O tortilla,
Never feah.
Thou wilt not stay upon the plate, forgotten.
Come what may,
I'll start my day
With thee, for verily, I am besotten.
A day that begins with tortilla and ends with pulpo is a very fine day indeed.
Here is a tip for anyone spending the night in Santillana. Find a companion, seek out the private Albergue Solar de Hildalgos and ask for a room. This albergue is housed in a huge medieval building furnished lavishly with antique ornaments and statues. For €6.50 more than the cost of a bunk in the dorm, we enjoyed a huge room with sheets and towels and bathroom, and an abundance of outlets for the devices, all the things lacking in a dorm. A huge beam supported ancient rafters.
Following breakfast at a cafe outside the medieval town, we took a short cut up the highway.After yesterday's gruelling walk, I marched up the hill at a more leisurely pace and found myself singing, Exaudi, exaudi, orationem meam. Ad te, ad te..., a slower movement than the Dies irae.
Why is it that the solemn requiem mass has been set by composers to music that is so joyful? How could the music be so much at odds with the text? I have this theory that this glorious choral music saved Christianity from the puritanical practices of the Church. How could you live on your knees waiting for the next life when the music was telling you to get up and live joyfully in the present? The music that was composed ad gloriam Dei, was really ad gloriam hominem.
We rejoined the path at Orena and began a long trek through the fields. We walked down a wide valley with corn stubble on one side and empty paddocks on the other, overlooked by a long stretch of Eucalypts. We passed through several villages, none offering the hobbit's second breakfast that I desired, until we reached Cobreces where I finally got my wish, and the surprise of my life.
Some of you may remember that last year, when I walked into the dorm at the Albergue at Arzua, I was greeted by "Charles!" I had run into friends Judith and Jurgen from Mayne Island who had just finished the Primitivo. Their account of the way confirmed my decision to walk it myself. Well, as I walked into a bar this morning at Cobrecies, I was greeted by "Charles!" and an expression that said, "That old bugger staggering into the bar looks familiar, but it can't be, not again, yes it is!" One chance encounter is amazing, but two? No attempt to describe our incredulity would do it justice.
I walked down the hill, past the monastery of musical monks that follow their order of service on an electronic board they have borrowed from the Vancouver Metro system. I continued down to the beach where I noticed a solitary swimmer, and then up a steep hill and along the stabilized sand dunes until Cornillas came into view. Gulls were seeking shellfish exposed by the receding tide.
Once again the albergue is closed, and we found a room in a pension. This is the town with the Gaudi museum, which I described last year. If you want to read about it, or learn about the monks who have brought an electronic dimension to Gregorian chant, you can go to my posts for September 26 and 27, 2015. I haven't quite mattered this app well enough to give you links.
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