Last night's meal was very good. I felt sorry for the one of the French chaps who had joined us, when he explained to the hospitalero that he was allergic to tomatoes! Something of a staple here. He got an omlette instead.
There were three French and a young Spanish couple at the table. They were walking for their first time, and had taken the train to Irun to begin. Since none of the French spoke any Spanish, I found myself caught up at times in having to simultaneously translate from French to Spanish and vice versa. I resigned my new post immediately after desert. My brain needed a rest! Mind you I did speak with the young Spanish couple. I could understand their point of view regarding the 'crisis' in Europe. They told me that "all of us" feel the same way, that there is no future for them in Spain. Here were two young, intelligent people both with Masters degrees and special disciplines, and they're telling me that there is nothing for them. They said that they are looking to leave Spain to try to find a life somewhere else. How sad, and what a problem is brewing for the future.
Moving onto the morning: first thing in my day I was reminded about some of those endearing habits the Spanish have ;0)
The nice hospitalero at our inn had asked the night before at what time we'd like breakfast. I thought I'd be a bit louche and suggest 07:30. She agreed.
So at 07:29 I went down the stairs and around the corner to the dining room and was accosted from above by our landlady, smoking a cigarette on the balcony. "I'm coming now" she said.
Five minutes later, after standing in the dark, she opened the doors and I entered to discover that nothing at all was ready. Not a problem of any sort, I rather smiled inwardly as I remembered that unlike France this was not a country that ran to strict timing.
Anyway the breakfast was great - especially the "cafe con leche" which was a most wonderful reminder of something that I have greatly enjoyed.
I set off in daylight, no pink skies today. The suggested stopping point was Deba, just 15km away. It was a fresh but dry morning with moderate cloud.
Almost immediately came Zumaia, which I passed quickly - a pretty looking town and port.
After Zumaia I headed onto the hills.
Gentle rolling countryside, much like yesterday. Pleasant views and lots of green, and the sun breaking through the clouds. It was going to be another nice day.
Crossing the motorway:
I passed a number of hermitages of which there seem to be many dotted about the countryside, most of them ancient looking. This one (which I actually passed in the afternoon) had a grille in the door so I was able to peek inside:
In Itziar, the next village after Zumaia, I saw a large, square church of a different design. It didn't look spectacularly old but since it was open (!!) I thought I'd pop in and take a look. Oh my! Quite a shock from the quiet restraint of the French Romanesque!
I did get to see their Madonna though, which is a subject I find interesting because of the cult of the black Madonnas, many of which were 'cleaned' by the church over the years. I wondered if this guilded vision had once been a Moorish queen also. No idea but it was worth a photo.
It wasn't long before I arrived at Deba. I cropped this shot at the harbour - it reminded me of Antigua!
The town is on the very edge of the hills and the path down into the town drops steeply. I managed to miss just one small arrow pointing the way and which small act had a larger effect on the course of my day. I continued down into the town via the footpaths. A town of this size it's always going to be an easy task to pick up the trail again.
I passed Eroski - Spain's answer to Tesco. Since Spain (technically I'm still in Pais Basco, they don't consider it Spain) has proved thus far to be almost as expensive as France for accommodation, I was determined to start saving money by cooking my own food. So I popped in and bought a few supplies. I then headed on into the centre of town carrying my small bag of shopping. A bit of asking around and I was in the Tourist office enquiring about the local albergue. I was told that it didn't have a kitchen. Oh dear, and I've just bought my supper.
I enquired about anything other possible local accommodation (for pilgrims. NOT a hotel or chambre d'hôte). There was nothing.
So, as a result of missing the small arrow above, and of then passing a supermarket and buying my supper, I decided that the best option was to head on to Markina - a mere 22km away and over a couple of reasonable climbs. Hey - I never said I was sensible!
I went towards the harbour wall where a very friendly policeman pointed out the precise way out of town and up the opposite hill, and then sat down to eat some of the food I'd just purchased. LIghten the load and have lunch at the same time. And hey - why not just bung a couple more kilos in the rucksack, just in case it wasn't heavy enough?
The sun stayed out, and feeling refreshed from my short break I headed off towards Markina. The hill went straight up and climbed for the next couple of km. It leveled out somewhat and I walked through another lovely old, peaceful forest. I tend not to post photos of them because perhaps trees look like trees look like trees. But in fact all of these places have their own feel and atmosphere. I come to enjoy a new forest. New trees, different paths, all very shady and great for walking.
I also passed a few of these much older waymarkers. No idea how old this one is - there was some form of script below but it was too damaged to read. I imagine I was now walking on a genuine ancient section of the camino:
The next climb came - a gentle one. Up it went and on. And on. And on. And on. I thought maybe it was uphill all the way to Markina! It wasn't especially high (just 350 metres or so) but the climb went on and on.
Finally it levelled out and I found some distance marking. Just 10km left of my day. I had been determind when I left Deba that I would get a bit of a move on, to avoid arriving here very late (when one basically has just enough time to shower, wash clothes, eat and then sleep).
I pushed on and arrived in Markina-Xemein at 17:00, passing on my entrance this old church and adjoining hermitage. I hadn't realised it was open but wish I had. I found out later that this singularly square church was built over two enormous rocks that take up most of the interior and provide a setting for the calvaire. Oh well never mind - can't see everything I guess.
A four and a half hour slog to cover 22 hilly kilometres. It was worth it. I found the Albergue and it is another 'donativo', which means that I confirmed my financial gain by being able to make just a small donation. I'm hoping to find a few more places like this on the route. Thus far (with two exceptions) the prices for accommodation have been on a par with France which I tend to feel, while not hugely expensive, does risk making the camino an expensive undertaking.
Markina has some of the old town left (just):
Anyway, all is well. I'm comfortably installed, have eaten my fresh pasta and yoghurts, and am now going to settle down for a couple of hours with my book. Tomorrow is a reasonable stage of just 24km.
There were three French and a young Spanish couple at the table. They were walking for their first time, and had taken the train to Irun to begin. Since none of the French spoke any Spanish, I found myself caught up at times in having to simultaneously translate from French to Spanish and vice versa. I resigned my new post immediately after desert. My brain needed a rest! Mind you I did speak with the young Spanish couple. I could understand their point of view regarding the 'crisis' in Europe. They told me that "all of us" feel the same way, that there is no future for them in Spain. Here were two young, intelligent people both with Masters degrees and special disciplines, and they're telling me that there is nothing for them. They said that they are looking to leave Spain to try to find a life somewhere else. How sad, and what a problem is brewing for the future.
Moving onto the morning: first thing in my day I was reminded about some of those endearing habits the Spanish have ;0)
The nice hospitalero at our inn had asked the night before at what time we'd like breakfast. I thought I'd be a bit louche and suggest 07:30. She agreed.
So at 07:29 I went down the stairs and around the corner to the dining room and was accosted from above by our landlady, smoking a cigarette on the balcony. "I'm coming now" she said.
Five minutes later, after standing in the dark, she opened the doors and I entered to discover that nothing at all was ready. Not a problem of any sort, I rather smiled inwardly as I remembered that unlike France this was not a country that ran to strict timing.
Anyway the breakfast was great - especially the "cafe con leche" which was a most wonderful reminder of something that I have greatly enjoyed.
I set off in daylight, no pink skies today. The suggested stopping point was Deba, just 15km away. It was a fresh but dry morning with moderate cloud.
Almost immediately came Zumaia, which I passed quickly - a pretty looking town and port.
After Zumaia I headed onto the hills.
Gentle rolling countryside, much like yesterday. Pleasant views and lots of green, and the sun breaking through the clouds. It was going to be another nice day.
Crossing the motorway:
I passed a number of hermitages of which there seem to be many dotted about the countryside, most of them ancient looking. This one (which I actually passed in the afternoon) had a grille in the door so I was able to peek inside:
In Itziar, the next village after Zumaia, I saw a large, square church of a different design. It didn't look spectacularly old but since it was open (!!) I thought I'd pop in and take a look. Oh my! Quite a shock from the quiet restraint of the French Romanesque!
I did get to see their Madonna though, which is a subject I find interesting because of the cult of the black Madonnas, many of which were 'cleaned' by the church over the years. I wondered if this guilded vision had once been a Moorish queen also. No idea but it was worth a photo.
It wasn't long before I arrived at Deba. I cropped this shot at the harbour - it reminded me of Antigua!
The town is on the very edge of the hills and the path down into the town drops steeply. I managed to miss just one small arrow pointing the way and which small act had a larger effect on the course of my day. I continued down into the town via the footpaths. A town of this size it's always going to be an easy task to pick up the trail again.
I passed Eroski - Spain's answer to Tesco. Since Spain (technically I'm still in Pais Basco, they don't consider it Spain) has proved thus far to be almost as expensive as France for accommodation, I was determined to start saving money by cooking my own food. So I popped in and bought a few supplies. I then headed on into the centre of town carrying my small bag of shopping. A bit of asking around and I was in the Tourist office enquiring about the local albergue. I was told that it didn't have a kitchen. Oh dear, and I've just bought my supper.
I enquired about anything other possible local accommodation (for pilgrims. NOT a hotel or chambre d'hôte). There was nothing.
So, as a result of missing the small arrow above, and of then passing a supermarket and buying my supper, I decided that the best option was to head on to Markina - a mere 22km away and over a couple of reasonable climbs. Hey - I never said I was sensible!
I went towards the harbour wall where a very friendly policeman pointed out the precise way out of town and up the opposite hill, and then sat down to eat some of the food I'd just purchased. LIghten the load and have lunch at the same time. And hey - why not just bung a couple more kilos in the rucksack, just in case it wasn't heavy enough?
The sun stayed out, and feeling refreshed from my short break I headed off towards Markina. The hill went straight up and climbed for the next couple of km. It leveled out somewhat and I walked through another lovely old, peaceful forest. I tend not to post photos of them because perhaps trees look like trees look like trees. But in fact all of these places have their own feel and atmosphere. I come to enjoy a new forest. New trees, different paths, all very shady and great for walking.
I also passed a few of these much older waymarkers. No idea how old this one is - there was some form of script below but it was too damaged to read. I imagine I was now walking on a genuine ancient section of the camino:
The next climb came - a gentle one. Up it went and on. And on. And on. And on. I thought maybe it was uphill all the way to Markina! It wasn't especially high (just 350 metres or so) but the climb went on and on.
Finally it levelled out and I found some distance marking. Just 10km left of my day. I had been determind when I left Deba that I would get a bit of a move on, to avoid arriving here very late (when one basically has just enough time to shower, wash clothes, eat and then sleep).
I pushed on and arrived in Markina-Xemein at 17:00, passing on my entrance this old church and adjoining hermitage. I hadn't realised it was open but wish I had. I found out later that this singularly square church was built over two enormous rocks that take up most of the interior and provide a setting for the calvaire. Oh well never mind - can't see everything I guess.
A four and a half hour slog to cover 22 hilly kilometres. It was worth it. I found the Albergue and it is another 'donativo', which means that I confirmed my financial gain by being able to make just a small donation. I'm hoping to find a few more places like this on the route. Thus far (with two exceptions) the prices for accommodation have been on a par with France which I tend to feel, while not hugely expensive, does risk making the camino an expensive undertaking.
Markina has some of the old town left (just):
Anyway, all is well. I'm comfortably installed, have eaten my fresh pasta and yoghurts, and am now going to settle down for a couple of hours with my book. Tomorrow is a reasonable stage of just 24km.
Northern Spain looks nice.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for your comments and photos of this etapa. I was also drawn to this Madonna - personally I thought she was very dark too - and tried unsuccessfully to photograph her. I seemed to remember another image that she looked very much like. After my Camino I chanced to visit Montserrat and guess who I saw there?! Our Markina Virgin or her close relative! Check out Montserrat and let me know what you think. Also, re: the black virgins, have you read China Gallund's "Longing for Darkness"? If this phenomenon interests you, you might want to give her a look.
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