Camino Odyssey Part 1...

Well, here I am in Santiago otra vez and what a week it has been. I should really have been blogging as things have happened but that hasn't been possible so here is a condensed version.

I couldn't shake off that nervous feeling when I left Marbella on the 6th, but as I moved north (and west) all that seemed to change despite the horrendous accident I witnessed involving a drunk driver (at 11:30 in the morning!) only a few kms inside the Portuguese "border". It served to remind me to drive very carefully.

I arrived late at Fernanda's pilgrim refuge on the Camino Portuguese, but that didn't matter. Within minutes I had a plate of good home cooked food in front of me and I was back with my Portuguese family once again. It was as though I had never left.

I have written extensively about Fernanda, Jacinto and their daughter Mariana, but it bears repeating: this woman opens her doors to all pilgrims and for every single one she treats them as though they are not only the first pilgrims to climb her steps but the most important guests ever to grace her table. This time I met also with Dominique from Belgium and the next day, Julianne from Australia arrived and between us all we shared pilgrim stories.

Soon we were joined by Benny from Denmark, and shy Horst from Germany. At dinner, Benny was aggressively cornering Dominque (rather dogmatically in my opinion) about her inability to speak Flemish. Dominique defended herself as best she could, and I added that perhaps for her it was less important than for Benny who felt that one should consider oneself a failure if one didn't speak five languages as he claimed to do. I would have traded her smile for his smugness any day.

It was the night of the football match between Germany and Spain, and to everyone's surprise, the Spanish "selecion" won the game. Horst who was sitting beside me throughout was most gracious in defeat. Perhaps for a pilgrim who had walked from his house it was not so important after all. I who hadn't walked here was, however, absolutely thrilled for Spain. Next day, I was reluctant to leave but I know that I always have a place in the heart of mi familia Portuguese.

The following day I drove directly (finally breaking down and using the toll roads) to Galicia. Along the way I stopped at several pilgrim albergues that would not open until five o'clock, leaving many tired pilgrims outside the doors in the 35 degree heat. I cannot figure this out. In Galicia these albergues are run by "paid workers" unlike most others elsewhere which invite volunteer hospitaleros from all over the world. The latter are open at reasonable hours: that is the sort of time one would expect to arrive when one has woken up before the sun rises and arrived after 25 - 35 kilometers in the Spanish heat hoping for a shower of any temperature and a bunk to bunk in. I don't understand the pedantic nature of the Gallego system.

In Tui I again met Maria Teresa who runs the hospice there. She repeated (as last year) that she had to be the most unpopular hospitalera in all of Galicia because she sticks by the rules: Foot pilgrims first, bicycle pilgrims later, and if you have arrived by bus intending to start the Camino Portuguese at the border of Galicia and Portugal, well, you are gonna have to wait. She said that she appears to be on the hit list of a German Forum and one pilgrim arived to find out if she was really as bad as she was painted! Left bookmarks, my sympathies and good wishes and continued on...

to Muxia. I had intended to walk from Santiago to Finisterre, finishing my Camino in Muxia this year - the last stages of 10 years of journey - but two cracked ribs this year have made that impossible. I stopped at a little shop to ask about rooms for rent and was subsequenjtly met by Begona (there appear to be a lot of Begonas in my life right now. My editor is one, and my publicist is another).

The room was small with shared bath but homely (so many little ornaments and lace tablecloths that I had no room to put anything down on tables!)and had a traditional glassed-in balcony overlooking the street, though not the sea unfortunately as we were one street in. Never mind. After 1200 kilometers I slept like a baby.

More tomorrow.
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Where Has Tracy Gone...?

A very good question and not one I can answer easily tonight! I am in Santiago and Spain has just won the World Cup and it seems that Spain has stopped - a little pause in time - while we enjoy something that this country needs a great deal at this time in her history. Unemployment is at a high of 20% and many people, especially the young, and those in their middle age who have lost work because of the economic downturn in the real estate industry, needed something to put a little happiness back into their lives. For this moment this is it. This country is on fire with joy.

Paul el Pulpo, we love you!

Of course, we are not alone in our "crisis economico". But I live in Espana and that is where my heart and my loyalties lie.

I am "on the Camino". Not walking this year, but if you like you can check out last year's Portuguese Diary from July and August. Though I intended to walk to Finisterre and Muxia, this year I have two cracked ribs and a dodgy hip but not much keeps me away from Galicia for long so I have driven here instead (from Marbella to Santiago as I write). I have a diary of the last few days lost somewhere in the depths of the detritus of Simone, my car, and I am sure I will find it soon. I am planning to visit and talk with as many hospitaleros and pilgrims at as many albergues as I can over the next two weeks after I leave Santiago (I have a book signing at Follas Novas on the 22nd, then east towards Jaca I go), and I hope to report some of my adventures here. So, if you have found me and are wondering what this blog is all about, please do come back!

In the meantime, Viva Espana! I watched the game with the family who run my favourite hostal in Santiago, the Alameda, which is on the Rua San Clemente very close to the Cathedral. They treat me as if this were my second home everytime I come and it was wonderful to be able to experience Spain's triumph with Antonio, Rosa, and their family. And also with fellow Canadian Sue Kenney, the author of "My Camino", whom I met last night and feel as though I have known forever!

I'll try to catch up the next few days with comments on the Camino Portuguese and Santiago today.As we go into the end of the week I'll be reporting what the Camino Frances is like today as I drive towards Aragon.

Stay posted!

By the way, I have just noticed that this is my 100th blog post! What better way to mark my anniversary than with a win tan importante by our equipo de futbol!
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Reflection...

Why did all this happen in the first place? What was it they wanted from Diego? This remains an interesting question and to answer it we have to give up a few assumptions.

First of all, while he certainly performed an ecclesiastic role, Diego Gelmirez was more than just a raised cleric. He was powerful, almost as powerful as the queen, and far more powerful than any single lord of Galicia, the Duke of Traba included, and remember it was he who was the keeper of Alfonso Raimundez, the future king. Diego Gelmirez claimed vast units of property: castles and lands which stretched far outside Galicia. He even owned his own navy: an armada thought to be the first in Spain. Perhaps he was the prototype for that bishop of your chessboard who is second in power only, really, to the queen...

What's more, Diego also had no difficulty with the idea of nepotism. Half his family it seems were under his employ: he used his brothers as ambassadors to foreign courts. One, Gudesindo, he made “villicus” of the town – a position once enjoyed by Diego himself.

One “nephew”, Pedro, was made Prior of the Chapter. (This enigmatic figure of whom we know almost nothing will become a key character in my new book Compostela.) For many, Diego was a hated figure. There seemed no end to what he would do to bring fame and glory to himself, and his cathedral city, but clearly not all of it trickled down to the nobility. If Diego had pretensions to becoming the Spanish "pope", he certainly chose who would likely benefit the most. And who would not...

If all this were not enough, Diego Gelmirez, Bishop of Compostela, turned his nose up at all things Galician; such was too provincial for his way of thinking. No doubt it was to a man who loved French ways in all things. He made key positions available to French clerics; trusted his official records to a Frenchman. And when he made his escape from Santiago in 1117, it was to a French town he fled.

He may have been born Gallego, but Diego Gelmirez had French pretensions. Not surprisingly, it was not liked.
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A Revolting Tale Part 2

Having been promised safe conduct, Urraca was allowed to leave. But there’s no saying what will happen under mob rule. The queen was physically attacked, possibly even stripped of her clothes before being able to escape the city. Diego Gelmirez, who seems to have had more lives than a cat, somehow managed to escape the burning tower, we are told, through the mediation of the abbot of San Martín Pinario. But others were less fortunate. In the fracas, at least four people were killed, most likely including members of Diego’s cathedral chapter. The fire was so hot that the cathedral bells melted in the blaze. So says the HC.

Diego and Urraca escaped separately to the hills outside Compostela. Five armies converged upon the city, and the insurgents surrendered.

Not surprisingly, the queen wanted blood! (or large sums of money in lieu of, no doubt). Diego was more moderate. He knew that the point had been made, and more importantly, he was the one who had to put the city back together. Urraca could return to Leon or wherever she chose. The bishop had to stay and live with the aftermath.

A court was convened. The ringleaders were sent into exile and the remainder heavily fined. For a while at least, Diego could breathe easy.
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A Revolting Tale Part 1...

When Urraca learned that Arias Perez and his associates had disregarded her orders for peace in Compostela, she sent an armed detachment to disarm them and just to make sure that everyone recognised that the Queen’s orders were not to be questioned, she came with them herself. The Historia Compostelana doesn’t tell us exactly what happened, but the attempt went drastically wrong.

The Brotherhood and their militia turned on the queen and she and Diego were forced to flee to safety. They chose the bell tower of the cathedral. It was a mistake!

The besiegers set fire to the lower storeys no doubt helping themselves to the timber which lay scattered around: the building material for the cathedral which was still in construction. The bishop and queen were trapped.

“I don’t know what you're worried about,” said a frightened Diego to the queen. “It’s me they want. Not you!”
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A Royal Tap on the Wrist...

Finally! I'm back with more stories to tell.

Urraca had enough on the royal plate with the Battler without that upstart in Compostela challenging her authority and so she sought to humble her bishop with a little warning. She needed to look no further than the brotherhood who were more than happy to oblige. Diego was suitably “embarrassed”: in fact he lost all control over the town, virtually besieged in is own Episcopal palace.

Of course, he threatened the wrath of God, but his excommunications remained unheeded. Eventually, with rental income from the suffragens effectively cut off, and having suffered continued attacks upon his palace which was badly damaged, Diego Gelmirez saw that discretion was indeed the better part of valour. After 6 months he gave in to the queen, and to Arias Perez who it shall be seen, let this momentary victory go to his head. He forgot the fact that his help had been enlisted by Urraca.

In order to re-ingratiate himself with the people of Compostela, Diego made a big show of translating new relics given to him by the queen as a peace offering. His congregation may have been impressed. But the Brotherhood were not about to give up so easily what they had gained.

(P.S. It's a pumpkin!!!)
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Trasna: The Crossing Place...

So sorry, but I'm still not able to get back to my historical flow. In the meantime, here is a poem for my patient readers...
I like the idea of choosing in this poem. It reminds me that the Greek word Hairesis - from which "heresy" is derived - means only that: Choice.

About half way through the Montes de Oca on the way to St. Juan de Ortega on the Camino Frances, there is a small plinth at the centre of a crossways. On the Camino, of course, one approaches it from the east. It is a nice place for a sandwich, a little water. But then the pilgrim continues on...westwards. Why not north or south? The path runs there too. This place always reminds me that the Way is the destination and that perhaps we are always on the Camino.

TRASNA

The pilgrims paused on the ancient stones
In the mountain gap.

Behind them stretched the roadway they had travelled .
Ahead, mist hid the track.

Unspoken the question hovered:
Why go on? Is life not short enough?

Why seek to pierce its mystery?
Why venture further on strange paths, risking all'

Surely that is a gamble for fools - or lovers.
Why not return quietly to the known road?

Why be a pilgrim still?
A voice they knew called to them, saying:

This is Trasna, the crossing place.
Choose! Go back if you must,

You will find your way easily by yesterday's fires,
there may be life in the embers yet.

If that is not your deep desire,
Stand still. Lay down your load.

Take your life firmly in your two hands,
(Gently... you are trusted with something precious)

While you search your heart's yearnings:
What am I seeking? What is my quest?

When your star rises deep within,
Trust yourself to its leading.

You will have the light for first steps.
This is Trasna, the crossing place.

Choose!
This is Trasna, the crossing place

Come !
Raphael Consedine

The photo is from the Camino Portuguese.
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A brand new traveller...

...on the Camino of Life.












Miss Daniela Perea Saunders was born on May 12th a stone's throw from Málaga Cathedral at 2:40 in the afternoon and weighed just 2.6 kilograms. She's tiny, perfect, and my little granddaughter. She and I will have a lot of things to discover together: flowers, stars, ideas... Her Mommy Rebecca (my daughter) and Daddy Antonio are doing fine.

I'll be back soon...things to do...The past can wait a little longer.
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The revolt begins...

While Diego Gelmirez was a force to be reckoned with, he had a lot to handle with the bourgeoisie of his diosese. As we have already seen, Arias Pérez and members of the "Brotherhood" had ways of swaying the Bishop of Compostela in their direction against the Conde de Traba. Those members of the town who counted for anything wanted their bishop to consider their needs first, even before the building of their cathedral; and they would go to any lengths to make sure that Diego was aware of their influence with the Queen, Urraca.

Urraca was continuing her fight with the Battler - with occasional so-called "reconciliations": meaning that they recognised for a while that a truce was less expensive than pursuing each other's forced from one side of the north of Spain to the other. The Pope had anulled the martriage on grounds of "consanguinity": that is, they shared a great grandfather and shouldn't have married in the first place. Not, in this author's opinion anyway, that they were getting up to any hanky panky and probably never had, the Battler's view being that a soldier should only associate with men.

In 1116, Santiago was not a very good place to be - not if your name was Diego Gelmirez. The powerful middle class led by Arias Pérez rebelled against the Bishop with the Queen's open encouragement. Things had never been very harmonious between Urraca and Diego Gelmirez of Santiago de Compostela. Urraca still had not recognised Alfonso Raimundez in the way that the Traba lord and the Bishop wanted her to. Urraca was a bulldog and she held on to her kingdom with jaws firmly clenched.

With the Queen's backing, the citizens rose up against Diego Gelmirez and made him a virtual prisoner in his Bishop's Palace. Threats of ex-communication were ignored. The rents from the Cathedral's properties were diverted to the Queen and this left Diego with no real authority in Compostela. The few supporters of Diego circled the wagons.
Something had to give.
Or someone...
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And more treachery...

Fletcher (St. James' Catapult) doesn't really know what to make of the coronation in Compostela of young Alfonso Raimundez. He suggests that he might have been elevated to the position of "joint ruler" with his mother. Whatever was the case, after Alfonso was made "king" he set out across Galicia with Diego Gelmirez and Pedro Froílez de Traba to meet his mother at Leon.

Along the way the group and their armies beseiged the city of Lugo which was loyal to The Battler. Lugo always seems to have gone its own way. This time it capitulated and it is likely that a garrison was left there while the bishop, the noble, and the young king made their way to Leon.

But they never got there. Along the way they ran in to a rather annoyed Battler who captured Pedro Froílez. Diego Gelmirez with Alfonso Raimundez escaped and fled back to the safety of Compostela. Pedro was eventually ransomed.

Thus begins six years of rather tedious and "labyrinthine" wrangling between all the parties we have so far met during which without a score card you haven't much hope of figuring out who is on the side of whom. Ariás Pérez who had been such an avid supporter of Urraca when there was a castle to be taken turned out to be a turncoat and he and his "Brotherhood" of thugs began to make a lot of trouble in Galicia for Urraca in general, and Diego Gelmirez in particular. At one time we learn that the queen asked Diego Gelmirez to round up Ariás Pérez and in return she made "a handsome grant of lands and privileges to the cathedral church" of Santiago de Compostela.

Urraca herself meantime was on a serious fund-raising mission in her kingdoms to provide the money and resources needed to make war on her husband who seemed to be unable to understand that his presence anywhere west of Burgos was not welcome. In order to convince him of the obvious, a Galician army pursued The Battler across the Galician mountains as far as Carrion de los Condes. While initially Diego had accompanied them, he was forced to turn back at Triacastela to deal with a revolt which had broken out in his absence in Compostela. This was unlikely to have been the first, and as we shall shortly see, it was far from the last. Our bishop was not overly popular with his flock...
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