Ernest Hemingway and the Camino

When I reached the Hostal Burguete, early on the third morning of my pilgrimage, I paused to read the sign out front that detailed how important the hostel and the town of Burguete had been to Ernest Hemingway. Taking a deep breath to gather my courage, I stepped inside the quaint inn. The owner, who was coming out of the kitchen, saw my hiking gear and said, "I'm sorry, we only serve breakfast for guests."

"I understand," I replied. "I'm hoping you can do me an enormous favor. I teach literature and I recently read The Sun Also Rises. I was touched by the affection with which Hemingway writes about this hostel."

The owner smiled, appreciative that I had understood that his inn and the town had been the only oasis of peace for the central character, Jake, Hemingway's alter ego. Jake finds refuge here before being reunited with his highly dysfunctional circle of expat friends who are on their way to Pamplona from Paris. In Burguete, Jake's days are filled with trout fishing, plenty of wine, and one leisurely stroll along the Camino to Roncesvalles and back. It is the only true calm the character experiences in The Sun Also Rises.

"May I see the piano?" I asked.

The owner smiled, nodded, and then led me into the empty dining room. He pointed to the far wall where an old but well preserved upright piano stood. I stared at it with reverence before approaching it slowly. Without touching, I examined the top and the cover of the keys. The hostel owner observed me all along, smiling and with his arms crossed.

"I give up," I said. "Where is it?"?

He stepped forward and, gingerly, lifted the top lid. There, carved with a penknife and varnished over delicately it said:

E. Hemingway

25-7-1923

The Nobel Prize winning author carved his name on the musical instrument during his first visit to Burguete. He would return three more times before the true life experiences occurred that would inspire his first novel.

Hemingway's presence in Burguete is discrete. In Pamplona, on the other hand, he's a giant. There is a monument in his honor next to the Plaza de Toros, and the boulevard that runs alongside it carries his name. What's more, the plaque on the monument credits Hemingway with putting the city, the Fiestas de San Fermin, and the traditional running of the bulls on the world map. In essence, the people of Pamplona have adopted Hemingway as one of their own.

But Hemingway also acknowledged his debt to the people of Burguete and Pamplona. The Sun Also Rises went on to become a best-selling novel and introduced a new star on the American literary horizon. And Hemingway repaid the debt by continuing to write about this region of Spain.

The American writer's love and appreciation of the vitality and humanity of Spain and Latin America's cultures are well known to his readers. But what perhaps is not well known is that this passion started along the Camino de Santiago, in a small town named Burguete.

From History, to Legend, to Literature

The trails of the Camino de Santiago de Compostela are rife with centuries worth of stories, and I intend to experience as many of them as I can. Reimagining how events may have taken place and then reconstructing them is the aspect of writing fiction that I find most rewarding. That is why I chose the Valcarlos route--by far the less popular--to cross the Pyrenees.

When I was a graduate student in Spanish literature, in one class we studied the Romancero, ballads of old of unknown authorship and date of origin. These had been passed down through generations. In the beginning of the 20th century, a handful of wise scholars had the foresight to write them down before they vanished forever.

The set of ballads that at once caught my attention were those devoted to the deeds of Bernardo del Carpio--a Spanish hero, more myth than reality, whose greatest feat, according to the ballads, was to defeat and kill the French knight Roland in the Battle of the Pass of Roncesvalles.

There are two verses in particular in the Bernardo del Carpio cycle that I love. The verses appear in the last poem in which a grandmother tells her grandaughter the sad circumstances that forced Bernardo to slay the heroic Roland in battle. The verses are repeated at the end of each stanza, and they state:

¡Mala la hubisteis, franceses,
en esa de Roncesvalles!

(It didn't go well for you, French folk, 
in that battle of Roncesvalles!)

The first time I read this ballad, the name Roncesvalles became engraved in my mind.

Thirty years later, as I started to research the Camino in preparation for this pilgrimage, I was happy to learn that both routes that lead from Saint Jean Pied de Port over the Pyrenees end in Roncesvalles. And then I was surprised to learn that the community that was gigantic in my heart had only 20 inhabitants.

Monument to Roldan at Ibañeta Pass

What I find fascinating is that in spite of its size, Roncesvalles played a crucial role in the birth of chivalric literature, that is, tales of knights. Roland's heroic death, while commanding Charlemagne's rear guard as the troops returned from a six-year military campaign in Spain, resulted in Le Chanson de Roland. This French epic poem inspired medieval and renaissance authors to write about great tales of chivalry, such as those of King Arthur and his knights, Amadis de Gaula and, my personal favorite, Don Quijote de la Mancha.

And so, my personal pilgrimage, in addition to having a spiritual context, is also a journey into the origins of western European epic literature, which was also born on the Camino, near a small village named Roncesvalles.

Monument to the Battle in front of the

Roncesvalles Albergue

Today's Pilgrims

I arrived in Saint Jean Pied de Port. on the French foothills of the Pyrenees, on the last bus of the day from Pamplona. Dusk approachd steadily. Although I was excited about starting my pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, I felt out of place the moment I stepped off the bus. I was an uninvited guest who had walked into a party that was already in full swing. The pilgrims who had arrived well before me had completely taken possession of this quaint town.

But the locals seemed to welcome the invasion. Every bar and restaurant was full. The albergues--as I soon would learn in the Pilgrim's office--were almost full as well. The hiking equipment store across the street was packed with pilgrims making last minute purchases for their 800 kilometer journey over the Pyrenees and across northern Spain to visit the resting place of Saint James the Apostle.

Business is booming in the second most popular starting point along The Camino de Santiago de Compostela.

And the pilgrims come from near and far. The majority are Spaniards, but waiting in line with me are folks from Japan, Germany, Romania, the Netherlands. France, Korea, Italy, Israel, Portugal, Canada, and, the United States. As far as I can tell, I am the only Latino in the building.

The office sounds like a regular Tower of Babel. English, interestingly, is the lingua franca--the language the clerks and the pilgrims rely on when their mother tongues fail.

After registering and receiving my Pilgrim's passport, my advisor sends me to the last albergue that has openings. The German man who recently opened it, without my prodding, told me that walking The Camino inspired him to sell his business in Paris, buy the old four story building where his inn is located, and devote the remainder of his life to helping pilgrims. Throughout the centuries, Camino history shows that The Way has had this effect on countless individuals.

"I've chosen to be here because walking The Camino has shown me how the experience can transform a person's life for the better," he said in accented, yet perfect, English.

Thousands seem to concur. Over 200,000 pilgrims receive a Compostela--certificate of completion--every year for walking at least 100 kilometers. And the numbers are rising.

What calls people of every nationality, race, faith, and age to make this pilgrimage? On the registration form, one can choose from four different types of motivations: religious, spiritual, cultural, or sporting. In my case it's a combination of all four, with physical activity coming in last.

And yet walking The Way is such a personal experience that most folks I've met are unable to express with precision what drew them here.

Perhaps it's the grinding pace of life in today's world which makes us want to disconnect and walk long distances with a destination of spiritual significance in mind. This allows us, I believe, to think about what's really of importance in our lives.

Still, the rapid growth in The Camino's popularity has demanded an expanded network of support for the hundreds of thousands who are trekking each year across Iberia.

In the town of Arneguy, along the route that crosses the Pyrenees through Valcarlos, I stopped in the only bar to rest for a while and have a soda. Before long, I was engaged in conversation with Jose, the friendly owner.

"When I opened this bar," he said, "in 1978, only five pilgrims would pass by."

"Only five a day?" I asked, astounded at so few coming through.

"A day?" he scoffed. "Try a YEAR! Back then seeing a pilgrim was something special. We knew that person was someone with extraordinary faith. We would do everything to help. One of the local families would offer free lodging and I provided a free meal. Not anymore. Now the pilgrimage has become a form of tourism. Many walking The Camino today are not worthy of the title of pilgrim."

And as I left Jose's bar and continued down the path, I couldn't help but ask myself if I am worthy of being called a peregrino.

Things I’ll Carry on The Camino

Knowing what to carry in one’s backpack on the trail to Santiago de Compostela is serious business.

I’m not kidding.

There are books on the subject. I own two of them, in fact.

There’s a lot of consensus among veteran pilgrims regarding the essential items one needs: the right kind of footwear, the ideal type of socks to avoid blisters, the best quick drying clothes, the foolproof rain gear, the ultimate backpack, and the list goes on and on. Still, in spite of the general agreement, every single item is open to debate.

What is paramount is to travel light. The lighter the pilgrim’s load, the easier the journey will be on the body.

Without exaggeration, I’ve spent close to a year thinking about the things I will carry on The Camino.

Among the items in my backpack as I prepare to walk across Spain, a few have become my favorites—some are essential, others sentimental, and a couple of them frivolous.

Among the essential are the guidebooks.

The Camino experts will gasp in horror when they learn that I intend to carry TWO guidebooks. (God forbid the unnecessary weight!) John Brierley’s The Pilgrim’s Guide to the Camino de Santiago is the classic choice among English speakers. Indeed, he provides a wealth of detailed information as well as spiritual guidance for readers to reflect upon. His book is, indeed, a wonderful resource.

Nevertheless, I also love Anna Dintaman and David Landis’s Hiking the Camino de Santiago. With the authors being from the United States, their guide is organized in a way that makes it more accessible to me.

Still, I had a difficult time choosing between these guides, so I’m taking both.

And then there’s the lovely notebook that my wife Erinn gave me a couple of years ago. How can a writer even dream of traveling without one?

One of the high school students who went with us on the pilgrimage last April gave me his bandana—which had become famous within our group—and a photograph of the pilgrims so that I can take them along once again on this journey.

Rummaging through my things, I found a few lapel pins of the Panamanian flag. They begged me to take them on the Camino and give them away as a souvenirs of my adoptive country to any person who somehow makes my journey lighter during challenging times.

And then there’s Camila, the Rubber Chicken. She has been a part of our family for thirteen years and has enjoyed countless adventures and travels. She traveled in one of the pouches of my backpack during the first pilgrimage and turned out to be quite an ice-breaker with strangers. Camila certainly deserves to go again.

But the item that has come to mean the most to me is the shell I’ll be carrying in memory of Denise Thiem. On April 5, Denise, a Chinese-American from Arizona, disappeared near the city of Astorga while on the pilgrimage. As it was in my case, the film The Way inspired her to make the journey.

Tragically, her body was found last Saturday and the person responsible for her death has confessed and is now awaiting trial. 

The Camino has a large, online English-speaking community. The Pilgrim House in Santiago de Campostela has announced that it plans to build a memorial in Denise’s honor. They have asked pilgrims to carry an extra shell—the symbol of the pilgrimage—to help Denise complete her journey.

This has become the most precious object I’ll be carrying.

When the Camino Calls

One does not choose to walk the Camino de Santiago in Spain; the Camino chooses the pilgrim.

Most who have walked the path over the last twelve centuries firmly believe this. When the pilgrimage comes to its end, they’re convinced that choice had been merely an illusion.

My wife and I are U.S. born educators who have lived in Panama for the last thirteen years. Last April, we took a group ten international high school students on a 115 kilometer pilgrimage (70 miles), starting in the town of Sarria. We walked along gorgeous paths through the winding hills of Galicia for six days, all the way to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. This is where the faithful believe that the remains of Saint James the Apostle are buried.

Transcendent is the only word that I can use to describe our pilgrimage. Walking the Camino brought out the better angels in every single one of us.  Of the countless trips my wife and I have taken with students, the long hike to Santiago de Compostela was, by far, the most inspiring.

When we reached our final destination, my wife and I were firm believers that in spite of our recruitment efforts, the students had really responded to the Camino’s call. 

And then the Camino called me again, saying that I now had to walk 800 kilometers—roughly 500 miles—starting at Saint Jean Pied de Port, on the French side of the Pyrenees, and trek all the way across northern Spain to Santiago de Compostela.

This time, however, the Camino said that I had to walk alone.

And my wife, Erinn, understood this—perfectly.

Although Camino experts advise new pilgrims to go with an open mind regarding expectations, there are many things I hope to gain during this second pilgrimage.

I’m aware that the journey will take a physical toll, bringing discomfort and pain to the body. Yet I also know that the experience will feed my soul, and that it will fuel my writer’s creativity as I ponder my next novel, which involves the Camino de Santiago.

I also know that the long walk will give me time to reflect upon what has happened in my life thus far; and I hope that my journey to pay homage to Saint James will help me reconcile with the mistakes I’ve made, help me absorb the losses I’ve suffered, and teach me to be grateful for the many blessings I’ve received.

And, in something that’s of great importance to me, I intend to gain greater insight into the Spanish side of my Latino culture.

Latino Rebels has agreed to share my postings with their readers. I am most grateful for this kindness.

Throughout the seven weeks that I’ve allotted myself to complete the pilgrimage, I will be reporting as often as possible on my experiences—the places, people, and stories I encounter along The Way.

The pilgrimage starts on Friday, September 18, in Saint Jean Pied de Port, France.

I hope you will grace my journey with your presence as a reader.