Getting Settled in Sevilla

We arrived in Sevilla ten minutes earlier than anticipated after literally spending the previous 24 hours in trains, planes and automobiles. Conchi´s sister Selene picked us up at the train station and we went straight to an outdoor bar for tapas and a few beers. It was Saturday afternoon, the weather was perfect and the bars were overflowing. This never ceases to amaze me. Life happens "in the street" here. For some reason it was necessary to eat at 2 different bars before we finally headed to Selene's apartment late in the afternoon. I was starting to fade, but was determined to stay awake until at least sundown to try to power through jet lag. We dropped off the luggage and within a few hours we were back out "en la calle" for dinner, along with substantially larger crowds. Sunday was a repeat of Saturday, but with an earlier start. Selene took us to a restaurant outside of town, across from the Roman ruins of Italica. Our first choice was full, so we settled for the place next door. It too was so full we had to wrangle our own table and umbrella and put it on the sidewalk. As we took our seats, I noticed a yellow arrow painted on the lamp post behind Conchi. A waymark. Without realizing it, we'd planted ourselves right on the Camino de Santiago, the very same Via de la Plata. Spooky.

The previous day, while in a taxi between the Madrid airport and the train station, our driver told us of his commitment to walk El Camino. He said he´d made a promise to St James, the very same Santiago and patron saint of Spain. If his brother recovered from cancer, he'd walk El Camino from the French border to Santiago de Compostela. His brother went through various treatments and had 20 centimeters of his lower intestine removed and now he's better, so in 4 years he's going to make his pilgrimage as promised. This is not a young guy. In fact, in four years he may no longer be in his 60's, so Conchi and I were a bit surprised by his determination until he added that he's got a special plan. He and another brother are going to walk with a friend they call the "andarín" or "the walker". Since the taxi driver admitted to having a 10-kilometer limit, he and his brother are going to tag team "the walker" using their car. He's convinced that St James will understand this and his promise will be considered fulfilled. OK, I guess so. But I also guess I would have given a little bit more credit to the oncologist and surgeon who saved his brother's life.

Between the time we left Portland and our train's arrival in Sevilla, the landscape of this trip had shifted beneath us. Conchi's mother had gone into the hospital for some yet undetermined heart ailment. Selene arrived at the train station to pick us up with her third sister in tow. Maria Jose had arrived that morning from Zaragoza and she and Selene had committed to a pilgrimage of their own to the Canary Islands, where their mother is hospitalized. By default, Conchi was drafted into that project. So I took them to the airport last night and I'm cooling my heels in Sevilla until they return this Saturday. Before Conchi left yesterday, we had time to walk to the Cathedral, the official start of the Via de la Plata, and obtain our pilgrim
credentials. This passport gets stamped along the way and allows us to stay in the "refugios" or refuges provided to pilgrims for free or for donations. So we're officially in the registry of "peregrinos". I asked the guy who issued them how many he had dispensed so far this year, thinking we were starting early and way ahead of the game. "Muchos" he guffawed. "I've already given out about 15 this morning. Lets see, some Germans, some Japanese. Muchos". Yikes.

This morning I put on my boots for the first time since arriving and did the first leg of el camino on my own. I walked the 8 miles out to Italica where we'd sat in the middle of the trail for lunch on Sunday.