An interesting notice

I hope that the non-resident dogs can read!

Football

Someone handing out leaflets in Madrid joked that this would be "zero zero". It's being shown in the bar downstairs from here, but I haven't heard any cheering yet, so maybe the chap in Madrid was right - or maybe everybody's watching it in their own flats.

And another restaurant

Shops and restaurants.......

Shops.....

Where I'm staying

My apartment is the middle one in the left-hand end of this block. The view posted a couple of days ago was from the living room, which is the other side.

Spanish Holiday Villages

Hello! Pilgrim's managed to get a look in at long last! This is because I'm using the computer in the Club House where I'm staying, rather than the fancy, if temperamental, mobile phone. It's certainly quicker to type on this keyboard, but I can't post photos. I might be able to if I'd brought all the right wires and CD roms, but I'm supposed to be travelling light - it's bad enough having to carry chargers for everything, and a plug adaptor, without any more equpiment!

I've had another wander round the complex this morning, and even gone a few hundred yards up the road to the next one. Although I've seen pictures of Spanish holiday resorts, not to mention hopeful purchasers of holiday homes on programmes like A Place in the Sun, I had never really imagined quite what it is like here. Clearly there was nothing along this bit of coast 30 or so years ago, and now there are miles and miles of these villages built just so that people can come here on holiday or to retire. The newness gives it all a bit of a wild west frontier kind of feel. Almost everywhere one goes in the world there are new buildings - it just seems strange for there to be no old ones at all. I haven't found the beach yet, although I gather that there is one only a short walk away - the other side of a dual carriageway which is to all intents and purposes a motor-way. Fortunately there are footbridges to cross by, although they do shake rather alarmingly when a big lorry speeds by underneath!

The last couple of days have been an opportunity to reflect back on the business of travelling itself. Since I left Saumur, I've had a strange variety of experiences of travel. Because of the much lower differential between first and second class in France and Spain, I've done the long journeys in first class - in Spain you even get fed, like on Eurostar, so that pretty well makes up for the extra cost of the fare. The shorter, local trips I've done second class - most of these trains don't even have a first. Getting to and from the station, I've used buses where I can, although in some cases I've had to resort to taxis. I also discovered the joys of the Madrid Metro.

When I was organising the various hotels along the way, I sorted the options on the booking web-site by "cheapest room" and went for the first one that had reasonably decent customer reviews. There is something interestingly incongruous about being pampered in a first class railway carriage with warm hand-wipes, free newspapers and cooked breakfast, then being taken by taxi to a hostel-like establishment above a souvenir shop with rooms the size of shoe-boxes, and walls so thin that you could hear every word of conversation in the room next door.

I've never really travelled abroad alone before. As a child I travelled with my parents, and before I met Roger I did one solo trip to Greece, but in an organised party. Since we got married, I've been off my own in the UK a few times, but the only time I went abroad without Roger was to Israel, again in a group. I wondered what it would feel like, and I've actually found it surprisingly relaxing. To know that, whatever difficulties you get into, the only person who is going to get you out of them is yourself or God is quite liberating. As is the knowledge that however stupid or disorganised you are, the only person to suffer will be you! The biggest problem I've encountered is having to take my luggage with me to the loo in bus and train stations; although even that had its uses in Cordoba bus station - a suitcase makes a good door lock!

Now, here I am in a place where millions of English people come on their annual pilgrimage to the sun. The weather is very pleasant in late April, but I'm sure I'd find it too hot, as well as too noisy and crowded, in July and August. I'm off to Granada and the Alhambra tomorrow, which will be the first time I have seen much of the European Muslim heritage - the architecture in the north of Spain has some Moorish influences, but this area was in the hands of the Moors for much longer.

A lazy day

This morning I sorted out day trips to various places over the next two weeks. The reason I chose to come and stay at this complex was because it is possible to go on guided tours of places that are not all that easy to get to alone. I'm looking forward to visits to the Alhambra Palace, Seville, Gibraltar, Tangier and a mountain train ride to Ronda.

After this I went and sussed out the shops in the complex - many were of course not open on Saturday evening or Sunday. I think some people are concerned about my being so far from home on my own; well, I can tell you that the biggest danger here is not getting my "5 portions" every day. There are two English butchers and an English pie shop, but no greengrocer! One of the minimarkets sells a bit of fresh fruit and veg, but not much.

After all this activity, I came back to the apartment, ate my pasty from the pie shop, and went to sleep. I need to recharge my batteries a bit after all the travelling last week.

My concept of time is bit strange at the moment. It's three weeks since Roger and I sailed away from the UK, but in some ways it doesn't seem all that long. So many people back home are in my thoughts and prayers that it seems very recently that I've seen everyone. It is 10 days since Roger waved me off at Saumur station before he headed back home, and that seems a very long time ago. I seem to have managed to cram so much into the time that my brain is telling me that I must have been travelling for weeks - and my feet are inclined to agree!

Plaza Mayor (2)

Artists in the square.

Plaza Mayor, Madrid

You can sit and eat or drink in the pavement cafes. It's not as classy as San Marco in Venice, but they don't charge you to sit down here!

Royal Convent, Madrid

This was founded for nuns who were members of European royal families. It has a lot of major art works brought by the royal ladies. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see them, as it was closed on Friday afternoons.

So I went and had chocolate con churros instead. Not having been to Spain, I wasn't familiar with this particular delicacy - a cup of melted chocolate with long, thin doughnut-like things to dip in it. Just as well I left Madrid the next morning, or I wouldn't have been able to get into my tiny room after a few more!

Madrid Cathedral (3)

Madrid Cathedral (2)

The cathedral was started in the 19th century and only completed in the 1990s. It is interesting mixture of neo-gothic and ultra-modern.

Madrid Cathedral

Next to the palace - this picture is taken from the courtyard.

Note the crane - Madrid seems to be one massive building site. Even the place I was staying was covered in scaffolding.

Madrid street performance artist

There were lots of these people around, nearly all covered in paint or plaster. They had little pots for collecting money - I don't know how much they make, but whatever is I reckon they earn it!

Am I back in England?

Apart from this view from my window, I'd think I'd found my way back home! Even the view is not, as it appears, a traditional Spanish village, but a holiday complex built in the 1980s. It is basically a bit of England in Spain - last night I had a take-away from the Thai restaurant down the road while watching "Have I got news for you". I decided I couldn't quite cope with the idea traditional Sunday roast in the restaurant downstairs today, but after cooking a Spanish vac-pac of chicken in honey and mustard that tasted like foam rubber in brine, I rather wished I had!

I spent much of yesterday in Cordoba bus and train stations. I couldn't go anywhere because there was nowhere to leave my luggage. The battery on the phone was getting a bit low, so I couldn't even post the rest of my Madrid photos on the blog. There's something quite relaxing about knowing there is absolutely nothing one can do except sit and read until the bus goes.

The bus journey turned out to be well over four hours! I didn't think it would be that long, because tne holiday place's website described Cordoba as a possible day-trip for people staying here without a hire-car. It would technically be possible - if you got the morning bus, you'd just have time for lunch in the bus station before getting the afternoon bus back!

Anyway, the apartment is very nice, and seems huge after spending three nights in a room where I could quite literally touch both walls at the same time!

This morning I went to tne English church in San Pedro. I'm afraid I found myself committing the sin of envy; they worship in a very nice modern chapel which is part of the hall of the Roman Catholic church. Much as I love our beautiful, large listed buildings, I could see the attraction of a comfortable, modern place of worship with no responsibilty for maintenance. However, the vicar had to dash off to drive 40kms for the next service - I didn't envy him that! They were a very nice, friendly congregation, and the vicar had even taken the trouble to ask someone who lives in this direction to give me a lift back.

Yet another station

I've arrived in Cordoba, but there's no bus to where I want to go for hours. Just as well, because I'm now in an incredibly slow-moving queue to buy my train ticket to go to Santander in fortnight's time.

Another view of the palace

There were lots of tourists even at this time of year.

The royal palace at Madrid

This is where I spent yesterday morning. It's very spectacular both inside and out. It's not where the royal family lives now, but is still used for official functions.

Where am I?

Believe it or not, this is Atocha Station in Madrid! What appears to be the original railway area is now this rather impressive concourse with a tropical garden in the centre.

It's 7.20am and I'm far too early for my train. The hotel booked me a taxi, but I wanted to give myself an alternative option in case it didn't arrive, so I asked for it with time to spare. In fact, it turned up on the dot of 7.00am.

A very nice young Italian lady was outside looking for a taxi to the airport, so we shared it to here, then she carried on. She had lived in Derby for a time with her (now ex) boyfriend who worked for Rolls Royce.

Both the main stations in Madrid are very modern - I came in at the other one on Wednesday. The signs are in Spanish and English, and here the announcements are even in both languges.

A security guard is going round waking up people who've obviously slept here. Security is very tight at the stations, presumably since the terrorist attack a few years ago. This station obviously wakes up at 7.30! The lighting had been fairly subdued, then there was a loud 'bong' and all the bright lights came on.

I'm sad about Avila

I left Avila feeling really saddened. The Convent of St Teresa is still an active order of nuns, and as a Christian, especially as a priest, I find it very sad that they see visitors as nothing more than a nuisance. Some, like me, are genuinely devoted to their saint; but surely those who just come as tourists might leave as something more if they were given the chance.

As a woman I am sad that the first woman to be recognised by the Roman Catholic Church as a Doctor of the Church (in 1970), and who was declared Patron Saint of Spain in 1811, should be accorded so little reconition by her home town.

As an ordinary tourist, I am sad to have made the effort to go to a town which did not want me. (Even the chap in the Railway ticket office had clearly not forgotten the Armada!)

Despite its World Heritage status, the only guide or leaflet available in anything other than Spanish was the little map I received at the visitor centre, which was printed in Spanish and English. I bought a DVD at the San Jose Convent which is supposed to be in Spanish, French and English, so it will be interesting to see what's on that.

I wonder whether a recent increase in the number of tourists to the heritage site has made the churches feel invaded. I am troubled however that the heritage status clearly tries to play down Avila's most famous daughter. I can only hope and pray that, in time, those guarding Teresa's heritage will come to see the visitors as a gift from God, and those guarding the built heritage will realise that the the city's saint is their greatest asset.

Church of San Pedro

I don't think this church had anything to do with St Teresa - I just came across it because I was confused by the map. It felt much more like a place of prayer, and was more welcoming to visitors. It had a polite notice asking tourists to respect services, rather than ordering them out. In fact, I only narrowly avoided attending a local funeral!

Statue and plaque over the door

Teresa's first convent

This was the first house that Teresa founded. I didn't get to see the church here either - as I came out of the little museum, the guy in charge went and locked the church, even though it was 20 minutes before closing time.

Avila Cathedral

I didn't get to see inside - there was restoration work going on, and it was completely blocked off, even though the builders only seemed to be at the far end.

St Teresa's Garden

This little garden is where she played as a child.

Another view of the chapel

Tne right way up

I think I might have posted this picture sideways last night - not sure if it was tiredness or a reflection of my state of mind.

I was not impressed with Avila, doubly disappointing as I am so attached to St Teresa. I followed signs to the visitor centre, an impressive modern edifice in the shadow of the ancient city walls. Although a large building, it housed only a few static displays and a desk with one receptionist. She gave me a map of the of the town which showed a large number of places of interest. She circled the main sites connected with St Teresa, which was interesting as I did not tell her that was what I wanted.

It didn't strike me as strange at the time, as I assumed that must be why most people would go there. Only reading the map-cum-leaflet later did I find that it made no reference to the saint, except her connection with certain buildings. It seems that the walled old city is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and the leaflet was devoted to extolling the architecture. It was also very confusing as it had two sets of numbers for the buildings, only one of which related to the numbers on the map.

I eventually found this convent, which is supposed to be the primary place of pilgrimage for those devoted to Teresa. Sadly, visitors are treated as tourists, not as pilgrims, and pretty unwelcome ones at that! The section that houses the saint's relics, and has a small bookshop, was manned by someone who made it very clear that all he really wanted was to be left alone to read his book.

The church had an aggressively worded sign telling tourists not to come in during services, and lots of notices saying "silence". It was noticeable that no-one seemed to feel moved to be silent, perhaps because there was no atmosphere of prayer - a marked contrast to Lourdes where thousands of people made little noise at all. It was the absence of prayer that was so upsetting, since Teresa believed that teaching her nuns to pray was the key to everything. There was not a single notice inviting visitors to pray. The only thing there was a curious coin-operated device for lighting flickering electric candles. (I saw one later in another church - perhaps there's a ban on real candles because of the fire risk.)

The most pleasant place was the museum housed in the crypt. This had sacred music playing, and was well laid out with items relating to St Teresa and the subsequent history of her foundations - including a whole convent of nuns who were guillotined in the French reign of terror. (Someone has just written a play about it, according to an item I heard on the radio just before coming away.)

My experiences here weren't the end of my disillusionment with Avila. More pictures and travellers' tails later. I'm going cross-eyed looking at tnis tiny screen!

St Teresa of Avila

This is the Convent of St Teresa in Avila from whence I am now returning on the train.

St Teresa is one of my favourite Saints - a woman of God who was prepared to stand up for what she believed at a time when women were expected to do what they were told.

I had to give up writing at this point because the train was rocking too much. It was also late - surprise surprise! It's past 11.00pm here, and I've only been back a short time. This part of Madrid really comes to life at night, but I resisted the urge to stay out and party! I'm going to bed - will post more pictures and comments tomorrow.

One of hundreds like it

There must be an incredible number of visitors to support so many shops. And they all come out of love for Jesus and His mother. Who says reigion has had its day?

Even in the hurley burley of the streets, but especially at the shrine itself, there was something very moving about so many nationalities coming together in the name of Christ. It reminded me of when I was in Jerusalem at Pentecost some years ago, and being among people speaking in so many different languages made it feel like the description of the first Pentecost.

The wrong image

This is the image that the name of Lourdes can conjur up, and it is true that I have never seen so many souvenir shops in one place. But it would be dreadful to think that is all it is. The shops are in the town, not the shrine itself. Inside, tnere is only a discreetly placed bookshop, and places to buy candles.

I would urge anyone who visits to go to shrine and not be put off by the roads approaching it. Even having said that, I was struck by the huge array of very inexpensive items. Even those who were not well off would be able to go home with gifts for friends and family.

Statue of Our Lady

Note the flowers on the railings. The devotion to Mary is obviously very strong, but it is also very clear in everything that we are asking her to point us to Jesus. The central inscription in the new church is "par Marie a Jesus", and in another place we asked to pray "Mary, show us your Son"

Telephones!!

If, after the trials of the last few weeks, I needed any confirmation that phones are the instruments of the devil, I got it at Lourdes.

The only sound of anger or distress that I heard while I was there came from the gentleman making a call in this picture. A moment before, he was trying to beat the phone to death - I have no doubt that he was entirely justified!

Waiting to visit the Grotto

The site of the shrine is so vast it's difficult to convey with photographs. There was a very long queue of people (on the left of the picture) waiting to go to tne Grotto, and another queue (in the middle of the picture) of disabled people. The sick and disabled are pushed around in a fleet of blue bath-chairs.

Despite the huge numbers of people, there was everywhere a wonderful atmosphere of peace and calm, and hardly any noise. The sense of prayer and spiritual joy was everywhere. At any given time there were various services happening in different places, so prayer and singing could always be heard in tne air.

The church at Lourdes

This is the church built near St Bernardette's Grotto. In fact it's two churches, the one on top built in the 19th century, and a bigger one underneath built more recently. You literally walk over the top of the new church to get to the old one.

Viva l'Espagne

Have arrived safely in Madrid. The place I am staying is definitively more hostel than hotel - the chap on the desk took one look at me and asked if I'd like to pay an extra 7 euros for a bigger room. I don't know whether that was a comment on my size or my age! I said I'd stick with the single room - it's a bit cell-like, but clean and with all necessities.

There was some great excitement down the road just now - some celebrities coming out of somewhere. I asked very excited young English girl staying here who tney were. She was amazed when I said I'd never heard of the Back Street Boys - obviously as bad as the notorious 'what is a Beatle?' remark of the 1960s! Anyway, I'm privileged to have seen the tops of their heads above a lot of screaming teenagers.

I'm hoping to be able to post the Lourdes pictures later - the phone was playing up again yesterday when I got back.

The Church

The gate

Note the statue of Mary set into the niche above the gate.

Weary and heavy laden

A seat built into the town gate near the church so that poor and sick pilgrims could wait to be admitted to the charity hospice.

Things to buy and places to stay

It is not easy to tell who genuinely offers services to pilgrims and who is just cashing in on them and other tourists - but, judging from the warnings to medieval pilgrims, it was ever thus!

Shells everywhere

Help and advice for pilgrims

The Pyranees

Even through the clouds, the mountains look daunting.

To be a pilgrim

I've just come back from St Jean Pied de Port, which is the place from which Compostela pilgrims have set off across the Pyranees for a thousand years or more. Going up the valley on the train was very picturesque, despite the weather, but it would have been hard work walking, especially in the pouring rain.

We think that we know so much about health, nutrition, etc but the medieval pilgrims must have been much fitter than most people today. They didn't have the benefit of lightweight waterproof clothing, or the choice of going by train, and had to eat whatever was available, not worry about calories, cholesterol or whether they'd had 5 portions of fruit and veg.

There are still plenty of people today who choose to walk the road to Compostela. I had a fascinating conversation with a German gentleman who did it last year, and is now doing a stint as a volunteer at the centre which offers advice to those setting off across the mountains. It's necessary because a lot of people don't realise how hard going it is, and don't understand how the weather can change. Apparently, people do still die in the mountains, and very recently two ladies were only just found in time, before they died of hypothermia.

My German friend was also telling me about the different reasons people do the walk. Many are Roman Catholics, but many are other denominations or none. He is a Lutheran who retired early at 60, having been a lay worker with the industrial mission. It was the first time that he had had the chance to do anything without a rigid timescale. People do the walk for many different reasons, but even those who say that it has nothing to do with religion nearly always go to the celebration in the cathedral when they arrive.

Man cannot live by bread alone

Before coming away I found the details of the Anglican Chaplaincy in Biarritz on the "A Church Near You" website, and had hoped to worship with them today. However when I phoned yesterday to ask the time of the service, I found that there wasn't one today, as there had been a big service yesterday to instal a new chaplain. Hence a day being a tourist - must have been in God's plan!

This area is very much part of the Basque country, with all the road signs etc in French and Basque. Food-wise it's not easy to tell whether you're in France, Spain or somewhere else; I've just eaten a very nice plate of paella, at the same place as I had gaspacho and thon basquaise last night. One friend suggested that this was just a gourmet tour, and I keep being reminded of this when I'm reading restaurant menus. But one does have to eat, and Jesus did tell His disciples to eat the local food - or something of the sort!

Sand sculpture

Earler on I watched this being created. The blue at the bottom edge is a sheet for collection coins. There didn't seem to be all that much money for such a lot of work.

Protected by Mary

Although this bit of coast is quite sheltered, the little port is surrounded by vicious rocks, and must be difficult to enter and leave. In this picture you can just see the statue of Our Lady keeping watch out to sea from the highest rock.

The Little Train

The Old Port

Apparently this was an ancient fishing port, then the fish went away in the 1600s and the inhabitants became smugglers and pirates - that's what the commentary on the little train said anyway!

Standing up to be counted

This was one of the only surfers I saw riding a wave. Mostly they were just wallowing around, and occasionally disappearing underneath!

A glimpse of former glory

Biarritz is no longer the fashionable watering place of the Victorians and Edwardians, or millionaires' playground of the 1950s. It is just a family holiday resort, and place loved by surfers. It reminds me a bit of Newquay!

Another sort of pilgrimage

Even though the weather is not that good, considering how far south we are, the beaches were packed with French people making the most of their Sunday afternoon.

It's almost sunny!

The rain's stopped for the moment, and it's reasonably warm, so I've packed myself a picnic to go and eat on this little beach at the end of the road.

The Charlemagne Tower

This gives an idea of the size

The picture shows a bit of the new church, and the clock tower (which was part of the original building) in the distance. The Charlemagne tower - another surviving fragment - is hidden behind the shop awning.

St Martin's Basilica

This is the Basilica built in the 19th century. The original one was damaged in various wars and largely destroyed after the Revolution. It's a great pity, as the medieval one must have been spectacular. The current one is a very substantial church, as big as some cathedrals, and only occupies a fraction of the area of the old one - much of which is now a shopping street.

The current shrine is in the crypt and was created quite recently on the site of St Martin's tomb. It is a lovely place for quiet and prayer.

Martin was a Roman soldier who met a beggar suffering in the cold. He cut his cloak in half to share with the beggar; that night he dreamt that he saw Christ wrapped in the cloak, and was converted to Christianity. "As much as ye did this for the least of my brethren ......"

I got here - at last!

I really do feel like a Pilgrim at the moment. I arrived in Biarritz 45 minutes late - so much Train Grande Vitesse, this was was definitely Train Tres Lent!

The hotel blurb on the web site said buses come very close to the hotel from the station. I still haven't found out if that's true, but the bus driver I found wasn't into helping English tourists! I got off in an unlikely-looking suburb and walked a couple of miles before I found the hotel. At least my suitcase is on wheels, but I still felt as if I was seeing Canterbury Cathedral rising out of the mist when I found the road I was looking for.

Another day another station

I'm on Bordeaux station waiting for another late train - I feel really at home!

When (if?!) I get to Biarritz, I'll try to post some pictures of St Martin's.

Off on the next stage

I'm waiting on Saumur station for a train that's 10 minutes late. When it comes it will take me to Tours, where I can see what's left of St Martin's Basilica.

It's raining hard and the forecast isn't good for the next few days!

People have asked me what the church is on the background to the heading. It is the church of the Maison Dieu at Parthanay, which was a major stopping point on the Medieval route to Compostela for pilgrims going south from Tours.

English monarchs at Fontevraud Abbey

Richard I, Henry II, Eleanor of Aquitaine - Henry's wife, and Isabelle of Angouleme - wife of King John.