A little bit of Kingston Beach is left here on the Mount of Joy
Day after day, alone on the hill
The man with the foolish grin is perfectly still,
But nobody wants to know him,
They can see that he is a fool.
And he never gives an answer
But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning round
Lennon McCartney, Fool on the hill
Today was full of expectation, a twenty km hike along the main drag of the Camino Frances. Gonzo, the Generalissimo and myself are living on a promise of self abuse and fuel of vino blanco.
The many friends we have met, have a huge party and a wedding to attend in the main Cathedral at noon on the 5th November. Two Belgians will marry and the whole world is invited. I am the wedding planner, having done so many weddings in the last 25 years, I cannot be more chuffed.
In 1985, I received from the Government of Tasmania my license to legitimize one night stands. That was and is the only responsibility of a licensee of a public house in Hobart. I can probably claim to have given license to more beer goggle temporary marriages than anyone else in Tasmania’s history. One day I will write the story of Knopwood’s children.
Still, we are staying the night at Lavacolla, which translates as the place to wash a scrotum. As I am carrying my own, it seems to be no great difficulty, for others it may be perplexing, even fun finding one.
The actual place to do so, is now transformed by the construction of an airport runway, upstream, into a dead metallic looking creek, littered with plastic and discarded clothing. By tradition we should swim here naked, but we resist with poisonous fear.
Next stop is the Mount of Joy, Monte de Gozo. It is the site at where you first see the spires of the Cathedral, that house the bones of St James a disciple of Christ and my long lost cousin. This is in all in Galicia in Nth West Spain, way before the end of the earth, Finisterre.
The Mount of Joy is the last hill before Santiago de Compostella. In 1993, Papa Juan Pablo 11 (Pope John Paul 2), consecrated the site with a stainless steel failure of public sculpture. Now heavily stained, like a urinal, it appears clumsy and tired, more how I feel. Through the smog I can see the football stadium and nothing else.
The Generalissimo is now a tourist in disguise, after interfering with himself in a clean way. He did make a donation at the Mount of Joy, every Pilgrim carries a stone, from their home. It is a symbol of the burdens we carry. Like a Hadj (pilgrimage) to Mecca where the devil is stoned, we leave these ‘burdens’ on the Monte de Gozo. Later on the local version of Hazel Brothers, collects the stones for road base and landfill.
We have gained a fourth member Princess Esmerelda of Brazil, a young communist, who can out-drink two old hobos and Gonzo our donkey. In our touring tribe are Scots, Californians, French, Brazilians, Texans, Belgians, Christians, Jews and heretics, a donkey and some bed bugs, a Harry Potter witch, hangers on, an army of Greeks, some goat herders, a knight, a professor and the usual translators. All of whom mysteriously follow the Generalissimo, who hides in their midst, looking like a Merican tourist in a loud, clean Hawaiian shirt.
There is a constant parade of people past us all afternoon, many could be friends, familiar faces appear as we all travel in the same direction at different times. We sleep together in Alberges, eat, drink, talk and laugh, we are exhausted together, a never-ending army on a long march through unfamiliar territory, with only well-prepared Germans to guide us. They have an extensive library of guide books, both physical and digital. We have nothing to guide us, except middle-class entitlement and ritual.
All Saints Day is November First, they will be swinging the enormous incense burner from the Cathedral ceiling, called Botofumiere. It is 700 years old and takes ten monks to get moving, but first before it moves 300 euros have to hit the churches bank account. This very large silver incense burner is to remove the smells from the Cathedral of the Pilgrims who have slept with cows, sheep, donkeys and each other on their various Caminos. The odours in medieval times would have been similar to a dairy farm opening silage bails.
We have made a decision to stay at a monastery in Santiago. There are a great number, the Seminary immediately opposite the cathedral has 800 beds, is mixed and cheap at $10 per night. Our monastery is four stars and has room service. The day after tomorrow is All Saints day and at noon there is a pilgrims’ mass and a free swing of the boat of fiery incense, el botofumiere.
Tomorrow, we must walk the walk to Santiago de Compostella and find the Cathedral.
To be continued …
Lavacolla, the surrounding plastic pollution at the place to wash a scrotum
Lavacolla, note the creek is bottom right. Not swimming, not washing
Just in case you were wondering about the meaning of the Camino
Ominous graffiti from the previous day
Monte de Gozo, Mount of Joy, Gonzo’s Mountain
My rock of burden from Kingston Beach …
Gonzo à Gozo. The first site of the football stadium, it was closer than the Cathedral
More rocks, make light road base
What do you think of public sculpture (bas relief) , has anyone seen any that does not look like a bureaucrat approved it?
Gonzo y el author à Gozo. NB. The detail of the rusty staining and the fine rendition of John Paul 2s visit
More unburdening of loved ones, parking tickets and landfill
The scenic view of the leftovers from the Pilgrims scrotum wash, maybe the dead creek is just symbolic
I thinks it says, ‘Whatever you think, then do’
Much nicer to be here, than in a tourist trap religious extravaganza
