On and off...

Late start today, slept in because....  We wanted to!  As we were leaving the counter man (see previous post) confronted us regarding payment for the room.  We began by insisting with hand gestures and broken Portuglish that we had already squared out tab, and he insisted otherwise.  We then rechecked the booking he saw it was a registration, not a payment, and laid three tens on the counter, which he accepted, and we departed.

Nataliia and I were in 🇧🇬 Bulgaria last year and during the course of our two-week visit we drove a rental car through countless partially abandoned, and often fully abandoned villages. Houses on either side of the road in various states of disrepair, roofs caving in, stone and brick walls breaking away, unable to resist the combination of neglect and time.

We've begun to notice something similar, but not quite the same in Portugal. We walk through Villages where we see houses that have been long abandoned, with collapsing roofs animals that are barely standing. But right next to those we find brand new homes that must have cost, even in the local economy, many tens of thousands of Euros to construct. They have Land Rovers and Mercedes parked in the driveway, well-manicured gardens bursting with flowers and healthy vegetables, and all signs of being inhabited. Right next door to these brand new dwellings, often sharing a common wall, is a house in ruinous disrepair with a tree growing up through the roof and rotted boards in place of windows and doors.

The development practices of the Portuguese are at the present time a mystery.

We have been dividing our days up into three legs. The first leg is from the hotel 8 to 10 kilometers to a first stop where we have coffee and a light breakfast. We then go 8 to 10 more km and stop for lunch and then continue on to the albergue a or hostel where we will spend the night. I started the day on the bicycle but trade it off with my son after breakfast. When we met him up for lunch he said he didn't like it and wanted to go back to walking since he had spent most of his time pushing the bicycle uphill anyway. A great deal of today's travel had been up steep hills, and it probably wasn't the best day for him to have taken the bike. We will try again in the future I am sure.

Three men...

There are three men in the restaurant other than me, the man who works behind the counter, and the cook who is also probably the counterman's father.  The three are arguing at the counter with counterman while his cook-father looks on.

There is a stack of tens on the counter, and a long white receipt.  The three men seem to deny the list of items on the receipt, to which the counterman will point to one of the four unbussed tables and the three men will nod, seemingly having come to an agreement, and one of them will place another ten on the counter.

This repeats for some minutes.  Argue.  Point to dirty glasses on a table.  Nod.  Ten more euros.  The stack is now more like a small hill, the bills on the bottom representing the empty beers on table six, glasses still cool and condensating.  The middle bills are the wine bottles on table to, one of them tipped over leaving blood red stains on the paper tablecloth.  Higher still is the bottle of vodka on the balcony next to the overflowing ashtray.  The final bills, the ones that the counterman finally decides are enough, are the cocktails with little colored straws still sitting on the bar.

The three men leave and the counterman brings me a chilled glass and a bottle of Sagres, and smiles when he says "pelegrino, good guy".  Pelegrino means "pilgrim".

The three men leave, each waving to the counterman, then his father, then to me, saying "goodbye, American".  The counterman then begins to bus the tables and I turn to my phone to record this event while the memories are fresh.

Dungeons, Dragons and the Camino

I often engage in activities that I believe make me a better player of Dungeons and Dragons (DnD) such as horseback riding, camping, martial arts, archery, etc.  I think the Camino de Santiago is one of those things.

I am carrying about 15 kilos of gear, about 15% of my body weight.  We were walking 20-30km a day, not terribly far, and at the end of the day were a mass of aches and pains and exhaustion.  It was so much that a man of average constitution (me) was brought down by it and had to rest and recuperate

In game, even a poorly equipped character would have quite a bit more gear than this.  We left behind our spellbook (laptop) and writing implements (power supply), we do have 100 feet of elven chord (parachute line), we have an ever-burning torch (headlamp), but we carry almost no food with us, perhaps an orange or peach we pilfer from roadside orchard or are gifted by strangers.  Luckily we have an ample supply of gold with which to purchase lodging and food along the way.

Tomar has done all it can to awaken the imagination of my gaming mind.  The massive and beautiful medieval Templar fortress, the souvenir shops hawking swords, shields, armor (real and play), the prospect of finding fellow travellers (NPCs and safety in numbers). 

And on the 7th day...

A day of rest.  Our first week on the Camino has been wonderfully exhausting, we met some inspiring people, but today our bodies were protesting and we decided to listen.  My fever has subsided, Sasha has been sleeping for 18 hours so far, and we are allowing our legs and feet a chance to adapt to the coming trials.

We couldn't have picked a nicer or more interesting town.  Tomar is full of medieval culture and history, and we are about to set off to tour the sizable castle that dominates the humble skyline.

The morning after..

Much of Camino is determination.  Some hurt more than others, some are naturally adapted to it, some are not.  Getting up every morning with the knowledge of another grueling, difficult, hot, rainy, day filled with sore muscles, abrasions, busters and abs and pains all over, and still putting in the pack at 0630 to move onward is hard.

I live in comfort.  I have AC, two cars, a huge comfy couch, a quiet teaching job.  Hardship is not sleeping in accustomed to.  My parents tell me we experienced it when I was a child, but children often don't remember such things, and even then it was American hardship.  Not soviet hardship, Africa hardship.  And Camino is nothing like that.

Camino is spiritual hardship, be a use it is self-inflicted.  We walk by bus stations daily that could take us as far as we want to go.  We cross train tracks that could do the same.  But we don't notice them. 

Today is fallen genuinely ill.  Join arrival in Tomar I checked in and immediately fell asleep.  Nataliia arrived shortly thereafter and we went on a walk around town. Tomar is somewhat touristy due to a castle and some involvement in the crusades, with knights Templar featured heavily in the town.

After our walk I began to feel under the weather and returned to the room to find I had slight temperature.  Nataliia dedicated her evening to my recuperation, and I hope more than anything that I will be better in the morning so that we can stay with the group of pilgrims we have come to know.  Sasha especially has formed a bond with them, and gets along well.

The towel is wet - Day 5 Camino de Santiago Portugal Lisbon

Today something happened to me that hasn't happened since 1980.  More on that later.

The day began as I watched Natalya, Sasha, and our fellow pilgrims start off without me just before 7 am. I was staying behind hoping to be able to acquire a bicycle so that I can continue our quest to reach Santiago. The first store I went to had a very sad selection unlocked saddlebags which would be essential for me to store my gear in. Because it was raining, and in the interest of Saving Time, and because I was being a little bit lazy, I took a taxi to the other store, the equivalent of a Dick's Sporting Goods in the United States called Decathlon.

I was pleasantly surprised. Not only did the store stock everything that I needed but also quite a bit of what I wanted and several interesting things that I had no interest in at all. The prices what about 30% to 50% lower then what comparable items would cost in the United States and they were of high quality.

So, Santarem is located at the top of a hill, perhaps some 250 meters or so above the surrounding agricultural land.  The hostel was atop the hill, in the middle of downtown.  Decathlon, the the sports store is located at the bottom.

The sales assistant spoke excellent English and was able to help me build the bike I needed, including luggage rack, saddlebags, helmet, etc.  I forgot a few things, a few very important things, but we will come to those later.  As he was building the bike I toured the store, and upon completion he added gratuitously lights and a bell.  I was thoroughly impressed with Decathlon customer service.

I left the store and began the climb, a light incline at first, keeping in a low gear.  The incline only increased, and I soon found found myself climbing the hill for the second time (the first being the previous day), this time with the bike that was, ironically, supposed to allow me to ride and not walk.

I returned to the hostel to find the place in disarray.  The night before had been stuffy and hot in our rooms, with a window that only opened a few inches.  Today, workmen were installing air conditioners in our room.  The irony thickens.

I got my gear loaded on the bike quite efficiently, filled my water bladder, and got in the road, expecting to make very good time, as the first bit should all be down hill.  It was.  Steeply, and awkwardly, and rough on broken cobblestone steps that had long fallen I to disrepair.  Descending 250 meters took over an hour.

I traveled through a delightful village at the foot of the hill whose residents take great pride in their roses - pink, white, and red blooms larger than my fist.

Then I entered farmland following the traditional Camino path, but realize that as a biker I prefer paved road, whereas as a walker I prefer soft earth.  Rough ground on a bike is less than pleasant on one's rear.

Corn field.  Vineyard.  Tomatoes.  Corn.  Corn.  Vineyard.  And so on for what was hours for walkers, but was only fractions for me. Zooming by the tall stalks of ripening corn, the budding nodules that will ripen on to juicy green grapes. 

I caught up with the group in Azinhaga and we enjoyed a wonderful lunch of paninis and come I a park where two small children flirted with the idea of interacting with us.  In small villages such as this parents can let their children wander free without worry.

I then stood ahead of the group, finding us room in a hostel, and, grateful of the energy I had saved by biking, made fajitas for the group.  Nataliia was, as always, a super trooper and helped me with the shopping, while we all gathered in the kitchen chipping vegetables, watermelon, and opening bottles of wine while I filled the room with tear inducing scent of paprika and onions. 

We ate on the veranda and enjoyed hours of conversation and shared contact information, having decided that we all mutually liked our fellow travelers.

As cleanup began David, our friend of Austin, found a few pieces of chicken remaining and decided that someone needed to eat them.  He afixed a piece to a fork and approached me.  "here's the airplane, coming Imin for a landing... Zoom zoom zoom...."

It has been 39 years since a grown man tried to feed me with the airplane game...

Throwing in the towel

This is Camino day 4, and I've been having severe ankle and joint pain every day since we began.  Twice the pain was crippling, and I was unable to do anything at all after the day's hike.  The pain was bad enough that it would prevent me from sleeping.  I have been dosing up to 1600mg of ibuprofen daily just to keep walking. 

This comes from having flat feet, and my ankles are pronated with each step, a stress I can handle under normal conditions, but not with a pack.  What kept me out of the army is now preventing me from enjoying the Camino.

We tried orthopedic inserts, we tried lightening my load (thus increasing others'), we tries slowing the pace and taking breaks.  I make it through the daily hike with ibuprofen, but the evenings are simply pain and ache for me, and I'm literally limping and nearly unable to walk until morning, when it starts all over again.

More importantly, it's preventing Sasha and Nataliia from enjoying it.  My pace is too slow for Sasha, and Nataliia is also slowing herself and spending too much energy assisting and caring for me.

So, I've decided to throw in the towel... But only to a degree.  I will be acquiring myself a bicycle today and keeping pace with them that way.  We are in the last large town for 150 km, so it is either now or in 5 days...  Better now.  There are at least two sporting goods stores in town, and three bicycle speciality shops. 

N and S will leave with the others, and at ten I will begin my shopping.  If I'm quick about it I should catch up with them before the next town.

The bike will give me the time I want for photography and exploration, and may be a blessing in disguise.

I guess this Camino has taught me an important lesson...  My limits.

First 30+km day - Camino da Santiago Lisbon

34km.  51,135 steps.

We woke early and left by 0630.  There was a light rain in the morning, but I was still able to capture many flowers with my DSLR.  The walk was dominated by agriculture today, bountiful tomato fields, enormous orange orchards, stands of grapes to the horizon. 

At the 10k mark we stopped at a Cafe to celebrate the small victories, partial though they may be.  Two coffees, a meal of local bread combined with yesterday's groceries.  The late start group soon caught up with us and joined us at the Cafe.  W shared some oranges that I had offered from an or hard we passed, and all agreed they were the best oranges in Earth.  After the snack Sasha abandoned us for his new social group, asserting his independence and complaining that N and I are too slow.  To be honest, I'm too slow, as Nataliia is kind enough to hang back with me at my 4kph pace.

We encountered a small herd of horned cows along the side of the road, standing there chewing the cud, wondering why silly humans would choose to walk when standing still was also an option.  There was a herd of wild dogs, perhaps a dozen, who kept a wide berth from unknown humans.  I had forgotten to mention that yesterday we encountered the most darling little hedgehog in the early morning, no more than a step away, who seemed barely bothered by our admiration.

Wildflowers abound today, and I was thankful that the sun came out around ten and I was able to photograph over a dozen.  I know not their names, but their shapes vary and their colors are vibrant and pure. Someday my mother will help with this, I'm sure. She knows such lore.

Our two groups - N and I, and S with the rest of the pilgrims, had lunch in the same village only a few meters apart, but neither party realised the other was so close. After lunch was a long boardwalk along a river, passing by several beaches which called to us, but we had not the time to visit.  We passed a group of school kids at camp who had just returned from a swim, which made marching onward in the summer sun so much harder.

After the boardwalk the reality of the final 10k began to sink in.  We felt each step, each shift in the road surface, each ounce in our packs.  We had filled our water bags with ice at lunch, and were grateful for the cool draughts.  In 10k I finished three liters.

At about 5k Nataliia turned on the music, 500 miles, which I followed with my rock out playlist, and this made the time and distance pass more quickly.  The final 2k is all uphill into town which was easier than expected, now that we were close enough to smell dinner and feel the bedsheets. 

Day 3 - Camino da Santiago - Azambuja

The three themes today were a large powerplant, still operational, spewing grey mist from the cooling towers, a railway which we crossed at least three times and were only feet away from when a train  going at least 180mph passed us, and verdent green rice patties edged by wild flowers.

Today was a tough one.  Rain again,  a light drizzle from start till stop.  The first few km were city, with busy traffic right next to us, and crossing roundabouts on foot isn't fun.  We found out later that the path had been changed to avoid this road but nobody had updated our electronic map or taken down the old signs. We could have been walking along the riverside, instead we inhaled diesel fumes.

Then it was a long country road with lighter but still considerable traffic, narrow enough that two cars couldn't pass us at once going in opposite directions.  At this point we caught sight of the power plant in the distance.

Rice paddies abound, and the variety and beautiful wild flowers is amazing.  I'm sure the colors and pedals offer variety throughout the year. Soon I will be able to photograph them again, once this rain stops.  My phone can tolerate a few drops, but my DSLR is a bit more finicky.

We crossed the tracks and had our train encounter, then walked by the power plant, the tall smokestacks and massive cooling towers, surrounded by a garden of transformers and an orchard of tangled steel wired.

As we neared Azambuja my ankle began to give way, and we were forced to take several rest stops.  Nataliia is so understanding and kind at these times, and has angelic patience for this broken body of mine.  Sasha, however, sets his own pace and is far ahead with the other pilgrims in our group.

Tomorrow is a thirty K day, our first of many, and will be a long one.  However, it's not a race as we already have a room reserved.  I have high hopes for it, for in town today we acquired some badly needed gear: rain ponchos and some shoe inserts for me.  I hope tomorrow my feet will be up to the task that my heart and mind are set on - an early arrival and a tall glass of beer in Santarem.

Coffee overseas

Every Airbnb we stay at has a little machine for making coffee most of them use little plastic capsules to make a shot of cappuccino, coffee, or whatever. I have to say the calling that coffee, or calling that cappuccino is a bit of a stretch. I'm somewhat of what you might call a coffee snob, but not in the traditional sense.

I'm an American, and I buy my coffee at Costco. Kirkland brand. Comes in a massive tin with a plastic lid, and one of those tins will last me about 2 months.  Hydrangea black, or sometimes with just a little butter or salt. Yes, that's right, I said butter or salt.  Try it sometime, you might be surprised!

Now, a huge number of Airbnb are furnished from IKEA., and I happen to know that IKEA sells a French press for less than €10, which is far cheaper than the plastic cup machines that they usually stock.  I also am fairly sure that ground coffee is cheaper than the instant cups over the long run. My home brew costs around three cents per cup.  And that's America cups, which are considerably larger.

So please, Airbnb owners who cater to American guests.  Forgive us our political indiscretion and allow us to drink coffee.  Not "Americano", which no American actually drinks except in Europe as a vain attempt to acquire coffee, but real, actual, black tar honest-to-goddness coffee.

Day 2 - Camino da Santiago - Vila Franca de Xira

Later start than we planned, left the albergue around seven, not the 0530 we had hoped for, but not to worry, for while albergues are first-come first-serve, we have accommodations at a hostel already reserved.  We opted for a private room, stretching our budget a little, but last night we were subjected to some thunderous snoring 😴 that would have left Thor himself aghast and weak in the knees.  Putting a door up between us and the kind elderly chap will at least be a psychological barrier.

☔ Rain.  Mist.  Moist.  Wet.  That is the first ten kilometers today.  We do not yet have ponchos, or even trash bags, and so are simply weathering the wet as best we can.  Despite being a Sunday, we found a Cafe that would serve us espresso ☕, and are enjoying a respite as I write this.

... two hours later...

The path began with a walk through the country which turned into a more urban and industrial area.  There was an abandoned factory decorated by local artists who were quite skilled in their medium of choice - compressed paint in a single use aluminum casing, available in a wide assortment of colors.

We then enjoyed a raised, dry road through a marshland inhabited by all manner of birds 🐦, bees 🐝 and flowers🌸 .  There is a slightly shorter path that continues through the industrial 🏭 area, but I recommend the swamp with no sarcasm.  There is a little shelter about half-way through to stop and have a break out of the rain☔ , a nice place to rest for a banana 🍌 and some water💦.

There was then a few km along a town road with some traffic 🚙, but no too bad.  This was followed by three km along the shore on a well maintained and decorated path that I imagine is regularly used by locals when the weather is a bit more fair.

Arrival at the hostel was great.  We are getting to know our traveling companions, and were surprised to meet again our Australian 🇦🇺 friend from day one. She had powered on 4.5km ahead after we stopped at the first albergue and I had assumed she was too high speed for us.  However, she dropped back on day two and our daily averages are now the same.  Keeping up with her is a pointless exercise, I think.  Her pace is over 5kph, while ours is just over four.  There is also "Austin", the American from Texas, the retired Italian postman and his wife (who is NOT a towel thief as we may have erroneously expected), the mysterious French 🇫🇷 couple who are often seen on the road but never in cafes or dwellings, the Danish 🇳🇱 couple for whom this is their 5th or 6th pilgrimage, and the chap from the UK 🇬🇧.

Last night I had noticed the Italian woman exiting the shower (calm down, not like that) wrapped in a green towel that looked very familiar.  At the time I thought it was odd...  The towels we had are only sold in military stores, we have two - one blue and one forest green.  They are large, 72"x38", very thin, super absorbant, and quick drying.  They are also very durable, soft, and with reinforced edges.  In other words, a towel worthy of a true Hitchhiker.  That this random Italian woman had one was odd, but not impossible.

This morning Nataliia asked me, "did you take my towel?" I replied that I had put it near her pack after it had dried, and that was the last I had seen of it.  After a quick, cursory search of our bags we found it had gone missing.  This led to me recalling the Italian lady.  Would she have?  I mean, any hiker would recognize this as the Cadillac of towels.  Perhaps I hadn't put it as close as I should have to N's bag, and the ownership of said towel was therefore less than clear.  Perhaps she thought it belongs to the albergue.  Or perhaps... There was a thief in our midst. 

I became suspicious.  We didn't see the Italian couple on the road, and had no information as to where they might be headed, but luck was on our side, and as we waited for our hostel room they showed up, the last to arrive from our group the night before.

We weren't sure how to proceed, so we sure them suspiciously and took out bags to our room.  Everything was soaked from the rain and we had AC so we unpacked everything, strung up some parachute cord as a clothesline, and turned our room into a jungle of wet socks and t-shirts.  Digging down into the bottom of a backpack (whose is not important to the plot, so I will leave that detail out) we found....  Well, at this point you have guessed. 

We had a good laugh and I'm immensely happy that we decided to unpack before confronting them.v I feel we owe the Italians a glass of wine for a slight they never knew existed.

Day 1 - Camino de Santiago Lisbon

We got off to a strong start, leaving our Airbnb by 0545, arriving at the Cathedral ⛪ an hour and 3.5km later.  There we met Chrystal from Australia 🇦🇺 living in the UK 🇬🇧.  She set a brutal pace of 5.1kmh which Sasha easily bested, Nataliia maintained, and left me in the dust.  I do stop to take a lot of pictures, but even then it was hard to catch up.  Within two hours Sasha and Chrystal were far gone, a km or more ahead, while Nataliia helped me limp along.  Hopefully my body will catch up with my dreams soon.

My ankles  are a sharp and enduring pain.  While my feet aren't totally flat, they aren't as arched as I'd like, and the roll over on the ankles with the added weight of the pack is too much.  I'm finding ways to lighten the load even further.

There is a Cafe near the albergue that sells beer for €1 a glass or less during happy hour.  Dinner is generous and filling and cheap.  Nataliia and Sasha went to the grocery while I "watched the bags" (napped and stuffed my face). 

Tomorrow will be an early day, 0530 road time.  It is imperative that at my crippled pace we beat the other pilgrims to the albergue and avoid sleeping outside.

Language and Travel

I've been studying languages since I was in sixth grade. My school system how to add a class that we took the gave us one semester each of German, French and Spanish in 6th grade and we were supposed to pick one of those three in seventh grade - I chose French. In 9th grade I began studying Mandarin Chinese which I continued for another three years. In 2000 I began studying Russian in earnest had a very prestigious Feinberg School. I consider myself to be near fluent in Russian, I at least have a working fluency and  could work and live easily in Russia, Ukraine or other Russian speaking countries.  I have completely forgotten all of the French most of the German and Spanish and Chinese. I still use my Russian on a daily basis.

I also make an effort to pick up basic phrases where ever I'm going, especially "please", "thank you", and "I don't speak X, English?"

It's a common courtesy, when in another country.  Yes, most people speak a little English, especially in tourist areas.  You don't need it to shop, eat out, or stay in a hotel.  But it does a respect for their culture, language and country, the one that was important enough for you to pay to visit, and it engenders friendliness.  They smile as you misprounce words, often because you can't read their language exactly correctly.  What sound do ã and ы make, exactly? 

So don't be rude.  If the person you're talking to doesnt understand you, it's your fault.  Not theirs.

The Re-pack

We are on day four of our quest to reach Lisbon and being our Camino quest.  There has been some re-arranging of our packs, as each of us has brought small gifts and items for the others, and some for the group.  A pair of shoes for my girlfriend, t-shirts for my son and I, and first aid supplies, and indeed some that I would perhaps label "intensive care supplies" that might stretch the definition of first aid a bit.

We have too much gear, and will be shipping a several kilogram load from Lisbon to Santiago upon our arrival in Portugal this Thursday.  We stripped down from 5 t-shirts/underwear combos to only three.  Lightened the first-aid kit somewhat.  Seriously considering dropping some of the camera gear.

A video of the re-pack

First Camino Seashell

Saw our first shell today, quite by accident.  It has got us thinking about our trek which begins in a few days.  This is our first Camino, and first hike for all three of us of this length.  We are now of the opinion that we have over-packed.  That is also the opinion of many other pilgrims who have watched my packing video on YouTube. We are going to have to send a good portion of our luggage ahead of us to Santiago before we leave Lisbon.

The reality of the Camino is starting to set in. We are preparing our legs as best we can, and walking as far as possible as we explore the Spanish cities of Barcelona, Zaragoza, Madrid, Cordoba, and Seville before we begin our trek from Lisbon.

Sometimes I take Pictures of Flowers

That's about it.  If you know anything about flowers, please tell me what these are.  I would like to know, and other people might want to as well.

The uncanny valley of car rental

I've got a history of problems with car rental in Europe.  It began in December, when I had a rental reserved in Athens, Greece, a rental around which our entire three week vacation had been planned.

I have rented before - in Lithuania and Germany. No problems.  It's not until you get into second tier countries that it becomes a problem, then becomes less of a problem as one progresses into third tier countries.  There seems to be an uncanny valley of car rental.

For those of you out there who aren't unapologetic sci-fi nerds, the uncanny valley refers to the depiction of robots in films.  If a robot looks like a robot (Wall-E), then we can fall in love with it.  If it looks totally human (AI) we can also fall in love with it.  But if it tries to look human and fails, it falls into the "uncanny valley", where it spooks us out too much for us to like it.  Thus, the uncanny valley is when you have some, but not quite enough of some characteristic to be useful, and having nothing is better than having just a little.

Thus it is with car rental.  In Germany the government and regulations are strong, international relations are top-notch, and US driver's license is accepted without reservation (but having a reservation is still a good idea).  In Bulgaria laws are more like suggestions, and the mentality of wild-west capitalism still thrives, as it did in Russia in the 1990's, where we all try to do what is right and good but if the law gets in the way of commons sense, we tend to ignore it.  Thus, the law in Bulgaria says you have to have an "International Drivers' License".  I did not.  But when I went past the Enterprise and the Hertz, I was able to find a local company that was more than happy to rent me a car at a reasonable rate, given the reasonable assumption that a 41 year old man who has been driving daily for almost three decades might also be able to drive in Bulgaria.  

Greece, however, falls into the uncanny valley.  Their government is not quite savvy enough to recognize drivers' licenses from foreign countries outside the EU, but their entrepreneurs are not quite emboldened enough, and oversight not quite lax enough, to ignore the requirement.  Thus, they fall into the annoying situation of requiring the IDL.

A few notes on the International Drivers' License.  

This is the biggest scam I have ever seen.  It seems to be perpetrated by AAA themselves, and perhaps even lobbied for in foreign countries by AAA. For a fee of $20 and a passport photo, they print out a document that repeats the text on the back of my valid US drivers' license verbatim in like ten different languages.  And this is accepted in Greece as a legitimate DL, while my actually legitimate DL is not accepted. 

They accept a document from a company that has not verified my driver's record, has not administered any sort of test to see if I can drive, and has to authority on the international level to verify my identity, but they won't accept my Maryland DL.  

Travel Tip:  Pay the $20 to get the fake drivers' license.  It's worth the hassle.  Sometimes doing the moral thing is just too much work.

Travel Tip: Take plentiful pictures and/or video of the car, especially the exterior, before you drive it.  Overseas agencies love to charge for damage that occurred prior to or after you had possession of the car.

An editorial by my legs

Oh, hey Dylan.  It's your legs.  You've been ignoring us for a long time now, all that driving, sitting, driving, sitting.  We get it, you're a middle aged man 👨🏻 with a job and 🧒🧒kids.  Sure, you take us out for a run once in a while, walk the dog sometimes.  But we've noticed in the last few weeks you've really picked up your game.  Long hikes in parks with the 🐶 dog, 5k here, 10k there, sometimes even 15k on the weekends.

But we are a little worried about today.  Can we talk about that like rational beings for a minute?  We just noticed that before 6am you already had 4k from after midnight last night.  Then we went another 4k, most of it up hill, then back down the hill and right past our 🏩 hotel, and on to look at old songs buildings or whatever, and now it's after lunch time and you seem to have come home, you're lying down, and we're resting.  24 km so far today, that's pretty impressive.  Sorry about the aches, the pins and needles, the occasional numbness. 

You have to understand, we aren't used to this level of activity.  You're a suburban middle class dad with a desk job, after all.

Wait.  What are you doing?!  Why are you getting up?  To see a ⛲ fountain?  To see what that old stone building looks like at 🌃 night?  WHAT?  Sit down right now mister. This is your legs and we aren't taking it anymore!  Shoes??!  No!  No more shoes, no more socks.  HOW far away is it?  EIGHT KILOMETERS?  NO!  aaaaahhhhhhhh!

Barcelona, Spain

Technically the day begins at 0000, and at that exact time I was getting off a bus with Nataliia on our way back from the airport.  We had decided to walk the last 3km to our Airbnb as practice for the near future on Camino.  The weather was cool, the night still lively enough, and we hasn't seen each other for months.

There are plenty of 24hr groceries in Barcelona and we got two 2€ refrigerated pizzas that were surprisingly delicious, along with fresh fruit and drinks.

Breakfast was croissants, coffee and pastries with fresh peaches, cherries and plums.  Then, off to the city!

We trek north and uphill along Passeg de Sant Joan towards Park Guel.  The tickets must be bought a day in advance and are 10€ (less for kids, students, seniors), and can be acquired on location or online, but are only for a section of the park.  There is a large part that is open to all for free, and we hiked to the high point and enjoyed a scenic overlook, some entertaining local talent, and a menagerie of souvenir hawkers. We have tickets for the 8am time slot tomorrow, so it will be an early morning.

 

We then hiked south and slightly east to Segrada Familia. The flowing arches and delicate lines of the half-finished cathedral challenge even even Notre Dame de Paris for "most elegant pile of stones" in the world.  I think they will have plenty of financial assets to finish this masterpiece as they charge €32 for admission, an obstacle our budget decided to divert to food instead, as hunger is higher on Maslow's heirarchy then inspiration.

We moved along a path to three other noteworthy architectural monuments, two by Gaudi and another that was labeled as impressive on the guidebook, but difficult to pick out from surrounding buildings in practice. 

By this time we had covered only ten kilometers and we headed south to Mercat de la Boqueria where we enjoyed an astounding array of food, the likes of which I have not seen in many years.  Pig brain, hoof, and leg, fruits and vegetables of every climate and continent, seafood to satisfy the palette of Nippon or Naples.  We sampled sparingly and moved on to our next destination.

Arch de Triumph in Barcelona is brick, not stone, and no less impressive for the change.  A  reminder of past glories and a symbol for those yet to come in this magnificent Mediterranean city.

Arrival in Barcelona p.II

Mobile SIM card found easily - €20 for 15gb over 30 days, so I can be a Hotspot for everyone in my group when necessary.  I find the better deals are to be had at the smaller shops that don't have a corporate office in some distant land.

Food in the grocerystores is varied and cheap - two meals for two people was under 10€.  Every time I see the sign for a SuperMerCat I think of a cross between a feline and a fish, MerCat. ... With a cape on, because he's Super.

Waiting for the inspiration of this whole quest to arrive, whose plane comes in at 11pm. 

Arrival in Barcelona

Travel tip: don't use the ATM in the airport, or, if you really need to, take only a small amount.  The exchange rate is almost bank fraud.

The bus has wifi, nice touch, as does the airport, a real relief for those not yet in possession of a local cell plan. The airport is small, with rental cars, busses and taxis all available right outside the entrance.

The bus to the central plaza is €5.60, and €2.20 to transfer to any bus after that.  It seems all the busses meet in the plaza area.

Drive to the city is scenic and pleasant with good views of downtown and distant hills.

Our AirBnB was easy to find, but my sensibilities concerning addresses were forged in suburbia, and city addresses confuse me.  The building was easy to find, but then it was "3er 2a".   Now, the second apartment on the third floor should be, in my limited world, called "32".   And I wouldn't call it "2A" unless there was a 2B.  But, when in Rome...  So 3er 2a means 3rd floor, which was actually the fifth floor b/c the ground floor doesn't count, and the first floor was zero, and 2a is 2a, despite the only other apartment being "1" and every floor having a "2a", including the third floor (by American sensibilities), inhabited by a nice elderly lady with a small yippy dog who is quite used to tourists knocking on her door looking for 3er 2a, and the third floor (by UK sensibilities, what Americans would call the fourth) also inhabited by an elderly gentlelady with no sort of dog and and, while used to being disturbed by tourists, is quite fed up with the whole business and probably wishes the Anglos would just take the time to learn to read an address properly.

The weather is wonderful, the tap water palatable, and the room comfortable.

NYC in 8 hours

Sasha brightened up at the planetarium as planned.  After the dome show he diligently went around to each hall in the museum, outlast ing even my interest as my curiosity was giving into a baser instinct - hunger.

We grabbed a pair of lamb gyros from a street vendor and entered Central Park directly across from the Natural History Museum, then caught 20 minutes of shut-eye on an unfolded towel, enjoying our own little patch of green in the center of the concrete jungle.

Travel tip: the storage of baggage can be done at stationary and shipping stores throughout the city, or through an app called bounce. They don't do it in Grand Central Station.

After retrieving or baggage we took the subway to Penn Station, and I'm now in a train to Newark Airport.  In five hours we get on our flight to Barcelona.  One of the many benefits of my employment is the use of USO lines at the airport, and we are planning on spending some time in it as soon as we arrive. Happy hiking!

First Post!

I woke at three AM, my hand reaching out during my sleep to pet Doctor, my beloved Finnish Spitz, and coming away empty.  His absence alarmed my still foggy consciousness, and suddenly I was awake for the morning.

Doctor is already at my friend Zach's home, unable to accompany my son and I on our forty-five day adventure to the Camino de Santiago.  He (the dog) is safe and sound and hopefully happy and content.  He (my son) is not happy OR content.

My son, Sasha, almost into his sixteenth year, is not a happy camper this morning.  To be honest, he isn't a happy camper this year.  I write this on the bus to NYC enroute to a hectic day in the city to be followed by a flight to Barcelona.  Sasha was awoken by me at four fifty five, the latest possible moment.  I hoped that allowing him as much as sleep would be the merciful choice, but I'm not sure that any measures would have placated the fiery blood in a teenage boy.  He has yet to eat, which I believe would drastically improve his mood, but is sleeping on the bus.

My spirits are high, and I'm sure that my cheery enthusiasm is just bellows for Sasha's strife.

The bus will drop us in the center of the city, a few blocks south of Grand Central, which is a few blocks south of Central Park, which has the destination of today's tourism tucked away on one flank of the park, the Hayden Planetarium.  Sasha's choice.  Perhaps it will improve his demeanor.  I suspect there will be many petting-zoo-like events in our travels, for the special few what that means.

Safe travels, keep on hiking!