Woody Allen had it right! He filmed part of Vicky Christina Barcelona in Oviedo, and the city fathers added his image in bronze to their amazing catalogue of public art. I met him, quite by accident one early rainy morning.
I could add Intoxicating, Fascinating, and WET to his description.
I spent two nights and the best part of three days in Oviedo, while I tried to decide what to do with the rest of my trip. Anna had invited me to visit her in Madrid and I sent her quite a few emails from the public library while checking out train and bus connections from Oviedo. I was there every time it opened, and I started to feel like one of the gang of old men who congregated by the door, chafing to get in and read the papers.
I was more and more loathe to attempt the Camino Primitivo. What if I found I couldn't do those huge downhills and I was stuck in the middle of nowhere with no way to get back? (In retrospect, I see that it was a silly fear. I might not have been able to cope with the hills, but I'm pretty sure I could have found my way out by bus or taxi or somebody's uncle's cattle truck). I still wanted those mountain vistas, and the chance to see a bear, but I was beginning to think that seeing the capital, with its parks and museums and cosmopolitan life, especially in the company of Anna, might be a good second choice. But while I was waiting for her reply, I could enjoy the sights and sounds of this pretty little city.
I saw folk dancing in the square, people in their wedding finery in the Plaza de la Constitucion, visited markets and the FREE art gallery, where you could take pictures as long as you didn't use flash. There were Roman traces if you looked, and in the Camara Santa, the eighth century tower which forms the foundation of the huge Cathedral, I found myself wishing I lived in Oviedo, so I would have time to sit and sketch the elongated forms of the apostles, carved in crisp limestone. I wandered the sopping streets early in the morning, discovering the gorgeous Campo de San Francisco right in the heart of the town.
When I first arrived, I found the albergue (eventually) down one of the streets near the cathedral, but it looked damp and didn't open for hours, so I looked up a small hostal that I'd written down in my guidebook and booked a room there instead. When I ventured out again, I met the Czech, who followed me around like a faithful dog for a while. We went and had a coffee/beer and wandered around the outside of the Cathedral taking the same pictures. In the Plaza we met Philip, and I introduced the two men to each other. Philip had walked all the way and was very wet. I asked him if he'd seen the gypsies at Colloto. Of course he had. Philip had a knack for being in the right place at the right time. I'd told him about the bufones, geysers created by incoming tides being forced through holes in the limestone cliffs; when I had passed them in a forced march with Rodrigo the tide was out. Philip had video!
Philip mentioned how the gypsies had been very interested in him, making him feel exotic, rather than the other way around, and then asked me in all seriousness why there were no German gypsies. I sighed, and in the politest way I could think of, suggested that there were reasons that he could probably figure out if he thought about it for bit, and that I didn't think we needed to go into them then and there. I think I saw a lightbulb go on in his head.
I brought the two of them to the albergue, and gave Philip one of my fairy godmother hugs. I hoped we'd meet again on the Primitvo, but you never knew, so each hug on the Camino is like the last. And in this case, it was.
In the end, Anna did not reply. This puzzled me because I was pretty sure her offer had been sincere, but after cooling my heels for quite a while, I decided to give the Primitivo a shot.
I took up my pack and walked out of town. Even the humbler parts of the place were clean and tidy, After going down one side of a valley, over the railway, and up the other side, I was out in the country very quickly.
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