Have you had the experience of learning a new word that you never came across before, and then in the next few days you see or hear that word several times? I have, and in regards to the Camino I am now having that sort of experience regularly with images connected to the Camino. Obviously, the images have always been present around me, but I never recognized them for what they were before journeying on the Camino.
I experienced this sensation powerfully earlier this month when I rushed to see an exhibit at Houston’s Museum of Fine Arts before the exhibit closed on January 3rd. The exhibit opened in March, but I was traveling that month, then I came down with COVID-19, then I spent two months recuperating, and then I obeyed lockdown rules and stayed at home. When the museum announced that it was opening to limited attendance and with full safety precautions, I thought about registering for a timed ticket but put it off. So, in December I realized the exhibit was about to close and scrambled to get one of those limited timed tickets.
Thank goodness I went to see “Treasures of the Hispanic Society Museum & Library” before it closed. When I entered the exhibit, the first thing I saw was a giant photograph of Santiago Cathedral. In this pandemic year, when my planned return trip to the Camino had to be scrapped, what a delight it was to come upon this opening scene welcoming all visitors to sample the treasures of Spain. The museum’s label for the photo credited the cathedral to Bernard the Elder, a Spaniard active in the 11th century, and gave the dates for the building of the cathedral as 1075-1211.
Next, I came upon a lovely statue of St. Martin of Tours. While on the Camino, I had read that St. Martin was one of the favorite saints of the French medieval pilgrims who were streaming along the Camino Francés. Churches bearing his name as well as statues of him can be found all along the Camino.
Glass “Pilgrim Flask” with enamel and gilt
Walking along the Camino, I carried a gourd attached to my backpack, and I noted the gourds in the many, many statues and paintings of St. James and of pilgrims that one sees along the Way. What I never saw in Spain, but was delighted to see in the exhibit, was an exquisite 18th century “pilgrim flask.” I doubt this delicate glass and enamel flask was ever carried on a pilgrimage, but it does remind us that many pilgrims came from wealthy families. Whether rich and poor, all traveled along the Camino to Santiago, each according to his or her station.
Of course, I had expected to see masterpieces by Velázquez, El Greco, Goya, and other world-renowned artists. I had not expected, however, to see a fabulous relief by an unknown Mexican artist. It seems it is not only we who travel to Spain to visit St. James, but also St. James who comes to visit us in faraway lands, wearing his wide-brimmed hat. Here, St. James appears as Santiago Matamoros (Moor-Killer). as he does in Santiago Cathedral. It was interesting to learn in the book accompanying the exhibit that St. James was also depicted as Santiago Mataindios (Indian-Killer) elsewhere in Mexican art.
As I wrote in my book Savoring the Camino de Santiago, after finishing the Camino I journeyed on to Madrid and Toledo to visit the Prado and other museums. While not specifically related to the Camino, I was thrilled to see as part of the Hispanic Society’s exhibit Goya’s magnificent portrait of the Duchess of Alba as well as two portraits by Velázquez.
This exhibit has been on a worldwide tour. It started in Madrid at the Prado in 2017, moved on to Mexico City in 2018, stayed in Albuquerque, New Mexico, for four months from 2018-2019, and then journeyed to Cincinnati before opening here in Houston in March 2020. It is a pity that its time in Houston has corresponded with the pandemic, for that surely has suppressed the number of Texans who have had the opportunity to see this magnificent exhibit.
For me, having the exhibit in Houston was fortuitous—the next-best-thing to being able to return to Spain and the Camino in 2020. Now, if ever I return to New York City, I will know that the Hispanic Society of America is a destination not to be missed for those who love Spain.
On Wednesday, November 4th, 2020, I was the featured speaker for a “Meet the Author” event organized by Rice University’s Friends of Fondren Library group. This event had originally been scheduled for last April, but had to be cancelled due to COVID-19. I was thrilled when the Friends group suggested rescheduling the talk in November as a Zoom meeting. I decided not to make the talk solely about my book, since attendees might not know anything about the Camino. I structured the talk into three parts: the Camino and its history, my 2016 Camino pilgrimage, and my book about that pilgrimage. I had about 130 slides to show the audience, with the slides supporting all three sections of the talk. I didn’t know what to expect, and feared a tiny turnout. Instead, more than 200 folks signed up for the event, and 150 actually tuned in to listen. There were more questions than I could answer during the allotted time, and those questions have given me ideas about how to expand my talk even more, focusing on areas I didn’t address on Wednesday night. I’ll probably have to develop a second version of this talk, covering other aspects. The feedback has all been positive, giving me a Camino boost when so much in the world seems gloomy. Eventually I will be able to post a video of this Zoom event.
In previous posts on this blog, I published the letter I wrote last autumn to three ministries of the Government of Spain (Development; Culture and Sport; Industry, Trade and Tourism) concerning the Camino de Santiago. Over the next few months following my letter, I received three replies from Spanish government officials. I also posted copies of those three letters, as well as a translation of each of them.
To recap, the first letter, from Ricardo Mar Rupérez, an advisor to the Minister of Development, simply acknowledged receipt of my letter and let me know that he was passing it to an official in another office within the ministry.
The second letter, from Amparo Hernamperez Martin, also with the Ministry of Development, answered a question I had posed in my letter: which ministry was the responsible entity for the Camino de Santiago? Ms. Hernamperez Martin let me know that a coordinating committee called the Consejo Jacobeo (Jacobean Council)—composed of representatives of several ministries plus provincial representatives and chaired by the Minister of Culture—was the entity I was seeking. The purpose of the Consejo was “to facilitate communication” about the Camino among all of the federal and provincial governmental bodies represented on the Jacobean Council.
The third letter came directly from the Jacobean Council and was penned by Adriana Moscoso del Prado Hernández, who is the Secretary for the Council’s Plenary and also the Director General for Cultural Industries and Cooperation. In that letter, Ms. Moscoso del Prado Hernández explained the Jacobean Council more fully and added the information that the Council can also request the participation of civil entities, such as religious, cultural, and academic leaders. She also cited two websites with information about the Camino.
While all three letters were cordial, none of them answered my series of questions except in regard to the question of which entity is in charge of the Camino. That answer did let me know to which entity I should have addressed my letter, the Consejo Jacobeo, but it did not really answer the question of which entity is responsible for the various issues I had raised. While designating a coordinating council is a great idea, who ultimately is responsible? The Consejo coordinates, but which governmental body, for example, is responsible for the signage along the Camino? Who approves the design of the signs? Who decides where to place those signs? Who decides if additional signs are needed, and where? Who goes out and plants those signs in the designated spots?
In response to the first two letters I received from Spanish officials, I recently sent individual replies thanking the senders for their letters and enclosing a copy of my book, Savoring the Camino de Santiago. In response to the third letter, in addition to thanking the sender and enclosing a book, I asked for a further response to four of the questions from my first letter.
Today, I received word that my book has been awarded a silver metal in the category of Travel Essays by the judges for the eLit contest, a prestigious annual competition for books published in a digital format. How happy this makes me!
The award is given for the overall excellence of an eBook–its writing, layout, design, illustrations, cover, topic, relevance, etc.
I have to admit that this spring has not been the best time for me. First, I was very ill for six weeks. Also, my spring marketing plan for the book was shot to kingdom come due to the coronavirus situation. Scheduled speaking dates were cancelled, and any ideas about scheduling in the future are tentative at best. So I was feeling pretty down a week or so ago. In fact, I had one of those “should I give this all up because it doesn’t seem like it’s working” conversations with my co-editor at Bayou City Press.
There is a saying among Camino enthusiasts: “The Camino provides.” I have to say, the Camino has come through for me today! I couldn’t be more thrilled.
And I couldn’t be more grateful to all the folks who contributed to my book: my co-editor, my traveling partner, my cover designer, my illustrator, all my friends who encouraged me to write the book, all my writing group colleagues who had to listen to early chapter drafts. With their help, I wrote and published my book about my Camino journey.
I think I have a bottle of Cava in my fridge, and I think it is going to be popped open tonight! Buen Camino to all my readers!
In previous weeks, I posted an overview of the 2020 Gathering, and then highlights from the Gathering. I’d like to add a few more highlights.
One of the funniest moments, for me, was when the principal coordinator of the Gathering, Sara Gradwohl, and her partner-in-crime, Carmen Marriott, donned a unique sort of homage to the Camino. At once hilarious and a bit surprising, they were the only others at the Gathering besides myself that I remember donning a “costume” of any sort. Their get-ups brought to my mind the classic number in the musical “South Pacific,” when coconuts are used to cover the relevant parts. Maybe one year the organizers of the Gathering could think about holding a costume contest and see what our inventive group can come up with?
I am also still in mini-shock about having been caught in a snow storm. I included a photo of the dock at the Zephyr Point Conference Center in an earlier post, taken on the first day, when the sky was clear and one could see across the lake to the mountains on the other side. The only touch of snow at that time was on those mountain peaks. Then the snow started. Here is what that same dock and view looked like on Sunday. The mountains across the lake are completely invisible.
Everyone who reads my blog and/or book knows that I love history. The talks at the Gathering that included Camino history were the most fascinating for me. One talk included a number of slides showing posters used to promote past Holy Years. Here is a photo of one of the slides.
I can’t wait to see what the image for Holy Year 2021 will be!
Our meals during the Gathering were prepared by the Zephyr Point Conference Center staff. Meals were abundant with a lot of choices. There was always a salad bar option. On our first day there, the staff made a special effort and prepared these special Camino cakes, with the St. James cross on the top. What a treat!
Before the Gathering started, many of the organizers went to great lengths to prepare for it, bringing trunks-full of snacks and other items. One decorative point in our meeting room was the sign below. Sitting in the room each day looking at it, I would wonder, which of these routes should I attempt next? It served as a good reminder that our journey along the Camino is not finished yet!
I mentioned in my last post that the two concerts by Australian singer Dan Mullins were a highlight for everyone. Coming from Texas, I particularly enjoyed hearing Dan’s version of the Willy Nelson classic “You Were Always on My Mind.” Although my own singing is so bad that my toddler son used to beg me not to sing along to “The Wheels Go Round and Round,” I couldn’t help myself from joining in with Dan. You’ll faintly hear my frog-like voice at certain points of the video. Sorry, Dan!
I also previously mentioned that when Dan launched into “Kumbaya,” everyone stood up and joined in. I was equally enchanted with his song “Somewhere Along the Way.”
Let me end this post with something I brought home with me that I will treasure. In participating in the Silent Auction, I managed to win a fantastic photo of the nave of the church at Roncesvalles. As those who have read my book know, Roncesvalles was one of my favorite places along the Camino–so I am particularly pleased to be the proud owner of this photo. I am going to hang in my Bayou City Press office, near the cockle shell I carried along with me on the Camino, and beside my many books on the Camino and Spain. My photo of the photo doesn’t do justice to the original, but it will give you a sense of the beauty of the original.
I hope these three posts on the 2020 Gathering have been entertaining for those who attended the Gathering, and informative for those who couldn’t make it. Buen Camino to all during this period of the Coronavirus Plague!
In my last post, I wrote about the challenges facing the organizers of the 2020 Camino Gathering—coronavirus multiplied by a snow storm. Those two factors made for a very different Gathering from previous years, a fact that the president of the board of American Pilgrims on the Camino, David Donselar, remarked on, as did others who had previously attended Gatherings.
Despite the challenges faced by the organizers, and the difficult decisions that each of us had to make–such as about whether to go at all given the pandemic underway or about how long to stay given the snow storm—I found the Gathering very worthwhile. Now, some seven weeks after the close of the Gathering and having passed through a very bad six weeks of being ill, I am still glad I attended.
The beautiful schedule arranged by the organizers had numerous, sometimes overlapping events beginning Thursday, March 12, at 3:30 pm and lasting until noon on Sunday, March 15. Unfortunately, a lot of the announced schedule had to be scrapped.
Group Photo: It seems a bit funny to say that having a group photo taken was a highlight—but it was. The number of attendees at the Gathering was at its maximum for the photo, and the jokes and comradeship while we organized ourselves for the photo made me feel the Camino spirit.
Zephyr Point: The weather was at its best on Thursday and Friday morning, and views of Lake Tahoe were spectacular. The location itself became a character in our Gathering drama.
Putting Faces to Names: It was great to be introduced to the board of American Pilgrims and to begin to match their faces with their names. The board members would be an important resource throughout the following days. They all clearly put their hearts and souls into making the Gathering a success, despite the challenges. All hail the organizers!
Friday and Saturday Highlights
By Thursday evening, it became clear that the weather was not going to cooperate, so Sara Gradwohl (the Gathering Chair), Dave Donselar, and other organizers tore up the published schedule for the following days. Their announced goal was to cram as much as possible of the more popular talks and activities into Friday. Friday was accordingly jam-packed with great activities, and many attendees indeed departed at some point during the day or after the evening’s activities.
I can’t really remember what activities happened on which days, since sessions were being cut and added and there was no printed schedule, but here is my personal list of favorites
George Greenia: Spoke once each day, and both of his talks were great. His first talk, on silence and sound along the Camino, was wonderful. His second presentation focused more on history, and I loved that one, too.
Yosmar Martinez on Camino Food : My mouth was watering at each photo.
Barbara Zang and Linnea Hendrickson on the Via Francigena: It was great to learn about a different Camino route, and to hear about its history.
Lynn Talbot on the Camino during the Franco Dictatorship: I love history, and I found this to be a fascinating look into religion in Spain and the Camino as a political tool.
Father Steve Rindahl on Warriors on the Way: I was so glad to learn about this fascinating organization, which uses travel on the Camino as a way to treat post-tramatic stress disorder of veterans.
Raffle and Silent Auction: What fun this was! I didn’t do too well in the raffle, but thanks to the Silent Auction I managed to obtain a beautiful photograph of the nave of the Collegiate Church of Santa María in Roncevalles, which I cherish.
Dan Mullins, the Singing Pilgrim: Dan performed both Friday and Saturday nights, and truly both performances were outstanding. His theme song, “Somewhere along the Way” was fabulous. When he actually started singing “Kumbaya” on Saturday night, everyone still in attendance got up to sing and sway. Dan had walked the Camino with his guitar on his back, which is exactly what my son did—so I felt an instant connection with this marvelous Australian who came to share our Gathering.
I know I am forgetting a lot, so I will probably post again about the Gathering next week.
I will be posting a few entries about my experience at the 2020 Gathering of American Pilgrims on the Camino, the annual meeting in the United States of Camino enthusiasts. It was my first time to attend the Gathering, and I was very excited about going, fired up about seeing Lake Tahoe for the first time, and eager to present my new book, Savoring the Camino de Santiago, to a Camino audience.
In the days immediately following my trip to the Gathering, I wrote a column for my website (“March Madness” at www.BayouCityPress.com) reporting on three trips I had taken in March, the last of them to the Gathering, held March 12-15, 2020, at Zephyr Point on Lake Tahoe. Much of the following text about the Gathering comes from that column.
Sometimes I have an overactive imagination. In the weeks leading up to the Gathering, and somewhat inspired by all the wacky costumes I had seen at Mardi Gras, I decided to put together a Camino costume, one with elements of what a medieval pilgrim might have worn. I trolled my closet and found a tabard I already had, one decorated with the Jerusalem cross. I ordered a felt hat and attached a Camino shell to it. I had a black cloak I could use. It wasn’t brown and didn’t reach to the floor, but it was a good approximation of the cloak Medieval pilgrims wore. I tried to order a six-foot staff (how am I going to get that on the plane, I wondered), but was unsuccessful in finding one I could buy in time for the Gathering. So, I had my costume: tabard, hat, cloak. I thought of the outfit as a marketing tool, a way to call attention to myself and hence to my book, which covers quite a bit of Camino history.
Before my trip, I worried much more about putting together my Camino costume than I did about navigating snow, even though “snow flurries” were predicted for the Lake Tahoe area. I briefly rooted around in my closet trying to find a pair of snow boots that I could still wear, and considered taking along a heavy winter coat. “Nah,” I thought. “Too heavy, too bulky, too difficult to take with me. How much snow could there be when it is 80 degrees in Houston?”
Because of the dismal turn out at the writers’ conference that I had attended the week prior to the Gathering, I emailed the coordinator of the Gathering to make sure the Gathering was still going forward. “Yes,” Sara responded immediately, “we’re on. We’ve only had three cancellations so far.” So, I packed my bags, including a large number of copies of my book, hopeful that I would be able to sell them at the Gathering.
Flights to Sacramento from Houston were much more numerous and with better schedules than flights into Reno, so I had opted to fly into Sacramento and rent a car to drive to Zephyr Point, rather than to fly into the much closer Reno airport. Zephyr Point lies right on Lake Tahoe, across the state line from California in Nevada. Even with the longer drive from Sacramento to Zephyr Point, my travel times in going through Sacramento had me departing Houston and arriving at the conference at more appropriate times than would have the few flights into Reno. Choosing Sacramento over Reno proved to be a fateful decision.
The Houston airport was bustling. My flight to Sacramento was almost full. If people were worried about the coronavirus, you couldn’t prove it by what I saw. Travel seemed to be proceeding as usual.
The journey from the Sacramento airport to the conference site only took me about two and a half hours, even though it was up a twisty mountain road. Some snow, but not much, still blanketed the shady sides of the road as I progressed up the mountain. I got to the meeting site in good time, still in the daylight, but the covered parking spots were already all taken. I had to park my rental SUV in an uncovered spot.
I parked and left my suitcase in the SUV until I could figure out the best unloading site. I didn’t want to heft my suitcase any more times than I absolutely had to. I searched around and found the building with the reception desk for the Gathering. I quickly found out that the Zephyr Point Conference Center was not laid out in a logical manner, with relevant buildings spread out all over a generous campus. By the time I checked in, a welcome reception had already started, to be followed by the 2020 Gathering group photo. I got instructions to my assigned room, which seemed to include a large number of unavoidable steps, and so decided to wait until after the evening’s activities before hauling my belongings to my room.
The events that Thursday evening were great, but I was distracted by not knowing when or how I was going to find my room and drag my heavy suitcase there.
Conference attendance was down. The “only three cancellations” had morphed into many, many more. Conference organizers said there were 150 people present on Thursday night, but I think 120 attendees was closer to the mark. From the first, the conference organizers seemed spooked. Interestingly, the concerns expressed by the organizers had nothing to do with the coronavirus, but rather everything to do with the weather. Giving a nod to the coronavirus, we were urged to “elbow bump” rather than shake hands or hug, and we were asked to help out the kitchen staff by pitching in and sanitizing tables after meals. Otherwise, we just acted as if everything were normal. We sat close together in sessions and at meals, we shared rooms with strangers, we touched and passed around silent auction, raffle, and sale items. No one wore a mask.
On Friday morning, I awoke eager for the first session to start. The weather was unexpectedly nice, with beautiful views of the lake and encircling mountains through the conference room windows. The beauty of Lake Tahoe was apparent; the location, with mountains ringing the lake, reminded me of Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, where surrounding volcanoes are reflected in the water.
Vendors like me, most of us selling books or essential oils or other natural products, were placed outside on the balcony, from where we could enjoy the lovely weather and view but step into the meeting room when sessions began. I wore my full pilgrim regalia. Other conference attendees probably thought I was nuts, but what the heck? Weren’t we all a bit nuts to choose to walk the Camino? I received comments like “Cool hat” and “Nice outfit.” Camino folks are uncommonly kind. The comment I most often got was, “Did you make your outfit?” I guess Camino folks are also determinedly do-it-yourselfers. “No,” I had to reply, “the only thing I did was sew the cockleshell onto my hat.”
Sometime during that Friday, the president of the board of American Pilgrims on the Camino announced that weather conditions were worsening. The forecast for the rest of the weekend, and on into the next week, were poor. There was a window of opportunity to leave that night, so those who could do so might want to leave after the Friday evening events, to get down from the mountain while the roads were still open. Over the course of the day, the whole schedule for Friday and Saturday was reconfigured to try to cram in as much as possible on Friday. Beloved parts of the schedule, such as a silent auction and raffle, were moved up to that evening.
I thought hard about leaving Friday evening. I had just gotten there, my first Gathering, and to leave after only one day would be a big sacrifice. I called United Airlines to see if I could move up my flight, and was told that the wait time to speak to someone was two hours. I didn’t want to wait on hold for two hours and miss the Gathering. If I left, it would be a departure at 9 PM or later. It also meant I would have to drive on a dark, winding, mountainous, snowy road with which I was not unfamiliar. I elected to stay until Saturday, to see how things developed.
The printed schedule for the Gathering had been out the window starting on Friday morning. News reports about the weather—not coronavirus—were eagerly sought by Gathering attendees. Were the roads down the mountain open? Were planes flying? With no television in the guest rooms, we had to go to the internet to seek weather updates. The Zephyr Point representative who attended meals was eagerly sought out for his knowledge of area roads.
I wondered about how many of us would depart after activities on Friday night. On Saturday morning we got a look at who remained. About 50 of us were still in attendance. Conference organizers said we should give ourselves a pat on the back for being the ones who didn’t give up, who kept going when the going got rough, but perhaps we should more accurately have been called the foolhardy.
Some panelists who had not departed on Friday night were asked to make second presentations, to cover for the panelists who had not come at all or who had left early. As for the sessions, I particularly liked the ones focusing on history. The chair of American Pilgrims again suggested we might want to take advantage of a window of opportunity and go home on Saturday afternoon. I thought about it, and I again elected to stay another day.
By Sunday morning the snow had set in for real. It was, indeed, a blizzard, a blizzard for which I was not prepared. I had not packed boots or a heavy coat, but I did have layers I could don. My pilgrim hat, complete with a cockleshell, symbol of the Camino de Santiago, kept the snow off my head. The conference organizers, having maintained all along that the conference would continue through until its scheduled conclusion on Sunday afternoon, with the Board members of the organization staying until Monday or later, now said that the conference was cancelled. They were leaving, and we should, too, though we could stay overnight Sunday if we preferred to wait another day (or more) to see if the weather cleared.
That settled it for me. With no conference underway, and the conference organizers leaving, it was time to get out of Dodge. I went out to the car park and looked at my rental SUV, which was buried in about three feet of snow. Of course there was no ice scraper or snow removal tool in the vehicle. One of the things I had promised myself after my last winter in Washington, DC, was never to shovel a car out of the snow again. But here I was, having to do just that, and without the proper tools. As is said, Woman proposes but God disposes.
Julio, a conference participant with whom I had talked quite a lot, was in even worse shape. His sedan had neither 4-wheel drive nor snow chains, a requirement for driving on mountainous roads once snow started. He borrowed a shovel from the conference center and disinterred his car, then gave me the shovel to use on my SUV. He started off, but was back quickly—his car couldn’t manage the snowy mountain roads. Julio asked me to drive him down to the local Safeway so that he could buy chains, which I did after finishing digging my car out.
That short drive down to the Safeway gave me confidence that my rented SUV could handle the snow. Back at the Zephyr Point Conference Center, I loaded my still-heavy bags into the car-I didn’t sell as many books as I had hoped to the reduced number of attendees–and took off for Sacramento.
I say “took off,” but I should say “crawled.” The first 12 miles were slow, but the traffic was moving. And then, for no discernible reason, the traffic came to a dead halt. I sat, and sat, and sat in my vehicle, turning the engine on and off to defrost the windshield as I searched for news on the radio. Cars in front and behind me also sat there waiting. Occasionally a vehicle would pull out of line and turn around, heading where? Eventually I got out of my SUV and talked to the couple in the car behind me, who had had an opportunity to talk with a passing policeman. The policeman said the road was closed and the wait for it to open might be as long as 10 hours or even longer.
My flight to Houston was on Monday afternoon, so I decided that waiting was just the best thing to do. In the end, a drive that had taken a little over two hours going up the mountain took more than 14 hours to get down. And the irony of course was that I had not departed on Friday evening in large part because I did not want to drive down a treacherous road at night, but in the end that is just what I had to do. Between the long, long wait while the road was closed, and the subsequent creeping down the mountain road at five or 10 mph, I didn’t check into my motel until 12:30 AM on Monday morning.
The Sacramento Airport on Monday afternoon was a changed place. While I had been isolated in the mountains for three days, attitudes about coronavirus had clearly changed. The airport was almost deserted. No one was in the security line. It was so pleasurable to whiz my way through the checkpoints and onto the plane. “This,” I thought, “is what travel must have felt like in the past. Just a select few flying.”
At the time I wrote the “March Madness” column for my website, I was feeling ill, but I had no idea how sick I actually was. I first felt ill on March 17th, my first day back home after the Gathering. I thought I had a head cold, but it turned out to be much, much worse. It is only this past week, a month after falling ill, that I have felt well enough to return to my computer and work.
In this posting, I have recounted the ambience of the Gathering—the situation with coronavirus hovering and snow falling. In my next post, I plan to give readers more about the substance of the Gathering.
The third letter I received from the government of Spain arrived in early January. As before, my informal translation is below, followed by the letter itself. I offer some observations after that.
[Address] Jacobean Council
Ms. Julie Gianelloni Connor
Madrid, January 7, 2019 [sic]
Dear Ms. Connor:
In relation to your letter of the 23 of October of last year, in the first place, please permit me to thank you for the interest that you have shown for the Camino de Santiago and for your comments related to it. As for the Spanish government, we are aware of the importance of an asset of such interest as is the Camino de Santiago and for that reason we invest great effort and resources in improving it.
The Camino de Santiago, already in 1962 designated by the State both as historic-artistic, is an asset of undoubted value, as much from a cultural and social as from an economic perspective, about which we are proud and for which we labor in a responsible and committed manner.
In that respect–paying attention to the multidisciplinary character of the Camino de Santiago and the division of responsibilities in regards to tourism and culture among the distinct public administrative organizations involved, the State, and the Autonomous Communities [of Spain]–the Jacobean Council was created in 1991 to facilitate communication among all these institutions, coordinate programming, and [promote] cooperation in activities. The Council consists of representatives of the departments of the General Administration of Spain with responsibility for culture, education, international cooperation, tourism, territorial cooperation, the economy and treasury, development and the environment, as well as similar representatives from the Autonomous Communities along the Camino de Santiago: Basque Country, Catalonia, Galicia, Asturias, Cantabria, La Rioja, Aragon, Navarre, and Castile and Leon.
Moreover, this Council, with its inter-territorial character, regulated currently by Royal Decree 1431/2009 of September 11, can convoke meetings with religious, cultural, academic, and other institutions related to the functioning of the Jacobean Council. In that way, we can coordinate with civil society representatives also.
Each political institution, in accord with its responsibilities, maintains an up-to-date webpage with information about the Camino de Santiago. Specifically, the Minister of Cultural and Sports, as president of the Jacobean Council, gathers at the website below this information as well as links to the rest of the webpages of public institutions:
On that webpage, one can also find, in diverse languages, information of interest for those persons who wish to travel the Camino de Santiago, from the signage [for pilgrims] to follow, to a guide to emergencies with information about the physical conditioning required to enjoy this authentic experience, including information about care for feet as in the case you presented in your letter.
All of that information is in addition to the information about the Camino available on the web at https://www.spain.info, on which one can also find greater details about the ample touristic offerings of our country, including references to our gastronomic and cultural patrimony.
I hope that this information will be of interest to you and will contribute to the improvement of your research for your future book.
With a cordial salute,
Adriana Moscoso de Prado Hernández
Secretary of the Plenary of the Jacobean Council and
Director General of Cultural and Cooperative Industries
In this letter, Sra. Moscoso del Prado Hernández expands upon the previous letter, giving more details about the composition of the Jacobean Council. She also asserts that the Government of Spain and the various provinces invest “great efforts and resources in improving” the Camino. She gives, however, no specific details of those efforts or resources, nor does she specifically respond to any of my suggestions or comments, other than explaining about the Jacobean Council.
This third letter is the last one I have received, and, frankly, it does not satisfy me. So, my next step will be to draft a new series of letters, thanking those who wrote me but asking for specific responses to my various questions.
As I previously reported, after returning from my journey on the Camino I sent a letter to three ministries in the Government of Spain raising issues that I had noted as I walked the French route of the Camino. My letter let the ministers know that I planned to publish my letter, and any response I received to that letter, on this blog.
My last post carried the first response I received. As I wrote in my comments about the letter, it was a cordial interim response that did not address any of the issues I raised but rather just informed me that my letter was being forwarded to another office.
Sometime later, I received a second (undated) letter, this time from Amparo Hernamperez Martin, also in the Ministry of Development. Below is my informal translation of that letter, followed by a copy of the actual letter. Please take a look and see what you think. Are any of the issues I raised in Chapter 25 of my book addressed?
Here is my thinking about this second response. In my letter to the three ministries, I informed them that I had asked the Spanish Consulate in Houston which Spanish government office was responsible for the Camino. The Consulate was unable to direct me to a specific office, saying that the responsibility for the Camino rests with the various Spanish provinces through which the Camino passes. Since the Consulate could not identify the specific ministry to which to direct my letter, I sent it to the three most likely responsible ministries.
In this response, Ms. Hernamperez Martin identifies the organism that coordinates actions on the Camino, the Jacobean Council. According to Ms. Hernamperez Martin, the Council includes representatives of nine Spanish provinces and eight federal ministries. Every meeting must be quite a gathering, with 17 principals and, no doubt, their deputies sitting in second chair! The size and composition of the Council reminds me of some coordinating meetings I used to attend in Washington–good for sharing information so that everyone keeps informed, but not so good for taking needed action. Ms. Hernamperez Martin also clarifies that the Minister of Culture chairs the Council.
As to the issues I raised in my letter, none are addressed. After receiving this letter, I was left with a number of questions. If the Minister of Culture chairs the Jacobean Council, why is neither the Cultural Ministry nor a representative of the Council answering my letter, but rather officials in the Ministry of Development? Will there be a further response, specifically reacting to my observations, suggestions, and comments? What sorts of actions is the Jacobean Council undertaking to improve the Camino the pilgrim experience?
What are your thoughts about the responses of the Spanish government so far?
In Chapter 25 of my book, Savoring the Camino de Santiago, I included an open letter which I had directed to three Spanish ministries about issues related to the Camino that I thought about as I walked the Camino. As I explained in my book, I drafted the letter, put it aside, thought about it more, showed it to my writing critique group, thought about it some more, put it aside again, and finally decided to mail it in October 2019. In my letter, I informed the recipients that I would post any reply on this blog.
The first difficulty I had in mailing the letter was determining the best government office to which to send the letter. The Spanish Consulate here in Houston was unable to direct me to the Spanish federal office responsible for the Camino, so in the end I addressed the letter to the three ministries that seemed most relevant to Camino-related issues: the Ministry of Culture and Sport; the Ministry of Industry, Trade and Tourism; and the Ministry of Development.
My letter was sent on October 23, 2019. Amazingly–at least to my way of thinking, given the time it takes for international letters to transit, not to mention the time necessary to clear any response up the ranks of a bureaucracy–I had a reply within a month. Very responsive, indeed, I thought, as I opened the letter.
Here is my informal translation, with the original below. I’ll add some commentary at the end.
A very nice letter, right? The words are all kind, and the text shows that my letter is being taken seriously and handled expeditiously. But what does the letter really say, in response to my suggestions? Basically, nothing. The letter is what, in my government days, we would call “an interim reply.” It’s a reply just to let the recipient know that the in-coming letter has been received and transferred to the appropriate office for action. Still, given my worries that my letter to the three ministries would hit the trashcan as soon as it was opened, I am relieved.
Bottom line: one interim letter from one of three ministries to which the original letter was directed. Will there be another letter? I’d have to wait and see. Please, as they used to say, stay tuned.