Sunday, April 24, 2016

England and the South Downs Way


England & the South Downs Way              April 24, 2016



Well, we've been out of touch lately, since April 1.  Bruce has been following the Camino de Santiago Portugues, and I have been wandering around the South Downs of England, south of London.  

Bruce will have to tell his own story, since I didn't share it with him.  But what an amazing adventure I had with my two Canadian cousins, Dori and Peggy!  There is nothing like walking to have encounters with real people, and England has got to be the best place for that.  They have such a deeply ingrained culture of walking and of allowing people to cross their lands on public footpaths.  Of course, speaking the language makes it possible to converse and really connect.  

The South Downs Way is a series of high hills that stretches for 100 miles from Winchester to Eastbourne.  It was our goal to walk all of it.  Historically the way served as a market route during medieval times.  Today it is a national park which offers a swath of relatively undeveloped land in a very populated part of England.  And it is glorious!!  Rolling and green and bosomy, composed of chalk and flint with a thin layer of dirt, populated by sheep and farmers and small, CHARMING villages and the kindest folks you could meet anywhere.  Maybe it was because we were a bit of a novelty, being three "senior" North American women setting out on a rather daunting challenge, especially at this time of year when there are virtually no other tourists, but we encountered so much encouragement and assistance and just plain sweetness!  


Beginning our hike in Winchester, with our backpacks strapped on: ready to go!        L-R:  Linda, Dori, Peggy


St. John's Croft B&B in Winchester, hosted by the personable Dottie Fraser.  

Dottie, at St. John's Croft in Winchester, our first hostess, kept my suitcase for me for the 3 weeks that we were hiking.  Rosemary, our nurturing hostess in West Meon, served us tea and the most perfect walnut layer cake when we arrived.  "I think you deserve it when you've walked a long way," she said. 


 Tea and cake in the "conservatory", Shaftbury Farm B&B, West Meon.
 

Angie, a look-alike for a younger Judi Dench and our B&B hostess in Bignor, brushed off our muddy shoes so that we would be presentable for dinner at the fussy local pub.  Amanda, in the town of Lewes, when she heard that we planned to have bread, cheese, and wine for supper, set the table in her tiny back garden, under a glass canopy where we ate by candlelight with a soft rain falling all around.  


 
Stane House, Angie's B&B in Bignor, seen across the fields. Those are the downs in the back.

We love exploring ancient churches.  In Petersfield and again in South Harding, we met church ladies.  In the former, one elderly woman told us about her own hiking days and then blessed us as we left.  In another, we arrived on a Wednesday, just as a few of the really old folks were finishing their mid-week service, held for them in a sunny new addition where it's warmer than in the old stone sanctuary.  They showed us around and then offered to make us coffee and sent us on our way with directions for how to get to the trail.  

We had been disappointed when we were unable to attend evensong at Winchester Cathedral, so we jumped at the chance when we stumbled upon evensong at the tiny Church of England in Lewes.  It turned out to be not at all what we expected.  This mid-week evensong was not sung, and we were the only attendees!  Yikes, the pressure was on, but the elderly priest and his two lay assistants kindly helped us follow the half hour service.  It turned out to be another sweet experience. 
           The ancient St. Petersfield Church 


Window featuring St. Michael in the South Harding Church. 

Countless people along the way wanted to know where we were from, where we were going, and went out of their way to offer suggestions and to have chats.  On the trail we met a couple out for a walk who joined us for awhile and then, when we were forced to take a bit of a detour due to a flooded field, helped each of us get safely through a barbed wire fence.   One older (than us) couple told us that they were members of PAWS (Pub Appreciation Walking Society :) and were scouting a new route for their group to "amble" on before settling in at a pub.   Other elders shared stories of their childhood in England during the war, which we felt privileged to hear.

Before we actually began hiking, we spent two days in Winchester, the ancient capital of Saxon England.  What an enchanting city of graceful antiquity!  A statue of King Alfred the Great, who ruled there in 870's, holds sway over the lower part of the main street.  Winchester Cathedral, the magnificent church with the longest nave in Europe, held us captive for 3 hours!  We found ourselves singing, humming, whistling the famous 1960's song as we walked.  It sticks with you!  


        King Alfred stands proudly and boldly at one entrance to the city.


    Winchester Cathedral has been a place of worship for 900 years!

Once we got out on the South Downs Way, after months of planning, we were excited to finally begin our adventure.  In total, we hiked for 8 days, covering an average of 10 miles a day, although only 50 of those miles were actually on the trail.  The rest of the mileage involved getting up and down from the downs each day (seems odd, but the term for the high area is "downs").  The terrain varied from beautiful, bucolic open fields with wide vistas over the hills to woodsy paths or tracks bordering sheep and cow pastures, sometimes along rushing streams.   It was blowsy and green, damp and lush - and we loved it. 

Our huge "full English" breakfast each morning included cereal, yogurt, fruit, eggs, bacon, roast tomatoes, mushrooms, toast, coffee/tea, and juice - enough fuel to keep us going for hours. We would usually eat at 8:30am and waddle onto the road around 10am.   Since there is nothing commercial on the downs, we would take snack materials for a picnic lunch, and then have a nice pub meal in the evening, when we came down into a village for the night.  Pub meals were always delicious, creative, and surprisingly upscale.  



We were lucky to be able to book only a day or so in advance, without having to plan out the whole trip, since it took some time to get a sense of how far we could walk in a day.  This was possible only because it was early spring and not crowded.  In fact, we encountered only one other tourist couple walking the South Downs, Australians about our age (who were having their bags transported for them).    




In addition to seeing sheep and cows, we ran into horses and dogs -of course - though sadly for Dori, no hedgehogs or badgers which she had hoped to see.   She and Peg are both avid bird-watchers, and they introduced me to lots of species.  Wild primroses and daffodils, those classic English spring flowers, brightened up the landscape.  We hoped to see some "bluebell" woods but were just a bit early for them.  On the weekend, especially, kids and parents and single amblers and small groups of friends were out on the downs.  Even in rain, the Brits get out to walk!  








Fields of lambs always required a stop to watch them frolicking and nursing.



A herd of cows, put out to pasture just as we were coming along.  The most curious cows I've ever met.  They must be used to having amblers in their territory.  

We did very little sight-seeing along the way, other than the churches on the day that we took Dori to the doctor.  However, we couldn't pass up the chance to visit a Roman villa, close to our B&B in Bignor.  It was discovered by a farmer back in 1811 when plowing his field.  The remains are some of the best mosaics in England, the earliest of which date back to around 200 AD!  We took an hour to look around one morning before getting onto the trail.  Having Medusa look up at us through the centuries gave us pause for thought.  



Getting up onto the downs each day and then ascending and descending some of the even higher hills that cropped up along the way was a challenge.  Spring rain had made it muddy and slippery underfoot.  We began our adventure on a sunny day, which was lovely, but, this being England in April, we ran into drizzle and bone-chilling rain, at times.  


                                             Dori eating her picnic lunch on a rainy day.

At the half-way mark for the entire South Downs Way, near Amberly, we all hit a wall.  Dori had been suffering from hiker's toe and had required medical assistance, a very pleasant encounter with the British medical system.  We found that foreign visitors are given one free medical visit.  With her toes carefully bandaged up, Dori kept walking for a few more days but finally had to stop.  Peg and I were tired, too, and chilled from the rain and drizzle that had gone on for 3 days. 

                                                      Hiker's toe plagued this hiker.  

Reluctantly, we ended up deciding to curtail our hiking part of the adventure and, instead, to visit some interesting towns and cities close to the trail,  including Arundel, Brighton, Lewes, and Eastbourne.  

Arundel and Lewes are two very historic towns.  Arundel was our first stop.  It has a storybook castle which is still lived in.  We spent 3 days in Arundel, recuperating in a small hotel owned by a quiet Indian couple.  


After resting for a couple of days, we were ready to get out to explore Arundel castle grounds



 
 Wooden sculpture in the gardens at Arundel Castle.  A candidate for pilates?  




      I loved this color combination in Arundel's walled castle garden. 


In Lewes, I learned that Thomas Paine, who influenced both the American and French revolutions, had spent several years there, developing the philosophy and ideas that he promoted in his book, Common Sense.  More than once, he had earned the dubious title of "most Headstrong". Lewes is known as a feisty old town that is very proud of its influence on Tom and, even today, is an independent-minded transition town which has issued its own currency, the Lewes pound.  


 Sculpture of Thomas Paine given to Lewes by the USA on the bicentenial of his death.  

Brighton and Eastbourne are both Victorian seaside resorts from the days when it was thought that "taking the water" was healthful.  King George IV built himself a "pavilion" in Brighton.  On a gorgeous sunny day, we rode the giant, enclosed ferris wheel on the seafront.


 King George IV's Royal Pavilion in Brighton, built to look like an Indian palace. 


  A ride on the Brighton Wheel gave us a good look at the whole seafront and beyond.  




Eastbourne is where the South Downs Way ends, and we were eager to visit, even if we hadn't walked there.  We did manage to get out to the magnificent Seven Sisters which are at the end of the trail.  These lovely ladies are high undulating chalk cliffs, standing in a humble, dignified way along the south coast. It was a dramatically cloudy day when we saw them, the sky changing color every few seconds, turning the shallow sea silver and turquoise and dark blue. We drank in the beauty for as long as we could.  Finally the rain caught up with us and drove us away from this scene and back through sheep pastures and along the muddy track to a cozy inn for tea.  


                                  Seeing the incomparable Seven Sisters, finally



                    Regency-era hotels along the seafront in Eastbourne.


Our total walking mileage was well over 100 miles, when our city explorations were included. (Bruce and I just logged 8 miles in Dublin yesterday.)  All in all, it had been a fantastic adventure, with both hiking & nature-immersion in the countryside and a town/city part where we got a flavor of Britain, historically and present-day.  The queen celebrated her 90th birthday while we were there, and we heard about the upcoming vote on whether England will leave the EU.  Everyone is terrified of Donald Trump.  

Bruce and I are eager to get back home now.  It's been four months since we left Gorham in January.  We're hoping that all those daffies and tulips that I planted last fall might be peeking up through the spring soil.  

This will probably be the last blog post for awhile (unless Bruce recounts his pilgrimage).   Let me know your thoughts about this post: lwebb34@gmail.com.  

Have a lovely summer!  


Monday, March 28, 2016

Holy Week in Alozaina

Holy Week in Alozaina                March 28, 2016





We could hear the drums beating out the slow rhythm as we sat in our little house down over the hill from the church and the town plaza.  Not knowing exactly when the parade would begin, we relied on hearing those sounds before rushing up to see it.  

Holy Week (Semana Santa) in Spain is filled with the ancient tradition of brotherhoods (confradias) which organize their members to march in parades (procesiones, en espanol) while carrying massive floats honoring Jesus and his mother, Mary.  We have heard from friends who know about such things, that there is a certain penance associated with this activity, since the floats are difficult - even painful - to carry.  But it is also viewed as an honor for which the participants pay a fee.  The individual confradias have their own bands, providing the holiday music as well as the beat in order for the float bearors to keep up a necessary swaying motion. 


The processions that we saw in Antigua, Guatemala, were much more somber and formal - it is a place with more sorrows.  Here in Alozaina, we were told, despite the obvious influence of the church, it is more social, more the carrying on of a tradition and passing along of that tradition to the children, rather than a highly religious rite. 


After the Palm Saturday/Sunday processions, described in an earlier post, the next one took place on Maundy Thursday evening.  I had asked a street cleaning lady what time it would happen, and she had filled me in.  But the biggest day for processions, here in Alozaina, was Good Friday.  Mrs. Lima, our favorite grocer, had already warned us that she would not be open that day.  We anticipated the events, not knowing times or exactly what to expect. When we heard the drums around noon, we sprang into action.  Friday was warm and sunny - and the plaza was crowded.  It was a perfect day for gathering in the plaza to greet neighbors and friends who had returned to the village for the Easter weekend.   Despite the serious occasion, there was a slightly festive feel to the gathering.  Little boys had had their hair cut, little girls wore new tights, young women tottered along on sky-high heels, the elders were dressed in church clothes.  

In all, there were 5 different floats, each distinguished by the robes that the participants wore and, of course, by the statues dominating the floats.  I have LOTS of photos!



Most of the confradias are composed of men, but this was a female "sisterhood".  







A few of the costumes included pointed hoods with eye holes.  A bit alarming in their resemblance to KKK hoods - but no relationship, I've read.  

A few women marched in black dresses and traditional lacy mantilla headcoverings held high with combs.

Two kids had a wonderful time swinging the smoky incense pot.  Well, HE had a wonderful time.  She apparently wrangled it away from him for a brief interlude but he had it back again very soon.  Who wants to swing a small basket? 



Easter Sunday's procession was smaller, just one float and this one carried by women.  The risen Jesus reigned from atop.  Children carrying ceramic bells led the way.  It was sweet - but I couldn't help but think of the women who would need to return home to cook a big dinner!   



So this brings us to the end of Semana Santa (Holy Week) in Spain.  As always, these processions are compelling for us.  They harken back to times of such antiquity and mystery and devotion, especially for a couple of Protestants reared with much less pageantry.  

On Tuesday, Bruce and I will fly from nearby Malaga and make our way to the starting points for our long hikes: Porto, Portugal, for him and Winchester, England, for me.  We will each begin hiking on Friday, April 1, an apt date for seniors attempting to walk 100+ miles!  Bruce's hiking companion is our Gorham friend, Don Bouchard.  Mine are two PEI cousins, Dori and Peggy.  We will have 2.5 weeks to "get 'er done", at which point Bruce and I will meet up in Dublin and then return home in time for spring in Maine.  That's the plan, anyway :).  

Thursday, March 24, 2016

Un Momento de Silencio

Un Momento de Silencio            March 24, 2016




We were walking along the street in Alozaina on Tuesday afternoon when we noticed the zeroxed flyer.  On closer inspection of the Spanish message, it was inviting everyone in town to a gathering at noon the next day.  The purpose was to stand together against the barbarity of the bombings in Brussels that very morning.  The event had been initiated by the Federation of Municipal Mayors.  We were astounded that a town the size of Alozaina could be and would wish to be so rapidly responsive to a world event.  We were determined to be there the next day (not difficult with an essentially blank schedule of activities).

So, on Wednesday at noon, a small group of locals and ex-pats gathered in front of town hall (the ayuntamiento), exchanging quiet, warm greetings, neighborly smiles, as well as kisses on both cheeks and gentle hugs.  For the ex-pats, I'm sure that this was a meaningful time, heavy with the awareness that we all travel through airports and subways in large cities to arrive in Alozaina. For the locals, it's a reminder that every European shares in the fate of this current grip of terrorist horror.   The simple statement of purpose - compassion for the victims and solidarity against barbarous acts of violence - expressed in Spanish and translated into English, took no longer than a moment itself, followed by the moment of silence.  

In that moment, I prayed for the victims and their families, as well as for the perpetrators with their misguided hatred and for their families.  

And then we slowly, peacefully had a few private words with each other, reaching out to newcomers and old friends alike, before going back to our lives.  

Bravo for this little town and its heartfelt gesture.  






  

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

A Quiet Week in Alozaina

A Quiet Week in Alozaina                  March 22, 2016



It's been a quiet week here in Lake Wobegon, rather in Alozaina :)! Bruce has been under the weather, struggling to shake off the last vestiges of the stomach flu.  We've spent days just reading, resting, doing household stuff, napping, keeping warm by the wood stove most days (temps are not balmy here in the hills) or sitting out on the deck on sunny days - with occasional forays up into our little town.  

This followed a burst of delightful socializing during our first weekend, when our PEI cousins had an overnight visit with us, prompting a little dinner party with our old friends, Rod and Alice Friend. Alice is an accomplished folk singer from Vancouver; and cousin, Brian Ellis, is a member of an award-winning family band from Prince Edward Island.  Both are skilled guitar players.  After dinner, we had a kitchen party here in Alozaina and felt privileged to be the audience!  


                             Alice playing folk songs, while Rod looks on.

The next day was fun, sharing our "typical pueblo blanco" with Brian and wife, Norma.  Their month in Malaga was their first trip to Spain, and they hadn't seen much outside of the big city.  So we strolled around Alozaina and then inevitably found our way to Bar Nuevo for beers and the menu del dia. They were lovely guests, and we were so pleased with their serendipitous appearance in our lives.  




All too soon, we were confined to the quiet of our self-imposed seclusion, as a result of the nasty bug that had laid claim to Bruce.  By the time that this past weekend rolled around, he was feeling a bit better and we were both ready for some diversion. We had invited another British friend for Saturday lunch.  I hadn't made Spanish tortillas for a while.  When they turn out well, they are oh-so-yummy.  This one was a keeper!  The afternoon was filled with interesting conversation about Britain's proposed exit from the EU and America's scary politics and the life of an ex-pat in southern Spain.  It's amazing how many activities are available here and in the surrounding area, including several singing groups, flamenco gatherings, theater groups, Spanish/English conversation groups, art groups.  Another friend, Jon Stein, had told us about a new "time bank" here in Alozaina, as well as various initiatives for sustainability.  Wow, all this in a small town of 2000!  

While we were lounging around our house this past week, Semana Santa (Holy Week) crept up on us.  On a Saturday evening outing to the town plaza - just behind our house and up about 100 stairs! - we happened upon a tiny little procession.  


Bruce is climbing some of the cement stairs leading to the town plaza.  

This parade was composed of about 20 "pilgrims" walking from a nearby town, two women in the lead carrying big blazing torches to light the night air and two other women carrying a cross made from sturdy tree branches with a wooden figure of Jesus on it.  The rest of group, following behind, was made up of all ages.  No band, no groups of men in robes - in fact, no special costumes at all.  It was much more simple and informal than the processions that we had seen in Guatemala.  Somehow, its simplicity accentuated its aura of devotion and authenticity.  The pilgrims broke into song as they entered the plaza, then made their way straight to evening mass at Santa Ana, the church that overlooks the village.  

The next day, Palm Sunday, Bruce's procession-radar was again working well.   Around 5 pm, we unexpectedly encountered a children's procession, everyone clad in shepherd's garb, carrying tall palm branches that waved high over their heads.  One of the kids, in the role of Jesus, rode a donkey into town.  The young, orange-robed local priest held a microphone and led the entourage in singing as they entered the square.  It was raining softly so they didn't linger but made their way to Santa Ana for another mass.  





The donkey was not invited to mass and waited near us, entertaining himself by looking at his reflection in the glass and trying to eat olive branches being held by onlookers.   



Never mind that this was Sunday - and Palm Sunday at that - our usual selection of cafe/bars were open and thriving as we continued up the main street.  We stopped into our favorite, Bar Nuevo.  It was full of noisy men watching a futbol game on the big screen tv.  We made our way to a quiet table in the back with a view of Sierra Prieta mountain out of the picture window and settled in for a beer and a plate of shrimp.  It was good to get out of the house for a bit.  

Today our brief excursion took us to the Lima family's "supermercado", next to Bar Nuevo on Calle Calvario.  It's about the size of the laundramat in Gorham and filled with virtually everything that you could need, IF you can find it, from rice cakes to window draperies and fresh lettuce.  We emerged with two bulging shopping bags.  We wonder if they shake their heads at the amount of food being consumed by these Americans, even when one is on a bland diet!  Our goal this week is to get Bruce back on the road, literally, before he hits the real road in Portugal next week!  


                                  The title Ahorro means "saving".

Our artist friends have websites where you can learn about their work:
Rod Friend, stained glass & pastel artist:  www.rodfriend.com
Alice Friend, artist & author:  www.holyspiritwisdomcards.com
Brian Ellis, musician: www.theellisfamilyband.com
Jon Stein, musician, writer, blogger: www.jonstein.co.uk/blog