Portuguese Camino Day9: An Enchanted Night at Casa Alternativo

The International Bridge as viewed from Valença’s impressive medieval fortress-city overlooking the Minho River and across it, Spain

Suzanne has one foot in Portugal, while Steve has one foot in Spain in the middle of the International Bridge.

Now in Spain looking back to Portugal, it may not look like it, but two cars can pass each other. 

We are greeted by a rather sketchy border crossing and good climb to the courtyard of Tui Cathedral, an imposing but stunning example of Romanesque and Gothic architecture dating from the 12c. The cathedral’s interior is a cool, hushed sanctuary. Sunlight streams from the stained-glass windows casting patterns of light and dark, creating an ancient and mystical atmosphere.  There is a soft whisper of pilgrim’s feet moving across the stone floor. To the left of the main altar stands the iconic statue of St. Elmo, patron saint of Tui Cathedral.

Suzanne on the steps of the Cathedral of Tui

St. Elmo, patron Saint of the Tui Cathedral and Sailors. It has got to be really hard to get all those candles to line up straight.

St. Elmo

Better known as the patron saint of seafarers. He stands tall, cradling a boat in his left hand, and extending a candle in his right.  We’re about 20 miles to the ocean, so I’m surprised this sailor’s saint would also be the Cathedral’s, perhaps Tui was once a significant river port, or maybe it has something to do with St. Elmo’s fire. During stormy weather at sea, St. Elmo’s Fire was sometimes seen by sailors in flashes of light or an ethereal glow reflecting off a ship masts, as if the blessed Saint was holding a candle to guide them. The Saint as a protector for those navigating turbulent waters, be they life’s challenges, or pilgrims on the Camino.

Oh how I love eating the Spanish Tortilla. I’m glad to see them on the menu again.

A Much Older Way

As we walk out, we bump into Veronica and Helena on the steps of the Cathedral going in. But its lunch time for us, and we’re hungry.  I’m always hungry these days. Now that we are in Galicia proper, I’m thrilled to see the Spanish Tortilla (that was a staple of my 2017 Camino) appear in cafés. Tortilla is the traditional omelet of Spain, containing egg, potato, and onion and served at room temperature with a slice of crusty baguette. I’ve tried to make it over the years, but now tasting the authentic thing again, I realize my egg/potato ratio was wrong.

The Spanish Way feels more timeworn, as it guides us through dark, cool hardwood forests on paths that seem to have always been. We cross Roman dry lay stone bridges that could have been built from 2c BC to 4c AD with deep cart-ruts. Pilgrims have come this way since the 9c, and there are moments when I believe I can still feel their presence. What burdens they were carrying, I wonder.  Whatever they were, my burden is light by comparison: what will be my relationship with work, as I near the age of retirement, an option they didn’t have.  I think about one of the participants in our program who stood, holding up a Bible in his right hand saying “Retirement isn’t a word that appears in this book!” As Suzanne and I discuss this we talk about a sacred duty to use these gifts of education, experience, and wisdom.  Can I/we really just walk away from using them because I want more time to hike, play music and for the grand kids?

We cross Roman dry lay stone bridges that could have been built from 2c BC to 4c AD with deep cart-ruts.

This is mediaeval Bridge of Fevers where in 1246, the one day patron saint of Tui became ill with fever on his way to Santiago. Instead of continuing his pilgrimage, he returned Tui, and later died.

Casa Alternativo Community 

Tonight, we’re staying at Casa Alternativo, an albergue on the officially sanctioned route alternative that bypasses the city road walks, with country road walks. Its 5pm and still stupidly hot, we’re tired and see a sign: 500 meters to Casa Alternativo. We’re almost there we think, but the sign is a lie. What should take 10 minutes takes 45, or seemingly forever. We have reservations so it’s not so much about making it there before the beds fill up, we’re just tired from 12 miles and ready to put our backpacks down. We drag ourselves up the driveway and hear the cheers from friends the past few nights welcoming us. 20 minutes later we are soaking our sore feel in the cool water of his swimming pool, and then soon cheering Veronica, and Heleena as they arrive. What joyous comradery.

Tonight will be Suzanne’s second Pilgrim Meal.  Eleven of us gather by candlelight to share a meal of rice and shredded whitefish and tell stories of our why of The Way. Among the voices, we hear an unaccented English that sounds strange and familiar to us. We’ve met our first American. People seem to be surprised Americans would come all this way to Camino, expecting that we were already across the Atlantic for a conference and then decided to walk the Camino as an add on. American Brent has done seven Caminos, his last before this was the Camino Primativo*. For everyone else at the table but me, this is their first Camino, and I say using my dad voice “For many of you,” looking each in the eye one by one, “this may not be your only Camino.” No one leaves the table until well after 10pm, we don’t want the laughter and night magic of stories to end.

*The Camino Primitivo is the oldest Camino de Santiago routes.

It’s an unusual arrangement, this double bed in the same room as two other single beds with strangers. Right before bed I learn that one of the other women sleeping in our room, a Dane we had just met across the table, is a Lutheran pastor. We quickly share a pastor-to-pastor conversation and observations about the Portuguese Camino from a faith perspective. Taking with her, I feel something I have not felt in a long time. She feels like a pastor, a pastor serving a church, who loves her people.  I go to sleep trying to put my finger on why that unsettles me so. The other woman in the room listens and asks faith questions – I get the impression that she hasn’t had much opportunity for faith conversations so far on her Camino. She miraculously survived a serious health ailment less than six months ago, and is trying to make sense of her life and her Camino why. It is close to midnight when we all settle into a comfortable sleep.

Our double bed, to the left, in a shared room with two singles. It worked well, but was a little weird at first.

Dries, our host, warned us that he will start the music at 6:30a to wake us up for sunrise. The promise of wake-up music is not a lie. Thankfully it starts low and gradually increases in volume, beginning with Ave. Maria, until we are all gathered at the same table for breakfast, coffee and juice and bread and jam and cheese being passed around.

These be our wet feet on the 9th day. Please notice the elegant brass way marker, that guides us in Galicia.