EL NORTE IN SONG  PART #3 - 
HELLO, SPANISH LOVE

Meeting and bonding with other pilgrims is one of the most wonderful experiences of any camino. Unfortunately, bonds get quickly severed as caminos end. It hurts...

This thought no doubt weighted heavily in my heart when I sat down to write this song. It was written for a specific person, one I had promised to meet in three days after we had went our separate ways. It was the only instance on El Norte that I had arranged to meet someone later.

She left after we made the promise, and I wandered into town to buy coffee. When I returned to the rather idyllic Tapia de Casariego albergue, I took out pen and paper, drank 3 cups and the song was done. It just poured out like I had it all figured out beforehand when,truthfully, I had no idea what I was going to write when I sat down. The music, despite 12 different chords, came just as easily.

Three days later, we met in Gontan, as planned. I sang the song for her on a bench in front of the municipal albergue:

You were sleeping in the rain
in Santillana Del Mar
You pierced my world of darkness
Like a diamond, like a star
    Hello, Spanish Love
    Let's raise a glass and celebrate the day
    Even though we know tomorrow
    Spanish Love slips away

Spanish Love steps softly
Sometimes it comes too late
Spanish Love is like magic
It’s nothing you could create
    Hello, Spanish Love
    Let's raise a glass and celebrate the day
    Even though we know tomorrow
    Spanish Love slips away

When we’re apart
Don’t let the dark change you
Keep smiling

    Hola, fugaz amor
    Brindemos por este dia
    No importa el mañana
    Fugaz amor no volveras

You were sleeping in the rain
in Santillana Del Mar
You pierced my world of darkness
Like a diamond, like a star
    Hello, Spanish Love
    Let's raise a glass and celebrate the day
    Even though we know tomorrow
    Spanish Love slips away

I felt somewhat awkward presenting a love song but she didn't seem to mind. It was nice to see her smile and laugh at a couple of lines that she knew could only refer to her.

She and I had many wonderful  times together, my favourite being a midnight 3k walk, all downhill, into a scenic ocean front fishing village which looked more like an abandoned Hollywod set than a place where real people worked and lived. It was eerie, romantic, completely surreal and utterly breathtaking.

It was one of those nights I would relive in a heartbeat and, given the choice, I would relive it with her.

EL NORTE IN SONG #2 -
BIG MAX, INDY AND THE PREACHER FROM WYOMING

I wrote this a few months after returning from El Norte. It was inspired by events in Larrabetzu, just outside of Bilbao, where three of us, Max, Aubrey (aka "Indy") and myself had stopped for a few beverages. Following Max, a local Spaniard, we patronized three bars, happily drinking San Miguels and vino tinto in the warm, late afternoon sun. Venturing inside at stop #2, I met a man who told me he was from Wyoming and further, that he was a preacher. Right--don't think so. Hearing the news, Aubrey, an American, soon rushed in to meet her fellow countryman. She, too, returned unconvinced.
Not sure what his game was really but, besides drinking, perhaps this fellow just spent much of his time watching American or, more likely, spaghetti westerns, somehow adopting the persona of a 19th century man of faith in the process.....and perhaps that is why the cinema goes like this:


The preacher from Wyoming was drop dead drunk and lonely
No friends, just his bible and booze
Clingin' to the bar, craving Indy's heart,
her red lips and patent leather shoes
With nothing much to lose, the preacher made his move
he dripped, drooled and staggered cross the room
While Indy twirled her hair by the blood stained broken stairs
her six gun tight against her womb

When Indy's trigger clicked, Big Max he acted quick
contentious confusion swept the bar
The preacher kept a comin', the singer kept a strummin'
Indy bit down hard on her cigar
Old Henry killed the lights-too late to stop the fight
someone threw a lantern through the door
and before the smoke had cleared, the preacher disappeared
with Big Max down and dying on the floor

When the morning came the sheriff tried to blame
Indy, but he couldn't prove a thing
"This gun was never fired !", screamed her lover, the retired
and married Justice of the Peace
then Peg the toothless teacher claimed she saw the preacher
sneaking down the alley ditching clues
With Indy by his side, pumped up with self pride
just strutting in her bloody leather shoes

When Max was blessed an buried, the ritual turned scary
Old Henry had a massive heart attack
and the Justice of the Peace he came on to his niece
in the filthy cemetery shack
The townsfolk lynched the preacher while Peg the toothless teacher
wiped the singer's tears from his guitar
And no one could see Indy, but when it wasn't windy
I swear I smelled the smoke from her cigar

Tho' Indy's in Alaska, before she split Peg asked her
to swear that she never did the crime
'cause the Justice of the Peace he, didn't get off easy
and now he's in the bighouse servin' time
On any dark and clear night, go outside and you might
see the ghost of Max drift by Deadman's Point
if you'd rather do some drinkin', the singer's still there singin'
the same old songs--same old stinking joint


Now, for the record, other than the names, the representation of the protagonists is entirely imagined and bears no intended relation to any living persons.

Still, I have no doubt that the real Max is a fine gentleman and would earnestly defend a damsel in distress.
And, he is alive and well : in fact, we reunited in Bilbao when I visited Carmen (EL NORTE IN SONG #1 - CARMEN BY THE SEA) at the end of El Norte.

And "Indy", truly bears no resemblance to Aubrey, the latter being a fun loving ,gentle, kind, and  very compassionate woman, and moreover, not a big fan of personal firearms.

It was a pleasure to spend a few short, but memorable days with these two wonderful pilgrims. I am more than pleased that our friendship remains ongoing....in fact, that's the best part.

STORM IN MUXIA

Planning on recording this personal favourite whenever mother nature stops cancelling every session I book--actually, I suppose it's delightfully ironic in a way..


I’m frightened by the storm in Muxia
I feel you in the wind but I can’t see ya
Is that you over there in your Alvaiazere chair
or is it just a rocking stone on the shoreline?

Dark churning skies bring panic, pain and cold
My hands and feet are frozen to the bone
I call out loud and clear, but there’s no one left to hear
for the pilgrims are returning to the Camino

Behold a women singing in the tempest!
In her hand she holds the magic comb of gold
She wears a crown and jewelled dress, and yes, I know the rest
She’s not a princess or a lover, she’s just a killer

Her flaming hair is burning up the dark night
Her narcotic diamond voice leaves me breathless
I offer wine and bread, she takes my heart instead
That’s just the price for her beauty and her treasure

But I can not choose to turn down this seduction
or the miracle of honesty in her shelter
So I’ll spend my very last breath, with her on the Coast of Death
Go ahead - judge me one more time, if you remember

I’m frightened by the storm in Muxia
I feel you in the wind but I can’t see ya
Is that you over there in your Alvaiazere chair
Or is it just a rocking stone on the shoreline?

UPDATE-- Song  recorded Feb.16, 2014.