Good Friday
"Not a bad walk today" -
per my journal.
Actually,
I think I just stopped writing as much about my pain
because when I popped into a church along the way yesterday
to reflect,
Mary looked pissed.
Was that just my imagination?
I figured she was tired of hearing me mutter "Madre de Dios"
every time I spied another mountain to clamber up.
Maybe I was being overly sensitive.
(Is that a symptom of substance abuse?)
Anyway, I concentrated on beauty
and congratulated myself on being smart enough to walk in the spring
and not summer.
I honestly don't know how pilgrims walk the Camino in the heat of a Mediterranean summer
without lovely floral things to distract them
before they pass out.
We witnessed a Stations of the Cross procession
at lunchtime
in Viloria de Rioja
and then walked quietly on.
(South Dakota - I'm tellin' ya!)
Our destination for the night was Belorado -
unfortunately it was apparently everyone else's destination too.
We had noticed an increase in the number of pilgrims on the Camino during Holy Week
but hadn't been impacted by it too much -
beyond seeing new faces and hearing more "Buen Camino"s being exchanged
than were completely necessary.
Seems that, for some Spanish families,
its part of their Lenten observance to walk segments of the Camino.
For others, because its a long holiday weekend,
many people gather at the nearest large town to see the traditional Good Friday processions.
Not knowing either of these things,
we had no idea that rooms would be at a premium.
'Completo' was the answer to all our inquiries
at all the albergues!
Finally, as we walked around the town in tears,
thinking we'd be forced to take up residence in the local storks nests
(how charming are they, right?),
some inn keeper
(I kid you not)
took pity on us and found us a room.
True it was probably more than we'd have paid during a 'normal' weekend,
but it was a roof over our heads, a shower and a bed.
We were nothing but grateful.
The Good Friday procession that night was remarkable -
even if alien and beyond my comprehension.
(Since I've been back,
I've actually Googled about the hooded robes participants wore
and only have found some confusing and contradictory information.
Apparently, they're still referred to as 'Flagellants' -
and I can only imagine what nut jobs I'll attract to the blog by using that phrase!)
When we asked people about them that evening,
we were told they were members of ancient religious 'societies',
each with their own function in the Lenten observances.
Historically, members of the 'orders' performed acts of repentance
and confessed their sins in public.
The hoods were intended to protect their identities,
since members lived in small towns and everyone knew everyone else,
and to prevent people from being known only for the worst things they'd done.
While the hoods used by the societies in Belorado were not as pointed,
participants in processions in other locales are decidedly so.
All I know is because the KKK adopted the same costume in this country
to protect their identities for far different reasons,
there wasn't an American in the crowd
who didn't gasp and feel uneasy to see a whole parade of these folks.
I was also surprised at my reaction to seeing Christ's body carried in a glass coffin.
On a daily basis, as I visited churches all over Spain,
I'd seen him nailed to a cross...
but this was jarring.
As I said, just very alien, for me -
although it certainly gave me a lot to think about while walking the next day.
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