Bryce & Damon in Europe
by Pertinax Carrus
Chapter 4, More of Spain
Astorga
After purchasing their scallops to commemorate their visit to Santiago, Bryce and Damon set out for the long drive to Burgos. At 325 miles, this would be their longest road trip thus far, and the second longest in their entire itinerary. By Bryce’s method of reckoning, it would take them nearly six hours. Their route took them more or less on the Way of St. James in reverse. After about three hours, they reached Astorga, where they had to change highways, so they decided to stop there for lunch and gas (or petrol, Damon reminded Bryce).
They had not intended to stop at Astorga, but once there they found it an absorbing interest. At the cafeteria where they stopped for lunch there was WiFi, so Bryce consulted his laptop to discover that it had been a major center during Roman times, and one of the oldest episcopal sees in Spain, dating to the third century. During the wars between Christian and Moslem, the town was destroyed and remained virtually uninhabited during the eighth and ninth centuries, but began to revive as a stopping place on the pilgrim route to Santiago.
There are Roman walls, a magnificent fifteenth century cathedral built on the remains of a twelfth century predecessor, as well as an interesting nineteenth century episcopal palace and a town hall dating from the seventeenth century. This mini-tour of Astorga delayed their departure by over and hour, but was considered worth it by both guys. They decided to skip León.
Burgos
Back on the road after eating and changing drivers, they made good time, arriving in Burgos a little after 5:00 p.m. They had reservations at the Hotel Zenit Puerto de Burgos, which lay outside the old city. It was a new construction, quite comfortable, but with no aesthetic advantages. This was one of the money-saving accommodations Damon had insisted on, so he said nothing when Bryce commented negatively on both the location and the ambiance.
After checking in, they drove into the old city and parked the car. The magnificent cathedral, one of the most impressive in Spain, and one of the finest examples of Gothic architecture in Europe, dominated the scene. They would visit there in the morning, when the light was better. For the evening, they wanted to check out a few other sites, and find a good place to eat. As its name indicated, Burgos was founded in 884 as a frontier fortification in the wars with the Moslems, and later became the capital of the Kingdom of Castile. In addition to the cathedral, there were many interesting and historic structures, which the guys viewed only from the outside.
They found a new restaurant called La Comidilla de San Lorenzo, opened only earlier that year, which offered a more modern atmosphere. After all, history was fine, but one did not have to imbibe it twenty-four hours a day. There, they ordered one of the house specialties, secreto con salsa de frambuesa (steak with raspberry sauce), which they found both interesting as a taste and satisfying as a meal. Still operating as Americans, they were among the earliest customers in the restaurant. They struck up a conversation with their waiter, Juan, a young man about their own age. Juan had some English, and Damon had some Spanish, so they were able to communicate. Their waiter advised them to seek dessert elsewhere. On his recommendation, after completing their meal, and leaving him a generous tip, they made their way to the Chocolatería Candelejas where they found the perfect completion to their meal with a raspberry milk shake.
After dessert, Bryce and Damon wandered about for a while, ending up at the club called Luz de Luna, or Light of the Moon, which sported an enchanted forest theme. There they had a few drinks and spent the remainder of the evening talking to the locals. They found that most of the young people spoke some English, and were quite friendly and outgoing, so not only Damon but also Bryce could participate. They did, however, retire before most of their contemporaries, having their own schedule for the morning, and not being used to the Spanish hours. One of the older patrons at the club commented on that. It once was all but universal that Spaniards worked about four or five hours in the morning, then took a long break with the midday meal and siesta, then went back to work for another four or five hours until early evening, then socialized well into the night. This fitted into local conditions, as they would sleep during the hottest parts of the day. But, with modern demands, people living farther from their place of work, many are having their midday meal near where they work instead of going home, then hanging out in a bar or otherwise socializing during the afternoon, or even going back to work. But they still stay up very late, just as they used to. “Spaniards,” he proclaimed, “are becoming a nation of insomniacs.”
Having imbibed perhaps a little more than was advisable, Bryce and Damon were giggling and holding on to each other as they arrived back at their hotel, which earned them disapproving looks from the concierge. Ignoring him, they made their way to their room, where they held their own celebration, leaving them even more exhausted. They fell asleep entangled in each other’s arms.
Next morning, awakened by Bryce’s obnoxious travel alarm, they sluggishly got themselves ready, had breakfast, and then checked out. Driving back into the old town, Bryce found a parking space not far from the cathedral. They entered through the south portal and found a reception office and gift shop immediately to their left. There they were able to obtain a guide book in English. They spent over two hours in the magnificent church, the third largest in Spain. Of especial interest was the tomb in the central crossing of the nave of the Spanish hero El Cid and his wife Doña Ximena.
When Damon began questioning who this was, and why he was important, Bryce steered him to a nearby pew, where they could sit and converse in a low voice. Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, known as El Cid Campeador, lived from 1043 to 1099, and was a major figure in the wars between Moslem and Christian which dominated the entire history of the Iberian Middle Ages, and helped form the Spanish national character. This process is known as the reconquista, or reconquest, in Spanish history. In 711 Moslems from North Africa invaded Christian Spain and, in a very brief time, dominated most of the peninsula. One center of Christian and native culture remained in the northwest, including the area of Santiago where they had been the day before. This developed into the Kingdom of Asturias. In the later eighth and early ninth centuries, a second base for Christian reconquest was established by the expeditions of the Emperor Charlemagne into northeastern Spain, establishing the Spanish March. From Asturias came the later kingdoms of Castile, Leon, and Portugal, while from the Spanish March came the kingdoms of Navarre and Aragon and the County of Barcelona. For over seven centuries, there was more or less continuous conflict between the Christian and Moslem polities in Iberia. Eventually, several major kingdoms developed, absorbing others. There is no reason why two or three of these should combine and leave out the others, but that’s what happened. Despite the unsuccessful union of Portugal and Castile in the fourteenth century, it was the marriage of Isobel of Castile to Ferdinand of Aragon in 1469 which forged modern Spain. This pair completed the reconquista with the conquest of Granada, the last alien stronghold, in January of 1492. Only then were they willing to listen to the dreams of that Italian mariner, Cristobal Colon, a.k.a. Christopher Columbus.
El Cid played a significant part in the eleventh century segment of this history of the reconquista. He was born in Vivar, a small town near Burgos, into a family of the minor nobility, which in England would be called the gentry. In the century after his death, El Cid became the subject of popular legend, resulting in the Spanish national epic, El Cantar de Mio Cid. In the poem, the Cid is the champion of Christendom and a perfect medieval knight, in the same mold as Sir Lancelot or Sir Galahad. In historical fact, he was a successful military leader, who, after his exile from the court of King Alfonso VI, took service with the Emir of Saragossa in 1079. In 1085 King Alfonso recovered Toledo from the Moors, setting off the invasion of the Almoravides the following year. They were a fanatical Moslem element from North Africa, not dissimilar to the Islamist elements today. Officially returning to the service of King Alfonso, El Cid in reality pursued his own ambitions, which led him to rule the Mediterranean realm around Valencia from 1094 until his death five years later. Through his daughters, he is an ancestor of most of the royalty of Europe.
Bryce defended the position that the legend of El Cid was of greater importance than the historical reality. The Christian people needed a hero, and Rodrigo Diaz fitted the role. He was an inspiration for many later deeds of courage and dedication. Like Santiago, it is the legend which is more important than any reality behind it. In this case, the reality was pretty well documented, but not as sterling as needed to inspire a people. The legend fulfilled that need, presenting a “cleaned up” version of Rodrigo Diaz. It was this version who became the national hero, in a similar fashion to Santiago becoming the national saint.
And there he was, right in front of them. Or rather, his tomb was there, along with that of his wife, in the crossing of the nave of the cathedral of Burgos. There was an almost eerie feeling to be in the presence of the physical remains of a character of romance, legend, and movies. Of course, after leaving the nave, they stopped in the gift shop and purchased mementos of the Cid and the cathedral. Damon noted that the images in the souvenir shops did not look at all like Charlton Heston. Well, the movie was released in 1961. Maybe he’d changed since then.
Over lunch Bryce and Damon continued their conversation begun in the cathedral.
“I don’t get it,” Damon complained. “You seem to be kind of at home with these places we visit and with people like Santiago and El Cid, while I’m totally in the dark until you tell me about them. Is it because I’m black?”
Bryce considered, taking Damon’s question seriously. “No, I don’t think so. We both know lots of guys back in Clifton who would be just as lost as you, and who are white. I tried to tell you before that you’re also part of Western civilization. You might have biological roots in West Africa, and someday we’ll travel there to see what’s there, and you can be the guide. But you are not an African, any more than I’m an Englishman. We’re both Americans. We speak the same language. We have similar political and social institutions in Illinois and Nebraska. We had a lot of overlap in our education thus far. We are two parts of a common whole,” he insisted.
“Then why? Why are you at home here and I’m not?” Damon demanded.
“Part of it is surely that I’ve been here before. I’ve been to Fatima and Santiago and Burgos with my family. But, I’ve got to admit, part of it is because I’m Catholic. I told you when we were first planning this trip ....”
“When you were first planning this trip,” Damon interrupted.
“Okay. I admit this is my baby. I want you to experience this because I want you to know everything about me, and all this is part of who I am. I have more in common with Manuel in Santiago, or that Polish family at Fatima, than with someone like Jason Todd back in Clifton. You and I are both products of Western civilization, but I am self-consciously so. I want you to know me, Boyfriend, and this is who I am,” Bryce declared. “I am Francisco Marto. I am a pilgrim to Santiago. I am El Cid. And I will be many more exemplars before we finish this trip. Do you still want to travel with me?”
“I love you, Bryce. I want to be with you forever. You constantly surprise me, but that’s not a bad thing. I only wish I knew as definitely who I am. I have no roots, and yours go back centuries,” Damon lamented.
“We’ll find your roots. Somehow, someday,” Bryce declared. “In the meanwhile, you can share mine, as far as you’re comfortable with them.”
Loyola, Javier, Pamplona
Once their lunch was completed, Bryce and Damon re-entered their car, and found their way to the highway, heading to the northeast. When Damon found that they were heading into the Basque country, he was a bit apprehensive.
“Isn’t there a lot of unrest there, with terrorists and bombings?” he worried.
“There has been,” Bryce admitted.
“Is there some reason, or are they just nuts, as seems the case so often. Back in the projects, I knew guys who did all kinds of violent and cruel things just because they were that way. There did not seem to be much reason behind what they did,” Damon suggested.
“Well, as so often is the case, the roots of the problem lie in history. The Basques are a distinct people, and historically this was recognized by the Spanish monarchy, which agreed to a large measure of local autonomy. But, under Liberal state-building ideas of the nineteenth century, there was a call for more centralization and leveling, so local privileges were suspect. This carried over to not only Liberal but also authoritarian regimes by the early twentieth century. The state was everything, and local ways of doing things did not count. There was unrest earlier, like in the nineteenth century during the Carlist Wars, but the recent problems stem from the left-wing Republic of 1931-39, which offered some degree of local autonomy, but persecuted the Church. That was then reversed under the right-wing dictatorship of Franco which followed, but under the restored monarchy of King Juan Carlos a great deal of autonomy has been restored, and the dissent has died down,” Bryce said.
“So, there are no more terrorists?” Damon pressed.
“Some, but it’s mostly restricted to a few fanatics. It’s kind of like the situation in Ulster. There were real grievances which led to the uprisings, but some elements got so caught up in the violence that they forgot why they were dissatisfied in the first place. Most of the violence in Northern Ireland has nothing to do with religion today, and most of the remaining violence in the Basque provinces has nothing to do with autonomy today. It’s a triumph of hatred over reason. But there are only a few extremists involved,” Bryce attempted to reassure his partner.
“It only takes a few. Actually, only one,” Damon fumed.
They headed towards Pamplona, but turned off in a northward direction after passing Vitoria. They arrived at the Sanctuary of St. Ignatius of Loyola near Azpeitia in the Basque province of Guipuzcoa. This was the ancestral home of the man originally known as Iñigo López de Recalde of Loyola, or, in the Basque language, of Loiolako. Here not Spanish but Basque was spoken, a language unrelated to any other existing language. Scholars have tried to link it to the pre-Celtic Iberians, to the Etruscans, and to several others, but it remains alone in the modern world. In the seventeenth century, when the family home was deeded to the Society of Jesus, a magnificent basilica was erected here to honor the saint, but the family home, called the Santa Casa, was preserved behind the church.
St. Ignatius was born in 1491 into a prominent noble family of the region with links to the ruling dynasty. As a young man, he was part of the court of Ferdinand of Aragon, and entered military service. In the unending wars with the French, he was severely wounded in 1521 and spent a good deal of time in recovery. He was grazed by a cannon ball, and afterwards always limped as a result. During his convalescence, he underwent a spiritual conversion, and devoted his time to attempting to convert others from then on. After a visit to the monastery of Montserrat in 1522 and a period of spiritual retreat, he left for Palestine with the intention of converting the Moslems. At this, he had no success at all, so he returned to Spain and to the equivalent of high school, admitting that his training as a courtier and soldier ill fitted him for the role of missionary. After some problems with the Inquisition, he ended up at the University of Paris, where he formed the core of the Society of Jesus with six others, all Spaniards. Still intent on converting the Moslems, they left for Venice, but found transportation embargoed by a war with the Turks, so they went to Rome, which was still recovering from the sack of 1527. There, they placed themselves at the service of Pope Paul III, who officially recognized the Society in 1540.
“Okay,” Damon said, as they sat on a bench in the courtyard in front of the church. “Back in Lisbon you told me you’d explain about the Jesuits. I understand that this Society of Jesus is the official name of the Jesuits, but I don’t understand about exiling them from Portugal. Explain.”
“Yes, Sir,” Bryce saluted. He then launched into another history lesson. “I have heard some folks say the only good Jesuit was St. Ignatius. I think that’s kind of exaggerated. After we leave here, we’re going about ninety miles to the home of another of the founders, St. Francis Xavier. He was a great missionary in India and Japan, and was on his way to China when he died. He converted thousands to Catholicism. His efforts, and those of many others, balanced the loss of northern Europe. When northern Europe left the Faith in the Protestant movement of the sixteenth century, the scales were balanced by the conversion of an equal number of souls in the Americas, Africa, and Asia. Francis was part of that effort. Also, there was St. Peter Canisius, who helped preserve about half of Germany for the Faith, and St. Edmund Campion, who was martyred under Queen Elizabeth in England. Protestants talk of Bloody Mary, but Catholics used to speak of Bloody Bess, who killed about the same number. She just took longer to do it. Then, there was St. Peter Claver. You should get to know him. He did what he could to ameliorate the condition of the slaves brought to Spanish America. Also there is St. Isaac Jogues and his companions, who were martyred by Iroquois Indians in what is now upper state New York. There’s also Mateo Ricci in China. No, there were many good Jesuits.” Bryce took a moment to gather his thoughts.
“So, why were they expelled from Portugal?” Damon persisted.
“It wasn’t only Portugal. The expulsion from Portugal was followed by that from Spain, then that from France. Finally, in 1773 Pope Clement XIV issued a bull, that is an official pronouncement, called Dominus ac Redemptor, in which he suppressed the Jesuits for the peace of the Church. They were not officially reinstated until 1814. As to why, well, the Jesuits were the chief opponents of the secularists, which earned them a bad press among ‘enlightened’ elements in eighteenth century Europe. They also insisted on their independence, which was not appreciated by the monarchs of the period. But, it must be admitted, a lot of the blame rests with them. They had become wealthy and powerful, and with it arrogant, thinking they could do as they pleased without considering the governments of Europe. That same arrogance alienated many of the other Catholic religious orders as well. Also, some accused them of financial irregularities. Even today, I have heard it said that they are more interested in being loyal Jesuits than in being loyal Catholics. So, to get back to your original question, no, not all Catholics like the Jesuits, and part of it is their own fault,” Bryce concluded.
After this history lesson, the guys passed first into the Santa Casa, where they viewed the room where St. Ignatius was born, and that where he underwent his convalescence. In the latter there is a statue of him with his leg bandaged, a book in one hand, and his face turned heavenward. Leaving the house, they stopped in the church. A Mass was in progress, with a priest giving the sermon. He was speaking in Basque, which sounded very odd and harsh to the two Americans, so they did not stay.
From Loyola Bryce drove eastward to the village of Sanguesa in the region of Navarre, near which is the family home of St. Francis Xavier, in modern Spanish Francisco de Jasso y Azpilicueta of Javier. They discussed this phenomenon of the interchangeable X and J. Both the X and the J are pronounced with a heavy aspiration in modern Spanish, but there is some evidence it was not always so. In Pierre Corneille’s adaptation of the Cid legend in French in 1637, El Cid’s wife is called Chimiene, pronounced She - mee -en. Somewhat earlier, perhaps influence by the cultural dominance of Spain at the time, William Shakespeare at least once experimented with spelling his name Xakspere. So, around 1600 the X may have been pronounced like the English ‘sh’ and Mexico would have been pronounced Meshiko.
The castle of Javier today is a largely reconstructed version of the ancestral home of Doña Maria de Azpilicueta, mother of St. Francis Xavier. It dates in its core, a simple tower keep, to the tenth century. Gradually, it acquired additions, until, by the time Francis was born in 1506, it was a complex arrangement of fortified rings. The castle was partly destroyed until restorations took place in the nineteenth century. Frescos in the chapel dating from the fifteenth century depict the Dance of Death, a common theme in the aftermath of the plague. Bryce and Damon also visited the rooms of the saint, some displays of an historical nature about missionary activity in Asia, and the crenellated terrace atop the Tower of St. Michael, the original keep.
In the course of their visit, Damon learned that St. Francis died on 3 December 1552 at Macao on the southern coast of China while awaiting a boat to take him to mainland China. The body was taken back to Goa on the west coast of India, then in Portugese possession, where his remains were interred in the Church of Bom Jesus, and in 1637 they were placed in a glass container in a silver casket there, where they remain to this day. The right arm, used in baptizing thousands of converts, was detached in 1614 and put on display in the Jesuit headquarters church, Il Gesù, in Rome.
“This thing you guys have of keeping bodies and parts of bodies in your churches is weird,” Damon declared.
“Just one of our many lovable traits,” Bryce kidded. “We like to be near our heroes.”
From Javier, they drove 32 miles west to Pamplona, which they had by-passed on the road from Loyola to Javier. There they would dine and spend the night at the Hotel Cross Elorz, in the center of town. After checking in, they found an excellent restaurant nearby following the advice of a very helpful man at the hotel. After dinner, they wandered the streets of the old town.
“A month from now, this would be a lot less safe than it is today,” Bryce commented.
“Why is that?” Damon asked.
“In July there is a custom here of bulls running through the streets, with lots of young men running ahead. It can be very dangerous. Ernest Hemingway wrote about this in his novel The Sun Also Rises in 1926. Well, it’s not exactly about the running of the bulls, but that’s an event in the novel,” Bryce said.
“Oh, yeah. That was one of the novels we could read in English class. I didn’t read that one, but I remember now some of the other kids discussing it,” Damon recalled. “So, this is the actual place.”
“Yes, the actual place. Being someplace where an event occurred makes it more real, I think,” Bryce commented.
“Yeah. I kind of wish I had read that one now,” Damon said.
As it happened, they came upon a bookstore still open, and went in. There was an English language section, and sure enough, there was a paperback copy of The Sun Also Rises. Damon purchased it, with Bryce saying he wanted to reread it when he was finished. Leaving the bookstore, they passed the town hall from the balcony of which the town dignitaries watch the fun. Each day between July 6 and 14 this event takes place in honor of San Fermin, the third century first bishop of Pamplona. Anyone over eighteen and not intoxicated can participate. Runners wear white shirt and pants, and wear a red bandanna. The running begins with a prayer to San Fermin in both Spanish and Basque, then, at 8:00 each morning, the bulls are released, and run at about 15 m.p.h. through the streets to the bullring. Six will be killed in bullfights that day, but others, used as leaders or decoys, run every day.
“Some of the animal rights groups complain, but they’re a bunch of fanatics. I wish they would be as concerned about people,” Bryce remarked.
“Don’t people get killed doing this?” Damon asked.
Bryce consulted his laptop. “Since 1910 there have been 15 deaths. That’s fifteen in a hundred years, a better average than American football. According to this article, there have been many football related deaths each year in the USA, but it doesn’t say which years are covered, but it does say the largest number in one year was 18 in 1905. Here, the most in any year was two in 1947 and 1980, with ages of those who died ranging from 17 to 63. The seventeen year old shouldn’t have been running. Oh, wait. It says here he suffocated in a pile up at the entrance to the bull ring, so maybe he wasn’t running. The last death was last year, a 27 year old named Daniel Jimeno Romero.”
“I don’t think I’ll stay on for that,” Damon commented.
“Not in our schedule,” Bryce agreed.
Back at the hotel, Damon read some of The Sun Also Rises before turning in. He also wrote a post card, which he would mail the next morning. Each day on their trip he mailed a postcard to his nephew Nathan.
The next morning, they visited the cathedral and the fortifications, with wonderful views of the surrounding countryside. Pamplona was the capital of the Kingdom of Navarre, which survived as an independent entity until the early sixteenth century, but then was absorbed into the Spanish realm being created by Ferdinand and Isobel. It was here that St. Ignatius was wounded. Like Burgos and Astorga, it was a stop on the Way of St. James.
After lunch, they were again in the car, following the A15 north towards San Sebastian on the Bay of Biscay. About 12 miles northeast of that cultural center, they crossed the border into France, and began a new chapter in their European tour.