Pilgrimage of Gratitude: My Camino

Following the Yellow Arrows

2011-08-10T11:14:00.002-06:00

Following the Yellow Arrows*

At last night’s meeting of the writer’s guild someone tossed off a remark to me. The off-hand comment was a little like a sprinkling of fresh, cool water on seeds still warming in the dark, dank earth.

I stopped in my tracks. The idea was perfect. I could never have thought of it on my own! The casual suggestion mirrored thoughts I had been having, but took my ideas one step further.

I sat silently, taking a moment to absorb the synchronicity of this event. I took another moment to say a quick prayer of gratitude to God, and then moved on with the business at hand.

I felt buoyant when I left that meeting and now I am eager to move forward on this fledgling project. I can clearly see the direction I need to go in order to move forward.

The remark was unexpected, but grabbed my attention and seemed as bold and bright as any of the many yellow arrows (flechas amarillo*) I followed on my almost-1000K pilgrimage-walk across northern Spain.

On the Camino, I travelled for 40 days with a minimum of things in my backpack – a map was not among my belongings. I knew I could follow the yellow arrows that served to mark the path to Santiago de Compostela. For me, walking this pilgrimage was about trust and faith. There were days when I walked and walked and walked, never seeing a yellow arrow, or even another pilgrim. I would almost give up hope. I would feel a small panic (OK, maybe a large panic!), thinking that I had missed a turn or failed to see one of the arrows. But I would calm my panic, re-commit, and simply move forward with grace and faith, like a sheep, following my shepherd.

Surrounded by chattering pilgrims, or pilgrims who used GPS (global positioning systems) to navigate or others who had designed elaborate schemes for their journey, it would have been easy to be caught up in the planning and implementing, the business of the journey. It would be easy to be distracted or take short-cuts or even to ignore the humble yellow arrows. And there were days when I did share my walk with other pilgrims. But ultimately, I preferred to without that human need to orchestrate and say “what if…?” and to plan for every contingency. It is humbling and takes character. (Did I mention that my MA is in Organizational Management and I am a Virgo and career military – all of which makes me vulnerable to having plans, strategies, etc…this pilgrimage represented quite a leap of faith for me!)

My Camino was about trust in something bigger than myself. It was about listening for that still, small voice and being attentive to those yellow arrows. I wanted to move forward in faith.

I know that sometimes “what is essential is invisible to the eye,” (The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry). Love is certainly an essential we cannot see. And so is faith. That is what faith is all about – faith does not demand proof. Faith demands a willingness to be humble, to listen and accept. The path unfolds in unexpected ways and it is my job to simply trust and move forward, with thanksgiving and joy.

So at the meeting last night, that unexpected, off-hand remark represented a lovely yellow arrow pointing to a grand vista ahead! Today, I am moving forward on that project; step-by-step I am getting closer to my destination.

Buen Camino Peregrino! (Our Camino NEVER ends!)
_________________________________________
*Flechas amarillo, or yellow arrows mark the various ancient pilgrimage routes on the Camino to Santiago de Compostela in northern Spain. (It is often called the Way of St. James.) At the risk of sounding irreverent: following the yellow arrows over the mountains and through the woods and cities I felt much like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz when she was told to just “follow the yellow brick road!”

Who Rescued Whom?

2011-07-14T13:58:00.004-06:00

Thursday, 14 July 2011

Today at a local consignment shop, I was happily chatting away with the woman who runs the place. Since I am usually such a shy, quiet person, that may come as a surprise to you (or not). The conversation centered around my Miss Zia-Maria (my three-legged rescue dog who is the heart-of-my-heart these days).

The woman asked me how old she was and (typical of my communication style) I gave her the long answer. "Let's see, we got her just after we returned to the USA fro our Peace Corps Ukraine adventures. That was in 2007. She was about a year old then and had just recovered from having her leg amputated several months before.” I said, babbling along in my usual fashion.

The conversation moved on to what it is like to have a three-legged dog. This is typical.
When people see me with my three-legged dog, they often say something like, "How wonderful of you to take her in."

What is that all about? She's just missing a leg. It is not as if she has major issues to deal with. She is not handicapped in the least by missing that limb. In fact the word “missing” is inappropriate in that sentence - I don't think Zia even knows her leg is gone!

But walking a three legged dog does require some skill. At least if you are walking my three-legged dog. It is the rear left leg that is missing and what that means is that she tends to lope along rather than to actually walk. It is easier on her hips if she can get up some momentum and let gravity help her move forward. What that means for me is that I am trailing along behind her, moving just short of a run myself.

We make quite a picture I’m sure. My own left arm extends straight out in front of me and I have to move along at a rapid pace, trying to keep up, sweat rolling down my forehead and into my eyes. Trying to keep my dignity is about all I can do.

I am sure the locals do think we are a bit eccentric. I live in a mill village and most people around here just don’t take their dogs walking. So there I am, my long locks (below my waist now) flying out behind me as I move quickly behind my dog who seems to think she is the lead dog in a team running at the Iditarod. Miss Zia typically wears a bandana and often, despite the heat and humidity, she sports a Thundershirt (to help her with her anxieties about some dogs, balls and other assorted moving objects) so we do make quite a picture when I take her out for her morning walks.

"There's that crazy old, grey-haired, over-the-hill hippie-woman trailing behind that skinny, three-legged, red dog again," says the neighbor lady as she peers out from behind the curtains. “And the dog is wearing clothes!” People stop what they are doing when we race by.

I spend lots of time flying down the street behind my spunky pup. I’m very grateful Miss Zia came into my life, but it occurred to me today she gave me some gifts I never have really acknowledged. With her left rear leg amputated, she is the one who would seem to have special needs, but it was actually me who needed some rehabilitation.

In 2005, I lost my left breast to cancer. The reconstructive surgery involved cutting muscles from my back and ended up leaving me unexpectedly rather helpless. I had a hard time using my left arm to even get up out of a chair. Months and months after the surgery, even trying to turn over in bed was a logistical challenge. I could not lift things nor carry much of anything. For a woman who used to make her living toting heavy tool boxes and tech data out to repair radar systems on fighter aircraft, this was all very humbling! Even a year after the surgery, I couldn't carry my laptop bag on my left shoulder for more than a short walk.

So in 2007 when the exuberant, rambunctious Miss Zia-Maria danced into my life, I had an opportunity to grow stronger. I had an obligation to grow stronger. She needed me to take her on daily walks. Her way of walking challenged me, but it also helped me grow strong. Miss Zia also helped me re-gain my confidence and my independence. She helped me feel whole again. Who is helping who here?

In 2008, I decided I wanted to walk the Camino (about a 1000K walk across a couple mountain ranges in northern Spain); I knew I would need to carry a backpack. I knew I would need to train. So Miss Zia became my coach and motivator. She made sure that I took twice-daily walks across the high desert around Santa Fe (which is where we called home during the first three years post Peace Corps.). I would load my pack with gallon jugs of water and we would tramp at her frenzied pace for miles and miles. Without her, I would never have been able to undertake my Camino. I had to leave her home with Man while I spend 40 days making that pilgrimage of gratitude, but without Miss Zia’s help, I probably would never have had that life-enhancing experience.

We all learn lessons in life...if we are paying attention. Sometimes we do not even realize who is teaching us those lessons. My delightful three-legged friend taught me how to just get moving...the momentum will keep you going. And that is how you take a walk of 1000 kilometers: one step at a time. And she has taught me a lot about what it means to have heart and to share joy. I am lucky (and grateful) she came into my life.

Standing in that consignment store having an animated conversation with dog-loving strangers, I realized that I am one lucky human. I sure am glad Miss Zia was there to rescue me.

My Camino, my pilgrimage of Gratitude, continues in unexpected ways. Life is good.

My Walk in 2010

2010-09-28T10:20:00.011-06:00

In 2009, I walked the Camino. It was, a pilrimage of gratitude, a walk of joy, a time to reflect on a life well-lived. It was a prayer of hope and a journey of peace and a pathway to renewal.

My Camino continues and as always, there are stones in my path, challenges to face and opportunities to be patient and humble. The Camino was and is so much more. It was (and is) a gift to myself.

This year I am celebrating 5 years as a breast cancer survivor. Not everyone survives.

This year, I am making a gift to that community, a gift to those who suffer from breast cancer. This year I am making another walk. As part of my celebration of life, my daughter and I will be in Charlotte, NC on October 23-24th to walk a marathon and a half (that’s 39 miles!) in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. I am honored and humbled to be among the thousands of others who will walk with us as part of a commitment to end breast cancer. I will walk on behalf of those who are no longer with us, those who cannot walk, those who cannot celebrate the gift of life.

Five years ago I was medivaced out of my Peace Corps Ukraine site and underwent three major surgeries in three short weeks. My dream of serving in Peace Corps was crushed; my body was ravaged; and I still have the scars of my personal battle. But I got off easy. Many of our sisters, grandmothers, mothers, wives, daughters and best friends die of this insidious disease. Families are destroyed. Lives are ruined. Dreams evaporate. Tears fall.

Did you know that breast cancer kills approximately one woman every 13 minutes (Someone’s dying as I write this e-mail.). One in eight women will develop breast cancer. Breast cancer is the second leading cause of death for women right now, and the leading cause of death in women between the ages of 40 and 55. Every woman is at risk, because we don’t know how to prevent it. There’s no escaping it, each of us will be touched by the effects of breast cancer.

The Avon Foundation is doing something about it, but it takes money. I’ve pledged to raise $1,800. If you would like to help me in my fight against breast cancer, please visit my webpage: www.avonwalk.org/goto/Virginia.Pulver.Walk (or go to www.avonwalk.org and click on Charlotte - then type in my name). You can also access my fundraising site from my Facebook profile: look at the tab on the top of my profile page. It is soooo easy to make an online donation, but you can just snail-mail a check if that’s easier for YOU. Make it out to “Avon Walk for Breast Cancer” and mail it off to me at 3355 Governor Miles Road, Santa Fe, NM 87507. I will mail you an official receipt.

If you’d like me to walk in honor/memory of anyone close to you who has battled breast cancer, please drop a note along with your pledge. I will write that person’s name on a ribbon and pin it to my pack so others can read their names and we can honor their memory as we walk and talk and share.

One of the things I discovered as I went through my own cancer experience is that I am blessed with an amazing circle of friends and family. The love and support was so unexpected. Something else that was unexpected was the wealth of stories people shared with me and continue to share with me. Once I mention that I am a survivor, the dam breaks and a flood of stories pour out. There is so much pain, so much sadness…let’s change that. Let’s change the story…let’s celebrate instead of commiserate. Let’s write a happy ending! Let’s end breast cancer.

Life is good…and we each have the power to make it better. Thank you for the good you do in this world.

Sincerely,

Virginia J. Pulver
vjpulver@pulverpages.com

P.S.
My sweet spouse will be working behind the scenes as part of the crew that makes the Charlotte Avon Walk for Breast Cancer a success. He won’t be camping with the walkers, sleeping in a tent or making the 39 mile walk, but I bet he will come home with wonderful stories of courage and love. Being face to face with so many people who have been touched by breast cancer will be amazing and cathartic for us all.

If You Can't Say Something Nice...

2010-03-22T18:55:00.002-06:00

"For twenty-three years I've been dying to tell you what I thought of you! And now... well, being a Christian woman, I can't say it!" -- Auntie Em; Wizard of Oz

If you cannot say something nice, then say nothing at all. My mother used that phrase quite often and I know from experience that it is excellent advice. I have been thinking about that phrase a lot during the past few weeks.

I recently received a certified letter asking (demanding) me to retract my 10 May, 2009 blog post.

The individual who sent the request is not happy with the way I depicted my experience.

My narrative is representative of my experience. And I was not the only one who felt bullied and ill-treated that night. Other pilgrims who shared accommodations with me that night were equally angered and bitter about their experiences. Several times in the next few weeks I would cross paths with two fellow pilgrims (one a Canadian minister and the other a grieving woman from the USA) and listen as they vented and raged about their experience.

I truly believe the hostess was totally oblivious to how uncomfortable she was making here boarders feel (though when you make people weep, that is usually a clue that one has pushed the limits of civility.)

Part of me is inclined to simply remove my earlier comments. Let it go. Take the high road. Do not get down on her level. Consider her intentions.

I guess I could tone down my comments a bit or even rescind them, but the more I think about it the more manipulated I feel.

Sigh.

I am still struggling with this.

Despite it all, I am grateful I stopped there. The museum is beautiful. And I learned a few things about human nature.

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-23T07:44:00.003-07:00

Happiest of holidays fellow pilgrims on the Camino that is life! And may the pathway through 2010 lead to all you dream of.

Life is good!
"Ginn"

Delights on the Camino of Life

2009-10-19T21:50:00.004-06:00

The beautiful castle at Ponferrada on a sunny spring day in May. There I was staring up at this beautiful castle and wishing I had a camera so I could share this amazing piece of history with my sweet spouse back in Santa Fe. I had come to terms, for the most part, with the fact that there would be no photos to record the last several hundred kilometres of my Camino - technology just failed me and I was trying to take it in stride. But as a woman who has long held romantic notions about castles, I was feeling a bit disappointed to not have just a snapshot of this beautiful fortress to post on my blog.

So, imagine my delight when a fellow pilgrim sauntered up to me and offered to take my photo. Always a little magic on the Camino. I hadn't seen Miguel in days and thought he was probably far ahead of me. My last view of him was from behind - he was wheeling away on a bicycle, yet there he was with his sweet, broad smile, aiming his camera at me and offering to document this moment for me.

We hugged and laughed and took the basic tourist photos of one another and then moved indoors to swap stories over large cups of latte. We ended up as walking companions for the day and shared dreams and secrets and laughed a lot as we walked westward toward Compostella.

I never saw the photos, but they were clear and bright inside my head. Then today, out of the blue, they arrived in the magical inbox of my laptop. What a delightful surprise.

I am grateful and filled with good memories. I am also filled with expectations for delights in the future - what delights are ahead on the Camino of life?

Like I often say, life is good...

(Thanks Miguel, my thoughtful pilgrim pal!)

Flea-Market Finds

2009-10-11T18:12:00.004-06:00

These are a few recent flea-market finds. Today the lovely silver, handcrafted shell found me as I was wandering back to my car when the flea market was closing down. The delightful shell called out to me. Because it was day's end the artist who made it gave me an excellent bargain. I plan to find a black band and wear it around my neck. I have a tiny sterling milagro shaped like a leg. I will tuck it behind the shell and have a very special souvenir.

The tiny pewter salt cellars delight me too. I found them a few weeks ago at the same market and once again they were a real bargain and mean so much to me. The napkin rings are living a full, rich life on our kitchen table - they were $1 each.

Tuesday, I have the opportunity to speak to a group about my Camino adventure. This will be my first talk about this very personal advneture. Funny, I have no problem with public speaking, but I feel a bit shy about speaking about this persoanl pilgrimage.

I still have not posted my packing list to this blog. Perhaps after I speak to the group I mentioned above, I will feel motivated to post some more of my thoughts on this poor neglected blog.

We shall see...

Steep Hills & Facebook Links

2009-09-26T12:22:00.010-06:00

I've reposted "The Word of the Day" from gratefulness.com (see below). I expect my fellow pilgrims will appreciate it. Read on:

Researchers studied 34 students at the University of Virginia, taking them to the base of a steep hill and fitting them with a weighted backpack. They were then asked to estimate the steepness of the hill. Some participants stood next to friends during the exercise, while others were alone. The students who stood with friends gave lower estimates of the steepness of the hill. And the longer the friends had known each other, the less steep the hill appeared.

Tara Parker-Pope
"What Are Friends For? A Longer Life" in the NY Times (April 20, 2009)
________________

Today I discovered a Facebook page for pilgrims who walked the Camino in May-June 2009. Search for this name: Camino de Santiago 2009 (Mai/Juni)

There are many Facebook pages filled with photos and observations by a variety of pilgrims.

I recently received a link from a pilgrim (from Poland I think) who walked last spring. He captured me in a few shots and kindly forwarded them to me. What a delightful surprise to open the link and see familiar faces and locations that conjure up meaningful memories. The gift was even more meaning ful when I realized he had posted THOUSANDS of photos. Imagine him taking time to e-mail individual photos to strangers he befriended along the long walk.

Isn't it wonderful how we can reach out and touch other pilgrims who have had similar experiences. We can also mentor those who wish to make the walk themselves. I am so grateful for the technologies that bring us all together as friends.
________________

The Flight Home from Spain - Tuesday, 2 June 2009

2009-09-10T15:43:00.003-06:00

The Flight Home from my Camino.

I took the night bus from Santiago to Madrid.

I arrived at Barajas airport, early in the morning, still wearing my walking clothes. I hadn’t dared remove my walking shoes on the bus – my left foot and ankle was swollen. I was afraid I would not be able to get the shoe back on if I took it off. So I had been wearing my clothes and shoes for over 24 hours. I was wearing the same walking clothes I basically wore every day for 40 days. I made the whole trip with only one complete change of clothing in my pack,

I had anticipated shopping for clothes in Santiago and maybe even going to a beauty shop for a shampoo and cut and maybe a manicure and pedicure. But here I was in beautiful Madrid, limping around in my tattered, tired clothes.

I hadn’t expected to be so exhausted and so ready to simply be home. Don’t misunderstand – the Camino was a wonderful experience and I treasure the people I met and the experiences I had…but I was tired, tired, tired.

At Barajas I saw that my flight was delayed several hours. I let out a big sigh and then found a cup of cafe con leche to comfort me while I waited for more information. I had to connect with another flight in the USA and make two changes. My estimated arrival at the airport and hour from home would be around 2300 PM. Now a delay which would no doubt complicate my schedule.

After my coffee, I headed over to the counter to see about the status of my flight. I could see on the board that it was cancelled. I took a deep breath. I teased a smile onto my face. As I approached the counter the ticketing agent beamed at me and said: “I wondered when you would check in! I’ve been waiting for you.”

I laughed, feeling self conscious in my walking clothes and boots. Then I pointed to my Camino patch and my shell and said, “Well, I walked about 800 kilometers to get here!”

The agent smiled and proceeded to give me really delightful and unexpected news. “Well, you better walk fast, because your plane is about to take off. We’ve put you on a direct flight and upgraded you to first class! Now hurry pilgrim, hurry!”

So that is how this smelly pilgrim in her tattered walking clothes ended up flying First Class, sipping champagne and watching movies on a non-stop flight back to the USA.

There are angels everywhere.

Santiago in the Rearview Mirror - Monday, 1 June 2009

2009-09-09T15:46:00.001-06:00

Santiago

Bag-rustlers and inconsiderate people with loud voices once again destroyed the tranquility of the morning, my last morning in an alburgue. (If I had do-overs I would spend a few nights in hotels! It is physically and psychologically demanding to sleep among strangers and have no privacy or control over so many parts of one’s life…character building, yes – fun, no!)

I dragged my bag and trekked over to the commercial district across town and found a cozy bar to breakfast on toast and café con leche. I window shopped till 1000 when stores opened. I found a huge bookstore with lots of books in English. (Follas Novas, Calle Montero Rios, 37 – 981.594.406…it is near the park where the ferris wheel dominates the horizon)

I looked at summer clothes but just couldn’t see myself in any of them – I really needed a complete make-over before I could transform from into any kind of butterfly. I found an internet café and spent an hour online and then wandered through the old Mercado – like a farmer’s market and filled with wonderful produce. I whiled away some time sitting in the shade reading a novel I purchased earlier. It was hot and humid already so I decided to walk to the bus station before siesta. I stopped enroute and had a sharuma at a Kazakhi restaurant.

I sat in the station café sipping café con leches and reading and sweating. I still have 3 ½ hours to wait. There is no A/C and there are no fans. I am restless, tired, bored and sweaty.

I consider moving to another table – I cannot avoid hearing the conversation going on between two people who seem to be negotiating a romantic liaison. He is a slim Italian and she is a hefty, plain-faced English-speaking woman. He holds her hand. I can hear their conversation but pretend not to. I do not move. I stare at the pages of the book in my hand. From the corner of my eye, I see body language that supports my original hypothesis – a rendezvous in the making. She is 40-ish, a bit plump with short, dishwater hair and unflattering glasses. They seem ill-matched. He knows little English – the conversation is hard work for him. He is not attractive, but seems so because of his attentive manner and his ability to appear sincere as he spews out flattering phrases.

After 30 minutes and two beers each, they depart together. I think they sealed a deal.

I wander out into the main station. A group of Latter Day Saints are there – ten young, clean-cut boys from the USA, spit-polished and wearing white shirts and ties. I engage them in conversation. We have a wonderful discussion about spirituality, service-before-self, life in foreign countries and all sorts of variations on the theme. They were quite interested in my Camino tales and my Peace Corps stories too.

Shortly after sunset, I boarded the bus for Madrid. I will arrive at Baraja airport in the morning, in time to catch my flight back to the USA.

I am ready to go home. I am ready to heal. I am ready to process all that has happened these past 6 weeks. I am ready to resume life. I am ready to see if the Camino to Santiago is the end of an adventure or just the beginning of the real adventure.

Santiago (Day 2) - Sunday 31 May 2009

2009-09-09T15:44:00.002-06:00

Santiago

At 0830, I was out of the albuergue. It was good to “sleep-in” – six weeks of rising at 0530 +/- and daily walks of 20+ kilometers made me stronger, but I was glad to linger a bit this morning.

I walked a few miles to the bus station to get my tickets for Monday departure. I could have taken a cab, but it didn’t occur to me. What’s a few more miles after a 500 mile walk? I should have taken a cab. I really was exhausted and my leg was aching.

Ticket in hand, I headed back to the cathedral and stopped at the pilgrim office to see who had arrived. I attended pilgrim mass again. Robert was there. We toured the cathedral and then spent most of the day wandering around the city talking and snacking. We drank lots of café con leche and sipped good red wine and just talked. I helped him buy souvenirs for his nephews. Robert will walk to the airport tomorrow.

He walked to the airport in Amsterdam at the start of his Camino and will walk to the airport at the end.

I said my goodbyes to my friend and went back to my albergue. I was asleep before the sun set. So much for celebrating. I felt old and tired.

Who is this person? This is not like me.

Santiago - Saturday, 30 May 2009

2009-09-09T15:41:00.009-06:00

Monte do Gozo -> Santiago de Compostela = 3K (I arrive!)

It is the dark of night. From my bed by the window in the albergue at Monte de Gozo, I see pilgrims walking past all night long. Like horses nearing home these pilgrims seem to chomp at the bit and rush to arrive at the cathedral.

I do not sleep well. At dawn, I grab my things and go to the common area to pack up.

I see many familiar faces and exchange hugs and some farewells from those who have been here a few days. Already there is a bitter-sweetness in the air. We are all about to end an adventure. (Or is it really just the beginning of a bigger adventure as many people seem to think?)

I walk alone on this cool, crisp morning. It is Saturday so there is not much traffic. The streets are empty.

I arrive in Santiago and stand gazing up at the cathedral by 0800 – I have the huge plaza to myself. It is a lovely moment, though honestly the moments leading up to it did not seem to set the proper tone. Somehow, I managed to lose the trail when I was just a few blocks from the cathedral. After 500 miles of following the little yellow arrows over through all kinds of terrain and weather, I felt pretty foolish losing my way just footsteps from my destination. Another opportunity to feel humble. 8-)

Then, just as I was about to round the corner to the plaza, I managed to walk right into the path of the spray as the huge street cleaner completed its circuit of the plaza. I almost cried and then quickly chose to laugh. And then I laughed hard.

So, I stand in front of the amazing cathedral, alone in the middle of the enormous plaza. The cobblestones glitter with the morning sun catching the water drops and making them look like diamonds. I stood there, awed by the cathedral and totally forgot about my wet clothes and my aching leg and all the pther petty details that could have ruined the moment.

Following my private moment in the square, I found my way to the pilgrim office. Standing there, smoking in the morning sun, was Robert (the “Flying Dutchman”). I grinned like a kid. We went for coffee and waited for the office to open.

Standing in line at the pilgrim office was a delight. The line wound up three flights of stairs. Pilgrims coming out stopped frequently to hug people or to talk to pilgrims they never expected to see again. It was like a school reunion. Outside the building many pilgrims who arrived days ago, lingered outside to inquire about other pilgrims.

With my official credential in hand, I headed over to the cathedral to attend pilgrim mass. I stood in the back. The cathedral was filled with tourists and pilgrims. Pilgrims were acknowledged by country. Many people wept. The huge incense burner swung across the front of the cathedral. I observed the disembodied arms of pilgrims hugging the Statue of St James high above and behind the priest at the front of the church.

Following mass, I realized just how exhausted I really was. My left leg was still swollen and painful. I had to find accommodations for the next two days, I needed to call my spouse, get bus tickets to Madrid, etc. It was hot and I suddenly felt alone. I should have checked into a nearby hotel, taken a shower, and simply relaxed and recuperated in a private room, but instead I walked to an albergue across town. It was a monastery on a hill and the sleeping room was a big open-bay.

Instead of celebrating, I simply laid down, elevated my leg and went to sleep among the snoring and grunting of 50 strangers.

I felt a little let down…like post-partum blues I guess. I did not expect to be so tired.

Monte do Gozo - Friday, 29 May 2009

2009-09-09T15:35:00.004-06:00

Arco de Pino -> Monte do Gozo = 16K (3K more and I will be in Santiago for Pilgrim Mass!)

The sweet smell of eucalyptus and the shaded walk make the 10 kilometer walk very pleasant despite the fact I have yet to get my morning coffee and toast. I am grateful for the shade, because the day is already humid and hot, though it is not yet 0900.

As I walk, I consider my plans. I will stop at Monte do Gonzo, just 3 kilometers short of my ultimate destination. Then I may take the bus into the suburbs of Santiago (leaving my pack at the albergue). I can shop for a skirt, a razor and real shampoo. I can also get a camera, since I can’t make mine work. (I am sad that I have no photos of the last half of the trip.) I will take the bus back to the albergue and get cleaned up for my final entrance, on foot, into Santiago.

It seems amazing to me that I will be at the pilgrim office near the cathedral tomorrow morning – I will be there when they open. The past 6 weeks seem like a dream sequence if a movie.

And then, I will go to pilgrim mass.

I was in the cathedral at Santiago decades ago (in the 1970’s) and that is when the seeds for my present adventure were planted. It was during the Generalissimo Franco-era and I found myself unexpectedly living in Spain. I read James Michener’s book “Iberia” and it became my guidebook and my window on the culture. On my visit to the cathedral, like tourists and pilgrims for centuries before me, I placed my hand on the famed statue just inside the entrance. A feeling coursed through me, almost a visceral experience. I knew in that moment, that somehow, someday, I would return to this spot as a real pilgrim.

As I walked along, I continued to consider what else may happen in Santiago. I looked forward to seeing familiar faces of pilgrims I had met on the Camino. At the end of the Camino, pilgrims tend to linger in Santiago. Many continue on to the end of the earth (Finistiere - sp?) and return to Santiago a few days later. So the opportunity to see friends and acquaintances is huge.

I considered just what I would do with the prayer ribbons I carried attached to my walking stick for all those kilometers. Each ribbon represents wishes from a friend and as I walked along, I frequently prayed for these people (and others). I want to make a suitable ceremony for them. I want to light candles. I am not a Catholic, so as I walked along, I pondered on that a bit too – rituals and symbols are not really part of who I am and how I live my life. But in the past few years I find myself surrounded by them. Much to think about as I walk under the Eucalyptus trees, breathing in the perfumes they share with those who walk these paths.

There are bus tickets to acquire, a book for the bus and plane ride home and there are postcards to send…my brain has jumped ahead and now I suddenly realize I am living in the future instead of staying in the now! The proximity to Santiago seems to have that effect. After weeks of walking and living in the now, the old pre-Camino habits are starting to sneak back into my life. Already. Sigh.

Later

I am sitting in the shade of building 29 of the 800 bed, Monte de Gozo albergue (which actually has only SOME beds designated for pilgrims – the rest is a hotel of sorts). There are 30 buildings. The pilgrim reception does not open until 1300. So here I sit, penning my journal and waiting again.

There are many hours spent waiting on the Camino; just part of the many free lessons in humility, meekness, patience and gratitude the Camino experience offers attentive students.

I initially walked past (I should say limped past!) the reception office to the far end of the complex. I was mis-directed by a less than helpful German woman. When I entered the lobby, I was rather un-graciously directed to leave. This area is designated for hotel patrons only. The reception area for pilgrims was back at the other end of the complex where I had originally started.

I trekked back up the hill (still nursing a shin-splint and a blister).

There are people from all over the world on the Camino. I am convinced that without much effort, one could make the entire walk without actually meeting a Spaniard or speaking Spanish. Many people travel in “packs” and rarely speak to anyone who is not part of their clique. This seems more true the closer I get to Santiago.

Perhaps because there are so many people on the path who are only walking the requisite 100 kilometers haven’t gone through all the storming and norming experiences that forged bonds among the pilgrims who have logged over 700 kilometers at this point. The pilgrims who join the path after Sarria seem distant. They are fixated on their goal somehow and seem to be uninterested in the other pilgrims.

Many pilgrims walk past as I sit here writing. Santiago is only a few kilometers away and they are eager to get there. They also look at the albergue and find the appearance off-putting. The 30 buildings look a bit Spartan. I see many old walking companions and greet them warmly. I am resolute about waiting till tomorrow to make my entrance into Santiago.

This morning I walked through Lavacolla. The name translates as “wash the loins.” Historically pilgrims stopped there to bathe in the stream before making the last approach to their destination: the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela.

After their bath, pilgrims would race up Monte de Goza (Mount of Joy) n a version of the child’s game of King of the Hill. From Monte de Goza pilgrims can see the spires of the cathedral. Atop the hill is a large monument to Pope Pius (sp?).

I check into the albergue (3E for the night) and find the facilities to be quite pleasant. The shower is hot and I have only 2 roommates. I discover one can stay at this albergue for 3 days. Many pilgrims walk into Santiago and get their credentials and then take the bus back at night. The alburgues in the city are pricier.

I wash my clothes and walk back to the village to dine on the pilgrim menu with the delightful pilgrim from New Zealand.

I abandon my plans to bus into town to shop. My ankle/foot is swollen and my shin aches. I will walk into the city in the early morning – I want to be at the cathedral before the crowds.

I have mixed feelings knowing I will soon be on an airplane heading back to the USA. I will miss this crazy life and the friends I have made on this odd journey.

I watch the sunset on the distant cathedral spires…tomorrow I will no longer be a pilgrim. Or will I?

Arco de Pino - Thursday, 28 May 2009

2009-07-03T09:13:00.005-06:00

Ribadosoa -> Arco do Pino = 23K (Only 19K to go – I may be in Santiago tomorrow!)

Summer has arrived. It is hot! It’s hard to believe this 6 week adventure began with April snows in the forecast at Roncesvalles. Now in late May, sweat drips down my nose and onto my shirt.

My walking companions today (three guys from Germany) didn’t speak much so it was like walking alone. We maintained the same pace and stopped for café con leche and conversation along the way. I enjoy the steep climbs and sing even on the goat-like climbs. I feel fit. I am grateful for this – I consider what I went through recovering from surgeries back in 2005.

As I walk, so many things fly through my head. I wish I had stopped to write them down. Throughout this adventure, I have failed to stop and write. I have waited till days-end and then merely jotted down the bare bones of the trip and rarely any of the insights and lessons I have learned. At days-end, I am tired and forgetful.

I check into the albergue when it opens at 1300. When I arrived, backpacks were already lined up outside the door, designating the order of arrival. The sweaty pilgrims sat, shoes off, waiting to check in. I was among the first.

The hospitaleros give me a disposable sheet for my bottom bunk. There is a luxury here: a reading lamp built in the wall. I wish I had a book to read.

Once checked in, I cleaned up a bit. I have made-do on this trip; using bandanas as towels …cutting corners to keep the weight down. It will be so great to have real towels, nice clothes, cosmetics, shampoo & conditioner, curls, etc. It feels good to wash away all the mud. I apply some lip gloss, comb my hair (I’ve been washing my long locks with Castile soap!) and don my alternate walking clothes. I head out to find lunch.

I run into two old friends: the Flying Dutchman and the woman from New Zealand. We sit at an outdoor café and while away the hot, afternoon, siesta-hours, hoping for a breeze. It is hot and the humidity is much higher than it has been. I am so grateful I am not walking in the real heat of summer. We nurse our wine and talk about life, baring our souls in the way one does with a stranger.

At 1700, the stores open and I spend some time looking, but do not buy. I do not want anything enough to carry it, but I am drawn to all the little luxuries (scarves, cosmetics, cologne) like a kid in a candy store. I feel like a street person. I feel like a poor person. I leave the shops and walk a bit more.

These afternoons of just hanging out are difficult. There are days one cannot walk further because of the distances and days when the body will not permit it…and there is always the worry of finding a bed at an albergue. Language barriers, customs and culture and feelings of isolation can weigh heavy at times. People who walk with others may not feel this so much.

I wander into a supermercado (grocery store) and ponder what to eat for dinner. At 1930 there are pilgrim menus available at local restaurants (9 Euro) but I do not have the energy to go through the motions of dining alone in a restaurant. I buy some meat, bread, a piece of fruit and some wine and go back to the albergue.

The Asians who walk the Camino like to cook their own meals so as I walk in, the smells drift out to me. I enjoy watching them cook and share with one another. If my spouse were here, I am sure he would be cooking us a lovely meal, but I am not so inclined. On this trip, I frequently settle for yogurt or a sandwich or I stop in a bar for a racion of calamares or tortilla. I am not much of a “foodie”.

The sun beats down on the albergue. This is better than rain, I guess. I cannot imagine what walking in the summer months would be like. The alburgues would be like ovens. My sleeping bag and silk sack need airing and/or cleaning. I frequently sleep on top of my sleeping bag and use the silk bag as a modesty cover. Earlier in the trip, the sleeping bag was well used.

With only 19K to go, many pilgrims will end their pilgrimage in Santiago tomorrow. I plan to wend my way through the eucalyptus forest and stop just 4K outside town at the huge Monte de Gozo (Mount of Joy) albergue (the facility has 800 beds!). I want to arrive at the cathedral in Santiago in the cool, early morning hours on Saturday, before the city is fully awake and before the sun becomes my enemy. I also want to have the plaza fronting the cathedral to myself for a few precious moments.

I climb into bed early. I notice that two of my roommates have already gone. They slept away the afternoon and now are gone. Will they walk all night? I wonder.

I lay awake on my bunk listening to the sounds of 50 people settling in for the night. We are like cattle or chickens roosting. Each pilgrim has an evening routine or ritual. Many write under the glow from headlamps or flashlights. The man I dubbed “the Sea Lion” is among the 50 pilgrims – he has sleep apnea and snores in a frightening way. I have shared quarters with him several nights in the recent past. Many pilgrims swear by ear plugs.

I consider who among these pilgrims will be guilty of bag-rustling and noise in the wee, early morning hours. Can their evening behavior be a predictor of their morning routine?

The pilgrims who smoke emanate the odor of tobacco and smoke.

In only a few days, my albergue nights will be history. Living so closely among strangers has been an experience. Human behavior is frequently surprising, sometimes disappointing and inconvenient, but there are times when it is comforting.

It is time for this pilgrim to call it a night.

Ribadiso - Wednesday, 27 May 2009

2009-07-03T08:52:00.003-06:00

Palas de Rei -> Ribadiso = 27K (40.7K to Santiago)

The sky is blue. There is a fine breeze. I have showered, washed my hair and my clothes and it is already dry. I spent an hour online. I sat on the riverbank and chatted with a Frenchman whom I have seen frequently on my pilgrimage. Now I am soaking up sun, sitting by the river and watching the nearby cattle. Many pilgrims are stretched out on the lush grass, sunning, chatting, relaxing. This rural albergue is a delightful place to stay. The atmosphere and facilities make me think of summer camp.

I had a hard time getting started this morning. Snoring (like sea lions fighting!) and farting were issues. I was up at 0700 and gone by 0715. My plan was for a shorter walk actually. I had hoped to stay in Melide tonight. The city is renowned for its octopus (pulpo) and I wanted to have a leisurely evening meal of it. I also wanted to shop for some clothes to wear to the Pilgrim mass when I arrive in Santiago. (I’ve worn the same clothes almost every day and they are worn, faded, and make me feel like a street person when I am in an urban setting.) Unfortunately the albergue there was closed. So, I had to continue on.

My left calf smarts with every step so the rest of the walk was painful.

As I watch the sun set, many pilgrims have adjourned to a local bar to watch an important soccer event (Manchester versus Barcelona). I enjoy the sweet evening air. The quiet is punctuated with frequent cheers from the soccer fans huddled around the TV set. Barcelona wins, there are fireworks outside.

I have enjoyed my stay at this albergue.

Things I saw as I walked today:
o Tall, narrow drying sheds – What are they?
o Pilgrims walking back from Santiago – an older woman and her dog.
o Villagers. I wish to trad lives with them: stay put and befriend passers-by.
o Comments (envious and/or impressed)on my small pack - ’m grateful for my tiny load.
o Cows coming home along the river banks
o Fish leaping from the water at sunset.

Palas de Rei - Tuesday, 26 May 2009

2009-07-03T08:39:00.004-06:00

Portomarin -> Palas de Rei = 26K (Only 66K to go – Wow!)

I was out of the albergue at 0715 and walked till about 0900 before I found a place to stop for breakfast. I was disappointed there was no toast available. Small disappointments seem big sometimes. I really love my morning toast. (Maybe the disappointment is disporportionate because there is so little one actually has control over - expecting something as simple as a piece of toast and then being refused takes on larger meaning in that context.)

I walked through eucalyptus trees today. The perfume intoxicates me.

I stopped at the old municipal albergue (3E) in Palas de Rei about 1300. The private albergue up the street was already full, so I consider myself fortunate to have my daily bread here. (Private albergues will often take phone reservations and many pilgrims call ahead.)

The municipal albergue has a sign on the door saying it will be closed to pilgrims the next few days. I wonder if there is a local holiday. Or could it be for an annual cleaning (purging for bedbugs) before the actual tourist season begins on 1 June?

This albergue is really Spartan. For 3 Euros, I share the room with about ten people, mostly men, and the shower arrangements are not good (no privacy). I decide to forgo my shower. I spend most of the afternoon sitting on a park bench (my leg hurts so walking is out) soaking up the spring sun.

As I sit soaking up sun in the local plaza, a couple of pilgrims walk past with their two young daughters. The children look to be about 7 and 9. I am not sure where their Camino began actually, but I am impressed by the parent’s patience and good nature as they juggle the logistics. Just walking the Camino is no easy task.

I have heard these young girls have learned to deal with some of the attention they receive, by saying “You can take our photo if you buy us an ice cream!” A little scary actually!

Other Camino tales: The Prime Minister of Ireland recently walked the Camino along with a large group of friends. Bruce Springsteen will walk the Camino in August (2009 or 2010?). One of the women who runs the Pilgrim office in Santiago is getting married this weekend in Santiago. Pilgrims are invited to attend.

The afternoon and evening stretch out before me. I have no plans and the town does not offer much diversion. My aching leg keeps me from walking much. On days like yesterday and today I wish I had carried a good novel with me. I will no doubt spend the time sitting with other pilgrims who are also biding their time till we can all sleep and wake to another day.

Portomarin - Monday 25 May 2009

2009-07-03T08:36:00.003-06:00

Portomarin -> Portomarin = Zero K (Still 90K to go!)

“Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.”

It is cold and rainy. My left shin feels stiff, sore and is swollen. I dress and put on my pack, hoping I can walk off the pain and make a short day (15K), but as I stride up the hill, through the cold rain, I realize I need to take a day off. I run into the Canadian who is suffering from blister issues and accompany him to the local medical facility to help with language challenges. (He speaks no Spanish.)

So here I am back at the albergue, sipping espresso from the vending machine while the staff mops floors around me. Outside, fog has rolled in – the lake view is almost obscured.

A little about the lake: the Belesar Reservoir is a man made lake. Portomorin was nestled in a valley and was completely submerged when the reservoir was built. The old St Nickolas Church was moved, block by block to the top of the hill where it looks down on the lake. All the other buildings in town are only a few decades old. Fish swim in and out of the empty homes submerged in the vast lake.

The damp, chilly weather makes me miss my fleece. I left it behind somewhere and really haven’t missed it until now. When I am walking I keep warm enough most days.

Around 1300 I ventured out to find some groceries. I have the kitchen to myself essentially. I came home with a large ripe tomato, a bag of cheese tortellini and some wine. I also splurged on a novel to read during the rainy afternoon. (There were about 5 titles to choose from so the book was eminently forgettable.)

As I was preparing my simple repast, the Canadian appeared and joined me for lunch. He contributed a loaf of bread and conversation. He also washed the dishes. Outside the miserable rain continued.

After lunch, I showered and crawled into my upper bunk to read and nap the rainy afternoon away.

The extra day was necessary, but I was sorry to fall behind my familiar companions. I wonder who will be in Santiago when I finally arrive?

Portomarin - Sunday, 24 May 2009

2009-07-03T08:34:00.003-06:00

Sarria -> Portomarin = 26K (Under 100K now: just 90.4K to go!)

I was up about 0600 – too much snoring and snorting in the room. With only 5 roommates I thought it might be quieter.

I walked across Sarria, where King Alfonso IX lost his life on his way to Compostela. He founded the city and gave it his name and then ended up dying there. I did not linger there, but stopped for an al fresco breakfast at the top of the stair steps on the pilgrim route. I ran into “Herr Gummischuhe” there and at the next coffee stop S. (the Irish woman) and J. (a German woman) joined us for the rest of our day’s walk.

The day was damp and rainy and we moved along quickly. The pilgrims who only walk 100K are pretty obvious. They are so clean and many of them seem rather humorless and sober. Those of us with hundreds of kilometers under our belts are getting almost giddy with delight: less than 100K to go! It seems like nothing. We laugh and joke and draw ugly looks from some of the pilgrims who just began the walk.

One 100K pilgrim singled me out. “Wow, you have a tan,” he says in a dear Irish accent. “You are a real pilgrim! Can I take your photo?” So our motley crew posed for a photo. We encounter many Irish pilgrims. They invariably comment, “Galicia looks is just like Ireland, only the mountains are smaller in Ireland.”

My left leg gives me pain. It is quite uncomfortable, perhaps from the long, swift walk yesterday. I struggle to keep walking. When we stop I realize my ankle is swollen and my SmartWool socks are constricting my leg. I fold the socks down to relieve some of the pressure and continue walking.

We arrive in Portomarin and check into the albergue. S discovers she has left her pilgrim credential at the albergue in Sarria. While she and my other companions make phone calls and take care of that situation, I collapse in a chair and peel off my left sock. My ankle is quite swollen.

The albergue at Portomarin has the look of a large hospital ward – bays of bunk beds with every four rows flanked with white privacy curtains. It is a huge facility with hundreds of beds. There is a wonderful view of the lake below and there is a pleasant place to dine next door.

I head over to the restaurant with J. and several other pilgrims join us, including my Canadian buddy (whom I first met at the scary albergue in Rabe) and the young Priest from Indiana and the Danish woman who lives in Spain and a few other familiar faces. The place is filled with pilgrim faces I recognize.

I call it a night rather early, hoping my leg will be back to normal tomorrow. I hope the cold rain will blow over.

Sarria - Saturday 23 May 2009

2009-07-03T08:31:00.002-06:00

Fonfria -> Sarria (via Samos!) = 35K (Only 115K and I will be in Santiago!)

Despite the steep descent and the extra kilometers I logged on my unintentional detour through Samos, my feet are happy; the band aids are gone and no blisters remain!

The albergue I am so grateful to be in, is most pleasant. I am curled up on a couch near the fireplace in the common room, listening to new-age music and sipping tea. An exuberant kitten is playing hide and seek on the adjacent couch. (There are 8 more cats on the premises.)

Outside, thunder rumbles and a deluge of rain falls. I am glad to be warm and cozy here indoors. I arrived before the rain began. It would be difficult to walk in such a storm.

The days’ walk was lovely for the most part, but longer than I intended. At Tricastela there were two paths and somehow I took the longer route via Samos. The reward for the longer walk was the chance to see a fine 6th century Benedictine monastery with the beautiful renaissance courtyard.

Over coffee in Samos, another pilgrim tells me that I am now in the 11th stage of the Codex Calixtinus. Aymeric Picaud wrote this ancient book detailing the challenges and hardships of the pilgrimage to Santiago. Many pilgrims still use it as a guide.

The last 15K from Samos to Sarria is rural and mostly on a sealed road lined with chestnut trees and oaks. The villages seem deserted except for the large dogs (they resemble German Shepherds) who greet me as I enter each community. They wag their tails, but are a bit wary of strangers.

As I walked through the woods, I ran across the “Gypsy Boy” today (the brother of the delightful French woman who is travelling with her almost-4 year old son). He had a small encampment in the woods and was cooking a lovely lunch of bacon-wrapped meat and some vegetables over hot coals in a small fire pit he had dug beneath a tree. His look is somehow timeless and seeing him in the forest, bent over his cooking, he resembles an old painting depicting life in another century. The image is strong.

Later I see the “Gypsy Boy’s” sister and her blue-eyed boy as they pass the albergue where I am spending the night. The youngster is lured in by the chickens on the lawn. He chases after them, laughing. It is a delightful scene until the rooster, thinking his hens are in danger, attacks the child. That is the end of the fun, at least for a little while. (The documentary film crew materialized and got this adventure on film! I have not seen them since Logrono!)

As I write, the evening meal is being prepared. The smells are inviting. I suspect there will be a tortilla Espanol (a potato omlette) and Caldo Gallego (regional soup). This will be a nice change from the frequent offerings lentejas (lentils) which most albergues prepare for the pilgrim meal.

This is a private albergue, run by two generations of a family. It is a new building and is well designed and the hosts are kind and warm people. After 32 nights in a different bed every night, I have some opinions on how to run an albergue!

Tomorrow the 100K pilgrims will begin to appear. I have about 600K under my belt now – 100K does not seem like much. But, I am not eager for it to end just yet.

Fonfria - Friday, 22 May 2009

2009-07-02T08:52:00.003-06:00

Vega de Valcarce -> Fonfria = 25K (Just 140.7K more!)

Entering the Fonfria, a herd of lovely, velvet-eyed, brown cows crowd me to the side of the “Main Street.” A handsome shepherd dog eyes me for a moment, sizing me up, and then passes behind me, managing his bovine charges effectively and efficiently. The shepherd smiles.

Outside the albergue door, a beautiful, large, grey stallion systematically eliminates the tall grass. I hear a rooster crow nearby and I see dogs playing across the dusty street.

“This is where I will spend the night,” I decide and smile to myself.

From inside the charming albergue, loud music pours out and as I enter the door I see the hospitalera dancing behind the bar as she makes a cup of café con leche.

"Oh yes," I think, "I am checking in!" Animals, music, dancing and cafe con leche - who could ask for more?

So here I am relaxing over a café con leche; over the mountain after a remarkable walk which, at intervals, felt like a scene out of a Disney film. Galicia is more like Ireland than what one may think of as Spain. But of course, Galicia is part of Spain. It is very clear that it was influenced by the Celts.

I climbed the mountain in the early hours arriving in Galicia as the sun came over the peaks and kissed the green, green mountainside. It is almost surreal.

Early in the day I walked through La Faba, where I stopped to catch my breath. This village would have been a lovely place to spend a night. (There is a German or possibly Dutch run albergue that feeds pilgrims from their organic garden)

I linger a bit, playing with a pair of delightful stray kittens who wrestle one another, fighting over a grease-soaked loaf of bread and a few pieces of chorizo I share with them. I resume walking.

The enchanting villages I walk through today smell of cattle and are perched on hillsides so steep the cows must have 2 long legs and 2 shorter legs in order to graze on the hillsides. The path is littered with cow manure.

When I arrive in O’Cebreiro at the peak of the mountain, fog engulfs the 9 ancient, round, stone, thatch-roofed structures (pallozas) that comprise (most of) the village. The fog adds to the mystical quality of the place. Words like amazing, haunting come to mind. I can almost believe the local legend; the 14th Century miracle about the wine and bread turning into blood and the flesh of Christ.

Once again, I wish I could stay a day or two and simply soak up the ambience of this special place. But, I am a pilgrim and I cannot tarry…pilgrims are meant to walk. As I walk, I find myself wondering is J.R Tolkien ever visited the region. It could have been the inspiration for his Hobbit-world.

I had been anxiously anticipating the challenging climb, one of the most challenging on the entire Camino. Like many things in life, the climb was somewhat anti-climactic. Many pilgrims elect to taxi or bus their way over the mountain. Others send their backpacks ahead so they can walk more easily. I did neither. I chose to walk with my backpack and found that I was exhilarated by the steep climb. My joy and excitement fuel my energy and I walk on beyond my original destination.

So here I am in the charming albergue in Fonfria. I have had a delicious hot shower (in a private bathroom) and I washed my long hair with borrowed shampoo. I am sitting in a sunny courtyard letting my hair dry in the breeze and sipping sidra (apple cider) with a group of fellow pilgrims. There is lots of laughter and conversation (despite language barriers). The German man with the cowboy hat (I dubbed him “Herr Gummi-schuhe”) is so funny. My Irish friend (S.) and the Danish woman who lives in Spain, my friend from Finland, the delightful woman from New Zealand and many other pilgrims while away the late afternoon together.

It is hard to imagine that my pilgrimage will soon come to an end. I push that thought aside and stay in the happy present.

Vega de Valcarce - Thursday, 21 May 2009

2009-07-02T08:49:00.002-06:00

Cacabelos -> Vega de Valcarce = 25K (163.6K remaining on the Way to Santiago!)

When I slipped away from the albergue at Cacabelos at 0630, the over-flow crowds on mattresses outdoors were still sleeping. I walked up and down 2 hills (about 8K) before a fine breakfast stop in Villafranco Bierzo. What a wonderful community. If I had “do-overs,” I would have spent my night here instead of in Cacabelos.

Pilgrims who suffer from ailments and illness can walk through the Puerta del Perdon (door of pardon) on the north side of the Santiago church that perches above Villafranco Bierzo. Those pilgrims too ill to go on will receive the same indulgences as pilgrims who reach Compostela. The town is beautiful in the crisp bright morning sun.

The next 30K are the most physically challenging of the Camino. The total assent is 1280 meters.

As I walk along the Camino, my mind skips along. Movies and books and songs, memories, dreams all fill my head. I make a mental list of things that make me happy:
• Rose Arbors, Potted Geraniums, Wild Flowers and Flowerboxes
• Cats (Orange cats especially) and Dogs
• Cows and Sheep
• Parakeets and Chickens
• Blue Doors, French Doors and Split Doors (Dutch Doors)
• Rustic Benches
• Books, Films and Music
• Toast (With Butter & Orange Marmalade)
• Hot Showers
• Hammocks

I visualize different lives: should we go back to our cozy bungalow in SC or try a new adventure (a B&B in Malawi?) or maybe life in Minneapolis, Saint Louis or Albuquerque. Should we just stay in Santa Fe?

I walk and think. I weep when I am happy – my heart breaks open and all the joy spills out. I remember a quote from William Blake (I don’t remember the context): “…Excess of sorrow laughs, excess of joy weeps…” In m mind I hear my mother quoting someone (Frost?) about living by the side of the road and being a friend to all mankind.

I am happy.

My camera has fresh batteries, but now the memory card is full. So, again I have no opportunity to take photos of the beautiful scenery I travel through. Some images I wish I could have captured include:
• A German Shepherd dog and its’ small friend on a tiny 2nd floor terrace eyeing pilgrims walking by.
• Grey stone buildings with slate roofs and rustic wood beams and doors covered in bold, bright blossoms.
• A pair of wooden clogs parked under a rustic bench.
• Beatific caramel-colored cows grazing on emerald-green, rolling hills.
• The babbling stream that snaked along the path during my post breakfast walk.

I enjoy the early morning walk and move quickly till about noon. I elect to stop at an albergue run by Brazilians. It is an older building, but clean and inviting. The hospitalero is so enthusiastic and happy, I cannot resist staying (even though it is a bit pricey). There are hammocks, there is lively music, it is quite pleasant and there is the promise of an al fresco Brazilian communal feast in the Camelot garden.

I am the first pilgrim to check in today. I find a hammock and curl up to write and think. Later I sip wine and have a long, interesting conversation with a Dutchman I met in Astorga (I call him “The Flying Dutchman”).

Dinner is pleasant.

At dinner I am amused when a fellow pilgrim (a German man) insists I look like Joan Baez. This is the third time on this trip someone has compared me to Joan Baez. I respond with a wisecrack about my singing – if they heard me sing it would certainly dispel any illusions that I might be Joan Baez!

After lights out, I fall asleep with the refreshing breeze from an open window (unusual at most albergues) and the pleasant sound of crickets singing in the night.

Cacabelos - Wednesday, 20 May 2009

2009-07-02T08:35:00.007-06:00

Molinaseca -> Cacabelos = 23K (189.6K remaining!)

I feel as if I am in a detainee camp. And like a detainee, I am just grateful to have a place to stay.

The dismal, concrete grounds are Spartan and shade less. Weary pilgrims sit on the curbs in the hot afternoon sun, tending their sore foot and leg injuries. Others are hard at work at the outdoor sinks, scrubbing the day’s dirt from their clothing. Wet laundry hangs on drying racks scattered around the dreary, cramped courtyard that is our temporary home.

Last night I stayed in a lovely, bright private albergue filled with potted geraniums, no bunk beds and a dining room. Tonight I am just grateful to have a bed.

Late in the afternoon, there is still a line snaking around the building and the hospitalero’s have no more beds to spare. Recent arrivals are given thin pallets and are going to sleep in the communal area – outdoors! (I try to imagine what pilgrim life is like during the busy season!)

The albergue is a municipal one, associated with a church. Tiny cell-like rooms line the walls around the churchyard. Inside each dark, dank cell are two beds (privacy). There are no locks on the doors, but anyone walking past the closed door could lock inhabitant in. This makes me uncomfortable.

I look at the map and see that there will be a steady climb, climb, climb in the near future. Of course climbs are usually followed by descents and this one is a quick, steep one. (From 400 meters -> 1300 meters and then down: 1285 meters -> 665 meters in just under 7 kilometers!) Pilgrims on the Camino learn quickly that descents are often much more of a challenge than the climbs.

On my walk today I saw many lovely sights; sights worthy of photographing. Since my camera batteries were dead, I took mental pictures of the following:

• A skinny donkey and a skinny farmer plowing a rocky field.
• A nest of black cats snuggled together, taking a siesta inside an old tire.
• Abundant, colorful blooms spilling out of a window box.
• An elderly man walking his cow as if it was a dog.
• A fabulous castle (Ponferrada) that conjured up dreams of knights of old.
• Wine fields spanning the rolling hills with a Mordor-like mountain looming beyond.

I had anticipated walking further today (7K more) but banking and buying batteries slowed me down. Sometimes simple tasks take longer when one is on the road. I had to go to a couple ATMs in order to get cash. I am always afraid the machines will retain my card, so each time I was refused cash, I elected to try a different ATM.

I also lingered a bit in Ponferrada where I ran into M. (a delightful fellow-pilgrim and photographer from NYC/London). M. and I met unexpectedly at the corner in front of the beautiful castle, as if by pre-arrangement. It is always a joy to see a familiar face, so I was glad to see my friend again (he pops up every so often, like a guardian angels of sorts!).

We had breakfast and good conversation before taking a few photos of the old Knights Templar castle. (I wish I had stayed overnight in Ponferrada so I could have time to really explore the castle and the rest of this old mining town.) Then we resumed our walk, this time together. Ponferrada is urban, so the walk across town and out into the countryside took a while. We walked and talked for a few hours.

Eventually I left him my friend behind. In the end, each pilgrim must walk their own pace.

Dinner tonight was fun. I dined with S. (a young, irreverent Irish woman with a Gaelic name) and her current walking companions, a group of Italian men who are travelling together. We dined on a decent pilgrim menu at a local bar: typical stuff, but really well prepared. The homemade flan was the best I have ever tasted and the serving size was enormous!

It is time for this pilgrim to douse the light and dream about the days to come.

Molinaseca - Tuesday, 19 May 2009

2009-06-26T13:23:00.005-06:00

Foncebadon -> Molinaseca = 21K (212.4K remaining on the way to Santiago!)

I have climbed mountains since I saw you last;
You will not find me where you left me,
I have scaled pinnacles and seen the vast Horizon of a higher point of view.

The lines above run through my mind as I stride along the mountain paths. I do not know who wrote these words nor do I remember more of the poem, but these lines resonate with me. They are powerful in their imagery.

I walked alone and arrived at the Cruz de Ferro while mists still shrouded the mountaintop. Beneath the cross, the ground is littered with offerings. There are photographs and notes, a mountain of stones and other offerings left by pilgrims. I look for a while, but feel overcome with a sense that I am a voyeur, observing the sorrows and pains each offering represents.

With the cross behind me, the fog dissipates. Sunlight spills over the mountains. It is peaceful o be out walking when the world comes alive.

As I reached Monjarin I hear Thomas ring the pilgrim bell, announcing my arrival. A bevy of friendly dogs trot out to greet me; tails wagging, tongues lolling.

This “hippie warren” is a delight.

I see the 3-year old boy who travels with his entourage of admirers and family. He is playing with kittens and singing songs. I sip the coffee Thomas thrusts into my hands. On the hillside, the sheep and beautiful brown cows are grazing. I want to linger longer, but the road calls and I leave behind this serene mountain compound to begin my descent down the mountain.

I pass through an enchanted forest and continue my walk down the mountain. I walk for miles seeing no other pilgrims, sharing the beautiful scenery with no one. My heart grows full.

I stop in Molinaseca (instead of Ponferrada). The new albergue is so inviting, I cannot walk on.

I am immediately befriended by an older Danish woman who wants to/needs to talk. We buy picnic supplies and linger on the banks of the river as the sun sinks lower in the sky. We drink cheap wine out of our water bottles and relax.

When I arrive back to the albergue and walk into my room, I am literally swept into the arms of a Spanish man who dramatically danced me around the floor and ended the routine with a dip. He is pilgrim I had met earlier on. It is always wonderful to see familiar faces. And when there is dancing involved, so much the better!

Tomorrow I will be below the 200K mark and in just two weeks I will be back home in the USA. This will all be just a pleasant memory.

Foncebadon - Monday, 18 May 2009

2009-06-26T13:19:00.003-06:00

Astorga -> Foncebadon = 25K (231K to Santiago!)

“There are no beds,” said the hospitalero without raising his eyes.

“What?” I responded in disbelief and my voice quavering.

Here I am exhilarated from the climb up to the highest populated village in Spain and suddenly hearing that there are no beds available in this tiny, isolated village.

It is only 1500 – how can the albergue be full?

His words are especially devastating because I had already heard the same message in the other albergue in town. The next village is over another peak, about 5K away. It is a primitive place with no water and no electricity (kind of a hippie compound). And what if it is full?

Behind me, another woman, speaks up. “Can we just sleep on the floor?” she says.

The German hospitalero stares at us, as if assessing us and then disappears for a few minutes. He returns with good news. He has found an open bunk for me and my friend can sleep on a mattress on the floor.

I say a prayer of gratitude and smile. I have someplace to sleep tonight!

I shower and sit on the porch, drying my long locks in the dying afternoon sun. A dog (looking dead) sleeps in the middle of the road. Kittens dart in and out of the tumbled down slate buildings that used to be homes in another era. I hear the cattle lowing, their bells ringing as they graze on the steep hillsides. The village is above tree level. The peaks surrounding the community are snow-capped.

This albergue is church run. There is a modest communal meal in the small dining room. The air is cold. I will be glad for my sleeping bag tonight. I’ve lost my fleece so I hope it will not be too cold in the morning.

In my opinion, people who stay in public albergues when they “do” the camino have a vastly different experience than those individuals who stay in private accommodations (where you can make reservations). The logistics of finding an albergue can interfere with the delights (or challenges) of the daily walk.

And once a bed is confirmed, there are still the demands of sharing space and services. Diverse languages, nationalities, customs and courtesies add to the soup. Not only is there a concern about finding a bed after a day of walking, there is the communal experience that extends beyond simply dining together. I am seldom alone in the albergues. There is nominal, if any privacy.

Tomorrow I will see the Cruz de Ferro, visit Majarin where Sir Thomas rings a bell whenever a pilgrim enters his village (population 1). But now, I shall sleep.

I have a bed and I am very grateful for that. And for so much more. Life is good.

[Batteries dead in camera for two days - no photos...will get batteries in next real town I'm in.]

Astorga - Sunday, 17 May 2009

2009-06-26T13:03:00.003-06:00

Astorga (256K to Santiago!)

The days and nights are filled with ups and downs; some are emotional while others are physical.

I did not really enjoy my experiences in Leon. It is a beautiful city and there were lovely moments, but as in Burgos, in Leon I found myself feeling like an outsider, like a homeless person. I struggled with my attitude during my short stay there. I was exhausted.

I am quite glad to leave the city behind me, just an image in my metaphorical rear-view mirror.

I am now miles and miles down the road now and journaling again. My spirits are better.

Today was a lovely walking day. I found myself striding along with a couple delightful young women. (One is a soldier in UK and the other a Yale graduate originally from Romania). We sang silly songs and laughed a lot. It was healing for me.

As I head west, the terrain changes. I am reminded of the forest in the film “The Big Fish”.

The albergue is pleasant. There are about ten people per room. I have a wonderful view from my upper bunk – the city of Astorga stretches out in the valley outside my window and the moon shines in, lighting the notebook I am writing in. My suitemates include three people from Slovakia who just started their Camino in Leon – they are dealing with foot issues and overweight packs. There is a delightful Dutch man and a Danish woman and a German woman plus my two walking partners of the day.

When we returned from dinner tonight we were all in a crazy mood – lots of laughing and sharing stories, long after the lights went out. We were all like children at a slumber party.

Tomorrow, I will climb one of the two most challenging mountains on this journey. Tomorrow, I will write from the top of the mountain.

Sahugun - Thursday, 14 May 2009

2009-06-24T13:18:00.006-06:00

Ledigos -> Sahugun = 17K (365K remaining!)

I am penning this in the sunny Plaza Mayor in Sahugun. I am wearing my windbreaker because the spring breezes are still chilly here. In my scruffy clothes and windblown hair, I feel like a homeless person (which in a way I am). I am whiling away the hours, waiting till 1600 or so when I hope to connect with friends who live on this very plaza. I don’t have their address or their phone number, but I have been in touch online. They are in Leon for the day. So, for a couple hours I am living on a park bench.

During siesta, there is not much to do. I spent some time and 2 Euros at the Café Zentral catching up on e-mail. I snacked on tortilla and tinto (red wine). And now here I am, basking in the sun on my very own park bench.

My day started later than usual. I left the Ledigos albergue around 0720. Temperatures had dropped and the prairie wind was quite strong. The sky quickly became blue and the waving, green wheat captivated me as I walked along. At 3K I stopped for breakfast at a bar in Terradillos de los Templarios. I was delighted when a frisky kitten proceeded to hop up on my lap and snuggle down for a nap. (Spanish cats often tend to be a bit aloof or suspicious). A second kitten arrived. I had a hard time making myself leave the cozy scene.

I walked on (another 3.5K) to Moratinos where I was met at the fountain just before town. An e-mail buddy (and former Air Force brat) was sitting there with one of her dogs. (She’s an Ex-Pat and has a home here in sunny Spain) My friend and I walked up the rise to the village where we were met by her beloved spouse and dog #2. They swept me into their cozy kitchen and plied me with coffee and cookies. Her mother was visiting from the USA. After days of communal life (barracks living!) it was a delight to sit in a kitchen and sip American coffee, chat in English, and have a sense of “normal” for a bit. I even felt a little homesick for my girlhood days in Iowa, gathered around the kitchen table with my sisters and my own mother. A little touch of home for a lonely, tired pilgrim!

My friend's offered me a bed for the night and ohhhh was it tempting. A lazy, relaxed day among kindred spirits would be a good thing. But, I graciously declined and pressed on. (Frankly, I am always a bit disbelieving when people offer me a bed or an invitation – I turn shy and feel unworthy. My social skills are bad – I seldom “look people up when I’m in town” … heck I hardly even call my own daughter!) I lingered a while, but when some other pilgrims showed up, I departed. It was a delightful stop and I am grateful to have had a few hours with them.

So, now I am in Sahugun, a lively town in a rural area. The plaza where I wait and on which my friends live, is bordered with 14 trees. At this time of year the tops of the trees are trimmed back severely. In the heat of summer they will provide a lovely canopy, but now they appear misshapen and distorted (to an American’s eyes). There is a fountain at the end of the plaza and on the opposite end is a bandstand. A few pigeons splash in the fountain. Around the plaza are numerous inviting cafes, bars and shops under an arcade. On summer days, no doubt, tables and chairs and people spill out into the main plaza.

2300 – Time for Bed
I am full of rich food and pleasant conversation and now it is time for me to sleep. What a luxury to have a room to myself. Though I will be up early and walking tomorrow, it is still a great pleasure to have a room to myself.

My friends here in Sahugun winded and dined me and made me feel comfortable. I laughed and enjoyed good conversation. I am grateful to them for being such gentle hosts.

It has been a delight to visit with friends today. It also reminds me of how lonely and physically demanding days on the pilgrimage can be. The contrast is stark.

I say a prayer of gratitude and turn out the light on another day in sunny Spain, a happy day spent among friends.

Ledigos - Wednesday, 13 May 2009

2009-06-24T13:13:00.006-06:00

Carrion de las Condes -> Ledigos = 24K (382K to go!)

Today I knocked out 24K. I had hoped to reach Terradillos de los Templarios, but stopped in Ledigos. The first 17-18K was long; no villages, flat and shadeless. I started walking at 0640, after breakfast in a local bar and arrived in Calzadilla de las Cuerza by 1000. I pressed on for another 6K and stopped at Ledigos, hoping to find tortilla. No tortilla available in this deserted, rural bar. As I sat there I realized my feet hurt and decided to simply call it a day and check in. I could simply relax and rest a bit and press on tomorrow. I called Mark and asked him to contact a Christian Science Practitioner for help me with my feet.

The terrain is flat, but challenges most pilgrims. Just before Ledigos I watched a grown man fall to his knees and weep at the pain he was experiencing in his legs. The sealed roads are as bad as the rocky ones.

The albergue is basic, a bit run down actually, but it is sunny and warm and birds are singing. I am fatigued I guess. I did not sleep well last night (I shared the room with a snorer/farter who also spent an hour in the middle of the night rummaging through his pack while wielding a flashlight and muttering to himself in French. He left the hallway door open when he banged around in the toilet adjacent to our room – not complaining, just observing!)

At 1500 I munched down the sandwich I made yesterday (turkey and cucumbers) and soaked up the sun a bit. I showered and washed my hair (using a bar of soap). The breeze is drying my hair.

Earlier I walked around town a bit…it is small. There are no shops. The only sounds are the chatter of wild birds, bees humming and the occasional crowing of a rooster who lives behind closed doors on the featureless Plaza Mayor. I can hear the prairie winds rush past my ears. It is so quiet here. Not a car on the streets nor any people. It is siesta time, but even in the evenings most of these tiny towns are devoid of life – like movie sets after the film crew has departed. They are like the small, dying towns in the heartland of the USA. The young people are long gone and only aged parents people these villages. Finally I hear a dog bark. No cats in evidence here and no flowers in this harsh small town.

I am hungry for a novel or good conversation.

It would be lovely to pace my walking in such a way that I could stop for a leisurely lunch at around 1400 and then continue walking later in the day. Unfortunately, the albergues fill up rapidly. So pilgrims tend to walk early (to avoid the heat) and to stop for the day at around 1300-1400. This leaves time for laundering clothes, journaling, getting supplies and dining.

I love walking early, under the setting moon watching the purple skies lighten and hearing birds starting their daily chorus. The first stop is at 0800 most days. I down a sweet café con leche and toast with butter and marmalade. I stop again for late breakfast at about 1000. By then I have walked about 4 hours (12-20K under my belt already). I am not in a hurry. I love moorings and I walk along briskly and happily most days.

It is hard to imagine walking through this region after 1300. The sun drains me and any humidity would make it even more challenging. How do the summer pilgrims survive?

I am, frankly, ready for a break. I am a bit worn out and tired of the 24/7 public nature of pilgrim life. I should check into a hostel and treat myself to some privacy and a day of leisure.

In just 19 days I will be in Madrid (or on my way there). I’ll begin my journey back to life – back from the setting sun.

I struck up conversation with a young couple from Finland. They are tired and angry with one another…chafing. They ask me to listen as they speak. They break up as I watch. She puts him in a taxi cab – it is like a scene from a “tele-novela” (soap opera). I spend the remainder of the day and evening listening to the young woman sorting out her feelings.

As I wearily crawl into my bunk, I hear the young woman, crouched in a corner, weeping forlornly as she whispers into her cell phone. What will the next chapter of their lives be like? Will I ever know?

Carrion de los Condes - Tuesday, 12 May 2009

2009-06-24T11:13:00.005-06:00

Boadilla de Camino -> Carrion de los Condes = 26.9K (405.1K to go!)

I am staying at Santa Clarisa’s (a monastery). There are only 3 people per room here. This can mean a more restful night’s sleep than places where 50 or more people share space.

The walking began at 0630 with the full moon riding on my shoulder. I dragged in here about 1145 – about 27K. My legs feel it, but will relax before long. My feet seem to feel every rock in the road – as if they are reading Braille.

I feel a blister forming (a hot spot) and no proper band aids – the materials available requite scissors so I must spend some cash on some small scissors and add them to my pack weight.

Today I bought sun protection – my face and hands are very brown now and there are lots of sunny days ahead. When I walk, I wear long pants and a long-sleeved (very light-weight) t-shirt to protect me from the sun. I also withdrew 200E from an ATM.

The next few days require long walks and few opportunities to get supplies, so I must plan accordingly. There are few villages and they do not always have store or bars. In the days of yore, pilgrims could find supplies. The advent of private vehicles has changed rural life and has an impact on the pilgrimage too.

Once again, I am the only native-English speaker in the albergue. I am achy and tired and inclined to feel a bit blue. Rain threatens and the other pilgrims, travelling in groups, seem indifferent to anyone outside their circle.

I took a nap on arrival and my third roommate barged in, talking loudly to a friend down the hall. He moved my pack and continued to carry on his loud conversation though clearly I was napping only a foot away from him. Roommate etiquette on the Camino – not good!

Post-aborted-nap I went shopping. I ran into pilgrims I have met before and shared a bottle of Valdepena wine (Tres Molinos, the table-wine we used to enjoy decades ago when we lived near Madrid – now it’s only 1.5E!) An older Spanish man stopped me on the bridge and shared a pilgrimage tale with me. I listened, nodding my head and just letting him talk.

I am now sitting in the setting sun, like a cat. I am in the ancient courtyard, sipping the last of the Valdepena, listening to birds settling down for the night. Classical music drifts out of the monastery. Across the courtyard French-speaking pilgrims chat.

I think about my own life. All of my adult life has been like a pilgrimage. I have moved so frequently – I meet people, engage and move on…never knowing for sure how I have influenced (or been influenced). Sometimes when I am away from home, I wake in the night, remembering home, but remembering the wrong place. In the dark I actually think: where is home?

The many languages I encounter here on the Camino make me think of the Tower of Babel. Each day I am reminded of what it means to give thanks for my daily bread (and my daily bed). As a pilgrim, I am always an outsider – sometimes included, often invisible. Language and customs and pain humble me. I am forced to reach out. I observe life and learn a lot about how NOT to be. I reach out as much as I can, but there are times (of course) when I wish someone would reach out to me.

I read the Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi (which I frequently consult as I walk). “…grant that I may not seek to be consoled as to console,…to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love…”

It is time to call it a day.

Boadilla de Camino - Monday, 11 May 2009

2009-06-24T11:05:00.005-06:00

Hontanas -> Boadilla de Camino = 28K (430K to go!)

Three weeks ago I boarded the plane from the USA and headed for Spain – and in three weeks I will be on my way from Santiago de Compostela to Madrid to catch my flight back to America and home.

I am, unfortunately, NOT halfway to Santiago yet.

I am, however, making rapid progress now. Today, my happy, healthy legs and feet carried me almost 30K. Tomorrow I will probably make 25K. One note in my guide says to bank BEFORE leaving Carrion de Condes – no banks for two days. The terrain on the meseta is flat farmland, few trees or villages. This time of year it is a beautiful green blanket, but I try to imagine walking it when the blanket is golden in the heat of summer. The vast meseta is like a green sea.

The long, slow climb up to the flat meseta was early in the day and rain threatened so I donned my bold, red poncho; climbing and sweating – it was a good workout. I maintain the same pace on climbs as I do on flatland. This is not true of most of the other pilgrims I observe. Perhaps I have some mountain goat genes!

Before arriving today, I met with a flock of sheep – they flooded around me as I stood in the middle of the path, delighting at my good fortune.

I arrived at this lovely private albergue about 1400, showered, washed and hung laundry, and downed a large, delicious bowl of café con leche. Rainclouds are moving in and threatening my wet laundry.

Tonight I will sleep on the bottom bunk (most nights I choose the top bunk). The bunks last night were extremely high and I had a hard time climbing into bed. I tore my walking trousers and my tote bag in the process. At 0600, I had an even more challenging time getting out of that bunk. Even an acrobat would have called it a challenge.

Most of the day I walked alone. I like to be alone with my thoughts. I did have nice interactions with a German woman who works in the department of monuments. I see her often on the path. She is an excellent walker and always looks so poised, confident and well-turned out. I also ran into B. (the Canadian guy who stayed at Rabe the night I was there) and the woman from Atlanta (who also stayed with us at Rabe).

Lightening is flashing and thunder is booming. The rain is pummeling the earth. Already the sidewalk outside the window looks like a river during flood season. We pilgrims are inside, sitting in the dark, thinking about the repercussions of all this rain. Half dry laundry is draped on bedposts. There will be wet clothes tomorrow and there will certainly be terrible mud to trudge through. And what if we are walking in such a storm? Miles from anything…lightening…

Eduardo, one of the albergue’s hospitaleros runs in. He is soaking wet, dripping on the floor, working to light the gas heater for us. Outside the lilac bushes bend to the ground – the wind makes everything bow and dance as it sings. The sweet smells of rain penetrate into the room. I am reminded of spring rainstorms back when I was a child in Iowa.

I seem to be the only native-English speaker in the room. The other pilgrims are Germans and Spaniards who are travelling in small groups. Somehow I feel almost invisible among them – lonely and alone in a crowd. They do not reach out to me or include me, nor do I make an effort to initiate a conversation. I have no book and sit here, trapped by the rain, whiling away the time until dinner (hours from now) by journaling and staring out the window.

Finally the rain lets up and a weak sun emerges from behind clouds. I set out to explore this empty, bleak little village. I have a nice photo-opp, but my recalcitrant camera fails me again (it is a battery operated digital – I wanted to avoid the charging challenges, but it seems to eat batteries faster than I can replace them!). A pleasant German woman strikes up a conversation.

Later we share the pilgrim meal. Across the table are two young firefighters from Galicia. We laughed and talked and sipped wine. Favorite movies came up and I was delighted when they indicated “Princess Bride” as a favorite. Later a retired Spanish Colonel joined our conversation. He served at Torrejon de Ardoz back in the 70’s when I lived there too. So we had much to talk about. The lively conversation and camaraderie was quite a contrast to the earlier isolation during the rainstorm.

The full moon shines down on me as I make my way to my bed. The end of another delightful day on the Camino.

Hontanas - Sunday, 10 May, 2009 (Mother's Day)

2009-06-24T09:41:00.008-06:00

Rabe de las Calzadas -> Hontanas = 19K (458K to go!)

The Albergue Door Opens and the Terror Begins!
If I had do-overs, I would surely make different choices concerning this albergue, but when M. (the hostess at this private albergue) initially snapped at me, I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

There is something to be said about people who are direct, I thought as I jumped up to respond to M.’s orders. And I like it when people are clear and direct. But I also expect people to be respectful of others, so when I heard M.’s sharp, demanding tone, I should have followed my gut feeling.

This woman is a bully.

And I would quickly learn that she has serious control issues.

B. and I later joked that M. was a fine example of the stereotypical controlling Catholic school director or perhaps a prison matron. I am generally the optimist and willing to give people a chance to prove themselves. I always find something good about people and rarely give into the urge to say unkind things. I am not a saint, but I do believe people generally act from their highest sense of right and people who know better, act better. So when I heard M.’s sharp tone I was fairly certain she was simply under temporary duress.

I was so wrong.

Throughout our entire stay, M. micro-managed every activity we undertook. She had many, many rules which she detailed to us during what could only be called an initial briefing. We sat for almost an hour while she asked each of us very personal questions and gave each of us unsolicited advice coupled with her own opinions.

Let me take a moment to interject a bit of information that may influence readers a bit: I am a retired US Air Force Master Sergeant. I went through a rigorous basic training and know what it is like to submit to a drill sergeant. I hope this information gives me some credibility when I say, this woman is like a drill sergeant gone amok!

I will refrain from detailing all the indignities we pilgrims submitted to during our stay at M.’s albergue. But not only was she a critical Cruella-deVille (101 Dalmatians), she also charged us for the privilege of being demeaned and demoralized! We paid 20E for a simple bed and a meal of lentils, accompanied by a lecture.

I cannot write about this experience in detail, because I will rant and digress.

Just trust me when I say, this was a terrible experience and I do not wish it on anyone.

[24 June 2009. I elected to NOT transcribe my detailed original notes on how we were treated at this albergue. It is still painful to relive the experience. VJP]

_____________________________
*The following is an excerpt from an e-mail I shared on a Camino newsgroup – I used some humor in my brief description of my experiences at M’s private albergue in [location deleted] but know that the experience was not amusing in the least. The 8 pilgrims who stayed that night were not treated with any dignity.

…Ahhhh yes, the prison matron of [name deleted].

Several times on my Camino I ran into my cellmates, er, I mean pilgrims who had shared accommodations with me on that dubious night and weeks later, they were still fuming and snorting and dealing with residual anger (and bitterness) about the experiences with the hostess (I use the term loosely). Her spouse, oddly enough, was a kindly man, filled with good humor and good stories...)

I should have known it would be bad when she initially grilled me ("Are you happy?" to which I responded, "Yes, I'm happy." She said, "You don't look happy!" I was inclined to stand up, salute and say "Yes Ma'am, I'm happy, Ma'am!" but, I refrained.) And she told me in no uncertain terms that I was not a pilgrim, but a tourist ("look at you bracelets and your long hair..these are not pilgrim ways!")

There were privacy violations (ie: she charged, with nary a knock, into the bathroom to micro-manage how one woman was managing her shower and lef tthe woman in tears!)

There was great concern about bedbugs so the woman had a very complicated system of bagging our things and lots of rules about how to conduct ourselves during our stay. One of my fellow inmates (oops, I mean travelers) broke into tear tears after a reprimand from this woman and ended up on the bench outside, sorting through her belongings. Later the woman berated one of the guests for not partaking of the wine -that individual was an AA member.

Interestingly enough, she wrote a few motivational words on my pilgrim credential.

I will share an extended version of my stay in my blog - I am slowly transcribing my notes so it will be a while. Suffice it to say, I would certainly not recommend staying at her lovely home...

Just a bit of my experience in [location deleted]... and I did not go into details because it is too painful to conjure up these memories.

Despite this, I say: life is good...

On the Road to Hontanas
I was on the road to Hantanas by 0630 and was a rabbit – the full moon was glorious. I walked fast. I was eager to put Rabe behind me.

I walked to San Bol, an isolated, oasis of an albergue with no electricity or running water. After mile after mile of green fields, the grove of trees at this small hippie-style albergue looks so inviting. I am still haunted by the treatment I received last night (M.’s albergue in Rabe), so it is a real delight to be treated so well here. A kind volunteer made me a cup of coffee and some toast (over an open flame and in candlelight).

Refreshed and glad to have met kind, warm people, I continue my walk to Hantanas. I walked with a wonderful Austrian man and shared stimulating conversation as we traversed the countryside. In Hontanas, we stopped for tortilla and café con leche in a charming bar on a small, crowded plaza. I decide to stay the night here.

The next few days will be through flat, hot countryside, so walking early and early stops are likely.

I am almost halfway through my magical 40 days.

As I write this I am seated on a sunny bench on the main road. Less than a foot away from me a group of curious German pilgrims stand, gaping at the ergonomic pen I am using. Do these Germans speak to me? No they stare and then speak to one another as if I am not even here. At first I do not realize it is the pen that they are puzzling over. Once I understand this, I initiate a dialogue about it. It is only then that they even speak to me.

Daylight is fading and this pilgrim is off to find an evening meal and maybe an Internet connection. It is Mother’s Day (in the USA – Spain celebrated last week!). Perhaps there will be a pleasant surprise in my inbox!

Rabe de las Calzadas - Saturday, 9 May 2009

2009-06-24T09:30:00.009-06:00

Burgos -> Rabe de las Calzadas = 11.4K (476K to go!)

1330 – On a Bench in Front of the Albergue in Rabe
No one in this lovely albergue (Burgos) was up before 0700! I’m sure it is in part due to the huge party that was going on outside our window. They were in still dancing and singing at 0500!

Last night, I limped around Burgos taking it all in. It is a beautiful city. There are many large plazas, crowded with families strolling about and sitting at outdoor tables talking. The children are all polished up and wearing lovely clothes. I found a ringside seat at a charming café on the plaza and sat sipping a light, cool white wine and eating crispy calamari (fried squid rings) while I took it all in. After people watching a while, I walked a bit and discovered a merry-go=round at a lovely park by the river. The area between the river and the cathedral is a maze of plazas, fountains and temptations (food, spirits and fashions!). I stopped outside the cathedral to watch a happy wedding party.

The women are so dressed up. And I am like a street person limping along (blisters and strained muscles) in my bedraggled walking clothes and flip flops – my hair flying and my face devoid of makeup. People stare. A little girl tugged on her father’s sleeve and eyed me suspiciously. The father looked at me and then pulled the child aside and quickly moved on. Is this is what it feels like to be homeless or to be a street person?

This morning, I lingered a bit in Burgos. I wanted to visit the lovely castle. It is only open on Saturdays so I was pleased to be there on a Saturday. My stiff legs balked a bit as I climbed the steep stairs up, up and up. I finally arrived, only to find the castle will not open for several hours. So, I elected to head out of town and forgo the castle visit. (Perhaps I should have just stayed a second night in Burgos.)

Walking in and out of cities takes a lot longer than simply walking the Camino across the countryside. There are so many opportunities to get lost. And of course I managed to add a few extra kilometers to my journey getting lost near a large park near the edge of town. So a late start, too much sun, sore feet and legs.

As I write this, I am sitting on a bench outside the albergue in tiny Rabe de las Calzadas. It looks charming and is adjacent to the local church. The albergue does not open until 1400.

A van just raced by, horn honking, and a guy jumped out, went to window next door, slid it open and thrust 2 loaves of unwrapped bread through. Home delivery…pretty casual, but there is no store in this town. This is how the locals get fresh bread. In the olden days there would have been a local panaderia (bakery) and small stores here. There would also, no doubt, have been a weekly open air market. These days though, people have cars and those who live in small villages must drive to the nearest city to do shopping. Just like in rural America – small towns are dying out. I hope I will find something for lunch/dinner and breakfast. I have only a Snicker bar and some M&Ms in my backpack. (I probably should have stayed a second night in Burgos to re-supply and rest!)

I stopped in here today, because my smallest toe has a large blister which I need to treat once I am inside this albergue. I plan to be up and walking tomorrow at 0600 so I can get 20K in by noon. . It is a 9K walk to the next village.

Another Pilgrim limped up. B. is a delightful Canadian man who stayed at the albergue in Villafranca when I was there. He had terrible blisters and allowed someone to administer first aid there. His feet are still sore and he plans to stay the night here too. He has a dry sense of humor and quite a wit.

Here we sit in the noonday sun waiting for the albergue to open.

[Little did we know what evil lurked behind that albergue door! vjp]

Burgos - Friday, 8 May 2009

2009-06-23T13:35:00.005-06:00

Villafranco -> Burgos = 40K (487K to go!)

I walked ten hours today. I can hardly believe I walked 40K!

The full moon was still dancing across the sky (about 0600) when I began the initial steep ascent up the Montes de Orca. It is a desolate 12K walk through oaks and conifers. Despite the trees, the path is not shaded. At the top (Alto de la Pedraja) is a cross commemorating those who died in the Spanish Civil War. I began my walk with R. but did not see her after the first hour or so of walking. I passed many pilgrims early on and then for most of the rest of the day, I saw no other pilgrims.

Walking felt good so I continued on. I felt exhilarated and filled with energy.

I decided to stop at Ages or Atapuerca (famous for prehistoric archaeological finds) and arrive in the city of Burgos on Saturday. Unfortunately, I inadvertently followed an alternate route which extended my walk by about 10K. By the time I realized my poor choice, I was too far along to go back.

So onward I trudged and made it into Burgos by about 1615. The 2 ½ hours (at day’s end) of walking around the airport and through industrial suburbs on concrete was very challenging both physically and mentally. I must admit, I felt like Wonder-Woman when I arrived at the beautiful new albergue in Burgos and the other pilgrims ooh-ed and aah-ed about my physical prowess!

I am too tired to seek out a meal – I will venture out later to eat and visit the cathedral. First a hot shower and a nap. I hope to stay in Burgos a while tomorrow and do some site-seeing. The castle perched above the city will be my first destination.

More later…

Friend Judy’s Inspirational Thoughts for my Day:

Below are a few excerpts from a chat with Elise Moore on spirituality .com. She was on a walking vacation in Mexico when she had a healing of a injury to her foot. She prayed with the Bible lesson:

Before I started to read, I was aware that I really needed a quick healing. This vacation was going to be a walking vacation, and so, as I was thinking about that, some negative thoughts began to crowd in. The sort of “what if” thoughts—and I didn’t even want to go that way.

…….. also from Science and Health, “Every step towards goodness…........is like a step towards God". And what that meant to me at that moment was, I wanted to have every step being a step more spiritual, a step toward the understanding of God and His presence and power, the understanding of divine Love.

I got up at that moment, and began walking down the beach. When I needed to, I would know that every step was toward God, toward divine Spirit, toward the power of Truth to heal. I was not going to agree with pain. As I stepped out across the road from the beach, I realized I was completely healed.

Villafranca de Orca - Thursday, 7 May

2009-06-23T13:30:00.007-06:00

Belorado -> Villafranca de Orca = 11.5K (526.4K to go!)

Last night in Belorado I attended mass and the pilgrim blessing. Afterwards the priest asked (in Spanish) for volunteers to help return the icons to their proper locations. They have been out since Easter celebrations. While I was trying to decipher his Spanish, almost everyone else disappeared. People hear the word volunteer and stop listening I guess! So, the priest took R, and me by the elbow and escorted us through the serpentine streets of Belodorado to another church where he put us to work.

We were late for the group meal at the albergue but it was OK. It was called a communal meal, but really we were simply all dining at the same time and seated at tables of four as in any dining room. The meal was good and ended with a digestivo (strong liqueur, like grappa, designed to help with digestion). Baskets were circulated so pilgrims could donate money for the meal.

After a breakfast of cold bread, butter, marmalade and weak café con leche, I walked through two (or three?) small villages. One village had only 48 residents. I walked many kilometers of un-shaded, rolling farmland ending in a scary walk along the edge of a very busy highway. Large trucks whipped by, honking and kicking up dirt. I was hot and sweaty so when I reached Villafranca de Montes de Orca I stopped for food and water. After consulting my papers, I decided to stop for the night. The next stretch of the Camino involved a steep climb and a walk of 12K to the next town (which has no stores!). One guide book describes the walk as “soul-less.” All of this at mid-day under the hot sun. Nope! I am staying the night!

Villafranca is named after the traders and others who repopulated this region during the reconquest (from the Moors). The community albergue in Villafranca is on an uninspiring (and dangerous) curve of a major road. It was a converted school. There are large windows and a nice view from the rear. The showers proved to have really hot water and room in the shower area to dress without being a dwarf with contortionist skills! I showered, did my laundry, and walked down to the only bar in town. Time for lunch. (Lunchtime in Spain is about 1400)

The bar is like a truck stop. The outside tables were flanked with about 20 big-rigs parked side-by-side. Pilgrims filled the table and sat in the dusty, parking lot passing the time. We watched local trucker downing wine and beer before they continue on the road. Familiar pilgrims faces pop up. Some people were slowed down by blisters, joints that failed, sunburn, etc. Others have picked up speed as they grow stronger. Some have learned to take buses and taxis or to ship their backpacks ahead. People play cards and while away the hours.

Most pilgrims were in bed before 9PM. The Snore-Corps (as R. named them) shared the room with us. These Spanish guys can really saw wood! They also like to keep the windows closed so once again, it was humid and hot.

Friend Judy’s Christian Science Thought for the Day:

Science & Health: 514:6
Mind, joyous in strength, dwells in the realm of Mind. Mind's infinite ideas run and disport themselves. In humility they climb the heights of holiness.

Belorado - Wednesday, 6 May 2009

2009-06-23T11:45:00.005-06:00

Granon -> Belorado = 16K (537.9K to go!)

1530 – Relaxing by the Pool!

I am lulled by the gentle sounds of hens caring for their babies. The albergue (run by Brazilians) has a carpet of green, inviting grass in the courtyard. There is also a swimming pool! The garden is flanked by a chicken yard. I face away from the German pilgrims drinking beer poolside and watch the chickens as well as a family of ranging rabbits.

Later I will shower and go explore the town, but for now, I sip Rioja wine (though I have left the Rioja region behind now and am in Castle-Leon) and consider moving to the pool to soak my feet in the cold, cold waters. The pool is in the sun so I linger in the shade and continue to enjoy the antics of the poultry and rabbits.

The walk today was good, but the sun was very hot. The terrain is like Nebraska or Iowa (I am from Iowa originally so I am a good judge of this and I hasten to note, this comparison is in NO way pejorative; it is merely descriptive). The countryside consists of rolling hills, farmland and there are few trees. R. and I had breakfast before leaving the albergue in Granon (rice, bread and coffee). Though we passed through three villages, there were no bars/cafes open so no bathroom breaks nor coffee breaks. We arrived, sweaty and hot, in Belorado around 1400. My current walking companion (R.) surrendered her large backpack to a van driver who drove it to this albergue. So, she did the last couple hours in the hot sun mostly unencumbered.

Last night in Granon the local church had a pilgrim mass. In a small village, the pilgrims comprise most of the people at the mass. In Granon, most of the village showed up. The priest gave us a warm blessing and then we went back to the albergue to share a communal meal for 40. I helped prepare baked apples and stayed up past “curfew” to dry dishes. The sit-down meal consisted of lentil soup, baked apples, egg salad, bread, wine and water. We set up tables and all sat around one of two tables to talk and eat together. Afterwards there were prayers in the church and each pilgrim read aloud and shared a story.

The house rule: don’t awaken before 0700 (breakfast at 0730) was violated by many pilgrims. Rustling bags and loud voices - people think they are being quiet and respectful, but they are not.

More later… I am off to clean up and to explore Belorado.

Granon - Tuesday, 5 May 2009

2009-06-23T11:37:00.007-06:00

Santo Domingo de la Calzada -> Granon = 6.5K (553.8K to go!)

0700 – Writing Over Vending-Machine Coffee con Leche

Last night a pair of lovely Dutch women invited me to share the meal they cooked in the albergue dining room. The women are dear friends and each year they meet to walk for two weeks on the Camino. They are delightful, laughing and joking, relaxed and enjoying their experiences. I am grateful to be included. They also share their meal with a pair of young Spanish firefighters (from Barcelona) who are also walking for just two weeks. I have little to add to their meal, but I offer up some Spanish sausage and wine and a loaf of bread. We eat and talk and laugh and sing for hours. It is a wonderful meal, but of course it is the companionship and not the food that matters.

It was kind of them to include me. One can feel quite lonely n a crowd, even among pilgrims. Language, customs, culture, concerns can all keep us isolated from one another. And at other times we reach out beyond our boundaries, borders and fears to make life easier for someone else. This is a lesson that may never be completely learned. One may need to keep working (throughout a lifetime) on the art of reaching out and selflessly sharing.

My American friend (R.) surprised me with a gift last night: a pastry chicken and 4 chocolate baby chicks. They are so clever and detailed. I laughed when I saw them. They are too cute - it is hard to eat them!

The albergue was an oven last night. I lay awake, drenched with sweat. The light in the hallway flashed on and off all night long as pilgrims made another kind of pilgrimage (to the toilets). It was like an old-fashioned neon sign. I felt like I was in one of those old black and white detective movies at the flea-bag hotel.

The accommodations are nice at the albergue, but it is an albergue and there are many people.

Twice, the man in the upper bunk next to mine sat up in the middle of the long night and screamed (in French) at the snorers. I have no idea what he said and do not know if he was sleep-talking or simply angry and reacting to the cacophony of snoring and snorting. And in the early morning hours there were pilgrims up and flashing their lights as well as talking in their outdoor voices.

As the room grew lighter I observed a sweet, rather private moment between a couple across the room. This very tall, hearty man from Israel (with waist-length dreadlocks) was tenderly kissing the vulnerable cheeks and neck of his fragile, flowerlike companion. He gently kissed her awake. I look away, feeling like a voyeur, but pleased to have such a lovely image to start my day with.

1400 – Soaking up the Sun in Granon
R. and I walked together. We arrived in lovely Granon early in the day (only about a 6K walk!) but I insisted we stop here. Pilgrims who stay at the albergue in this village sleep in the bell tower. The hospitaleros also arrange for a wonderful communal dinner.

There are albergues and there are albergues. Many are quite large and aim to be efficient while others are small and warm and strive to be effective. I have looked forward to staying here in this unique albergue in Granon. This place is on the favorites list of many veteran pilgrims.

We are the first to arrive. We climb up into the bell tower and unroll the mats they provide us. We are tucked under the eaves. Above, outside, the belltower is home to a stork family. In the sunny patio where I sit penning my notes, I can hear turtledoves coo and other birds chattering. The storks clatter their beaks. Roosters crow and a piece of farm equipment passes through the quiet streets. Spring flowers flourish and the perfume drifts through the village on spring breezes. Bees buzz, butterflies flit, and it feels as though time stands still for these few bright hours in the middle of the day. A grandfather stands tending a baby carriage as he talks to his friends, a kitten plays in the doorway across the street, a woman sings in her kitchen; life is good.

The mid-day siesta is alive here; a custom that might improve the quality of life of the world if we all adopted it. Even here on the Camino, many pilgrims rush around, and try to pack so much into each day. They wear themselves out and have no time to sit and be or to observe nature and people and the life unfolding around them The people in this village however, honor the joys of siesta.

I also like the rhythms of life here in Spain. People to gather in public place at 0800 or 1000 and again at 1700 each day. They come together throughout the day. They sip a drink and share.

From across the street, I hear an old man crying out. Is he angry or is he demented or suffering from Alzheimer’s. He asks questions over and over and makes demands. No one seems to answer. I wonder what his life is like. I wonder what it is like to grow old in this quiet village.

My thoughts are of simple pleasures: carving out a nest where I can enjoy the sunshine, a cat or two, fresh flowers, lunching under a tree (or under the stars). Time to read, time to walk the dog, time for “every purpose under heaven.” I imagine life in a light-filled space. I consider the house in South Carolina and wonder if I could build a quiet life there and simply happily-ever-after. Or is it merely inertia that draws me there. Or maybe I could initiate another adventure – build and run a guesthouse on my brother’s mountaintop in northern Malawi? A home and life in downtown Albuquerque or maybe a pleasant life in surprising Des Moines near family. Simple pleasures – libraries, churches, creative projects…baking bread to share with friends, building traditions, raising some chickens…a small business.

Life is good and filled with an abundance of delights. I am open to the delightful opportunities and I am not outlining or making rigid plans. But I am willing to commit and willing to serve. I will find that path as surely as I am finding the path that is the Camino.

Santo Domingo de la Calzada - Monday, 4 May 2009

2009-06-23T11:30:00.007-06:00

Azofra -> Santo Domingo de la Calzada = 15.5K (638K to go!)

The day never really dawned. I woke late and the grey skies gave no clue to what time it really was.

I made my way down the hall for the usual ablutions, and realized the albergue was empty of other pilgrims. It had the eerie feel of a schoolhouse in summer or a nightclub seen in the light of day.

This albergue provided pilgrims with some privacy. Instead of an open bay filled with bunks, pilgrims shared a small room, designed just for two. What a luxury to have a modicum of privacy and an escape from the usual symphony of snoring and farting and the pre-dawn rustling of plastic bags under the glow of annoying headlamps and flashlights.

I set out at 0840 as the grey skies morphed into mist and light rain. The temperature dropped. Ahead, I observed a pilgrim disappearing into a taxi cab. I plodded on up the sloping terrain, eager to find a bar for some hot café con leche. By 1215 I was in Santo Domingo de la Calzada. The one village I passed through had no bar so I was eager to find a dry, warm place to sip some coffee.

I wandered through the historic district, my red poncho the only splash of color on this dreary day. When I saw the albergue, I decided to stop and call it a day. The Spanish Confraternity runs this establishment with its large dining room and convenient location. It is large and modern and well maintained. I will share a room with about 28 other pilgrims. The grey, overcast sky and penetrating humidity takes its toll. I am sleepy, the room feels muggy and close and the bathroom is like a sauna.

This is the jubilee year of the town’s namesake and as luck would have it, there is a special mass today. St Dominic was an 11th century religious hermit and engineer who spent his life designing and building roads and bridges for pilgrims in this wilderness area on the banks of the Rio Oja (River Oja). His remains are housed in the cathedral.

The motto of Santo Domingo de la Calzada is: “Donde la gallina canto despues de asada.” (Where the hen crowed after being roasted.) So, I am especially eager to see the rooster and hen that are housed in the cathedral and play a significant role in the legends about this community.

The condensed version of the tale goes like this: a young pilgrim, travelling with his parents, spurned the advances of a local barmaid. Angered, the young woman hid some silver in the young man’s knapsack and then accused him of stealing from the tavern. Of course the evidence was there and the young man was marched to the gallows and hanged. The devastated, but devoted parents prayed earnestly to St James and knowing St James would support their innocent son, they proceeded on their pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, leaving their son strung up on the gallows.

The story does not end here. Once their pilgrimage was complete, the grieving parents return to Santo Domingo de la Calzada and find their son, still hanging and alive. Supporting him from under his feet is the saint. The parents run to the surly judge and ask him to release their innocent son. The judge, who was seated at lunch, scoffed and said if their son was innocent and still alive, the roasted chickens on his plate would stand up and crow. To his great surprise, the roasted chickens did just that! A miracle! St James protects travelers along the pilgrim route and this legend is testimony of that!

I visit the cathedral delight to hear the crowing chickens. Later, I visit the alternate chickens which are housed in the albergue where they wait for their 15-day rotation in the cathedral. I feed these birds bits of bread and feel lucky that they eat my offering. This is considered a good omen, by those who know about omens.

I mingle with other pilgrims and hear the inevitable gossip. About 6 of the pilgrims who I saw at the Azofra albergue last night have shipped their backpacks ahead. Foot and knee problems drive their decisions. My own knee is good now and my backpack (about 8 pounds) is light and not a burden. Some other pilgrims have checked into private hotels for the night rather than deal with the challenges of communal living in the albergue.

Friend Judy's Inspriational Thought for the Day:

HEAVENWARD

Christian Science Hymn 136 (This first verse has many "active" thoughts for May 4th.)

I love Thy way of freedom, Lord,

To serve Thee is my choice,

In Thy clear light of Truth I rise

And, listening for Thy voice,

I hear Thy promise old and new,

That bids all fear to cease:

My presence still shall go with thee

And I will give thee peace.

(This is a favorite of mine and I sing it frequently! - VJP)

Azofra - Sunday, 3 May 2009

2009-06-23T11:22:00.005-06:00

Ventosa -> Azofra = 18.5K (575.5K to go!)

The 300 people who live in Azofra are all in the small, neat town plaza sipping wine, snacking on wonderful tapas and talking. Music plays in the background. The Mayor splashes more Rioja (regional wine) into my glass and insists I try his wife’s special Jamon Serrano (salted ham). I am delighted to oblige. Then he thrusts a plate of salchicon and chorizo (sausages) my way and splashes still more Rioja into my glass.

The Mayor dazzles his constituency with his (seeming) command of English as he chats happily with R. and me. We nod our heads and listen attentively and do not let on that his English skills leave something to be desired. Everyone is dressed up. I feel a bit out of place in my pilgrim clothes, but the locals seem quite happy to have us there.

What a wonderful thing it is to participate in a local celebration. We certainly did not plan this adventure, but it is one of the serendipitous things that happen.

How did it happen?

R. and I walked into the village just as the church bells were ringing. R. said, “I’m going to see if I can go to mass – you head over to the albergue and see that we are in line for beds.” She went left, I went right. In a matter of moments a local man happily smiled at me and literally thrust a bottle of chilled wine into my hands. Quite the welcome!

The Fiesta de la Cruz, coincides with Spanish Mother’s Day this year. The locals certainly celebrated and generously included us in their party. It was a lovely end to our day’s walk.

We walked through Najera about 0900 and had breakfast at a bar near the river and resumed walking. As we approached the old city, it was hard to keep going. I was sorely tempted to stop and stay the night since a full blown Renaissance Faire was in the process of being set up. The medieval town is just the right atmosphere for such an event. Venders were setting up so I lingered, examining their wares and taking photos of the birds of prey and the armorers chainmail work.

Above, ciguenas (white storks) have built large nests atop every spire, chimney or tower in the vicinity. Their noise of their clattering beaks echoed through the narrow streets. The city was delightful.

R. and I walked on. We saw several pairs of abandoned leather boots on the steep climb beyond Najera. It was a beautiful walk and the weather was balmy and bright. We sang songs and laughed. I used my staff like a baton and did a little dancing and marching as we walked along.

The albergue is quite pleasant. Only 2 people per room! The patio is very nice too. There is a small fountain/pool where I soaked my feet in cool water.

The rhythms and routines of this life are getting easier. My feet are happy, but I may need insoles…walking on sealed roads is surprisingly hard on the feet.

Tomorrow, I hope to stay in Granon (to sleep in the bell tower). Or I may stop at Santo Domingo.

The moon is half-full.

Ventosa - Saturday, 2 May 2009

2009-06-23T11:14:00.005-06:00

Navarette -> Ventosa = 3.5K (593.5K to go!)

I walked with R. again today.

We stop for coffee and toast after about 2 hours. While we sip coffee, we confer and make a plan. We decide to stop here for the night to get away from the bad energy of the group of pilgrims we were likely to find ourselves with if we pressed on to Najera or points west. The albergue in Ventosa is small and is likely to be more pleasant than the large municipal albergue 10K down the road. This is also a holiday weekend in Spain so there are more Spanish pilgrims walking. This makes finding accommodations more challenging. And my knee is still tender. So a lazy day sounds good. (Note: this albergue and village was not included in the guide book I consulted yesterday.)

Ventosa, population 100, is quiet, though birdsong, dog-barking, and the sounds of people doing morning chores fills my ears as I sit writing on the bench in the tiny town plaza. Women are sweeping their stoops, wiping down their windowsills. A happy dog loped over to welcome me with a wagging tail and ears to scratch. Some older men are soaking up the sun across the plaza and a radio is playing in the distance. A tractor is parked here on the main street.

The windows, as in most Spanish towns, are filled with potted Geraniums – lovely splashes of pink and red. Fat little parakeets and cheerful canaries in their cages on the windowsills and terraces sing along with the wild birds.

Ventosa, according to the sign in the plaza was once famous for lechedors – people who raised suckling pigs. People came from far and wide to buy them. These days the main crops are cereals and Rioja wine grapes.

The town is so small, there is no permanent store. As I sit in the plaza a large truck pulls in, and parks, horn honking all the while. He opens the side and there is a meat and seafood selection. Customers can enter from the rear door and choose all kinds of fruits and vegetables, foods or cleaning supplies. It is very well stocked. It is fun to chat with the local housewives who stand in line to make their purchases and observe the crazy American woman who is gaping at the ingenious store on wheels.

Later R. and I check into the private albergue. It is very pleasant and the owners are very kind. We sit in the lovely, sun-splashed courtyard and sip wine as we get acquainted with the other pilgrims. There are Germans, French, Irish, Italians, and an 80 year old man from India. We climb the hill and linger over a pilgrim meal in a charming café before getting a good night’s sleep.

Judy’s uplifting thought for the day:
Mis 51:26-28 (to ")
"...And starting fresh, as from a second birth,
Man in the sunshine of the world's new spring,
Shall walk transparent like some holy thing."

Navarrete - Friday, 1 May 2009

2009-06-23T11:01:00.006-06:00

Logrono -> Navarrete = 13K (597K to go!)

Navarrete is charming. I feel as if I have stepped back in time. With all the shops closed and the people closeted away for siesta, the medieval character is really evident. The streets are cobbled and they wind around the curve of terrain like a maze or a labyrinth. I only logged 13K, but the town appeals to me and a look at the logistics of going further firm the deal for me (16K to Najera, the next community and no fountains or services before that.) So, a short day for me. Visions of a hot shower, time to wash my hair and the lure of a washing machine firm my resolve to stop here for the night.

I check in, handle my tasks and then wander around the town a bit. It is still siesta so I have the place to myself. I visit the local church. There are many pottery shops. Locals have used the red clay to ply a living since Roman times.

I find an open fruto-seco and splurge on some bacon which will go nicely with the tomatoes and bread and wine. A stop at the local bar to use the Internet and then its back to the albergue.

The weather has clouded up and rain is falling. Pilgrims scurry around to find a place to hang their wet laundry. Poor R! She used the washing machine to wash all her clothes and THEN discovered that the drier does not work.

The rain keeps us trapped indoors. I find a novel abandoned by another pilgrim and try to get interested in the science fiction story. I sit in the kitchen reading and eyeing the Asian family as they prepare dumplings from scratch. Cooking is a family endeavor. Later, they invite me to sample them.

A pilgrim sat down to eat and found himself crashing to the floor. The wobbly chair had collapsed under him. The hospitalero rushed in to assess the situation. He did not even offer the surprised pilgrim a word or a hand. He simply glared, then turned on his heel and returned to his desk by the door.

There is another American staying here. She is from Boston. I attempt to spark a conversation, but when I introduce myself and offer my hand, she drew back and simply looks at me for a moment. Then she turns away.

I return to my novel.

I am in bed by 9PM listening to the lullaby of snoring and farting that are becoming the background music of my sleeping hours. (Many people use ear plugs to avoid this stress. I am adjusting, but the volume and frequency of these nocturnal noises deserves comment!) One woman talks on her cell phone long after lights out.

Logrono - Thursday, 30 April 2009

2009-06-09T14:17:00.009-06:00

Viana -> Logrono = 7K (610K to go!)

The walk into Logrono charmed me. The inviting, cottage-like, adobe houses crowd onto the very edge of the road. Flowers spill out of window boxes, caged birds trill, cats wander in and out and doors are open. People sit on benches and watch the pilgrims pass by. The smell of soup wafts out on the spring breeze. I slow my pace, taking it all in.

I can’t help but think of the poem, The House by the Side of the Road. (Mother used to quote bits of it as she went about her work around the house. – the third stanza is most familiar to me.)

The House By the Side of the Road
By Sam Walter Foss

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by -
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban;
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears -
Both parts of an infinite plan;
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
And the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by -
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

As I walk, I stop at an open door and gaze in. The two women inside gesture and invite me in. They offer coffee and sweets. This is what they do. They invite pilgrims in. This is their daily offering, making strangers feel welcome, helping pilgrims who travel a long and sometimes lonely road to Santiago far away.

And it is not just people along the way who reach out to pilgrims. Each day, my friend Judy, back in the USA, e-mails a daily uplifting thought to me. Her sweet offerings are wonderful fuel for my thoughts as I walk along each day. I look forward to these thoughts.

It’s good to remember that I walk with Love (God) along the way (see below). These thoughts frame my experience and make it richer.

This thought is from the second verse of the CS Hymn 139:

Who walks with Love along the way?
Shall talk with Love and Love obey;
God's healing truth is free to all,
Our Father answers every call;
‘Tis He dispels the clouds of gray
That all may walk with Love today.

We are in Rioja now – the wine producing region of Spain. About 135,000 people live here. It seems large after all the tiny villages we have been walking through. We cross the Ebro River and find the bustling downtown area. Rese and I sit in an outdoor café and eat tortilla. I flirt with a bright-eyed 2-year old boy whose family smiles at us. He laughs when I share my quacking duck with him.

It rains on us in Logrono. Hard rain. Fortunately it is worst after we are already safe in our beds, but I did have to navigate my way home from dinner in the showers.

I was lucky enough to have an invitation to join the TV documentary film crew for dinner. The meal was truly gourmet event with the food prepared by the men in an elite gastronomical society. These men have met each Thursday for about 50 years.

The food was wonderful and I enjoyed a departure from the more Spartan life of a pilgrim. I felt like Cinderella as I scurried back to my albergue to beat the curfew – they lock the doors at about 2130 each night. Pilgrims who miss curfew are just out of luck.

I made it home and dreamed sweet dreams of rich, elegant food – not what pilgrims usually get to dine on.

Viana - Wednesday, 29 April 2009

2009-06-09T14:09:00.005-06:00

Los Arcos -> Viana = 19.5K (617.8K to go!)

I start my day feeding ducks outside the albergue. They seem to enjoy the cookies I share with them.

I continue to walk with Rese, though we spend the first few hours walking alone and later join forces again when we meet at a cemetery. We both take photos. Carved into the archway is this: “I was what you are. You will be what I am.”

From Sansol there is quite a panoramic view of Torres del Rio where there is an interesting octagonal church which is associated with the 12th Century Knights Templar.

We walk through a gorge which the guidebook calls: “Mule Killer Gulch” (Barranco Mataburros)- not exactly an optimistic name and as one might expect, the walk is quite challenging.

Logrono is only about 9K further (hidden by an odd mountain described as “flan-shaped”) but we elect to stop for the day in Viana, the last town in Navarre. It is a gem of stately old architecture. We wander around taking photos and watching people. I introduce Rese to Chocolate con churros. (An addiction for many people!)

I especially like the albergue’s courtyard with the panoramic views. I spend time there writing in my journal and soaking up the sun.

My knee is still troubling me. My CS friends (Judy and Deanie) kindly shared these helpful thoughts (Truths to cling to) with me (thank goodness for e-mail). I mentally worked with these thoughts today as I walked:

You live in the Spirit. You love in the Spirit. You walk in the Spirit.

Heb 4:12
For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.

S&H 423:8
The Christian Scientist, understanding scientifically that all is Mind, commences with mental causation, the truth of being, to destroy the error. This corrective is an alternative, reaching to every part of the human system. According to Scripture, it searches "the joints and marrow," and it restores the harmony of man.

Pan 13:18-21
Sooner or later all shall know Him, recognize the great truth that Spirit is infinite, and find life in Him in whom we do "live, and move, and have our being" — life in Life, all in All.

“I Refused to Put Pain in my Backpack” (The title of a CS article by Katie S. Brown)! I like this idea. I must be careful about the ideas I allow into my own thoughts, just as I am careful about what I put in my backpack.

Los Arcos - Tuesday, 28 April 2009

2009-06-09T14:03:00.005-06:00

Villamayor de Monjardin -> Los Arcos = 11.9K (635.8K to go!)

The guidebooks says carry plenty of water for this stretch of the road. . The elevation charts indicate a significant descent too.

The reality is, the path is not such a challenge. This kind of thing is not unusual in life is it? We hear rumors and have expectations, we anticipate and fret and then it is all for naught.

Rese and I continued to walk together and share stories. We also sang and laughed a lot. Her travel plans allow her to take a leisurely approach to her nightly destination. She basically travels from one village to the next. My schedule is more limited, but I am taking it a bit easy (my knee) for a few days. It is lovely to have a companionable person to share the adventure with for a while.

People say, on the Camino, you are never alone. It is true, you can always walk with someone, if you choose to, and you can also walk alone if you wish. At day’s end there are other pilgrims at the albergues so finding a companion is feasible.

We walk through wheat fields and asparagus crops and hills covered with conifers. It is lovely.

The municipal albergue in Los Arcos is large and efficient. It is just past the old town, near the river.

We spend some lazy, quiet afternoon hours soaking up the spring sun and resting our weary bodies in the lovely Plaza Mayor. The church dominates the plaza. It is a Romanesque style and there is a Gothic tower and cloister.

A French woman drives into the plaza with her team and sporting dog. I take photos and chat with her. I enjoy contact with the horses and the dog – I miss my own sweet dog.

We dine at a local restaurant where my main course on the pilgrim menu is translated as “Pig Face”. My dining companions laugh and after my meal is delivered they concur that perhaps it is not the face, but something considerable lower on the pig’s body.

Villamayor de Monjardin - Monday, 27 April 2009

2009-06-06T14:20:00.006-06:00

Estella -> Villamayor de Monjardin = 8K (647.7K to go!)

The sun (literally) shines down on me as I start my walk from Estella this morning. The rain is gone and everything is fresh and green in the crisp morning air.

I spend some time looking around before I leave town. Guidebooks call Estella "the Toledo of the north" because of the wealth of monuments the city has. The king of Navarre once had his palace here - it is said to be one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture on the Iberian peninsula.

Estella is the last city in the Navarre region. The Rioja region is ahead and Logrono is the next city on the pilgrim route. The terrain and character of the experience will change in the days ahead.

Before I actually leave town I meet some of the US film crew and other team members who are here in Spain filming a documentary of the Way of Saint James, el Camino. Theresa, the senior producer, rounds the corner and we recognize one another from our previous meeting a few months ago at the Gathering of American Pilgrims in Albuquerque, NM. There is hugging and conversation. Soon I find myself agreeing to be tailed by a film crew and to participate in an interview.

I limp along (the knee still hurts) beside another pilgrim (a sweet young Scotsman in full kilt) and the film crew follows behind.

A few kilometers up the road we arrive at the famed wine fountain at Irache (sponsored by the Bodegas Irache). We stop and sip red wine from the fountain.

The film crew sets up by the Visigothic Monastery of Santa Maria la Real and films an interview with me. I share my prayer ribbons which friends have given me to take to Santiago. I also have the opportunity to discuss my personal motivations for walking the Way of St James. I speak of my gratitude for a full rich life (despite the challenges of cancer, loss of a son, etc). I share stories about my parents with them. I even sang a little song ("I'm a pilgrim, I'm a stranger, I can tarry, I can tarry but a day...")

While I was signing the release forms, one of the team members thrust a cell phone on me and asked me to contact them later in the week for possible follow-up.

I laughed out loud just thinking about me having a cell phone on me! Anyone that knows me is aware of how resistant I am to having a cell phone in my life! While many pilgrims do carry cell phones, I am not among them. In fact, I am a bit of a Luddite about telephones in general. Even in the USA I avoid answering phones. I know my spouse will laugh loud and long when he hears I now have a cell phone (and charger) on my pilgrimage of gratitude!

With the diversion created by the film crew behind me, I begin my walk. A look st my plans confirmed that my delayed start would mean a change in my destination for the night. The stretch between Villamayor and Los Arcos is devoid of places to stop and no water is available for about 12K immediately following the steep climb up to Villamayor. And my leg was still aching.

I walked through a beautiful oak forest with a fairytale view of castle-topped Monjardin in the distance. I stopped to look at the 13th century fuente de los Moros below the ruins of the Roman-based Castillo de Deyo. I played with an adorable kitten as I rested in a small village square.

After the long climb up to Villamayor, I decided to stop at the parochial albergue rather than the Dutch-run facility further up the hill. The albergue was pretty basic (matresses on the floor) and ran on donations.

I met a delightful American woman there (Rese) and spent a wonderful evening sharing stories over dinner at the small local bar. Later we met another American, from San Francisco. We shared our evening meal in the tiny local bar and had a lovely time getting acquainted.

At dinner we were offered the local digestive as a gift at the close of our pilgrim meal. Orujo is the name of this drink. It is green, there are herbs in it and it is quite strong. It has a deceptive effect on most of us. The joke among us became this: do not drink green stuff!

Finding our way back to the albergue, we giggled like school girls.

All in all though, it was a fine end to a lovely day.

Estella - Sunday, 26 April 2009

2009-06-06T13:43:00.009-06:00

Puente la Reina -> Estella = 22.4K (656.6K to go!)

I slog through thick mud as I climb up a steep hill, only to face another muddy challenge.

As I walk, I make mental lists of all the things I am grateful for. I sing all the inspiring Christian Science hymns and reflect on all the healing truths I've learned.

The rain is intermittent, the day is cold. And my knee aches. I struggle to keep up with my delightful walking companions.

I remain cheerful and pleasant. I absorb the beautiful countryside around me and stay engaged, but it is a struggle today.

This is a character-building experience. A spiritual being having a very physical experience.

I walk on the dirt path past vineyards, olive trees, and fresh green grains springing up to the sky. There are fields of asparagus. I pass through the medieval village of Ciruqui. The name makes me laugh a nervous laugh - in Basque it means "nest of vipers". The paths are actually covered with large black slugs and many snails. I am grateful to find no real vipers along the path.

I continue soldiering on past cypress trees that flank a 2,000 year old Roman bridge. I recall reading a horror-story extracted from an old pilgrims guide that tells of some French pilgrims who met their death and lost their horses in a violent incident when some wicked Navarese men tricked them. Blood and gore - not a happy tale.

Later in the day, I give my 2 young friends "permission" to simply move on. I walk on alone. I walk very slowly down the steps, over the wooden bridge and down the long last slope into Estella. My knee hurts. I weep a bit. I feel old and broken.

At the albergue in Estella, I am grateful to find a bed and I am grateful to find a pair of English-speaking angels who share a pilgrim meal with me. My spirits lift over a meal and conversation. The 3 of us share common histories of military careers and working with students (13-18) in leadership and development programs. We sip wine and I almost forget my aching knee.

The sun comes out on the walk back to the albergue.

I am grateful that tomorrow will be another day.

Puente La Reina - Saturday, 25 April 2009

2009-06-06T13:02:00.007-06:00

Cizur Menor -> Puente la Reina = 20.4K (679.9K to go!)

I am a jackrabbit today. I lope up the ascent quickly. It is a thrill to climb and the rhythm of my own pace feels good. My walking companions are far behind me as I stand at the peak of Alto de Perdon and take in the spectacular view.

The weather has changed. True to the forecast the day is overcast and cold. Rain threatens. At the peak, the wind is strong. The dark sky provides drama and suits the huge metal pilgrim sculpture that dominates this space. The piece consists of enormous silhouettes of pilgrims parading across the mountaintop, heading westward to Santiago.

I zip up my fleece and pull my silk socks over my hands (in lieu of gloves). I attempt to take a photo, but once again my camera batteries are depleted. So much for collecting photographic reminders of my travels today.

I began the walk down the other side of the mountain. Today is the day I discover that walking down a steep slope can be more challenging than the exhilarating climb up to the eak. My left knee begins to speak to me as I walk beside a delightful French-speaking Canadian. I take smaller steps and try to walk off the sensation.

We stopped at a bar to sip cafe con leche and to warm up. My leg really began to talk then, so I rested for a while. As I waited, my Spanish walking companions of the day before arrived. Their pace is more leisurely and my knee could use a rest so, I elected to move forward with them. During the next 10K I was forced to stop at a pharmacy to purchase a knee bandage.

I went from rabbit to turtle. Is this what it is like to be old?

We walked on and went through the small town of Obanos, where the Navarre and Aragon camino routes merge. We continued on to the town of Puente la Reina (literally queen's bridge). The rain began to fall. My knee ached. I was grateful to stop atthe albergue and call it a day.

We ate the pilgrim's menu at a local bar (asparagus, veal cutlets, chocolate mousse, wine, and bread) and watched a party of youngsters at the next table. The adults were seated at a separate table and the enthusiastic children (ages 3-10) were rambunctious and rowdy. The adults seemed oblivious of their behavior and the children reveled in their activities. I found it refreshing to be among people who seem to allow children to simply be children. There were no threats or dirty looks from cross parents as there most likely would be among a group of people from the USA.

The rainy day wound down with me accomplishing the mundane daily chores of pilgrim life: showering, laundry, errands (an ATM and batteries). This albergue is large - about 75 beds, but divided into small rooms with about 6-10 per room. (FYI: one of my roommates is a horseman - his gear smelled of horse lineament and sweat. I would like to have seen his horse.)

I fall asleep despite the snoring and the musty smells of wet laundry. Rain splashes on the window and matches my mood - will my knee recover overnight?

Cizur Menor - Friday, 24 April 2009

2009-06-06T11:53:00.008-06:00

Trinidad de Arre -> Cizur Menor = 8K (702.7K to go!)

So many observations I want to share, but by days-end the words and images escape me. Yes, I should stop and write throughout the day. But stopping means losing flow. I strive to stay in the moment, live in the now...so my journal suffers. I report rather than paint with words nor do I explore (on paper) the rich ideas that fill my head each day. My journals are without the inspiration and the enlightenment, but the experience is not.

Just like at home, on this pilrgrimage, I rise early each day and prepare to walk. At home though, I simply get up, stretch, pull on my dog-walking clothes and sneak out the door before sunrise. Watching sunrise with my sweetie-dog, the lovely Miss Zia is a fine start to any day (I miss her AND I miss the beloved-spouse, who snores away as I am off dog-walking each morning.)

Here in Spain, in the dark albergue,I am among the first to rise. In the dark quietly grab my things and head for the common area where I can pack. Other pilgrims are less discrete and do their packing on their bunk, among those who are still trying to sleep. They rustle plastic bags and use headlights. They seem oblivious to how disturbing they are.

Everyone must be out of the albergue by 0800, but at 0600, most pilgrims are still trying to catch another 40 winks before a long day of walking.

By 0700, I have devoured a few breakfast cookies and sipped a cafe con leche from the machine at the albergue. I hit the streets and follow the yellow arrows. I fall into step with 2 young Spanish women (Bella and Lucia work at McDonald's in Barcelona and are on a 2 week break). They are witty and full of fun. I enjoy practicing my Spanish and they also enjoy practising their English skills. We giggle and laugh as we walk along.

The first hour or so we walk through three villages (about 5K) without ever leaving the urban area. Beautiful Pamplona has absorbed them as it grew. The old city walls and parkland that marked the entrance to the city look wonderful in the early morning sun. We stop for photo opps and look like tourists rather than pilgrims.

We enter Pamplona proper just as the business day starts: butano trucks roar by, construction workers are hard at work, bread is being delivered to local bars, workers smoke and hurry off to their offices - the narrow streets are busy and crowded.

We stop for breakfast at a busy bar. As we take off our packs and prepare to order we hear greetings from several familiar pilgrims who were sipping coffee already, pilgrims we had met in Roncesvalles, just a few days ago. Funny how we all found the same bar. We pose for photos and swap stories and eat wonderful pastries. All the pilgrims seem to have business: sightseeing, making various purchases, finding Internet centers and visiting the pharmacy to get blister treatments.

Blisters. Yes, the cast of characters at the bar included many blister-suffering pilgrims (my friend Mikey, the young Danish woman, included). So we make plans to meet later in the day at an albergue down the road in Cizur Menor. We will cook a communal meal there and deal with our feet.

Our decision to stop at Cizur Menor will also allow us to avoid walking up the steep climb up to Alto de Perdon under the blazing, mid-day sun (about 80 degrees F and no shade). The walk down the other side would also be grueling. By staying in Cizur Menor, we can begin our ascent in the cool morning hours. The forecast for Saturday is for overcast skies and maybe a little rain.

So my Friday went by walking through the lovely, ancient streets of Pamplona, the city made famous by Hemmingway in his tales about the running of the bulls. Being in Pamplona brought back many happy memories for me - my family and I have been among the revelers at San Fermin several times. I can close my eyes and almost conjure up the smell of the bulls and the image of them safe in their enclave at the start of the run where they are deposited the night before each run.

The albergue in Cizur Menor is a delight. The garden, about 2 acres of grass, has a large pond with many large turtles and fish. There are lilacs, tulips, iris, a riot of spring plants sending out delicious perfume. Cats (cagey creatures, but curious) eye us. A dozen pilgrims soak up the sun, read, talk and soak their tired feet.

The hospitalero is busy doing magic on the blisters of one pilgrim after another. She might as well open a clinic. The line of limping patients is long. (One customer is the sweet German physician, Hanns, whom I met on Day I - the man who abandoned his leather boots on the mountaintop).

Later several of us gather in the communal kitchen and prepare a pleasant, simple meal. We sit talking as the sun sets and then, like chickens, we find our roost for the night. (In this albergue, the roosters roost in one room and the hens are in another.)

I can smell the sweet scent of lilacs as I drift off to sleep. All is well with the world.

Trinidad de Arre - Thursday, 23 April 2009

2009-06-05T15:31:00.011-06:00

Zubiri -> Trinidad de Arre = 17K (703K to go!)

I cross over the Zabaldika bridge and see the 16th Century monastery perched on the riverbanks in Trinidad de Arre and I know I want to linger here. My walking companions decide to continue on to Pamplona, so we part company. I check into the lovely albergue (the monastery serves as a pilgrim place!)and spend some delightful hours in the flower-carpeted courtyard before I call it a night.

Of course I have a list of tasks to accomplish before I can catch some much needed sleep. After a long day of walking in the hot sun I need to buy batteries for the camera, find a phone card, buy some snacks for the next days walk, find Internet, wash out my clothes, shower and find a meal. The simple life is not always simple.

I am worn out. The walk from Zubiri was lovely, but more demanding than I expected. The elevation maps indicated a fairly flat walk, but the terrain was hilly. The mild humor among the pilgrims was "aren't you glad we are walking on flat terrain today?!" There were valleys, mud, streams to ford, a long detour up a mountain in the blazing sun. But the villages I pass through are beautiful. Spring flowers decorate the land and old Roman bridges and other architectural elements make a picturesque panorama, enhanced by the prolific sheep, goats, horses, cats and dogs. (FYI: One French pilgrim was bitten by a dog as he walked through the forest - the same dog had befriended me, even licked my hand.)

The village of Larrasoana has lovley ruins - a monastery and hospital. I see a pilgrim lingering in the shade, reading and resting in this lovely place. People are fishing. I cross the Puente de los Bandidos (bridge of the bandits) where pilgrims used to fear they would be robbed. These days it is merely a beautiful site on an ancient path.

I stop at a small bar to breakfast on toast and cafe con leche. Outside the door, among the pilgrim backpacks stacked along the wall, is an adorable little puppy. I play with the little guy and soon the owner arrives and I learn the dog's tale.

This little guy had been wrapped up in a plastic bag and thrown in a dumpster to die. The good pilgrim discovered him and rescued the little brown dog.

This is all good and well, but having a dog on the Camino raises significant problems. Dogs are not allowed in most accommodations on the pilgrim path. This particular pilgrim is walking home from Santiago, retracing his long journey east and north along the Camino after initially walking all the way to Santiago. Since he took on the pup, he sleeps outdoors or relies on the kindness of strangers to meet the needs created by the rescued dog.

Following breakfast I put on my pack and walk alone. Pilgrims frequently walk alone for long stretches of the day and intermittently join others to walk and talk for a bit. It is a lovely mix of time alone and camaraderie. "Spaces in our togetherness" as Kahlil Gibrahn words it.

As I walk along the river today, a Knight Templar with the red cross emblazoned on his garb appears astride a horse. These men patrol the area, making sure pilgrims are safe. I also met with a pair of Guardia Civil on motorcycles patrolling another stretch of the Way.

I hope to see the young women I had met (Mikey, from Denmark)on the bus to Roncesvalles. I have not seen her since early today when she stopped along the path to rest her bruised and aching toes. She has already developed some serious blisters. I wonder if the Guardia Civil or the Knight Templar may have come to her aid.

Day is done. And I am comfortable in my digs for the night. My lovely accomodations in this hostoric monastery cost only 6 Euros and the pilgrim dinner is 7.5 Euros.

The pilgrim meals usually consist of three course (salad, meat or fish, dessert, bread and bottle of wine...yes, a bottle!). In Spain, dinner is usually not available until after 9PM, but pilgrims receive their meals much earlier in most places. Staying in an albergue also means being locked in at 9 or 10 PM. Early to bed and early to rise is the rule of life on the Camino.

The monastery is lovely, tranquil. The people I have met here are delightful. One of them celebrated his 40th birthday today - his gift to himself was meeting a special challenge: he walked the 40 kilometers from Roncesvalles to Trinidad de Arre in one day. My legs ache just thinking of walking 40 kilometers in on day, especially over such rough terrain. Pilgrims gather to help celebrate the man's birthday and his achievement.

Faces are becoming familiar, friendships are developing. There is some lovely magic in the air.

I fall asleep breathing the sweet smell of flowers from the courtyard.

I am another day closer to Santiago de Compsotela. It still seems like a very long way to walk. I will do it, one step at a time.

Zubiri - Wednesday, 22 April 2009

2009-06-05T12:44:00.013-06:00

Roncesvalles -> Zubiri = 21.5K (727.1K to go!)

I stood there staring at the abandoned leather boots hung on a tree branch adjacent to the rocky mountain path I had been walking on all morning. Why would anyone abandon such beautiful boots? I was forced out of my reverie by the sound of a team of energetic bikers pedaling up the steep slope behind me. I jumped out of their way and before I could regain my composure these hardy riders had disappeared down the trail.

This is my first day of walking and by midday, I already feel as if I have been on the Camino a long time. The learning curve is steep and the demands are challenging. But at that moment, I paused and scanned the horizon, taking in all the green beauty of the remote mountains, breathing in the scent of conifers and spring flowers and hearing the delightful sounds of sheep on the hillside. The bleating sheep and their tinkling bells never fail to soothe me.

Once again I was knocked out of my reverie, this time by someone calling to me. "Hey, are you "Ginn"? The one from the pilgrim forum?"

Here I am in an isolated mountaintop in a foreign country and someone recognizes me!

What a crazy life this pilgrim adventure is! "Yes, I'm Ginn," I answered as I turned to see just who was posing the question.

"I though so," said a young woman. "I heard you talking to someone earlier and you mentioned recruiting. I put two and two together and figured out it might be you."

I have been frequenting many Online pilgrim forums during my months of dreaming and preparing for my Camino. I guess it should be no surprise that someone on the Camino may intuit who I am.

I laughed and fell into step with this woman from Denmark. We immediately began an intense discussion centered on the boots I had been observing.

The boots were not the only abandoned property I had observed on the road so far. Many pilgrims over-estimate how much they are willing to carry and what they will actually need. The first few days of the trip become a time of serious purging. Pilgrims stop in villages, seek out the post office and reluctantly mail home unneeded possessions. Others simply leave them behind, like the pioneers of yore, leaving a trail of personal items behind them. Some stubborn pilgrims cling to their things, staggering under the excess weight and suffer from joint and foot problems as they make their way to Santiago. Letting go becomes a significant theme.

My own backpack is quite small. I have only a light-weight down sleeping bag, a pair of flip flops, a change of clothes, a change of smart-wool socks, a fleece, an excellent rain coat that covers my pack and a few toiletries and a battery operated camera (no charger needed). I did not even bring a towel - I plan to use my several bandannas to dry off post-shower. I do not have a guide book either - I will follow the arrows, use the Internet and consult others to make my decisions regarding the route and places to stay. I have little else really. My backpack itself is a 31Liter bag and weighs only about a pound. My pack and possessions weigh very little. I hardly feel it on my back.

My first day is proving to be quite a workout. I find myself saying a prayer of gratitude that I have a light load on my back. The day started early. Some pilgrims awoke at 0430! They rustled their bags as they packed and their headlights sometimes glared into my eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to get a little more sleep. It was too dark and foggy out to begin walking just yet. Most of the pilgrims waited till around 0600 to get out of bed.

By 0700 most of us were on the road. It was still dark and the fog was intense. I stopped to take the traditional photo marking the mileage from Roncesvalles to Santiago. About 5K down the road (about an hour's walk)I stopped for coffee con leche and toast. Spanish breakfast (desayuno) is light and it is sometimes hard to find a place open. First breakfast in Spain is usually around 0800 and second breakfast is served around 1000. I remember this from my days at Torrejon Air Base. I love having two breakfasts each day!

I walked with 3 other pilgrims (peregrinos) most of the day - a Spanish man and his wife from UK and a German man. They have walked the Camino before. I was glad to walk with veterans. I have much to learn.

Early in the day we slogged through some serious mud. The mud clings to our walking shoes, making our feet heavy and awkward. I feel like I am wearing clown shoes! You slide around and frequently get mired down.

Manolo, my Spanish walking companion, wandered into the woods and emerged with a gift for me, one I would treasure for the entire trip: a beechwood walking stick of my very own! I had intended to buy one, but had delayed making a decision on what kind and how many. I have never walked with a stick before, but it certainly became evident how useful a stick is when navigating through slimy mud and manure on a mountainside.

"Your stick is tall now," Manolo said, "But, when you reach Santiago, it will be much shorter!" We laughed.

We walked on, fording streams. My thoughts focused on walking, but occasionally images of Hemingway popped into my head. This is Hemingway country for sure (Burgete). I also thought of the tales of Charlemagne and of Roland, blowing his horn in the forest.

Pamela (Manolo's UK wife) and Joe (the German) and I sometimes sing. We are not good, but we are enthusiastic. We sing Rogers and Hammerstein songs. And of course we sang "Climb Every Mountain" from "Sound of Music"!

The villages in these mountains are picturesque - clean, quiet, with window boxes and shutters painted in bold reds and blues. There are flowers everywhere. There is a small, lovely charming black and white kitten hitching a ride in blue cart filled with golden hay.

The walking is sweet, but after hours of it, I grow tired. I am ready to stop when we arrive in Zubiri. I stay in a utilitarian municipal albergue (6 Euro for my bed and 11 Euro for a pilgrim meal). The bathrooms are in a separate building from the open-bay, unisex barracks (16-20 bunks per room) where we will sleep. The showers provide no privacy - 6 shower heads in the woman's shower area with the men's shower area adjacent. And there is really no where to hang clothes while one is showering. Logistical challenges.

Upon arrival I washed my mud splashed trousers and cleaned up my shoes. No washer or dryers here.

It is, however, very clean.

The albergue I stayed in last night in Roncesvalles is quite a contrast to this spartan place. The Roncesvalles albergue is run by a Dutch confraternity. It has a lovely ambiance (see the photo in my previous post) which they enhance by playing classical music to waken us in the morning. They provide clean pillows and offere us use of a washer and dryer. The showers are private and there is Internet. The facility is beautiful (in a historic building) with dramatic chandeliers hanging from the arches above. (6 Euros for bed and 9 Euros for a pilgrim meal).

In Zubiri, I meet another American, a woman from California. She is travelling with her twin 10 year-old boys. I try to imagine the logistics involved in this undertaking.

Among others staying in the albergue are a woman from Poland, a Scotsman, many Germans, some Japanese, some Koreans, several Danes and a bunch of Spanish men travelling by bike. Many people, and each here for reasons of their own. And so many of them already working on their feet - blisters from the day's walk!

The lights go out early in albergues. In fact, most of the weary pilgrims are in bed before sunset. I sleep well on my top bunk. There may be snoring, but I don't hear it tonight.

Roncevalles, Getting There - Monday, 20 April 2009

2009-06-05T10:43:00.014-06:00

USA -> Roncesvalles = Lots of Kilometers!

I start this day in Santa Fe, NM (USA), long before sunrise. At 0330 I climb into the car of a dear friend who volunteered to chauffeur me to the Albuquerque airport. I am already overstimulated; the result of a Sunday afternoon "Buen Camino" open house hosted by my sweet spouse who piled the table high with delicious Spanish tapas and fueled us all with powerful sangria. So I am loggy from lack of sleep and overstimulated from the delightful party.

This morning I am overdosing on caffeine as the car rockets down the mountain to the airport. I am as excited as a 6-year-old going to my very own birthday party!

My walking adventure in sunny Spain is about to begin. But first I must make it through the long travel day. My amazingly inexpensive flight to Madrid involves a trade off; I must change planes in Philadelphia and then catch an overnight flight to Madrid. Once there I will catch a bus to Pamplona and then catch another bus to Roncesvalles. I have many hours ahead - hours of practicing patience. I am eager to strap on my pack and let the walking begin.

My travels today bring pleasant conversations with interesting and generous people. A young woman gave me a couple magazines to read on the plane and in the course of conversation shared her story with me, a story that involves big decisions and courage. I listen happily, grateful for the diversions. I am so excited.

I board the plane and the cheerful flight attendant laughs when I introduce her to my tiny travel companion (Ed, a small, yellow, duckie flashlight who quacks and almost always wins me a smile - he rides on the strap of my backpack and is one of the only really frivolous/impractical things I carry with me on this adventure.) The flight attendant reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small set of wings. She plants them on my lapel.

The flight is uneventful, but my seatmate is intriguing. We talk and laugh. We discuss books and life. She vows to mail me the book she is currently reading - a small gift in my mailbox when I return home in 40 days.

I arrive in Madrid early in the day. The airport is so familiar to me (we lived in Spain, years ago, for almost a decade). I hear the familiar sounds of Castillian-Spanish and sigh a happy sigh. There is a sense of coming home. I quickly find a taxi-cab and we wend our way through the morning commuters to the bus station on Avenieda de America. The taxi driver points out all the new buildings that have sprung up over the past 15 years.

At the bus station, I meet another kindred spirit. This lovely Spanish woman engages me in a long conversation about art, children, life, death...despite neither of us being fluent in the other's language.

Finally, at midday on Tuesday, I am on the bus enroute to Pamplona. I peer out the windows and view so many old familiar landmarks as the bus heads north. There are restaurants we once dined at, a glimpse of the now defunct Air Force Base at Torrejon de Ardoz, the familiar university town of Alcala de Henares, and the road to Zaragoza. So many memories of day trips with my family so many years ago. I am absorbed in this connection with the past. There is really a sense of coming home.

The bus ride is a delight, but frankly, I am hungry. Somehow all my travel connections have been tight and the opportunities to eat escaped me. So my first mission when I arrived in the handsome city of Pamplona was to seek out a bar for an order of tortilla espanol and a glass of Rioja wine.

When I return to the bus station, I see many people with backpacks and walking sticks. They may be pilgrims. I follow a pair of them to the ticket window and listen as they make their transaction. Sure enough, they are travelling to Roncesvalles.

Ticket in hand, I settle down in the bus station cafe and indulge in a wonderful cafe con leche and laugh a bit when I observe that the TV is airing an episode of National Geographic. Why do I laugh? Because the topic is bulls - and here I am in Pamplona, made famous by Hemingway for their San Fermin festivities: the running of the bulls!

It is time to boarrd the bus for Roncevalles. This is the last leg of my pre-liminary journey. Tomorrow, I will begin the walk, the long walk down the mountain and across northern Spain.

As the bus winds up the mountain road, I listen to the varied languages my fellow travels are speaking - there are about 15 pilgrims on the bus and I count about 8 different languages among them.

We begin to get acquainted. Fellow pilgrims seem to think I am French - this has happened several times during my travels today. When I announce that I am from the USA, people seem surprised. Almost without fail the conversation turns to our new President. Mr. Obama seems pretty popular among Europeans!

It is almost dark when we finally disembark in beautiful Roncesvalles and enter the registration office at the stately mountain albergue. The hospitaleros (attendents, frequently volunteers, who manage the pilgrim facilities along the Camino) are practised and quickly issue pilgrim passports and assign beds. They are efficient and kind as they spell out the schedule and the rules of the establishment. We have the opportunity to attend a pilgrim mass and then we share a meal together.

Among the new pilgrims are also pilgrims who have already walked the first leg of their Camino. They began at St Jean Pied de Port at 200 meters and climbed to 1,400 meters. The last 7 of the 27 kilometer walks was actually an almost vertical descent from 1,400 meters down to 950 meters! They also dealt with inclement weather - cold rain, mixed with snow, fog, slippery mud.

The new pilgrims are in awe of these more experienced pilgrims. The experienced pilgrims seem a bit shell-shocked actually. They are also very tired.

We climb into our bunk beds, much like tired children and despite a lot of snoring, most of us fall asleep quickly. It is Tuesday night, and between travel and time changes, I have been up and in constant motion since 0330 on Monday - way too many hours. Though I am fatigued, I am overstimulated. I find it hard to sleep. I am like a child on Christmas Eve. I snuggle into my sleeping bag and try to dream my way into sleep.

Tomorrow is the start of the real adventure. It all seems a bit surreal.

...And Give Us Our Daily BED...Home at Last!

2009-06-04T08:14:00.003-06:00

Yes, this pilgrim is at home at last! There's no place like home (as Dorothy says, in "The Wizard of Oz".)

After (about) 40 days of waking up in a different bed every day, I am so very grateful to be home again at last. It is also quite wonderful to wake to the sound of birdsong. On the Camino, one does NOT need an alarm clock since many of the early risers are up and about in the dark, pre-dawn hours, under the glow of a headlamp, organizing their possessions for the long daily trek - all those rustling plastic bags and the stage whispers and banging doors are a fact of life and an opportunity for a pilgrim to consider what the phrase "character-building" means.

So, this morning, at home in my happy nest, I luxuriate in clean sheets, quiet, and the joys of sharing life with with my loving spouse and our beloved pet. After six weeks of living a very public life (with people 24/7) it is a delight to really relax. After so many days of dealing with ambiguity and the challenges of accomplishing the simplest of things (finding a bed, a meal, washing clothes by hand, communicating in a variety of languages and across cultural boundaries, etc)I find myself being very thankful for the gift of a home.

In the next few days, I will transcribe my Camino notes and post my observations and ruminations here. The hamster-wheel in my head is spinning wildly as I contemplate and process the experiences of the last weeks.

Stay tuned...

"Ginn"
Back in Sunny Santa Fe

Notes From The Spouse that got left behind

2009-05-12T22:36:00.000-06:00

Hello all
I am the spouse that got left behind and I have gathered all of the notes Virginia has sent out and I decided that I should post them for her. There will be some editing for the mushy stuff and the typing errors but you will get most of it. The dates listed are based on the dates I received the e-mail not the dates sent. Since I get the notes on two different e-mail servers some times it is one day on my main server and a day later on the other. I tried to put them in order but if I make a mistake remember it is my mistake and not Virginia's.

4/20 Virginia left this morning from Santa Fe at 4:30 am.

4/21 Hello ... I am in Roncevalles and getting ready to go to mass...and dinner...I have been travelling the whole time ' it is about 7 pm here and we just arrived and got assigned a bed...beautiful area, lovely place to stay... having trouble with his keyboard so won't be on long

It has been wonderful to see the old places and (I am ssssooooo grateful to be here...hope to write more...maybe later...can't quite figure out the screen or the keyboard...

4/22 Dear Mark
I am checked in at the Alburque in Zubiru (sp?) and waiting to find something to snack on .dinner won't be till around 8 and it is about 4 now. I walked about 22 kilometers over the beautiful mountains today '''started at about 7 AM and got here about 2.. Grrreeeeat weather! I am enjoying the interesting people and managed well with my pack today. We did have a long stretch of mud where I slipped and slid a lot... There are many sheep and lovely cows and he hillsides are covered with flowers and really green carpets of grass. Tomorrow evening I expect to be in Pamplona and hope to get a calling card there... I seem to have the settings goofed up on the camera - it is making a video I think

Well, my Euro is about gone so I will tell you I wish you could share this crazy adventure with me...it is wonderful so far...walking should be easier and after today I should have a bit more time to organize and get stuff done...last night I was wiped out and had to deal with lots of people in he Alburque...tonight the place has only a dozen or so beds...

In Sunny Spain
4/24 Gooood Morning Mark,
I am in Pamplona at the library and will walk only a short distance today. I have not received any email from you yet...I hope you are receiving mine! I miss you and wish you could be here to share this adventure with me. Of course it would not be the same adventure then would it

(Can´t find question mark on this key board!)

Tomorrow I will not have Internet because we will be in a tiny village. In the morning we will ascend a steep pass. We are avoiding the pass in the sunny, hot afternoon and will do it tomorrow. So perhaps tomorrow night I will have internet again. I bought a phone card and will try to call sometime today or tomorrow.

I will not dally here. Today I am walking with a couple young women from Barcelona so my Spanish is improving or at least my ability to mimic Spanish. They are agreeable young women and are very helpful. Everyone is very helpful...they are respectful of pilgrims. My walk yesterday was lovely, but hard. Midday, I felt a bit ill and uncomfortable, but kept going and it passed. My muscles are not aching and my feet are fine. Yay! There are other pilgrims (including strong young men) who already have painful blisters and knee issues...

4/26/0 Hello Spouse,

I am checked into a large Alburgue in Estella after a long slow day walking about 25k. 5 of it because I missed a turn, in the town, no less! My knee gave me pain most of the day and as day progressed, I slowed down significantly. Finally I was walking alone and hobbled into town at about 6. It has been rainy and windy off and on all day so my poncho got a work out. I managed to get money from the account and ran into the guy who gave me the "loan"...paid him back and have my greenbacks back in custody. I walked most of the day with the young Spanish women I mentioned before...but I think they were kind of glad to be done with me. So here I will meet new people perhaps. We shall see how my leg is tomorrow ...I may stay an extra day if I need to and not walk...a little healing time. That will mean a hostel or other accommodation that does not kick people out after a one night stay. This place costs 5E and has breakfast (unusual!) for only 1.5 E.

I am going to head out for dinner so I can get back before curfew...will write more later....

4/26/09 Hello!

I am back from dinner - soon they will lock up the door and a few minutes later turn out the light...very strange being in a dormitory and sharing facilities and hearing all the snoring and all he different languages. Since I was soooo late arriving I did not launder my clothes so I guess I will wear them again tomorrow. We shall see how the leg feels tomorrow - there is a Red Cross place here that cares for Pilgrims so I will consult with them.

I dined with a Canadian Chaplain and his journalism and photography teacher ... they are from BC and we have much in common...great stories from them and we ate Turkish food because it is Sunday and no place is open and of course it was far to early for a Spanish place to be open, I HOPE to have a shower with hot water before I crash after my challenging day...I am using a bandanna as a towel...have not yet washed my hair...all very glamorous information eh,,,,

This is challenging, humbling, also exhilarating and such a unique experience - interesting to watch people learn and grow...

The countryside is beautiful...amazing terrain... I have walked over several mountains...when I look back at where I walked it is a bit amazing...but a car could cover the distance in no time at all!

I am heading off to bed...hope to call soon...I am getting a better understanding of the routines and so on. It takes a lot of energy to accomplish the most basic things and dealing with language and cultures....sooo many people from all over the world...it is wonderful....

4/27/09 Hello!

I am just sitting down to lunch...will talk later...short walking day and met the film crew for the documentary...staying at a church run Alburgue tonight...on a mountaintop...beautiful weather...lovely day ...happy, happy, happy!

4/27 It is evening in this small village on a mountaintop. Tomorrow I will walk 12 K to the next town and then, no farther....I hope my knees are happy. I think my decision to stop was wise...

It is a lovely area...I am happy to relax a bit and let my leg heal...

I find myself thinking about how you would enjoy the place....

I will shower and be in bed by 9 and maybe up and walking by 8AM...

You would love this walking...wish YOU were here....

I imagine the dogs are happy to have you organizing their time...

I will write more tomorrow. It is good just to stop and do nothing...Tomorrow I will go on and hopefully my leg will NOT talk to me too much! Even with my knee pain... I am happy to be here...The recording crew (did I mention them?) Will connect with me later this week...the PBS documentary...

4/28 Almost time to turn out the lights...still limping along...only 12k today...leg feeling a bit better, hope to walk farther tomorrow. I am in Los Arcos...beautiful old church lovely river through town center...Belgian-run Alburgue. Stunning scenery today...can't type much because lights go out in a few moments.

How ARE YOU AND miss zia DOING?

Saw A WOMAN DRIVING A CART today...two lovely horses and a B&W dog trotting along beside the wagon. They are from France...

SO MANY INTERESTING PEOPLE, GREAT STORIES...TIME ESCAPES ME.

4/29/09 Hello!

It is Saturday night and I am in Puente La Reina. It is about one day west of Pamplona, if you are looking art a map. Yesterday I walked with some Spanish women, youngish) who work at McDonald's in Barcelona. They are very kind and have keen senses of humor. We stopped at the first village past Pamplona yesterday to avoid scaling the peak at Alto de Perdon in the hot afternoon sun. Bella, one of my companions, suffered from blisters. We ended up in a really lovely Alburgue with a turtle pond and lots of gorgeous flowers. Several of us cooked a meal...many of my companions had to have their blisters treated there...it was like a hospital waiting room. My feet are fine. Today I walked alone most of the way up the hill, then walked down with a French-Canadian who speaks no Spanish. It was cold today and overcast...very cold at the top of the ascent. Yesterday was 28! Quite a change! On the decent, my knee began acting up...so I had a farmacia experience - a bandage and ibuprofen...maybe just a tendonitis kind of thing. I walked 23 kilometers today-. The Spanish women caught up with me and we are now sharing a room for 6 in a large Albugue.

Spain is beautiful in spring and the people I meet are wonderful...I am so grateful to be here and wish you could share the experience.

I will try the bank today...I had to borrow 50 Euros from a German (one of the blister-suffering people who cooked with us last night)...actually I gave him $30 USA and will probably see him again later to gave him Euros... Anyway, I should be able to manage better now that I am in a routine...today the Alburgue was only 5 Euros and pilgrim menu only 8.9 so coffee and toast and a few snacks made up my other expenses...

Sorry to be so boring about my descriptions...I will be more forthcoming on stories later. Last night the Internet experience was frustrating. I bought a phone card and intend to try calling sometime...probably on your cell phone...maybe tonight. I do not see to have the access code for the USA so we shall see. Not many people from USA here...very strange to hear all the mixture of languages.

I will send this now and see if I can find another Euro to buy more time....I hope I have no trouble getting cash tomorrow (Sunday)...

4/29 Hello Mark,
I have arrived in Viana (near Logrono) only have enough coins to talk for 15 minutes...sigh. I am tired and need to find food and rest a bit. Just wanted to let you know I'm fine...long walk today and beautiful weather. The Alburgue is an old building in city center...lovely. 6 Euros and triple bunks!

Never seem to have much time on the Internet - one computer, many pilgrims and different specific coins required so I never have the correct change!

No notes from you...sigh. I wish you were here to share this with me. Today I walked from 0800-3 PM took a break at 10AM only. Climbed over several peaks...poppies and lots of wild flowers in bloom...

My leg is better, but still aches a bit. I may have a blister on one toe cuz I put my wet feet into sandals and had no socks on...

4/29 It is 8PM now...there is a mass at church, but I am here. The Alburgue is in the old town...very lovely with great views. The city of Logrono is in the distance and mountains flank the view. I will walk there tomorrow and meet the film crew. This weekend is a Spanish holiday so we are advised to find accommodations very early...I think the practitioner is doing good work. My knee is good...got a small blister on my right foot though...but I managed the 20 K alright with no real stops.

The weather has been perfect - bright, but not hot enough to cause sweat. The terrain changes frequently - we walked through a mule-killer ditch today...lots of rocks and climbs and descents... My friend Reese cooked a meal for me tonight and our Danish roomies from last night (older couple) shared the table with us. Nice to chat and hear why people are doing this walk. Spain is so beautiful...

Well, dear Spouse.you would enjoy this town. I sat in he square watching children play, had some churros y chocolate... nice. I seem to get to translate stuff for Germans, Dutch and French...funny huh!?!

4/29 Hello!

Thank you so much for your prayerful support as I make my way across Spain. Today I felt strong and much more comfortable than I did yesterday and the day before. The Internet connection I have here in sunny Spain is running out (about 2 more minutes) but I will contact you again with more details...for now, know that I am very grateful for your prayer and thoughts. Please continue on my behalf.

Life is so good...and better because of people like you...

I am signing off now and may connect again Thursday evening from Logrono...

"Ginn"
In Sunny Spain

4/29
Hallo!
I am in Vinana (near Logrono) enjoying a wonderful sunset after a 20 kilometer trek up and down mountains! Tomorrow I plan to go only to Logrono and then make further plans. Life is good....The knee is better! Yay!

4/30 Hello,

I was the first to check into the Alburgue here in Logrono. It is a lovely old city in Rioja and I look forward to exploring a bit. My knee is better. I may pick up my pace after today...though it is quite nice to only go 10-14 K and then stop, explore, relax a bit. You would like this town - makes me think a little of Ukraine.

Tomorrow is the beginning of a holiday weekend here in Spain...expect to see lots of Spaniards walking and beds filling up fast at the Alburgues.

Well, I am off t find lunch...

4/30
No note from you...sigh...

I had a wonderful evening ...had the chance to eat the coking at a men's gastronomical society here ...langoustinos and white asparagus...you would love this place. The film team invited me...but I had to leave mid-meal cuz the Alburgue closes at 10...time to turn off the computer...off to bed...hope to hear from YOU tomorrow night ...planning a 20 k walk...maybe...rainy...

5/1 HELLO!

Another short walking day. I think my knee pain has relented this afternoon. The walk was through a lovely park by a reservoir and up around a mountain...The town (whose name I have forgotten actually) is small (1200 people) and has medieval ruins about. It is good to have a nice shower and wash clothes in a washing machine. Most days have been rather rushed. Many of the pilgrims arise soooo early and set out before sunrise. They do not seem to look around much. They seem concerned about how many miles they cover rather than taking in the people and culture. My days are not exciting...tranquil and I simply walk. No rest stops - walking 3 hours or so and stopping for coffee and setting out again. Tonight I hope to cook a meal in the Alburgue. I have been walking with Reese, a woman from Oregon. I may outpace her tomorrow though...we shall SEE.

Today is a Spanish holiday (Friday) and two more holidays follow so things are closed. I am taking photos but cannot share them from the Internet systems I have access to. I deposit a Euro for 15 minutes and the time flies...There is no place to download photos, so you will have to wait.

Logrono, the city I stayed in last night was lovely...but we had rain and today is cloudy and cold...good for walking, but not for the end of the day look around in the villages.

I know you would enjoy seeing the countryside and how things have changed. I am glad to be here, but wish you could share it too.

5/3 Hola!
It is afternoon, about 4...therei s a queue to use the Internet. People arrive, shower, wash clothes, us Internet and find food...basics of life during this adventure. There is a festival today (Fiesta de la Cruz)...and it is also Mother´s Day here. Reese and I walked from 0700 till about 1200 - the terrain is wine country with snow covered mountains in the distance. We sang Moriah and other folk songs...beautiful blue skies and gentle temperatures. The hills are steep and so many of the paths are quite challenging - glad we are not dealing with mud we had earlier in the week when it was rainy!

Poor Miss Zia must feel a bit abandoned. I stop to pet every dog I see and every cat too. Spaniards are seemingly doing well in the EEC. Many have fancy small dogs to walk about. We walked from the tiny village of about 100 (can't recall the name just now) and had late breakfast in Najeers...they were preparing for a medieval festival there...it would have been fun to linger, but the day was fine and my knee feeling better so we continued on to the smaller town of Afsora (I can't actually recall the name of this village of 320). I was greeted by a local who thrust a bottle of chilled wine in my hands when I entered the village! Such hospitality. Later they had tapas in the square and I sipped wine with the mayor!

Tomorrow I may try to get to Granon (to sleep in the church tower) or I may stop in Santo Domingo (story about the chickens )...

Well, I must stop as my 20 minutes has almost elapsed...minutes seem shorter when you pay for them.

I hope your day is going better than the one you described!

5/3 Well, I checked my e-mail...no notes from you. I am finished with dinner and will shower and be in bed almost before the sun goes down. Crazy schedule and crazy life. Tomorrow will be a long walk most likely. Sometimes I walk alone and sometimes I am walking with others. Always interesting.

Beautiful weather and lovely interactions...you would enjoy much of this...maybe we can have a short trip here and "do" a little of the Camino someday so you will have a taste of this adventure!

I love you and like to hear what you are thinking. Maybe I will have Internet tomorrow...only 2 minutes remaining so I will close for now!

5/4 Hello Tiger,
Drizzle today - slowed me down a bit so I am Santa Domingo, in the Spanish Confraternity Alburgue. It is just meters from the cathedral in the old historic part of the city. This year marks a jubilee celebration of Santo Domingo so there are special masses, etc. This is the cathedral that houses the two chickens in remembrance of the old pilgrim tale regarding a boy who was framed by a wench and hanged, but was rescued by angels. The mayor was asked to cut him down and give him a reprieve, but he laughed and said that was a s likely as the chicken he was dining on singing and dancing...which they promptly did, much to his astonishment.

I am tired...it is damp and cold and the Alburgue is muggy and full. I feel restless. Wishing I had a novel or a private place to nap. Some of the pilgrims this morning sent their backpacks ahead by taxi (knees and foot problems) and one pilgrim took a cab. My pack is comfortable and not heavy. My knee is feeling pretty good. Walking non-stop for 4 hours is tiring, especially in wind, mist and up and down hills. There will be days ahead when I must walk 7-8 hours and where getting supplies is challenging - no stores, no villages, no fountains...plan ahead...

5/6 Hello Mark,

I spent five minutes scrolling through e-mail, but no notes from you. Quite a let down. I am always happier when I have a note from you. Last night I slept in the bell tower in Ganon...very fun place. Cold showers only and a community dinner and mass. Storks on the roof...most enjoyable. Today I hiked across Nebraska or Iowa or even parts of South Dakota...that is what it looked like and the sun was harsh. Hiked from 0800 straight till about 2...not servicios to be found! I am now installed in a 5 Euro a night Alburgue in Belerado. The next few days will be more flat, hot walks and at an altitude. This area used to be where robbers assaulted pilgrims. Not many places to stop or get supplies.

There was no Internet in Granon.

There are chickens in the yard next door...I will go out on the patio, sip some wine and makes some notes about the day and then get a shower. I am eager for a hot shower...and a little privacy and or space in the shower rooms.

I will try to get on the Internet later tonight and find any notes you may send. There is only one terminal and it is a euro for 20 minutes....

5/6 Hello - Glad to find this note buried in the boring e-mail.

It seems hard to get up and out of the Alburgues...but they boot you out early so everyone races to be out the door. The problem is many pilgrims get up and fumble around in the dark or with headlights to get their packs stuffed and ready to go so no one can sleep. And yes the snoring is a nuisance. And lights and people rising to use the toilet. I try to stay in smaller places with fewer people. Sometime they put 6-8 beds in a room so it is a bit better. Today I must walk through the bathroom (co-ed) to reach my sleeping room. I have the top bunk and it is situated right next to the neighboring bunk...I am not too pleased with that arrangement! But is is typical.

The clock on my Internet is almost on zero so I will sign off now...

5/7 Hello!

Just 4 minutes left of my Euro...Today I met a Polish journalists...he took photos of me and my walking stick and ribbons....fun to speak Russian to him. Lots of interesting people here and also some people who seem quite rude or oblivious to others. Some seem to think this is a race!

I am keeping some notes on things here and taking photos. The camera seems to eat batteries so I am frequently replacing them. Not sure when the card will be full. Need to look into buying a card I guess. Just getting the daily stuff done is work. I sleep pretty hard at night, but with many people sharing quarters there is much noise, flashlights and farting...lovely...crazy...cheap at least!

Well, I will send now and e-mail again...maybe later tonight. (It is about 3:30 PM here now) Life is good....

5/7

I walk along singing all the songs I can remember - strange how many words I have forgotten. I make up words about pilgrims though. I also use my walking stick like a baton sometimes ad twirl it about or like a rifle and do cadences. I will be in sunny, treeless places for the next week I guess. I could be in Burgos in a day, but probably two. I will climb tomorrow and stay at an old town that has no store...a monastery at the peak. The town I am at today is a burg of little importance or character. The guidebook calls the walk "soul-less". The trucks on the highway come fast and furiously...not fun walking. I finally had a really nice, hot shower in a space where I had room to get dressed again with any grace. The shower areas are cramped and challenging - no hooks or shelves. The bag we bought at REI is coming in VERY handy!

I hope to get up and out of here very early tomorrow and get some kilometers under my belt before the sun kicks in. Hard to imagine this adventure in July or August with all the heat and the crowds!

Went to mass last night - the priest corralled a few of us to help put the icons back in the church (post Easter)...it was interesting. The Alburgue had a flock of chickens in the yard adjacent to the garden so I sat watching the poultry and rabbits and their young until the almost-full moon came out and it was time to crawl into bed.

5/8 Hello!

It is Friday evening, about 9 here in Burgos. Yes, I made it to Burgos. I am Wonder Woman - walked 40 kilometers today and over two high assents and down again too! I walked alone and started at 0600 and arrived at this lovely Alburgue at about 1615. My smallest toe has a huuuuuge blister that needs to be burst...sigh. My legs are stiff. I wonder how I will feel tomorrow. I did not intend to walk so far, but I missed a sign and ended up on an alternative route which took me up to a great view and a labyrinth with a cross at the peak. By the time I realized my error, I did not see a reason to back track, but perhaps I should have. I ended up going through 3 villages with not even a bar and then trekked across the industrial suburbs and downtown of Burgos...

The meseta - it actually begins tomorrow. The land I have walked across is not as barren or flat as what is ahead. I have not been using sunscreen, but wearing long sleeves, long pants and a hat. My hands are very brown and so is my face. People think I am Mexican or Italian now. I may buy and umbrella for the 90 or so kilometers of meseta. I plan to begin at 0600 and stop before the midday heat kicks in. Hard to imagine people doing this stretch in summer months.

Burgos is wonderful. I sat at a cafe and dined on calamari and sipped a nice white wine. Later another pilgrim woman sat with me and we had coffee. She is from Finland and quite interesting...good conversation. All around us crowds of Spanish families sipped coffee or beer or wine and watched their children play in the plazas. There is a merry go round by the river and just sooooo many beautiful places to feast the eyes on. There is a castle which I hope to see tomorrow - hope I feel more like walking then. (It is easier to walk in my boots than in my sandals.)

Well, I am glad to hear from you...I wish you could be here experiencing this with me. It is rather strange to see all these people doing this walk...why do pilgrims do this? There are not real answers, but there are many people doing it. I hope my photos come out...I take many ...need to buy another card and more batteries...

I am off to bed, hoping the snoring and such are not too bad tonight.

5/10
Here I am on Mother's Day in Hontanas ¿sp?...I am at the Internet in the local bar...very slow, but nice to find you note to me. The hard part about stopping is that there is idle time but I am tired and in a small village there is little to see anyway. I will be in bed by 8 probably. It is five now and the rain threatens making sitting on the bench less fun.

5/10 Happy Mother's Day

I am in a village west of Burgos and typing on a funny Spanish keyboard so disregard the typos and off punctuation please. The Camino goes well...a very strange experience that challenges me and also allows me to observe life in wonderful ways. I am walking across terrain like Iowa and Nebraska now so I started at 0630 under the setting moon today and avoided the harsh midday sun. I walk about 20 kilometers most days, but Friday I walked 40K and amazed myself - it was in the mountains so was challenging terrain. Even the flat, high plains offer challenges to walkers...my feet feel the stones...sigh.

I seldom get much time online so am not keeping up on e-mail...just posting to Mark and occasionally adding a status update on Facebook.

I just wanted to wish you a happy Mother's Day...Life is good..."Ginn"
In Spain, Under Rain Clouds and Done Walking for the Day

5/10 Hello!

No note from you and lines behind me waiting for Internet...Just want you to know where I am - Boadilla del Camino...small village after 30 K over treeless, hot prairie and a hard, long climb. Tomorrow I will try to get to a town about 25K away and will take money out because there are 2-3 days of walking where banking is not an option.

Three weeks left...moving pretty fast now...life is good...but, I miss you very much....

That brings us up to date. I did not get a note tonight and I will try to update on a more regular basis from now on.

Making My List, Checking it Twice...

2009-04-16T10:12:00.005-06:00

I am sipping coffee (see my most-appropriate mug in the photo!) on this fine Thursday morning. I am also happily compiling bits of Camino information into my sturdy yellow-paged notebook, the notebooks that will travel with me for my 40 days of walking.

When I originally developed schemes for making this Camino adventure a reality, I had planned to have days and days to accomplish this pleasant task. I had planned to spend Jan-mid-April as a lady of liesure. But human plans frequently go awry or are discarded in the face of unexpected events. I ended up spending the last few months "pinch-hitting" at the office where I was formerly a VISTA. I was needed, in the absence of someone who had a family emergency. Thus my dreams of leisurely hours to plot and plan and consider all the myriad details of my trip, were reduced significantly.

So in the end, here I am, just days before departure, planning my tentative itinerary.

Of course it will be fine. I am not one who ever rigidly follows a plan. Planning is just an illusion of control.

Planning is a pleasant occupation and I recommend it as a mind-expanding exercise. It is like a mental exploration, an opportunity to determine what is really important and of value. Implementing the plan is not half as important as the planning. So, while my planning has taken a backseat to life, I am happily planning now. Tuesday was my last day in the rat-race of office demands.

I hope to post a tentative itinerary and my modest packing list. I have read so many Camino packing lists and itineraries over the past year and they never fail to move me.

I love to think of each individual as they make the hundreds of small decisions that lead up to their ultimate packing list. It is even more delightful to see post-Camino packing lists with a lessons-learned narrative included. The "what would I do differently" issue.

Perusing itineraries is engaging too. I read recommendations and mentally file them away.

I suspect, I will happily mull over all the recommendations and opinions I have garnered and then, I will follow my heart as I make my daily decisions on how far to walk, where to stay. This is kind of how I have lived my life - observing people, asking questions, considering opinions and then following my own heart and frequently making my own path or setting my own pace.

So check back later for a post that includes a packing list (with weights) and perhaps a list of potential stopping places.

Today I shall enjoy the planning and the coffee (in my cheerful Espana cup!).

Next Thursday, I may well be trekking my way down the Pyrenees and on my way into Pamplona.

We shall see!

Some Random Thoughts...

2009-04-16T10:09:00.003-06:00

What I Know for Sure…

I am going to walk the Camino – about 500 miles across northern Spain. I am going alone. I will carry all my things on my own back. I have allowed 40 days. Each day, I will move (forward). Each day, I will see the world around me and give conscious thanks for the abundance and beauty around me and for the gifts that so frequently go unnoticed in the work-a-day world. I will spiritualize my thinking. I will be letting go of mortal illusions that blind me to the Truth.

What I Wonder…

When I return from my pilgrimage, what will others have done with their 40 days? While I am moving forward, making conscious steps, what will friends, family, associates do with their precious 40 days?

Are people trapped by routine or is it fear, is it complacency, inertia?

And who will I be? Will I have changed? Will I really have moved forward?

Good Friday Pilgrimage to Chimayo...

2009-04-11T15:03:00.011-06:00

Each year on Good Friday about 30,000 people make the pilgrimage to Chimayo, a small historic mountain village about an hour north of Santa Fe, NM. They come for a variety of reasons and they make their trip on foot. These pilgrims converge on a tiny church in the village and pay their respects, ask for healing or give thanks. Many come away with small bags or bottle filled with holy dirt they collect from a sacred spot within the church. The area is littered with abandoned braces, canes, walkers, orthopedic shoes. There are bouquets of flowers left as offerings and icons of saints, crosses made of every imaginable material.

I did not walk to Chimayo. Instead, a friend and I set up a table and distributed water to the pilgrims as they passed by us on their long walk to Chimayo. Many walked over 100 miles, others started closer to Chimayo and logged only 10 or 20 miles. There were old people and there were babies and small children, people on horseback and others walking with the aid of companions supporting them. A wandering troubadour stopped and serenaded us for a while. Many began their walk at midnight and trekked through the dark night to arrive at dawn. Others walked through the heat of the day. Some were pious, some filled with laughter.

It is gratifying to see these pilgrims. As they pass or stop to sip water, they thank us for being there. But I find myself thanking them, for showing me their faith, for living their faith.

Soon, I will be walking my own pilgrimage, a different pilgrimage - the 500 mile walk to Santiago de Compostella. But on this Good Friday, I was happy to simply be a spectator. I was happy to simply offer a cool drink to those who were on a mission.

Life is good...

A Bon Voyage Party in the Works...

2009-04-08T10:18:00.006-06:00

My sweet spouse is conjuring up a "Bon Voyage" party for me. The day before I depart for my 6 week adventures along the Camino, I will be enjoying farewells and friendship. He is a thoughtful man, my husband.

Though it is his function (he'll handle all the food and arrangements), I am sure I will have some cleaning and preparing for the open-house. It will be a fine diversion since I can think of little other than my impending trip. I depart in about 10 days! Yay!

Hosting a party is a bit of an aberration for us. We have not lived in Santa Fe long so we have few associates or friends really nor are we by nature very social people. We tend to spend our time together doing simple things: gardening, reading, walking our dog, writing or working on the computers. In recent years we have really become quiet home-bodies in many ways.

Our work with AmeriCorps*VISTA brought us here and the nature of these one-year commitments is service with an emphasis on battling poverty. The stipends are meager - a challenge to live on and a good experience in how much of the world lives...just getting by. Or as my oldest sister graciously words it: "living in genteel poverty."

Of course AmeriCorps*VISTA is about service and it is not a forever lifestyle. But coming on the tail of a few years in Ukraine with Peace Corps (also a service role) we have become accustomed to living quite modestly and frugally. Entertaining has been very casual and infrequent.

We have been living like college students for the past several years!

So the idea of a party gives me mixed feelings. Our mix of quirky associates, workmates and friends may wonder about us, when they see us at home! I use the term "home", somewhat loosely. We are actually house-sitting here. Yes we have our possessions here, but by and large, we are almost camping. I've unpacked many things, but made no coordinated effort at decorating, since this is not my house. Of course it is homey, cheerful and very casual, but not a reflection of my style. Furniture is a hodge-podge of garage-sale finds. (We are actually "couch-sitting" too - the owners are living in Spain for a year or so and the couch remains in our care!)

Upon my return from my Camino travels, we will begin a new chapter of our lives. We will be leaving behind service jobs and seeking out something more mainstream and hoping to finally put down roots somewhere. That's my story and I am sticking to it.

Yes, in many ways we seem to have lead a pilgrims life for most of our lives together.

So my sweet spouse is hosting a party for me. Perhaps I should stop blogging and do a little cleaning!

If you are in the area - join us at the party and wish me a buen camino, face-to-face! (E-mail me for details!)

There is Nothing I Would Rather Do...

2009-04-04T08:05:00.007-06:00

Happy details are all I have left before I begin my Camino adventure. Less than 2 weeks to go before the sojourn commences.

Today I plan to order some Euros. When the rubber meets the runway in Madrid, I will already have local currency. This is my first experience with Euros.

I notified my bank of my travel plans and opened a small account which I can access with an ATM card. My spouse will transfer cash into my account as needed. This is my plan to avoid losing my shirt if someone somehow absconds with my VISA card.

Another pleasant task I will undertake today involves sewing a Camino patch onto my backpack.

I pick up my phrase book and practice my Spanish on the dog. She cocks her head, then looks away.

My tiny pack and spartan contents are all patiently waiting to be of service.

I am ready. I am simply biding my time. I am trying to stay in the now. I am frequently and uncharacteristically quiet because all I want to talk about is the impending trip. I try to spare my friends and coworkers.

My Camino thoughts preoccupy me - many opportunities to practice living in the now. I am reminded of wonderfully simple affirmations shared by Arthur Paul Boers (at the Gathering of American Pilgrims on the Camino): There is no place I would rather be. There is no one I would rather be with. There is nothing else I would rather do.

I am grateful that there are several major work-related projects to occupy my mind before I check out of this life and immerse myself in the pilgrimage. And in my free time, I am finding small, pleasant Camino-related tasks to occupy my head and hands. The affirmations run through my subconscious. I smile. My breathing slows.

I am ready. I am happy.

Life is good...

Happily Compiling my Itinerary...

2009-03-31T09:40:00.010-06:00

My desk is piled high with paper covered with cryptic notes and print outs from various blogs and websites. A thick, dog-eared atlas with 1:300.000 scale maps of Spain is spread open and there are pencilled comments scrawled along the meandering path of the Camino de Santiago. A half-empty coffee cup stands abandoned nearby. Wadded up papers fall onto the floor. What a clutter! What chaos!

Most of the weekend, I've pored over guide books, recommendations and lists that I've collected for months and months. The tentative list of stops is coming together and the list is annotated with information of the altitude and walking ratings, sights to seek out, alburques and refugios to stop at and those to avoid. And of course, I love castles, no matter what their condition, so I've penciled them in as must-see side trips.

There is information on likely weather (certainly not likely to be very accurate - Spring weather is flirtatious or temperamental) and good places to dine on the cheap. There are annotations on art, architecture, history and frivolous things too. There are phone numbers, addresses and bits of poetry and prose...

The list is awkward and, like my desktop, it is messy. I will be editing soon and making a neat, clean copy in my personal journal.

The time is fast approaching when I will board the airplane and head east to begin my Camino de Santiago.

I am so grateful for all the advice and guidance veteran pilgrims have been sharing with me. Compiling it all is a pleasure (and a pain). In the end, I may or may not follow my lovingly-prepared plan.

So why plan? I find pleasure in the planning (the "what ifs"!), just as I find pleasure in the walking. It is not the destination, it is the journey, whether it is planning or engaging.

I am very likely to follow my heart and pursue something not on my agenda. A cattle fair, an open market, a band concert, a parade of kittens, a perfect picnic spot, a flock of sheep... anything may distract me from the path. And it will!

Of course, to me, that is the very magic of the Camino...we find what it is we need, we are free to fully engage in life. It will be a buen camino! It will be MY camino.

PS: I've posted links to a few very useful tools for planning a walk along the Camino. These sites provide a wonderful start to getting an outline of where to go, when to stop, where to stay, what is costs, and what the weather might be. See the sidebar. Happy planning!

When Your Courage Kindles...Delight!

2009-03-28T09:54:00.005-06:00

Here is my gift to you, gentle-reader, potential-pilgrim: someone else’s poetry.

I discovered this delightful piece as I surfed through the mass of amazing offerings the magical-Internet spills into my life each day. (Visit the New Dimensions website – worth lingering over…Google it!).

The advice that accompanied the poem recommended reading it aloud, savoring each phrase. It is a fine practice, reading aloud.

This is a pilgrim poem. Of course I do not think John O'Donohue had the camino to Santiago de Compostela in mind when he wrote these words. But his words describe many of my own feelings as the idea of attempting the pilgrimage came alive in my heart. Are you “…unable to leave what you had outgrown…”? How many of us are trapped by the “…seduction of safety..” ? And what about the “… delight, when your courage kindled…” and you moved forward with the dream to walk the pathway with “…eyes young again with energy and dream, a path of plenitude opening before …” you?

I particularly like the phrase (and philosophy): “…learn to find ease in risk…”

But read on for yourself, read with open heart and pilgrim eyes.

_________________________________________

FOR A NEW BEGINNING

In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.
For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.
It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the gray promises that sameness whispered,
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.
Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plenitude opening before you.
Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is one with your life’s desire.
Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

From Benedictus: A Book of Blessings
By John O'Donohue (Bantam Press 2007)

Pilgrims Travel Light...

2009-03-25T08:42:00.005-06:00

Packing, packing, packing….it seems that if I am not packing, I am unpacking. In retrospect, the spaces between packing and unpacking and packing again are very brief.

Since I married my high school sweetheart back in 1971 (see photo, circa 1971), we have been (happily) on the move. We have alternately followed orders and followed our hearts. Years with the US Air Force (his 7 year tenure and then my 22 year career, when he played Mr. Mom and I was the Sergeant) took us so many places here and abroad. And there was our Peace Corps adventure in Ukraine. The move behind our current situation, working and house-sitting in sunny Santa Fe, is the result of accepting AmeriCorps and AmeriCorps*VISTA positions.

All in all, there are about 30 changes of residence over the past 35 years. (That explains why I frequently am at a loss when people ask for my phone number or home address!)

I laugh a bit whenever my sweet spouse talks of putting down roots somewhere. It sounds lovely, but I am not sure it will happen by choice. I think it may end up being a default situation where we simply stop…like the old pioneers who just stopped somewhere on their way west, crossing the vast, beautiful Great Plains of the USA.

Soon we will be packing again. Moving on to new jobs and new digs. Too soon to say when or where, but soon, no doubt.

In between our household moves there are travels which require planning, packing and loading. What is more fun than a road trip? We have been known to drive 500 miles (each way) over a weekend to ease cabin-fever in the great white north or to attend a party with old friends or to attend a Renaissance Faire or the Macy's Day or Rose Bowl Parades. Sometimes the family calls and sometimes the need for familiar faces pushes us into the car. And there is camping; escaping the phone, television, household chores for time outdoors relaxing in a hammock. And hiking up and down mountains in Malawi or exploring in Morocco.

And there is business travel too. One year in Spain, I travelled for the USAF almost 250 days to about ten different sites in several different countries. I came home weekend to wash my clothes and flew out again the next day. During one of those trips, our lease expired so my husband and son packed up our possessions and moved us to a new nest in a different town. When I came home to a place I’d never been before I felt a little like a visitor rather than the lady of the house!

My frequent moves have taught me to have confidence in this big old world and the people in it. No matter where we are, we find what we need. We find new friend and continue to cherish the old ones. We learn more about ourselves and our interests. We take risks and are rewarded with answers and successes. (There are occasional bruises, but they are good for the ego and keep people humble too…and taking the risk keeps us from wondering “what if?” and the feeling of bitterness that often comes when dreams are not put to the test.)

All this moving is kind of a dance of gratitude, a demonstration of faith, an awareness of abundance, a willingness to follow. It involves the courage to let go…to let go of things and ideas. It is an opportunity to trust as a little child.

I feel awareness, I see with new eyes…I assess what it is I value. All the beautiful lessons of life spill out like diamonds and rubies.

What has all this to do with my upcoming Camino? Not much really.

But as my departure date draws closer, the adrenaline begins to surface. I spend my time packing and unpacking. It feels good.

My tiny backpack (31 liters/22 ounces empty) will be home for the 40 days I plan to spend walking across northern Spain.

A pilgrim, by nature travels light.

And they carry all their riches, all that is important, in their hearts, not in their packs.

Life is good…

Another Day, Another Walk....

2009-03-23T18:39:00.004-06:00

The pack, a modest REI, 31 liter pack weighing in at about 22 ounces, is on my back everyday now. The dog, my coach and motivator, gets me out the door each day.

Santa Fe, where I currently live, has about 300 sunny days each year. But that doe NOT mean it is warm here! Today the winds whipped down from the snow-covered mountains and made me wish I was home by the fire. Mornings are still in the 20's or 30's, but midday can be just as cold or can fly up to the 70s. Yesterday was delightful...a perfect spring day and temperatures in the 70s...tomorrow may find snow falling...

I walk each day and try to take advantage of hills and valleys to get a good workout. Santa Fe is about 7,000 feet in elevation. I hope that is a training advantage. I practice with an overloaded pack too. I even wear heavier shoes than I plant to take on the Camino.

The countdown is real now - in four weeks, I will be somewhere over the Atlantic anticipating breakfast in Madrid. I plan to take a quick trip to Plaza Mayor, before I negotiate a trip by bus up to Pamplona and then on to Roncevalles.

Somehow this adventure does not feel real yet...I just cannot believe I am lucky enough to pursue this crazy dream.

'Tis the Gift to be Simple...

2009-03-23T08:52:00.005-06:00

“ 'Tis the gift to be simple, tis the gift to be free.”

- Joseph Brackett (Shaker Hymn)

Yesterday sweet Miss Zia and I tramped around, I wearing my full pack and Miss Z, dancing along at my side, as always pulling hard on the leash. I am the tortoise and she the hare.

She wound down after a while so we stopped under a juniper and I shared water with her. She laid there panting while I poured out water into her dish. She lapped up the water and then pawed at the bowl for more.

It was beautiful standing out there in the bright day with the panoramic view of the mountains (still snow on them!). I might have missed this moment, if the dog had not needed to rest. A simple gift from her. I reciprocated with pure water. I scratched behind her ears as we enjoyed the gentle spring breeze.

So often we miss the moments and spend our time in the future.

Later today - I am off to Lowes for some tomato seedlings and then back home to work on some more logistical things for my trip...my gear is coming together. Got some good sandals for post-walk relaxation. Light weight Merrils...they hug my feet in a happy way.

The Future...
When I return home from the Camino, it will be time to start another chapter of our lives. Last night I looked (Online) at AmeriCorps*VISTA jobs -many of the opportunities intrigue me. Loving what you do is important and feeling as if you make a contribution is essential too. There are several VISTA positions that intrigue me. They last only a year...they may be a foot in the door and an opportunity to pursue a new path for a year.

(VISTA jobs are usually capacity building, requiring honed skills and providing better benefits than AmeriCorps positions which are hands-on.) There's a couple positions in Albuquerque that interest me...one at KUNM (Public Radio)working with teens and media....very appealing...MAYBE...but for now, the Camino is the path I am walking. It is not time to move forward on the future. I pause and reflect - like Miss Zia, resting under the tree, enjoying the cool water and the gift of the moment in the shade, I focus on the immediate and relish it. The Camino is my pathway just now. I pause and relish the preparations.

Travelling light and staying conscious of the beauty and abundance around me is my current job. Expressing gratitude is so important, and for me that is what this wonderful opportunity is about. I will have what I need. Walking the Camino is an opportunity to see that belief in action. I can only follow one path at a time. I push aside the temptation to worry - the temptation to be drawn into the drama and limitations of the material, and I look beyond it to things more spiritual.

The simple act of walking the Camino to Santiago is a gift, a simple gift, a gift of freedom...and I will find myself in "the valley of love and delight."*

*The lyrics for the Brackett's Shaker song (quoted above) follow:

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come out right.

Life is good...

Walking on a Spring Day

2009-03-22T15:42:00.015-06:00

Spring is in the air so I loaded up my backpack and headed off for a long walk with my dog Zia.

I start of my Camino is only a few weeks off so getting in condition is important and my dog loves to hike across the desert.

My 31 liter pack (empty it wieghs 22 ounces) is loaded with about 25 pounds of canned goods. I do not intend to carry such a heavy load, but for conditioning purposes that is what I am doing.

Today Zia and I walked along the desert for a while and then spent time walking up and down hills to help me build up strength in my knees. I also wear my pack at home and make a point of going up and down the stairs to help me build strength.

The afternoon speeds quickly by. There is joy in the simple pleasure of walking.

Life is good...

The Gathering of American Pilgrims on the Camino

2009-03-18T09:22:00.009-06:00

I am processing. Unfortunately I must go to the office today and fain interest in all the urgent (if not so important) events going on there. But I know I will be preoccupied.

What is on my mind? I spent the last several days as an apprentice among a gathering of an amazing group of veterans of the Camino. It was a rich experience to attend the Annual Gathering of the American Pilgrims of the Camino (APOC).

I learned so much and laughed so hard...my brain is full now and so, happily, is my heart. I am as engorged spiritually as one might feel physically after the all-American Thanksgiving feast!

I must ready myself to go back into the mundane world, but I hope to revisit this topic within a few days. For now I will simply say a big thank you to all those generous pilgrims who came together to share this Walk in the Spirit. It was a miracle of love. I am grateful for everyone who came and opened their hearts - I am enriched and joyful...

Life is good...so very good...

40 Days to Go...Counting Down

2009-03-11T10:00:00.004-06:00

40 days remaining - yes, I will be in Spain in just 40 days. I say "just" 40 days but it seems like a long wait.

40 days in Spain - yes I will be in Spain for about 40 days. I should say "just" 40 days because it seems like such a brief visit.

The days spent waiting to depart on this adventure go slowly while the days spent walking the Camino will go quickly...Clearly time is a mortal concept.

We human just think it is an accurate measure.

Life is good... as I count down the days.

Backpack Lust & a Series of Unfortunate Choices

2009-03-10T09:31:00.003-06:00

I made a series of mistakes over the past few days. What to do, what to do?

It started out innocently enough. I gave in to the compulsion to wander into the local REI. For me, a visit to the REI store is much like a visit to the animal shelter: temptation is all around and emotions run high. I should avoid these places at any cost.

I lovingly refer to this grand camping, hiking and sporting goods behemoth, as an adult toy store. It is delightful to while away the hours wandering through the aisles examining all the specialized equipment. Most of these clever items are pricey and extravagant and frequently pretty useless in the end.

In the course of poking fun at foolish extravagances and over-the-top equipment, my spouse and I found ourselves in the backpack department. That’s when the dragon reared his ugly head. Yes, somehow the equation, of needs versus desire got transposed when I breathed in the heady air inside the store and saw the array of beautiful backpacks lining the walls. (There is a scent, almost like a new-car smell!) I love bags of any kind, so this was a dangerous place for me to be.

I was casually examining the tags on a lightweight pack, when the cheerful saleswoman, on the scent of a possible sale, grinned at me and said, “Just try one on.”

It is true that I NEED a back pack. In fact, for several months I have been researching and getting recommendations on lightweight backpacks. I intended to order a Gossamer Gear pack and was planning to place that order following the Gathering of American Pilgrims next weekend.

But hey, why not just try one on? So, I slid my arms into the embrace of the backpack as the saleswoman chattered on about how to adjust the various straps. My heart began beating faster. Not a good sign, but I was already oblivious to most of what was going on. (Pack-lust!)

My sweet spouse, the voice of reason, pointed out that this pack had a very agreeable price tag.

Furthermore, we had a coupon for 20% off. By now, the saleswoman had me securely strapped in and had loaded the pack with 20 or so pounds of weight.

She smiled again, and said, “Just wear it around the store while you window shop a bit. See what you think.”

I was clearly not thinking.

If my spouse had any training in emergency medicine, he might have noticed my dilated pupils, my racing heart, my flushed face. But he did not.

In fact, he said, “Look at the weight of this pack – only 24 ounces! That’s not much more than the Gossamer Gear pack.” (Post script: the GG Miniposa weighs 14 ounces)”

That is when the rationalizations really began to fly.

My husband and I began an enthusiastic discussion on the relative merits of this pack over those of the GG Miniposa. This pack has a back pad while the GG Miniposa pack has none (because minimalist hikers strategically place their sleeping pad there instead…this shaves off weight. But since I would not be using a sleeping pad this was a moot point.)

I could not try on the GG Miniposa pack since it is available only online. Could I be sure the mail-order pack would fit me as nicely as the pack I was happily toting around the store at this very moment? (Hmm, mail-order spouse versus the guy I met at a dance?)

On and on the rationalizing (disguised as logic) went.

“Great price, great fit, great weight…let’s do it!” I said, pulling out my credit card and leaving the store with a brand new backpack.

Once home, I immediately made the pack my very own. I carefully and happily snipped off all the labels and lopped off the extra cords, and eliminated anything extraneous. All this in the interest of shaving off ounces of weight.

Then I began to stuff my down sleeping bag into the top-loading pack. This was the start of a long evening of entertainment for anyone who might have been watching. I wrestled with that sleeping bag, trying to find a good way to pack it into the backpack with any space remaining for my two changes of clothes and the other few items on my checklist.

By the end of the night, I was exhausted physically and emotionally. It was clear I would have to strap my sleeping bag in a compression sack on the outside of my tiny pack. I was not amused.

In the clear light of day, after a restless night agonizing over this matter I must admit, I somehow bought an 1,800 cubic inches/ 30L pack, weighing 24 ounces. In all my research I had been looking at packs with a volume of more than 2,000 cubic inches and most around 35L. The more suitable GG Miniposa’s statistics are: 2,800 cubic inches/45L and 14 Ounces.

What was I thinking? (Slap to the forehead and big sigh!)

All this from a notoriously frugal shopper… (Another big sigh.)

As I tap this note out on my keyboard, I can almost hear my mother’s voice saying “Buy in hast, repent at leisure.”

So what’s the next move?

Do I live with the mistake and the consequences?

Or do I spring for another backpack?

Stay tuned for further misadventures on Peregrina Pulver.

Despite everything - Life is good...

Waiting for the Irresistible...

2009-02-28T13:54:00.005-07:00

My decision to walk the Camino came as a quiet, urgent desire. It was like a small seed, planted deep in the earth, pushing upward toward the light and warmth.

The poor little plant was almost trampled under the plans and agendas of the busy world around me!

In a world that generally honors logic and checklists, goal-setting and efficiency, promotions and paychecks, we often fail to recognize our own needs and desires. We rush around designing, planning, consulting, outlining, budgeting...controlling. We fail to take time to dream or to feel.

In the past few years I have been consciously cultivating the capacity to listen to my heart and my feelings. (Events in my life have conspired to lead me back to this way of living more simply and making better choices.)

In the past few years I have nurtured dreams and waited for them to unfold like the blossoms on a rose. The seed has grown, the foilage is lush and green, the buds are ready to burst into flower.

So I am walking the Camino this April. And what's next? I do not know, but we shall see ...meanwhile, I am expectantly (and gratefully) waiting and anticipating…no checklists or outline, just openess and wonder.

Yesterday I read a wonderful post from the Great Work Blog. (michael@boxofcrayons.biz ) See the excerpt below and you will understand what I mean when I quote Cate Blabchett, “I’ll just wait for the next irresistible thing.”

I hope you do too!

_________EXCERPT FOLLOWS_________
“I’ll just wait for the next irresistible thing”Posted: 12 Jan 2009 03:28 AM CST

Cate Blanchett: possibly the best actor in the world at the moment, a stunning talent and beautiful too … and being Australian is just the cherry on the cake.

She’s the cover story of this month’s Vanity Fair, and manages to come across as wise.

When asked “what’s next?” her answer is a beauty:

“I’ll just wait for the next irresistible thing.”

In that simple answer lies wisdom that allows Great Work to flourish:
* Trust that the next great thing will show up
* A willingness to wait for it
* An ability to keep awareness and space open so, when it does show up, there’s the capacity to receive it

What does “irresistible” look like to you in the work that you do?

And how are you holding the space open enough so that you’ll notice it when it shows up?

______________EXCERPT ENDS_____________

One More Caleb Post...

2009-02-27T09:18:00.006-07:00

One more Caleb post as the month of February winds down...

When I see black Jeeps I smile. Why? They remind me of my son. I miss him. But each day I am blessed with many happy reminders of him (and others who have passed on). When I see a black Jeep, my heart feels lighter. My thoughts flash back to joyful times riding with Caleb behind the wheel of his own black Jeep. On my morning walk today, I saw three. I am buoyant.

Bright yellow rubber ducks and soap bubbles trigger happy Caleb-thoughts too. Chain mail and RenFairs, and Dr Pepper cans make me smile. (Caleb drank a lot of Dr. Pepper – always without ice, an idiosyncrasy he shares with his father.) There are so many delightful (and foolish) reminders of my son.

This time of year, I am especially cognizant of the hole left in my heart when Caleb died. (He died in a motorcycle accident on February 25th 2002, just days after his 26th birthday.)

I am even more cognizant these days, how losing him has changed who I am and how I live. In so many ways the change has been for the better. Rattled out of complacency and forced to live…to share my heart, to be open and vulnerable.

It sometimes seems to me when people die, they leave behind a little of themselves with those people who were part of their lives. I found myself expressing so many of mother and father’s traits after they died. And so it is with Caleb’s death. This legacy, these gifts of character that seem to surface after death are a wonderful surprise and a way to keep their spirits alive in daily life.

These days, I find myself living larger these days, loving more fully, being kinder, less impatient, more content, …I credit this to lessons learned from watching loved ones pass on to another realm.

This pilgrimage I am undertaking, this walk of gratitude, is, in part, realized because of Caleb. Our children spent many of their formative years living in Spain, so of course I am drawn there…it holds a sense of home for me. It was the place where I really learned to be a wife and mother. I raised my young family there. Spain was home for ten years. Caleb was born there, my daughter graduated from high school there.

I don’t believe in ghosts, but I know Caleb’s spirit is with me as I go about my days and as I make my happy plans for my pilgrimage. I am sure he will accompany me on my journey across northern Spain. And so will my mother and father. They will whisper to me and make me smile and laugh…or do the right thing…or take risks.

We all reflect one Spirit – this I know. We reflect Life, Truth, Love, Soul, Principle, Mind and Spirit – the myriad qualities associated with them.

We are not mere mortals…we are so much more.

Life is good…not always easy, often short, but Life is good…

I Dream of Wild Horses...

2009-02-25T21:24:00.005-07:00

Sometimes, I dream of wild horses.

Years ago, I planned a trip to northern Spain. It included a few days among the wild horses. But when the time came to take the trip, my "client" decided a return to Granada and the Alhambra was more to her liking. The grand tour of northern Spain was cancelled. Sigh.

I wanted to spend time with these creatures.

Sometimes I dream of wild horses.

Will I see them on my pilgrimage? I don't know.

But, I will know they are there...

Life is good...just unpredictable...

"Ginn"
Toasting Caleb on This Day...

Why I am Walking the Camino...

2009-02-25T11:06:00.006-07:00

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places.

- Ernest Hemingway - A Farewell to Arms

My walk this morning is dedicated to the joyful memories and the gentle magic my son Caleb brought to my life and that his spirit continues to bring.

I miss him fiercely, but when I look beyond (let go) of this grief, I find myself capable of gratitude for the years we had together and for what his death taught me about living. Grief and pain are like staring at a dark shadow and failing to see the abundant light behind me. Walking through the shadow if death has left me with a new exuberance for life, a talent for living more joyfully, for trusting more and taking risks.

The opportunity - the courage and motivation and all the other things necessary to make this pilgrimage possible (necassary), are in part due, to what I learned going through the experience of our son's death.

On this morning walk I enjoyed the beauty of a fine spring day full of promise.

Life is good...

Remembering Caleb J. Pulver: 02/22/76 - 02/25/02

See: www.pulverpages.com - CALEB Library Project & My Malawi Journals.

See photos of Caleb on my Facebook page

Clip Joint!

2009-02-24T11:31:00.005-07:00

I spent the weekend clipping tags, cutting off buttons, etc. Every ounce counts. I shaved off 5 ounces off a 10-ounce windbreaker and several ounces off my sleeping bag and other items.

Laugh if you will, but 4 ounces is a tube of toothpaste...a couple pairs if silk sock-liners...a scarf...toilet paper...

Small things count - whoever said "don't sweat the small stuff" was probably not a backpacker!

See the photo to view my cumulative pile. I will post the weight collectively when I am finished with this project.

Of course, I am shaving off small amounts of weight yet, I am very likely to bring along some items others will find frivolous.

This exercise is kind of like drinking a diet Coke and eating a Snicker bar at the same time.

It is all about trade offs.

I will take a few frivilous items on my journey - a small, yellow rubber duck will probably travel with me...that is a story for another day.

Life is good...take it light! 8-)

Spiritual Preparations...

2009-02-24T10:06:00.006-07:00

There is never enough time to simply reflect on the joys and the abundance of life. In fact, for me, the camino offers a welcome opportunity to simply think. The chief distractions along the way are the most routine demands of life.

During this stage of my preparations, I am reading Mary Baker Eddy’s Science and Health with Keys to the Scriptures. (Some people give up something for Lent - I am taking on something instead - yes, this is my morning reading for the next 40 days!)

The familiar texts take on a fresh meaning in light of my upcoming walk. There will be ample opportunities on this walk to demonstrate the truths I have learned from this textbook.

I had hoped to carry this book with me on my adventure, but it seems wisest to leave it behind. Perhaps I will tuck it in at the last minute (it wieghs in at 20 ounces) – I can always leave it behind at some stage of the trip. Some eager student of life or avid reader would benefit from the surprise of finding this book.

Even if the book stays safely at home, I will carry the lessons I have learned from Mrs. Eddy’s writings. They will make my footsteps light and buoy my thought.

In packing light, one makes their values evident by the choices one makes.

Life is good…

The Camino - Walking Through Cancer

2009-02-20T09:51:00.013-07:00

If you are a reader of things-Santiago, start looking for a brand now book by Elyn Aviva. E. has several excellent Camino books already in print (see a couple in the photo).

The latest book should be available later this month. I hope to get a copy and indulge myself in a good read-fest.

Interested? Start Googling:

Walking Through Cancer - A Pilgrimage of Gratitude on the Way of St. James

by Elyn Aviva

Of course the title appeals to me; I have dedicated my own upcoming Camino as a pilgrimage of gratitude and of course that is the title of this blog too. What a lovely coincidence! Gratitude is a key element in my life. It is something my mother nurtured in me. And it is a legacy for which I am, well, yes, very grateful.

I am eager to read Elyn's story. Though I did not walk through cancer on the Camino, I walked through cancer. And soon I will walk the Camino. It is a walk of gratitude.

One of the many things I am grateful for in my own life involves an opportunity for growth. Yes, there is a cancer story in my own life. When that creature reared its ugly head I was amazed at how I responded. Even more amazing to me is how this experience turned into an opportunity. I learned so much about my own character and my values. I learned about taking risks and so much more.

I rarely speak of cancer. It does not define me.

It is merely one of the stones on the rocky, uphill path of life. And, like most people, there are other stones. But, my life is filled with blessings and I am too busy joyfully singing my thanks and expressing my enthusiasm that I don't notice. (FYI: That singing - metaphorical only...I am an enthusiastic singer, but not gifted!)

Remember the fairy tale about the princess and the pea? I assure you, I would not be noticing that pea! Life is just so full of wonder and adventure - no time or tolerance for complacency or people who live in the shadow of fear or cling to bitterness.

On that note, I will conclude this hasty, rambling, free-form post by saying (you guessed it!) I am grateful for all those pilgrims who share their lessons and lives in books and blogs.

Thank you Elyn - I look forward to reading your story...

Life is good...

The Old Bag's Sleeping Bag...

2009-02-18T09:40:00.010-07:00

Yes the poppy-red Altus rain gear arrived and I have taken it out on one walking adventure. I think I will be quite happy with my cheerful purchase. Later I will post the hunchback photos (I become "Ginnimodo when I wear the pack under the ponch!).

Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain!

FYI: this really is a rain coat (with built in pack cover) and NOT a traditional poncho. Several people have advised me to not get a poncho (due to wind). For more information on this poncho, see my previous post or drop me a note. Did I mention how quickly it arrived? Ordered it from Spain on Sunday and had it in New Mexico by noon on Wednesday!

They thoughtfully included a cherry lollipop in the mailing! 8-)

On my weekend jaunt to Phoenix (to attend the delightful Arizona Renaissance Festival) I found time to go shopping with my aspiring Eagle-Scout grandson. He acted as my consultant on this shopping-expedition.

We researched the inventory of a few sporting goods stores looking for just the right woman's sleeping bag weighing in under 2 pounds and rated around 25 degrees F. We happily found a wonderful Kelty which I had read about online. It was on sale too.

At the last moment, I asked the clerk if he had a regular instead of a tall (shaving off a few more ounces from the weight). He went in the back room and reappeared moments later, with my requested item and a big grin on his face: this bag was reduced even further! I paid about $80 - well under the prices I saw on Google shopper and E-Bay.

This bag has a clever zipper at the bottom which allows me to let my feet breathe a bit. I actually waddled around with it on. I looked a bit like a penguin. Miss Zia, my pup, was pretty puzzled by my strange antics. I almost fell over from laughing at her funny facial expressions as she cocked her head from one side to the other and furrowed her sweet brow.

Besides its entertainment value, I think this sleeping bag will be just right for my Camino experience.

So my gear collection is growing. I will board the aircraft and fly off to Madrid in about eight weeks...That old Carly Simon tune (Anticipation) is running through my head as I anticipate the big adventure ahead.

More later...too much to do at the office these days...sigh. But life is good...

Not on My To-Do List...

2009-02-10T10:29:00.006-07:00

I was on some kind of mission. Memory fails me, but I was in my big, red pick-up truck, headed off to do a task when the Universe imposed a detour, a literal detour. As you in “you can’t get there from here”.

I took this in stride and was still right on schedule when a sign captured my attention: Yard Sale”. In my personal book of laws, passing a yard sale without stopping has a stiff penalty. So I pulled over and joined the people pawing through boxes of treasures.

In Santa Fe, yard sales are exceptionally delightful. The city draws people who appreciate art and culture and who often have the means to support a very comfortable lifestyle. These people arrive, unpack and soon have a yard sale as they remodel their homes to reflect the Santa Fe style. Then a couple years later they pack up to move elsewhere and again have a yard sale of delights and unique items.

Not only are the yard sales a great place to find excellent additions to the household or the wardrobe, you also meet amazing people who have lead full, rich lives and they frequently are willing to talk about them. It is refreshing how open and willing to talk the strangers who populate Santa Fe really are. Is it harmonic rhythms or what? Who knows? Who cares? Just enjoy the stories and the gifts that unfold.

At this particular, unplanned yard sale stop, my sweet husband was drawn to a yet untapped box and what did he find? A primitive wooden painting of St James, the Moorslayer! (One of his alter-egos, perhaps not the favorite of gentle pilgrims, yet the very St James whose relics are found at the end of El Camino under the cathedral at Santiago de Compostela. See the photo.)

After negotiating an excellent price for this icon, I exchanged business cards with another woman who heard me mention my upcoming pilgrimage to Santiago. And before I knew it, my network of veteran pilgrims expanded by one. I could hardly keep up with the woman as she enthusiastically spilled out advice and anecdotes.

I stood, happily listening and learning and totally forgot about the errand that had brought me out that day. Warm conversation, good advice, time to soak it all in...what could be more improtant?

Thus is the subtle magic of the universe. We are often right where we should be, if we have sense enough to pay attention.

Waxing Philosophical...

2009-02-10T09:51:00.001-07:00

So many coincidence and serendipitous events come together to bless us once we have committed to a decision. From the moment I committed (last year) to walk the Camino to Santiago de Compostela, events, people and opportunities have conspired to help make it happen.

Unexpected paths appear, doors open, the universe smiles down on us when we open our eyes and ears and pay attention.

I never seem to have the patience to get the magic down on paper, but I know that every step of my upcoming camino adventure has been blessed in ways I could not have outlined. And I know that I am grateful for this continuing lesson of what supply and substance (or should I say Supply and Substance?) is really about.

I used to like to write – to wordsmith and edit till my message was clear and concise. The past few years though, I have become more of a vehicle for stream of consciousness writing…letting my feelings guide my fingers, letting my heart show. My life is so full and busy, there is no time (or patience) …I am living like a stream rushing with the floodtide of spring melt…thoughts and feeling splash and tumble over the rocks with no decorum or linear path…just enthusiasm, power, joy and playfulness.

Living my life is a bit like that too.

Somewhere along the line I stopped orchestrating and outlining and simply began living. I respond rather than react… In the moment between stimulus and response I make a choice; a choice consistent with my values. And then I respond. I commit.

Because I am better at staying in the moment I have become more practiced at dealing with the suggestions that ambiguity is bad. I am freed from fear (and ambivalence and rigid thinking and decisions and actions based on control, etc).

So now, in April, I embark (officially) on this Pilgrimage of Gratitude, this 800 kilometer walk across Spain, and I prepare knowing that all will be well. That does not mean I am passive, but it means I am capable of weathering the challenges ahead and wise enough to find the blessings on my rocky path. A line from a favorite hymn of my mother’s (and mine): “I will follow and rejoice, all the rugged way.” The path may literally and metaphorically be challenging, but I will be singing, dancing and rejoicing in the face of it all…alive and well.

I am not a novice at living. The path has been rugged at time. Dealing with the loss of a son, walking through cancer and watching a special dream die…these experiences have blessed me in so many ways. I have grown and learned and I am free from many constraints and mortal concerns.

Well, I started this post, hoping to share some of the delightful coincidences that have lead to each decision of my preparations for my camino, but I have digressed (as in life, the detours often make the story more compelling). Typical of me, I have taken the longer route, the inviting detour that meanders; the path that many avoid. As someone once said, life is about the journey and not the destination. Looking back at my life, I have no regrets, just a calm, sense of gratitude, peace, content, strength…I am happy in my own skin. I am open and willing to learn more. The adventure continues as I amble down the path.

Perhaps another day I will attempt to share the stories I thought I would share today.

Today, I shared a little more of who I am. Welcome to my world…

Life is good…

The Rain in Spain...

2009-02-08T12:14:00.007-07:00

The rain in Spain falls mainly - in Spring.

Long ago, I lived on the dry plains in central Spain and have dealt with the infamous rain alluded to in the "My Fair Lady" tune everyone seems to know. But frankly the thought of slogging through the cold, driving rains of northern Spain puts a bit of a damper (yikes, baaaaad pun) on my pleasure in walking the pilgrimage to Santiago. In northern Spain, Galicia in particular, it rains frequently. I get cold just thinking of walking in a downpour actually.

Of course the old adage (April showers bring May flowers) will lighten my step. I anticipate seeing beautiful and bounteous blossoms blanketing the hills, dales and mountainsides. I will be happily slogging through the mud snapping photos of the glorious green and the riot of colors. How well I remember the hillsides covered with stunning red poppies. The countryside in Spring is like a Monet painting or a colorful Picasso canvas. I will hardly mind the cold, rain and mud.

In fact I may almost blend in with those brilliant scarlet poppies. Why? because one more decision has been made and one more step taken: my sweet and generous spouse went online and kindly ordered me a wonderful piece of rain gear to keep me warm and dry as I make my trek. This clever rain coat (see the photo above - but mine is an outrageous poppy RED!) goes over the backpack to keep everything dry. It is an Altus poncho and comes highly recommended among pilgrim experts who have been guiding me through through ropes.

The poncho weighs about a pound, but it is both a pack cover and a jacket. It converts for use with or without the backpack too. It has a full zipper and that appeals to me - many others I looked at must go over the head. The zipper improves ventilation too. I can think of ways to use it for other purposes too.

So in a week to ten days my red rain gear should arrive. And of course I will put it on over my backpack and walk the dog. I imagine our rural neighbors will be puzzled or amused when they look out their windows and see the odd, red, hunchbacked figure loping happily along behind the 3-legged dog!

One more decision down (thanks to my spouse!). Bring on those April showers! 8-)

Life is good...

Getting my Gear Together...

2009-02-06T10:41:00.006-07:00

Getting my gear together is becoming a reality.

I have a good inventory of clothing and footwear from which to build. Those decisions will fall into place nearer to my travel date. I can look at weather forecasts to help me out during those final days. And toiletries are not an issue really.

But there are some decisions/purchases yet to make.

The backpack that will be my constant companion and the monkey on my back. It will surely be a love-hate relationship.

I am currently conditioning myself using an old Osprey I got at a yard sale. I carry 2-3 gallon jugs of water as I slosh along on the morning dog-walk. (See the photo of Miss Zia, my 3-legged walking coach and trainer!)

I am looking at and leaning toward a Gossamer Gear ultralight Miniposa. They raised the prices since last fall so I find myself procrastinating - waiting for a sale.

I need a suitable sleeping bag. April and May weather in the mountains of northern Spain can be erratic and extreme. I vacillate on what I think I need. I am leaning toward a down bag rated for 30 degrees F. I am trying to find something under 2 pounds at a price under $150.

And I wonder how happy I will be encased in a mummy bag? At home I start my nights sleeping under a pile of comforters and then about 3AM, my furnace goes into overdrive. Out pops my left leg. This helps me moderate my temperature. So do I sleep warm or cool? I don't know. Sooo that debate still goes on.

Do I need or want walking sticks? Maybe I will wait until I arrive in Spain to make this choice.

I want to journal and take notes so I need to choose a practical notebook. I am fond of Cambridge spiral bound Business Notebooks - 80 sheets of 9 1/2 X 5 3/8 inch, cheery, yellow graph paper. And a pen or pencil of course.

There are so many beautiful photos taken by pilgrims. I know I will want to take home images to share with friends and family. But cameras mean extra equipment. I don't want to deal with chargers and batteries, film, etc. I need to find a good compromise.

And what about rain gear?

I am NOT taking a phone, nor am I really planning to blog en-route.

I am NOT planning to take any books. It is hard to imagine life without a book close at hand. No maps and guide books either...this is about the process and people. But I wish I could bring my Christian Science text book: Science and Health with Keys to the Scripture. But no.

I never wear a watch, but maybe I should for this trip.

Choices and decisions will unfold. There is no pressure. But during this waiting I get restless and the list-making begins. And when that compulsive-behavior begins, I simply take a deep breath, put the dog on a leash and head out the door for a nice long walk.

Life is good...