Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Monday, May 27, 2013
Salisbury International Arts Festival
Sunday,
May 26, 2013
11:46 AM
Arizona, 7:48 PM England
Back to
the theme thing I was taking about in an earlier post. The theme is still evolving and I think it
will be multilevel. Things change on a
daily basis as to what I’m going to be doing the rest of the trip. Arrangements have been made which does not
allow for a joint trip to Canterbury. So
I can do the ride alone or go via train thus arriving in Spain earlier than I
expected to. Then my daughter may want
to join me in Spain which again changes the time table. This may have something to do with discerning
the difference between doing things to my time table or adjusting to others. When and how often do you make allowances for
others? I met a couple at the Salisbury Museum this
morning who invited me to coffee.
Virginia said “Always like talking to people from other countries.” So I sat down with Harold and Virginia to
chat about our travels. We spent about
half hour talking and Harold said “It’s important to travel with someone who is
compatible, makes everything nicer.” Well
it certainly does!
Today is
my second day of Stewarding at the Festival.
Yesterday prior to starting my shift Mark and I wandered through the
different free events. We watched a show
that had performers swinging and dancing in a cage, than another where
performers bounced on a trampoline and wrestled with a carpet we could not
figure out was that was about. Than it
was time to “go to work” and I was assigned to the Rag and Bone Yard where the
performers rode on contraptions covered with junk. I ended with them fighting a junk dragon all
very symbolic. The Cathedral Close was
the area this opening was staged in. The
majority of the acts presented were free.
I was then assigned to wander around and “be a presents” for the crowd. Prior to my wandering I was reunited with
Anne, a member of the Festival team, with a big hug. I met Anne when I first started coming to
England eight years ago. She is a
charming young lady who has always welcomed me with her beautiful smile.
Later in
the evening Liz, who use to work for the YHA, came up and I received yet another
wonderful hug and greeting. We have
known each other for about five years now and meet annually at the
Festival. She left the YHA a few years
ago to teach and get married. I thought
I would never see her again but, here we are.
She married a very nice chap named Greg and she is now pregnant. After Liz and I chatted for a bit she left we
to wandered some more. I was a very
happy camper having been greeted by two longtime friends, then Greg came up and
greeted to me. It was a pleasuer to see
him again after meeting him for the first time last year. He was gracious and invited me to call when I
returned to Salisbury so we could have dinner, than offered me their spare room
to sleep in when I return from Spain. I am very grateful for all the friends I've
As the
sun slowly set the tempter began to cool and I, already dealing with a bit of a
head cold, thought it prudent to head back to my tent just as the fireworks
started. I was able to watch them in my
rear-view mirrors as I rode away. As I
came closer to the campground I heard quite loud music from somewhere ahead of
me. It seems there was quite a party
going on somewhere passed the campground and the acoustics made it sound as if
it were right next to us.
Today my
shift was from 2 pm to 4 pm so I spent most of the morning, which was cool and
cloudy, in Starbucks. By the time I went
to “work” the sun was out and it had become quite a nice day. I was assigned to guard a musical sculpture
in the Close. There were about 10 of
these spread over the Close grounds humming, drumming, clanging, and
whistling. I could see the piece of art
I was guarding in my friend Jill’s Art store.
It was really a very soothing piece that was made to sound like river
rushes in the wind. I could see it in my
garden if I had one. After my shift we
when to dinner and I was able to speak to my daughter, son and some of the
grand-kids. It was Rebecca’s, my youngest
granddaughter, birthday. Happy Birthday
Rebecca!
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Tuesday,
May 21, 2013
1:40 PM
Arizona, 9:40 PM Devizes UK
So the
thing is that there always seems to be a theme that pops up about these
journeys. Sometimes it takes a while for
them to appear and other times they become apparent quite quickly. Today on my ride back to the campground I
decided to stop and sit at a bench along the canal. I chose this particular bench because on the
ride in this morning there was a young woman sitting there with earphone wires
disappearing into here auburn hair. As I
rode up she had the most amazing smile as if she were very glad to see me. I said good morning as did she and I rode
on. Sitting on the bench later felt
remorseful that I had not stopped and talked to her. As I sat there this evening a puppy belonging
to a young woman bounded over to me. The
young lady followed and we struck up a conversation. Her name was Nicole and the pups name was
Murphy who was four months old. Within a
few minutes we exchanged quite a lot of information about ourselves and families.
She was
from Robin Hood country and her partner was in the military currently based in
the Falkland’s. It was nice to just chat with no agenda
involved. It is a shame that all
conversations cannot take on that kind of openness. But, for some reason some conversations which
would be productive don’t happen or happen too late to be of any use. Like the conversation about feelings for
another person seem to be the most difficult.
Often it is made difficult by whatever reasons that the mind builds up
that it would not be a good thing to do.
How many times have I not stopped and had the conversation I wanted to
only to regret it later? How many times
have I not had a conversation because my head has rationalized it would make no sense to have it? Sadly, reflecting on that thought, far
too often, far, far too often. Then when
brave enough to speak my truth it is far too late.
This is
probably the fourth time I’ve been to Devizes usually just for an overnight
stay then on to Bath in the morning. This
time I decided that I’d like to spend a day here just to look around. The days are still a bit chilly not getting
much over 55 degrees. The sky continues
to be over cast with gray clouds through which the sun peaks but not
often. The Kennet – Avon Canal here is a
master piece of engineering. There are
29 closely placed locks built in the 1800’s that once moved goods to and from
markets. Now it is used mostly by
pleaser boaters who travel or live on the canal. The boats are handsomely decorated with
vibrant colors, plants and pottery. Some
of the old canal barges were turned into pleasure boats, but now they are built from
scratch from to the owners likes. I
always thought my brother in law Vic would like to take one down the
canal. They putter along at about three
miles an hour just enough to give it some maneuverability. Since the canal is a fairly straight affair
with a few long turns the boats don’t need to be that maneuverable.
There is
a Norman church here built in 1130 by the same bishop that built the cathedral
in Salisbury that I love so. It still
has three sections of walls that are from the original church. The church was locked and I asked some ladies
raking up cut grass from between the grave stones when it would be open. A key was fetched and I was allowed in for a
look about. When I left there was a fellow, who sounded
Irish, out front practicing his juggling.
I've walked around town, had some
lunch at the local Wetherspoons, purchased a tire pump for my bike, and found some
sweet peppers for snacks. Mark comes out
from Wetherspoons, where he has sequestered himself for most of the day, to
walk around the town. We decide to have
dinner the as Mark does not want to cook at the campground. I head back to the campground alone as I’ve
had enough screaming kids for one day.
Mark
catches up to me and we ride the canal back to the campground. I explain to Mark that I want to head back to
Salisbury and not continue on to Bath. I
show him the route back, different from the one we used to get here He is not
enthusiastic about it and wants to ride the canal to the next town then take a
train back to Salisbury. I would prefer
to ride as I need to get in shape if I’m to ride in Spain. We go separated ways.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
More Dublin
Saturday,
May 18, 2013
1:17 PM
Arizona, 9:17 PM England
Last I
wrote was on Saturday May 11th from Dublin. I am now in Salisbury, England at the YHA
where I will stay for two days.
Recapping
the last seven days is a bit like trying to remember a particularly good dream
after waking up. The bits and pieces
swim through my mind but it is hard to make a whole of the parts. So rather than day by day I’ll just hit some
highlights. The first highlight was that
my bag was delivered to the hostel the day after we arrived. The hostel where we stayed was called the “The
Times” and our rooms were on the top floor, which mean lugging suitcases up three
flights of stairs. The room had 10 beds
with metal baskets underneath to store stuff, one bathroom, and was as mix of
men and woman. We would find out that the baskets sounded
like a cat fight when pulled open. We
did not use ours but, it seemed everyone else did especially in the middle of
the night. The only bed left when we
arrived was the one right in front of the bathroom. Some genius put the switch for the light
outside the bathroom. In order to use
the bathroom one would turn the switch on then go in and shut the door. Of course the same was true upon
exiting. Our bed was lit up every time
someone would enter or exit. Sleeping
became somewhat of a chore, but I managed without too much grumbling.
The
common room/kitchen was on the second floor was a multi-windowed long narrow
room. This was the meeting place for all
who were in residence there. Most of the
seats were indented from years of butts sitting in them and quite uncomfortable. I spend one night in this room talking to
Conny until 2 am solving the worlds and ours problems. Several
times I had to ask for the radio or T.V. to be turned down due to their being
quite loud. Many of the students staying here were from
Italy attending a local academy to learn English. Two of
them make dinner one night for everyone which included a new group of about
twenty. Managed to get a bowl of pasta
which went well with the Spanish wine from Leon I have purchased.
We went for
a tour of Trinity College which is the oldest in Ireland. I claim to fame is the Book of Kill’s which
is held in the old library. The
Book of Kells is celebrated for its lavish decoration. The manuscript contains
the four Gospels in Latin based on a Vulgate text, written on vellum (prepared
calfskin), in a bold and expert version of the script known as "insular
majuscule". The place of origin of
the Book of Kells is generally attributed to the scriptorium of the monastery
founded around 561 by St Colum Cille on Iona, an island off the west coast of
Scotland. In 806, following a Viking raid on the island which left 68 of the community
dead, the Columban monks took refuge in a new monastery at Kells, County Meath.
It must have been close to the year 800 that the Book of Kells was written,
although there is no way of knowing if the book was produced wholly at Iona or
at Kells, or partially at each location.
Earlier I
took the tram service which is called LUAS from one end of Dublin to the other
and back. It was a pleasant relaxing ride. I got off at one of the stops which allowed
me to visit the Kilmainham Gaol
(Jail) is one of the largest unoccupied gaols in Europe, it was involved in
some of the most heroic and tragic events in Ireland's history and its
emergence as a modern nation from 1780s to the 1920s. When it was built in 1796 and
was open over the 128 years it served as a prison, its cells held many of the
most famous people involved in the campaign for Irish independence. The British
imprisoned and executed the leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising here including
Padraig Pearse, Joseph Plunkett and Thomas Clarke. Children were sometimes arrested for petty
theft and held in the prison, the youngest said to be a seven year-old boy. Many of the adult prisoners were eventually
deported to Australia after their stay.
Men, women and children were imprisoned together, up to 5 in each cell,
often with only a single candle for light and heat. Most of their time was spent in the cold and
the dark as each candle had to last the prisoner for two weeks. At Kilmainham women were held in particularly
poor conditions considering it was an age that prided itself on a protective
attitude for the 'weaker sex'. As early
as his 1809 report the Inspector had observed that male prisoners were supplied
with iron bedsteads while females 'lay on straw on the flags in the cells and
common halls.' Fifty years later there was little improvement. The women's
section, located in the west wing, remained overcrowded.
After
that uplifting experience it was time to some of the pubs to hear Irish music. The pubs were packed and the music was great
however many players felt the need to stop playing Irish music and bring on
American tunes. There was a lot of hand
clapping, fiddle playing and load singing even if you did not know the words to
the song. All in all it was a fun night
of Pub Crawling” but was home by 10 pm. Conny
and I again engaged in conversation but did not stay up until 2 am again.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Dublin
Saturday, May 11, 2013 Dublin
The sun rise was beautiful and its
rays danced on the wing outside my window.
The ground could not be seen as it was covered with pure white
clouds. As we descended through the
clouds the clouds turned gray, rain streamed off the wing, and Ireland when it
came into view was a drab green. As we
approached the captain reported the temperature was 44 degrees on the ground
and I’m in shorts. It was 7:35 this
morning when we arrived at the gate. I
now had two things to do, one was find my bag and the other was to find
Mark. He was supposed to get here before
me but as the faiths would have it that is not the case. Since the plane I arrived on was not the
plane that my bag would have been on I needed to find out where it was. We whizzed through customs and I get a
chuckle at being asked yet again “You really like the UK don’t you?” “Yes I do…love it.” “Have a great stay!” and I’m off looking for
the customer service office.
After wandering about a bit I come
upon it then get into line. I’m behind a
young couple that appears to be completely bewildered and seem to believe there
luggage has not arrived with them. The
young man announces from the carousel that he has found their bags. The
young lady begins to move toward him with a look of non-belief on her face. Her face seems to be saying that he was not
capable of identifying and gathering their luggage. “How can we help?” and I explain the situation
of late planes, changed plans and arriving early. He makes a call then tells me my bag is in
Chicago and will be here tomorrow. Then
he wants to know where I’d like it delivered?
I happen to have the address where Mark made the reservations for out stay
in Dublin. O.K. one problem solved,
except I have no change of clothes until tomorrow, but what the hell. Now it is time to find Mark.
Two hours later Mark comes through
the door into the waiting area. I’ve
watched many reunions during that time.
Now it’s time to venture outside hunt down a bus and head to our digs
for the next six days. It is a gray day
outside the winds is blowing the rain around and people are bundled walking
slanted into it. After a short bus ride
we find out accommodations which, if the bus driver had not told me where to
look, we would have passed right by. Oops
too early to check in lets walk around town a bit. Sun comes out, goes away, rain comes down in
buckets, goes away, repeat. We duck in
to doorways to get out of the rain along with most everyone else on the
street. Lots of small streets with
little shops, the restaurants have, mostly girls, standing outside wanting you
to look at their menus. We stop at
Starbucks for some Wi-Fi connection and coffee.
Then we head back to the Hostel for directions to the train station and
the Ferry Port.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Life Is A Journey Not A Destination
5/10/2013 11:25
am Life Is A
Journey Not A Destination
So I’m supposed
to have been in the air ten minutes now however I’m not. According to the airline Chicago will not let
them take off and we will not take off until Noon. This means I arrive in Chicago just about the
time my plan to England takes off. The
lady at the counter gives me and assuring look and tells me it will be delayed
also. And so my adventure begins with
breakfast at an airport restaurant that cannot make toast and has nothing on
the menu that does not contain meat. Now
I have to wait until I get to Chicago to see if there is a connecting
flight. “They will take good care of you
if miss your flight.” I don’t want to be
taken care of I want to get to England.
I’m having a Stella! Oh my God
someone who resembles Lucy Lu just walked in. Looking at her takes my mind of Plane delays
for a bit anyhow.
Everyone wants
to know what my itinerary is this year.
Well I’m going to Dublin, hopefully at some point, then on to
Salisbury. I’ll be a steward at the
Salisbury International Arts Festival again this year before heading off to
points unknown. Those points way include
France, Spain, Austria or none of the above.
I just don’t know at this point what I want to do. I’ve been thinking about doing a bike ride
from Salisbury to Canterbury which would be about a five day ride. It would go to Winchester, the original seat
of power in England before moving to London.
Then riding through green rolling hills, small towns, and narrow back
roads accompanied by the signing birds and most likely some rain. Along this route is Pocahontas’s grave, a
castles and of course pubs.
My newest
position at the college is teaching a cognitive restructuring course at the
Coconino County Jail. The last thing we
discussed was “Life is a Journey not a Destination.” I think that I’m going to incorporated this
into the course in order to get the participants to look at the bigger
picture. My friend Gary and I have
talked quite a bit about missing what is happening around you by being focused
on, or waiting for something down the road to make us happy or give us a better
life. That’s the destination and while
doing that we miss out on all the things that could offer so much if we paid
attention. Recently I suggested a
possible side trip of a steam train ride up a mountain to the town on top to a
fellow traveler. The response was “what
is there?” It was not about what is
there it is about all the wonders along the way.
That being the
case I don’t want to get lost in the destination. For me this means returning to my original
model of picking out an end point then enjoying the route whatever that maybe to
get there. Once there it will be time to
look around at a place I’ve never been and enjoying the end point as part of
the journey. Or if it is a place I’ve
been before look around to see what I did not the last time there. Now that being said I’m going to “lose the
attitude old man” and enjoy the journey.
I have a nice seatmate; a fairly nice ride and will arrived in Chicago approximately
and hour late. My connection to Heathrow
may or may not have left that remains to be seen. Not sure when, how or if I’ll arrived in
Europe this year and the journey sure will be interesting. I am so use to getting on the plane making my
connections and getting off in England that I’m spoiled. We are heading down in to Chicago more later.
After leaving
the plane I’m informed that the plane to Heathrow is at gate K12. Off I go down the concourse to find my gate
and hopefully there will be a plane waiting.
On the way I glance at the flight board and notice there is a plane a
gate K6 bound for Dublin which is currently boarding. As I walk past gate K6 I see that all are
boarding and there is a last call. I
stop and walk back to the counter and ask the attendant if I could ask a
“stupid question?” I explain show him my
boarding passes and he says “that plane is already left. We’ll put you on this one.” This is a direct flight to Dublin with no
need to stop at Heathrow and change planes.
No extra money just here’s your boarding pass on you go. I’m the last one to board the plane and low
and behold I have two seats all to myself.
Dinner and two
wines later it’s time to get some rest.
I’m a happy camper God has taught me yet again to just trust. Stop trying to control and trust that all
will be taken care of. More tomorrow in
Dublin which is boasting a high of 44.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
A Day I'll Never Forget
Saturday, June 02, 2012
2:26 PM Arizona, 11:26 PM Spain
A most wonderful day! Today I was determined to get up and make
sure I had a seat for the mass that the cathedral because it was the day the
“Botafumeiro” will be used. I’m very sad that Lisa will not be there with
me and I’m really missing her presents beside me now. After arriving at the cathedral, around 7:30
AM, it’s time to scope out the best seat and make it mine. It is chilly in here but, that’s O.K. I’m not
moving from this seat at least that’s what I thought. Eight thirty rolls around, It’s cold and now
have to pee but, I’m not moving. So I’ll
risk running to a local bar, yes they are open early on Sunday morning, buy a
cup of coffee and relieve myself. I’m
back in the cathedral with only a few others were there with me not the throngs
I’d expected. The waiting gives me time
to contemplate some of what has happened since we started the Camino.
From the start I became more aware of my
surrounding and the people in them like watching a movie of us from above. I see Lisa and me moving through the world
and interacting with our surroundings.
There seems to be a guiding hand moving us along and toward certain
people. Riding the bike, then walking,
then using the bus, then walking again all had some reason for happening when
it did. We are really very tolerant of
each other, putting all judgments away, our spirits enjoying the presents of
the other. We are able to walk for miles either talking
or not, taking pictures of the same things because we both find them
interesting. We are able to talk
intimately about our lives, making observations with no need to get into an
argument over every statement. Feeling
the same things at the same time and knowing by just looking at each other. I
can’t count the number of time we just looked at each other and started
laughing, just knowing. It seems that
each person met along the way had something to teach us together and
individually. Each had advice, or a
story to share about their lives that would touch ours.
It is now around 11:30 AM mass
will start in another half hour. I sit
on a wooden pew with tears in my eyes.
The mass would not start until Noon and this spot would be mine when the
cathedral filled. My camera us ready
having been fully charged the night before.
From time to time I’d lift my head leaving a wet warm spot where my chin
had rested on my chest. There were dark
spots on my shirt from tears that ran down my face. I wiped at them with a hand that had already
been dampened by those already shed.
Looking about this ancient fortress of God’s I though this is not the way it was supposed to end. But,
this was how it was ending no matter how many times I looked up to see if she
was walking through the door across the transept from me. Of course I knew that only happened in the movies. There were no busses from Finisterre to get
her here in time for Mass. Then the
miracle happened I look up to see Lisa coming down the aisle with a huge smile
on her face. I’m dumbfounded as we grab hold
of each other with tears and smiles. At
that moment there was no one else in the church but us hanging on to each other. She cared enough about me to put aside what
she had planned. She said it was just not right for us not to finish
the trip together. We watched Botafumeiro
swing blessing all the pilgrims present enjoying this wonderful service
together. I believe we were both happy
in our hearts and spirits that the Camion worked this out.
Posted: 10/19/2014
Friday, June 1, 2012
The Long Lonely Ride
Friday, June
1, 2012
After breakfast we are on the bus to Finisterre “the end of
the world.” Lisa has indeed decided that
she will stay there tonight while I return to Compostela to attend mass
tomorrow then head back to Leon. I’m
really disappointed that we will not be attending the mass together which to me
is kind of like closure to the journey.
After reaching town we again follow the Camion to the Cape which has
become kind of an official end of the Camino.
We get lost then find our way eventually reaching the rugged cost line
which once marked the end of the known world.
Pilgrims have left shoes and other personal items they have worn here to
signify they had made the journey safely and it is over. Others will burn an item of clothing for the
same reason. We did not have anything to
burn or leave so we had a glass of wine and headed back to town.
This would be our last dinner together which was quite rushed
as we were unsure of when the bus would leave.
We are not saying much and I see a bus pull in so I go over to see if it
will take me back to Compostela alone.
It is and I run back to where Lisa is sitting grab my stuff trying hard
not to cry hug her and head to the bus.
The ride back to Compostela was one of the loneliest times of my
life. I cried most of the way back
trying to hide my emotions from the rest of the passengers. There was a bit of a laugh as I listened to
a Mormon pilgrim telling some German fellow about his religion but that was
short lived.
I cannot explain how lonely I was that night wandering the
path Lisa and I had traveled to get back to the Albergue. I stopped in at the corner café and listened
again as the local fellows began to sign.
Tonight they seemed to sense and were singing sad songs not the gay ones
of a night ago. Back in the Albergue
with enough wine in me to insure sleep I laid down to sleep knowing Lisa was
not in a bunk near me for the first time in a month. So very sad and so very lonely yet again.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Santiago de Compstela
Thursday,
May 31, 2012
I find it funny to wake up and find Lisa hidden underneath a
mountain of blankets. There have been
times I’ve looked really hard as I could not tell if she was in there, or had
gotten up early and left. But, as I
begin to stir she pokes her head out and I’m assured she is still there. We shower, dress and are on the road along
with many other pilgrims. We walk a
narrow road that we share with cars carrying folks off to their
destinations. Some wave as they pass,
others stare straight ahead deep in thoughts of their own. We come upon a campground called Camping San
Marcos with a small café. We stop for
some coffee along with a tostada watching pilgrims filing by. We use the facilities before heading down
the path.
We reach the top of Monte del Gozo which was once just a
green hill and chapel. But, because of
the Pope’s visit in 1989 the top was leveled and a “Albergue” which can hold
3000 people army barrack like, there is a rather interesting sculpture which
seem not to have a name but commemorates the Pope’s visit as well as St.
Francis of Assisi’s and World Youth day.
From here we look down into Santiago de Compostela and see the spires of
the cathedral. I light a candle for us
in the chapel before we had down to town.
We come to the Albergue Santo Santiago secure our beds then it is off to
the Cathedral de Compostela de Santiago.
We are disappointed that there is a barrier about the pillar which holds
the statue of St. James. There are five deep
indentations on the pillar where over the century’s pilgrims hands have touched
at the end of their journey.
We go to the pilgrim office to get our certificate of
completion. We are hoping that the
couple who picked up Lisa’s credential has dropped it off here. Lisa is again disappointed that they have not
and she will not get her certificate of completion. I feel guilty that I have mine in hand and
quickly put it away so as not to be a reminder.
We wander around town running into many of those lives have touched
us. Once more we run into Joseph and we
are not like old friends joyous to see each other. We have dinner together then again wander the
town making plans for tomorrow. We go to
the bus station where I purchase a ticket to return to Leon and my bike. Wander around the neighborhood then back to
the Albergue.
Down the street on the corner is a café in the Hotel San
Lazare where we stop in to have some wine.
There are a lot of locals there and the owner knows them all by
name. It is fun to watch as she banters
with the locals. Soon several of the
gents there begin to sing Spanish songs for our entertainment as well as their
own. We are having a great time an then
realize that we’ll soon be locked out of our Albergue. This will soon be our local watering hole
since it is close to the Albergue. The
owner is friendly enough but we never learn her name and I wonder if the locals
know it? We have purchased tickets to
take a bus to Finisterre tomorrow. Lisa
tells me she is thinking about staying there and hiking back to Compostela
before she heads home. I was hoping we
would attend mass together then head out.
Seems that’s not to be.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Tomorrow Compostela
Wednesday, May 30th, 2012
We get up
early then after having homemade breakfast in the Albergue Monasterio de La
Magdalena down we go to the bus terminal.
The decision has been made to take the bus to Lavacolla then walk to
Compostela which is only 7.5 km away. We
head, yet again, to Logo where we will transfer to the bus that will take us to
Lavacolla. Today we spend most to the
day bussing through the Spanish state of Galicia. Most to the telephone poles, church steeples,
chimneys we pass have a stork nest in them.
We travel beside and new highway under construction but it seems to have
not much in the way of constructing going on.
Lisa is asleep in the seat ahead of me and after typing a bit I think
I’ll dose off also.
I am half wake, half asleep looking
out the window watching the country side slide by. I’m trying to make sense of this adventure
and smile dreamily as pictures of Lisa and I having fun slowly play in my
mind’s eye. A tear sneaks out as the
thought of our journey ending soon comes to mind. Silly
I think to myself. We work in the same
office and will be hanging out together soon.
But, what comes to mind is that I’ve had her to myself for almost three
weeks now. She has been someone to
share, laughter, sadness, life, and ideas with which I’ve not had in a very
long time. Several times we have walked
down the road holding hands with no need to speak. Just walking and enjoying the silence,
scenery, fresh air, azure sky, and each other.
From the time we joined in Paris to now I have been content. Not worried about the things in life that
distract me from just enjoying being.
Not being caught up in the things of the past, or allowing the worry
about what tomorrow will bring to distract from this time together. I am happy.
The bus stops at a wide spot in the
road and we, along with several other pilgrims, head toward the path the drive
pointed to. We are back on the Camino de
Santiago now heading towards Compostela.
It is late, we are hungry and discuss that if we get into Compostela to
late there may not be a bed to be had.
We come up on a motel kind of place called Casa de Amancio smile and
walk in. After paying for our room we
relax in the court yard with a lady from Canada. We all have wine and are enjoying the breeze,
sun and conversation. There is also a
fellow from Germany who tells us more information about his sex life then we
need to know. Lisa and I will be sharing
a room again for the last time. I go for
a walk while Lisa takes a nap before dinner. I find, what looks like, a broken walking
stick on the side of the road. After
playing with it for a few minutes it’s as good a new. I find beautiful park with a brook running
through it and sun lite filtering through the trees. I sit on an old stone bench in this serene
space again thinking on the journey.
I meet an old man whose mule is
pulling a wagon filled with what looks like Kale. He sits and I go over to talk with him. We do not speak each other’s language but
manage to have a short conversation.
This is the first time I wish I could speak Spanish. He has live in this area for a long time and
met a lot of pilgrims. I’m talking to
walking history, but cannot understand much of what is said. We say “Buenos Noches” and I head in for
dinner. Lisa and I enjoy dinner over
another of our conversation about our lives, and then decide we do not have to
rush tomorrow. We return to our room,
she on the couch and I at the table doing some typing. She falls asleep so I pack up, wake her and
we head off to our respective beds.
Buen Camino
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