The Great Camino Picture Post

There's a whopping 320 of 'em, so you can view them as you wish. Here's a link to the album, or you can view the slideshow below.

They run chronologically. I've really tried to narrow it down....there was over 2,000 to start with. Often times you'll see me holding up numbers....that indicates the day of the walk I am on. Enjoy!

Santiago de Compostela

On November 27th, at 3:30 p.m. I walked into Santiago de Compostela. I was blessed with an excellent sunny day, a lively city, and some bagpipe music I´ll never forget (Galicia is akin to Ireland). This means that I completed the Camino in 36 days - just a little longer than average.

Towards the Camino´s end, I was fit enough to walk one 40km day (arriving at a roadside motel at 8:30) and intentionally break away from the pack I was traveling with. I wanted to arrive alone, just as I had started, and spend the next few days watching my friends arrive. This was a most splendid plan. We´ve been having a great time the past few days because the city fits all of my criteria for excellence: beautiful city center, copious outdoor seating, good accomodations, cheap food and a huge student population.

I´ve a boatload of pictures to upload, but you will likely have to wait until around November 4th for me to get them up (just after I arrive back in the States). Check back!

Picture Dump

Regarding the Manner in Which We Consume, or I Consume During Physically Strenuous Days, or the Sixteen Hours I am Awake

The day began with the following:

2 Bananas
1/2 Liter of Pineapple Soy Juice
4 Slices of Austrian Brown Bread
2 Apples
2 Packets of Arroz con Leche Yogurt
1 Coffee with Milk
1 Hard Boiled Egg
1/2 Baguette (White)
1/2 Jar of Nutella
1 Kiwi

And as I walked I ate:
1 Orange
1 Apple
1 Banana
1 Powerbar
2 Liters of Water
1 Handful of Assorted Nuts

When I stopped I ate (a most delicious sandwich):
1/2 White Baguette
3 Cans of Tuna (Claro)
1 Packet of Olives
1 Can of Peppers
1 Pastry

Then relaxed with:
2 Beers
1 Pack of Mixed Nuts

After a Gregorian Chanting Vespers, ate Cocino Magarato (the cuisine of the local people), which included

From CDS 4

1 Pig´s foot
1 Pig´s Ankle
2 Strips of Pork Fat
2 Pig´s Ears
1 Filet of Beef
1 Rooster Breast
1 Sausage
2 Cans of Chickpeas
2 Handfuls of Stewed Cabbage
1 Bowl of Fideo
1 Bowl of Natilla (cream) with Cinnamon
1/2 Flan
1 Liter of Wine



In Molinaseca now, an absolutely stunning city in the center of the state of Leon, just west of Ponferrada. I´ve become incredibly close to a fellow American named Joseph from Chicago and an awesome dreadlocked, basketball playing Austrian named Suzie, and we are really enjoying spending this Camino together. I´ve got about 200 km to go (9 days) and not looking forward to the end. I donated my ´´stone´´ to the Iron Cross at the highest point in the whole Camino (1500 km) today, and will post pictures of the process soon. Thank you Jeanne, for the almond I carried this whole walk and donated to the pile.

Things are good. Much of us have been talking about life after this experience. The majority, such as myself, are going through major transitional phases; we feel quite free to explore some new avenues. I´ve no idea how things will play out for me, but recently am leaning towards making this a travel year. International graduate schools and returning to work seem to be the other two options. In other news:

Some people say the Camino is divided into three stages;

1. The Body - St Jean Pied de Port to Burgos
The first 300 km or so, during which you experience the beginnings of the pains you will or won´t get over for the entirety of your walk. This is where my knee pains (which have subsided, or I´ve gotten used to) began. Update: I´ve began walking without a brace or creams of any sort, and you´d likely never know I had a problem if you saw me walking.

The Mind - Burgos to Astorga
As the Hungarian Spirit Healer put it: during this portion there is nothing to look out outside, so you have to look inside. A most meditative phase.

The Soul - Astorga to Santiago
Just starting this phase, but the natural surroundings have definitely been incredibly stimulating, and we´ve each settled into a rythym that works for us.


Please calculate how many calories I ate yesterday - you´ve got time!

La Meseta

The middle region of the Camino is known as La Meseta - primarily the state of Castila y Leon. You could think of this area as being the belly of Spain - the majority of the wheat and corn crops are grown here. It´s not the wealthiest of regions in Spain, but I´ve found the villages to be even more precious because of this.

Many people don´t enjoy this portion of the Camino. The land is flat. There is no shade, and a good portion of the paths ride alongside major highways. There are also very long stretches without towns, such as today´s 22 km stretch.

I don´t universally love the meseta. The mornings are really breathtaking. The sky is so big and the sunrise is incredible. You can walk quite long distances since there are no mountains, and this is good for people on a schedule. The latter portions of the day can be quite sadistic, I think. The ants have their wings now, and my scarf has been crucial, as it covers everything but my eyes to keep them off. What I really enjoy about the Meseta is the feeling of being in some sort of a timeless, placeless system. I move quite a bit everyday, but there is no discernible end or beginning to the walk at this point. I am in this thing and it tells me when to wake up, where to eat, where to walk, where to drink and where to sleep. I don´t have to, or care to, worry about much else.

Some of the big highlights have been tasting patcharan (sp), a local anise spirit, eating local rabbit in Castillo de los Hermanillos and having picnics in the fields. I wish I could get some more photos up - but these computers are quite slow. No slideshow this time.

Also, I´ve passed the halfway point of the Camino!

From camino de santiago part thre

From camino de santiago part thre

From camino de santiago part thre

From camino de santiago part thre

From camino de santiago part thre

Boadilla

In what can only be described as pure serendipity, I befriended a chiropractor from the Canary Islands just after the last post. Guess what he is carrying with him? A machine for electroshock therapy - very useful in tendon rehabilitation! I received two treatments yesterday and wah-dee-freakin-la, I can walk pretty darn well again. I still kept the day´s regimen light - 18 km to Boadillas. I´m not going down easily! I was rewarded with an afternoon swim at the excellent albergue here. I´ve been walking with a great canadian woman named Rosalie who, despite being 61, has more spunk than any young pilgrim I´ve met yet!

Some people asked about the toilet situation at San Bol - it was not pretty. Let´s be totally honest here, ok? At 6 in the morning I could not refuse nature´s calls - the important ones. I stumbled out of my bed, sans contact lenses (mistake one), slipped into my sandals (mistake two) and walked out into the pitch black rain (mistake three) to....a field of toilet paper and human waste. Sure, there was a symbolic toilet out there with no basin (wet from the rain), but I opted to take a long, long arc around said Field of Shit (this deserves cussing). I found what seemed to be like a secluded spot, did my work, and then headed straight for the spring to vigorously wash my feet and sandals and apply one heavy coat of antibacterial cream to all exposed areas. I won´t forget that experience!

San Bol

I dipped into the water in this oasis in the Meseta´s arid wheatfields and the cold water sucked the breath from my body. Tucked in this valley lies one ancient spring, one makeshift pool to receive the freshwater spewing from the ground, one humble abode, a field of 50´ oak trees and one Hungarian spirit healer.

The Arroyo de San Bol is a minimally settled watering hole with unknown roots in the Castila y Leon region of Spain. The albergue is definitively the most primitive on the whole Camino - no shower, electricity, toilet or running water (apart from the spring) and three rooms. I arrived at about 4 p.m. and was the sole guest this fine night. I bathed in the spring-fed pool, washed my clothes with its natural fountain and napped beneath the tree´s shade. By lamplight, Judit prepared a fresh chicken soup and chicken risotto, along with homemade Spanish schnappes and hot wine with cinnamon. I´ve been working on being open to new experiences, and I was certainly happy to have stayed in this albergue. Judit has been working at this albergue for about three months, and will close up for the winter in one week. Book your plane tickets now!

I have now walked almost 380 kilometers, and it is time to make some tough decisions. My knee needs rest. I am not sure how much, but one extra day in Burgos was not sufficient. My strict regimen of oral ibuprofen, daily stretches, anti-inflammatory cremes, three packs of ice a day, 2 liters of water and a very slow pace is enough to keep me going - but I want to enjoy the walks more. Tomorrow I am traveling backwards, to Burgos - by bus - and resting for four-five days. This rules out reaching Finisterre by foot and makes reaching Santiago de Compostela before November 1st quite close. I have been mentally preparing to walk away from the Camino altogether if this last break does not prove sufficient.

I am one of many who suffers from tendonitis. Believe it or not - the most afflicted are young, athletic males like myself. People who are not in shape are unable to push their bodies to the point of wearing out their tendons - other factors such as poor conditioning slow them down enough. I have some regrets, such as starting a bit late during my time in Europe, and not preparing sufficiently - but I know there´s a big lessons to learn from this experience.

Should this end, I´ll definitely be back for a second, more prepared attempt. Please wish me luck!

Fede

La Gallina

I´ve arrived in Santo Domingo, a lovely town marked by a completely unique cathedral. There´s a local legend from the 16th century that tells of a German pilgrim being sent to the gallows after being blackmailed by an innkeeper´s daughter for not sleeping with her. Just before being hung, St. James saved his life miraculously. Upon the false declaration by the town judge that the German was dead, his parents exclaimed: my son is as alive as the rooster and hen on your plate! Just then they sprang to life and quacked their way into infamy. A rooster and hen now perenially live within the cathedral. My albergue houses the backup chickens in its garden.

Tonight at 8:30 there is a choral concert in the cathedral, and afterwards I will take a nocturnal tour at 10 pm. This is most splendid timing. Roberta, the other Brazilian with knee trouble, is staying here as well. It is always nice to have familiar faces around.

I´m incredibly thankful to have met some great new people on the camino; the crowd I am walking with is much younger than I expected, and we´ve bonded together in our desire to save money by cooking communal dinners, often with limited means. Two nights ago, we microwaved our way to simple pasta in tomato sauce and a hearty salad. The dinner was accompanied by wine from a local family owned bodega, where we were given a personal tour. Total cost: three dollars. Yesterday in Azofra, Daniel from Sweden and I were the chefs and we went Mexican style. Pan fried chicken, rice with hot peppers, onions, garlic, potatoes and peas and beans with onion. Most delicious!

The knee is functioning. Though I hoped to take a break in Azofra working at the albergue, I was told my help was not needed. Since the city offered less than an hour´s worth of siteseeing, I walked on to Santo Domingo. I think I´ve actually walked more kilometers with tendonitis than without, and this is encouraging. I´ll likely take my two-day break in Burgos instead.

I´ve dedicated the rest of my pilgrimage to Jay. Please take the time to donate the American Cancer Society in his honor.

(see post below)

Concerning Jay

I dont understand how Facebook, blogs and the internet function when serious events pass. I have this blog, though, that affords me an awkward forum to address normally inconsequential topics, like windy days at the beach or days spent walking. I don´t feel it is an appropriate space to eulogize anyone, especially not someone extremely close to me, but writing about anything else seems irrelevant and irresponsible.

A few days ago a dear, dear friend of mine, Jay Townsend, passed away. Jay was an enigmatic, talented, accepting and loving friend to many, many people. He and I grew extremely close since meeting in 2002 at Rice´s School of Architecture. Over the course of eight years, we were fortunate to produce a healthy body of work together, including various architecture projects, one documentary, one art exhibit, and most recently one pending installation proposal. Each of these projects was an exercise in personal humility; Jay was so brilliantly talented that I simply stood out of his way and happily basked in the credit he was so individually and appropriately due. Thanks for letting me look good, Jay.

I was lucky to spend much of his last few months with him, and am happy to say that he was in great, great spirits. Jay´s death will always be appropriately considered untimely, so I´ll offer a simple, positive toast for Jay: Here´s to a timely life.

Federico Cavazos de la Frontera

From DQLM

Just then they came in sight of thirty or forty windmills that rise from that plain. And no sooner did Don Quixote see them that he said to his squire, "Fortune is guiding our affairs better than we ourselves could have wished. Do you see over yonder, friend Sancho, thirty or forty hulking giants? I intend to do battle with them and slay them. With their spoils we shall begin to be rich for this is a righteous war and the removal of so foul a brood from off the face of the earth is a service God will bless."

"What giants?" asked Sancho Panza.

"Those you see over there," replied his master, "with their long arms. Some of them have arms well nigh two leagues in length."

"Take care, sir," cried Sancho. "Those over there are not giants but windmills. Those things that seem to be their arms are sails which, when they are whirled around by the wind, turn the millstone."

The First Setback

is quite difficult. As the day wore on today, my knee felt less and less comfortable - just behind the right side of my right kneecap, something ain´t right, alright? In Villahurta, I consulted my Finnish friend Veera´s Runes. My draw: 7, 6 (reversed) and 23. The verbatim descriptiong: Standstill and Ice. Booked a bed in a wild albergue run by Brazilian hippies, which has given me a nice opportunity to get a leg massage, plenty of advice from the free spirits staying here and a long, long nap on the hammocks outside.

I´m surprised about why this is difficult, because the pain itself is very bearable. I struggle with unmet expectations. Stopping yourself now to be able to complete the rest of the camino is much, much harder than walking on. A strong community develops; one that travels together each day. Staying behind means losing that group. I´d become especially close to my man Eduardo from Colombia, Veera from Finland, Paulo from One-ness University (and Brazil) and Heinz LikeTheKetchup from Austria. The stay in Villahuerta has been quite rewarding in other ways, though: I received a personal tour of the local cathedral from a sweet old lady. I have three "angels" looking after me in Carmen, Marialuisa and Maria Ilda, three Spanish retired sisters I ate dinner with, and I was able to upload photos. Enjoy!

Two Days in Five Minutes

Conceived and written in the five minutes of internet I have today:

I have now walked a total of 75 km and each day has been uniquely challenging but consistent enough for me to give a few ideas about what this experience is like. I want to temper everything written by saying that this time has been absolutely amazing - I have not a single complaint. The Way is difficult to describe because each phrase I would like to use is contradictory. The journey is an omnivorous experience, its dpeht in terms of how much time is spent means that you experience the entire spectrum of emotions and feelings. Often times I feel like I am part of a real community, an Adult College who´s members are from all over the world and who have decided to enroll at all different stages in their lives. Each person brings something that is particularly unique - those traveling alone moreso than others. At the same time (here is where contradictions arise), there is a certain consistency to our presence here. We were all ¨called¨ for lack of a better term , and made certain sacrifices in our lives to make this possible. The way is soothing and strenuous, hot and cold, time consuming and time allowing. It is great. And yes - you and and should do it. Out of time - au Revoir form Pamplona!

A Day in the Pyrenean Clouds

I just completed the first stage of the Camino de Santiago de Compostela - a 27 km hike through the Pyreness from St Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles. Today´s hike conisted of climbing 800 m and scaling 200 m back down to this sleepy small town just south of the Spanish French border. The entire day was spent walking through a dense cloud, a surreal experience. I´m staying in a renovated monastery, in a room with about 300 beds in it (photos to come). There´s no real type of person that completes this camino, as the crowd seems diverse both in age and in nationality. No blisters or large aches yet, and I attribute this to my light pack weight and superior genetic makeup (thanks Mom and Dad). All facetiousness aside, I´ve not much time to type but I promise, if you are reading this blog, I´ve probably thought about you since I´ve been here! One thing I have a lot of time is time to think. Cheers!

Dear Switzerland,

Our fiery relationship was enigmatic, thrilling, beautiful and charming. Our time together in Interlaken was a dramatic ride of thrills, slides, jumps and ill-timed, late night interventions with young Americans. My alter-ego, Guava, emerged, and he, Guava, carried me through your rocks and glacier water off waterfalls, lagoons and light filled precipices. Off your stones he flipped and through your canyons he swung. Luzern was a pleasant time, and our night-time bike rides were endearing, but I just couldn't get as excited to see you. Like all things passionate, the fire passed, and your grey side was revealed. We tried one last time to make it work in Zurich, a dynamic place painted neutral by the weather and my cold. In the end, though, you were not cheap or strange enough for me. There's someone out there for you. Don't call me, I'll call you.

XOXO
Fede

UPDATE: Added Canyoning photos.

Swiss Canyon Jump

We'll hike afterwards, right? How often are you in the Swiss Alps ready to hike? That's right, not often. You can jump off high things anywhere in the world. Sure, sure I'll film you. You too? Would you rather have pictures or a video? Video. Great. I've found the best angle now. Nope, I am just filming friends jump - I can't afford to do this. No I don't think it is worth the money. Yes, my money needs to last me 7 more weeks. I didn't have the best angle with Josh's jump but now I have it. I stand right here and you get the full depth of the swing and you can see the canyon walls on either side and the river beneath. I even keep the videos to 30 seconds or less to save camera memory. You'll need that space if you keep traveling. Buy a few more SD cards just in case. Yes Australian stranger, I will film you as well. Yup, yup I'm technically savvy, I can figure out your camera. Everybody has some version of the Canon Digital Elph - 400, 450, 550, 650. Just delete some old pictures so I have enough time to film you. Video mode is _right here_, just turn the dial. Photo first, then video. That looks like fun. Darling tiny Swiss girl, you are jumping too? Eleven people jumped. OK we are done. Me? I can still sign up? Yes yes. A reduced rate? Even better. Where do I sign up? But I have everybodys' cameras in my pockets let me just I need to put them somewhere maybe in this bag up here can you please take that down lady to the bottom of the cliff I promised everyone I would take care of their cameras but can you film with mine video mode is right here yes yes I will calm down. 73 Kilos, written right on my hand. This is the harness? Great, three ropes. Yes I'm in a green shirt. Why do you need my shirt color? To identify my body? I'm in, clipped into the swing. Smile. Wave. Dont think just...I'm off, in the air. This isn't so fast. Not unlike my other jumps. I'm still accelerating. Stil accelerating...I'm screaming but I can't even hear my own scream and it makes me want to scream louder to reassure me that, yes, I can scream. I'm starting to enjoy this and now I'm, yes, I'm swinging now and the free fall is over. Swinging through this Swiss canyon, I turn to my new friends and can only think of one thing to say: "It was worth it."

Entrevaux

Its main draw was a citadel, a "proper medieval fortress" as some call it, or "a splendid prison" as I call it, sitting on the crown of a "proper burgeoning Alp mountain" as some call it, or "a splendid hill" as I call it, but these are just semantics, and the time for name calling has passed, so that it is time to describe this place that buries dungeons in its peaks, and reveals courtyards behind its thick walls so that there is something urban in this place, this place that zigs and zags through arched thresholds, this place called Entrevaux.

An Evening with the Elements

Like two characters in an archetypal novel,straight to paperback, accessible, and thick enough to validate the efforts of the reader, the Moon and the Sun faced each other and there was A Great Wind. And as it rose so did the waters, and the People Who Were Brave with the People Who Were Ignorant and the People Who Watched the Brave and the Ignorant enacted a fanciful game of theater, so that the water threatened to lick the clothes off of their bodies, sometimes from below but usually from above, with the night rising from the East and the sun dropping opposite, which might suggest victory but no, it wasn't, and the water churned with such rythym that it was possible to be trapped in its pulses until it was time for the ocean to rest and the tourists to arrive in a spot where people meet, on this beach with rocks not sand and Yes it was entertaining, remarked Yves, and Yes we agree.

Scenes from Nice

I've spent quite a bit more time in one of the great international areas I've seen: the French Riviera. What's keeping me here? Every time I inch towards leaving I'll have an amazing experience, such as spending the evening on a superyacht off the coast of Juan les Pins watching fireworks and eating pizza, or jumping off a 4 story flat rock face, or inpromptu water hose fights on the hilltops of Eze. Its a place that filters through people very quickly, meaning people have to accelerate friendships, so two days with someone means they feel like family. I've no idea how I'll schedule the next two months, as I've considered everything from starting the camino soon to taking a job picking grapes at a local vineyard or as a bartender at a hostel. Now taking suggestions!

Spotted in Nice

This little guy and the city worker were good friends, the cat waiting to see what he dug up from each manhole for food.

From Nice

People not Places

Portions of my time will be about people, not places.

People like Yves the Belgian Michelin-star chef and his right hand-man Hannes, who speaks with an excitement, a contagious belly of a conversation they often are, that cultivates instant familarity. People like Lava the Swedish Masseuse with her Lady-In-Tow Daria, whose identity is shaped parents biological and legal, and their respective islands and provences around the world in Greece, Sweden, Russia and Poland. Kelly the Australian longboard-skater and her partner Jas, a gift to the apartment I'm shacking in, who will sign their French marriage license soon before beginning their long journey hopping around this rock. Stefano the young Brazilian, who will speak to you in Porteguese without realizing he is not speaking English. Karina, the Costa Rican princess who insisted, against the strictest of odds, that she would go to school in Germany and she would have the university pay for her stay. Adam, the soft-spoken, wandering Australian, who frames the concept of "ambition" in a purely experiental mindset. How about Mitch, the Australian surfer, who will straight break your arm if you cross him. Ian, the sure-minded Canadian, who will run your 24 million dollar yacht operation and always be able to tell one more joke than you. There's more to this cast and its characters will arrive in due time.

Lift Off!

Thanks to Stefano from Brazil, the photographer.

Reims/Champagne Caves

A few photos from a daytrip with my cousin to Reims, France, where champagne is produced. Did you know that champagne caves were started by the Romans in the 4th century? Look at the pyramid shape of the roof.

Paris

When he arrived at the restaurant, Adrianne ordered a ham sandwich.

Cataphonics are sentenced structured in a way that the reference, he, is placed before the pronoun or subject, Adrianne. Never gave that much thought? Meet Christina (picture in series), who is writing an entire PHD thesis on the matter. Our conversation, and struggling through Bolano's 2666, has me convinced that one of the consistent qualities of well written literature is the constant challenge, and suspense, albeit as briefly as the ten words within a sentence that divide the reference and subject, that writers can engineer without losing clarity.

I'll leave you with a sampling of the food offerings pets have in Paris:

Brouchy/Muille Villette

A bit of catching up, so photos will have to fill in more of the gaps.

Bonjour

France welcomed me with crisp, clear air and cool breezes ripe for long walks through the farms and towns near my aunt and uncles farm. Wheat season just passed, and the countryside is dotted with stacks of haybails on fallow, dry earth and I thought of a place I have been once, but before my critical eye, whose memory is now shaped by articles I have read and seen in pictures in architecture and art magazines, but not from my memory, except that fanciful restaurant with the two hour wait with a movie about radio flyers and children playing on the tv next to the fireplace whith indoor smoke, which was allowed then, where I ate broccoli soup and old world ambience. The Magnum restaurant, which may or may not be its real name but the name I remember, in or near Marfa, which is home to the Donald Judd cubes. Except I did not take pictures of the stacks or their shadows, but of the fields and the spaces and the buildings I stumbled on which housed Napolean Bonaparte as a prisoner once, and the park with the fisherman or the girl listening wontonly on the rusty park bridge to the trebly music with simple 4/4s, catchy music of course, from her phone.