[Camino Portuguese Day 3] Tomar to Calvinos
Knights of Templar, Top Bunk, Unsupervised Pilgrims at an Albergue
Saturday, 4/22/23: Tomar to Calvinos [12 km]
Video coming soon
Gotta say, it was SO nice having a bed with a duvet cover. It’s warm and cozy because there’s just that slight bit of weight from the blanket! No need to curl up into a ball tonight in a restrictive sleep sack. I’m pretty sore all over, especially in my hips, calves, and shoulders. Shouldn’t have slacked on physical therapy. It felt a little like the tightness I get in my legs during marathon training, coupled with the need to stretch and roll them out. But it hurts to stretch and I don’t have a foam roller or tennis balls on me.
In any case, I slept pretty well despite my feet being super sore and throbbing all night long. Halfway through the night, I thought maybe I didn’t elevate enough. So I spun around and put my legs up against the wall. But then the wall was too cold. Of course I could have crawled out of bed and rummaged for socks, but I didn’t. So I tucked myself back to normal position.
Mathilda, Aiseya, and I had a lazy and slow morning. We decided last night not to hoof it to the next stop. Despite putting our wet clothes on/near the mini heaters, some of the clothes were still wet and our shoes were definitely smelly. We packed up and checked out by the 10:30 am deadline.
We left our backpacks and damp trail runners on the first floor (no lockers), at the same time as a cyclist (pilgrim?) was leaving. The hospitalero excitedly and proudly showed us a huge garage and his workshop. His plan is to turn it into a place for people to check out in the mornings and make breakfast without disturbing the other guests. Maybe he’s a new hostel owner, hence the excitement? He’s ever so chipper this morning. Because he as amblyopia (aka lazy eye), it’s a little hard to tell which one of us he’s looking at as he talks. He snapped a photo of the three of us in front of the hostel before we set off to explore the historic city of Tomar.
From the hostel, we walked about half a mile to the Convento de Cristo (UNESCO Heritage site) and Castelo de Tomar. It was on the top of the hill overlooking the city. On the way, we bumped into the two English women from the hostel having a morning café. They still hadn’t made it to the Matchbox Museum, which has now become a running joke. We passed a sign for menu del dia (first one I’ve seen all trip!) for 4 euros at a Cafe Stop, so made plans to return later.
The castle was the first line of defense against the Moors. It’s really well preserved, featuring Renaissance, Gothic, and Romanesque architectural elements.
I semi-reluctantly wore Crocs for this morning outing, and had trouble walking up the cobblestone hill to the Convent. Mathilda suggested putting it in “sport mode.” “What is that?” I ask, showing my age. Did you know it’s a catchphrase for “put the ankle strap down”? Well, I attest that it’s pure magic! Seriously, what a world of difference. Thanks, Gen Z. Maybe these ugly shoes aren’t so bad after all.
Medieval immersion time! The Convent was very impressive. Too bad they can’t convert it into an albergue. That’d truely be a throwback to the “old days,” in which they did actually host pilgrims. They certainly have the dorm rooms and mess hall to accommodate vast quantities of people. It was rather big and I almost missed an entire section by going to the bathroom. It had tiles from the 17th century. The grand room had spires and paintings of biblical images. In Gothic and Manueline style.
The rest of the building has six cloisters, the Friar’s quarters, dormitory, cistern, gardens, lots of open hallways. Maybe it's where they walk and think. There are two facing benches in different sections of the cloisters. I assume for monks to meditate or to talk to one another. Similar stone bench by window in each dorm room.
Huge dining table – reminds me of the Renaissance Faire kind of images. Can images turkey legs nad mashed potatoes being served, and someone important coming to make a proclamation from the little alcove in the middle of the room.
The other most important structure in this building is the Charola. It’s supposedly modeled after the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. It is sixteen-sided on the outside and octagonal on the inside.
The other point of interest in the convent is the Manueline Window (Janela do Capítulo) depicting the Tree of Life by Diogo de Arruda, which is under restoration.
Another Manueline-style window.
The church has been under construction since June 2022. So maybe it’ll be even more picturesque later. The gardens weren’t particularly well kept, There was a wine shop by the gift shop by the exit. Of course.
Mathilda exited first and was waiting on the walls when I came out. We watched two ladies hurry out and seem to have a little argument with each other about buying fruit from the likely-overpriced fruit cart at the exit. One was trying to rush the other one along. Mathilda showed me the postcards and bookmarks she bought while we waited for Aiseya to mosey out.
Our route takes us past Mata Nacional dos Sete Montes, Seven Hills National Forest. It has historical ties to the Convento de Cristo. Looked like it’d be a lovely walk, but our feet are toast. No extra wandering today. Hunger wins.
There was a couple that appeared to be arguing, and we made up a story about what they were arguing about. We retrace our steps to the cafe for lunch. Aisyea ordered a chorizo asado, and was super disappointed because he wasn’t expecting literally a gigantic piece of sausage in a dish. The lady did bring out a basket of bread! He had no idea what he ordered, and it became a running joke for the rest of the month. Mathilda is vegetarian and the cafe was out of the only vegan offering. The lady was incredible. She ran out and bought cheese to make an amazing salad with tomatoes and eggs. I would have definitely ordered that. I got a soup and my first bifana sandwich (supposedly a Portuguese staple from my research).
Our lunch convo was interesting. Politics. Healthcare. Education system. I learned so much. Both Norway and Holland have kings (figureheads). The people vote for a party that then elects a Prime Minister. In the Netherlands, if you don’t vote, you can give away your vote to a family member. In Norway, kids go cross country skiing with their class starting at age five, and they go twice a week until grade 10. How cool! They do the same with ice skating. Maybe that’s how they get a stellar roster of Olympic biathletes!
On our walk down the hill back to the city center, we talked about military service and the associated requirements. Is the military the only way to discipline people? Is it a good way to have young people become independent? What are other ways to do that? Can service work, like Peace Corps, offer similar outcomes?
Many of the sidewalks in Tomar are laid out in white and black cobblestone, with the Knights of Templar cross, called the “cross pattée.” It’s a symbol of Valor, representing honor and dignity.
There was a guy fixing the sidewalk by hand. A bucket of sand. A pile of square stones. Hand chisel to customize fit. Talk about talent in masonry. Impressive work.
At around noon, we head back towards the hostel. After picking up some food from Spar, concerned that we might not have food for the night, we retrieved our bags. We had given the hospitalero a window of when we thought we’d be back, and we returned well within that window. He still managed to made a dig at us about making him wait to eat. Meh. Not ranking this place as the most pleasant hostel experience.
Aiseya and I told Mathilda about Karl. “Going Karl” became our phrase for walk fast and furiously, and leave everyone in the dust. Aiseya booked another hostel (a real 15 euro one) and planned to stay another night in Tomar. It was in the city center, where lots of cute boutique shops and restaurants are. We all looked at each other wondering what it would have been like had we stayed here last night!
Mathilda and I bid him goodbye and continued onward. Semi-hidden down one of the streets is the famous “oldest synagogue of Portugal.”
Following the Camino arrows, we crossed over the Nabão River where there are black swans. And soon we were in the outskirts of Old Town and on a nice dirt path (and even saw a trail runner!). It would be a terrific place to trail run. I wonder if there are runners (probably ultra runners) who run the Camino. Would they just ship their luggage ahead? Would they have to run 20 miles a day? Could I ever do that?
During travels in my 20s, I met many people around my age and even slightly older who were “taking gap years” or were Erasmus students. Prior to living in Spain after college, I had never heard of a gap year, which is essentially a time after high school and before college where people often explore the world and get to know themselves better. Sometimes it’s a year, sometimes longer, sometimes shorter. There’s not necessarily the expectation to graduate high school and immediately go to college. Similarly, I hadn’t heard of Erasmus either, which is what the Europeans call college study abroad or internship programs in another country.
I was delighted to chat more with Mathilda. From meeting her in Santarém, I was already impressed by her adventurous and brave nature. And today I find out more about what makes her cool in my book.
Mathilda’s on her gap year and has been traveling for almost a year. She started out on a solo trip to Canada, with aspirations to bike the Great Divide, from Banff to Mexico. WHAT!? She said it was mentally tough, especially after seeing a grizzly bear on day 2 or 3. It was right behind her. She gave up and went home, thinking she was a failure. Aww! I mean, that’s a huge trip for anyone to undertake. And omg bears of all sorts would terrify me, too. Then she went on a trip with friends to South America. Her boyfriend got mugged twice in Brazil. Holy smokes! That’s terrifying, too!
She’s walking the Camino solo and having a blast. She has an aggressive schedule because she needs to get home by a certain date, so that’s why she’s been walking these crazy long distances since setting out from Lisbon. I’m saddened to see the blisters on her feet, which I’m sure is painful to walk with and to keep clean.
I learn that in the EU, students are effectively paid to go to university. They get something like 16k euros a year while they’re in school to cover living costs, but tuition is free. Health care is on an elective scale. All conditions and specialist visits must be referred by the primary doctor though, so things sometimes take a while.
Mental illnesses in Scandinavia is pretty bad nowadays (there’s an article in the Guardian about it). Despite ranking well on the Happiness Index, she doesn’t think the index captures the right metrics. She notes that people in Iberia seem happier – they smile more here! I can see that!
In Norway, it is about a six month wait for a referral to a psychologist. Six months?! Why so long? The country matches patients to doctors. Maybe if it’s an emergency, they can be seen faster? I certainly hope so. Going to a private psychologist can cost upwards of 200 euros a session. I hear about all the wonders of universal healthcare, but we don’t often hear about the bureaucracy and limitations. So in that light, I’m pretty lucky that despite our expensive and crazy-to-understand health care system in the US, I have been able to find an exceptional therapist.
Mathilda told me a little about her family. I want to meet her mom. So her mom was so inspired by Mathilda’s bravery in solo travel, that she quit her job to travel, too. And upon return, she rearranged her work. She’s now working 50% of the time as an independent consultant, which gives her more flexibility over her schedule and noticeably happier. That’s what I want! I mean, I’ve been trying to design into my life towards that, albeit with difficulty! It’s encouraging to hear at least another human who has accomplished it.
I asked Mathilda if she’s always been so independent — you know, was it nature or nurture? Were her parents strict? Did she grow up in an environment that enabled her to explore freely? Did she feel the need to rebel against societal norms? I think of Scandinavian society as being pretty egalitarian and as a consequence, Scandinavian women are raised as strong feminists.
She then reversed the question on me. Honestly, I didn’t have an answer for myself when I asked her. I had to think about it. I’m functional and responsible as much as I can be for an adult. But no, I don’t think of myself as being particularly independent. I have a deep desire for adventure, sure. But I’ve become more and more scared as I get older to do new things. In my 30s, I’ve become highly anxious by trying to maximize or control the chances of getting to my desired outcome. But there are no guarantees in life except death, and trying to control for the unknown is exhausting and impossible. That’s one of the reasons I’m on the Camino, because I needed a break from the life I want to create but can’t shape. I add that I have become more independent over the last few years, since my engagement breakup, since being in therapy, since taking the time to know myself more, etc. I try not rely on others, but often times, it’s nice to be able to depend on and trust in others.
We passed a field of sheep and went up/down a hill.
Seven miles after leaving Tomar, we arrived to Calvinos.
The albergue was on the corner of a small and quiet neighborhood block. To the right were a few houses that reminded me of Iceland honestly. To the left was the Camino arrows that we’ll take tomorrow to our next destination. The albergue building was marked ever so discretely, just a brown metal sign on a white building. We walked past it the first time and wandered around the residential block, and was honked at by a guy in a car pointing us toward the Camino arrows. Turns out he was the hospitalero who then let us in. Not much of a talker. The office was a tiny room with a halfsized door. My backpack was too wide to fit through the threshold. He checked us in, we paid, he pointed to the cabinet of sheets to spread on the mattresses, and left. I guess we were lucky that he saw us, else how would we get in?
It was a super cute albergue – basically just one big room. Five bunk beds enough for 10 people. Some sizeable locker cabinets doubled as a wall separating beds from the large common area. But it was impossible to open the cabinet doors to actually put things in, so I just left everything out. Even just moving the cabinets back a foot would have helped a lot. Or faced them 180 degrees, so we can actually access them from the common area. The common area was empty, except for two desks. All-modern bathrooms with two showers. A nice mini-kitchen. Sterile. Very IKEA feel. My favorite part was the big patio for sunning clothes or doing yoga or journaling (I did all of that). The patio overlooks trees and wildflowers.
Greeting us was most pilgrims I’ve seen in one place thus far! It was like walking into a retiree party! There were four other Americans: the couple from Kansas that I met in Golegā (Pat and Beau) who chatted about Afghanistan while I played soccer with the chocolate lab, Joyce from Oregon who rides horses on her ranch and walked the Camino Frances last year, and Dan from Texas who is a widower and retired teacher. There were two Dutch ladies from Utrecht who were long-time mom friends since their 20s. I recognized their backpacks from the fruit stand at the Convento de Cristo this morning. There was also a Spaniard named Manuel. There was still one empty bed, but no one shows up.
I went to work doing the chore-stuff. Made up my bed with the sheet and sleeping liner, took a hot shower, hand washed my clothes in the bathroom sink, hung them on the fence on the patio hoping we got enough sun left. It’s going to be my first time sleeping in a top bunk in YEARS. Since we were the last to arrive, we got the middle bunk, which essentially faced the open part of the room divider with full light.
I moved a chair from the kitchen to the patio, and started to journal. I didn’t get far because the Dutch ladies came out to chat. They’re super cute. They’re in their 60s and have excellent English. Like me, they are also orange lovers and were lucky enough to get orange gear (maybe some day I’ll upgrade my stuff)! One lady went through a breakup just a week before coming, and then days later, her ex had a stroke! She was more than thrilled to tell me about her hobbies, like getting her community to knit during covid, which was featured on Dutch TV. The other lady is a newly retired nurse who has spent the past few months caring for her sick husband, so this trip for self-care. She has plans to travel in an RV with her hubby next. Both have adult kids. One has a nephew who lives in the Boston area with his wife and kids, and works for BCG. I wish I got the ladies’ names and contacts – would have been fun to stay in touch. They’re so vibrant and energetic!
Mathilda and I were informed by the American pilgrims that there’s a tiny shop selling a limited amount of “lackluster” goods. I was excited to see this spot — sounds like a notable Camino experience. It is caddy corner from the albergue, past the mama and baby donkey, inside the local cafe bar. We have to ask the lady behind the counter, because it’s entrance and location is not obvious. Indeed, in the tiny cafe that had one elderly gentleman watching TV, was a little mercado behind the bar. It was about the size of a bedroom, dimly lit. It sold some fresh produce, and some boxed and canned goods. Mathilda and I went to pick up a few items. Despite the warnings, it was a very cute and endearing experience. I got a kiwi, a tomato, and an ice cream.
On the walk, Mathilda told me that during the height of the pandemic, Portugal was selling property for 1 euro to try to entice investors to come fix them up. Dang! How did I not hear about this? It sort of makes sense, based on what I have seen on my walk so far. We’ve walked through lots of the tiny towns that had a high percentage of dilapidated buildings. The ones that are owned have either (mean) guard dogs on chains or roosters.
Back at the albergue, I ate my mini-haul of snacks, along with things from my backpack: ketchup-flavored chips, crackers and butter, chocolate milk. I planned tomorrow’s trip. And stretched. The ladies asked if I was a physical therapist because I had some suggestions for everyone wanting to stretch out tired hips.
I found the Americans to be a little stuffy, and didn’t get particularly nice vibes from them. Beau and Pat were cuddling on his bunk. Joyce was filming herself, very loudly, on TikTok or Instagram; she says she needed to keep her grandkids appraised of her adventures. In this edition, she was complaining/bragging about having to eat cereal for dinner. She was also complaining incessantly to anyone and no one about an Irishman named Michael. They had met on a previous trip and he “just magically” surprised her by the Sé in Lisbon. And how happy she is that they (she and Dan) ditched him. Dan isn’t much of a talker, but when he did, had a charming southern drawl. Mathilda was curved up in her fluffy sleeping bag recovering and watching videos on her phone. She was planning to leave really early in the morning. I was planning to get up when I get up, probably around 7.
I was in observation mode. I watched the two Dutch ladies pull up their Google Translate app to chat with Manuel, who was jovial but didn’t speak English. The three of them were so lively and laughing so hard. It was delightful. I didn’t know what was going on, and didn’t need to. My very limited Spanish made up a storyline in my head that one of the Dutch ladies was asking the Spaniard to find a hook up for her friend. But it was probably nothing like that. Manuel showed us pictures of his family – he’s close to 70 and has a son and daughter about my age. He was solo traveling, and has walked several other Caminos before. I love their happiness and openness. It was contagious.
I love it out here so far! I’m not prebooking beds, still hoping I’ll find a bed when I need a bed. So far, so good. All the forums keep saying, “The Camino provides.” Maybe I can learn to trust in figuring things out in the moment, rather than wrestling for control. I can feel that there are so many life lessons and head clearing that is going to happen on this trip. And it’s all going to benefit me well.
Lessons from today:
I have to get the age thing out of my head. I don’t have to be a teacher or mentor-figure to people younger than me. Just like I don’t have to defer to older people for life and career advice.
I still feel pressured to hit specific milestones by specific times in my life, but I’m seeing that life can unfold differently from what I hoped and still be amazing. Sure, having babies is restricted by age and time, but not everyone needs to. Because everyone’s on their own individual journey anyway.
I can be peers with people who are as young as 20 years my junior and as old as 30 years my senior.
There’s no age limit to fun and adventures, as long as you’re healthy.
As nice as it is to walk solo, it’s also nice to walk with other people and swap stories.
Always carry some food, because you never know when you’ll have only snacks or a behind-the-bar mercado.
Previous Day:
![[Camino Portuguese Day 2] Golegā to Tomar](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!qflg!,w_140,h_140,c_fill,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep,g_auto/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fff663409-944e-46f0-bcf9-f9b1bc22e6e2_1046x1394.jpeg)
Next Day:
![[Camino Portuguese Day 4] Calvinos to Alvaiázere](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!k1Zo!,w_140,h_140,c_fill,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep,g_auto/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa99de118-7749-482e-ac45-ddf975b1eb95_1858x1394.jpeg)