The Icelandic Canadian - 01.09.2003, Qupperneq 20

18
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
Vol. 58 #1
Morato. (We also lost at least five pounds
in sweat hiking up and down the city’s
back streets in forty-degree weather.) It is
one block away from the tourist drag, but
seems to be a haven for cocaine dealers.
There is only one room so Dave and I, and
our five new friends from the United States
are sharing a room with three single beds.
Evidently the toilets are backed up at the
moment so we will have to be creative. We
have pushed the beds together so that five
can sleep sideways across them and one of
the Americans has agreed to sleep on the
malfunctioning bathroom floor. Note to
self - phone ahead when visiting Barcelona.
Excerpt—Northern Spain:
Dave and I are going on a pilgrimage!
El Camino de Santiago (the way of James)
it is called and it is a thirty-day hike across
the Pyrenees and through northern Spain
to the west coast. As the legend goes, St.
James’ bones were buried there in the first
century AD. Since then thousands of peo-
ple including well-known groups like the
Moors and the Visigoths, Kings and
Queens, and even the Templar knights
(warrior-monks who acted as protectors
for the pilgrims) have been making the
journey. We are excited because it will give
us a chance to commune with the beauty of
the land? to meet interesting characters?
and to spend time with each other.
Five days into the hike:
We rise before the sun and walk until it
sets each day. When all you do is hike, eat
John Harvard, MP
Charleswood St. James-Assiniboia
Chair, Northern &
if Western Caucus
jj 3050 Portage Ave.
Winnipeg, MB R3K 0Y1
Ph: (204) 983-4501
Fax: (204) 983-4728
www.johnharvard.com
Room 774 Confederation Bldg. • Ottawa, ON K1A 0A6
Ph: (613) 995-5609 • Fax: (613) 992-3199
harvaj@parl.gc.ca
and sleep there is plenty of time to think
and surprise yourself with revelations
about your life and dreams (I have decided
to quit this job, for instance, and go into
medicine. One week later Dave was
enrolled).
The rhythm of the pilgrims is so natur-
al it will be hard to go back to forced late
night cramming and the neurosis that
accompanies city life. We stopped in a
small town called Acebo today for break-
fast. We had been hiking since 5:30 am and
by 9:00 we were starved. An old man with
a beret greeted us as we entered the one-
street-long town? saying 'han llegado
queridos mios? felicidades!" (You have
arrived my dears, congratulations!) He rec-
ognized us as pilgrims by the small seashell
symbol we wore on our hat, a symbol that
represents the journey, (and by the layers
of caked-on dust making our pasty white
skin look bronzed). The man pointed us in
the direction of the one restaurant in town.
"Gasoline for the body over there,” he
laughed. (He must have heard the hungry
buffalo stampeding through my stomach.)
After talking with him a while I
learned he was a farmer who had lived in
Acebo his whole life. "I was born here, and
I will die here. It's all up to God really, but
so far life has been so good to me. I am real-
ly blessed." The words from his mouth
combined with the smile in his eyes
reminded me of my Uncle Ron (from the
Interlake) and I felt a strong tie to this man.
So we bought him a coffee.
Excerpt- On vegetarianism:
Vegetarianism in Spain is like getting
the chills in Tahiti. It’s just not really done.
Attempting to eat that way as you travel
will result in one of three scenarios: 1)
weight loss by default (starvation) due to
the lack of readily available vegetarian
options, 2) a conversion to meat because
after all, ham and cheese bocadillos (sand-
wiches on baguettes) really do taste like a
little piece of heaven after a five hour hike,
or 3) severe bloating as you are forced to
replace meals with chocolate bars, crois-
sants, cheese and flaky pastries, all of which
are hardly diet food. Note to self: just con-
vert to meat.