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Era un triste día de invierno, un día de niebla. De lejos pude distinguir entre la bruma, la silueta de un jinete, su montura y un perro. Los tres avanzando lento pero con paso firme hacia el albergue. Era como estar viendo la película " Desperado" de Antonio Banderas con esas imáxenes a cámara lenta.
La medida que se acercaban observé el atuendo que portaba este chico, el arqueadas que tenía las piernas y el ponerte esbelto de aquel caballo. Por suerte para ellos, en aquella época el albergue estaba situado en el centro de un parque, un lugar ideal para llevar tu equino
Cada vez que miraba a aquel peregrino más gracioso me parecía su aspecto. Sus ropas me recordaban al traje típico folclórico gallego o portugués. Era peculiar, como un gaitero. Negro sobre blanco. Sombrero negro. Camisa blanca sin cuello, chaleco negro y chaqueta corta, negra, con orlas, muchos bolsillos y grandes botones en las mangas, ambos de pana. El pantalón era como aquellos de los años 70, ceñidos en los muslos y acampanados al final.
A decir verdad, me tenía completamente desconcertado el origen de este peregrino. Era el primero que veía con ese traje y me llenó de curiosidad. Siempre me gusta adivinar cosas de la gente, observando sus caras, sus gestos y sus ropas. La base de practicar, como todo en la vida, llegas a tener cierta destreza adivinando cosas como su oficio, la orixen, el estado civil, etc, en este caso, en descifrar el origen de las personas, pero con este hombre, salvo el idioma que desveló su origen germano no acertaba a relacionar el del traje.
El primero que hizo este chico fue a atender a su caballo. Libérouno de todo peso y de un saco de pienso que portaba en sus alforjas, dio alimento a aquel precioso cabaliño de larga melena. Después dio de beber a su perro. Luego sacó un cepillo y mientras charlábamos cepillou la larga y brillante melena de su pony. Era de patas cortas pero fuertes, como el Asturcón, un pequeño caballo asturiano de montaña muy fuerte de pata.
Después de saber que venían andando o cabalgando mejor dicho desde Alemania comprendí porque tenía las piernas arqueadas como Lucky Luke, pero seguía sin saber porque iba vestido de esa guisa.
Como siempre, me gusta dejar las preguntas para después de almorzar o cenar. Cuando un peregrino tiene saciadas sus necesidades es cuando puedes establecer una conversación que en este caso giró alrededor de su persona, sus aventuras, su caballo, su perro y como no, su traje. Yo no me iba para la cama sin saber más sobre su traje.
La verdad es que me sorprendió saber su significado . En Alemania ser carpintero es más que una profesión. Era el traje típico de un carpintero alemán. Su atuendo era llamativo y por donde pasaba no dejaba indiferente a ninguen.
Se asocian para mantener unidos a los del gremio. Los compartimentos de sus chaquetas y pantalones son para llevar las herramientas.
Son conocidos como wandergesellen, o trabajadores itinerantes que después de rematar su capacitación en diversos oficios, viajan para acumular experiencia desempeñando su oficio a cambio de comida, y alojamiento y nuestro querido peregrino era un wandergesellen y mira ti por dónde , el albergue era una cabaña de madera que precisaba algunos ajustes.
Aquella noche el hombre estaba preocupado por si le robaban el caballo por el que decidimos atarlo junto a la ventana que daba a su cama. Cuando se fue por la mañana vine cómo su figura se desvanecía entre la niebla con sus piernas arqueadas. Un trio singular.
It was a dreary winter day, a foggy day. From afar, I could make out, through the mist, the silhouette of a rider, his horse, and a dog. The three of them were moving slowly but steadily toward the hostel. It was like watching the film "Desperado" with Antonio Banderas, with those slow-motion shots.
As they drew closer, I observed the young man's attire, the way his legs were bowed, and the horse's slender gait. Luckily for them, at that time the hostel was located in the middle of a park, an ideal place to take your horse.
The more I looked at that pilgrim, the more comical he seemed. His clothes reminded me of traditional Galician or Portuguese folk costumes. He was peculiar, like a bagpiper. Black on white. Black hat. Collarless white shirt, black vest, and a short, black corduroy jacket with trim, many pockets, and large buttons on the sleeves. The trousers were like those from the 70s, tight in the thighs and flared at the bottom.
To tell the truth, I was completely baffled by this pilgrim's origins. He was the first person I'd ever seen wearing that outfit, and it piqued my curiosity. I always enjoy guessing things about people by observing their faces, their gestures, and their clothes. With practice, as with everything in life, you develop a certain skill in guessing things like their profession, their origin, their marital status, etc.—in this case, in deciphering people's origins. But with this man, apart from the language, which revealed his Germanic origin, I couldn't quite connect it to the origin of his clothing.
As they drew closer, I observed the young man's attire, the way his legs were bowed, and the horse's slender gait. Luckily for them, at that time the hostel was located in the middle of a park, an ideal place to take your horse.
The more I looked at that pilgrim, the more comical he seemed. His clothes reminded me of traditional Galician or Portuguese folk costumes. He was peculiar, like a bagpiper. Black on white. Black hat. Collarless white shirt, black vest, and a short, black corduroy jacket with trim, many pockets, and large buttons on the sleeves. The trousers were like those from the 70s, tight in the thighs and flared at the bottom.
To tell the truth, I was completely baffled by this pilgrim's origins. He was the first person I'd ever seen wearing that outfit, and it piqued my curiosity. I always enjoy guessing things about people by observing their faces, their gestures, and their clothes. With practice, as with everything in life, you develop a certain skill in guessing things like their profession, their origin, their marital status, etc.—in this case, in deciphering people's origins. But with this man, apart from the language, which revealed his Germanic origin, I couldn't quite connect it to the origin of his clothing.
The first thing this young man did was tend to his horse. He relieved it of all its weight and, from a sack of feed he carried in his saddlebags, gave food to that beautiful little horse with the long mane. Then he gave his dog water. Next, he took out a brush and, while we chatted, brushed his pony's long, shiny mane. It had short but strong legs, like the Asturcón, a small Asturian mountain horse with very strong legs.
After learning that they had come on foot, or rather, on horseback, from Germany, I understood why his legs were bowed like Lucky Luke's, but I still didn't know why he was dressed like that.
As always, I like to leave the questions until after lunch or dinner. When a pilgrim's needs are met, that's when you can have a conversation, which in this case revolved around him, his adventures, his horse, his dog, and, of course, his outfit. I wasn't going to bed without knowing more about his attire.
The truth is, I was surprised to learn its meaning. In Germany, being a carpenter is more than just a profession. This was the typical attire of a German carpenter. His outfit was striking, and wherever he went, he turned heads.
They form associations to keep the guild united. The compartments in their jackets and trousers are for carrying tools.
They are known as Wandergesellen, or itinerant workers, who, after completing their training in various trades, travel to gain experience practicing their craft in exchange for food and lodging. Our dear pilgrim was a Wandergesellen, and wouldn't you know it, the lodging was a wooden cabin that needed some repairs.
That night, the man was worried that his horse would be stolen, so we decided to tie it up by the window overlooking his bed. When he left in the morning, I saw his figure vanish into the mist, his legs bowed. A peculiar trio.