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900 Suburi and the Pilgrim's Tale
Jul. 6th, 2003 06:26 pmYes, I did survive it, and surprisingly it was not as hard as it was two weeks ago even though we did only 700 suburi then, or the 800 of last week. I also seem to get the technic right, or righter, anyway - my left arm is sore rather than my right one and I developped a blister in my left palm, which are good signs, on the technical side anyway (they're not, though, on the physical, because there's no one to massage me. Blah!). 1000 suburi next week, afterwards we'll move on to new techniques.
After practice, there were surprisingly many people in the pub. Frank gave a round because he had just returned from his pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. I was genuinely surprised - I mean, I know there are some people who still do pilgrimages, but somehow I never thought of it in context with Europe and christianity and ordinary people unless I thought of the Middle Ages. Naive?
Frank, however, is quite a normal guy - a medical doctor, once divorced, biker and kendoka; he also says he doesn't like church although he does consider himself religious. He also said he didn't do the pilgrimage for religious reasons, but for personal reasons.
It was really fascinating, though. It took him a bit over a month. He biked down there (there are three possiblities, it seems, to do it - on foot, by bike or by horse) and told us of the different landscapes and regions he crossed, of dirty French hotels and of nights spent in monasteries, of Spanish hairdressers who only know "very short" and "shaved" for hairstyles, of mountains and endless wheatfields, of small villages, of the temperament of the people of the countries he went through, of the other pilgrims of whom some were similar to him and others were - what he called "esoterical", of the atmosphere in Santiago. Since Roland-sensei did the same pilgrimage (though on another route) years ago, they were sharing memories and experiences like war veterans (and a bunch of historical stuff, too. Quote of the evening: Frank: "and Roland - not our Roland - a paladin of Charlemagne..." - Georg: "Paladin? Wasn't that a stone?" - Roland: "THAT was a palantír...")
They both agreed they wanted to do it again, and on foot, this time.
Although he also told us a somewhat shocking tale about a group of pilgrims who went on foot: When he was having supper in a hostel in France, this group came in, coughing, with teary, swollen eyes. It turned out that while they had been wandering through vineyards, the viticôle had been spraying pesticides. By plane. So they were (though certainly not on purpose) showered with stuff that's supposed to kill insect and not too healthy for humans.
They felt better after taking a shower, obviously, but still... uargh.
When I thought of pilgrims (if I thought of pilgrims), I thought about Mecca, or monks, or the Middle Ages. Lennep, my home town, lies on the pilgrims' route (Not, obviously, when you start in Cologne, but when you're still going there). We still have a Pilgrim Street downtown, and a few years ago they put marker stones there with the St Jacob's Shell on it. But still. It shouldn't surprise me so much that it is popular here, now, to ordinary people, but somehow it does. It also fascinates me more than I like to admit.
Because, when I think of pilgrims now, I think of Frank, his hair slowly outgrowing his
"very short" haircut, having lost four kilos, paying everyone's Kölsch between candles and shinais, talking about the wonderful landscapes of the Pyrenees with shining eyes.
- - -
( 900 Suburi und die Geschichte eines Pilgers )
- - -
After practice, there were surprisingly many people in the pub. Frank gave a round because he had just returned from his pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. I was genuinely surprised - I mean, I know there are some people who still do pilgrimages, but somehow I never thought of it in context with Europe and christianity and ordinary people unless I thought of the Middle Ages. Naive?
Frank, however, is quite a normal guy - a medical doctor, once divorced, biker and kendoka; he also says he doesn't like church although he does consider himself religious. He also said he didn't do the pilgrimage for religious reasons, but for personal reasons.
It was really fascinating, though. It took him a bit over a month. He biked down there (there are three possiblities, it seems, to do it - on foot, by bike or by horse) and told us of the different landscapes and regions he crossed, of dirty French hotels and of nights spent in monasteries, of Spanish hairdressers who only know "very short" and "shaved" for hairstyles, of mountains and endless wheatfields, of small villages, of the temperament of the people of the countries he went through, of the other pilgrims of whom some were similar to him and others were - what he called "esoterical", of the atmosphere in Santiago. Since Roland-sensei did the same pilgrimage (though on another route) years ago, they were sharing memories and experiences like war veterans (and a bunch of historical stuff, too. Quote of the evening: Frank: "and Roland - not our Roland - a paladin of Charlemagne..." - Georg: "Paladin? Wasn't that a stone?" - Roland: "THAT was a palantír...")
They both agreed they wanted to do it again, and on foot, this time.
Although he also told us a somewhat shocking tale about a group of pilgrims who went on foot: When he was having supper in a hostel in France, this group came in, coughing, with teary, swollen eyes. It turned out that while they had been wandering through vineyards, the viticôle had been spraying pesticides. By plane. So they were (though certainly not on purpose) showered with stuff that's supposed to kill insect and not too healthy for humans.
They felt better after taking a shower, obviously, but still... uargh.
When I thought of pilgrims (if I thought of pilgrims), I thought about Mecca, or monks, or the Middle Ages. Lennep, my home town, lies on the pilgrims' route (Not, obviously, when you start in Cologne, but when you're still going there). We still have a Pilgrim Street downtown, and a few years ago they put marker stones there with the St Jacob's Shell on it. But still. It shouldn't surprise me so much that it is popular here, now, to ordinary people, but somehow it does. It also fascinates me more than I like to admit.
Because, when I think of pilgrims now, I think of Frank, his hair slowly outgrowing his
"very short" haircut, having lost four kilos, paying everyone's Kölsch between candles and shinais, talking about the wonderful landscapes of the Pyrenees with shining eyes.
- - -
( 900 Suburi und die Geschichte eines Pilgers )
- - -
