Primitivo, day 1

An early, eager start, even if the welcome mat is not laid out everywhere:




It's Wilbur and his Maaaa-maaaa! Oh, Wilbur, you have taken a vacation in Spain! How handsome you look! Guess what? Wilbur can count to dos! "¡U....no, d-o-o-o-os!"




Here is Wilbur doing his special dance:




Whoa! Glad I am not on wheels!



Yes, up these stairs:




See how alert one has to be? That sign is hardly screaming "veer to the right here," is it?




You probably think I take a picture of every cow I see. I do, but you don't get to see them all:

1. 

This challah look-alike is a light, airy, sweet bread:




Right, I'll go a different way:


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Oviedo

Two full days here, one more than necessary, but now, well fueled with pastries and too much ice cream, I am ready for the Primitivo.


Apparently the good people of Oviedo think a lot. Some of the thinkers did not photograph well, but this lady, may be wondering how to cook all those fish for dinner:





This fisher fellow may be wondering the same thing:




Or maybe they are thinking about something else entirely!

Delighted by the street statuary (more to come), I moved on the the Museo de Belles Artes. The do know how to do museums in Spain. My favorite painting was of Adam and Eve. Do you love that she is wearing high heals and that he has a whole sack of apples behind his back, or could the tree be more laden?





Unintended selfie through the eyes of a photograph:





Back to the street. We love you, Bessie, we do!




The highlight of my stay in Oviedo was attending Shabbat services. At 6:00 p.m., Friday night,  I waited at an umarked,  small building waiting for someone belonging to the kahal to show up, and, indeed, someone did. Upstairs were eight members of the congregation and soon three other visitantes arrived: Frank, a lawyer from North Carolina, and two young women, Eden and Tamar from Israel, all of whom were walking the Camino. Between the Hebrew and the Spanish and the Spanish transliteration, it was quite a race to follow along, but what a joyous, beautifully sung service. The melodies were essentially Ashkenazic, which surprised me, and one woman gave, in Spanish of course, a most intelligent, and thoughtful d'var Torah. What a thrill to be part of this tiny group. Then, after about a two hour service, seemingly from out of nowhere, emerged a lavish kiddush. Actually, we lucked out because it was leftovers from Rosh Hashanah. As Frank noted, this was one time no one had to ask if the tortilla (essentially an egg and potato dish, cousin to quiche) had any ham in it!

The other visitors started the Camino Primitivo today, Saturday, but my starting day is tomorrow. So I went to services again in the morning. Only a half dozen souls, but fortunately they disregard the minyan requirement, so all went on as usual.  I was sorry to say good bye to my "lantzmen."

Just as I was leaving,  the bagpipers (gaitia players) and drummers were beginning outside in the square!




After a while, they took the show on the road:





Many shops selling all manner of delicious things to eat. The sausage did smell good:




Speaking of food, I was hunting and gathering today and, inter alia, was seeking out some walnuts. At the local Corte Ingles (a HUGE department store), I did find two possibilities. One batch was imported from Chile, the other claimed origin in Moldvia! I swear! Could these possibly be pre-World War I vintage? Probably not, but I opted for the Chilean nuts, which turned out to be spectacularly good!

In the park was a large pond:





No one guessed John Adams, but you won't have trouble recognizing Woody!!





Oh, NO! 🔥💥😖💦⚡️I can't believe I forgot my clothes!!



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Gijon

The hotel in Villaviciosa, Carlo I, which, I learned, is Carlos el primero not Carlos uno, seemed a bit sketchy, but other than the thin walls about which I did report, it had some delightful and quirky features.  This lamp, e.g.,:

Someone has had a complete makeover and gained a little weight:

After bidding this hostlery adieu, I joined my bag for the ride to Gijon, pronounced as if with two chets, and if you don't know Hebrew, just cough out two syllables and it will be fine.  In Gijon I am staying at the Hotel Marquez de San Esteban.  Doesn't that sound elegant?  But it isn't.  It is perfectly adequte—though I can do the four flights of stairs faster than the elevator— and well located.

My first excursion was to the Museum of the Asturian People.  The walk there was along the seaside promenade.  It was gorgeous.  Museuems of everyday life are always fun, but when YOUR OWN life is old enough to be museum-ized, it is a bit of a shock.

See that meat grinder?  I used to use one just like that to make chopped liver:

No, I do not go back this far:

Even Scarlet O'Hara couldn''t fit into this:

Right near by, was the Gaita (bagpipe) museum.  One instrument as made to look like a goat:

And one, a dress:

The outdoor displays were very good, even though I have seen a number of these structures in real life.  Close up you can always see more:

And you can go inside to marvel at what people cando with sticks and mud.  It is impressive:

I was trying to remove this picture, but the app wouldn't let me.  I had intended to put Alex to thte test here, only now I am not quite sure just who this dude is:

How could one not walk along Gijon's gorgeous beach?

Intermezzo

I will cease complaining about BlogPress, both its iPad and on-line versions except to tell everyone out there who might be thinking about it, FIND ANOTHER WAY! It is the clunkiest app ever. You would all probably use Facebook, but I can't deal with that for other reasons.

The hotel in Colunga was modest, to say the least, and I would not have minded except that the walls were so thin that in the wee hours I was awakened by my neighbours who were, shall we say, enjoying themselves mightily.

A big surprise awaited as I headed out, hopefully towards Villaviciosa, the weather had changed dramtatically. It was cold! Oh joy! I get to use my whole other wardrobe. Switching from the lightweight, 3/4 Northface pants to the sturdier Mountain Hardware hiking pants will be great because the former have only one pocket for my too many papers, whereas the latter have more pockets to allow for categorization of maps and instructions from "most likely useful" (left leg pocket) to "not likely useful" (right side pocket, leaving the right leg pocket for "undecided usefulness." I feel better already! Also, I have not yet needed my rather ugly-colored Pertex wind jacket, a replacement for the pretty-colored Pertex wind jacket that I lost last year and for which I mourned excessively.

The stretch from Colunga to Villaviciosa was, for me, the last stage of the Camino Norte, The first two-thirds of which was like walking through the pages of a picture book. The landscape was stunningly beautiful: deep valleys, graceful rises, mountains in the background, animals grazing, the mist evaporating. With little exception, one day has been a greater feast for the eyes and ears than the previous.

Leaving Colunga one sees early deliveries on door handles:





Didn't check to see if it works:



See this marker?



In case I have not pointed it out already, on all of the Caminos the end of the shell where the lines come out point to the direction one is supposed to walk, but in Asturias, the end where the lines converge points the way. It is so like Schlemiel going to Warsaw. One needs one's wits about one at all times.

Here, too, a kid needs a hoop:




A little extra storage space is always useful:




I got to see a lot of the A 8 today. From underneath:




From above:



From on top:



Tomorrow, if I were doing things by the book, I would be walking 32K to Gijon, but I am not. Instead I ride with my luggage and sightsee. Feeling only mildly guilty.

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Location:Calle del Marqués de San Esteban,Gijón,Spain

One day is more gorgeous than the last

And today was no exception. Not a shabby beginning to a walk, wouldn't you agree?




(Does Yale Crew practice here?)


An exterior mural on a rural dwelling:



And another:





One of those, "I don't know why I am taking a picture of this, but I just love it:"




Pleasant sounds: birds, cow bells, roosters, waves, rivulets, chatter, occasional singing, pigs grunting, cows bellowing, sheep bleating. Sounds not so pleasant: dogs barking, lots of dogs barking, traffic.


I had not expected the deluge yesterday and the weather report predicted rain again today, albeit not so heavy. I was prepared....rain pants, gaiters (some paths were reputed to be very muddy), maps in the waterproof case, everything buried in one Sea to Summit bag or another. Not a drop fell.


The rain from yesterday allowed for footprints in the sand where others did tread earlier in the morning:




One does want to be a good citizen, and yes, of course I would have closed the gate as asked:




had only there been one.


All rivers flow to the sea:





Sometimes there are mixed markings. At one such junction while I was deliberating, knowing that whatever I decided I was likely to be wrong, I did see a person heading up the way I was not going to go. I lost not a second but ran in pursuit to ask about the route. Who should this trailblazer be? Why Ingunn (now without her daughter who already has flown off to India in search of other adventures). We continue on together, stopping for lunch beside this tiny bridge:




I stay in Colunga and we say good bye as Ingunn heads off to the next albergue. I have enjoyed knowing her; she has been one of the delights of the walk.

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It RAINED today!

Ohmygod, did it rain, and it was a 31K walk, which clocked in at a few steps short of 36K. Breakfast was at 9:00, absurd on such a long day, so we left at 7:00 a.m., in the dark.  Don, however, had gone out last night during which excursion he found a cafeteria that was "open at 6:00 a.m." and he also discovered the way out of town.  No cafeteria in the parts of Spain I have been in opens at 6:00 and this one did not either, nor did it open at 7:00.  So coffeeless, we headed out to the next town, which also was asleep close to 8:00.

Not long after this disappointment, it started to rain.  While I was donning my gear, Don took off and disappeared.  It started to rain hard.  One keeps going.  The scenery was gorgeous, mind you, but a hot drink would have been nice.  It started to POUR!  Finally, at 11:00 a.m., hungry and needing caffeine, I stumbled upon a local hangout for very old men where two cafes con leche and two tostadas con mantequilla y marmelade later and the use of the aseos, me animaron (got me up and going).

The route was described as being a 2 for waymarking, and I forget what for difficulty.  Who wrote this book!  The waymarking was sparse and faded, non existent in crucial spots, and the route was tricky with all manner of varients. The rain was relentless, poundingly heavy at times, as in it could not have been heavier.  The paths were difficult to navigate and by the time I arrived in Ribadesella, the streets were rivers.  I indulge not in hyperbole here.  Never have I walked through city streets with water almost 2 inches high.

I find a bakery and buy a delicious, crusty loaf and a hazlenut tart.  The salesgirl wraps up the purchases in an extra plastic bag.  Sopping wet, I arrive at my hotel, a most elegant, ornate edifice.

 I, however, am sent across the street to the annex. The annex is not gracious or elegant but the room is modern and very large.  It will more than do since there is ample room to spread out all the wet things.

Speaking of wet, which I have not stopped doing becasue it is so very very today, I decided before shedding my rain gear, I would go to the local supermercado to buy a tomato, fruit and some fresh butter to round out the dinner menu.  The supermercado was taking a siesta, so that plan was dashed.

Back to the room.  A tub!  Yes!  But there is no plug!  An inverted drinking glass serves and a hot bath feels great.  There is also a hair dryer.  Oh joy!  I can dry the crevices and pockets of my pack.  Oh no!  I cannot because the dryer does not work.  Let's hope the air suffices.

I ask el señor of the hotel management about the way out of town tomorrow.  He is so wrong!  But with the help of my four batches of instructions in two languages and Google Maps, I figure it out.

My hair looks so bad it isn't funny!

Don't you wish you were here?  

Another delicious, late lunch.  Turbot this time, served on a beautifully decorated plate:

So much ham, but where are all the pigs?  How exciting to finally meet a couple of porkers!  Here is Miss Piggy with a nose ring.  How fashionable she is!

And here is piggy's, beady-eyed friend.  By the way, pigs do not say "oink."  They grunt:

And here is piggy's polka-dotted, curly-tailed rump:

I do hope that these porkers will not be tapas any day soon.

I take very few pictures of the scenery, though it is tempting to stop often to capture the gorgeous views:

See what I mean?

On the way:

The lantana loves it at this house:

And just across the road, the bougainvillea flourishes:

Shortly after this particular spot, I, having learned a few things from Don about using the GPS, catch a wrong turn and save the day.  I love the GPS when I can use it.

Max, Don Alonso Pirate says, "¡Hola, hombre! ¿Qué tal, amigo?"