Via De La Plata, Part III: We Discuss Pinchos

freshly peeled cork oak

Another day with acorn orchards, a herd of sheep, and cork oak trees. We set out at six-thirty, and the day started cold enough that we both put on our gloves (unfortunately the cold couldn't be stored for later), but it was warm in an hour and a half, hot in three, and scorching in four -- the consistent daily pattern. We noticed an interesting micro-climate effect: if there wasn't a wind, large trees, with branches that dipped to the ground, would hold a pool of cool air. It was noticeable enough that we were usually tempted to stop and sit until the pool got hot. Naturally that would mean the rest of the walk would be hotter. A conundrum.
   The herd of sheep was much larger than the one of the earlier day. This herd was a hundred or more -- a shepherd and two dogs. (this time neither dog gave dw the stink-eye) We had an interesting semi-chat with the shepherd (the language barrier only partly over-come). He told us two pilgrims ahead of us had told him we were coming and he had looked forward to meeting us (rare Americans). he had been a shepherd all his life and he enjoyed the work. Again we were struck with how welcoming the locals are towards peregrinos. They seem to consider the pilgrim to be a traveler who belongs -- who is "one of us" and who is engaged in local life (largely true); as opposed to an ordinary tourist (regardless of how "good" the tourist is) who is passing through and doesn't engage on the same level. -- Interacting with local people is definitely one of the pleasures of the camino.

We spent two nights in Caceres. The Via de la Plata doesn't have as many small colorful villages as does the Frances or Via Podensis, although some can hold their own against any competitors, but the larger towns, and Caceres is the first after Merida, are beautiful indeed.

section of Caceres town wall

Spanish,Semana Santa clothes (Holy Week)

Plaza Mayor

   Casco Viejo, the old town, is surrounded by its original wall, which probably dates back to Roman times, with additions and alterations from Muslims, Christians, and assorted war-lords (Geraldo the Fearless -- "I'm Geraldo the Fearless and I'm going to kick your ass!"). The Plaza Major, just outside the walls, is a pleasant place to sit and watch the crowds (or the restaurant tout who reeled us in, and who was an energizer bunny non pareil). The old town is full of sights: we visited the Moorish cistern (larger than the one in Merida but without the goldfish), toured one of the (now vacant and city owned) palaces, found a dollar store equivalent where dw bought a hand fan and I bought a small pair of scissors for my mustache which was growing faster than expected. In the newer part of town we watched a roller-blade team (four young women plus a coach) practice their event: In an unused lot they set up two parallel courses -- 20 small red plastic cups 2 feet apart in a line. Two at a time they would sprint toward the lines and then coast through, weaving in and out of the cups. They were really fast and the two older women seldom hit the cups. It was impressive and interesting.

Painting in the Art Cafe

   As we walked toward the last site we wanted to see, we passed an art café which was showing some nice paintings. We sat on the terrace, overlooking a small valley with four horses on the far side doing horse things. As usual, along with our beers, the café served pinchos (a small snack served with drinks -- usually chips (crisps for any who are unenlightened), olives, peanuts, sausages, etc.) At this café the pinchos were chips.
    dw: "Do you like large chips, or small ones?"
    DJA: "Small ones, I think. They taste the same but the large ones can crumble and get on your shirt."
    dw: "Yeah, me too. And sometimes the small ones are extra crispy -- a taste treat."
    DJA: "Of course you can scoop up more dip with the big ones.:
   dw: "Unless they break."
   And so goes an end of day camino conversation.

The trail after Caceres goes through a bleak area, with one small town, a reservoir and some bridges. Few trees for shade, rock spires one to three feet high scattered around and out-numbering the trees. Not a pleasant section.

La Posada Grimaldo is a bit off the trail and totally undistinguished. To get to it we left the main trail, edged through a brushy area, crossed a small muddy stream, and climbed a short very steep hill. The private albergue was worth it. Its owner was a designer/builder who had lost his job and decided to open the albergue. The rooms were dedicated to different notables (ours was Gaudi, another was Garcia Lorca) and each was tastefully appointed with (often) original art and crafts. We loved the place. One of the best of the whole walk. There wasn't a dinner available (the village had two restaurants) but there was a do-it-yourself breakfast with the usual toast, coffee, muffins, and orange juice.

A THOUGHT FOR TODAY: Churches, nations, and races are fantasies intended to evade death -- whereas we should confront "with passion the conundrum of life" --- James Baldwin

FACTOIDS: Siamese cats' color is temperature sensitive. Where it's cooler (as the ears) its fur is darker, where it's hotter its fur is lighter. So in the Sahara they're all white, while in the Arctic they're extinct -- eaten by polar bears -- because they were entirely dark and were easily seen against the snow.
   Mary Shelly (author of Frankenstein) and wife of the poet Shelley -- kept her husband's heart in her desk (after he died of course)

ANOTHER THOUGHT FOR TODAY: When people say: "Doing a little painting, eh?" or "Hot enough for you?" etc. they are indulging in what psychologists call "phatic communication" -- that is to say, talk intended to establish a sense of fellowship, rather than to convey any intelligent meaning. There are a lot of people whose entire conversation is composed of phatic communication. -- Carried to excess it earns them a reputation for phatheadedness.  --- Robertson Davies.

And so it goes.  DJA