Even so my sun one early morn did shine
With all triumphant splendour on my brow;
But out, alack, he was but one hour mine;
The region cloud hath masked him from me now.
I was surprised to run into Fernando at the albergue, the rather cynical, anti-clerical Basque Spaniard whom I left in Santander about to catch a train back home to San Sebastián, I thought, but no, he must have just been avoiding the crowded albergue and the industrial trek the next day, and had taken a train to a stop on the Camino down the line, for here he was, still walking. We had an excellent meal together, he and Preben and I, -- lentils and rice, brochettes, and ice cream -- for he had learned of the cook's reputation at the restaurant, and he regaled us with alarming details of the Spanish economy.
Sorry to harp on about gum trees, but today I walked over hills where no natural vegetation remained, the gum trees were all triumphant, and as I walked through the forest I heard the snarl of a chain saw, and there they were, twelve-foot lengths of eucalyptus being loaded onto a truck, for what purpose I do not know, but I shall find out.
For much of the day, I was passing back and forth around and under the autoroute. These super highways have been within sight or hearing much of the time on this walk, and they cross the narrow valleys leading down to the sea on huge viaducts mounted on pillars one to two hundred feet tall. I remember these being built when I walked in 2003, huge construction projects financed by European money. Fernando assured us that, unlike other instances of corruption and mismanagement, this had been money well spent, for it had enabled Spain to export its products to the rest of Europe. I imagined, however, how local farmers must have felt when their idyllic natural setting was destroyed by these bands of concrete which spanned the valleys. This is perhaps the ugliest picture I have included here, but it's the view the locals have to live with.
I noticed along the way that some of the Camino plaques had been prized off their their stone or concrete stands, presumably by pilgrims wanting to keep them as souvenirs. This is a despicable practice, since they have peen put there, probably by volunteers, for the benefit of us all, to show us the way. I hope the culprits feel pangs of guilt every time they see them in their living room. Or if they are religious, and they were expecting to be forgiven a certain number of days in purgatory for finishing the Camino, then I pray that these days be reinstated, and doubled. Or perhaps there is a special place in Dante's Inferno for pilgrims who filch on their comrades.
And while I'm on the topic of despicability, I find it disgusting that our prime minister is musing over banning the wearing of the niquab by public servants, a non-issue that he is using for crass political purposes. Just as only one or two women have wanted to wear the garment at a citizenship ceremony, their right according to our constitution, it is even less likely to be worn by public servants. Not only may raising this issue evoke anti-Islamic sentiment, it may also provoke someone to wear the niquab, just to assert her right to so. Recently a woman was attacked for doing just that. How this government is changing Canada for the worse! Please read Sheema Khan's piece in today's Globe.
As you may have guessed, I'm keeping up with the news through my Globe and Mail app, and perhaps, if I can find Wifi, I will watch the election results on the nineteenth beginning here in Spain at three in the morning.
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