We made it to Leon, which interestingly is NOT named after the Spanish word lion, but after the word Legion. The Roman army had a large legion here a very, very long time ago, and although the Romans left, the name stuck around. We heard in the previous town that Leon was going to hold their Festival of San Froilán. I had no idea who San Froilán was, but I did know what festival meant, and I was more than excited to celebrate him. The problem was that even though it was only 20 km away, we are walking and we wouldn’t be able to make it in time. So for the first time in 30 days we got a taxi. Claire and I must have looked like Laura Ingles, giggling and wide eyed at this new horseless carriage on our way to a festival! Charlotte was annoyed that we weren’t walking, she felt like we were cheating. I was so excited about the car and the festival that I hastily said, “hey don’t worry, we can walk those 20km after the festival, hey look at all the pretty flowers!”
Fact #1: The Spanish love their fall festivals
Fact #2: They should because they are awesome.
We were told by the locals that prior to the Reconquest the Leones were required to give the ruling class Moors, 100 of their maidens every year. Saint Froilán put a stop to that business, and they have been celebrating him ever since. Apparently they do this by marching 100 young ladies through the streets, but then they let them go home, instead of to their rape and death.
Fact #3: Spanish have rather dark reasons for festivals
The celebration continues with the almost 200 localities around Leon marching 20-40 foot flags through the streets. They wear their traditional clothing, bring their bagpipes and their dancing shoes. Each town trying to out tradition the next. It was everything that I could have imagined in a Spanish festival.
The processional was all in front of their magnificent cathedral. And yes, I made my daughters go stand on the other side of the parade so that I could get a shot of the flags, the cathedral, and them.
From the dancing to the traditional Morcilla (black sausage), to the parade of the donkey carts we all loved every minute of it.
And the people, so many people, as all of Spain comes out for their festivals. Jake loves crowds- it’s his favorite.
But then the next day it happened. Charlotte reminded us that we needed to go back and finish the 20 km that we had skipped before Leon. First, we all pretended to not hear her. Then, we tried the whole, “well a pilgrims journey is about the experiences and not the actual kilometers”. And I’m not proud of this, but I even mentioned that I promised not to tell anyone if that is what all this going back mess was about. You know, lie about our Christian pilgrimage. Claire even tried chocolate. But in the end, there we were, in the taxi, going backward on the Camino. Back to the previous town, so that we could walk the WHOLE way. It was by far one of the hardest days I have ever experienced, but also one of the best as a mom.
I realized I was raising a daughter who refuses to take shortcuts and has the grit to finish the hard. Even when no one is watching, or would care at all if she missed 20km. And by no one, I mean no one, you get your Camino credentials if you just walk the last 100 km. So if she skipped this section, the pope wouldn’t care, Saint James wouldn’t care, and I know her Grandmas don’t care. But she cared, and that was enough. One of our goals for walking the Camino was to teach our kids that they can do hard things. Not just hard things physically, but also the real hard things like doing the right thing for you, when the group you are with is pushing you to do the other. Doing the right thing when no one else would care or know. Integrity is harder than climbing mountains.
Fact #4: Our kids can do hard things.
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