Entries about mountains

Our next stop on the Camino was Estella-Lizzara, a town that came into being when in the 11th century the influx of pilgrims who started travelling to Santiago de Compostella via Camino Frances grew in large numbers. It is a beautiful place between mountains and plains of Navarra, which became a commercial hub because the Jews settled in this area and even today, strolling its narrow old streets, you will find traces of french and jewish influence, the Jewish Quarter, its flourishing commercial life, the weekly market which attracts many visitors.



The Hospitallers of St. John, created by Knights Templar, influenced the developments of many villages and hamlets where pilgrims were housed and comforted on their way to Santiago and one of the first hospitals was built in Estella and in nearby village of Irache.

Estella-Lizzara is also famous for its bridges. River crossings were among the many challenges facing the medieval pilgrim, and bridges were constructed to make the river crossing more safer. Aymeric Picaud a 12th-century French scholar, monk and pilgrim, describes his experience on his pilgrimage to Santiago in his Iter pro peregrinis ad Compostellam, a practical guide book for pilgrims written in the mid-12th century. Dividing the journey in to 13 stages, Picaud describes relics and shrines, promoting some and trashing others as bogus, and includes colourful descriptions of the local inhabitants. The general message to pilgrims is that the further they travel, the more barbarous are the people they will encounter. Not a very encouraging message if his idea was to promote pilgrimage to Santiago.

Early the next morning, we left our hotel in Pamplona, walked down the street and in a bar near the town hall had a breakfast of toasted bread with olive oil and fresh sliced tomatoes sprinkled with oregano, semi cured cheese and two cups each of hot Spanish coffee. It was delicious. The rain had stopped and the air was fresh with a bite to it. We started walking out of the city, following the signs of Scallop shell, the emblem of Santiago de Compostela. After one km. or so, we came to the edge of the city and the road became a street and then a track going uphill. And it started to rain again. Luckily there was a restaurant nearby and we ran to it and had one more coffee until the downpour became a drizzle. But dark rain clouds still hovered over the horizon, threatening us with another shower if we did not immediately start our journey.

We started our trek uphill, it was humid and hot, the backpack although it was less than six kilos, weighed a ton. The rural track, strewn with stones, not pebbles but good sized rock stones, went up all the way. Holly smoke! I thought, we are not pilgrims, we are here for a morning walk, why this test of our faith laid bare on the rocks? My wife also was distressed and we thought of going back the way we had come, but our determination took hold of our wavering thoughts and we continued onward. To be honest, going back on that treacherous way down, would have been equally hard. We soon learned that on the Camino, there was no way of going back, one simply had to go on.

After going uphill for about 2500 meters, the track levelled out, and we came to a halt. A tree had fallen upon the ground, from one bank to the other of a rivulet swelled up by the recent rains. In order to continue our journey, we had to climb a mound of mud bank, walk over the tree trunk to reach the other side of the rivulet, which was presuming to be a stream. Every thing was wet and slimy and I tried to grasp the tree trunk with my hands, but slipped and fell into the muddy water. My wife helped me climb back and I tried to help her walk over the tree trunk, but the tree was so slippery and our boots full of the mud that we both once again slipped down in the muddy water. Without another word, my wife picked herself up and waded the few metres to reach the other side and climbed up, holding some branches of the tree. I followed. My chance of picking her up in my arms like Tarzan and bringing her safely to the opposite side faded.

We cleaned our boots as best as we could, with the leaves of the tree and with the grass growing on both sides of the track and continued uphill and suddenly we were up on top of the mountain and could see the signs of civilisation in the form of a village, silhouetted against the sky. The sky had cleared too and we saw a group of pilgrims on the other side of the mountain top, going down too. Some were walking, with long staffs in their hands, others were sitting astride horses and donkeys, followed by dogs, with flags of their faith on long poles, waving in the wind. All were silent, the men as well as the animals. Perhaps they too had sighted the village in the distance and were, like us, anxious to reach it, find accommodation, feed their mounts, wash clothes and then sit down and have a glass or two of the local wine and break bread with olives and olive oil, cheese and chorizo. And in silence lay down upon bunk beds and slumber or sleep of the weary traveller, with aching limbs and be up early in the morning to continue on their journey north. We all were on the Camino del Perdon.

The Silent Journey

We said hola! bueno dias (hello, goog morning) to our silent fellow travellers, but received no response, they all seemed to be absorbed in their own thoughts, so I murmured Vaya con Dios (go with God), and continued our way down and were soon on the edge of the village. We calculated that we had barely done 10-12 kilometres, whereas it was our intention to do at least twenty kms. every day. It was late afternoon when we reached the village which was called Uterga (province of Navarra) and the Albergue, a private place run by a family of welcoming hosts.

We took off our dirty boots, slid off our backpacks and sat down on the floor outside. To our surprise there already were many other travellers inside the place, mostly females (young and middle aged) some were unpacking their things on the bunk beds, others washing clothes or hanging them on the lines outside in the patio. There were 18 bunk beds and charge was 10 euros per person. We handed our Credenciales which were duly stamped, paid the money and settled down until there was a chance to do the same chores, shower and rest. The albergue also had a restaurant so later we went in and had some food. The day was turning into evening and in the dormitory all was quiet, so we also went in, changed our clothes and lay down on the bunk beds to sleep. It was our first day on the Camino de Santiago.

Last night when we returned to the hotel, the extra mattress promised by the hotel people was not in the room. When I tried to switch on the table lamp, I found that the light bulb was broken, neither the radio nor the T.V. were working. So Alex went down and asked them to please bring the mattress and replace the light bulb and fix the radio and the T.V. After some delay the student/worker came up with a rubber mattress, a bed sheet and a pillow and put it down on the floor. He told us that they did not have a spare light bulb to replace the broken one, and every thing will be fixed on the morrow, as it was late and no electrician would come that far from the city. When I asked him, he confessed that he was not a university student but working as an all job man, also sleeping on the floor until the place was refurbished.

The night some how passed, when I awoke early in the morning, the sun light was streaming in through the window, the curtains were thin and transparent and soon the room was hot.

A sea view

The View from the window
We got up and got ready. From the kitchen below they brought us a tray of fresh fruit and orange juice, toast & marmalade and coffee and as you can see from the photos, it was a nice breakfast, which refreshed us.

Breakfast for two

The Sun over troubled water

Cancún is divided in two parts, La Ciudad Cancún and La Zona Hotelera. We had found this to be in Tulum too, zona hotelera exclusively for the tourists. Although by Mexican law, as it is in Spain also, all people have the right of access to the beach, to walk and swim. However we had seen the day before that this will not be possible, all the resorts in this area were patrolled by security guards, who would not even permit us to go near and talk to them. There was no access to the beach. So we decided to go to the city (La Ciudad Cancún), have a look at the local fruit and vegetable markets and afterwards, take a bus and visit the various beaches which lie on that side.

So we took the bus which dropped us at the main bus station where we had arrived. From there we walked downtown (El Centro), the Avenida Tulum which is a wide street, full of shops, restaurants and banks. Alex changed some Euros for Mexican Pesos and we had a cup of coffee at 7/11, the American chain of mini stores and we window shopped but there was really nothing of interest to buy. Same brands of clothes and shoes, thanks to globalisation, have invaded all the countries and I personally get sick to see Starbucks, McDonald and KFC infesting even South East Asian countries. It is alright that these companies operate in the north and south American markets, but super malls and hyper markets owned and run mostly by U.S.A companies is intolerable. That is my view.

After walking more than a kilometre, we reached the municipal market 28. Outside the market were vendors with carts, selling fresh orange and coconut juice and and cold "Chaya" flavoured water.I was told that was a nutritious plant which is used in preparing many other recipes. Alex had a glass of fresh coconut juice and I had Chaya flavoured water. To tell the truth, it tasted like ginseng.

Although it was noon, the place was full with diners at various restaurants there. I looked at the menu of three restaurants, at the plates of food on the tables of diners, to see what the favourite dish was. The traditional dish of Pescado a la Tikin-Xic, fish marinated with annatto(a common yellow food colouring, which is a substitute for saffron and gives a rich colour to the food), sour oranges, peppers, tomatoes, red onions, and spices, seemed to be the popular dish. This fish is grilled over charcoal, wrapped in banana leaf, and soaked in beer and olive oil. And served with a side dish of vegetables.

On the menus were also the typical cuisine from Yucatan, "Relleno negro( a dark mole paste made from many spices, to prepare chicken, pork or turkey) and "Cochinita Pibil" , a recipe consisting of pork prepared with annatto and sour orange, sliced and accompanied by red onions and black beans, eaten with corn tortilla or tacos.

We chose a small family run restaurant , which was full of locals, and had to wait about fifteen minutes for a table to be free. Alex ordered Pescado a la Tikin-Xic, and I chose a bowl of Sopa de Lima, a very tasty and light chicken broth, served with shredded chicken, deep fried tortilla chips, and Mexican lime juice and a plate of grilled shrimps with yellow rice, vegetables and onion salad. I tasted a little of the fish and found it quite heavy, as if it had been cooked with butter. But it was fresh, firm and looked very good sitting on the plate. Alex enjoyed it.

It was late afternoon when we finished and walked back to the bus station. Since we could not decide whether to head for the beaches or finish visiting the shopping centre in Zona Hotelera, we decided on the latter and took another bus to go there. As we had suspected, the whole area was nothing but hotels, shopping malls, fast food and big name business. During the two days we had seen nothing of any tourists anywhere and it was the same in this vast area dedicated to shoppers. Almost all the places were empty, low season or the threat of violence in the north, which at that time had the whole country in the grip of fear, had done much harm to the economy of Mexico and we could feel it in Cancún too.
In the evening when we returned to the hotel, the light bulb had been changed in the room but the T.V. set had not been fixed. I did not fancy the idea of another night sleeping on the floor either. We decided to go to the Isla Mujeres next day.