Arriba, abajo, al centro, al dentro...

One thing the Spaniards are known for, and are rightfully proud of, is their amazing wine. Wine plays an important role in the history and the culture of the Camino. One sign proudly proclaimed:

¨The first guide to the way of St. James (The Camino) noted the excellence of the wines of Tierra Estella. Bodegas Irache, in the Tierra Estella, have been producing noteworthy wines since the 1800s. They have earned their sound reputation and are today well regarded throughout the World."

To celebrate this history, they invite each pilgrim to partake in the wine fountain and share in a glass of wine. The fountain is similar to a water fountain, except that when you turn a lever, out pours delicious wine...

In addition, almost every town and many refugios for the pilgrims boast a menu of the day, always accompanied by a bottle of wine. On our third day on the Camino, Ari and I decided to try the menu of the day at lunch time. Not wanting to miss out on the opportunity to enjoy a bottle of Spanish wine with our scrumptious meal, we polished off a bottle. We did not realize how this would affect our pace that afternoon as we still had 9 miles to go (in scalding heat without shade) until we reached our refugio that evening.

Our first night on the Camino, a large group of Spanish cyclists was sitting at the next table over. Before they took their first sips, we heard the loud toast: Hacia arriba, abajo, al centro, al dentro! This would definitely not be the last time we heard this toast on the Camino.

Late France Entry from Ari's Brother

Ari's Brother Adam joined us for a week of cycle touring in Southern France in late August. We asked him to contribute a blog entry, which is below, although a little out of chronological order...

Calvignac, where we spent most of our time, is picturesque beyond belief, and that the Randall’s home is THE ideal vacation destination. Thank you to Norman and Susan for letting us stay there. Everyone should be so lucky to know them, not just for their excellent French abode, but also for their incredible role as tour guides, even in absentia.

And now for some reflections…

We rode into the past. The French past. We rode through tiny villages constructed centuries ago, visiting fortresses meant to withhold attacks by bows and arrows. We went up hills to towns built high above rivers on cliffs’ edges for strategic purposes. We passed numerous fences made of stones piled high. After visiting so many places, dates allude me. 10th century, 12th century, 15th century – it doesn’t really matter – all of it was older than most of the oldest structures in the Northwest. For Lisa and Ari this was not such big news, having traveled through many other parts of the world just as old, or even older. For me, it was all a bit mind boggling.

Strangely, as we cycled I didn’t fully realize that we were traveling through the past because the area seemed so full of life (save for the 25,000 year old cave paintings at Pech Merle, which, were, well, quite dead). We visited bustling markets that had likely existed for centuries. People still inhabited many of the village homes and many farms were clearly still in operation. And yet, a number of the people we met were originally from Paris. These were new immigrants to the region, not the people you might expect to be living in such a historied setting. Many others were vacationers like us, visiting a France that clung precariously to both past and present.

Still, I realized none of this as I experienced it. It wasn’t until a two hour stroll through Toulouse, just hours before I boarded my plane home, that I realized how far the Lot Valley was from the present and future reality of France. Toulouse too had numerous historic monuments and buildings – all truly impressive – but it was also bustling and multicultural – a world away from the quiet and largely white countryside. I saw few older people and masses of young people. I could feel that Toulouse was a big city, and exciting, and confusing, and quite disorienting for someone who had become accustomed to a very different France – a France of tiny ancient villages. Undoubtedly (at least to this American with little knowledge of France), Calvignac and Toulouse may have been less than 100 miles apart, but they belonged to two different times.

Reflecting on the past and present across France’s geography, I can’t help but also reflect on past and present trips. This was a momentous vacation, not only because I was riding through the French countryside on a rented bike, but more importantly because I was traveling with Ari and Lisa together for the first time.
What we were creating on this trip was something new, something beyond the past. And like Toulouse, it was in many ways more interesting than the past, more exciting, though also a little more challenging to navigate, slightly disorienting. Lisa brought new life to an old Halpern past-time, making something old, new. While I might feel most comfortable in the past, the present is ultimately where I want to be. I would love to return to France and bike through the countryside, at the same time that I want to spend more time in cities like Toulouse. And I look forward to more opportunities to travel with Ari and Lisa, getting to know Lisa better, experiencing travel in new ways. The past is good. The present, however, will likely be even better.

By Adam Halpern

Birthday on the Camino

Four years ago, while we were hiking on the Inca Trail towards Maccu Pichu, we celebrated Lisa´s 28th Birthday. Happy birthday was sung to her in four languages: English, Spanish, French, and Quechua.

This year, for her 32nd birthday, we were on the Camino. The goal was to have Happy Birthday sung to her in 10 languages. I knew this was a stretch, but we were truly surrounded by people from all over the world. We got 8 (if you count German and Swiss German as two separate languages). Not surprisingly, people were extremely enthusiastic to participate.

Anna, a crazy Italian, stood and belted it out. The bartenders at the bar/coffee shop, energetically and loudly sang in Spanish while presenting her with a glass of port wine at 10am. Two young Germans sang their rendition in rounds (similar to row, row, row your boat...). The French Canadians (from Quebec) did a little dance.

All in all, a wonderful birthday.

Languages: English, Portuguese, French, German, Swiss German, Italian, Dutch, and Spanish.

Pictures to follow when we get better computer access...

Roncar and Madrugar

Roncar is the Spanish verb ¨to snore.¨

One of the trying, but also fun aspects of the pilgrimage are the Refugios. The ¨pilgrims¨ set their own pace and decide their own daily mileage/itenerary, but all meet at the refugios at the end of the day. Set up as shelters for pilgrims, they range from cozy hostel style accommodations, to a converted stone barn housing 70 bunkbeds (140 people!). A lot of stories, laughter, and encouragement are shared in these shelters.

The other night, the refugio where we wanted to stay was full, so we headed to the back up shelter which supplied a large platform with mattresses laying side by side. Lisa was lucky enough to have the tallest, biggest, and loudest snorer sleep next to her. He would roll from side to side with great effort, often comfortably throwing his large arm onto Lisa´s pillow or mattress. Attempts to return the arm to its owner were futile, as he would quickly return it to the previous spot.

Then, at the climax of the evening, he began to grind his teeth. Sleep was hard to come by that night, but he awoke with a large smile as he removed his ear plugs, apparently sleeping like a baby through the night...

Madrugar is the Spanish equivalent of ¨to wake up early.¨

One of the most amazing aspects of the camino is the opportunity to see the sunrise over the Spanish landscape each morning. The refugios require that pilgrims leave by 8:00 a.m. and often it is still slightly dark as we set off on the trail. Usually about a half hour into the hike the sun peaks over the horizon. If you pause to scan the route of the camino, you can see groups of pilgrims walking backwards to look east to watch the sunset.