LOOKS LIKE PONFERRADA TOMORROW!!

13August 2010

Manjatin

the last templar

It seems I will have to be in Ponferrada tomorrow which will be a bit of a rush to try to get a bus to Compostela. Nothing is certain. However, had an interesting walk and saw an ancient cross where pilgrims place a stone. This has been going on for rather a long time now so the pile has the beginnings of a hill now. Also at a place called Manjatin the last Templar can be found, or that's what he likes to be known as. Funny how all religions attract people like this. Also a shot of my trusty old boots that will go into retirement when all this is over.
Just to finish with here's a movie about Foncebadon. D

EL GANSO

EL GANSO

10 Aug I am sure you are all familiar with the name of the village El Ganso. But those not so well informed it’s about 14km from my next stop which is much better known, Foncebadon. Still none the wiser? Take it from me its in Northern Spain, somewhere.
El Ganso, which I found in a guide book, yesterday, has one thing going for it. According to the guide it has some examples of ancient thatched roofs. In the 12th century it was the site of a hospital and monastery. That’s a lot of information to take in so let’s elaborate further for the sake of confusion.



I can understand there being a hospital once if the guy’s feet in the next bunk are anything to go by. Both his feet are swathed in plasters and stained yellow from the iodine he’s been using. These sorts of sights really do make one wonder at the mentality of the Comino community. He has just spent about an hour poking, prodding and replacing his complex array of various heavy duty dressings. What’s all this got to do with El Ganso – not a lot but its disgusting enough to be interesting, isn’t it.





I think the grammar in the guide was a little out because I think they meant to say, ‘….had some examples…..’ because all I have come across are collapsing walls, gable ends and a couple of barely surviving thatch roofs from the mid nineteenth century. Perhaps the stonewall building skills comes from the Celtic times here.


All along the Camino I have seen silent and deserted building sites, and cranes that haven’t moved for months. Now the property market is awash with property for sale as can be seen even in El Ganso (se vende). They are trying to sell anything – a wall of all things! Perhaps it’s an historical monument. But this village of no more than a 100 people, is crumbling away through age and neglect. Perhaps if the economy hadn’t become so dire, people from the towns and cities would still be thinking of a country cottage here.

The ‘Gabino’ albergue is fine and as it’s the only one in the village (16beds). This morning a veritable army of walkers emerged out of Astorga. I didn’t realize just how many there were until I, and several others, took a wrong path. Returning along towards a bridge that was the correct way, I saw to my horror an almost endless line of walkers crossing it, at 7.30 in the morning! When I was going to Astorga yesterday morning there was not the same numbers of people so I can only guess that a lot of them had started in Astorga. This all made me wonder about room at the small albergues along this part.


The bar (Bar Cowboy) has some wacky locals hanging around it. I met one guy called Pedro in the bar who is contributing handsomely to Spain’s financial deficit. His English was pretty good and he seemed very proud to be receiving a large quantity of euros a month because he has ‘something wrong with his head’. For pleasure only, he claimed, he teaches maths to friends and acquaintances. I think that just about sums it up.
But just after I arrived here at about 10.30 I met a couple of middle aged Americans riding collapsible bikes with small wheels. They’d come down through France and were doing the whole trail. Another incredibly sun blackened guy of indeterminable age, who according the barman was completely ‘loco’, punctuated his conversation with loud earsplitting knocks on the heavy wooden table. When the barman began to imitate this unusual form of self expression, El Loco thought he’d found a friend for life. The last I saw of him was when he was bedding down in the church porch.