Lo lo lo lo Vamos Cartagena!

If a week is a long time in Politics (just ask erstwhile PM Liz Truss), then two and a half years is a long time in the life of a blog originally set up to talk all things "real Spain" including real football. Since I first introduced the subject (see Real Football in Spain), the Real Federación Española de Fútbol (RFEF) has streamlined its previously labyrinthine four-tier structure of four hundred and forty football teams by (wait for it) inserting a new third tier and adding another twenty teams into the overall mix. On the bright side, that means another twenty teams added to the original four hundred and thirty nine for potential visits by Mrs C and I.

I say "teams" as opposed to "clubs" because the B teams of many of the larger, well known clubs participate in this structure albeit the B team cannot play in a division any higher than one below that in which the first team plays.

Briefly, the Primera División (La Liga) consists twenty teams, the Segunda División twenty two teams, the (new third tier) Primera Federación two leagues of twenty teams each, the  Segunda Federación five leagues of eighteen teams each and the Tercera Federación eighteen leagues of sixteen teams each. As for promotions and relegations? Trust me, don't even go there beyond the top two divisions.

So if you think that the Spanish football league structure is complex, just wait until you start looking at the histories of its member clubs. Politics, hubris, corruption and bankruptcies make Derby County's recent travails seem positively mundane by comparison. Take a look at Homage to Murcia: A season of Football Anarchy for one such example of a complex football club history.

And so, only a mere two years after our one and only "real football in Spain" experience at the start of the 2019/20 later-to-be-aborted season, we're back! Yes, Mrs C and I have made it not once, not twice but three times to our nearest decent(ish) size football team with at least one more home match to take in before we head back to the UK in early November. And who is the lucky recipient of our current affections? It is the team of (currently doing well in the Segunda División) FC Cartagena, not to be confused with (currently lost somewhere in a sixth tier division) Cartagena FC. And indeed it would be only too easy to get confused as a quick delve into history makes it anything but clear.

Cartagena CF was founded in 1919 but went out of business following the 1951/52 season for making the rookie mistake of not paying its players.

Cartagena FC was founded in 1940, originally as UD Cartagenera until 1961, then as CD Cartagena until 1974 and since as Cartagena FC.

FC Cartagena was founded in 1995, originally as Cartagonova FC, in place of CD Balsicas, then the city's main team who made similar rookie mistakes to those Cartagena CF had made forty three years earlier.

To further confuse matters, Cartagena FC was the official reserve team of FC Cartagena between 2002 and 2009 but they all gave it up as a bad job because everyone had a headache by then. Enough. Back to the football.

Over the course of the last three weeks, we have attended the club's (FC Cartagena that is, not Cartagena FC) Estadio Municipal Cartagonova stadium to watch them play (then) top of the table Deportivo Alavés, (then) bottom of the table CD Leganés and, most recently, seventeenth in the table UD Ibiza, drawing one-one, losing one-two and winning two-nil respectively.

The Municipal Stadium, opened in 1988, is a mini-Camp Nou (home of FC Barcelona) in that it is a bowl of a stadium, largely uncovered, with a lower tier and a steep upper tier affording a great view of the pitch albeit with the downside for potential fatal falls. Unlike Camp Nou, it doesn't accommodate over ninety thousand spectators but with a capacity just in excess of fifteen thousand, it is a decent setting for second tier football and the eight or nine thousand fans who regularly turn up to generate a noisy and fanatical atmosphere. For all three games, we bought tickets (fifteen euros each) behind the goal at the north end of the stadium, close to the small but vociferous band of supporters who maintain a constant singing, chanting and banging of the drum throughout the whole ninety minutes. I don't know if this small band refer to themselves as Ultras but they should do because their support is fantastic. For night matches under the floodlights, the atmosphere is ramped up by the pre-match light show accompanied by the rousing Gary Glitter track Rock and Roll (Part 2). Clearly, nobody got the memo here about Mr Glitter.

The club appears to have a selection of nicknames, mainly arising from their black-and-white striped kit but they are best known as Efesé which chant regularly rises from the crowd. I tried to google the background to Efesé as I couldn't find any such word in my Spanish dictionaries and it came up with a long, convoluted tale of some old drunk from years back who was a supporter of the club which was a bit strange because the club hadn't been formed back then. Anyway, the google translation of this tale didn't make any sense to me so I consoled myself with chanting Efesé (think chanting the initials F S A and you're just about there) along with the rest of the crowd. Sadly, the old drunk story is more interesting than the reality which is that - for reasons best known to the fans - Efesé is how you pronounce the initials F C in Spanish, i.e. Efé for F and sé for C. That's a bit crap really, don't you think? 

To further confuse the issue here (and remember, Spanish football specialises in confusion and complexity), Cartagena FC (not FC Cartagena) have a sign outside their ground which translates to "the authentic Efesé". Whatever it means, both clubs lay claim to it and it does make for a good chant.

In the twenty third minute of all FC Cartagena home matches, the crowd breaks into applause to remember Miki Roqué, a young footballer who made thirty appearances for the club on loan from Liverpool during the 2008/9 season and who sadly died in 2012 from cancer. A reminder that life is precious.

The Spanish love their football and, as far as I can see, there are only two main differences between watching second tier football in Spain as compared to second tier football in the UK aside, that is, from Mr Glitter and the economical pricing and ease of entrance to the match itself. One, very few away fans attend matches and two, the whole affair is like a giant picnic. Giant, silver foil clad bocadillos (basically a sandwich made with a long baguette) are unwrapped and consumed with the greatest of ease, no mean feat considering that two of these big boys lasted Mrs C and I two whole days when we did our Camino earlier in the year. And for those that don't bring a picnic, the rest of them chew their way through bags of pipas (sunflower seeds), the eating of which involves removal and disposal of the outer shell to get to the seed. Some crack the shell between thumb and forefinger but the aficionados pop them into their mouth, crack the shell between their teeth then remove the seed with their tongue whilst spitting out the shell. All very lovely. Throughout the match, there is a discernible mishmash of noise emanating from the cracking, chewing and spitting out of pipas from around the ground.

The main challenge at the end of the match is to safely negotiate one's way to the exits down the steep terracing whilst wading through the piles of pipas shells.

The Deportivo Alavés and UD Ibiza games were both 9.00 p.m. kick-offs (Sunday night and Monday night respectively) whereas the CD Leganés game was a 2.00 p.m. Sunday afternoon kick-off. The cloudy and windy start to the day tricked me into wearing a pair of jeans for the CD Leganés match but of course, this being Spain, the sun eventually emerged and I spent much of the ninety minutes sweating my wotsits off whereas the Spanish were generally togged up in their long trousers and coats seemingly oblivious to the heat and happily tucking into their picnics and pipas. After the electric atmosphere of the previous Deportivo Alavés evening match, the Sunday afternoon suffered by comparison due to  unpleasantly tight, sweaty jeans plus ninety minutes of gamesmanship by CD Leganés that would have put many an English Premiership side to shame. It's always a mystery as to why only the team in the lead, with thirty five minutes to go, seems to be afflicted by collective cramp for the remaining thirty five minutes but I guess it's just one of those things. Anyway, across the three games the overall quality of football was good and whilst it is difficult to compare, I am going to do so anyway and suggest that the Spanish second tier is pretty much on a par, quality-wise, with English tier two and a half. Okay, English tier two and a half doesn't exist but I would define this as lower Championship, higher League One quality.

Unlike the English Championship and League One though which doesn't yet suffer the curse of VAR, I was surprised to discover that Spanish tier two football does make use of football's equivalent to killjoy. Right at the end of the CD Leganés match, FC Cartagena had an injury time equalizer ruled out when the referee was advised to go check the monitor a good five minutes after the ball hit the back of the net. Booooooooooo!

It may have taken us nearly two and a half years to properly get going with this Spanish football lark but we're liking it. Real Spain. Real football. Real beer. What's not to like?

El Camino de Santiago: Beers On The Way

Loved your blog today Dad. Made me laugh and cry. Walking five hundred miles across Spain certainly provided lots to laugh about but Day twenty seven brought a few tears as well.

The only good thing that came out of the first Covid19-related lockdown, as far as Graeme Cook was concerned, was his discovering the existence of El Camino de Santiago, known as The Way, an ancient pilgrimage route from the French Pyrenees to Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in the north west of Spain. Only recently unshackled from the world of working and for reasons he still doesn’t fully understand, he determined that this was a quest he must undertake and in the Spring of 2022 he and Mrs C set forth with rucksacks on their backs to see if they really could walk five hundred miles to the tomb of Saint James. 

Spoiler alert: They made it. And not least because they had their guiding principles to, err, guide them along the way. Beer is good for you being the main one. Graeme wrote a daily blog to keep friends and family up to date with their progress. The blog also began to attract interest from further afield. Encouraged by positive feedback such as that from Susan (USA) below, Graeme decided to try his hand at writing a book about the whole adventure.

Thanks for sharing your journey. I’m now on a quest to convince my husband that we can indeed do this. All your references to beer stops is helping! 

From having a near bust-up with Ernest Hemingway to meeting the invisible man, naked Germans, sophisticated Frenchmen, hunch-backed laboratory assistants, soppy knights, pizza-worshipping monks, the Camino family, the accommodation, the tears on Day twenty seven, the thrill of gazing up at Santiago Cathedral and of course a few beers along the way, it was the experience of a lifetime. 

Whether you have walked The Way yourself, are planning to walk it or simply interested to learn a little more about it, this book will provide an insight like no other. It will make you laugh. It might also make you cry. Amazon link

Day 36 - 28 May - O’Pedrouzo to Santiago de Compostela

As The Proclaimers famously sang:

And I would walk 500 miles                                

But I’m not sure I’d walk 500 more                      

It’s a bloody long way and my boots are knacked 

And the little pinky on my left foot is quite sore

Regular readers of this blog will, by now, be able to anticipate the next sentence. Alarm at six, on the road at half six, stopped for coffee yada yada. Sooooo predictable. Such is life on the road.

From O’Pedrouzo we had an initial four miles of (yada, yada) lovely woodland paths and countryside and a long, long uphill until we reached the perimeter of Santiago airport. Previously the walk past Burgos airport was tediously boring but apart from hearing a couple of planes, we never saw a thing of the airport and skirted around it via, initially, more woodland paths which eventually morphed into leafy villages until we peaked at Monte del Gozo from where we got our first view of the cathedral spires, still three miles away. Even the walk through the city outskirts was pleasant enough as we neared the historic part of the city housing the cathedral. The official Camino route brings you around the side of the cathedral, through an archway where you are bagpiped through and then into the huge square in front of the cathedral main entrance.

We had made it. Half past eleven in the morning. It was already very hot but as easy a twelve miles as we have had over the last five weeks. Our friend Michael from Switzerland was there to meet us and then we bumped into Lars and Inger - the three people with whom we have become closest over the course of our Camino. 

Then it was off to the Pilgrim’s office to collect our Compostelas, something of a two hour fanny about but we spent most of the waiting time sat in the shaded garden. To be honest it was nice to spend time doing nothing in the knowledge that we didn’t have any more miles in front of us, just a modest few hundred yards to our hotel where we have the next two nights booked. And it is lovely.

Next stop Zara. Yes, one of us was in need of some retail therapy. One of us waited in a nearby bar. 

We returned to the hotel via another bar and a tortilla bocadillo and enjoyed a rest before venturing out for the evening. We had an hour to kill before meeting up with Michael and a Michelin starred restaurant so we sat outside a bar close to our hotel where Peggy (USA) joined us for a drink. 

The fayre at our Michelin treat Casa Marcelo was described as “fusion cuisine in a moody setting” which sounds both pretentious and expensive but it proved to be a lovely way to end our Camino. In all likelihood we may never see Michael again but we have enjoyed his friendship immensely.

Tomorrow, we hope to meet up with other Camino friends who should be arriving in Santiago during the day but our Camino is over. We have loved it. Until the next one. Buen Camino!

Day 35 - 27 May - Arzua to O’Pedrouzo

As Andy Williams famously sang:

Almost there, we’re almost there
And soon we'll find
Our paradise, paradise so rare
Have a beer, a Camino beer
And close your eyes, for we're almost there

There was a sense of euphoria in the air today. Santiago tomorrow and a relatively easy walking day ahead of us today. And the sun was promising to be our companion all day long today.

We set off at six thirty five this morning, almost immediately bumping into Lars and Inger (Sweden) with whom we walked, on and off, throughout the morning. We like walking with them and we like walking just the two of us so the on and off worked well for all concerned. 

Our first coffee break at half past seven in the village of Pregontoño, sat in the garden of a bar as the early morning sun made its appearance from over the hill behind us. We walked on in the company of Lorraine (UK) with whom we have been seeing on the road over the last few days. All that chatting made me thirsty so, having linked up with Lars and Inger again, we stopped at a bar between Boavista and Salceda and I treated myself to a little beer. It was nearly ten o’clock after all.

After that it was heads down and beat the heat. The walking conditions underfoot continued to be kind and the anticipated ups and downs were nowhere near as hard as yesterday. And of course the Galician countryside continued to wow as it has done all week. We arrived in O’Pedrouzo at half past twelve and checked in to our very nice room at the weirdly named NOJA Rooms.

We were in no rush. After showering and washing sweaty socks and shirts, it was hunger that encouraged us out of the room. We found a nice looking place with huge gardens and huge tables. I went to the bar. No service at the bar. Garden service only. We sat at the end of an eight person bench where two guys were sat at the other end. Waiter runs over. “No sit there”. Why not? “Only one ticket per table”. Eh? So if one person, on their own, sits on an eight person bench, no one else can sit there. Even if that one person fancies a bit of company. Sounds pretty stupid to me. We moved to an empty eight person bench. We left five minutes later. I want a beer when I want a beer, not when some waiter decides he can be arsed to serve us.

We found a less attractive bar on the Pedrouzo main road. We had two beers in front of us in two minutes and we ordered food with the second round of beers. Delicious. Up yours trendy garden bar.

We then took a stroll and found another main road bar with seats in the shade. All this wanting to sit in the sun and after two minutes it had proven too hot to handle. Lars and Inger joined us. 

At the end of the day, we are of course on a pilgrimage so I especially wanted to see the local church. That’s just the kind of bloke I am. And where you find a church? Correct. You usually find a pub or (in Spain) a bar. And we found a little gem. The albergue Santaia en Casal de Calma had a garden as wonderful as the albergue name suggests. The four of us celebrated with a bottle each of the Estrella Camino de Santiago cerveza. And then we did it again. 

Eventually our Swedish friends decided that they needed to go find some food but we stayed put, preferring to remain on the Camino de Santiago because we’re diligent like that, even if Mrs C did eventually move on to the vino tinto.

And that’s how we spent our last night proper on the Camino. Tomorrow, with temperatures forecast to hit thirty two degrees by mid afternoon in Santiago, we will go with the early morning start again which should see us arrive at the Cathedral at or shortly after noon. For now, it’s bedtime. And we’re nearly there.

Day 34 - 26 May - Os Valos to Arzua

As Blood, Sweat and Tears famously sang:

What goes up must come down
Unless you’re in Galicia it’s the other way around
Your feet are having troubles
It's a cryin' sin
Ride a painted pony                                                     

Let the spinning wheel spin

Our early starts are becoming second nature to us by now. Six o’clock alarm. Up. Wash. Pack. Out. We hit the path at six forty five. It was misty and cold. I wasn’t expecting that. Anyway, by seven thirty we were enjoying a coffee and tostada in the town of Palas de Rei. Through the bar window, we saw Fran (UK) and Rosa (Canada) pass by on their way out of town and we were soon on our way too as we had a total near twenty mile day ahead of us.

As has been the case through Galicia, the pathways and roads made for comfortable walking conditions, aided by an initial freshness in the air once the sun broke through the mist. But, the whole eighteen miles between Palas de Rei and Arzua was all up and down. I think they must have re-written the rules of gravity here to read what comes down must go up again. 

The villages we pass through seem to get more quaint, more beautifully restored with less dereliction the nearer we get to Santiago. This has been quite marked since Sarria and you suspect that this busiest part of the Camino has allowed the local economies to flourish.

We passed through the villages of Carballal, San Xulian and Casanova before stopping at Bar Campanilla for another coffee and some cake, the ambience slightly tainted by the waft of the muck-spreading taking place a quarter of a mile down the road. Then on through Cornixa, Lobreiro and Desicabo before we passed through the town of Melide, By now it was beginning to get hot and the ups and downs were making me thirsty. We decided to stop at the first bar out of Melide which was a good decision in that Taberna de Parabispo was lovely. But it was another two miles of thirstyness. I could barely muster a smile by the time we found Harriet in the same bar.

From there we had another four and a half miles to go. Ninety minutes in theory but what with continued ups (far more ups than downs), water stops, navigation stops and fatigue, it took us nearly sixty minutes longer. La Puerta de Arzua, our accommodation for the night, was indeed a welcome sight.

Accommodation has been somewhat hit and miss over these last four and a bit weeks and we weren’t expecting a great deal from tonight’s choice but, as it transpired, it is all fairly new and our room was comfortable and spotlessly clean. However, with no food offering, we thought we should venture into the town of Arzua and explore. The kindly owner insisted on driving us into town and, as the miles passed, we were wondering how we could (eventually) walk back without picking up any blisters, now that we were sporting flip flops and crocs between us. All we really wanted to do was sit in the sunshine but he took us into a bar, introduced us to the bar staff, then left. All well and good but they had no outside seating. Anyway we consoled ourselves with a bottle each of Estrella’s Camino del Santiago beer which is the tastiest beer we have had these last few weeks. Thereafter we determined that we should undertake a slow bar crawl home - to protect our feet obviously.

Bar no. 1 we saw Fran and Angela and sat with them discussing how tough today’s ups and downs had been. Bar no. 2 - we were back at base! The three mile drive into town hadn’t even been a mile. That’s what four and a bit weeks walking does for you. We were clueless.

Base actually meant the bar next door to our accommodation. We ate, drank beer and wine whilst sat in the sun. Okay, it was pretty much roadside and the nice views were behind us but we sat in the sun. At nine o’clock we called it a night and retired to our nice, comfortable, clean room. 

In my mind, tomorrow is our last proper day walking before Santiago and, having checked the guide, we have another day of ups and downs then more ups. Ahh sod it, let that spinning wheel spin.

Day 33 - 25 May - Portomarin to Os Valos

As John Denver famously sang:

You fill up my senses
Like a walk in a forest
Like the mountains in springtime
But leave out the rain
Just a little more sun please
On a walk in Galicia
You fill up my senses
Come fill me again

Galicia is very green. Very green doesn’t actually do it justice. It is green like England’s green and pleasant land. Like the green, green grass of home. Like little green apples. Like green onions. Greensleeves. Shakey’s green door. You get the picture.

We were up and at ‘em early today. With our accommodation being a mile and a half off route, we opted to set off at six thirty to get back on track, at Portomarin, by seven. Having done so we had a quick coffee before setting off on the route proper. Not having checked the guide book in any detail, the steep ascent out of town caught us a bit by surprise. The rate of ascent lessened but basically the first nine miles was uphill, climbing nearly four hundred metres. 

We stopped for coffee at an albergue in Gonzar, about half way up, then a refreshing beer at the wonderfully named Casa Molar at Ventos de Naron near the top. 

For the third day running, we are on easy paths with amazing views. The one welcome difference today though being that the sun was shining for much of the way through our fifteen miles but with a cooling breeze. Just perfect.

The Way is noticeably busier now, with lots more Spanish having joined from Sarria, particularly young people which is great to see and has brought about a welcome increase in the number of perfectly shaped bottoms in front of me. The greater numbers have added to a general air of excitement as we get closer to Santiago. In fact I was so excited that I had another beer in the garden at Casa Mariluz in Lagonde.

Further on it was lovely to catch up with Harriet (UK) who we haven’t seen in the last three weeks.

After last night’s disappointing choice of accommodation, we were keeping fingers crossed that we had chosen more wisely today, particularly with the prospect of some afternoon sunshine. This time we were not disappointed. Praise the lord. Let’s have a beer.

A little frustratingly though, the sunshine kept losing out to the clouds for most of the afternoon and early evening but we persevered, practicing for the next three days when the forecast is for wall-to-wall sunshine and decent temperatures. And by the end of Day three, good fortune permitting, that should be it; walk over. But in the meantime, we have another forty five miles to go in the wonderful green land that is Galicia. I can’t wait.

Day 32 - 24 May - Sarria to Portomarin

As John Denver famously sang:

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, home of Marsha
Take me home, country roads

The six o’clock alarm awoke me from my slumbers. The four-bedroom, nine-bed apartment in Sarria had proven very comfortable and my first challenge was to ascertain in which of the beds Mrs C had elected to go for. I am of course joking. She was on the sofa. 

We departed our accommodation a fraction before seven and tracked back into town to pick up the official Camino route out of town. It appears I may owe Sarria an apology. The old town of Sarria, with its bars, cafes and albergues looked both quaint and atmospheric but had we stumbled upon it last night, my imaginary duet with Marsha Osmond would never have happened so I’m not unhappy.

The walk out of Sarria was lovely. It was like being at home and, for those of you who don’t know Burnley, no I’m not joking. This was the English countryside at its best, with English temperatures and cloudy skies but thankfully no rain. In Spain.

A short, steep bit gave way to a more gentle incline as we passed through the tiny villages of Vilei, Barbadelo and Rente before we reached Baxan where we stopped for a coffee and napolitana. And there was soon-to-be junior doctor Fran with her friend Beth and Beth’s mum Angela. Neither we nor Fran have seen our German friend Gerhard for a few days. We hope his bad foot hasn’t dropped off yet.

The walking conditions were perfect. Comfortable underfoot path and road surfaces, beautiful scenery and cool temperatures. And friends to walk with! We caught up with Lars and Inger from Sweden and ended up walking with them all the way in to Portomarin. Together, we passed through the villages of A Pena, Cortiñas, Baxan (another one) and Ferreiros before we stopped for a beer at a great little albergue at Mercadoiro. 

I let Lars and Inger in on our find from yesterday, namely dancing down steep bits. The theory is proven! Lars couldn’t even dance before today but he sure can dance downhill. I have no idea how to post the video proof on here but I can put it on Twatter if anyone wants to see it. If you do want to see it then leave a message to this effect at the bottom of this post.

To be fair, that may be easier said than done because I still have no idea how to post a message on my own blog but Nellie from West Virginia, USA knows how to do it. Hey Nellie. Thanks for your message. And by the way, the Camino is full of your fellow countrymen and women and every one of them that we have met is lovely, especially Marsha.

By now we only had a couple of miles to Portomarin but in the village of Vilacha, we met Xulian (think Julian with an X) who was putting up beer mats on his recently purchased donativo. Previously known as Casa Susana, the site was featured on the BBC’s Pilgrimage programme where “celebrities” ponced about pretending that they were walking the full five hundred miles. Anyway, as much as I dislike the concept of “celebrity”, Xulian isn’t a celebrity and I did like him because he’s a member of CAMRA and he likes his real ales so I hope he can make a success (or whatever it is he wants to make) out of Casa Xulian.

Thereafter, we walked to the entrance of Portomarin from where we phoned our hotel, Hostal Meson do Loyo who being two miles out of town had promised to pick us up. It wasn’t a limo but nonetheless we were on our way to the hotel within ten minutes of the call. Today’s fourteen miles had been the easiest day’s walking thus far and we were at our hotel before two o’clock which meant we had the whole afternoon to sit in the sun and relax. Except there was no sun. And it was a bit chilly. We spent the whole afternoon in the bar.

The hostal accommodation was no more than adequate, there was a bit of a smell of drains from time to time and it nearly had a great view but not quite. The staff were nice and friendly though and the entrecot steak I had was the size of a brick and cooked to perfection.

Also, we had time to sort out our journey-home logistics and all hotel requirements in-between. And of course we had a few beers. We also made some new friends, Louis and  Corine from Holland who are cycling to Santiago.

We are due to arrive in Santiago on Saturday. We will have a couple of nights there and then it’s a train and bus to Porto in Portugal from where we will fly home on the 1st of June. Suddenly this five hundred mile adventure is nearing its end and whilst I have loved every minute of it so far, I am missing my girlies so I’m looking forward to getting home. In the meantime though, we still have around sixty miles left to get to Santiago. Country roads, take me home.