Camino mío

21/09/2012

Take me away from the city and lead me to where I can be on my own.  (Bagatelle, 1980)

It is the ‘Fiesta de San Mateo’. They have been celebrating it all week but today it is the finale and Moises tells me that there will be many ‘borrachos’ (drunks) tonight. Since college is closed today I decide to walk up to the statue of El Cristo, which has been staring down at me from the hilltop since my arrival over three weeks ago.

Carrying my backpack which holds two bananas, a bottle of water, my camera, mis gafas del sol, and wearing my baseball cap and Bermuda shorts I set off with no real idea of how long it will take. Moises tells me it will take about three hours to walk to the statue. Paco assures me forty minutes to an hour… The statue is very close as the crow flies but it is on a very steep hillside. The road winds leisurely back and forth to reach it. Ten minutes walking from the flat I am at the base of the hill.

Immediately there is a steep incline, it is a narrow pathway from the main road up through some fields. I walk slowly and steadily to conserve energy. Maybe I should have had some breakfast before I left, I think to myself. It is now 11.00am. Should I be walking up the side of a steep hill as the sun is rising to its highest point? Crazy fool! Although it is September the temperature at the moment is 25 degrees and already I am being to sweat. I pass two old women who stand at a gate chatting. They greet me and I reply with ‘Buenos días señoras’. They smile and turn back to their conversation. Further up the path two butterflies accompany me for a while, one orange the other green and yellow. Their dancing is too erratic for me to get a proper photograph. Soon I come to the main road that leads up to El Cristo. Other walkers are ahead of me, I greet yet more as they come down the steep road. A cyclist in all the gear passes me as he makes his way uphill, his arse out of the saddle, swinging methodically from side to side. I like to walk, the steady low impact motion helps me to focus and concentrate.

I think about my first week in college. I call to mind the people who approach me and introduce themselves. Alberto is an elderly gentleman who also speaks English very well. While we sit in the linguistics lecture he turns to me and asks if I’m following everything; this makes me smile. Juan Carlos, a young guy in his twenties from Peru asks me if I would consider signing up for the Tandem Programme as he hasn’t got an English speaking partner yet with whom he can intercambiar. Nesli, a woman from Turkey approaches me in the library. She is doing her doctorate on comparative literature and is spending the year in Oviedo to improve her Spanish. I have seen her in my Spanish Literature class. We talk for about ten minutes about how difficult it is to understand the lectures and marvel at the intricate and occult details of the timetable. In the English literature classes I marvel at the students’ high level of English. The lecturers are very supportive and at different times I am stopped in the corridor for a chat and enquiries are made as to how I am doing. Another lecturer replies to my email, assuring me that I am not bothering him and that if I have any more doubts about anything I am to let him know.

I stop at the side of the road to take some water. High above me I hear a droning noise, it is someone flying a motorised hang-glider, I look up and the sweat stings my eyes. Soon I come to an old church of historic and cultural value; at least that is what the sign says. There are guided tours around this area, but not today, it is the feast day of Saint Matthew. 

 I spot my first lizard on the side of the road and take a photo before he disappears. More cyclists pass me heading up the winding road and soon I come to a restaurant named ‘Buenos Aires’. A fitting name, the air is indeed good up here. The smell of cooking teases me, there is a heavy charcoal smell; must be a barbeque. I think of the bananas in my bag and decide not to bother just yet. Families, heading up to have picnics at the summit, pass me in their cars. The children look at me through the back window as the car disappears around the next curve.

Eventually I am starting to believe that the road is not going to lead to El Cristo but is in fact going to lead me to somewhere else such as Barcelona or Valencia. Then I see it, a sign pointing out a pedestrian pathway, a short cut up to the statue. It won’t be long now, I think. The path is almost vertical and I have to stop half way up to catch my breath. I drink some more water and wipe my forehead and eyes with my handkerchief. I realize my tee-shirt is saturated and that I can actually squeeze the water from it. The clouds cover the sun and it gets much cooler. The sweat on my body cools accordingly. I wish I had brought a second tee-shirt. 

 I have a feeling I am being watched. I take a photo of the steep path and then resolve to continue on...

At last I reach him. He stands there, arms wide open to welcome me. It has taken me just one hour and forty minutes.

 There are people there, looking out over the city of Oviedo. German and French tourists take photos of the landscape and pose beside the pedestal. I stand and gaze up; the sun comes out again and shines upon him. 

As I stand at the very base and look up I get a feeling of vertigo, as if I am about to fall off the planet and plunge into the deep and wide open sky.

After I take a few photos I sit down to take some nourishment and look out upon the city. I can see the Campus de Milan where I attend college. I can see the apartment block where I live, I can see the Campus de San Francisco in the centre of the city. On the horizon shrouded in a haze sit more mountains. All around for 360 degrees there are mountains. The sound of church bells ringing below in the city travels up to the summit. The noise of traffic can’t reach up this far. I send a text to mi novia, telling her where I am and that she will have to come here with me sometime. She replies that she would love to. Te extraño cariño.

I sit there for half an hour, taking in the view and thinking about life, the universe and everything. My thoughts go out to my grandmother. Having been told earlier by phone that she has been taken very ill, I sit and think about her. I remember times spent with her when I was a child. She has always been very good to me. She is a very strong woman of ninety one years of age; I hope she will pull through and that I will see her again.

It is time to go back to the flat. I may head out later for a drink and to see Oviedo in full fiesta mode but I also have a mountain of reading to do. I have climbed one hill today but the college work won’t be surmounted quite so quickly.

Hasta pronto amigos

Eileen Curtis RIP

4th September 1921 - 22nd September 2012

I´m sorry I didn´t say goodbye when I had the chance.