing in the 1800's. I watched people coming to the spring, around which a fancy building has been built, to fill bottles with the warm water pouring from the fountain. I could also smell the sulphur in the air around it, reminiscent of Rotorua in NZ, but not as strong.</div>
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<i>The Aachen cathedral (above and below). It was part of Charlemagne's palace and the entrance is an ocatagonal shape.</i></div>
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<i>A modern stained glass window in the cathedral.</i></div>
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<i>Below is a little chapel, recently built on the way. Inside was a stake of the pilgrim St James (or in German - St Jakob)</i></div>
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<i>Just one of the many churches on the way into Aachen</i></div>
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<i>The Elisenbrunnen. It was built in 1827, badly damaged during the war and rebuilt and restored to its former glory. The Cathedral is in the distance.</i></div>
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<i>A lady fills her water bottles at the fountain.</i></div>
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<i>In the centre of the Elisengarten stands the protected Roman archeological dig, with the Elisenbrunnen in the background.</i></div>
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<i>Inside the Coronation Hall in the Rathaus (town hall), venue for the crowning of 32 German kings.</i></div>
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<i>There were some gorgeous statues in Aachen, but generally speaking the fountains are still not working, presumably in case there is more icy weather.</i></div>
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<i>Heading towards Gulpen. The village in the distance is Vijlen and somewhere between there and where I'm standing I crossed the border into the Nederland's. I have no idea where, the only way I knew I was in another country was that the signs were in Dutch instead of German.</i></div>
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<i>The village of Gulpen, my first stop in the Netherland's.</i></div>
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<i>The path in the Netherlands was sometimes lacking in signs, and needed a lot of interpretation. Eventually I figured that I was to follow the direction the little bloke on the left is headed.</i></div>
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<i>I missed the heather in flower in Scotland but have seen plenty in flower here in recent days.</i></div>
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<i>Heading into Maastricht.</i></div>
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Like Aachen, Maastricht was a surprise. A truly lovely city. Cobbled streets, old buildings, lovely churches and a river on which the barges travel up and down stream. It is a very outdoor living city with many, many bars and cafes complete with chairs and tables on the pavements.</div>
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<i>The river around which Maastricht is built. The barges are frequent and fast.</i></div>
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<i>One of the churches in Maastricht.</i></div>
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<i>Vrijthof square lined with bike racks and bars. This is the square where Andre Rieu holds his concerts in July.</i></div>
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<i>This is the view of St. Servaas Basilica from the square.</i></div>
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<i>The portico in St Servaas Basilica.</i></div>
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<i>The Markt square in Maastricht.</i></div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-26996771996641074182015-03-07T14:34:00.000-08:002015-03-07T14:34:02.670-08:00On the way to Köln, and now nearly across Germany.Spring is well and truly on the way! I am seeing, and hearing, signs everywhere. The crocus and snowbells are blooming in proliferation, and now I'm seeing daffodils just starting to colour, and in plantings in the city they are actually flowering, along with plantings of pansies and polyanthus. As well as these signs I think I can feel it! For several days I have had only three layers on the top, and often no hat or gloves. Yesterday the temperature got to 11° and today I noticed it was 13°. Tomorrow the forecast is for 18°, though it won't be for long as the temperature is set to plummet in the days to come.<br />
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<i>These are purple crocus, but I have seen white and yellow ones too.</i></div>
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<i>Schneeglöckchen in bloom (Snowdrops)</i><br />
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<i>The first daffodils.</i><br />
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<i>Spring flowers blooming near Köln Cathedral</i></div>
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Since leaving Marburg I have been obliged to make a couple of train journeys. After spending over an hour in the Marburg Tourist Office and exploring every accommodation possibility I came to the reluctant conclusion that the only way to get to Siegen was by train - accomodation possibilities at this time of the year making it too difficult to walk. Mind you, even catching the train was complicated as I had to go South to Giessen where I stayed overnight and then headed up to Siegen ready to walk.<br />
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This part of the journey has had a few more hill climbs than previous sections, with each morning seeming to begin with a particularly nasty ascent. However, once on the top, the path mostly follows the contour lines, gently undulating through various forests and along the odd country lane. On these ridges the views across the distance have been worth the effort, though the often biting wind meant the temptation to linger was dampened!<br />
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<i>At the top of the hill, after leaving Siegen, I had icy snow to carefully traverse.</i></div>
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<i>Looking back at the village of Oberfischbach. As I walked up this hill a man called to me and while I tried to figure what (or rather, how) I could tell him what I was doing he came over with a chocolate bar in his hand - his actions said "to give you strength"!</i></div>
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<i>Along the way I periodically come across logging ventures.</i></div>
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There have been, along this section, quite a few little chapels. None were open, but seeing these little chapels along the path reminded me of Italy.</div>
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<i>Kapelle Zur Schmerzhaften Mutter near Friesenhagen.</i></div>
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<i>A few hundred metres further on there was St Anna Kapelle</i></div>
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<i>This was the church in Friesenhagen itself.</i></div>
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<i>Just before reaching Crottorf, at the top of a hill, was the Heilig Kreuz Kapelle</i></div>
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<i>The ivy covered church tower in Drabenderhöhe</i></div>
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<i>The man walking past this little church stopped and had a chat with me, in garbled (on my part) one word sentences, stopping and telling a passer by how I was an Aussie walking Jakobsweg from Leipzig (roughly 450 kms away).</i></div>
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<i>I stopped here in Denklingen for a snack before pushing on to my hotel.</i></div>
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<i>As I walked through Steinenbrück this old building with its crooked beams caught my eye.</i></div>
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<i>Looking out at the village of Overath.</i></div>
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<i>I didn't pause at this rest stop. I could see a squall approaching and I was trying, unsuccessfully as it turned out, to get to my hotel in Bierenbachtal without having to put my raincoat on. With 20 minutes to go it hit, rain and sleet combined with wind.</i></div>
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This stage of the journey has had some navigation challenges. The signs disappear periodically and I have to use my sense of direction and instincts, combined with map reading and deductive skills. Even so, there were a number of times when I walked without signs for some distance and was very relieved to see a sign appear.</div>
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<i>This was a very suspect sign (the yellow splodge on the tree trunk) that I managed to see from 100 metres out on the road.</i></div>
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Walking into Köln was fairly tedious. It was 10kms along the footpath. After walking through a few forests for most of the previous day it was tough pounding the pavement into the city. Mind you, 10kms was a shortish day and so I arrived in the city by lunch time.</div>
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Köln is a busy city, even in the off season. There seem to be tours of every description going on with clumps of tourists clustered around their guide tell them stories in a variety of different languages.</div>
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When I went to visit the Cathedral a mass was about to begin. Only those attending the service could enter and so I went in, at 10.30 on a Saturday morning. It was apparent that this was a fairly important service, but a surreptitious peak at google made me none the wiser. There were all sorts of church dignatories, and the procession as they entered was a sea of colour. Servers in red and white, priest and others in cyclamen pink and purple, along with the choir in white cassocks. </div>
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It was the size of the choir that made me aware that it was a special service, which I later found out was a farewell for one of the Cathedral's leaders. It was a real treat to hear the music at the service. The choir was wonderful and it wasn't till things were underway that I realised there were two choirs. The boys and men were at the side, very near where I sat. I puzzled over why the conductor was using such large, expansive conducting patterns, until I spied, on a balcony, another conductor doing the same thing, copying the boss below! He had behind him a slightly smaller choir of girls and these two choirs sang together, separately, and did some really interesting canons. In between this when it was time for everyone to sing the organ thundered high above, jutting over the congregation.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5EfdL7DEbW1nJBZ-U_ZM3K2l9rUCZUwszLy-qHBlawUE_mTyxzYKXBroYU_Yne-6eqyDxD37CwybXOICxpSzs3NKny_4yC2Yf-Zcj6BWXBVV6WG0RSD8KY5CnMZa5vQM1q92djaCn6sh/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5EfdL7DEbW1nJBZ-U_ZM3K2l9rUCZUwszLy-qHBlawUE_mTyxzYKXBroYU_Yne-6eqyDxD37CwybXOICxpSzs3NKny_4yC2Yf-Zcj6BWXBVV6WG0RSD8KY5CnMZa5vQM1q92djaCn6sh/s1600/image.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>The organ perched above the heads of the congregation. I wouldn't like to be the organist - you'd need a good head for heights!</i></div>
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<i>The Köln Cathedral, with a little tourist train in the foreground.</i></div>
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<i>A street scene in Köln.</i><br />
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<i>The sunshine brought everyone out to sit in the cafe's, still rugged up with coats, and rugs for the knees.</i><br />
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8535856900598008445.post-22809996424365083392015-02-25T15:02:00.000-08:002015-02-25T15:02:12.658-08:00Marburg, the end of one leg and the start of the next.Since my last post I have worked my way steadily westwards to the University town of Marburg. <br />
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As I've walked along I've had companions who have chosen to walk in silence with me. Silence, because once I've explained that I am walking Jakobswegwege, where I have come from, and where I am going - in the short term and the long term - there is nothing more to say! I can't understand them, and they can't understand me! However we walk in companiable silence, occasionally commenting, with gestures, on something around us and frequently using the word "Schön" to describe the sunshine, the view, the birds. Yes you've guessed it, Schön means beautiful.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeicS_0LJKN8kXP6UPZujv_eaGbJ6O-PCY_DoNZl5F2faxfzuCvNL4TrD5-YZ39t219MclZQl5WLsIZNeQ_UXqW7IT0LVtUgQp6Kr4mluvt2mkONPcj9dRBMQTZPtkq-q_MJIPKKlxhJIy/s1600/1110677.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeicS_0LJKN8kXP6UPZujv_eaGbJ6O-PCY_DoNZl5F2faxfzuCvNL4TrD5-YZ39t219MclZQl5WLsIZNeQ_UXqW7IT0LVtUgQp6Kr4mluvt2mkONPcj9dRBMQTZPtkq-q_MJIPKKlxhJIy/s1600/1110677.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Looking back down the path to the village of Dagobertshausen </i><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA71IieXMEwkW-jOWbe37a9gtWLxA29mpmBhDV8_ZUfPoGAVQXs7Lx0sXVu4zDUV4TaILzv97t01XVi141iPVqoJcOYFxa3btWmoNo_EKMfvvuIJdhZk7mDzHWt-M0kMfdnY9z6fVImGvu/s1600/1110682.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA71IieXMEwkW-jOWbe37a9gtWLxA29mpmBhDV8_ZUfPoGAVQXs7Lx0sXVu4zDUV4TaILzv97t01XVi141iPVqoJcOYFxa3btWmoNo_EKMfvvuIJdhZk7mDzHWt-M0kMfdnY9z6fVImGvu/s1600/1110682.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>A sign on the way</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Xgu8_BwxgndXNqnZpfxlqwO1T5SCktDzPoQrc1jbRoV1jo8A2lamtoAOLZhD06YcQKFEYPzZm89-l9vTRS8G4LXz-E8QhO78QSRgM61izymSIYPVeg31GQSMjrqSNPgOebn8rBcFE7Ck/s1600/1110694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Xgu8_BwxgndXNqnZpfxlqwO1T5SCktDzPoQrc1jbRoV1jo8A2lamtoAOLZhD06YcQKFEYPzZm89-l9vTRS8G4LXz-E8QhO78QSRgM61izymSIYPVeg31GQSMjrqSNPgOebn8rBcFE7Ck/s1600/1110694.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>In the village of Ostheim</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL4ZFP2kxXrdE4sUrqoiE2VSOCqEUgncmzxgWucXlevebBj-FoTCjdQXa-7kdDLdhkiU1PK1WLL4JBEXQ2LyL1ava_PititlA6SKM1soiJuxZvw3ptAl87qrWVxH33pVme_NlmqmUXZzZs/s1600/1110704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL4ZFP2kxXrdE4sUrqoiE2VSOCqEUgncmzxgWucXlevebBj-FoTCjdQXa-7kdDLdhkiU1PK1WLL4JBEXQ2LyL1ava_PititlA6SKM1soiJuxZvw3ptAl87qrWVxH33pVme_NlmqmUXZzZs/s1600/1110704.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>The snow still lingers.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht226xg8rDgvocZOSIEZBScl7xVOmmBtTsg91NpzTqxcD9vK-dNhwtemrqQANjd13W-pYSDUBiTDRrS1y3vUUBy1rjkFbVVt7mLvqk_hyphenhyphenY1BYwHbqqUjKQ0ia1URAQgFDhbKI2c4fhbaLB/s1600/1110788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht226xg8rDgvocZOSIEZBScl7xVOmmBtTsg91NpzTqxcD9vK-dNhwtemrqQANjd13W-pYSDUBiTDRrS1y3vUUBy1rjkFbVVt7mLvqk_hyphenhyphenY1BYwHbqqUjKQ0ia1URAQgFDhbKI2c4fhbaLB/s1600/1110788.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>Leaving Ziegenhain, this man stood guard, with just one of the prison buildings over his right shoulder!</i></div>
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I have been very fortunate these past few days to see flocks of geese returning home. When I was entering the town of Homburg four flocks flew over - either that or it was one flock that had got lost and were flying around in circles! Then a couple of days later walking into Stadtallendorf there were even more flocks heading home. This, according to one chap I spoke to, is a sign that spring is on its way. Mind you in between that I had a day of snow!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJODepi-TQE4D9lfgUS_8kWLokS1KUWDT_5LFFojHFTMONQ1wBOnsVF5yhshWwYWwCOCRyHnLDEopMm3SqLE-rWA6ZkyWO1QD14NzdM1wdfa8xU5o0finyED2mQSY0FRQtZujHhfljtzFX/s1600/1110716.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJODepi-TQE4D9lfgUS_8kWLokS1KUWDT_5LFFojHFTMONQ1wBOnsVF5yhshWwYWwCOCRyHnLDEopMm3SqLE-rWA6ZkyWO1QD14NzdM1wdfa8xU5o0finyED2mQSY0FRQtZujHhfljtzFX/s1600/1110716.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>The beautiful half timbered houses, here (and below) in Homburg, are in every village along the way.</i></div>
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<i>The path continues up the hill and along the edge of the forest to the right.</i></div>
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<i>This historic ruin is in the lovely village of Treysa.</i></div>
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<i>I walked through the forest in the background and past these giants which threw a long and moving shadow in the late afternoon sunshine. It was soon after this that I met one of my silent companions who went at least 3 - 4 kms out of his way to make sure I got to my hotel, escorting me right to the door.</i></div>
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Marburg is a lovely city. The old town sits on a hill with a castle perched on the top, while the famous Elisabeth Kirche named after St. Elisabeth is at the foot of the hill.</div>
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<i>Elisabeth Kirche (above and below). St. Elisabeth moved to Marburg where she lived a life of poverty, following St Frances example. This was after the birth of three children and being widowed by the time she was 21.</i></div>
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<i>The Lutheran church near the top of the hill, and part of the castle in the distance.</i></div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10681460663682338784noreply@blogger.com1