Camino De Santiago Day 0 Part 2

Dark clouds were swirling ominously in the sky when I stepped off Estadio do Dragao. The place was rather bare except for the building on my right, presumably the stadium. It was a chilly morning, but my thought was not much on the coldness or the bleak weather, but on my phone battery that was almost running out. I would have no way of contacting my friend’s godfather in case I lose the remaining power.

I have agreed with my friend Ze that I will leave some stuff not needed for the camino-my camera and my mac- with his godfather. I decided to bring my camera to Porto because I promised my friend that I will be taking good portrait shots of him- like I had done to my hosts in couchsurfing- so he could update his Facebook profile.

Fortunately my friend’s godfather received my message and they were on time. There wasn’t anyone in the area so it was quite easy to determine that the new persons who arrived were my contact. After a quick exchange of introductions, I transferred my stuff to the trunk of the car. Ze’s godfather, who also happens to be his uncle is fluent in English- quite a delight since I was used to a lot of non-fluent English speaking  in Murcia- so it was quite easy to share a few things about myself and then of course the planned Camino. He was accompanied by his son – perhaps he was around 13 or 14 – and his English was also commendable.

They dropped me off at the train station (which is quite far from the tram station) so I could purchase my ticket to Valencia, Portugal. I still had 2 hours to spare, so Ze’s uncle was kind enough to offer a quick tour of Porto. We passed by this church which I actually had visited the first time I was in the city. I did not mind visiting the place again since it has a nice view of the city.

Train Station at Porto

When his uncle dropped me off at the station, he suggested that I bring my camera so I could take good pictures. So at the last minute I took my DSLR and transferred it to my backpack. In hindsight, it had been a great decision.

I still had about 45 minutes to spare so I had a quick lunch in a café. I used my Spanish only to realize after placing my order that I was in Portugal and not Spain. Still the cashier understood what I ordered. It was a pasta dish that looked so yummy at first glance yet tasted bland.

Nonetheless the tasteless food did not bother me at all, I was getting excited for the walk. It felt so surreal because it only seemed more like wishful thinking 2 years ago that I would be back in Porto again.  Yet at that moment I was there in flesh and I was about to embark on my Camino de Santiago.

Ten minutes before the departure I already went to the platform. It must be the engineer in me, I always apply a safety factor. Count me to always be in the platform area way before my scheduled train ride.

Train schedule

There were only a few people taking the trip; in my carriage I think there were only two passengers. I occupied the front area so I could take great shots of my backpack with the UP Ikot sign on it.

The route offered a seaside view of Portugal and it reminded me of the rocky beaches we have in my hometown.

  

We passed by a train station named Nine. I chuckled and hastily took a photo of it. I have a friend whose nickname is Nine and I was pretty sure she’d be delighted to know that a station is named after her.

Station Nine

Finally we have reached the station Valença. It reminded me of the train station on my way to Fuji. It was characteristic of a train station of a sleepy town whose probably only connection to the rest of the world was the train station.

Valença Station

There was no electric plug in the station which somehow I have half-expected for a sleepy town such as this. I started walking away from the station. Surely the wall which my friend used as the main landmark to meet should be just nearby. Good thing I passed by a café that had free Wifi so I received message from Ze that their trek took longer than expected and they would be arriving 2 hours late.

I received a message in gmail from my mentor in Toastmasters in the Philippines regarding the feedback on my taped speech. It felt so strange reading that message because it seemed my hometown was a faraway place and that message brought me back to reality that yes, two worlds can indeed exist at the same time.

Thanks to Google map,  the wall was easy to locate. It was perched atop a hill like a lookout. I had to remind myself that this place was useful during the times of conquests in the past. Though I know nothing about its history, it just seemed intuitive.

View from the wall

The fort offered a commanding view of a river which separated Spain from Portugal.

I was bit hungry so I went to have a late lunch – a jamón serrano sandwich and a coke- in a bar which thankfully allowed me to have my phone charged.

It turned out my friend wrongfully estimated their pace because fours hours passed by but still no word from them. I was thinking he probably ran out of battery. But surely if they had arrived he might have charged it already.  After six hours of waiting I thought I would just meet them at a hostel. (Am surprised how I kept myself alert while waiting for six hours).

I saw some boy scouts walking in a single file with a yellow flag and I thought they were probably a group doing the Camino as well.

The sun was already setting down so I decided to head  down the fort and find a hostel to spend the night. This was when I received a call from Ze.

My phone was dying again so I barely heard his instruction to go the hostel. I thought I heard "Teotico" which I recall was a hostel near a church where I stayed earlier so I ran back. The receptionist told me I had the wrong hostel. He was kind enough to point out the albergue on the map.

On the way back I asked a guitarist ( who I earlier saw playing some songs for money on the street) and he was kind enough to accompany to a shop to ask for directions. “Hurry” the store owner told me. "The fort gates will be closed anytime soon so if you pass that way you will reach the hostel."

I ran as fast as I could. He sent me back to the albergue which was actually the first place I originally intended to go. The event reminded me of the quest of Santiago in the book "The Alchemist"

Fortunately the hostel was just a few steps from the wall. I paid my fee to the albergue and waited for Ze to give me my Pilgrim card.

By some stroke of luck he passed by the lobby and gave him my warmest hug. It has been two years since we last met. The trek seemed to have worn him out yet he gave a great smile. He introduced me to his brother, Chico.

They invited me to watch football but I politely begged off since I was so tired. They told me the girls quarters were different from the boys so they would have to introduce me to their mom the following  day.

Ze showed me an available top bunk next to his place. I slumped on my bed and in no time slept.

And that was my first day.

Camino De Santiago Day 0 Part 1

I was having a catchup lunch with a friend who just finished her PhD in Germany.  She was settling down quite well back in the country while I was psychologically preparing for my transfer to Spain for my MBA studies.

"If you have time, do the Camino De Santiago", she suggested.

That was the first time I heard about the pilgrimage.

Camino de Santiago

What I recall from our conversation was that the Camino is more of an offering, a sacrifice for people who walk at least 20 kilometers a day until they reach Santiago De Compostela.

Images of pilgrims who reek of sweat from a day-long hike entered my mind. Surely if I will do this pilgrimage I need to work on the sensitivity of my sense of smell.

After that fateful lunch, the Camino de Santiago became part of my bucket list.

I was planning to do it in July during my summer break in the MBA. But as fate would have it my buddy from Porto invited me to join him and his family for the Camino during Holy Week. Life indeed offers a lot of surprises.

And so much earlier that I expected, my Camino De Santiago began.

Airfare from Alicante (the nearest airport from Murcia) to Porto was quite pricey, so I took a cheaper alternative. I booked my flights to and from Madrid airport and booked train tickets from Murcia to Madrid.

It was a bit gloomy the day I arrived in Porto. It reminded me of the weather the first time I arrived there two years earlier. I also recalled how confusing it was to go to the tram station from the airport terminal.

As instructed by my friend I was to meet his uncle first so I could leave my stuff with him (things that are not important during the hike)

There is something about train rides and gloomy weather that makes me sad. I recall the the time I took a train to Hakone from Tokyo. The train was rather packed and there was this Japanese lady (perhaps in her early twenties) who went onboard and hang on the railing. She was probably late for work as she was still applying her lipstick while clamping a folder in one arm. She looked awkward in that position and looked a bit worried that she might get off balance if the train would suddenly stop. Miraculously she made it and boarded off about 2 stops before my stop.

I recall hearing the cascade of waterfalls when she got off the train. For some reason I really felt depressed that time (as if a dementor just passed by). Maybe because of the gloomy weather. Or maybe because of the sad reality that I will never see her again. And I guess it goes for all the passengers on that train (except maybe for my buddy Gabby who was hosting me at that time). I just felt sad that I will just be a sentence in someone's life pages. I could not  articulate this feeling until some genius guy coined a word for it. Sonder. The realisation that everyone has a story as vivid and as complex as your own.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AkoML0_FiV4

Ok I now digressed a bit here. But I guess I had to capture that mood when I went back to Porto.

In every stop of the tram, a female voice in the intercom would announce the name of the station followed by "Direction Estadio do Dragao". There was definitely a certain nasal charm of the Portuguese language. The girl's voice sounded like she caught the flu or something.

I was not worried that I would miss my stop because it was the last one. The repetitive voice
of the train was like a wake up call for me during that lazy cloudy morning. I was already in Porto and my adventure was right about to start.

(to be continued)

Paying it Forward

So there's this cool set up called Trade School. It works on the premise that anyone can be a teacher and medium of exchange is through a barter system.

Anyway I thought that my backpacking experience in Europe for the past 3 years somehow gives me a little bit of wisdom of what to do and what not to do.

http://tradeschool.coop/manila/

So as a "Pay it forward" attempt I set up a class for Europe Backpacking Tips and Tricks.

I do hope to inspire a lot of young Filipino travellers to take the plunge.

Eurotrip 3 : First Stop Paris

Ok no surprises here.. The last time I updated this blog was 2 months ago. God has it been that long already? It seemed like it was only yesterday that I arrived back from Europe.

As a personal I promised to document the bits and pieces of my journeys past if only to have some basis for my friends who plan to wander off Europe some day.

Like my 2nd Eurotrip, my first stop was Paris. This was an easy decision because the cheapest flights from Manila are to Paris. It used to be Manila-Amsterdam when KLM was still operating here.

Paris did not enamour me as much as before. I guess the novelty has worn off?

My friend Kathy whom I met through CS was fortunately still based in Paris and was gracious enough to meet me and have a quick tour around the boulevard Hausmann area.

I'm a sucker for intricate church interiors hence I was so elated when we went inside St. Michel church.

It happened to be a Friday the 13th that time and we gamely posed with a team promoting a lottery happening that night.

So far that Friday the 13th did not turn out to be unlucky..

Home

Took this shot when I was in Barcelona. There is something so poignant about this scene. The master is probably homeless or a traveler who missed his train ride for the day or perhaps a wandering street performer who sleeps along the alleys at night. Whoever he was, he probably had all his stuff with him in his travelling bag. That... and his loyal companion. 

And his companion, as if oblivious to the status of his master does not care. Sleeping snugly with him, he is at home. And that's what all the matters.

Train Station

I don't know about you, but whenever I pass by a city I try to feel its vibe in the train station. The mood is somewhat exuded in the muted expressions of the locales going about their way.

Like there was a time I was in Tokyo, Japan... For some reason I felt depressed. It was as if I was dealing with humans that are trapped in their own world, going about their own way as if with no purpose. Just the same thing day in, day out.

Of course it could just be me. Maybe I was just projecting to them my own sorrow.

Ramblings

I still have not decided how this blog would turn out to be. Would this be an informative type for would-be backpackers to refer for some information or would this be my sounding board where I need to pour out my thoughts. I am actually more tempted towards the latter. I know it would not bring me the moolah but I guess this financial-requirement has been constricting me for so long. I have finally decided to write because I simply need to write.

That is my strategy at this at this point. To bring back the passion that I once had. When words would just pour out endlessly when I face a blank screen or a blank page.

I am now towards the end of my backpacking journey. The third one. I thought I would have some answers right now. But no. Life has this way of giving you more questions. In the end you just have to learn to live with the questions.