Let's
start with the undeniably good news that the Códice
Calixtino, which disappeared from
Santiago Cathedral last year, has been found - in a plastic bag in
the garage of a disgruntled ex-employee. Along with other precious
works, a silver plate and 1.2m euros in cash. So, the early (and
bloody obvious) conclusion that it'd had been an inside job has
proven correct. The Códice
is a 12th century work on the Camino
and is considered the first guide to it. Useful if you could
understand the Latin it's written in. And if you were allowed to read
it. In other words an Archbishop or a Cardinal. Who, ironically,
wasn't going to be making a pilgrimage which involved anything as
plebeian as walking.
Unlike
train stations, bus stations tend to be bleak places. But the one in
Ponte de Lima at which I dropped off my friend, Mike, at midday today
was more desolate than most. Six or seven offices but only one of
them manned. And an empty-place silence that would surely have been
improved by some muzak. Any
muzak.
A
last few Portugal notes:-
-
There seems to be a tendency for men in their 60s to stand around
with a jacket or cardigan draped over their shoulders.
-
There's at least a couple of gold-exchange shops in prosperous
looking Ponte de Lima.
-
If you've arrived here because you're looking for a hotel in the
town, you should know that the Imperial has closed down and
the Mercearía's entrance is 34 Rua Cardeal Saraiva, next to
the TH sign. But without a number. The street with the bull and
cardinal bronze statues in it.
-
The church clock near this hotel chimes every quarter hour and not
just on the hour and half hour. But not at night.
-
The aversion to noise is so great in Portugal that, even when the
kids shout, they don't really.
-
My TV-B-Gone
is surplus
to need in Portugal; even if there's a TV in the café or bar, they
often don't switch on the sound.
Changing
the subject and country . . . Not a lot of people know this, but in
1217 a French king actually entered London and, for a while, ruled as
the English king as well. He was ousted by an army under
William Marshal, returning to France with his queue
between his jambes.
The decisive battle was called The Battle of Lincoln Fair,
allegedly because of the heavy looting by victorious English troops.
Something which quite a few peoples around the world have since
enjoyed. These days, the experience is called Hosting
a Week-end Stag Party.
Back
in my house in Pontevedra, I chucked some stale bread onto the lawn
and waited to see which birds it would attract. I was hoping for the
two jays of last week but what I got was a huge seagull circling the
garden. Having scared this off - for how long? - I was delighted to
see first one and then several sparrows. Perhaps they're back in my
eaves.
Finally
. . . I read about electric cigarettes last week and was going to
mention them. But forgot to do so. Until today, and a news report
of a coach on Britain's main north-south motorway being surrounded by
armed police and sniffer dogs because someone had fingered a
passenger as a possible terrorist. The chap was using an electric
cigarette, and pouring water("a liquid") into the
cigarette("a bomb"), so as to generate steam("smoke")
to give the full death-stick effect. So, not an example of
Health&Safety gone mad. Just a case of a multiple common sense
bypass. And surely not the last.
A
few PdL fotos:-
The church clock and out hotel/guest house just right and down of it.
The accurately represented bull. I guess in honour of the annual bull-dragging event. Yes, bull-dragging. Possibly, as in Spain, after some prior bull-drugging.
The vicious gully, which almost got me and my laptop. I wonder if I could have successfully sued them if the latter had been broken. As if.
Reminders of Britain. Another one was the red telephone boxes, painted white. And the white teapot on the breakfast table. Even if it did contain milk.
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