O Cebreiro

our arrival in O Cebreiro presaged much for the duration of our Camino and gave us an early glimpse of how distinct Galician culture would prove. the town sits astride a pass some 1,239 meters up that divides León and Galicia; it was immediately evident, looking down the western slope, to see how much differently the weather would be as we crossed through Galicia and finally entered Santiago. while the sun shone brightly as we entered town a thunderstorm swept through during our typical mid-afternoon nap, leaving the air significantly cooler and the cobblestones slick as we made our way from the room in our casa rural back to the pub from whence we’d retrieved our key.

a Roman way station guarded the pass into Galicia during their rule over Spain, but evidence points to even earlier habitation and settlement. the village is known for a large selection of well-preserved palloza structures — circular buildings with conical, thatched roofs that share similarities to the round houses of Iron Age Britain, as well as with those found virtually wherever archaeologists have uncovered Celtic settlements (e.g. Ireland, Brittany, Scotland, Morocco and, at least in fiction, the Gaul of Asterix fame). Galician culture shares much with Celtic traditions of Ireland as is evident throughout O’Cebreiro, and anyone who’s visited both can attest to the similarities in climate. some of the earliest people to inhabit Galicia were of Celtic descent and known as Gallaeci and had according to Roman records, had a particularly warlike spirit that repulsed the more pervasive efforts of the Romans to assimilate them into Roman culture.

in recent years O’Cebreiro has become something of a tourist destination; in addition to the well-preserved pallozas, there’s a museum dedicated to the ethnographic heritage of the region with traditional tools on display. the village is also known for a miracle involving the Holy Grail that reputedly took place in the local church. as my cultural guidebook puts it, in the 14th century the “Grail”, an incredulous priest, and a snowstorm resulted in a miracle; basically, when a local peasant arrived in the midst of a snowstorm to hear mass and the priest berated him for his foolhardiness, the wine and bread he was holding turned into actual flesh and blood. in 1487, Pope Innocent VIII certified the veracity of the miracle and this, in addition to an 1486 visit visit by the Catholic monarchs as they made their way to Santiago de Compostela, did wonders for the prosperity of the village. (the royals donated two “large gold nuggets” and asked the Pope to transfer a degree of authority and autonomy church officials closer to the village and, presumably, more aware of the needs of the inhabitants and peregrinos.)

success of the village in the modern era, as well as many notable improvements to the Camino for peregrinos who traverse it today, stems largely from the work of one parish priest, Elías Valiña Sampedro. he wrote two books on the Camino (and introduced the concept of placing explanatory text on one page with a map facing) and is credited for implementing the ubiquitous (and ever reassuring) yellow arrows to mark the path. he also played a role in collecting and preserving artifacts of rural Galician culture as can now be seen in the museum. he’s memorialized with a bust in the square beside the church; we stopped for a look when we realized we couldn’t go look around the church as interrupting mass wouldn’t go over well.

our homecoming tradition

as any of you who have been reading my blog for more than a year know, each October I meet up with some good friends from college in a town where one of us lives. the first annual was in Vegas, followed by San Diego, Los Angeles, Santa Cruz and, this year, Denver. starting with the Museum of Jurassic Technology in Culver City, we started a tradition of finding crazy, odd-ball, or definitively kitsch tourist-trap sites for our weekends. you know, the kinds of places you probably wouldn’t ever go if you didn’t have the right kinds of friends in town visiting. in Santa Cruz, I convinced everyone to go to the Mystery Spot and, later, we rode the Giant Dipper on the Santa Cruz Boardwalk.

this year, thanks to the excellent day-planning skills of our host, one of our first stops was the Denver Museum of Miniatures, Dolls, and Toys. it has a meticulous replica of the childhood home of a Denver scion, as well as period and regional displays — pueblos, a 16th century German town store, a hacienda — all very impressive. but in addition to these fascinating miniature displays, the museum hosts an odd assortment of classic toys and games (a very early model E-Z Bake Oven, board games from the 1950s, superhero figurines in original blister packaging) and three giant teddy bears. while either the papa or mama bear came over from England (where all three were made) in the belly of a jetliner, as would your average piece of freight, the smallest (standing at least 5 feet tall), crossed the pond in a first class seat. who knew such enthusiasm existed for such things?

the location and museum staffer added to the atmosphere, too. upon seeing five twentysomethings waiting outside the front door, the gentleman taking tickets seemed rather uncertain as to how to cope with such a large group of unexpected early-Friday visitors. he offered us makeshift clip-boards for a scavenger hunt and wished us well. the museum itself is located in the historic Pearce-McAllister cottage and displays take up most of the rooms … including two bathrooms. the toilets in both bathrooms have ribbons over the top with notes admonishing visitors not to utilize them. we restrained ourselves and one of our party, so amused by the situation, took a clandestine photo of one of the toilets.

next year, the plan is for the House on the Rock which, pursuant to the criterion posed above that we go places one would never go unless with the right group of friends were in town.