Camino Day Three

Internet access is fairly intermittent, so I won't be able to post regularly.  I've just finished day three of the Camino.  It has been a very beautiful experience.  The days can start before sunrise, but typically we reach out destination by two in the afternoon.  The country side is amazingly beautiful, and the people are very warm.  Spanish people are very social.

The hiking has been easier than expected.  I'm a bit sore, with a few little blisters, but each day gets easier.  We typically walk about 15 miles a day, and the terrain is up and down, along the coast.  I really get to space out a lot, as there isn't really anything I have to pay attention to or remember.  It's been really sweet.

Irun

Well, I've made it to Irun, Spain.  It is so different here.  Warmer, more humid, people look and sound very different.  It is strange to hear so many different languages, and not be speaking English much anymore.

This is the beginning of the Camino.  I've checked into my room, and  am getting a little food before bed.  My day starts early, and I'm supposed to hike 17 miles to San Sebastián tomorrow.  We'll see if I make it...

Gay Parie

I got to see Paris today, which was cool.  Big, dirty city; pretty girls.  Two hours was enough for me.

Wierdness

You know how, when you eat something really gross, you try to get your friends to eat it too?  Don't read on if you get sick easily.

Up till Strasbourg, I haven't seen any homeless or mentally ill people, but Strasbourg seems to be more of a regular city.  The town square definitely had its drunks.  It actually seemed kind of awesome, just being permanently drunk in some beautiful place.  Why not?

On my second day there, I though I saw the grosses thing of the trip: a big, gross man, mocking his big, gross wife, in French.  So gross.  But I was wrong about it being the grossest.

Today, I had about an hour to kill before my train left for Irun, so I sat in the park in front of the station.  There was a man there who I had been seeing over the last few days - totally gone, probably schizophrenic.  He was way dirty, had a bunch of really intense tattoos, and was wearing a woman's tube top, with military pants torn into a dress of sorts.  He was looking pretty rough, and seemed even more intense.

This particular morning he spent about forty five minutes standing in the middle of the park, doing an excellent imitation of one of Hitlers speeches.  Literally, it was like he was possessed by the same devil.  I, and many others, found this mildly entertaining.  Until, that was, he took off all his clothes, and began washing himself with what looked like a bottle full of vomit.  Literally, pouring it on his head, and then rubbing it all over his body.  At that point, dear reader, I had had enough.  Into the train station with me.

Although I did find it as funny as it was revolting, I felt really bad for him.  He was once someone's son, someone's brother, and maybe someone's husband.  Pretty gnarly.

PS - This seems to be a day of weirdness.  On the train, seated next to me, I've been listening to a nine year old boy tell his mother how strong his sperm are.  And his mother approving.  Obviously, they've had this conversation before.  Seriously, what the fuck?

And on...

continued from Wingen...

And so I found myself back in Wissembourg, without a clue what to do.  It was two in the afternoon, and my train back to Strasbourg left at five thirty.  There were no later trains.  There was a bicycle shop down the road, but at this point, it was too late to bike, as it would probably have taken me more than three hours round trip.  The tourist office was closed, and there really wasn't any one around to talk to.  I had already inquired with the bus driver about other busses, and that didn't seem to be an option either.  

At this point, I realized my only likely option was a taxi.  Luckily, there was a hotel across the street.  I went over, and in my very broken German, asked for a taxi to Wintzenbach.  Although it is about fifteen miles away, this didn't seem like a strange request, and they called a taxi with no problem.  It would pick me up in twenty minutes.

The only thing about a taxi was that I still wouldn't be making it back to Wissembourg.  It was expensive already, and that was for one way.  I wasn't going to pay to have the guy wait around for me, while I wandered aimlessly.  Earlier in the day, I had noticed there was a train line that ran about three miles east from Wintzenbach, directly to Strassbourg.  The only thing was I had no idea when it ran, if at all.  My taxi came, and once again, I stepped into the darkness.

I think I slept for the whole taxi ride, caught in a spell-like stupor.

This part of the world was much flatter, and mostly fields, with much less forest.  Not quite as beautiful, and as we arrived, I still felt pangs of sadness for leaving Wingen.  The taxi driver dropped me off "wherever", and I began wandering into Wintzenbach.

My state rapidly changed.  This was the town where my dad's mother's family came from, and for a long time, I've felt I was very much made from that line.  I dream of my grandmother often, and have had multiple dreams of her ancestors.  I felt very connected to this part of my family, even if I hardly knew them.

I hadn't walked very far before I started to feel like I was tripping.  Everything became very vivid.  I felt like the sky was bending down towards me, and I up towards it.  The wispy cloud overhead seemed to be talking to me.  Time stopped existing, and everything was very calm.  The only person I crossed paths with was a man my age in a wheelchair.

The village is small, and I walked into the middle of it, and again found the Catholic church.  It was dated 1722, meaning my family had probably helped build it.  I walked around it, to the grave yard. 

 Again, no family names, but everything was fairly new.  I sat down to take my ancestor's council.  We had food and drink together.  I then lay down and napped for a bit, letting the spirits talk to me through my dreams.  I awoke a little while later.  The only way I can describe the experience was that I was in a very in-between place, but also very comfortable.  I couldn't have been more comfortable.

Strangely, a military convoy pulled up thirty feet from me, in front of the house next the graveyard.  They went inside, and I half expected to hear gunshots and screaming, but they seemed to be just visiting.  I don't know what this was about.

At this point, the spell was broken, and it was time to leave.  I packed up, and began walking east.  The town was beautiful, as was the countryside.  

I was walking towards the train, but also towards the river Rhine.  As I got closer, I really began to feel the presence of the ocean, somehow coming from the river.  I decided to keep going past the train, and visit the river.  It was really nice to cool off my feet there, as at this point, I've been walking in the sun for hours.  The river is definitely in charge around here.

After a bit of well appreciated rest, it headed back to the train stop, so small it was overgrown with weeds.  Thirty minutes later, the last train of the day took me back to Strasbourg.  

Everything had worked out perfectly.

Here are a few more photos from Wintzenbach:

Wingen

(continued from The high dive)

Four euros later, I was on a bus full of old German men.

I got off the bus in Lembach, a small town.  I would have to walk the last three kilometers.  I feel there is a lot of importance to approaching a place on foot, so I was glad to be off the bus.  There was a small garden and fountain in the middle of Lembach:

Typical house, about two hundred years old:

There were two fountain/springs in the middle of town.  I specifically remember them from my visit when I was thirteen.  I stocked up on local water and began my trek out of town:

The road to Wingen:

Two friendly horses.  They must have recognized me:

Wingen appears over the hill:

and then:

A very small village, maybe thirty homes, and the cemetery was right there.  All the graves were more recent, and I didn't see any family names there.  But I did sit down, have lunch and say hello to the place.

The ancestral energy was very strong.  It felt really good to be there.  The area was so beautiful, and the weather couldn't have been more perfect.  I don't really know how to describe my experience there besides that it felt very powerful. 

I was reflecting on a couple of things.  My dad's dad's family, the Flecks, had their roots in this village.  In many ways I wasn't close to my grandfather.  I don't know a lot about him, besides that he survived some crazy shit.  One thing I do know is that I probably inherited my love of walking from him.  Really, it is my favorite way to get around.  Fairly apropos at the moment.

The other reflection was on the bullet holes in one of the grave stones nearby me.  I was really saddened by people's willingness to destroy things that are truly beautiful, especially on arriving in Strasbourg, which is a very beautiful city that has been completely flattened more than a couple of times.   As peaceful and beautiful the place have been while I've been visiting, they have a deep history of war that I can't ignore.  Fuck you governments.

After lunch and a beer, I decided to go for a hike in the forest behind the village.  I thought maybe I could hike to Castle Fleckenstein, but mostly I just wanted to spend some more time with the land.

A couple of shots from Wingen:

I dived into the forest for a couple of hours.  I did find some vague signs indicating that I could get to the castle, but I wasn't really sure about them.  I was just cruising alone through the forest, happy as a clam.  After a while, I had to decide whether to return to Wissembourg, and then try to get to Wintzenbach, or whether to keep traipsing through the forest.  I was really enjoying the forest, but knew that if I didn't leave, I likely wouldn't get to see Wintzenbach.  With a good bit of sadness, I decided to leave the forest.  As soon as I left the place, I was missing it.

About an hour later, I was back at the train station in Wissembourg, not knowing at all how I was going to get to Wintzenbach.

to be continued...

The high dive

Today was one of those days where you breathe a sigh of relief when getting home.  I almost didn't make it.

Today my destinations were two small towns, Wingen and Wintzenbach.  My dad's dad's family was from the first, and his mom's family from the second, going back several hundred years.  My last name is all over the place, including on a castle.

These were the last two places to visit on my ancestral voyage, and presented some special problems.  Basically, they are little tiny villages, and I couldn't find any way to get there.  I tried renting a car, but they didn't have a single automatic car anywhere around here.  I even looked into hiring a driver, and it was going to be 200 euro.  I was getting stressed out about it yesterday, and decided to quit for the day.  I was losing my sense of flow.

What I realized during that morning was that the only way this was going to happen was by diving into the deep end.  There was a train to a city about 10 miles from where I needed to be.  I knew I would just have to take one step at a time, and assume things would work out.  No fore-knowledge for this trip.  I feel like it was a good final test.

So I set out at seven this morning.  Two hours later, I had arrived in Wissembourg.  I was hoping to rent a bike, maybe even a motorcycle.  I walked around the train station, looking for a bathroom.  Instead, I found a bunch of old German tourists standing in front of a bus with "Chateau Fleckenstein" on the marque.  Literally, exactly where I wanted to go.  I knew at that point that I was back in the flow.

to be continued...

  

Wry/Rye

Another unused French tank, left over from the war:

Today, I saw a man purposely ride his bike into the back of police car that was backing up, and making the police officers apologize.  I feel like this typifies a common French attitude, something along the lines of "WHY are you inconveniencing ME?"  Yeah, I'm talking shit.  That being said, many people have been totally decent.  I'm working on my issues with being unwanted.

Last night, I sat on the edge of the town square, watching the moon rise over the cathedral while drinking beer and eating an exquisite plum tart.  A couple from Catilan kept trying to talk to me.  They were cool.  Today, I had a picnic along one of the canals.  The bread is amazing.  Obviously, I'm not very busy :P

We'll see about tomorrow, could be intense.

Out of the rain

While wandering today, it started raining.  A midday thunderstorm.  I was getting a bit wet, and after a little while, wandered into a church.  I wandered across it towards a bunch of burning candles.  They were burning under a white marble statue of a young woman, which itself was surrounded by freshly cut white lilies.  I'm not real into idealizing women as innocent, but I thought it was a good place to honor women.  Later I was wandering somewhere else, wondering why I was there.  Then I saw this:

I like this one more.

On Rhine

I walked to the Rhine river today.  I feel like this was one of the most important visits of my journey - this river is one of the biggest sources of life in this region, which itself was the center of European history for thousands of years.  Almost all my family lived somewhere along the Rhine.  In a way, everything can be traced back to this river.

The river is surprisingly clear and still clean.  I saw huge fish swimming in it.  This part of the Rhine is the border between France and Germany - each bank is a country.  I feel this is a good reminder of the   at-the-boarder nature of this trip.  My family lived along a lot of borders, and crossed a lot of borders.  My life is at a border.

Strasbourg is a very enjoyable city.  So much history.  It feels like a very mature city.

(the dude in white is awesome, huh?)

A summer storm rolling in, an hour before all the previous pictures:

Strasbourg

I only just arrived.  The air is warmer.  The land is really alive, and this place has tons of history.  700,000 years!  People are way more expressive.  A bit more attitude, a bit bigger noses.  The city has a very strong feel.  There is a lot here.  I can understand why this place was the birthplace of a lot of European history.

A couple casual pictures on my way to the hostel:

Another unexpected visit

I didn't know I'd be coming through here, but I'm going to post about it, just to make a few specific people jealous.   ;P

I was last here 20 years ago.  It is weird that I could be that old.  I will admit that it felt a little nice being here.  Other parts of Germany are more unsettling.

Another comic interlude

I don't think the Dutch realize (or care at all) how weird their language can look and sound.

Only single men work here:

Someone suggested I call my blog 'The Adventures of the LA Kid'.  I think SassyKamp would be another possibility:

I also came across a robot quietly cutting one of the lawns here in town.  It was so fucking weird.  I made a video of it, but can't figure out how to embed it here.  Some things really don't need to exist...

Boxmeer

Well, I finally made it to Boxmeer.  This city has been harder to organize because there are no hostels, and I couldn't connect with any couchsurfing hosts.  So I just showed up, and found a hotel to stay at for a night.  Although its way over budget, it's timing is perfect.  After days of grubby and gross hostels, I finally feel like I can take a shower and actually get clean.  Even after dancing all night, I still felt cleaner than the bathroom at my last hostel.  

Boxmeer has a curious place in this trip.  It was the home of the Bos part of my family for many generations.  Lena Bos was my grandfather's, Merrill Dietz's, mother.  She was emotionally disturbed, and her illness has arguably been handed down to her descendants, as it was to her.  I thought this would be an important place to visit.

Coming here, I didn't know much about the place.  It is a small rural town.  My initial impression is that of flatness, both in geography and character.  This area is made of small farms interspersed with residences.  It's basically small town Netherlands.  Literally every house is made of the same brown bricks, with the exact same finishing.  Every yard is groomed and boring.  Every street is empty and clean.  It's like no one lives here.  Every single adult I walk past is grimacing.  Obviously, order is very important here.  No surprise, we are right next to the German border.  And no fucking surprise someone would go crazy here, this place is a spiritual ghetto.  Pretty much the opposite of Ireland, where the land is still very much alive with magic.  This place has been effectively paved over for a long time.

Repeat this for miles and miles:

After walking for a bit, I made it to the old town church, where my ancestors would have been married and buried.  Very clean and locked:

To me, endless sterility:

I sat down in the graveyard, took my shoes off, and began to pray and make offerings.  And as I did, I felt myself and the place open up to each other.  There was a deep sense of sadness.  What I heard was that I should celebrate life in all it's forms.  I drank a beer and sat with that for a while.

On my way back, I started seeing little red poppies growing broadcast in the occasional untended spots.  I really felt they were a good omen.  To me, they represent some of the artistic, beautiful, mysterious and healing aspects of the feminine.  So a sign of hope poking up through the cracks.

Shortly thereafter, I saw this:

A good sign, in every way!

After a few hours of walking, I returned to town.  As it turns out, there was a big carnival going on this weekend.  This serious and sedate town had come out to celebrate.  Right now, there are kids yelling their heads off, riding roller coasters, while the adults are all getting drunk in the street outside my hotel.  Definately an interesting day.