the road is all

2005-12-30T10:08:00.000-08:00

TIME TOWARD HOME, from CZECH to AMSTERDAM to NEW JERSEY/YORK and COLORADO

Wednesday 28 December
Because of danger of icy roads, left Karlovy Vary at 2am, arriving Praque at 4am from which we left at 7:30. Tried to get on stand-by to Newark but learned, in fact, the cost would be $200 per ticket. So we agreed to spend the day in AMSTERDAM and fly out the next day.
Took Ibis Courtesy Van to hotel where Patti (who'd stayed up all night till 1 am talking with Jana) slept for several hours. I journaled and started rereading "Don Quijote," much easier this second time through.
In mid-afternoon we hotel van and metro to City Centrum (6 Euro this way and 20 minutes, rather than by 30 Euro cap and 30 minutes). Wandered the streets and canals with thousands of people (on holiday) and thousands of bicycles. Saw from street St. Nicholas Church, the National Monument, outside skating rink, Trussand Wax Museum, and others. Headed toward the Rikdmuseum we saw poster about "BYZANTIUM - JERUSALEM" exhibit in the HERMITAGE AMSTERDAM MUSEUM, a collection of artefacts lent from L'ERMITAGE in St. Petersburg with whom this museum collaborates. It was an amazing collection of Russian Pilgrimages to the Holy Lands and back stuff. Such pilgrimages began in 4th century CE by Helena from Constantiniple and has continued through the centuries, but especially by Russian pilgrims since the 10th century with height in 17-20th centuries. The tsars made huge collection of relics and more. Among the things we saw were...
Wood from THE TRUE CROSS first found by Helena between thieves crosses.
Called "staurotheke"
True Cross Wood slivers often put in silver cross, then in a rectangularbox,
and encased with a silver lid having skull of Adam (sinners) below crucifix.
AMPULLA, small vials/bottles for holy water or oil, of clay pottery often decorated.
CROSSES --
Processional (smaller than Catholic)
Pectoral, hollow ones held relics, fabric, bone, sand, stone, ash, etc.
Lecturn would show Christ on one side, Mary or St. George, etc. on other side
John of the Cross often on cross with arms raised in prayer
Jesus sometimes shown treading on an asp (devul, evil)
Mary and John, per usual, at side of crucified Jesus
Solid gold cross given to Nicholas I by Patriarch Athansius c. 1850.
ICONS of Hodegetria ("Pointing the Way") or Nicholas the Wonderworker, etc.
Fishhead bone icons showing baptism, miraculous draught, St. Ida, etc.
Mother of Pearl-
Wood-cut (delicate, tiny) nativities, crucifixions, etc.; "Mt. Golgotha" base
LAMPS (clay) and CENSERS (bronze)
SPOONS, SPADE KNIFE, CIBORIUM
(When Virgin is not shown, it may be Nestorian Church relic, as they believed she gave birth to a man child and is not Theotokos.
Wow! Deep collection.
Had Dutch beers (dark, light, white) and foods (steak, chicken) for dinner.

Thursday 29 December
At 9:30 am began eight hour flight to America, enjoying individual choice movies. We watched "Groundhog Day" (fun, classic); I "Troy"; Patti "March of the Penquins."
At 1pm EST we landed in NEWARK LIBERY and found the warm embrace of Robbie and Sid.

ARE WE HOME NOW? Let's say so. We've been "on the road" three months.
MAY THIS JOURNAL END? YES. Let it (though we have some days here in New Jersey and in the City of New York and with Jan and Sarah Erickson-Thomas, etc.).
The main Spain-Tanzania-Czech traveling are over.
Do I have any SUM IT ALL UP THOUGHTS? Not yet.
But I think the blogspot might be renamed THE CAMINO IN FALL.

2005-12-24T22:58:00.000-08:00

PRAGUE/PRAHA and Back to K.V.

Tuesday 20 December
At Jan's Church's "Silent [centering] Prayer" group this morning I had this calliphatic verse from "O Little Town of Bethlehem" come into my head and then go singing out my mouth:
How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is giv'n
How God imparts to human hearts
The wonders of his love.
Isn't it the truth?
After prayer I went to the Albert Supermarket nearby to buy Rioja wine for Christmas table gifts.
Patti discovered that our return flight schedule has a full day layover in Amsterdam; she got on email trying to fix this so we can fly back in one day. The outlook is just to fly standby or do the stay-over but not pay $200 per ticket for a change.
Then, off to PRAGUE.
...with two stops: (1) at a Porcelain Factory Outlet Store to get a three-angels gift for Jana's family and (2) at a pre-WWII Czech Army Bunker in heavy concrete which connected to other bunkers by underground tunnels. They were never used to defend the country as Chamberlain gave away the Sudetland (Czech territory) to Hitler in 1938.
Arriving Prague and Daniella & Pavel Kejr's flat -- they are Jana's parents -- we went sans Johy by electric tram to Old Town Square to enjoy lights, shopping stalls and stores, tourists (from every4where, lots from Japan), churches, 'Bethlehem' (Czech name for manger scene) in straw figures, Hus's statue, the clock, Moravian twist confection (yum!), etc. We ended up walking over the Karlos Most (bridge) in the cold and dark. It was beautiful with all the reflective lights shining yellow across the moving water. Patti and I touched Nepomuk-being-defenestrated on his statue there. Took bus back home, checked by a checker to be sure we had tickets. Girls got off to shop in the Carreform Mall, getting Ballatine's Scotch and Bailey's Irish Cream and checking on a DVD-VCR player.

Wednesday 21 December -- Prague, continued
Spent most of the day in the CZECH NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM, a marvelously deep 100+ years collection. It is at the head of Vaclavske/Wenselaus Square (a rectangle, really). Saw many of the world's animals taxidermied are there, including some from the US (e.g., buffalo and diamond-back rattlers) and from Tanzania (e.g., warthogs and zebras), AND from Czech lands -- Johy's famous Kretek (mole) -- but dark gray, not black as shown on her DVD programs. While Patti stretched out on a bench to rest, J,J & I went through the modern communications section, doing TV anchoring and voice over recordings.
Had lunch at McDonald's with its guarded restroom (no off the street walk-ins) and then returned to the museum while the girls went shopping, finding bright pink matching knit hats. Very cute. [My they have fun together!] Jan and I worked our way through the paleontology wing, amazed at the ingenuity of people 5000 years BCE (e.g., their ability to drill a perfectly round hole in a rock axe head for a handle. We followed progression thru stone age to copper to bronze to iron. Jewelry for vanity was there at every age, and from the earliest times Great Mother Figure statuetes (usually especially big of butt, large breasts optional) or, also, called Venus's. The anthropological wing had skulls and bones broken and medically mended from primitive times; saw one syphillis head.
At 5 pm we found ourselves in the Jesuit Chapel near the Bridge for a soprano-saxaphone-organ concert of Bach, Mozart, etc. music, including Christmas carols. The ceiling frescoes were mostly of heroines of the faith -- Hagar, Judith, Miriam, and others, including, of course, the Virgin. Afterwards we again walked over Karlos Most and found the behind-a-news-stand Czech cafe which had been so wonderful three summers ago in the outdoor courtyard. Enjoyed beers, pita sandwiches and a spice cake with coffee. On the walk home (one hour) we went by the "Sins of Communism" memorial (sobering) and then up and over the hill past the all-wood, no nails, Orthodox Church (exquisite) moved here from the Ukraine in the 1920s. Then bed and, for me, a three-pees night (too much beer and coffee).

Thursday 22 December
Carreform Shopping Center walked to and back. Super soup by Daniella. Then, with Johy in pram, up the hill passing by the house of Milada Horakova who was an attorney and member of parliament in the 30s. Hitler put her in prison for almost six years. When she got out she spoke against the communist take-over and, so, in 1950 was tried in a mock trial and executed. A brave woman. The StB (cf. the Soviet KGB) was terrible here, especially after the failed '67 liberalization ("Communism with a human face") attempt. The StB had something like 20,000 agents + police + army + informants, all = about 2-5% of population in its surveillance network, 1968-89.
Our walk up also took us by the planetarium, army barracks, the Norbertine Monastery, the Loretta Bells, and onto the Church-Castle grounds, but it all closed down at 4 pm, sending us down the hills where, in a shop, Patti found some honey amber earrings, and we all drank hot mulled wine. Walked about 3/4ths the way back to the apartment for supper of long skinny sausages -- and cookies, of course. P & I watched Woody Allen's "Hannah and Her Sisters" while the Kejrs cut up fish for soup and made potato salad with a green vegetable (pickles!).

Supplement:
THE SENSES AND THE CZECH REPUBLIC
For SIGHT -- Reflecting lights on River Vltava; snow falling in the woods
For SOUND -- J & J singing together in the Bethlehems Chapel; Johy squealing "Krekec"
For SMELL -- Brats cooking in open air market; chocolate in shop next to church
For TASTE -- The mothers' soups and everyone's cookies; even the carp (kapr) was good
For FEEL -- Piercing wet cold; warmth of handshakes and embraces

Friday 23 December -- Prague to Karlovy Vary
At 9:30 the five of us went in the car to the Church-Castle grounds. First checked out St. George's 12th century Gothic Church, then worked our way along the Golden Street (named for the alchemists who lived/worked here in the late 15th century under King Rudolf II; on this street Franz Kafka once lived. Then P & I took a English language tour of St. Vitus' Church and Charles IV's Castle. The church was begun in 12th century but not completed till the 20th; it has John Nepomuk's bones (with his undecayed tongue?) intered here. The castle's main room is so big they used to have tournament joisting there; we saw the room of the Second Defenestration, where the Catholic princes were thrown out by the Hussites, praying as they fell, "Mary, help us"...and she did, letting them land safely in a dung heap. The incident inspired Catholics to win the Battle of White Mountain in 1420 which turned Bohemia into a Catholic and not a Hussite country. They lived under the Hapsburgs of Austria for over 500 years.
While girls went to find red gift eggs, Jan and I did the History of the Castle Tour -- all for free this day. Lots of artifacts and great (2 meters wide) medalion-crests were shown.
Then back to Kejrs for ham dinner with the extended family, Jana's sister Mysa, her husband Petro, and children Tonda (6) and Johy's beloved Erma (2). Christmas presents included play kitchen sinks for the girls which Pavel made of wood and equipped. Remarkable. The girls loved them. The family sang, laughed, drank our Rioja wine, and we all hit the cookies hard.
At 6:30 we went back to K.V. listening to contemporary folksongs by the singer featured in the movie, "Rox Dabla"/"Rock Devil." His songs remember the Holocaust and sound for peace, among several themes. Johy slept. On return Jan got busy connecting the new DVD-LCD player AND setting up a computer table in the living room where I can work easily/comfortably, near the coffee pot and cookie jar.

Christmas Eve, Saturday 24 December
Patti got out 20 Christmas notes to family and friends, and I worked on our blogspot. Jan was after his sermon and Jana our Christmas dinner. In the mid pm P. and I did a long walk up the riverfront street, browsing a few of the shops still open. For a hundred crowns ($4.00!) I bought a copy of the English language Herald Tribune (published by the New York Times). Seems like Bush's spying is starting to come under surveillance by the NYT and the Congress. 'Bout time.
At 5pm we had this most unique-to-us/traditional-to-Czech dinner: Carp! called 'kapr' here). It came in a delicious fish soup which Jana's father made with fish eye balls and parts; and it came battered and fried as V-shaped cross section of the fish. The taste was excellent with the bones only a minor problem. We also had schneiztel and potato salad (like we would have on July 4). All good with Czech champagne and beer plus Spanish Rioja. During the meal we listened on to the Czech Mass composed by a small village musician, Ryba, and now a Christmas time "must hear" in this country. The communists even alowed it because it came "from the people."
Presents here are opened on Christmas Eve and not on Christmas morning. Instead of Santa bringing them, the thought is that they come from the Baby Jesus, but Santa is starting to overtake him. Patti and I received Czech film DVDs ("United" and "Celery"). We sang songs, cracked walnuts, drank Bailey's Irish Cream (new tradition by Patti), and started to watch "Waiting for Guffman," but were too tired.

Christmas, Saturday 25 December
"Not a creature was stirring..." -- not even a Krekec -- when I arose at 5:00 thinking about Christmas mornings past. Truly it is DIFFERENT for me, not having to do five (5) services in two days as when we'd get a Saturday Christmas Eve + Sunday Christmas back to back.
Jon led the church's service that day and preached on/from John's story of the Cleansing of the Temple. This is part of a twice-a-month series on the 4th Gospel which he's now doing. The text really does not fit Christmas but he told me later-- as we could not understand the Czech spoken -- that he made mention of 'the Word became flesh' (incarnation) in the intro to the sermon, including my story about the child when knows God is with her in the dark but would like "someone with skin on." The preaching was 40 minutes. I think Jan is an Anselmist believing in the blood sacrificial atonement theory and not a subscriber to the Abelardian or exemplar theory to which I am drawn. He said my idea that God wants what we have (namely, a body)is a more aesthetic interpretation. I really enjoy talking with him. Patti and Jana say its "Blah-blah-blah," but he and I can talk about sermon themes, church care, theological issues, etc. And we do.
Patti, not feeling well, went for a three (3) hour nap while Jan and I went to a Pzjin String Sextet Concert up at the Grand Pupp Hotel ballroom. It was a table candlelight affair with fruit and cookies on the table to eat! They played Mozart, Bach, Ryba, and others -- quite well, I imagine. The audience was over half German.
At home Patti did her cuisine wonder Madrigal Dinner with mandarine salad, rolled stuffed roast pork, steamed broccoli, mashed potatoes, and bread with honey butter. I loved it. Not sure the Valeses had ever had such a version of pork. We caught a little of Pope Benedict's Christmas message, heard some opera singers on television, sang some songs ourselves, played card games (e.g., Black Jack) and ended the evening with "Waiting for Guffman."

Monday 26 December
The day-after-Christmas is a holiday in Czech too. Mid afternoon we five went on a "Walk in the Woods" pushing the pram with Johy in it up the hills above Karlovy Vary. Jan says it goes for 30-40 kilometers further and he often sees deer when he jogs through it. I kept thinking of Robert Frost's poem:
The woods are lovely dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Coming out of the woods we found the gold onion domes on the Orthodox shining magnificently in the late afternoon sun.
Patti and I had leftovers alone this night. We "sat" Johy while Jan and Jana went on the town to celebrate her upcoming birthday. He gave her a beautiful pair of mother-of-pearl earrings. Jana loves jewelry more than, say, clothes or dishes.

Tuesday 27 December
Thinking that Centering Prayer must have been cancelled, I lit a candle and meditated in the living room with the Christmas tree. (Later I learned that Jan had just overslept.)
As Patti and Jana worked on getting our purchases of cut glass, porcelain plates, etc. into IKEA bags and a suitcase, Jan and I talked about non-violence (me quoting Gandhi that "Christians are the only people in the world who don't believe Jesus was a believer in non-violence"; and we talked for the third time, anyway, about denominations in Czech. They are (I think)
CATHOLIC - brought here from Germany in 9th century just a the missionaries to the Slavs, Cyril and Methodius, came with Byzantine language influence; they really came back with defeat of the Protestants at the end of the Thirty Years War in the 17th century.
HUSSITE - Jon Hus (who was burned at the stake) wanted communion in both kinds ("Utraquist") which was granted well after his death to the Bohemians only. The Hussites regrouped in 1880 to be Czech Catholics with no ties to Rome. They are not really Protestant.
United Czech Church - A joinging of Lutheran and Evangelical (Reformed or Protestant) churches who also took in non-charismatic Moravians, aka Unitas Fratrum, in the last century. They are closest to mainline, theologically trained Protestants.
CZECH BRETHREN -- Jan's denomination, begun in 1880 by Scotish Presbyterians AND the Congregational Missionary Society. They tend to be more evangelical and pietistic.
RUSSIAN ORTHODOX - Came in through Slovakia which borders Russia. Peter the Great built the beautiful Orthodox Church here.
METHODIST -- Perhaps 20 churches in Czech, the one here in a building bought from the Anglicans built in days when English royalty and elites came here for the Spas.
BAPTIST, 7TH DAY ADVENTISTS, MORAVIANS (charismatic branch), WORD OF LIFE (Swedish Pentecostols), and MORMON. Maybe others.
All "approved" churches are government-subsidized, so clergy salaries are paid by the state.
At noon we five went to Supermarket shopping and, later, Jon and I to auto supply store to get him a socket set as Christmas gift. After Johy's nap we five went out for a more typical Czech restaurant with me getting duck and cabbage (two types) and Patti a crock pot goulash. All was tasty in spite of the heavy smoking in the place. We recalled
HIGHLIGHTS OF OUR DAYS IN CZECH
Patti - laughing with Jana
Jim - hearing Jan and Jana sing
Jan - working on car repair with me helping
Jana - shopping at 6 am in the dark with Patti
We also recalled many other indicents, like "scoring the prayers" ("8.4" by the Russian judge) at grace time, Hunza running down highway in the snow to diagnos the traffic accident, "hairy dumplings," Kolanada waffles, garnet garnering, Johy's laughter and vocabulary increase (including English, e.g. "Duk-Duk"), the 40 Crown tablecloth, Czech movies with discussion, beers and wines, Czech mass, "Kretek," Charles Bridge with its one-man-band, hideaway dinner, Kapr in the tanks and on the table, Almond Truffles, crystal purchases, etc., etc.
Tears at the table and when we said "Goodnight."

2005-12-24T13:45:00.000-08:00

CZECH REPUBLIC, Northern Bohemia and Back

Thursday 16 December -- DAY OF THE MEALS
Picked up at 8 by Jan Vales Sr. and taken to their house/parsonage for the first of three incredible meals. The woman, the mother, Milada, can cook! The apricot and chokecherry jam at breakfast was a delight. Lunch soup was to die for, and then came the 'Hairy Dumplings' (dumplings rolled in sour kraut -- the best way to have sour kraut I've ever known. Dinner was a cold salad formed in a mold in the shape of a fish, with pickles as scales, pimiento olives as neck ring, sliced eggs for the eyes, small corns making the tail, and cheese and other goodies; and inside a ham-ish salad with cheese. Amazing. Roughly, it looked like a trout or podoustev, as it is called here. The dessert served was the best cake I've ever had, a carmelized honey on the cake split by a creme fill. Oh me, oh my.
The day also included a trip to Liberec, 50 kms away, to visit a modern Czech Brethren Church and the city square. Patti found a beautiful garnet ring...so my Christmas gift is taken care of. She also found an antique garnet necklace, single strand, quite nice.
After dinner I got the Vales seniors to talk about life under the Nazis and the Communists. Ten years after 1958 (Communist take over), religion had not 'withered away' as predicted in Marxist ideology. So the government began to super regulate and harrass the churches, like not allowing them to have a youth camp but a family one was permitted -- so their families came with ten or more children each!
Great cookies, e.g. macaroons, jelly filled, almond served all day long.
Of cooks, Milada is without peer.

Friday 16 November
Of tour guides, Jan Sr. is without peer too. Today he drove us out of town to a typical turn-of-the-last-century cottage where beads were made by home technology. Such industry arose in these poor farm lands because there was plenty of sand (silicon) for melting and firewood for the melting furnaces. The melting fire we saw was made from controlled fire from wicked oil-gas made into directed flame by pistol air nozzles supplied by a foot pumped bellows. When the glass stick put into the flame jet gets hot enough, the tip begins to melt and droop; at this time a 6 inch metal unpointed needle is used to catch the molten drop and spin it off roundly. This is not easy, we all learned by trying: my molten bead became a long glass string--which broke.
For inexpensive the girls bought some jewelry, including pieces for Lewkie-mom and the granddaughters.
Our glassmaker also had a ski bindings museum.
After this amazing moring, later in the p.m. we went to the Glass and Costume Jewellry Museum, the effect of which is that I'll never think of costume jewelry as 'cheap' again. The stuff that can be made with glass crafting is incredibly beautiful -- vases, tiaras, rings. Patti bought a loverly red-purple-orange bracelet.
Milada's meals were, again, superb, especially the 'typical' potato soup at lunch. Here at the table the Vales Quartet sang a song in Czech, even as they had the day before in the Church. What hamony those four made. Both singings just brought tears to my eyes.
It snowed all this day, and, in spite of road conditions, such snow was beautiful ('graciz').
We drove back to Karlovy Vary in the snow and ice, conditions which caused a bus to ram into a Vietnamese salesman's rear. Jan ran in the cold to appraise the accident and saw that we could squeeze through. Thus he did another of his magic tricks to weave us through the vehicles to get us home by 1:30. Johunka -- bless her heart -- slept through it all.

Saturday 17 December
Quiet day. Jan and I went to the grocery store before he had leave for Youth Work in a nearby town. Jana worked on a Johy Calendar for her parents. Patti started making matching tablecloth and napkins for the Vales's. Having finished 'Dorian Gray,' I started reading 'Prague, My Love,' a tour book for the city and its history with just enough sparks between English traveler and Czech guide to make it interesting. The chapters took the reader through primitive, Romanesque, Gothic, Barogue, Neo-Classical, and Communist eras in buildings and historical character (Wenseslaus, Hus, John Nepomuk, Benes, etc.). In the p.m. J&J practiced a singing duet with his guitar accompaniment for worship tomorrow. P & I swept and mopped the stairs and landings, a weekly duty. In the evening we watched and episode of 'Friends' and then a movie, funny and tragic, about a disintegrating Czech families where the only whole person was the son who ran off to Australia. A baby-snatching woman was most pathetic. The underworld was also shown. The movie was called 'Upside - Downside.'

Sunday 18 December
In the cold and dark at 7 am, Jana, Patti, and I went to the outdoor flea market where P. gots some crystal bowls, egg holders, and a tea cup, Jana purchased a scootet for Hunza (Jan) to get around town.
The church preacher this day was the head of the Bible Society who talked about the positive effect for faith and literacy the Bible translation for Ethiopia had. He said the 95% of the world now has a Bible translation but, still, there were 4000 languages not yet done. At communion Jan retold my interpretation that the manger scenes -- they're called 'Bethlehem' in Czech -- is not a story of the beginning of Christianity but of the end of the world in reconciled fulfillment. The Vales's singing was gorgeous; they ought to do a recording.
Patti and I looked at some store cystal (champagnes, wine, cordial glasses) which by Monday was bought. That evening we five did grocery shopping ($160) in the German supermarket, Kaufland. The shopping provided a wonderful Patti salad and pizza. "The Life of Brian" was watched that evening, which provided the girls occasion to speak British in the days to come.
The best news of the day was that, for the first time, Johy will come and sit in lap or Patti's, something she would not do til this date. I won her confidence by a hide and seek game with little yellow ducks: "Duk-Duk."

Tuesday 19 December
Mildly "stir crazy," I went on big walk through Karlovy Vary up to 'the spout' and St. Mary Magdalene Catholic Church (quite barogue), coming back with a copy of "USA Today." Started re-reading "Signs of Intelligence," and am finding myself, surprisingly, open to Design Theory for the universe. Would love to have better scientific heads than mine talk about evolution and ID -- which is not Creationism or Genesis-is-Right theory.
In the evening P & I were guest interviewees for a English language class taught here in the building. We sang carols for each other and together. Later Jan and I watched the German version of Law and Order which has lots more car crashes. The we re-watched "Pelinsky," the funny-to-tragic movement of life in Czech just before the '68 Warsaw Pact squashing of "Communism with a Human Face."

2005-12-13T04:58:00.001-08:00

OVERVIEW OF THE TRIP
(On Sunday 11 December Jim was invited to do a "Greetings" to the Czech Brethren Church in Karolovy Vary, and it ended up being something of a summary of our journey to date. Here it is, slightly revised:)

"Dekuji!" ["Thank you" in Czech] for welcoming us here -- and back here from two summers ago -- to worship with you. I give you...

GREETINGS FROM THE FAITHFUL OF FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH IN COLORADO SPRINGS.
(Your pastor, Jan Vales, preached in this church in ´02 and, with wife Jana, sang at the same time.) Ours is vital 700-member outpost of the church, from whose pulpit I retired this May after serving for 16 years. I ask you to pray for our church as, this very day, the congregation is hearing a candidating sermon to select a new senior minister. [As it turned out, the church called Ben Broadbent to the post.] "Dekuji!"

Now, a word about our travels...
As Patti and I plan to live in Colorado Springs and remain members of the church, it seemed to us that it might be helpful to the church -- and to us -- to be away for a while as the new minister settles in. THEREFORE, we have been on pilgrimage for these months of the fall, spending time in three countries: Spain, Tanzania (Africa), and, now, the beautiful Czech Republic. I can and do, then, give you...

GREETINGS FROM THE FAITHFUL ON THE CAMINO DE SANTIAGO DE COMPOSTELA
Santiago is a city in northwest Spain where the "relics" (that is, bones) of Saint James the Major (brother of Jesus) are believed to be buried in the huge cathedral there. For over 1200 years Santiago has been a major pilgrimage destination, much like Jerusalem and Rome. Millions and millions of people from all over Europe -- and now the world -- have walked to Santiago. For most it is an act of devotion. So
Patti and I went of this pilgrimage to (1) deepen our roots in the faith of Jesus Christ and (2) discern what next to do with our lives or HOW to do it.
We left St. Jean Pied de Port in France on October 1 and did, for five and a half weeks, walk the almost 800 kilometers (475 miles) across northern Spain. [Jan thought that, as Americans, we were surely doing this by car!] We stayed in places called albergues (cf. hostels), traveling through Pamplona, Burgos, Leon, Astorgia and other cities and towns. We walked in the rain and sun, heat and cold, amidst falling leaves, from sunrise to sunset till we got to Santiago on November 7.
As "perigrinos" (pilgrims) we walked in the company of many persons from all over Europe, the Americas, Australia, Southeast Asia, even from Lichtenstein. For us this was an exercise for devotion; for some others it was mostly "exercise"; but for all it was a deepening experience, I´m sure. Patti says that, for her, "The best part was WALKING IN SILENCE, that silence broken only by the sound of cow bells, sheep bells, and church bells."

[A note: as people learned we were from the United States, they regularly asked, "Has your country gone crazy?" I´d then show them a note I´d penned inside my hat which read, "No vote' para Bush!" And I would tell them that this war against Iraq is the most evil thing America has ever done. It may well cause Americans to be regarded with the same suspicion for the next 50 years as the Germans have been regarded in the last 50 years.
Anyway, I am ashamed of my country and told fellow pilgrims so. And I share the same with you, asking that we all might join in prayer and work for peace. Killing is not the way of Jesus. Torturing is not the way of Jesus.
Let me return to our journeying...]

After we left Santiago, Patti and I traveled for a few weeks further in Spain, to Madrid (where Picasso's 'Guernica' hangs), Cadiz (Christopher Columbus's seaport city on the Atlantic), to Sevilla (city with the world's fourth largest Christian church), to Granada with its moorish Alhambra, to Nerja (on the Mediterranean), to Barcelona (touring the still-being-built-after-100-years Sagrada Familia Church by Anton Gaudi), and then back to France, to travel by air to Amsterdam and on to East Africa -- to Tanzania -- greeted by Patti's sister, Alice, a missionary there.

So, thirdly, I give you...

GREETINGS FROM THE FAITHFUL IN MOSHI, TANZANIA, AFRICA.
In this just-south-of-the-equator country, we went on safari and did other touristy things, but also worshiped in Evangelical and Lutheran Churches during our two weeks there. I also visited with Catholic, Anglican, and Baptist ministers.
What I can tell you is that the church is alive and well -- yea, thriving -- in Africa, augmented especially by the wave of Christian pentecostalism which has swept through the sub-Sahara continent. In 1900 there were about 10 million Christians in Africa or 9% of the population; today there are over 360 million, constituting 45% of the population. I saw ten persons being baptized in a river. There are now more Christians in the southern hemisphere than in the northern.
So, besides greetings from the faithful in Colorado and Spain, I also add Africa.

CONCLUSION
Wherever we have gone, I have thought about the last day of our pilgrimage across Spain. On that day when we arrived Santiago, we took part in a Pilgrim's Mass in the big cathedral there. As the priest poured wine (and mixed in water) and then broke the bread wafer, I thought of all the people on the Camino with whom Patti and I shared a glass of wine, drunk from the same water fountain, and broken bread at table. I suddenly realized: communion in the church on the last day had been taking place every day with those on the road. In such realization I was personally moved to tears.
Ever since then I have felt powerful communion with the people whom we met in southern Spain, in Tanzania, with the faithful back in Colorado Springs, and now with you here in Karlovy Vary. So I say 'Dekuji!' to you of the Czech Brethren Church and 'Dekuji!' to God. We are one in the body of Christ Jesus.

Postscript:
Almost two weeks later -- on Christmas Eve, to be exact, I finished this 'Greetings Report/Summary,' knowing what a fine time we have had in the Czech Republic with the Vales's and their families in northern Bohemia (crystal country where Jan's father is a pastor) and Prague (home of Jana's parents). Charles Bridge in the cold of night with sparkling lights shining off the River Vltava, I can tell you, is a wonder of the world. We are having a most blessed White Christmas and powerfully aware of our connectedness to so many close to hand and other beloveds separated by thousands of miles, yet near to heart.

2005-12-13T04:58:00.000-08:00

CZECH REPUBLIC with Jana & Jan Vales

Friday 9 December -- Amsterdam to Prague to KARLOVY
We arrived the Prague Airport with all three pieces of luggage arriving with us (a miracle!), here to be greeted by the Valesovi´s -- including, especially, little 18 month old Johanka or "Johy". Immediately we needed to fish out warmer clothes. Later Jan provided me a heavy coat and a sweater. Patti got a coat and scarf. Upon travel 120 kms. west to Karlovy Vary and their third floor flat in the building with the church on the second floor, we enjoyed rye bread, smoked cheese, tomatoes, and windmill cookies before naps. A stroll up the mall street along the Hot Springs Tebla River in the cold was taken in the evening. Later in the evening we watched the Czech film, "United We Stand," about life under German occupation during WWWII-- which I highly recommend to our church´s cinema group.

Saturday 10 December
Arose at 5:45 to journal and try the Tanzanian coffee I brought as a present. Quite good.
Late in the morning we drove to the new public library to get books. I picked out Robert Lewis Stevensonś "Dr. Jeykll and Mr. Hyde," and Patti Jane Austin's "Pride and Prejudice."
That evening we watched Czech film #2, "Pelinsky," a kind of black comedy about life in Czech just before the 1968 Putsch by the Russians, who big spoofs of life under communism.

Sunday 11 December -- Third Sunday in Advent
At 6 am Jana and Patti went out the door in the dark to visit the the open air street market. They came back frozen but had made great purchases of crystal and tupperware. I stayed in to work on a "Greetings" which I gave at the church service later in the morning. [See separate blog for this greeting which is a trip summary to date.]
At 9:30 church began with projector and sheet screen for song/hymn words. There were two times of congreational prayer (first praise and, later, reflection from service). About 30 kids were in worship who left before my greeting and the sermon. At breakfast Jan told me that my greeting three summers ago provided an illustration to a family who left the church saying Jan believed in synchronism with other religions and not Jesus as the only way. SO, I mentioned 'Christ Jesus' about a dozen times in my talk. The preacher of the day was a Salvation Army Captain who spoke on need for repentence.
Lunch was chicken and rice. Patti napped. I finished 'Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde.' That evening there was caroling in the church and, for Jan and me, an ecumenical Pastors' meeting.
Supper was soup/bread/beer followed by Czech film III, 'Rox Dabla,' about a rock star and many fantasies. I liked a line about becoming silent so you can hear the music within others -- and yourself.

Monday 12 December
'To do' day. We five went out...to learn it would cost $366 for me to get graded lenses in my glasses. Forget that. Patti had hoped to find beads, but not luck. We walked to see the beautiful Orthodox Church with its many, many icons. Visits to porcelain stores landed us purchasing a cup and bowl set or Johanka with a kriecek on them.
In the evening Jan, Patti and I went out in the dark to drive to a nearby community for a carol sing. But no. Instead we crashed our car into another coming out of a railroad underpass! Yuck, if not, shit! No one was hurt but the right front of Jan's car is badly smashed. It took a couple of hours to get the police work done. Jan went to police station (driving) and we were taken back home by a friend. With Jana we watched the Oscar nominated film 'Zelary' or 'Celery' about a woman who escaped the Nazis by marrying a peasant woodcutter who she grew to love. The queaky village is freed at last by the Russions who, then, go on a raping-killing spree, her husband being shot.Years later as a doctor herself now, she returns to the village and finds the old folk medicine/midwife woman with whom she had worked.

Tuesday 13 December
At 7 am Jan and I went downstairs for an hour with the Silent (read: centering) Prayer Group. I never left the building this whole day. Just stayed in to read and work on the computer, again finding the over half my work got lost in cyberspace. Very frustrating. Jan went out to find used replacement parts for the car. That evening while Jan was tied up in a long Elders' meeting, we three tried Czech film 4, but all fell asleep before the end.

Wednesday 14 December
I started reading Oscar Wilde's 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' and, finally, finished 'Don Quijote.' Much of the day was given over by Jan the super-mechanic to fixing his car with me twisting on a few bolts. He did it all right there on the street: replace head lamps, straighten bent hood, make latches work, put on old grill and the replacement bumper, adjust radiator, etc. Amazing! And in just five hours in the cold and snow.
After hot tea and soup, we all got in the car and went to Prague for shopping (new cobalt blue plates and bright bowl set for Jana from Patti and me) and dinner. Then on northeast to JABLONEC n. NISA, the home of Jan's parents, Jan Sr. and Milada Valez. They put us up in a nice pension overlooking a lake. Quite nice.

2005-12-08T03:32:00.000-08:00

MOSHI LAST DAYS

Fri 2 Dec -- MOSHI
As soon as able this morning we all went to the Doctor Makupa's Clinic and, after tests (blood and stool), he diagnosed us all as having ghiardia and Alice and Patti with amoebas in the upper stomach to boot. Better/more appropriate medicines were prescribed, because the anti-diarrheas were keeping the ghiardia from flushing. He gave us pills of three to take for three days and then come back in. Cost about $67 for all three of us. We decided not to go to the Indian Ocean Coast for sun and sand as travel to there by car would be just too difficult.
Made it to the internet to learn that Jon Thomas' mother died and that Melissa and Kyle had 10th Anniversary in Las Vegas.
Resting at Alice's home, I re-read Hemingway's "The Big Two-Hearted River," ending story of the book "The Snows of Kilimajaro."

Sat 3 Dec -- MOSHI
Still under the illness weather. Our 7-word prayer -- 'God, let us rise to health tomorrow -- hasn't kicked in yet. Alice's co-worker friends come by with food and prayers. All are concerned. [To quote an early observer of Christians, "Behold, how they love one another!" I'm probably 95% okay. Lewis the taxi guy took me to the internet and drove me around town to locate the Lutheran, Catholic, Anglican, and Baptist Churches. The last is the most interesting because it had once been an Orthodox Church and still has the Pantocrator and Archangels in the ceiling. The pastor, Rev. Kelley J.Zermula, who speaks excellent English (having been in Florida and Dallas' Baylor Hospital) helped me understand a little of the Catholic ("White Fathers"), German Lutheran, British Anglican Christian composition of Moshi. His Southern Baptist church's founders here (white and American) came from Nigeria in 1963. The church has a program with 40 orphaned children to feed them and help them do family "diaries" or family scrapbooks, as their parents are mostly dead (AIDS). The pastor said, "These children know all about death; we'd like them to know about life."

We did 'life' this night by trying chocolate on ice cream with walnuts.

Sun 4 Dec -- MOSHI
With the girls still ill, Lewis came by to take me downtown to church services. I first went to the LUTHERAN where I was introduced to the pastor, Rev. Macha Michael, who assigned me a Deacon, Allen Naburi, to translate the service. I walked in with the pastors and sat up front with 800-1000 people behind me. The best part of the service was the Youth Choir of 30 singers who did great movements with their energetic singing. After the service they sang just for me -- and "requested" purchase of a guitar for their band! The pastor preached animatedly about the last days, saying that one sign of the same was American churches who accepted homosexual bishops. Oophs.
I got to Christ the King Catholic Church just as they were getting out (12:30) but saw the inside where they use lightbulbs for altar illumination in place of candles.
Alice's FIRE church was behind the cathedral, so I went there to hear Jeanine Weaver (wife of the pastor) preach on forgiveness, with many personal illustrations of same. At the end of the service Bryan Weaver invited (made altar call) for professions of faith but none came. Then he invited those who needed personal healing to raise their hands. Maybe 25 of the 100 there did. The church members then came and prayed with them.
I no more than got back to the compound when a Doly-Doly (overcrowded bus) pulled into the yard and the whole group made their way out, across the road and down to the river for baptisms. About 10 were baptized and the 10th came out of the water with "demonic possession." They hauled her to the grass and then prayed (exorcised) her back to consciousness.
For supper that night we had rice pudding with syrup poured over it. I ate some stew too.

Mon 5 Dec -- MOSHI
Went to doctor's early to learn we needed to continue with our ghiardia medicine for three more days. Okay. Patti has breakout of cold sores on her mouth...so is giving up Malaria medicine which may be causing it.
The girls dropped me off at the internet where I worked for three and a half hours, only to have the last hour and a half's work lost; I'd failed to "save" -- this is a country where "Jesus Saves" all the time!
At home I had peanut butter on toast for supper.
Bryan and Jeanine Weaver came over to visit and pray. Not sure he believes a preacher and teacher is really represented in me. We live in very different Christian universes. Same with Alice and me.

Tues 6 Dec -- MOSHI
"Two more get-ups," Patti said on arising.
We are now able to report to one another "peeing without pooping."
Alice went to a church staff meeting and I read from Hemingway to Patti on the couch.
I was in the internet again that afternoon trying to re-do what I'd lost the day before.
Alice and Patti went shopping and got...
We stopped off at Marilyn and Terry Weavers' (who are Brian§s parents and teachers in a Bible College here) to say hello and ending up spending most of the evening with them, he and I talking about "intelligent design," quantam physics, and other stuff. He gave me a scholarly book on the same topic. Marilyn made Patti a pallet to sleep on the floor. This was the best conversation I've had in Tanzania.

Wed 7 Dec -- MOSHI
All of us a little better today and had bacon and eggs for breakfast. As Alice began to do a "do" on Patti's hair (a three hour process that took all day because of needed rests), I had Lewis take me to town where, first, I bought a copy of "2000 Years of Christianity in Africa," and then tried to interview a Catholic Father. He wanted to see my passport and, finally, said he was much too busy then -- or later -- to talk. So.
So, I went back to the Lutheran Church and met another of their pastors, a Rev. Gilbert Olotu, who spoke with me for an hour and half, saying there were 3-400 parishes in Tanzania and five districts with bishops. He said that when the Pentecostals began to sweep Africa many in their older/established church left for miracles of healing, demon casting out, ecstatic experiences, and lively revivalism. What that did was cause the older churches -- including the Catholics --to begin doing more of the same; people began to come back. So Lutherans and Catholics are as strong as ever. There are, he thought, about 100 Pentecostal churches in Moshi. (One had sprung up in the vacant building across the street from Alice´s compound.)
During our conversation time, an Anglican priest who works in the Lutheran Church came into the office and joined Rev. Olotu and me. It got around to the issue of homosexuality and, on request, I gave an account of how acceptance of gays and lesbians might be justified. The Anglican seemed to think that homo'y was innate but the Lutheran said it was just demon possession and that God could cast it out. I asked if God could also change people's eyes from blue to brown. He said if God wanted to he could. We all laughed.
Went to Anglican Coffee Shop for lunch and called Lewis to take me home. By now Alice's internet connection was back in operation and I could work from the house.
A friend brought in corn on the cob, Patti and I made mashed potatoes, Rafa and I did a steak on the outside grill. All was enjoyed with Mary's company at the table too, but only she and I tried the steak. After supper I took the 14th Anniversary cake from the freezer and we all had a small slice.

Thurs 8 December -- Last Day Tanzania
Energy levels better all around. French toast for breakfast. Alice cut my hair, most excellently. Late morning we went shopping in town and bought some gifts to take back. Filled the car with petrol and visited the Baptist Church to see the Pantocrator and Angels there on the inside dome and to discover icons were behind the curtains in the front: Jesus, the Theotokos, JBap, St. George, and couple of female angels. Fascinating.
Came home to pack. About 7:30 we got in car and drove the fifty minutes to the Kilimanjaro Airport. We got through with only a $16 added-on charge. After a two hour wait we boarded and flew on a full flight to Dar es Saalam and, finally, the 4000 miles to Amsterdam. I could not sleep till after 3:30, so watched a movie, "A Good Woman" (based on Oscar Wilde´s "The Fan of Mrs. Windemere"). Patti slept a little better.

2005-12-05T05:49:00.000-08:00

TARANGIRE NATIONAL GAME PARK

[-- FRUSTRATION SUPREME: In Moshi at the Internet Center on Monday, December 5, for over an hour and a half I typed-- did 'data entry' -- on our time in the Tarangarie Park time and, somehow, lost the whole thing. Shit! I went back to Alice's then, and, finally, starting over on Wednesday, December 7. Her computer service was restored.]

Mon 28 Nov -- MOSHI to TARANGIRE STATE GAME PARK
We are picked up at 7 am to travel in a Land Rover with Thomas. Maggie, who arranged our trip, offers a lovely "enjoy God's creation" prayer. As we start down the highway we see Mount Kilimanjaro for the first time...and it is HUGE, massive, beautiful in snow. We stopped in Arusha for Frosties (Alice and Patti), coffee for me, and basic lunch/snack supplies. Passed hundreds of red-clad Masai people, their cows and goats, walking alongside the road and in the barren fields. At one place about 100 are going along through the terrain together. It was toward their bi-weekly cattle market where a thousand people must have been and thousands more cattle. In stopping to observe, we were beseiged by female trinket hawkers. Through Alice's language skills I bought a couple of Masai necklaces for the granddaughters.
We paid our way into the Park with money ($35/day, three days) and much paper work which Thomas had to do. I read the information signs, one which said the best grazing lands for animals is outside the Park. Immediately we started seeing animals, and, once checked into our "tents" (with bathroom & shower at back), we went on our first game search. Here is a list of sightings made this day and days that followed:
Dik-Diks, tiny deer always in pairs
Elephants (usually in herds of 8-16)
Giraffes who can eat the needle thorn branch leaves without hesitation
Wildebeasts (Blue Race)-ugliest creatures alive
Zebras (who run with the Wildebeasts who can smell lions they can't)
Impalas with herd and solitary behaviors just like American deer
Waterbucks most like Muledeer but with straight, not forked, horns
Monkeys and Baboons -- their young are so cute and don't have the ugly butts
Squirrels rattier than our squirrels
Weasels who live in the Termite Hills
Jackals/Hyenas (one only)
Warthogs for looks competitive with Wildebeasts; they kneel to eat grass
Ostriches, the males black, the females gray
Waterbuffalo (Cape Race)

AND MANY BIRDS
Guineas of several species and some irredescent
Plovers in the creek beds
Vultures circling in the skies and resting in dead tree tops
Ibis (only saw two)
Herons and Stork-like birds
Irredescent Greens
Irredescent backed Robins
Magpies
and on and on

AND TREES
Bilbaos mighty and tall, many meters thick
Acacias short to tall with their needle branches and tiny leaves
"Sausage" Trees

Saw a gorgeous sunset which Patti got a picture of, as well as of most of the animals, etc. listed above. (I got others later.)
Back at tents we showered and and rested, then went to dinner, Patti and Alice having chicken, me sweet and sour pork. Afterward, Alice had stomach cramping. Patti and I stayed out to see the stars (some shooting types) on the blackest of nights in deepest Africa.
In the tent we talked about how the FIRE Church best fits an Earnest Troelsch "sect" typology, especially since they say they are not a denomination.

Tues 29 Nov -- TARANGIRE
Patti and I went out at 6:30 in am to spot game, as Alice was not feeling well. By 9:00 Patti was feeling ill too. We all tried a little breakfast, and then the girls went back to the tents to begin barfing -- "vomiting" might be more polite, I guess.
I was beginning to have some diarrhea but had half a cheeseburger for lunch. When resting I read more of Jon Snow's "Shooting History," especially about Idi Amin of Uganda who escaped to be kept in safety by America 'allie,' the Saudis till he died at a weight of over 500 pounds.
Got on line by the Lodge's internet and made entries for an hour -- to learn it was costing me $10 per 30 minutes!
Looked out over the EDGE of the Lodge's Tent row, and it is truly one of the most spectacular views in the world with the Tarangire River [more like a creek] running below and all the animals moving back and forth to drink and play.

Only I, Jim, went out in the pm. Early on we saw a lioness with her kill of a baby giraffe. She just lay there totally content with her tummy full. Thomas says she will not hunt-kill again for 7-10 days. Likely there were other lions in the pack around but we did not see them. When he is not camera safaring, sometimes Thomas goes on gun hunts (outside the Park). I would like to re-read Hemingway's "Short, Happy Life of Francis MacComber."

Wednesday 30 November
"All through the night" more diarrhea and vomiting, especially for Patti. I awoke saying I was 80%. About 8:30 Thomas and I went to the Park Headquarters doctor. He listened to my descriptions of the girls' condition and both prescribed medicine and filled the order, putting pills in little half-page of paper "pillbox." Medicine was anti-vomiting, anti-diarrhea, anti-ghiardia, and IV solution (for drinking). In taking the pills, Patti immediately threw them back up. Ugh. The helpers here at the Lodge regularly check in to provide help (tea, suck-on hard candy, or, later, a Gatoraid mix).
When we got back from the doctor's, there was a huge herd (400?) waterbuffalo at the river and a family of warthogs around the cabins eating grass. The babies are cute, only they.
IT IS HOT! IT IS VERY, VERY HOT!
Thomas and I again went out at 4:00 to spot game. We found a male lion laying in the shade of river bank. He got up, walked across the stream and lay back down in the sand. Nothing would bother him, he knows. I got pictures. The highlight of the afternoon for me was seeing giraffes: four mothers, four babies, and a poppa. How graceful, how elegant, how majestic. Slowly, carefully they walk around each other. Then just as slow and gracefully they moved up the bank and into the woods. We also observed elephants working on a tree's large branch which the momma had broken off and the babies could thenreach to eat -- thorns and all. The tiniest baby sucks on her mother's breast under her front legs. The baboons we saw coming down the road were fine too, especially the wee ones.

Went out in afternoon and saw wonderful families of giraffes, elephants, and baboons. Pictures taken now by me, as Patti could not. The bullion/broth that the Lodge people sent out went back untouched. Only a little Sprite tasted good to Patti and Alice.

Thurs 1 Dec (14th Anniversary Day) -- TARANGIRE back to MOSHI thru Arusha
Left by 8:30, Patti sleeping on the back seat. Stopped to buy three huge bags of charcoal from Masai on bikes and then stopped for Frostie at place in Arusha which, maybe, had bad ice in Monday's Frostie which put girls under. I had had only coffee. The restaurant had made us a "14 HAPPY ANNIVERSARY" chocolate cake but nobody felt like diving into it. We also made meat purchases. Home about 2:00. Alice's home is more of a comfort with better bathrooms (plural)for all.

2005-12-03T04:31:00.000-08:00

FRANCE TO TANZANIA (MOSHI)
Friday 25 November -- Moshi, Tanzania,

[Entry notes made Wed. 3 Dec: We've been in Tanzania a week now and, basically, not doing well. On Monday we went out with Alice and a driver, Thomas, to Tarangire National Game Park to do game hunts. All went well the first day, but on the second, first Alice and then Patti were struck with stomach upset problems. Five days later they have not gone away, and I, though not unaffected, was the only one well enough to take advantage of the game-search rides.
Yesterday, 2 Dec., we learned from a doctor here in town that we all had ghiardia (and the girls +) and the diarrhea medicine we'd taken exactly the wrong thing to have been ingesting. So, we hope the ghiardia meds kick in, but so far no.]

I'm going to go back and try to pick up our story wherever left off....

Friday 25 Nov
Storms in Amsterdam delayed start of plane trip from Toulousse and made hurry-up to catch flight to Kilimajaro Airpot -- like three minutes to spare after running. We were the last on. The plane was not crowded and the service was without peer -- hot hand-face towels, two delicious dinners, apertifs, and "Batman, The Beginning." I finished reading through our Camino Journals, highligting and marking with a red pen.
The ten hour flight landed us in AFRICA. AFRICA!
(Luggage with tropical clothes did not make it, but the winter clothes pack did.)
Enthusiastic Alice was there to greet us, along with Mary Navarro and Justin Mtunga. Alice's Toyota Land Cruiser got us to Moshi. Blinding lights and trucks with no rear lights abounded. Africa. People dangerously walking on both edges of the road. Africa.
I was most surprised that this first evening in Africa was not sweltering hot, though we are going into their summer here now. There is great lushness here, and the Jackaro Trees drop petal making a purple snow on the road and ground. Quite lovely.
In the compound, opened to us by a Masai night guard, there seems to be 2-5 people (natives) to maintain these missionaries, to cut their lawns, do the dishers, open the gates, milk the cow, etc. Very interesting.
Our bed had mosquito netting over them. Africa.

Saturday 26 Nov
Starbuck's Coffee, homebrewed, was had for breakfast! The compound grounds are quite wonderfully maintained. Unlimited flowers. Great lawn, made by 10 tens of manure brought in. All lush and green and manicured. Africa
Not seen Killamanjaro yet.
Alice says the Tanzania are happy to tell you that they have never been racked with any kind of civil war though there are 120 different tribes in Tanzania. It may be that the first President, a socialist, Nyrene help establish a tradition of intertribal toleration. Otherwise war. Africa.
After breakfast this day we went to the open air clothes market, the only whites there, and I got some pants, sandals and socks. Alice knows how to barter in Swahili.
For lunch and afternoon swim we went to resort most lovely. Lots of waiters, pool attendants, cleaners, golf caddies, etc. Most Tanzanians will never see the inside. Peasants won't see Paradors til the revolution or the escaton (choosing to be on the Marxist or Christian interpretation of things). Cost for Mary, Gaudi, two kids (Manji and Sassy), Alice, Patti and me was $35.00, plus dinner. Driving back that night we kept awake with conversation on Bush: Mary and Alice think he is bit of a savior. Wow. Americans in Africa.

Sunday 27 Nov
Worship at the FIRE INTERNATIONAL service was highlight of the day -- all 2 and a half hours of it. I have notes on the, basically, American "Praise Music" ("Three words, two chords, one hour")service. [See my notes on pp. 105-7.]
A 5:00 we joined with 20 for Indian Food dinner and conversation, all friends of the mission. In talking with Terry Weaver, a missionary on the field seven years, I got idea to do more pastor interviewing to get histoy of church in Tanzania.
The girls soaked their feet in water this night, Alice had to, she danced so strongly in the service. Patti and I just sat on the front row (!) nonplused and tried to sing the Swahili words and clap along. Tain't staid First Cong.

2005-11-28T23:39:00.000-08:00

SANTIAGO - MADRID - CADIZ - SEVILLA - GRANADA - NERJA - BARCELONA - TOULOUSSE

Friday 11 November -- SANTIAGO TO MADRID
There was all-around crying in saying goodby to friends after breakfast. Yann of France and Paula of Madrin was there, and
We had a long/all day train ride (Eurorail pass) to Madrid, me starting to read Don Quiote by Michael Cervantes. It was hard. I had to use the Spanish-English Dictionary every 3-5 words. That would not have been so bad, but this was a 4th grade version of Don Quijote.
Took Metro to Hotel Mora on the Prado near the art museaums. There was a long bathtub in our upgraded room for Patti's joy.

Saturday 12 November
Went to Carmen Thyssen-Bornemissa and the Centro de Art Reina Sofia Museums to see Picasso's "Gernica" and Goya's "The Third of May," Van Gogh's "The Potato Eaters," and many, many others. Just beautiful and educational and moving.
(On the streets that day 2 million people, mostly teachers, marched in a "manifestation" (demonstation) against proposed changes in the educational system of Spain. We did not understand it very well.)

Sunday, 13 November
Did the Prado Art Museum this day, all day, with its hundreds of older paintings, mostly, by Valezquez, Miro, Ruben, and others.

Monday 14 November -- MADRID TO CADIZ
The Rapito took us down to Cadiz (near Gibralta, from which port Columbus launched his second voyage to the New World). Had a mixup about hotels but were able to get a three day deal at the Parador there for 35% off because I am so old. We overlooked the ocean and were the end of the main and strait and narrow (20 feet? wide)street of town.

Monday 14 November
Slept till 9:00 and then did walking to see fishermen casting off the sea wall and to climb a tower and with a "camera obscura" get a panarama of the city.
We did postcards and read. I do about a page every thirty minutes on Don Quijote.
Wednesday 16 November
Patti got a professional back massage that morning; there is less to do on her [or me] because we are thinned down by our weeks of walking. We visited a church with painting by Valezquez, Goya, and somebody else.

[The following blog record (from hand-written journal notes) was started in/from Tarangire National Game Park in Tanzania, Africa, with a finishing-off in Moshi. The dates of this recording for the internet was November 29 to December 8.
Our last entry in the blogspot prior to those dates was November 17, reports going back to November 10. Much has happened since then, much of it told in the fact that we haven't had (1)internet access or (2) time to make entries except of the most hurried personal email kind. Let me start back and make brief comments; later, maybe, I can do more.]

I begin with two emails, both sent November 16.
The first I sent back to family members, a capsule of trip to date:
From: James White
To: Cheril Willson; Melissa Addington; Sevier R.C. White
Sent: Wednesday, November 16, 2005 2:32 AM
Subject: HAPPY THANKSGIVING
Dear Family,
We are in SW Spain, Cadiz (from which place Columbus made his second voyage to the New World), and staying in most commodious Parador Hotel -- a welcome after a hard six weekss on the Camino. We are well and much the skinnier. Patti says her legs can now wear hot pants!
We'd love to hear from you on this website or our personal email addresses. It is not always easy for us to access an internet but can enough, maybe more now that we are off the Camino.
Our plan is to hook up with our Australian friends/co-walkers who have rented a car and then tour more of Andalusia. The day after Thanksgiving we fly to Tanzania.
Have a good turkey day.
Love, Jim

The second email is one sent to Camino fellow travelers (recorded in blogspot above:
Cadiz, Spain
November 16, 2005
Dear Friends of the Camino,
We have a pretty good list of email addresses which may or may not be accurate. Thought I´d just send along a note of thanks to you all for being such wonderful companions on the road. If these addresses are not correct and/or you have others to include, please do let me know.
It is about com-pan-ionship that I would share a thought.
Here it is:
The day after our arrival in Santiago, Patti and I went to the Pilgrim´s Mass. In part we went to hear our country´s name called out and, in part, to see who of you might be there. But something else happened too, something like the magical things that happened for us every day on the camino. As the service continued I began to look at the action of the mass and thought I inferred the words of consecration being spoken by the priest. As I looked and listened, I realized that the basic elements in that communion service were bread and wine (actually wine with water -- water as came from the side of Jesus along with his blood). Those sacred elements were also the basic incredients which we friends of the camino had taken EVERY DAY. We broke bread together at meals, shared bottles of vino tinto (often Riojas), and filled our canteens at the same fuertas. What was happening up front in the service was not a thing apart from us in the pews.
Patti and I went forward, down the aisle, to the altar and there received the communion wafer from the officiant. Then we went back to our seats. But I was overcome with emotional connection. I fell onto the wooden kneeler and began to cry as I prayed thanksgiving. I realized fully that we all had been at/in communion with dozens ofhers for weeks before we ever came to our destination in Galicia. We had been "com" ("with" each other) sharing "pan" ("bread") every day. Every day.
O, I thank God for such good com-panions/sojourners/bread-sharers.

Thursday 17 Nov
In leaving the Parador at CADIZ we met up with the most gracious couple, named Audrey and Terry from Liverpool. They said they'd take us not just to the train station but to SEVILLA in their car...and they did. After about twenty minutes of travel time, Audrey turned and said, "Forgive me, I just need to know, did you vote for Bush?"
We laughed. I showed her the "No vote para Bush" note in my hat and Patti explained that she usually answers such a question by saying, "Yo estoy una Canadiente" (I'm from Canada).
So we hit it off well from the start. All agreed that Bush and Blair were two of the most evil leaders we had ever known.
We checked out the King Alfonso XIII Parador but agreed 360 Euros a night was not our thing and, then, checked into the Ingleterra Hotel. It was then we discovered that Audrey and Tarry's last name is "WHITE"! New long-lost "cousins"!
That afternoon Patti and I did the big cathedral (4th largest in the world?) and climbed the high Giraldi Tower with ramps which had enabled the Iman to ride up on his horse to call the faithful to prayer (that is, before Ferdinand and Isabel kicked the Muslims out, of course). I began to make a list of all the saints who are in the niches, windowns, altars, etc.; two of the big ones here are Saints Justa and Refina, two simple Christian pottery-makers who were martyred in this city 1900 years ago. The city has a lot of Moorish influence, such as the stars in the domes of the church.
That evening we joined our cousins for drinks and dinner. Having emailed the Eccles' our hotel name,we left them a note as to our dinner place, if they got in and cared to join us. At the end of our meal, who should pop up but Deanne and Toby? They had not read our email or seen our note, but in this huge city had checked into the Cairo Hotel next door to the restaurant! Walking out they looked up and saw Patti at the table! The six now, of us had/finished dinner and then went out for drinks and catching up. The Eccles, as planned, rented a car, drove out to Finnesterre to stay a night and then began to wend their way south to hook up with us.

Friday 18 Nov
Met up with Eccles and moved over to their Cairo Hotel, considerably less expensive. Patti and I wandered the city some before going into the Alzacar with all its tile and water and rooms and works. We were most impressed by the large number of artists painting in the gardens, doing beautiful work.

In the evening the Whites x 2 and the Eccleses went to a great tapas bar, where the ordered drinks brought us free eats. They were great. About 9:30 we went walking across the river to find authentic neighborhood Flamenco Dancing. By 11:00 our search had not found the place. D & T went back to the Hotel, but Audrey and Terry and we kept looking. Finally find the place and stood up for over and hour in an overcrowded, smoky, hot bar. Then it began with a man clapping and other men joining in short songs. Three or so of these then brought on a couple who danced four short routines. Another couple followed them in the four routines, and then a third man and woman (she the best). After 1:00 pm the guitarists and dancers took a break, and we returned home. At a street corner, on request, I sang "Joe Hill" for Audrey, for which she seemed especially grateful. She's a real peace activist in England. The invited us to come to their home on the south coast of Spain if we could. Maybe.

Saturday 19 Nov
With five days left in Spain, we went in the Eccles' auto to GRANADA, traveling past vineyards and olive trees. There are, like, 190 million olive trees in Spain for 40 million people! As we got closed to the last stronghold of the Moors in all of Spain, we saw SNOW ON THE MOUNTAINS! It felt like we were coming toward the Rockies. Deanne driving and Toby navigating we made it into the city and found a four floor pension, the Gomez something, single light bulb per room. We had beers and listened to a "Tuna" group play guitars and sing; they're out-of-college singers or something. That night we explored the old Moorish section of the old city. Originally there were 12 mosques there but they were all converted to churches, the reverse effect of Constantinople-Istanbul, I guess. We visited one of the churches and enjoyed the Alhambra all lit up. Tea and baclava at the hotel finished the day. We agreed to get an early (8:30 am start next day).

Sunday 20 November
Got started at 10:00, no surprise. Walked up the steep hill to the Alhambra and rented an "explainer" walker thing by which to tour the palace, castle and fort. By far the Moorish rooms were 100% lovelier than Charles V's castle. Especially appreciated knowing the the endless lines in the decor was to remind us that God is eternal. Learned that Islam thinks there are seven heavens in which 8-sided stars shine. Gardens are huge in Islamic thought -- and with lots of water -- all of which is what heaven is like: green and wet.
Standing on the highest tower of the Moor's (and, later, Spainards' fort) and seeing the sweep of the mountains, I got terribly homesick. "I miss Colorado," I cried. Still, though, we have a month and a half more of travel. O, Colorado.
We were out of the Alhambra shortly after 2 pm. Had horrendously long wait for lunch during which time I called Audrey and Terry that we could come down to NERJA...and they said, "COME!"
So we did, leaving the snow covered mountains to arrive in a few hours on palmed sand beaches and a glorious sunset. Terry met us and led us to their commodious (three bedroom) place overlooking the sea. "Triple Brill," says Patti. The White's place is a community modeled/built like old Andalusian houses were built, an award-winning archetectural achievement.
Heavy, heavy delicious tapas of anchovies, lamb, mussels, squid, sardines, etc. were enjoyed that night in the bar and I jitterbugged with the girls, including a local barfly. Great fun. With the Whites, again (third night) it was after 1 am before we got to bed.

Monday 21 November -- NERJA
(Because it is so nice here, we decided to shave a day off of Barcelona.)
We wanted to visit the famous Cueva (cave) of Nerja but it was siesta hour, so, instead, went to the harbor to see the yachts and feed the black-tail fish (grey mullets, up to 16"). One of the yachts no one had ever seen go out but it had three permanent, on-duty sailers who maintained it in a state of readiness. I wonder? To the fish I threw out a big chunk of dry end-loaf and they pushed it around the water like water-polo swimmers, quite amusing.
As usual we stayed up till 1:00 to watch English Channel 4 news, a program on Iraq in which we learned that George Bush did not know the difference between Sunni and Shiite Muslims. Which is like invading Ireland and not knowing there is difference between Protestants and Catholics. [Did I repeat earlier what Kurt Vonegut said of Bush, that he was so dumb that he believed "Peter Pan was a wash basin in whore house"? Maybe so.]

Tuesday 22 Nov -- NERJA DAY III
The open-air Market in Nerja was destination for the morning into the afternoon. Toby and I bought matching "chic magnet" hats. The girls got shawls, quite beautiful. Watches for my daughters were also obtained on the street.
After naps that am the four camino walkers with Audrey and Terry as questioners tried to do a SUMMARY EVALUATION/DEBRIEFING/REMEMBRANCE OF THE CAMINO TRIP. I have many pages (pp. 180-85 in the journal) and will enter then at another time.
The decision was for P & me to take the overnight train to Barcelona. With two minutes to spare -- after wildly running with our packs -- we made it on the train, the absolute last to get on, and had a sleeping coach.
It was nice -- great. We both slept well.

Wednesdayh 23 Nov -- BARCELONA
Upon arrive in Barcelona, we learned there was a train strike in France so our eurorail pass was not going to get us to Toulousse. Sok for the next day we bought bus tickets. Then proceeded by Metro -- always a challenge -- in Barcelona and the Jardi Hotel. Once settled, I asked the manager, "How do you go get to Gaudi' Sangria Familia Church?"
He began to laugh. So did the others behind the counter. One called a friend to repeat what the gringo had asked. After they stopped laughing they told us how to get to the Sagrada Familia. Guess there is a difference.
The Metro took us there to this now 100-years in the building monster church. Lots of nature stuff in the design and, therefore, different from most Catholic Churches but still with many of the same themes: birth, last judgement, etc. No mass has ever been said in the building.
Made some Happy Thanksgiving calls to family and friends.
Visited the market to prepare a lunch for our Thanksgiving day trip to France.

Thursday 24 November, Thanksgiving Day. BARCELONA TO TOULOUSSE
Patti is reading Jon Snow's "Shooting History" and I am still struggling with "Don Quijote" and Callaway's "We're Not the Only Ones" -- so insightful, a total expose of the Blair-Bush fabrication. Saw snow on the Pyrennes as we crossed the border. At the Hotel Citeau in Toulousse we did not want to go out...So the only thing like "traditional" Thanksgiving Dinner was some dried cranberries. Whoopee.
Still we're thankful. As they say on the Camino: "The tourist makes demands; the pilgrim gives thanks." Thanks, God.

2005-11-08T12:25:00.000-08:00

SANTIAGO de COMPOSTELA and on, to finish off, in FINISTERRE

Tuesday 8 November

After journaling and reading by headlamp, I went out for coffee and palmiers, which I brought back to the room. Fortified we went out into the city, aware that the sunshine of the last several days was not present this day. First, we found the correos (post office); there was the package sent from Pamplona a month ago. It had my Spanish-English Dictionary, pages from our Santiago culture book and other stuff. Then we had cafe coffee and shopped for the granddaughters, getting "he" and "she" camino dolls. Walking about we began to see friends from the Camino: Robert of Oregon, Barbara Goertsche of Germany, and Dennis of Wyoming, to name some. Heading back to the hotel, we were caught in a heavy rain storm. We took shelter in the covered walkway attached to the Cathedral. Gargolyles on the Hotel de Reyes Catolicos could be seen fully spouting out fully water. When the rain slackened we ran back to the hotel but were well "wettened" by the time we'd run across the plaza. We put on dry clothes in the room, glad today to be here ensconced with calefaccioned (i.e. "heat") rather than on the trail cold and water-logged.
At the noon we ventured out again, to/for The Pilgrim´s Mass, hearing at the beginning the notice that there were two people from "los Estados Unidos" had started out from St. Jean Pied de Port and completed the Camino yesterday (!). Then the Mass began. It was difficult to follow the words, but Patti was ready for the Padre Nuestro ("Our Father..."), but it was offered in Gallego. So she could not really utter it out in timed Spanish -- ultimate irony. As the priest held up the New Testament, thunder outside rolled. "Good timing, God!" thought I. God rolled it again during the sermon. "Right on," whatever the preacher was saying.
The sevice progressed. As the celebrant consecrated the host for communion, I reflected upon the Pilgrims´ Menu Meals eaten so many times on the Camino. Always there was pan and vino and agua -- the very stuff of the Lord´s Supper. O, my! Going forward down the aisle, I took the wafer, said my "Thanks be to God" to the priest, turned, and ate it. (In Spain, in spite of Vatican II, the laity dont seem to be allowed access to the cup.) Patti and I came back to our bench and there knelt. I could not hold back feelings. The taste of salt from tears was on my tongue. Appropriate. What moved me so was the insight into tie between this moment in church and all the moments with all our amigos on the Camino. Here is how I described things in an email sent out a week later:

Cadiz, Spain
> November 16, 2005
> Dear Friends of the Camino,
> We have a pretty good list of email addresses
> which may or may not be accurate. Thought I´d just
> send along a note of thanks to you all for being
> such wonderful companions on the road.
> It is about com-pan-ionship that I would share a
> thought. Here it is:
> "The day after our arrival in Santiago, Patti and I
> went to the Pilgrim´s Mass there in the Cathedral. In part we went to hear
> our country´s name called out and, in part, to see
> who of you might be there. But something else
> happened, something like the magical things that
> happened for us every day on the camino for five and a half weeks. In the
> service I began to look at the "action of
> the mass" and believed I made out the words of
> consecration, "Hoc est mea corpus," etc. (if in Latin). As I looked
> and listened, I was profoundly struck by realization of "common basic elements." There is bread and there is wine and there is water (water is mixed with the wine). Those sacred elements --bread, wine, and water--were also the basic incredients which we friends of
> the camino had taken EVERY DAY. We broke bread
> together at meals, shared bottles of vino tinto
> (often Riojas), and filled our canteens at the same
> fuertas. What was happening up front in the service
> was not a thing apart but something repetitious of that which had transpired on the road.
> Patti and I went forward, down the aisle, to the
> altar and there received the communion wafer from
> the officiant. Then we went back to our seats. But I
> was overcome with emotions. I fell to my knees onto
> the wooden prie dieu, prayed thanksgiving and began to cry. I realized fully that we, in all the weeks previous, before
> we ever came to our destination in Galicia, had been regularly
> at/in communion. We had
> been "com" ("with" each other) sharing "pan"
> ("bread") every day. Every day.
> O, I thank God for such good
> com-panions/sojourners/bread-sharers."
>

Back in our room, we -- Patti, really -- did laundry. I journaled [not really a sensitive to have been doing, I later learned]. Then we went out for late afternoon dinner at the popular Manolo's, seeing Victor again and his parents from Seville. The internet was visited for an hour, and then we ran to the Cathedral for the special service of the evening including the botafumeiro (smoke belcher). This giant silver incense burner produces smoke and pungent aroma for the church. In the centuries where pilgrims traveled without bathing (only Jews and the Muslims bothered to do that) for months, the incense helped mask body odor! It was quite something to see this four foot(?) high--and heavy--botafumeiro put into motion. It took eight men pulling hard and in concert on a two-inch rope hanging from the tower ceiling to propel the thing. We were seated in the south transcept and the censer swung high just over our heads, way behind us, almost to the ceiling, and then back to other trancept. We were impressed.
After the service we met a mother-daughter from Argentina fluent in English who said the botafumiero is swung only on special occasions and, tonight, it was for dedication of 18 Spanish ships sailing around the world or something. The sailors sought Santiago's blessing in a formal read petition, and a Cardinal (red skull cap giving him identity) responded as for Santiago himself.
Patti and I returned to the internet store to check on our emails and put in blog info for the days when we had no way to do entries.
As we turned off the room lights that evening, Patti said, "Maybe tomorrow will bring Deanne and Toby."

Wednesday, 9 November

We stayed in Santiago this day, the 9th, to be sure and attend the Pilgrims' Mass. I went back to the internet to do corrective surgery on the blog (especially to remove names of persons we'd prayed for two days ago--in case someone would read the blog and wonder why they weren't remembered). Patti did some shopping, she getting a silver trinket. At noon we went to the Cathedral to see what friends showed up. None did, but, surprise of surprises, the botafumerio was swung again...and...Patti got a moving video of it -- quite impressive! Seems like some major chefs' schools convention was happening, so they got out the giant censer for the second day in a row. A cook (?) read a statement to St. James and, again, the bishop-cardinal replied on behalf of the Saint.
Right after that Patti had an "ELECTRIC" (read: holy) experience with the Saint James statue which she'll have to tell you about. Here is her story:
"Having entered the Santiago Cathedral with our packs and done the fingers-placing and three head-knockings on the head of Maestro Mateo, I went with Jim down the main aisle of the church to find a seat, kneel, and prayer our thanksgiving. After a while, our eyes lifted and focused on the majestic altar, generally, and the gold and jeweled Santiago statue mid-way up the center of it. You could see a man Standing right behind the statue was a man who seemed to be on guard there. Soo I realized that people were passing behind the statue but in front of the guard. We could go there, we realized.
"Jim said, 'Patti, you go first, and I'll watch the machillas (packs).'
"So I went through the waiting line and got behind St. James to look through. I waved at Jim, but don't think he saw me. Then I went out and Jim came in to visit. The man ahead of him put his hand on St. James' shoulder, so my JIm did the same when his time came. 'Just over a ruby,' he said.
"Later this day we read that many people who stand behind Santiago actually give him a full embrace. Years earlier pilgrims used to place their hats on the head of the saint. Reading of these touchings, I realized I had been intimidated by the guard in the space and, so, had made no motion toward the statue. Jim said I should because this is a Christian shrine in which 'incarnation' means the material/physical is valued. So Christians aren't forbidden from touching sacred objects, or something like that. Having learned it was okay to touch, I was eager to go back the next day and do so.
"So as the Pilgrim's Mass was being said the next day, we 'perambulated' the cathedral looking for Deanne and Toby and others and soon found ourselves at the entrance stairs up to the statue. There was no waiting line today. Jim and I went up the stairs together, and both of us put our hands on Santiago's shoulders. We just stood there in silent prayer. I think the fact that the saint is Jim's name (Diego) makes Santiago real special for him. But he is special to me too, for something happened as I touched him, something that caused me to begin to cry and Jim saw. He helped me down the steps, and then I just fell into his embrace, shaking and sobbing. He held me a long time.
"Then we left.
"Later Jim asked if I wanted to talk about it, suggesting, "Has the whole experience just been too overwhelming?"
"'No,' I said. 'It is more than that. When I put my hand on the saint I actually felt a physical surge of energy, some kind of electricity going from the statue to me, a wave of something powerful. It was, what shall I say?, a divine 'touching back,' like nothing I've ever experienced before.
"'So, O sage theologian, tell me what was going on.'"
Patti's "electric moment" was/is, so far as I (Jim) can interpret it, a wonderful religious experience. They sometimes happen. Rudolf Otto, author of the classic book "The Idea of the Holy," calls such encounters mysterium tremendum, something unexplainable and powerful. The 20th century theologian, Paul Tillich, who wrote about "symbols" (such as the cross, icons, etc.), contends that while the symbols help one glimpse into the mystery of the transcendent (God, if you will), sometimes the Reality Beyond the symbol (God) seems to "participate in the symbol," seems to come back at us through sacred objects. That's how I would interpret what happened. It was a wonderful, meaningful, ecstatic thing indeed. Someone once said, "Christians are people who hang out in bad weather a lot, hoping to be hit by lightning a second time." We've been in such weather for 33 days...and now lightning from a statue. Pretty nice.
After the Mass ended, we joined to the edge of an English-spoken tour at the south portal of the cathedral, learning about the massive doors, arches, and silver shops history. A carved statue of King David playing a lute with a bow was especially well done.
Lunch was taken in our room, and afternoon shopping procured a silver camino shell to take home. Then came the 3 Euro Cathedral Museum tour with lots of "the usual" but what I most enjoyed was a Flemish tapestry of 16th Century showing peasant life including, get this, a guy with his back to the artist, looking down, obviously relieving himself en el campo! We've seen the look hundreds of times.
At 6:30 that evening we went to the Palacio de los Reyes Catolicos Parador to stand in line for the free Pilgrims' Meal, a custom of feeding-hospitality instituted by Ferdinand and Isabella. Twelve of us were ushered in and led past poshy rooms to a servers' table at a lower level. Five countries were represented around the table, including four Alleman (German) "autostoppers" (that is, "hitchhikers").
After supper we were led up and across the carpets toward the the front door, when we heard a shout behind us. All turned and we saw two figures hustling out of the hotel's bar. It was Deanne and Toby! My, O, my. The lost were found -- or, the lost found us, Toby recognizing my white Tilley hat passing by while they sat at table. We were invited to join them and their new friends from the Camino, Senior Juan Miguel, Junior Miguel and Gabriela. It was a happy--yea joyous--reunion after over two weeks absence. The seven of us went out for a second supper, the Eccles' and us agreeing to meet the next morning.

Thursday, 10 November

At 7 a.m. we breakfasted with the Eccleses and agreed to have supper together that evening at 7 p.m. At 9:45 a.m. Patti and I got on the #5 autobus out of Santiago west to Finisterre ("end of the earth"). Dennis of Wyoming and the Shannesseys (Christine and Michael) of Australia traveled with us, later helping us do pictures. Once in Finisterre we checked out the town and docks, got some lunch, and, surprise!, met up with Debbie Gill of England/Mallorca (last seen in Leon). She, with some others, had walked the 73 kms. to Finisterra. Good going, Debbie! We walked 2 kms (no problem) to the Cabo (end) Light House with its "0.00 Santiago" bollard. On the hill below the lighthouse but above the cliff overlooking the ocean there was a fire going. In it, evidence of burned clothes and wooden walking staffs. We would have offered something, maybe our walking shoes, to the flames, but these were already mailed them back to the states. I dropped in two bus passes, used. The Atlantic Ocean before us was remarkably calm this day, shimmering silver in the sunlight, merging the water-sheen seamlessly into the irredescent horizon. The sky overhead was open, blue, just a few passing clouds. There were sea gulls and boats passing. All was just beautiful -- a great ending to our Camino trip. We waded in the ocean.

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2005-11-08T08:06:00.000-08:00

Santa Irene to Santiago! Yay!!!!
Monday, November 7 -- Praying Our Way to Pray Day

At 8:30 we were on our way, prepared for rain but by 10:30 had cut our plastic sacks off. Patti suggested we do the Padre Nuestro prayer every kilometer marker, practice of which I need. Then she said we might walk in silence and remember in prayer for every half kilometer or bollard marker someone/s (family members, friends) we wanted to lift up to God. What a great way to enter the city. We went for over 10kms not passing or being passed by anybody going to Santiago. Only Miguel going the other way was met. We remembered to pray for Chauncey, Bob, and Baxter...and when we finished, we saw the first Golden Retriever we´d seen on the trip!
It was harder to do the Padre Nuestro and walk-pray in the auto traffic of Santiago.
With yellow arrows and sign posts and two Canadians we made our way into the old city and, with packs still on, entered the cathedral by a side door. We went to the back to place our fingers in the place at the pillar of the Tree of Jesse where millions had done so before us upon entering the church. Then we went to the front pew of the church, took off our packs, knelt down, held each others´ arms, prayed silently, and cried together. St. Simeon the Syrian Father says, ¨Tears are the sign of the nearness of God." God´s been near a lot. We went behind the altar to put our arms around the jeweled statue of St. James and then went to get our COMPOSTELA from Maria(!).
We checked in to the Estella Hotel (30 Euros), opened my mailed box of clothes like a Christmas present, took showers, and went out for wine and tapas of camarones and octopus pizza, which we enjoyed with Victor Rondon of Venezuela whom we´d talked to on the

2005-11-08T08:05:00.000-08:00

Sunday 6 November -- Gonzar to Saint Irene

Melide to Santa Irene
Sunday, November 6 -- Blessing of the Padre Day

While there were several special things that happened today -- as every day -- the highlight for both Patti and me happened in the hamlet of Boente. As we with our Dutch friend Joost walked down the street, the Padre of the local church hailed us in us into his church to get a sello (stamp for the Camino) and see the sanctuary. It did had some excellent sculptures of Santiago, San Rogue, and others. Having ascertained the we three all knew English, he proceeded to get out his little black book and turn to the "English" page. He crossed himself and then offered the "Pilgrim´s Blessing" over us. Realizing what was happening, both Patti and I teared up with emotion. We experienced Sunday. He´d done something for us which we needed. How sweet, so touching.
I don´t know if anything could exceed that, BUT, I tell you a most satisfying b.m. in the woods comes pretty close.
As for #3 good-thing-of-the-day, it was the weather: an 80% sunshine day. When ole sol comes out in Galicia, the villagers' clothes shows up on the clothes lines, windows open to air out houses, and folks leave their umbrellas at home. Sunshine makes the walking so pleasant, decreasing the mud puddles on the track considerably. We take pictures like crazy of the kilometer bollard markers, giving a thumbs up to #25. The eucalyptus trees seen today were beautiful, regal, perfectly spaced.

The sun shining on a big rock in a pleasant wooded area caused us to take off packs and rest our backs on the granite. We finished the stop with a chocolate bar laced with almonds. As our walk continued, we went over a bridge and Patti was -- what shall I say? --- enamored of seeing cows drinking from the stream. Here in Galicia we see many more flowers and especially her favorite, the hydrangia.

Knowing that the Pilgrim's Mass would soon be happening for us in Santiago, Patti began to drill me on reciting The Our Father (¨Padre nuestro...¨) Prayer, but I just can´t get it all together. She says, ¨Don't think it, pray it.¨ I try, but...
After such a hard yesterday, we weren´t sure if we´d do more than 14 kms today, to Arzua, but having reached it by 1:00 and feeling all right, we pressed on to Saint Irene. The extension turned out to be another 30 kms day for us. In Saint Irene we found albergue number two (the municipal one), and with just one other overnighter in it: Simone the Italian -- he the only Italian we´d talked with on this trip. We shared supper of our wine and Ramona´s cheese, plus onion soup, plus some potato chips and, always, pan. Simone is 22 years old and "searching for vocation," he said, via the Camino. Becoming an artist was one consideration. I shared Joseph Campbell's council to "Follow your bliss" and offered him 20 Euros if he's draw Patti's picture. He declined. Painting may not be his bliss.
When I prayed our thanks this night, it was the "O Lord, our God, ruler of the universe, who bringest forth bread from the earth" prayer. Having said it, I remembered something. At the Seder Meal in Jewish homes, the question, "Why is this night different from all other nights?" is always asked. Well, "this night," tonight, we realized, would be our last night on the Camino. It is a bitter-sweet night: we're glad the hard walk is coming to an end yet we realize that the special blessings of each day -- like the Padre's blessing or Hydrangias -- might be ending too. At this point we are only 23 kms away from Santiago. Mellowing, we believe not only that "The Road is All" (our blogspot handle) but that the road has blessed. Its all-ness has been all right. Patti shares that it is hard to believe that we've been on the road for five weeks + two days, The time has gone so fast. I say it seem like a very long time, as I can't remember when we weren't on it.
There is no internet in the Saint Irene station, so we still have no word on Deanne and Toby.

2005-11-08T08:04:00.002-08:00
WEEK V+ -- GONZAR to MELIDE to SAINT IRENE to SANTIAGO!!!

Saturday 5 November -- Gonzar to Melide -- Sunshine Day into Night Exhaustion

I was up at 6 a.m. to drink Instant Nescafe in the empty downstairs kitchen, finishing the note pages available in a black notebook and, today, moving to another journal of red cover. We are probably three days away from Santiago. Kilometer marker #82 was passed early yesterday morning, and we hope to get to Marker #68 (my age) by day's end. Patti's #53 bollard would be tomorrow.

Weather-wise, this was a most excellent day: SUNSHINE ALL DAY and in the evening Patti got a wonderful shot of the sunset along side a crescent moon and Venus. (See below.)
As we walk, we talk. We talk about everything and nothing: the weather, our feet, how to convert meters into feet, a new brick walk for our driveway at home, horses and cows' utters, the dogs we see (which causes her to wistfully cry, "Chauncey!"), the eucalyptus tree groves, the above-ground corn storage thingees (horreos), and all the other flowers, doors, crests, trees, etc. which she takes pictures of.
Hardly any other peregrinos were seen this day. The one exception was a hiker from Japan and he, after a while, asks us about Iraq. His question has been heard many times. In essence it is, "Has your country gone crazy?"
I show him my hat note, "No Vote Para Bush!"
Patti offers her line: "Estoy una Canadien" ("I'm from Canada").
He smiles.
And we try and say how mixed in support for the war our people are and how much we personally are opposed to it.
This conversation today and others like it are bringing me to the point of concluding that, for the next 50 years, Americans will be as much "under suspicion" as have been Germans "under suspicion" during the last 50 years. Though I met many Germans who are individually wonderful and would not have been fascists, there is always a part of me which looks askance and questions, "How could you let yourselves be so duped by Hitler?" For a long time to come Americans will likely be also regarded, nice enough as individuals, "But how could you let yourselves be duped by George Bush?"
So that is an ongoing conversation on the Camino. Patti and I have others. She explains our finances to me. I tell her about bull fighting, which she never wants to see. We talk about family, her beloved Aunt Mary and my weird Aunt Stanley (dead for over 50 years whose name I'd almost forgotten). We wonder where Deanne and Toby may be and will we see them in Santiago?

At out-of-doors picnic lunch was in the city park of Palas de Rei, we saw a man galloping, then cantering, and finally walking a horse -- for whatever that’s worth. We also observe the many broken tables in the park -- for whatever that's worth. We finish lunch and walk on though Palas de Rei talking briefly with two women, one from Australia and the other from Germany but traveling together.

As we traveled toward the little village of Casanova (!) in the afternoon, I was "seduced" by a farm lady. She was wonderfully "representative" of the farm and village women met on the roads and at doorsteps: short, a little heavy, bent, dressed in green rubber boots, black stockings, purple housecoat which tied in the middle, a dark long-sleeved sweater, graying hair pulled back and a kind of short-brimmed golfer’s hat with a farm implement symbol on it. She enticed me into buying a wheel of vaca queso (cows' cheese). I asked her, "Como se llama?" (What is your name?).
She replies, ¨Ramona.¨
I started singing the words to ¨Ramona¨ but, seemingly, they did not register with her. She took my four euros for the cheese and gave me an extra handful of ripe raspberries.

The raspberries or the cheese or the lunch food or the water or something did not set with Patti: by mid-afternoon diarrhea began, and that, for sure, is no fun ever, but especially when having to walk and not having restroom facility other than "el campo" (8xs).
Our plan for the day had been to stretch walking to reach Lebriero. We made it there by late afternoon but could not spot the albergue. There were no yellow arrows. So, though it was getting dark and turning cold, we went on. We came to and Patti’s marker #53. Though not well, she smiled and I took her picture. We went on. The sunset was, as I said, just beautiful.

Then our good day in the sun went dark, dark and cold. We stumbled into Melide about 7:00 p.m, and had to go all the way to the opposite side of the town to find the refugio. The hospitaler was gracious enough (because I gave her a 5 Euro donativo?) to not bunk us in an over-crowded dorm but put us in a similarly large dorm but with no other pilgrims. (In essence we had three nights in a row of relative privacy.) Patti, me helping to get her shoes off, almost immediately, went into hypothermic shock, teeth chattering, body shivering. The long walk of 32 kilometers, her body dehydrated by diarrhea, the cold, the dark, the exhaustion had done her in. I wrapped her, clothes and all, in her sleeping bag and piled on dorm blankets. She shivered in the bunk a long time. Eventually, feeling came back in her fingers and the shaking stopped. Hot tea, minestrone soup, and chocolate (of course!) began to bring her around. A later hot shower was a blessing too. The tea and soup were made in the kitchen of the albergue in the one pot that was there. The Melide Refugio is poorly equipped, to say the least. The Province of Galicia is supposed to keep them up, but whoever is to be watching here isn't. Things are falling apart: the stoves and faucets; there was no toilet paper in the johns and poor heating throughout. Though a hostel for 160 people, there was no television or internet. I briefly considered walking into the town centre at 10:00 to find an internet cafe but remembered to HEAR the condition of Patti and forwent the trip.

Sunday 6 November -- Gonzar to Saint Irene

Melide to Santa Irene
Sunday, November 6 -- Blessing of the Padre Day

While there were several special things that happened today -- as every day -- the highlight for both Patti and me happened in the hamlet of Boente. As we with our Dutch friend Joost walked down the street, the Padre of the local church hailed us in us into his church to get a sello (stamp for the Camino) and see the sanctuary. It did had some excellent sculptures of Santiago, San Rogue, and others. Having ascertained the we three all knew English, he proceeded to get out his little black book and turn to the "English" page. He crossed himself and then offered the "Pilgrim´s Blessing" over us. Realizing what was happening, both Patti and I teared up with emotion. We experienced Sunday. He´d done something for us which we needed. How sweet, so touching.
I don´t know if anything could exceed that, BUT, I tell you a most satisfying b.m. in the woods comes pretty close.
As for #3 good-thing-of-the-day, it was the weather: an 80% sunshine day. When ole sol comes out in Galicia, the villagers' clothes shows up on the clothes lines, windows open to air out houses, and folks leave their umbrellas at home. Sunshine makes the walking so pleasant, decreasing the mud puddles on the track considerably. We take pictures like crazy of the kilometer bollard markers, giving a thumbs up to #25. The eucalyptus trees seen today were beautiful, regal, perfectly spaced.

The sun shining on a big rock in a pleasant wooded area caused us to take off packs and rest our backs on the granite. We finished the stop with a chocolate bar laced with almonds. As our walk continued, we went over a bridge and Patti was -- what shall I say? --- enamored of seeing cows drinking from the stream. Here in Galicia we see many more flowers and especially her favorite, the hydrangia.

Knowing that the Pilgrim's Mass would soon be happening for us in Santiago, Patti began to drill me on reciting The Our Father (¨Padre nuestro...¨) Prayer, but I just can´t get it all together. She says, ¨Don't think it, pray it.¨ I try, but...
After such a hard yesterday, we weren´t sure if we´d do more than 14 kms today, to Arzua, but having reached it by 1:00 and feeling all right, we pressed on to Saint Irene. The extension turned out to be another 30 kms day for us. In Saint Irene we found albergue number two (the municipal one), and with just one other overnighter in it: Simone the Italian -- he the only Italian we´d talked with on this trip. We shared supper of our wine and Ramona´s cheese, plus onion soup, plus some potato chips and, always, pan. Simone is 22 years old and "searching for vocation," he said, via the Camino. Becoming an artist was one consideration. I shared Joseph Campbell's council to "Follow your bliss" and offered him 20 Euros if he's draw Patti's picture. He declined. Painting may not be his bliss.
When I prayed our thanks this night, it was the "O Lord, our God, ruler of the universe, who bringest forth bread from the earth" prayer. Having said it, I remembered something. At the Seder Meal in Jewish homes, the question, "Why is this night different from all other nights?" is always asked. Well, "this night," tonight, we realized, would be our last night on the Camino. It is a bitter-sweet night: we're glad the hard walk is coming to an end yet we realize that the special blessings of each day -- like the Padre's blessing or Hydrangias -- might be ending too. At this point we are only 23 kms away from Santiago. Mellowing, we believe not only that "The Road is All" (our blogspot handle) but that the road has blessed. Its all-ness has been all right. Patti shares that it is hard to believe that we've been on the road for five weeks + two days, The time has gone so fast. I say it seem like a very long time, as I can't remember when we weren't on it.
There is no internet in the Saint Irene station, so we still have no word on Deanne and Toby.
Monday 7 November -- Day of Arrival...SANTIAGO!
Santa Irene to Santiago! Yay!!!!
Monday, November 7 -- Praying Our Way Day

At 8:30 we were on our way, prepared for rain but by 10:30 had cut our plastic sacks off our shoes. Our path was one through the woods in the mist, very mystical, really. Patti suggested we do the "Padre Nuestro" prayer every kilometer marker, practice on which I needed. Then she suggested that for every half-kilometer bollard marker we might walk in silence and remember particular people (family members, friends, others) in prayer. We wanted to lift them up to God in memory and for blessing. What a great way to enter the city! We began with "Ben, Brooke, and Marin"(soon Benjamin would be doing his "trial sermon" to become senior minister of our church)...and we went on with many others, including our "exs," neighbors, deceased beloveds, "enemies," etc., etc. My notebook has names of over 100 persons "presented." We walk-prayed for our Golden Retreiver Chauncey and Baxter (Patti's brother's dog) too...and just when we finished, behind this gate we saw the first and only Golden Retriever of the trip! When we were doing the half-kilometer with prayer for folks met on the Camino, who should appear but Miguel, the Camino-is-my-life guy, and his puppy?!?. They were going east, returning from Santiago. Wow, O, wow. We'd gone 10 kms that morning, not passing or being passed by anybody going to Santiago, and there he was. As we conversed in our broken Spanish and English, I told him we'd seen his old jacket laying bside the road a few weeks earlier. He showed us his new/better one. We left with a "Buen Camino." I know who he is. About then the sun did one of its fast appearances and we did out salute to it.

Entering into the traffic of the city, it was harder (read: impossible)to do the Padre Nuestro and our walk-prayers. So they were let go as we sought yellow directional arrows and signs (now more up on buildings than on the concrete). With additional pointer-assist from two Canadians we made our way into the old city and found the north entrance to the massive cathedral. With packs still on, we entered the north transcept, then made our back to the back of the sanctuary to put our fingers in the place at the pillar of the Tree of Jesse. The hand print was deep, as millions and millions of pilgrims before us for a thousand years have done so upon entering the church. We then wended our way to the front pews of the church, took off our packs, knelt down, held each others´ arms and prayed silently. I could feel Patti shaking as one does when crying. Contagion. My tears came. We just cried -- from exhaustion/joy/gratitude/more. Our long 500 mile journey was completed and good. St. Simeon the Syrian Father says, ¨Tears are the sign of the nearness of God." If that is the case, God´s been near a lot. With one of us staying in the pew beside our packs, the other went behind the altar to staod behind the gold and jeweled statue of St. James overlooking the sanctuary. Over his shoulders we too looked.
Then we went to get our COMPOSTELA from--of all people with names--Maria(!). Patti was most pleased to learn that her own middle name, Eileen, in Latin is Helena. Helena was the mother of Constantine, the first know pilgrim to Jerusalem in 420 CE, more of less.
With the Compostela, I suppose, pilgrims of old would have a written document indicating they were "saved," guaranteed a bearth in heaven. How I'd say it, is that if, in fact, the Camino had helped me repent ("turn around") toward HEARING, then heaven will be known.
We checked in to the Estela (our two star**/30 Euros) Hotel, and received from the manager my mailed-from-Toulosse box of warm clothes. It was like opening a Christmas present. We showered and and went out for white wine and tapas, the tapas of camarones and octopus pizza. These we enjoyed with Victor Rondon, "Victor of Venezuela," our traveling companion from many weeks earlier. He had three special stories to share. The stories had a kind of "miracle" or "mystical" or "Holy" or what I call "Woo-woo" dimension to them. Here they are:

STORY #1. On the Camino at Calzada de las Hermandillas, Victor had taken the Roman Route late in the afternoon and realized he would not make the next albergue by nightfall. Moreover, there was a stream with no bridge up ahead which would have to be crossed by wading. So he came to little juncture in the road, "a juncture with a most interesting name" [which he never gave us], the name borne by his lover of some years, a woman he had left in order to return to his wife. He realized that his turn at this juncture was, indeed, like that of his life. He got back to the "main road" safely and spent the night at El Burgo Ranero.
STORY #2. Between Astorga and Rabanal del Camino (at El Ganso?), Victor went into a cafe to get out of the elements. He was sitting at the bar looking out the window and was served some excellent Riojas wine and delicious shrimp. "In every way," he said, "I was feeling great about my life." The euphoric feeling increased by comparison as he noticed other pilgrims struggling by outside in the rain and cold. "I am a fortunate man, indeed," he thought to himself. Then he became aware that someone had come and touched him, had come and sat down beside at the bar. Victor turned to greet the person and found it was a man, but no ordinary man. This was a man with a face more hideous than Elephant Man written of in the book and shown in the movie by that name. Victor began to reflect on the constrasting meaning of his sense of well-being AND the misery that is also in the world. He said the great learning for him was that the Camino shows both sides of the coin of life. "I must never forget this," he said. (Later the face of this man would doubly remind him of the "both sides"; he would revision the face in the dark of STORY #3.
STORY #3. "I left Villafranca for the Samos Monastery at 4:30 in the afternoon, much too late to be setting out," Victor began. Darkness came on and he found himself in a dark wood. As he walked he had the feeling that there was a wolf eyeing him from behind, following closely, about to spring and chase him down. He turned to face his would be attacker. There was nothing there. "If I could have run," he said, "I would have." Eventually he made it into a village which had no lights on and no sign of life, but discovered that there were three (3!) roads leading out of the town, none of them marked by any arrows he could see in the dark. Which to take? As he stood there confused, a small dog appeared. The dog came up and nosed him. He patted it, and then the dog began to walk, walk down one of the three roads. Victor sensed it was a sign to follow. He did. After a while the dog left him, but he went on. Things were going well enough until "this devil" appeared, another dog but with the hideous face of the Elephant Man see earlier. The devil-dog snarled and blocked his way, but Victor went around the creature and on. He deciced to believe the first sign (the friendly dog) and not the second. It was a good believing-following, for soon the Monastery appeared in the distance and at 8:00 he arrived and was welcomed in. The next morning the Samos Monks did their Gregorian chants in full, beautiful voice.
(I wrote these three stories down later that night and showed them to Victor the next day for correction/addition and permission to retell them. He fixed a few things and said I'd got it about right.)

It was good to be in Santiago de Compostela at last! Thanks be to God.

2005-10-31T11:44:00.000-08:00
WEEK V -- PONFERRADA to GONZAR (October 31 - November 4)

Monday, October 31 -- Ponferrada to Villafranca de Bierzo

In Ponferrada this a.m. we saw the outside of the huge 12th century Knight Templars' Castle. Since it was museums-closed Monday, we could not go inside the fort but it must be impressive, judging from the package. The Cathedral of Ponferrada, happily, was open, and it is one of the more beautiful. In fact, it is my favorite of the whole trip. In sculptures it has a tender St. Antony of Padua playing with the Infant Jesus, a dramatic "Pieta" with face of agony,and an exquisite Saint Rogue. We loved learning San Rogues's story and seeing his likeness/representation in the churches. Easily confused with Santiago himself, dressed as he is in a big cape, carrying the eight-foot staff with water gourds and having the turned up hat flap with caminio shell(s) on it, San Rogue's distinctive otherness comes through with the self-revelation of a bloody wound to his thigh (always pointing to it); and there is usually a dog with bread in its mouth at his feet. St. Rogue's story is that he came from a well to do family in France, took a vow of poverty and then traveled to Rome. There he contracted the plague but was saved by a dog who fed him bread and by Santiago who healed him...or something close to that!
Upon leaving the church a man who had been worshiping there offered a "Buen viaja!" to us. It seemed like a blessing.
Leaving Ponferrado (without Deanne and Toby -- where are they?), we remembered that today, back in the USA, Halloween would be observed and, in the evening, costumed trick-or-treaters would be out. Thus, we decided to go as backpackers! We saw others similar disguised.
In this city -- and all through the country villages this day -- we saw many people carrying fresh bundles of flowers. Just on the outskirts of Ponferrado, we stopped a woman putting flowers on a roadside curve. We asked her what was happening and she said that some teenagers had been killed in a car accident three years earlier at this site. So, she was leaving flowers in remembrance. Spainards, she said, seriously observe All-Saints Day and take much care in remembering those who are no longer living. Our seeing the flower-bearers and the mountains of fresh-cut flowers before grave stones, we were moved to a time of a quiet remembrance of our own too.

Villafranca de Bierzo
We walked this All Hallows' Eve in "menopausal weather" but without any hot flashes. We started out wearing all our rain gear -- including plastic over our socks -- to have the sun appear and the morning become very warm. So off came the rain gear. And, just as soon, the clouds returned. We walked the rest of the morning beneath clouds which were building but the temperature very pleasant. Then, just when we thought it was safe to peel off the rain jackets...the rains came in earnest; we scrambled to get our water protective gear back on.

As on other days, we passed through "really, really old" places and Patti, loving all the old doors and their hardware, stopped to take pictures. There also are many old heraldic and family crests on buildings and homes to capture on the camera too. Each village is a delight and the country a continuing splashing of colors. We have passsd through simply amazing autumn landscapes. We kick fallen leaves in collections of yellows, oranges, and reds. There are greens, distinct and brilliant, at the tops of the trees, underscored base of yellow! The vineyards are often yellow punctuated by organge. Patti made herself a corsage of red berries, white flowers, and green foilage.
There was a moment this day when the yellow arrows could not be found and we almost got lost again. Another walker, a local this time, put us on the right path, and that led us beside a sculpture yard where an artist in concrete had done some fanciful (quirky some of it) and beautiful big pieces.
Almost at dark we arrived in VILLAFRANCA with its well-known "Puerta del Perdon" (Door of Pardon) where exhausted or dying (!) pilgrims could knock, be allowed to enter and, within, receive their certificate of camino completion without having to go all the way to Santiago. I humbly knelt and knocked, but the door would not open. I asked the sello-stamping girl inside the church "Why?" and she said I did not yet look sick enough to be excused.
After visiting the church we checked ourselves in the unique-rules refigop calle Ave Fenix (Holy Phoenix) with the hospitaler Jesus Jato, a well-known, long-remembered character. He let us into the "over forties" room which, in this season, had more than than the under-forties room. The pillows looked and smell like that had not been washed in 10 years.
Prompty at 7:30 dinner began and Patti got herself in trouble. Following the grace, consumant hostess that she usually is, she proceeded to serve others' bowls from a mid-table tureen. Seeing her doing this Jesus Jata yelled out, "Stop that" and took the spoon and serving dish away from her toward the kitchen. She was shocked. He yelled some more: "Can't you read the sign clearly posted on the wall?"
Shaken Patti asked, "What sign?"
He pointed "There!"
And there was a sign in Spanish, French and English: HERE ONE SERVES HIMSELF, BUT NO ONE SERVES THE OVER (sic!)...THANKS."
As I suppose no one ever yelled at Patti at the table since childhood, the incident left her trembling.
The meal proceeded and, maybe because he knew he'd overdone his usual drama on Patti, he invited me, "Colorado," to assist with his well-known queimado (fire-water) ceremony. I was to be sampler and cup-passer. After he'd done his cantations to which we all added appropriate "awe"-full rejoinders, he got the brandy aflame and poured flames from the ladel to the bowl. Then he handed me the cups to pass to others. I was to go first. The liquer, however popular, was a throat-burning concoction, hot but also good. We then all drank together. Then I was excused to sit back down. At table was the boy who flew down the mountain the day before...and his name was Jose Angel. To my left was his mother, a woman who wore a green jade jewel on her forehead, and her traveling friend and his son. The man's name, it also turned out, was Jesus from Madrid, and the Cuban across the table was also Jesus. I told my table-sharers that, "All my life, I´d been 'looking for Jesus' but did not expect to find him triplicated in a single evening."
I worked on the pay-as-you-go computer later that evening, entering a message "We're Here--Where's You?" for Deanne and Toby while also tending to clothes drying on the fold-apart rack . Jato had put an industrial blower into operation under it. Rest room visits that night (three!) had to be through an open courtyard in the rain!

Tuesday 1 November -- Villafranca to O Cebriro

We put plastic sacks over our shoes, secured by medical adhesive tape, and started up the long, lovely river cut canyon for about 20 kilometers. The Rio Valcarce trail was quite beautiful and included miles and miles of "Yellow Brick Road." We just could not have asked for a nicer morning, one of the best of the trip. Off of every bridge we spotted trout, always a charge for me. Often we "ohhed and ahhed" at the colors, noting the beautiful yellow tops in the otherwise barren trees. We took pictures of cows and modest cow-movers, and at one place a very sweet man gave Patti some hard candy to enjoy. She did not, however, like the cafeteria where we did lunch; "Too American truck stoppee," she said), and I would just as soon forget it too, as I did the embarrassing thing of relieving myself in the women's bano, coming out of the stall as two women came in.
That afternoon the track began to go all but straight uphill, but the scenery was "to die" -- maybe better "to live" -- for: the near hillsides' fern become bright russet and the further mountains an amazing patchwork of dark greens, dark reds, and purples, like a medieval stained glass window, almost no light colors at all. Then the skies began to come down, and that for over three hours, but, happily, our sacks-over-the-socks worked and kept our feet dry. Often the mud path was bounded on both sides by a high rock wall with thorn bushes. The road was a challenge: pooled, shoe-sucking, muddy, yucky. We passed some sheep, some cows, a horse tied to a bush, and a cow-watcher/herder. As night and cold came on, Patti and I stopped, took off our packs to pull out jackets and gloves. Just then Patti, twenty yards below me, turned around to see a herd of cows coming up the way, pushed by the cowboy. They were coming up fast, unimpeded by the muck. Unable to get out of the road, she frantically called, "What should we do?!?" Not even snapping my pack buckles, I said, "Get outta here!" We took off and up fast, barely beating the charging cows to the barn. There they turned in. "Narrow escape," I opined, "with shades of the saint-martyrs Felicitas and Perpetua against the mad cows of Lyon, second century CE."
I think she muttered, "Oh, so helpful to know."
Then night fell, the rain continued, the wind picked. We got to O CEBREIRO, the top of the mountain, by following the bicyclers' 4 km. pavement and not the foot pilgrims' rock-mud trail. We ended up traveling over 30 kms. this day, a record for us. We had to ask several times in the dark, rainy village where the albergue was, but it was quite nice, modern, built by the government of Gallicia. This is the province in which we now were, the last, from Navarre, Rioja, Burgos, Provencial, Castilla, and Leon. There was no internet.
That night, at table with our French friends (Odo and Jean Luis) Victor of Venezuela, and John from Portugal, I had a Gallician dinner specialty: Pupi (Octopus) for supper.
So this day may be called. "The best and the worst of times" day.
I informed Patti that because of her great navigating the mountain skills shown this day, she was now qualified to go on the elk hunt next fall, to do beating, cleaning, and packing.
She looked at me not-appreciatively, saying, "I don't think so."
"Why's that?"
"Because I'm not leaving any more."

Wednesday 2 November -- O Cebriero to Triacastelo -- DAY OF THE WINDS

Right off this day, we got lost. The one yellow arrow out of the albergue pointed us up a hill, which felt wrong because O Cebriero is "the top." Even so, we traveled it about about 3 long, hard kms. Finally, I consulted out guidebook, and it said to "hop on the highway below the alberque." Damn. We could see that road a half mile way below us AND a forest-cut road which seeminly would intersect it. We took that cut off till it ran out. I bushwhack through thick treess and shrubs till I came to a cliff, had to turn around and, literally, pull myself back to Patti. Then we retraced our path and road back to O Cebriero, trying to warn a couple from Luxenburg coming up that this was a wrong way. They went on anyway. We got back and I wanted curse out the albergue folks for the deceptive yellow arrow but it seemed like too much trouble. We "hopped" down to the road and made our way on that semi-busy highway to the next hamlet, one which had a CAFE JAIME. From the bartender we learned that a couple from Luxenburg had been through about thirty minutes earlier. (No comment.)
The route, basically "down," had lots of steep "up" as well. Going up one rough trail I found an oblong black basalt stone which had crossing veins of white quartz. I thought it would cut and polish up well as a Santiago Cross from the Camino. Into the back it went for added weight and journey's end mail-back to the States.

The winds were furious all day, often all but turning us around in our tracks. One time I stopped on the burm on the edge of the trail to relieve myself. The wind charged from behind, and thought I was going to be blown off onto the rocks below. The only positive thing about the wind was that it blew to expose the countryside. So, in addition to the tall Poplars with golden tops and a hint of green as a crown, there were hillsides of russet created by the dying ferns. With the wind ware clouds but the rain only hit us twice. At times the sun broke through the swirling clouds. When that happened in the a.m. we did out "Salute to the Sun" prayer. It was hurried because the sun's shining was brief. Sun, clouds, wind, and rain meant much altering of clothes: hood up, hood down, gloves on, gloves off. [A full treatment of MAINTAINING BODY TEMPERATURE CONTROL is shown for the end of this day's blog.] I lost a glove and had to travel back -- uphill, 320 paces uphill -- to find it.

After 32 days on this trek, we are ready for it to be completed. We are more frayed than is good for us and at times testy. We walk along in silence for a while and I try to remember words for the old ballad "Barbry Allen," but they aren't there. I ask Patti for help, and she, wanting to stay with her own thoughts, says, "You already know that."
I respond, "Okay, I won't sing it."
We walk on, me kind of humming the tune to myself and fumbling for the words.
Finally she asks, "Well, aren't you going to sing it? Or are you being ornery because I was ornery?"
So, now she wants me to sing it. I clam up tight.
She responds saying, "I just want to be alone."
And with that, I speed off, walking as fast as I can, knowing I can outpace her. We'll just meet up down the way. When she realizes I'm not slowing, she calls out to me to wait. But I ignore the call. She begins to run...and call...and cry. I can hear her. Finally, I stop, turn, and let her to catch up. We walk on in silence. Finally she asks,"Why'd you do that?"
"I thought you said you wanted to be alone -- and you certainly did not want to hear the love song."
We are frayed and testy.
Barbry Allen is a song about star-crossed lovers. The last verse says
They buried sweet William in the old church yard
They buried Barbry Allen beside him
They grew and grew in the old church yard
Til they could grow no higher
Out of sweet William's breast there grew a a rose
Out of Barbry Allen's a briar
At the end they tied a true lover's not
And the rose grew round the briar.
The love song sounded out a couple of days later.

We stumbled into a town and looked for a bar to have coffee and rest. Then we start on through the town. We ask a fellow-traveler who, suprisingly, is coming toward us "How far to Triacastela?"
He says, "This is it."
"Oh."
We find a private albergue which we shared with three Americans: Vicki Lynn of Hawaii (member of the Central Congregational Church in Honolulu), her adult son Kepa, and Robert of Oregon. After finding our bunks, we went to the supermarcado for dinner makings, and Patti puts together a great salad and spaghetti dinner -- and, in drying to dry them off, burns one of my Smartwool socks in the microwave! There is an internet in this place, but the owners´daughter takes it over for her homework. When we finally can get on, our blogspot is not accessible and we cannot open email which might have news of Toby and Deanne, "lost" since Manjarin.

Triacastella to Barbadelo

Procedures for Maintaining
BODY TEMPERATURE CONTROL
When fully dressed for rain and cold conditions, here what we might do for COOLING: Untie the raincap strap...start unzipping rainjacket...take off gloves... roll up cuff sleeves on jacket 1-3...push rainjacket hood back...remove snood from head but keep on neck for warmth...unzip rainjacket all the way, including sleeve air vents...STOP, take off back pack, remove rainjacket and attach it to outside of the pack from which you've taken off the rain cover...remove rain pants and put them in pack's upper compartment with rain cover...put snood-become-neckwarmer in there too...go from clear glasses to colored glasses...reapply sunblock...cut tape and plastic bags off of shoes (if anything remains of them) and take off the plasic sacks around socks...roll up shirt sleeves...roll up pant legs...zip off lower pant legs...remove long-sleeved shirt...(at this point I'm walking in T-shirt and short pants)...make shade hat fit looser and/or hold in hand...look to walk in the shade...or rest under a tree, taking off socks to dry in the sun and air...drink water.
Any time along the trail, as the air gets cooler or wetter, the above procedure is reversed for WARMING.
A full stripping happened only twice in our fall walk across Spain. A full covering/bundling up happened oftener, maybe a dozen times. On the coldest days (maybe four), our clothing included putting on thermal underwear and wearing a sweater. Neither Patti nor I had a coat per se; we'd elected to "layer" for warmth. In the course of a "normal" day (cool to warm variation) -- about the time and place where sleeves are rolled up -- the process goes the other way and the sleeves are soon rolled down again; and this back-and-forthing may transpire a dozen times in that day. My ever-available handkerchief (needed to wipe my nose when the temperature gets below 50 degrees) moves between my rainjacket outside pocket to my shirt pocket to pants back pocket.
In my journal I drew a sketch of "JWW, The Well-Dressed Backpacker," indicating most of the clothing items spoken of above plus baton, T-shirt, belt, etc.

Thursday 3 November -- Triacastelo through Sarria to BARBADELO

Triacastella to Barbadelo

"A day without..." rain is like a day WITH sunshine in Galicia. We had such a day, though we never saw the sun, and were glad of it, beginning with not having to put plastic sacks over our socks and/or shoes. We did 25 kms. even with a late (10 a.m.) start. While some Camino travelers, such as Victor of Venzuela, went to see Samos with its famous monastery and chanting monks, we elected to lower-straighter route to Sarria. The morning was mostly uphill, passing San Xil and cresting at Alto de Riocaba. There was marvelous reflecting pool fuente en route with a large camino shell on the framing wall. We took pictures of it, as well as those of the usual doors, crests, yellow arrows, church bells, chickens, sheep, and cows (especially red ones and black and white Holsteins). Patti takes lots of flower pictures and, each day, she puts together a corsage to wear on her camera case. I liked the one today of holly leaves and berries.
What I did not like like -- and Patti likes even less -- was the smell of cow manure coming from the fields, barns, and walking paths. The piles to watch out for and not step in were too frequent. We would now add "cow pies and smell therefrom" to the TOP TEN LIST OF THINGS NOT TO LOVE ABOUT THE CAMINO.

Patti and I continued a talk from yesterday about how not to tick one another off, not to say/do things that threaten the other's person. The conversation arose when I asked, "Are we sauntering this morning?" And I guess it really was a rhetorical question.
Well, Patti went right to that place, "You've done it again: you've said 'I'm not good enough and can't do enough for you.'"
Oh, wow, that's not what I meant at all, and I say that. But this reaction is a deep-seated, childhood-engenered thing and familiar place she can go to when feeling vulnerable. We walk some.
After a while, I speak remembering to say, "Sweetheart, I love you. Do you know that?"
"Yeah."
"Well I do, deeply, with all my heart: I love you, your person. What I wonder about is that if there is a way for you not to feel threatened when something only about a behavior is asked about? Is it possible to consider, even accept, a statement about DOING wihout feeling it as an attack on one's BEING?"
We talk about this for some time, and we do get the concept, hard as it may be to live it. What I agree to do to preface observations/questions/criticism (for criticism can be there), to preface these things with a statement like, "What I'm going to ask about is a DOING" and she will try to hear it as an external something, not something about BEING.
We end all this hard talk with a promise to come back to it gently later. "And one other thing," she adds,"could we also have talk before the Camino ends about listening skills?" Imagine that! I have heard this request before, and, yes, we can open it...on another day.
Eventually we arrive Sarria and though it is a good stopping place, we decide to go on a bit further, to make it a 25 km day. Leaving Sarria we treked beside and across a railroad track which caused us to remember eleven (11) train songs all of which we could sing at least a line or two. We then went uphill and evenutally landed in Barbedela, looking at the public albergue but deciding to ensconce at a private peñsion, the Casa de Carmen, in front of which we'd seen the proprieter cooking peppers. The place was more to our liking: it had a camas matrimonial, hot bath, and restaurant attached. Unfortunately we did not see the church in Barbedelo which we were later told had "the best colors of any church on the Camino." We two -- and Joost from Holland -- were the only ones at a nice dinner with Galician wine both red and white. There was no internet at the Casa de Carmen and, worse, not enough callefacion (heat), so much so, the next morning...

Friday 4 November -- Barbedelo through Portomarin to Gonzar -- REPENTENCE DAY
..I went back to bed rather than try to get up to journal and/or read.

The weather today went from rain and cold to sunny and warm several times. So we do considerable adjustment of clothing. At one of our puT-the-rainjackets-back-on stops we were caught up to by Don Armour of Melbourne, Australia. What a surprise to see him! We'd last seen him in Burgos over two weeks ago, he there stopped by bleeding blisters from his boots and, later, his sandals. He´d done some train riding to get back on a slow walking schedule but was resolved to make it to his Santiago and get his credential. So, until 2:30 that afternoon we walked together, learning about his wife, Judy, with Chrones disability and his six grandchildren. Career-wise he'd been an insurance advisor. We asked Don what he'd done in his waiting to heal and his slow walking, and he said, "Think. A lot."
"About?"
"About 'WHY DO THE CAMINO?'"
He had many answers, some of which we shared. WE DO THE CAMINO because...because it´s there...because we´ve heard about it for years (especially me, a church historian)...because friends had done it/inspired us...to lose weight...because I was retired and need to discern "what next"...because Patti wants a break from old routines...because we know that "the way" is a metaphor for life, maybe even like a labyrinth...or because we want to identify with the millions of Christians who have walked it over a millennium...to appreciate another culture from the ground...get some archeological and architectural education...and on and on. For Don, he said his main reason now for doing the trip has turned out to be "new learning" about people, especially young people. Over the years he'd grown suspicious and and distainful of the under-thirties, but on the Camino he'd developed a wholly new appreciation of youth. He had met many "winners" on the Camino, and they were restoring his hope for the future. That was a major learning. When he gets back to Australia he wants to find a way to work with youth.
If you factored in the main reason that pilgrims have walked this way for 1200 years, I suppose it has to do with the "other worldly" concern to attain heaven. By walking this way, getting the sellos (stamps) put on your credential, and finally showing it in Santiago and receiving your "Compostela" would be the purpose. Of old, this paper won the pilgrim a plenary indulgence of either a full forgiveness of sins (to date) or, at least, a third of your time in purgatory taken off. If you went to Rome and to Jerusalem, for sure, you'd get the other two-thirds removed. In the middle ages one who had done a crime could be forgiven if he made the walk and came back with his Compostela pardon.
None of this made any sense to me. I was not doing this for penance or repentence or to win heaven. At least that is what I thought. BUT MAYBE IS WAS.
As Don Armour shared his learning, I reflected back on yesterday's conversation with Patti, especially the ending think about consideration of "listening better." I had actually woken up this morning thinking about this. "Listen Better" was something Patti had suggested on the first day of our walk and it had been dropped all along the way. In fact, it has been suggested in my career. Some evaluations have said, "He needs to be more attentive to both colleagues and parishioners." When my first wife had chided me a acting like I was "Mister P" (for "Perfect") something of sensitivity to others was attached to the sarcasm. I am not perfect, obviously, but I sure might seem like I'm not attentive to others. So, if,
"HEAR"
is the message I get on this trip and
"HEAR"
is what I might begin to do...then that would be a major change in direction, a turning around -- as in repentence (turning from sin) -- that would be something major, a positive outcome indeed, for me and those about me. "NOT HEARING" really does amount to a sin and, truthfully, it has done damage to others. If I were to be shed of this sin...well, that would be to gain heaven.
Wow! The Camino may have done for a man in the 21st Century exactly what it did for Pilgrims in the 11th. It would save their soul from the hellfire.
Wow.

[The trip on the Camino could, I think, end here. Interestingly enough, at this writing my notebook was filled. I will continue with another notebook, but one day before arriving in Santiago I think I received the major insight which these miles could give me. Now all I need to do is "HEAR," no mean redirection. ]

Edward Albie says in one of his books, ¨Sometimes one has to go a long way to cover a short distance.¨ I´m hoping I´ve done that.

The sun came out more and more as the day went on.
We entered Portomarin over a giant bridge built above the river Mino and Franco´s Lake which caused the city to be moved from the valley to the hill. In the City, Don left us. We got provisions and went on.
We were headed to Gonzar as the night´s stopping place. We went into the Albergue there but no one was inside. We had it all to ourselves for the whole night. It was like a cabin in Alaska, left open for hungry, cold, tired travelers -- us. Of course, there was no internet but cool showers were available, good for the soul.

2005-10-30T10:26:00.000-08:00
WEEK IV LEON to ASTORGA to PONFERRADA

Tuesday 25 October -- LEON

For seeing religious-cultural art, today was the best. We (mostly Toby and I, in any depth) did the great St. Martin Cathedral, the museum, the Panteon of Kings and the St. Isidoro Church. Here is one delight for me from each place:
S. Martin's -- The Apostle Luke shown wearing Spectacles
Museo -- The "Death" skeleton (over which watchful guards prevented a photo)
Paneon -- 800 year old arch fresca of "The Months," showing a pig happily eating
grapes in October and no-so-happy in November when slaughtered)
S. Isidoro -- With Toby binocularizing the retablo's crucifixion sequences
(For more details of this interesting city, one should read in the Santiago book.)
Interestingly enough, there were those who took delight in us. Before the Anton Gaudi Municipal Building we encountered some Japanese tourists. As we were there reading a map, their guide told them, "There are some pilgrims on their was to Santiago." Well that just thrilled. Gawking, they gave and "Awe!" and clapped their hands. Then they wanted to take our pictures and have theirs taken beside us. I hadn't realized we were such a novelty attraction.
For lunch that day I got my first first hamburger in four weeks. It was a sort-of one, made with ground beef to which fried onions were added. It came on the usual Spanish hard crust roll. Such rolls are dangerous to the upper pallette but the natives over the years seem to have developed calloused mouth roofs. They never notice such a thing.
Patti and Deanne did some shopping in the city today, Patti getting a new chip for our camera and Deanne a better-yet poncho (45 Euros). Early afternoon we agreed to go back to the convent to rest, Patti diverting herself to see if a return-FAX came from the County Clerk in Colorado Springs. It did not. So, she returned to the convent. The convent doors, however, were locked by the grumpy hospitaler following "the rules"! Patti stood outside in the cold shadow of the building knocking and calling aloud, but no one responded. (I was naping-reading in our this-night private room.) For over thirty minutes she stood there knocking, calling, and crying. Finally someone coming out let her in. This was not a happy experience.
My unhappiness -- maybe more a frustration -- of the day happened that evening. I was hoping we could get back to the convent by 9:30 to take part in the Nun's Vesper Service which people attending the previous evening said was most beautiful with the Sisters' singing. We went to dinner earlier than the night before so we might do this, but no one other than me seemed to be time conscious. We visited three restaurants before finding one "suitable" and then dallied therein. At 10:00 we barely got back before the grumpy "hospitaler" locked the doors. He was grumpier than ever.

Wednesday 26 October -- Leon to Virgen del Camino to Villar de Mazarife

"Westward, Ho!" was the call for the day...but, first, we have to wait in the the cold and shadows for there to be enough light for Deanne to get pictures of Gaudi sculptures on the Bank Building and then for Toby to finish his eight (8!) yogurts. Patti and I pushed on, leaving Leon next to much auto traffic.
Mid-morning we arrived VIRGEN DEL CAMINO to see the 1961-built church there with the wonderful modern iron statuary of Mary and the Disciples shown on the front of the church. Each Disciples had his "instrument of death" showing, e.g., the flaying knife of Batholomew.
·Learning the symbols--usually of martyrdom--for the Apostles, e.g. Bartolomew´s is a flaying knife.
I too thought I was going to die for need of bano facility, but therer was none in the church, the one at the exhibit hall was shut down, that of the bank was off-limits, and the barkeeper at the cafe let me know if that was why I was coming in...no way. Not everyone loves the peregrino. I had to hurry out of town to the "campo."
Out of town we got a little off-track and did some road improvising to rejoin the main way, called "The French Road." It was pleasant, and the weather and wind were perfect. We noticed that here, as in many places before and later, there was major super highway construction going on. As we walked, Deanne presented a "thought problem" about the cause of the death of a man in a box. WE guessed and guessed to little avail. She said I, for sure, should know. The answer was the man had bleed to death in the box (a telephone booth) because he cut his arms on the glass when describing to a friend on the phone the length of a fish he'd caught! The guessing was a fine way to spend an hour or so walking on the meseta.
About 4:00 we arrived the Albergue of San Antonio de Padua in VILLAR de MAZARIFE. It was new, clean, and had wonderful hot showers. Sitting outside watching the sun go down and drinking a beer (though the weather was a mite nippy) was quite pleasant. When dinner time came, we ate Paella in which the meet was rabbit. With a touch of diarrhea earlier in the day, I ate sparingly, but it was excellent. It was prepared by "Victor of Czech," whom we later learned was also a gypsy. [See below.] This we learned from "Victor of Venezuela" who was at supper with us, as was Claude of France. The conversation, per usual, was fascinating. Victor recounted the story of Santiago de "Compostella": a 9th century C.E. shepherd was out in a field (campo) one night and under the stars (estella); he received a revelation that there in the campo was the burried bones/relics of St James. Thus Santiago de Campo-stella. Victor also told of going Benares in India and there seeing people brushing their teeth in the same holy river in which dead bodies floated! Claude was interesting in discussing, "Why does Jesus wear a woman's slip?" as seen in so many pictures and crucifixes. Toby wanted to know what happened to Joseph/Justus who was not chosen in the lottery which selected Matthias to replace Judas in the twelve (cf. Acts 1). I just wanted to know where the downstairs bano was.
Patti and I talked later in the evening about just purchasing our own lunch foods rather than trying to select them with our walking companions, as Toby really does have some unique eating requirements (many fruits and lots of yogurts). It might work, we agreed.

VICTOR'S STORY
Victor of Venezuela recounted Victor the Gypsy of Czech's story of the Camino: "A 21st Century Miracle Story."
It seems that the Gypsy Victor's mother was quite ill and his father was out of work. The family believed that they had been placed under a curse. Something needed to be done to lift it. Thus Victor decided -- as have countless thousands of pilgrims before him -- that if he made the Camino in a proper penitenial way, a blessing of God might happen, perhaps the curse would be lifted. So, though severely limited in money, he left Czech. He hitch-hiked across Germany and and into France from where he begin walking toward Santiago, Spain. Reverently he walked. Then, he ran out of money entirely. So he began walking non-stop: three days and three nights, nourished by a bit of bread. As he went he prayed to Santiago that answers would come. When he finally reached Santiago and received his Camino Creden5tial, a priest befriended him, put him up and fed him. He also helped Victor make phone contact with his family in Czech. He learned that his mother had died peacefully and that his father was now employed. That father felt that the curse had been lifted.
Victor was convinced that this lifting was a gift of grace, a miracle!
He was now able to return home, but, of course, he would have to work his way back. So it was that Victor was cooking there in the San Antonio de Padua Albergue of Villar de Mazarife and trying to put enough money together to do another leg back home. Humble and pious he was. Most sweetly, he gave shiny peebles to the pilgrims going west to Santiago. Thus he blessed others' journeys.
I know this is a poorly told, second-hand story, but Victor of Venezuela told me that the Gypsy's telling was quite moving. Here was a believer as might have traveled the road a thousand years before -- not like us, cultural dilitantes.

Thursday 27 October -- Villar de Mazarife to Hospital de Orbigo to ASTORGIA

We had breakfast in the albergue and started out town in early sunshine illuminating the east in red. Deanne quoted an old rhymne:
"Red sky in the morning,
Shepherds (I remember "sailors") take warning.
Red sky in the night,
Shepherds' (Sailors') delight."
She also noted that the big ant hills which we spotted along side the path were further sign of rain, the ants building up the cones to survive innundation. I looked at the clear skies and believed otherwise.
Going out of town I took my Swiss Army Knife and cut some pampas grass stalks. Patti put one in her pack pointing up; it waved like a tour guide's flag. I put one under my pack pointing down, like a donkey's tail! It was a funny sight going down the road. Deanne and Toby also cut stalks and attached them to their packs. Thus we went down the road in the sunshine.
I spent most of the morning walking-talking with Barbara Gerdes of Germany. She belonged to a religious peace community back home. She wanted to know -- as did many others -- why the United States was in Iraq, and "Did you vote for George Bush?" I showed her my "Mo vote para Bush!" note in my hat band, and I explained how so many of us were opposed to what our country was doing in the middle east. We also talked about Catholic-Protestant differences, I sharing how solo fide and solo scriptura were important to Protestants and, probably, Luther would not be keen on pilgrimages of works. We also talked about preaching and the place of the Virgin in the Bible (minimal) and in church history (huge). She probably got more of my forthcoming book (Christianity 101: Tracing Basic Beliefs) than she wanted.
When we got to the town of HOSPITAL de ORRBIGO, Barbara went on, but the four musketeers stayed on the bridge called Paso Honroso. In olden days knights would joist on this long bridge. So, with our pampas grass in hand as plumes behind us and with our walking batons as swords before, we dueled on the bridge.

·With our walking staffs and plumey grass, we jousted on the Paso Honoroso Medieval Bridge.

Then the rains (predicted by red skies and the upbuilt ant hills) came and soaked the fluff out our pampas plumes. We went to town, had lunch of our own goods and those purchased at the bar, Then we went on toward ASTORGA.
We found the albergue because a German hospitaler, like a shepherd searching for lost sheep, went out in the rain to find soaked and turned-around pilgrims. He herded us into an every-bed-taken dormitory. The room had lots of hot bodies trying to dry wet clothes. Thus was the place given "flavor." It was not the most confortable albergue's of the trip.
That night we went out for supper at the El Capricho Restaurant. Most ordered a usual peregrino meal but I asked the town/region's specialty food: Cocido Maragota. It is a topsy-turvy offering with the meat coming first -- and that of 8-10 different kinds of meat, enough to feed four people. After that came the chickpeas and cabbage, then noodle soup and, finally/happily, a custard flan of real quality. We all left filled.

Friday 28 October -- ASTORGA to Maragotos

Mailings were done, then a breakfast found, all followed by a visit to the Astorga Cathedral. It had a wonderful--yea, incredible-- relief retably featuring Jesus and Mary, of course. We'd hope to "do" the city in the a.m. and leave by noon, but the Bishop's Palace Museum did not open till eleven. This building was designed by the architect Anton Gaudi.

·
· It is a huge building which he designed for the archbishop of that city. It has bishop's mitre-shaped entrance doors and regal rooms. The prelate, however, would not live in it as it was too whimsical and fantastical for his refined, more modest taste. It does look like something out of a fairytales book. Many Virgins-with-child are shown on the museum's art work. We are beginning to identify the Disciples in art by their instruments of martyrdom. Other saint-martyrs are also shown, such as Elena, recognized because her breasts are cut off and bleeding, or Lucy whose eyes are shwon on a platter.

We had lunch back in the German albergue and then put on our rain gear, including plastic sacks over our socks and/or shoes. By 2:00 were on our way. Our walk was short...into the Maragotos Village of Castrillo de los Polvazares, a United Nations restored city with cobblestone streets, stone houses only with green doors and a bench outside each. Though the streets were empty (cars were banned from parking in the village), the hotels were full. The Hosteleria Don Coscola had one room with three beds for the four of us, and, so, for 54 Euros,we took it. The restaurant of the evening in another hotel had many young boys running wild through it, but our hotel bar was quiet for a flan dessert and liquer nightcaps.
[Couldn't help but observe that fastidious Toby takes as long to shower as he takes to get to/through lunch. An interesting study in compulsiveness.)

·

Saturday 29 October -- Maragatos Village to Cruz de Fierro to Manjardin

When I got up early to write (in the bathroom light), I discovered I had "no pen." So I prayed and read till others arose. Anxious to get back on the mail trail, I was first out of the hotel, going to the south edge of the town where the exodus bridge was. Deanne and Toby found another way out of the village further south, sighting on their track the only two deer any of us ever saw in Spain. Patti, meanwhile, went west and east in search of me but found no trace. That sinking-desperate-lost-abandoned feeling hit her, so that when I came back to center to find her, she was in fearful tears. Not a good way to start the day -=- worse probably because she had some fever and/or a cold. Together we made our way out of the village with its quaint rock-enclosed fields and up a path where there were stones of cobalt blue color scorched onto one side. I picked up one to show to a geologist friend back home (carrying it for the next 100+ miles).
We all hooked up at the albergue-cafe in St. Catalina de Somoza and enjoyed a breakfast of bacon and eggs. We missed seeing the Church there with a St. Blas relic. We did not miss the ruins of an ancient Roman gold mine, however, and, though there was much more to be imagined (that 60,000 slaves once worked here) than seen (yellow tailings), it was a worthwhile side trip. This was also the day we saw a Red-Tailed Kite circling, hovering, and hunting so dramatically.
The rain was with us much of the day, and the rocks on the trail cut our plastic outside-of-the-shoes sacks to shreds. I tried to dry my socks in Rabanal del Camino when we stopped for coffee. We needed to be ready of foot for the afternoon, as the way was up, Up, UP the rest of the day. There would be no food stores until the next day too, so we needed to shop. All the shops, though, were closed for siesta. We tried to buy yogurt from the bar keeper, but he would not sell.
At 4:00 we started up the 1550 milimeter high mountain, the highest place on the camino [though the elevation of Colorado Springs]. The scenery was spectacular: deep greens and dark russets on the steep mountain sides and deep gorges, much of it glimpse through a mist. We passed through hamlets long ago abandoned, looking like they had been bombed. Eventually, though, we made it to what was a HIGHLIGHT MOMENT AND REVELATION for the trip: The Cruz/Cross de Fierro/Iron.

·Coming to the CRUZ DE FIERRO I put my
Pikes Peak granite stone at the foot of the cross. This is the one I carried for a month with the cross of quartz crystals in the red feldspar. Patti put on her "JOY" stone. These two rocks, we realized, had come from the North American techtonic plate. They we joined side-by-side with some the Eccles´ of Australia added. The two sets of stones wee now on the soil of the African-Iberian plate, complimented by tens of thousands from the European plate. And from how many other plates and places? And the rocks on the stack beneath us were brought there and left by pilgrims 500? 1000? years ago. This is, I realize, a truly ecumenical (whole world) site!

We then went on. By 6:30 we made it to a primitive albergue, high and isolated on the mountain, at MANJARIN. It was run by Tomas and his wanna-be Knight Templars who checked us in and showed us the mats in the attic sleeping quarter. There was no running water or anything facility other than a non-flush toilet hidden behind the house. Patti went to bed and sleep right away, missing the soup and salad meal prepared by "The Order." We twelve (12!) eaters were crowded in tight at the table, eating in dim light off of tin plates. It tasted good...but how sanitary? The guide book we'd read said to watch out for "creepy crawlies," and I imagined rodents or bugs. What such turned out to be were cats -- several of them -- who were everywhere. One guest stepped in cat poop under the table! Yuck.
The place was heated by a wooden stove which died out overnight. This place is as close to medieval camino conditions as we'll find -- or ever hope to.

Sunday 30 October -- Manjardin to Ponferrada

With no lounge, kitchen or even bathroom to work in, I used my flashlight under the covers to journal. The wind outside is "howlin' like a banchi," shaking the tin on the roof. I hear a can outside banging on a tree. Probably it's raining. The restroom is my bottle which had holy water carried from Lourdes. Relief facilities here for women aren't existent -- just el campo.

We have now been on the Camino 30 full days, doing about 25kms per day or 25 X 1225 steps per kilometer =ing 30,625 steps per day. So one gets up in the morning and says, "Think I´ll click off 25-35,000 steps today." Am I crazy? But that´s what we do.
Lots of highlight things:

That many steps won't be taken by Deanne today. Seems that she has some food poisoning and is quite ill, along with a miagraine headache. She can barely move. I suggest that they call in a taxi or flag down the bus to transport them to the next albergue, in Pnferrado. As Patti and I leave, we're hoping that catching a ride happens. Pehaps it did, we think, as a long, long wait for them at the next village does not have them arriving.
We go on, not sure what to do or expect.
The downhill this day is intense, unrelenting. We do regular leg shakes, stetches, and coffee breaks all the way down. Our calves and butts are in pain by nightfall -- and will continue to hurt the next day. We get some sunshine late morning, which causes me to cut the plastic sacks off my shoes. Five minutes later, though, the clouds and rain come back. Then the wind. Deanne describes the weather in Spain as "menopausal." If so, the brief sunshine must be a hot flash. We could use more.
We realize that it is Sunday, and wonder about what will be happening in worship back home today, the last of October, All Saints Weekend. We don't know but begin to construct a service for the day with
call to worship ("This is the day...")
prayer ("Almighty God, thou has made us for thyself...")
a hymn ("For All the Saints") which we sing
Patti does a children's message about one of the martyr-saints, St Bartholomew
I try and construct the "Let us praise famous men" passage from Sirach
We go back and make up announcements ("Madrigal choir rehearsals begin today")
Then I try and make a sermon about who we might study and emulate, those on the cover of Cosmopolitan and Sports Illustrated or the saints of old (we recall that Francis of Assisi once walked this very path!)
Together we compose a prayer, especially remembering loved ones
And Patti does the "Padre Nuestra" in Spanish
I find some peanuts to share for communion and Patti offers her Camelback water
We struggle to think of a closing hymn and land on "When the Saints..."
I offer a benediction and we do two parts of the three-part "What Does the Lord Require of You" response.
Then it's time for coffee hour...but there is no fellowship hall for several kilometers.
By mid-afternoon we spy PONFERRADO in the distance, and going into the city -- still in the rain -- a lady under an umbrella comes toward us. Patti asks, "Shall we trip her and steal the umbrella?" I say, "Sure." As the lady passes, she smiles and says, "Buen Viaje." Sweet.
Guided by the yellow arrows, we find the municipal albergue, a facility that can handle 185 pilgrims. As it is fall, there are only about 25 of us there, including the twelve year old boy whom we'd seen runing down the mountain with his orange poncho flapping in the air. He was a wild blazing angel! The albergue was just wonderful. The check-in host was gracious and had a great fire going in the fireplace, before which we could leave things to dry. He told us about the clothes dryer for use after bathroom hand washing AND of the telephones and two computers available upstairs. We made calls back to family in the States. I blogged in our "TEN BEST THINGS TO LOVE ABOUT THE CAMINO" [see elsewhere]. Patti also wrote in the following:

Ponferrada
It has been four long days, mostly in the rain, since we have had internet access. The meseta was long with much wind and rain at times, and then the sun would come out for a little while. We are always adjusting our rain gear and clothing. Deanna Eccles, one of our two traveling partners, says, "The weather of Spain is menopausal." Right now (Sunday night) we are concerned about Deanna and Toby, as when we left them at the most primitive of albergues this a.m. she was not at all well -- perhaps food poisoning? At 7:30 they have not shown up here at PONFERRADA, our first night away from their good company in 26 or so days.
Now it is 8:00. Our wet clothes will be coming out of the dryer and we can go look for the Peregrino Menu Meal -- three courses of invariable offering. Our dinner companion is Robert of Portland, Oregon, who tells about making good money in the summer working in an Alaskan fish canning factory -- so he can travel in other seasons.
Jim.
That evening in the albergue, the "guards" change. A volunteer hospitaler angrily runs me off the internet computer saying the limit is 15 minutes period. Never mind that nobody else wants on. The same guy also got after our roommates, Matt from the U.S. and Jost of the Netherlands, for wanting to stay up late. So they came back to the room to share a toke between them! I slept through all this, but Patti was awake, wishing to be included?

* * * * * * * * *

We´ve had a few "crisis-melt down" moments as when Patti got locked out of the albergue in Leon and when we got separated in the medieval Maragatos town, but other than that we stay healthy, singing a lot, and Patti is mastering the digital camera. Finally we bought a smaller pixel or picture-capacity storage thingee...so these can be downloaded and (by someone) added to the website. We´ll see.
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2005-10-23T22:30:00.000-07:00
TOP TEN LISTS AND OTHER SUMMARIES ON THE CAMINIO

JIM'S TOP TEN THINGS
NOT-TO-LOVE ABOUT THE CAMINO
10.Gnats in your nose while walking / Flies on your food when lunching
9. Coffee without redeeming social value.
8. Showers with irregulatible hot water, then trying to dry with a half chamois skin.
7. Noisy trucks bypassing us in the rain with their water-wind throwing.
6. Missing a yellow camino marker and then walking miles back to find the trail.
5. Doing laundry in the sinks, clothes not drying, stealing from the drying line.
4. Shops not open when you need things, irregular hours.
3. Wet and smelly sheep poop and cow pies on the track.
2. Smoking in the bars, dining rooms, and everywhere.
1. Trash (plastic bottles, t.p., tampax) on the trail, at reststops, behind bushes.

PATTI'S TOP TEN THINGS
TO LOVE ABOUT THE CAMINO
10.Yellow arrows when lost.
9. Fuentes (springs) with fresh, cold water / Tinto vino in the evening.
8. Laughter
7. Dark chocolate with almonds - [Jim: seeing fish below bridges].
6. At day´s end, albergue with bed (camas matrimonial, por favor)and hot shower.
5. Time to converse, get distracted, and come back to the topic minutes/days later.
4. Spain in fall, the colors of autumn, especially green and gold trees.
3. "¡Buen Camino!" greetings of helpful villagers.
2. However difficult the day, the wonder/mystery/surprise thing in that day.
1. The silence, interrupted only by cow bells, sheep bells, or church bells.

_____________
Patti's blog entry for the above includes a picture, I think:

Villa de Mazarife
We will post our top ten best things the next access. We are well.
Entering, Sunday, October 30, Halloween...

JIM & PATTI´S TOP TEN THINGS TO LOVE ABOUT THE CAMINO
10. Yellow arrows when lost.
9. Fuentes (springs) with fresh, cold water/ Tinto vino in the evening.
8. Laughter
7. Dark chocolate with almonds (P) - Seeing fish below bridges (J)
6. At long walk´s end, albergue with bed (camas matrimonial, por favor)
and hot shower.
5. En route time to converse, get distracted, and come back to topic later
(minutes or days later).
4. Spain in fall, the colors of autumn, especially green and gold trees.
3. "¡Buen Camino!" greetings of helpful villagers.
2. However difficult the day, the wonder/mystery/surprise thing in that day.
1. The silence, interrupted only by cow bells, sheep bells, or church bells.

_____________

THINGS NOT SEEN IN SPAIN / ON THE CAMINO
Golden Retrievers
Bushy Beards on Men
Grey or White-haired Women
Ball Caps
McDonalds (except in bigger cities)
Halloween Costumes
Thanksgiving Turkeys
Big Mobile Homes or Trailers

THINGS SEEN IN SPAIN / ON THE CAMINO
German Shepherds, Huskies, Yippies, and Grey Hounds
Men wearing berets and neckties, carrying walking canes, and smoking cigars
Women in towns "dressed to the nines," especially shoes with sharp toes
Interage pomenading till early hours of the morning, no matter how cold or wet
Trees planted in perfect rows for harvesting
Big, Beautiful, Decorated Doors with rain block boards at the bottom
Balconies
Geraniums in Window Boxes
Tobacco Shops selling postage stamps [run by widows of Franco's fallen fighters]
Yellow Arrows

2005-10-18T13:23:00.000-07:00
Monday, 17 October -- From Burgos to HORNALLAS DEL CAMINO and THE MESETA

AWEEK III, THE MESETA: BURGOS TO LEON

t our breakfast-in-the-Hotel we figured there was about 500 kms (275 miles) to go till we reached Santiago. At 25 kms. per day, that would get us there by November 7, more or less. I was thinking "sooner" and "bus, please...maybe train," but the others said our pace would pick up.
Okay, okay.
Certainly we would not be as slow as our fellow-traveler Don Armour who had been hosptialized by bleeding foot blisters and was having to wait out healing days in Burgos. We bid him farewell in front of the Catedral by the seated statue of Santiago, besides whom we took pictures.
Going out of town and on a park table near the Universidad de Burgos we had lunch. There was a nearby port-a-potti "Made in Menneapolis," quite commodius (sic!). Then serious walking: from noon till 6:00, we did 18 kms., crossing three rivers -- the Arluzon, the Urbel, and the Hornazuela -- in which I spotted fish (trout, I think).

The funniest incident of the day happened at the village of Rabe de las Calzadas. We were all resting-sitting on the green bench of Caza de Peridico Catolico thinking "coffee," when we saw a man coming out of a church and hobbling by on the opposite side of the street. Though wobbly of foot, his walking canes were tucked under his arms. We each of us were thinking to ourselves, "school of funny walks" . Then Deanne, in Australian, asks, "Well, why doesn't he just use his steeches?" Well, Patti and I (who were thinking, "Walk this way" from the movie Young Frankenstein) just broke up. Deanne's phrase became one of our standards for repeating in the weeks ahead.
We got coffee, "con leche" (Patti and Deanne), "Americano, largo, negro" (me), and Toby went for "te." Then back to the road.
As we walked we talked films, especially The English Patient and then the Swedish (?) film about the Russian and Finnish soldiers at the end of World War III who lost were befriended by a Lapland girl. What made that movie special was that none of the characters understood the others' language, intentions, or actions. We've each experienced some of that difficulty in our travels.
All our conversations are interrupted for sights: flowers, a yellow bird, a yellow arrow, a tractor tilling soil, turnip/sugar beet? mounds, a limestone "skull," bugs crossing the trail, blue doors, green doors, purple doors and the endless variety of door knockers and nails. Deanne and Patti have to stop and photograph most everything. We stop, too, for campo potty breaks, for Deanne to stack a carrion with stones, me to scratch a fish in moist sand, Toby to fish out his big water bottle from his pack, and Patti to check her foot compresses. BUT the conversations continue in the walking. There is time for them -- in an hour or three days from now. Someone who had both ridden the Camino on bike and then returned to do it on foot compared the two ways and concluded, "Biking is too fast."
By the time this trip ends we may know Deanne and Toby as well as any two else on earth. By age I am twice as old as these two Aussies but we really are aligned. They are both very bright and articulate. I ask Toby whether graduate school is in his future and doesn't say yes because writing of papers takes him such a long time. I can understand that, slow as he eats. Deanne says Toby researches everything before he'll take a course. I say Toby ought to do a thesis on some folksong history, he knows so many songs and cultures, Deanne should do a study on "door nails," and Patti "door colors." Later we'll talk about what book we would write if we wrote a book.

The greatest revelation of the trip for me happened this day. It is a story in itself, which I will call...

UNA ON THE WAY

On the way up the long hill with the skull limestone rocks on it, up ahead we saw a pilgrim with a lop-sided pack slowly making his way up the grade. He had a black dog on a cord leash frisking along beside him. As we passed him he held the overly friendly puppy back. The man wore shabby clothes, had a dark beard and an extremely bushy head of black hair, which practically hide his face. Still, we could see a smile underneath.
We passed him.
Then, when we'd topped the hill and stopped to take pictures of the Meseta stretching out before us to the west, he passed us. As pilgrim and dog went by, I was able to read a scribbled sign affixed to the back of his pack. It said, I thoutht:
LimA
AYUDA
Gsomething
Asomething
I couldn’t get the scribbled Spanish but I thought I read “AYUDA,” meaning “HELP.” So when we passed him a second time down the trail, I stopped and asked as best I could, “Senor, usted necesita dinero (money)?”
He nodded, “Si.”
So I handed him the money I had in my front pocket, maybe 3 Euros and some change. The dog, friendly puppy that he was, was jumping up on me. What I noticed, most of all, though, was that the man had blue eyes, cerulean blue eyes, Paul Newman blue eyes.
“Gracias,” he whispered.
And we went on, me having read and understood the sign on his pack. It really was
UNA
AYUDA
Gracias
Adios
I think that the “UNA” in his sign should have been “UNAS,” meaning “some,” as in “Some Help," the whole note saying, then, "SOME HELP-Thanks-Goodby.” But I like the mis-spelling: it suggested that here is UNA-ONE for us to consider.
We got to the town, Hornillos (kilns?) del Camino, and checked into the albergue, getting our camino credentials stamped with the refugio’s sello. After we’d settled into our room, the hospitaler, Julio, asked the guests if we’d like to see the inside of the Gothic church next door.
“Yes,” most replied.
As we went into the church, I spotted the bushy headed pilgrim of the road, now ensconced under the protection of the church’s portico, out of the rain; his little dog was sleeping on a mat he’d carried so awkwardly on his pack. The man was settling in for the night, available to receive any “AYUDA” visitors might offer. He looked pretty pitiful. I nodded at him going in…and when we came out.
Deanne took it all in, and as we headed toward the bar/restaurant, in a rush of beautiful compassion she said to husband Toby, “Toby, I’d like to take some dinner out to the man.” [Actually she said ‘deener,’ since she’s an Australian, but never mind.]
Toby agreed, and then they enlisted another American pilgrim, Alfonso of Phoenix, who spoke excellent Spanish, to ask the bar-restaurant manager, Dona Hortensia, if food could be brought out to the man.
“Certainly,” she said, adding that she knew him, as he’d been through Hornillos several times. If we wanted to, we could invite him in. It was okay with her.
So I went out and in halting Spanish said, “Señor, por favor, viene a comer con nosotros” (‘Come eat with us’ I hoped I conveyed, also using a hand-to-mouth gesture).
He got up, walked his dog down to the bar and tied him to a bench. As we entered the restaurant I pointed toward the baño (washroom) which he might use. He went up the stairs to it, and I went in to see what kind of table arrangement we might have. Dona Hortensia had set up a separate table for our guest but Toby got her to join two tables together, so we might practice “open table fellowship.” [Thank you, Jesus, for the concept.] The man came in. I looked at Patti and Deanne who showed understandable consternation. I invited our diminutive pilgrim to sit beside me, opposite the girls, with Toby on one end. The man's blue eyes shone as the Riajo vino was poured.
We struggled to communicate in Spanish, mostly failing, but managed to learn that his name was MIGUEL. It seems like he said his last name was MORALES. As our conversation was so difficult, we persuaded Alfonso to join our table and help with translation. He sat at the end of the table opposite Toby. So we learned about Miguel, that for three years he had been on the Camino, going from place to place, avoiding big cities if he could. He said he usually is on the road before sun up and would do a 30 km. day if his little dog can take it. Using my pen on the paper tablecloth, he wrote, “El camino es mi vida” (“The camino is my life”). He also traced a map of Spain and indicated that, originally, he was from a little town near Cadiz and Gibraltar in southern Spain. Around his neck on a string, Miguel wore a collection of little medallions which he showed us. One was from Notre Dame de Puys (in France) which he’d visited; another was from Medjugorje in Albania, it being found by his dog. These all had embossing of the Virgin. Other dime- and nickel-size medallions were from Santiago showing Saint James and the Virgin.
Miguel was a quiet, gentle man, somewhat shy (as I’ve learned many homeless people to be). I guessed him to be in his late thirties/early forties, barely literate. Certainly, though, he was a spiritual man, walking solo fides -- by “faith alone.” He seemed to have learned a “way of life” on the camino for himself, and offered a chance for others to practice their faith. As much as anything, he enabled such-as-we to “let go” a little in the presence of one who had very little and yet so much.
At the meal’s end, he thanked us for the vino and food. Hortensia provided him leftovers for his dog. We left Miguel at the bar, he having a smoke and drink, perhaps on my Euros.
The next morning I got up at 5:30 and went outside to check the weather. (Light rain!) I looked over to the church portico expecting to find that Miguel had already left. But there he was in the shadows. I spoke to him in the half-light: “Buenas dias.”
“Buen camino,” he replied.
Then there was silence.
I didn’t know what else to say. If I could, I would have asked him his middle name, but, on the other hand, I really did not need to. In my heart I knew it already. It is "Iago," as in "Sant-iago." Pilgrims a thousand years ago said he walked this way.

Miguel in the restaurant was not the only thing that made it memorable. Dona Hortensia was interesting in herself. She stood at the entrance to the dining room smoking but would not come in with her cigarette as she are put up "NO FUMAR, POR FAVOR" notices on the tables. This was the only place in all of Spain we saw such a sign, but were grateful for it even once.
Hortensia, sad to report, was not the more careful waitress. As she was serving the tomato-base fish soup, she splashed it on Patti's blouse. Patti went to apply water but Hortensia ran to the kitchen and came back with a spray can of oven-cleaner which she sprayed on Patti's chest [breasts, if you want the truth]. Patti was not pleased. Hortensia insisted that Patti wait till the compound dried, and when it did, she came back with a stiff bottle brush to whisk it off. It smelled terrible and some of the spray and dust landed in the food. Patti forewent soup this night.
Between courses and during the conversations with Miguel, Hortensia stood in the passage way smoking. She was such a character that Deanne began to draw her on the paper table cloth. Well, this pleased her immensely and brought out scissors to save the cartoon for posterity.
Good night, Hornillos del Camino, but it was not so good for Patti and Toby who slept on the upper bunks. All night long they heard a kind of grawing above them, the gnawing of wood ants in the rafters. The sound and thought of falling timbers was not sleep-inducing.

Tuesday, 18 October -- DAY OF THE HEALING MIRACLE

Patti wrote the following entry on the road:

Castrojeriz - Provincia de Burgos
We veered off the path or the camino today where legend has it that the Arroyo de San Bol has a healing spring water. We took off our shoes and bathed our feet in the now somewhat cold water coming from the spring. It is purported that if one does this that you will have no foot problems the rest of the way to Santiago!"
o
Well, I, Jim, am reporting that a miracle occurred. Patti´s feet -- that have been in considerable pain for the past year and on which we spent considerable sums for treatments, orthodics, etc. -- these feet of hers, treated to the healing water of Arroyo de San Bol, ¨let go.¨ She started walking more easily! A full stride through the toes and everything! Seems like a miracle. On the other hand, Patti caveated later that her feet were so cold from the spring water that all feeling was gone and,perhaps that was why they quit hurting. However it is, we walked rejoicing.

To insure foot health, we stopped after 20 kms. in CASTROJERIZ. "Castro" in Castrojeriz means "fortified hill," and, indeed, there was a great hill with a huge towering fort above us. There were two refugios in the town. We took the more modern one which had a camping supply store next to it, in which I bought some warm polarfleece gloves, Patti some liniment, and The Eccles' got rain covers for their packs. I also bought a flyswatter, called in Spanish a "matar moscos" -- to smash flies. I applied the instrument on return and the place got quieter. Toby says that in Australia the flies are so thick and liable to fly in your mouth that people dare not open their mouths very wide anytime; hence, the reason that few can understand Aussie English.
We had a nice dinner in the village at which we made a tentative pact to do some "alone" hiking the next day. Then we had to hurry back before the 10:00 p.m. curfew. Our friends, Paula Villerroel of Madrid and Yann Veroux of Breste, France, in running to get back to their -- the other -- albuergue, did not arrive in time. She had had to return to the restaurant to get a left hat. Three minutes late, with Yann standing in the doorway saying, "She's coming," the hospitaler locked the door. Though their packs and clothes were all inside, he would not let them in, nor the packs out. What a jerk! What Paula and Yann had to do was call the police in Burgos (20 kms. away) and get them to come out and retrieve their things. Then cold and tired, the two came up well after midnight to spend the night in our albergue.
Seems to me the man at the albergue was running more hostile than hostel. The next morning I said to Paula, "Why is it that there are always more horses asses than horses?"

Wednesday 19 October -- Castrojeriz to Fromista -- THE YELLOW-BLUE DAY

The night was one of little sleep and the day began with frustration for me. I arose in the darkness to get on the albergue’s internet. Badly, badly I wanted to enter journal notes…but I did not have the password to log on! I went back to my lower bunk and in frustration began to weep--silently I thought. Maybe I was shaking the bed frame, because Patti’s hand came down from the upper bunk and touched my head, lovingly, with understanding. I was able to go to sleep then.
Before leaving Castrojeriz we bypassed a “NO ENTRAR” sign to see the insides of a church being remodeled. It had giant columns. Then we left the town and started up the steep, shining-mica road to the high ridge. On top we found a resting spot but one totally trashed by the hundreds/thousands of peregrinos before us. We spent an hour picking up paper, bottles, cans, etc. and stuffing them in plastic bags. What a dump, but clean when we left. The hope was that “someone” would come along later in a truck and take the pile to a dump. Toby and Deanne disagreed on where the collected bags should be piled, back in the lot or on the road. Tension. Words. “Reasonable people can differ…” I guess.
We crossed the Rio Asuerga and, thus, left the region of Caza de Burgos and entered in Caza Palencia. We lunched with lots and lots of flies on the porch of a bar.
Then we headed out – into the west wind. It was strong here on the meseta, coming right at us. For a while we tried to “slip steam” together, letting the first walker take the wind and block for other right in step behind. It didn’t work too well because of the guys’ longer strides and the girls’ shorter steps. Must have been funny, though, to see four people walking so tight down the road!
Then came “the holy incident of the day.” [It seems like most days have such.]
It seems we were approaching a little village called BOADVILLA DEL CAMINO, and just outside it, a little old man came toward us, smiling. He wore a jacket with an Ontario, Canada Hockey and his name badge on it: “Alejandro.” His hat was a straw golfer’s type with a hundred medallions on it, medallions of the camino and many other places around the world. We exchanged “Buenas Diases” and Alejandro indicated he wanted to talk and have us sign his autograph book. He gave us a card with his name and address on it, a way, no doubt, of soliciting more medallions. I resolved to send him one from Colorado. At the end of our conversation he indicated he wanted to shake our hands, that is, Toby’s and mine, but desired to kiss the girls—but not a Spanish kiss-the-air-beside-the-cheek kiss. No. On the lips! He was sweet.
Upon entering his village/pueblo, we found a unique fuente (spring) from which water was drawn by turning a giant ship’s wheel pump. A dozen turns and…water, cool, sweet, water. The place of the fuente was in the trees and out of wind, very peaceful and quiet. As it was sunny and we were tired, I took off my shoes and stretched out on a courtyard patio. So restful. I looked up and the poplar tree above me was the brightest aspen-yellow I have ever seen; and the sky the most cerulean blue you can imagine. It was a color splash as seen only in impressionistic arts palets. Doves and pigeons flew across the sky from time to time. Presently Toby and Deanne laid out on the wall beside me, his arm under her head. They too looked up in awe of the yellow-blue wonder. After a bit, Deanne started humming a tune, “Amazing Grace.”
O, God, it was that, amazing grace and beauty and melody. The tree leaves shone like yellow foil. It was a moment others have spoken of, as to say, “I could leave this world now with heaven in my eye.”
We walked on past dovecotes and beside a canal that led to large abandoned locks with waterfalls from them. That night at table in Fŕomista we four, having gotten two bottles of Rioja wine, talked a little about process theology and how humans might be co-creators with God but the wine slowed to coherence of the conversation. Another time.
Patti’s feet have felt good all day. That’s another blessing-miracle.

Thursday 20 October – From Fromista “Carrying on to CARRION” in the rain.

The day began badly. After our café breakfast, I went to see the outside of the 100-columned/315 corbelled Iglesia de San Martin. Patti, Deanne, and Toby went around the other side of the church but I went on straight past it to another café, in order to use their baño. The three came around the church and did not find me. So they went back the other way. When I exited the café I assumed they had passed me going out of town. So I moved out too, to catch up. I was walking hard and seeing no one ahead. Just as I was about to cross a bridge, I heard a desperate, “Jim!” I turned and saw her running. And crying. I ran back, also crying. We held each other a long time.
Strong reminder: we need one another.

The rain kept up all morning and the walk along the river road was a slow, slippery, soaking deal. With Dee and T behind, Patti and I turned off to a little town where we found an outdoor bar, albeit with a almost waterproof top. There we met a Swiss fellow named Nicholas Plinch who was coming back from Santiago, having been on the road a total of 74 days – but not continuously. Like many from Europe, he would do a couple of weeks and they come back later in the year or in the next year(s) to do another stretch. Nicholas was a most interesting chap: music composer, documents translator, speaker of a half dozen languages, and a Protestant. He was the first avowed Protestant we’d met on the trip; most others have been either Catholic or “something else.” As we parted opposite directions at the café, he said, “Well…Carry on to Carrion!”
We did, reconnecting with Dee & T at the church in VILLACÁZAR, home of the Virgen Blanca. This Madonna was so beloved by a Spanish King that he had 427 songs written about her, especially concerning her miracles. One such miracle involved saving some Italian pilgrims on the sea when they were bound for Santiago. During a storm they prayed to St. Peter and Nicholas and Matthew, but they wouldn’t help. They prayed to Santiago himself, but he refused them. Finally, though, the Virgen Blanca came. So rescued, they left their Santiago-intended chalice in Villacázar. And that is why it is here today!
In less rain that p.m. we walked the for-pilgrims road beside the auto highway. We talked for some time as to whether Jesus is “the supreme anomaly” or the “chief exemplification” of humanity. I go with the latter, as that is what Alfred North Whitehead thinks. Toby too. The girls were getting pictures of the camino bollards (concrete trail markers). Then we four walked and discussed all the nativity scenes we’d seen in churches and museums. I asked, “What do you think these mean?”
“Well, the birth of Jesus” – Deanne.
“The beginning of Christianity” – Toby
“How it all began” – Patti
“Don’t think so,” I said. “This is not a picture of beginning but of the end, of eschatology, ‘the last things,’ when all things – men-women, children-adults, rich-poor, animals-people, angels-humans, heaven-earth – are reconciled. That’s why is appeals to us. It speaks to our deepest longings.”
Patti said, “I’ve heard this sermon before.”
“Let’s pick up the pace,” Dee asked.
We did and started in on “Just Singing in the Rain,” which was started up well again.
Passing one town, we actually saw a Harrier (hawk) snatch a pigeon out of the air and fly off with it. Quite dramatic. We walked on, talking about home in Melbourne and Colorado and of jobs and family and travels and, and. The road is wonderful for talk.
Finally we made CARRION DE LES CORDES, so named because El Cid the Conquerer made carrion (chopped meat) of the two Cordes brothers of that town who had married El Cid’s daughters and mistreated them.
“Watch out, son-in-laws,” I said.
“Golf does not constitute spousal abuse, Jim,” Patti inserted.
We stayed that night in the St. Clara Monastery.
At cena (supper) that night, we did a kind of “check in” on how we were each feeling about the trek. All but me seemed reconciled to, even positive about, the road. I confessed I think about “bailing out.” "I think about it every day," I said. The aggravations seem sometime beyond my comfort level, especially considering we’re not half-way yet. The rain, the wind, the strain, the endlessness of the meseta, the absence of creature comforts, etc., I said are all weighing in on me. As frustrating as anything as been my inability to get on the internet (because there isn’t any, or I’m too incompetent to open it, or someone else has it, or because the keyboard fingerins is so different, or, or) to do emails and make journal entries on the blog. Don’t know why that seems important, but for this writer (me) it is.
The refugio at Carrion, as illustration, has no computer. It is also noisy. Snoring was especially bad this night. When I get up in the night to find the rest room down the narrow curved stairs) the floor boards squeak. Then the toilet won’t shut off. I can’t sleep. My leg jerks. A mosquito or spider has bitten my foot, so it itches horribly. And on, and on. Yeah, yeah. [“Poor baby.”]A sleeping pill at 1 a.m. finally put me to sleep.

Friday 21 October – Carrion del Cordes past Sahaugun to LEDIGOS
Awoke at 5:45 to journal in the cold kitchen, unable to turn on the hospitaler’s heater. I wait till 6:30 to go out to use the town café’s internet…and, of course, the place is closed. Seems like I’m learning my Men’s Initiation Rite Lessons all over again:
1. LIFE IS HARD
2. YOU ARE GOING TO DIE
3. YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL [this one is in aces today]
4. YOU ARE NOT THAT IMPORTANT
5. AND YOUR LIFE IS NOT ABOUT YOU
Damn, damn, damn.
We get out packs on and go out into the rain. One of our comrades in albergue says he’s going to take a bus to the next albergue. I look at him enviously in the autobus shelter. The plastic sacks which I put over my socks to keep the water out don’t work. Dry socks at noon with new plastics over them AND over my shoes ae effective for a while…and then give out. We walk 27 kms today, past Sahagun to LEDIGOS. In addition to the rain, late in the day there is a cold wind.
‘THIS IS THE WORST WEATHER DAY OF THE TRIP,” I hope, I pray.
The only thing I remember about this day, besides the weather, were some hen harriers on a telephone wire and seeing fields that were just stones and pebbles turned over, no soil.
That night I spent one and a half hours on the computer writing up the story of Miguel (see earlier) on our blog. I was three-fourths the way through when notified that I had lost all the work.
Instead of being mad, this time I mostly was resigned. I can’t do, the cards are stacked against me, the gods are damning, this seems like a divine NO, why fight it.
So I wrote in my journal, “I shall not try again.”
That night I slept well.
The next morning I arose less anxious. Though the rain was falling, I was not now troubled by it. I just felt better and, then, recalled a statement from a cynical lapel button I once saw. It is perfect for me. It reads:
I FEEL MUCH BETTER
NOW THAT I HAVE GIVEN UP HOPE
That’s me. I think I am reconciled to what must be and what is ahead. I can do this.

__________________________
Shorter verson of above written early in trip:
__________________________

Carrion de Cordes
Patti wrote:
Good morning, we walked yesterday in the rain again for most of the day. We walked along a river but the rain made the pathway fairly mucky and we were slip sliding away!! We found refuge for a bit in a small village where we had a cup of cafe and the rain let up where we began walking again. We shared the time with Nicholas who was walking back from Santiago! He is Swiss and a translator and a composer...for voice and piano. He asked, "Are you carrying on to Carrion?" Well, we explored a 12th century Cathedral San Martin in the city of Villalvacar, church of "La Virgen Blanca" for whom a Spanish king had 427 songs of miracles written -- purpose: to draw pilgrims to the church. One song says that Italian pilgrims carrying a chalice to Santiago were almost sunk at see, not receiving help from Saints Peter, Nicolas, Matthew, or Santiago BUT from the White Virgin...and so left their chalice in this church instead. We sat in the sanctuary with our binoculars and tried to figure out which saints are depicted and which stories are being told. They are amazingly beautiful and these particular ones had the people dressed in a renaissance style clothes, wonderfully colorful. We have a long stretch this morning of 17 unvillaged kilometers. We prepared with groceries for lunch but were too cold, wet, and windblown to stop and eat them til we got to Calzadilla de la Cueza -- and here we ordered warm bocadillas and hot cafe con leche for lunch, AND chocolata, of course. Finally (at 3:45) the sun has come out, so we´re going to continue on. One kilometer more and...
WE WILL BE AT THE HALF WAY MARK BETWEEN ST. JEAN PIED DE PORT AND SANTIAGO!
Today makes our 21st day on the Camino. We continue to be well...yesterday was a hard emotional day but a hot shower and warm soup for dinner helped make it better! We slept in a room to ourselves -- Patti well...Jim, characteristically, fitfully!

Note from Jim: So far on this trip I´ve been too frustrated by the internet sign-on process and different-country computer fingering and their general unavailability to make notes on the blogspot. I have a notebook full of 50 pages of notes, even what may be some fairly interesting "incidents." Whether I´ll ever have ability or time to enter them remains to be seen. So much of this trip is really frustrating. We have to press so hard to get to the next place, yet we want to stop and note things, be "in the moment" (or as Patti´s practice says, "meander to the center of every place"), that we´re slow to arrive and then dead tired. I have to quit now as we have to go on another 7-10 kms to the next Albergue where we´ll try and dry clothes and get ready for another day. Bien Camino.

Sunday 23 October

Patti wrote:
Reliegos
Well, it´s Sunday and we have been a few days without access to the internet. We most gratefully walked today in the sunshine after the last few days in the rain. I think it must have been Friday that it rained steadily and we had an 18 k walk with no villages. We would pass a clump of trees and appreciate a bit of reprieve from the rain! We shared a bag of mixed nuts and we very carefully ate each one indiviually and with the utmost thanks for a bit of nourishment. After about 18kms we came to a village with a bar and we were able to wait out the rain, share a bocadillo (a sandwich of ham and cheese) a hot café and change into some dry socks!! We started out yesterday with gray skies and wind and we had agreed to walk separately for 16 kms (about 4 hours). Jim learned that there are 1225 steps in one kilometer!
I learned the following Rudolf Steiner poem...
The sun with loving light
Makes bright for me each day
The soul with spirit power
Gives strength unto my limbs
The sunlight shining clear
I revere Oh God
The strength of humankind
That thou so graciously have planted in my soul
That I with all my might
May love to work and learn
From thee streams light and strength
To thee rise love and thanks.
We have walked 27 kms today, Sunday, and the sun has been shining on us all day. We have walked on an old Roman road part of the way. We are 23 kms from Leon which we plan to arrive there tomorrow. We can hardly believe it and if anyone looks at a map, it is really quite something where we have come from! My sister, Robbie found a web site that she has been following along with us www.santiago-compostela.net
We are showering and then will go to dinner...tonight at 7...some nights we have to wait until 8 before they serve dinner. Alot of Spanish eat starting at 10. So that is one thing we have difficulty judging somedays, because all the shops and businesses close for siesta from 1 till 5 or so and reopen till 8! Well, enough, we think of so much to say while we walk...sending our love

To LEON

[Add above the frustration I had in the albergue and dropping a raw egg and cursing with “Son-of-a-bitch!”]

Saturday 22 October – Day of SOLO WALKING to Sahagun and on to San Rogue

Leaving LEDIGOS, we agreed to do “solo walking” through the morning. The idea was that maybe you’d see/hear/think/feel things of the journey which we miss when walking in company. Certainly many, many pilgrims do this trek alone, and it must be a different experience for them.
Resolved to notice what I’d not noticed before, I did see and stop to appreciate rough sandstone, a snail, sheep on the hillside, little bridges, and concrete slab BOLLARDS. I walked beside three:
1. Fluorescent orange bollards, rounded at the top, with the initials MOTL (whatever that stands for, gas line?) imprinted in horizontally. It was about 18” inches tall.
2. White bollards with dark green pyramid caps with REtEBHL (?) (whatever that stands for…“electric?”) written vertically. These also were about knee high.
3. Camino bollards somewhat higher, 3’, on unpainted concrete, square at the top, but these had a blue 8” square with a yellow camino shell painted on blue. The nicest ones were a little more detailed, showing a shell on top, crossed walking staffs held by rope in the middle, and the words “Camino de Santiago” on the bottom. (Later on the trail such bollards will show the distance to Santiago in kilometers.)
Having noticed fluorescent (dah!?) bollards along the pedestrian road, I then became aware of kilometer signs on the highway which paralleled my route. I then made a point not take the for-peregrino walkway but walk on the highway. There were signs that indicated kilometer (e.g., 335) for that road and then 1/10th markers. I began to count the number of steps I took between markers, about 120-125. This worked out to right at 1225 steps per kilometer. Doing the math, at a minimum, we would take on this 800 kilometer trip some 980,000 steps. If we did 25 kms, day that would be more than 30,000 steps taken, not to include side-excursions, behind-the-bushes potty runs, getting lost,retrackings, etc.
SO…that is what I learned while solo walking. When we four met up together in Sahagún on the bench in front of the old Cluny Monastery-Albergue with “Jacobeo ‘99” before us, I heard my fellow solo walkers say they had done other things.
*Patti had used the time to memorize a poem.
*Deanne said she had just paid attention to her body, how it worked, how it felt.
*Toby said he found a right walking pace and then joined a melody to it.
I think Toby’s song was “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?” or, maybe, that was what I was humming. Patti’s poem (given her by Deanne) was:

We could have stayed in Sahagún but, as it was still daylight and the rain no too intense, we went on apace. Walking we came upon a sheepherder who was letting his sheep glean a grape yard. By throwing stones for his dogs to catch, he thus moved then and, so, moved the sheep. I “talked” with him as Patti did a discrete photo.

We arrived CALZADA DEL COTO and the best-named albergue on the Camino: The “San Rogue.” We have loved getting to know San Rogue on this trip with his camino hat, wounded leg, and bread-carrying dog. The refugio was exclusively ours for the night, perhaps a gift of fewer peregrinos on the trail in the fall. The town had a bar without tapas or meals, the Xanudú, and a small tienda (grocery store). The good woman in the tienda set us up for “deener” (Deanne’s word) which we had seated on blankets on the concrete floor: bread, cheese, pimientos, olives, ham, nuts, cookies, and two bottles of Riojas tinto. Not bad! We’d also bought food enough for breakfast and lunch the next day.

Sunday 23 October – “SUN”DAY

As I awakened today, I thought: “I feel much better.” Franciscan Father Richard Rohr says that a contemplative is a person who ‘watches where the soul goes.’ I need to be more of a soul-watcher. My ‘son-of-a-bitch’ swearing two nights ago at dropping an egg is certainly indication of being in an angry place. Having “given up hope” (resigned from internet journaling), I was better in disposition yesterday. Maybe I’m better today, especially because the hospitaler provided us café con leche in thermoses this a.m. with which I could begin this day. The sun came in the albergue window.
It was to be a DIA DEL SOL. The sun was out but, for an hour or so, there was the threat of mists and clouds. They could not prevail. The forces of light and warmth came back, and, O, how glorious to walk in the sunshine! Moreover, there was little, almost ZERO WIND all day – a miracle on the meseta!
Patti and I left the albergue ahead of Toby and Deanne, as Toby was taking his time with breakfast. He’d lingered to eat eight (8!) yoghurts. To occupy herself, Deanne did some laundry by hand. She says she’s learned/is learning to live with “Toby Time.” I call Toby “The Tennessee Walker,” meaning that he is always slow out of the gate, but a strong finisher, able to do more kms at day’s end than any of the others of us.
By “forced march,” Mutt and Jeff caught up to us later in the morning at a pleasant fuente where, round about, there was considerable hunting going on, this being fall and all. We’d hear shots from time to time and dogs barking, Greyhounds.
Throughout our travels we’ve seen fence post signs that were divided diagonally into half-black, half-white space. They meant “NO HUNTING.” In addition there were “COTO PRIVADO DE CAZA” (“Private Property – No Hunting”) signs at places too. The land we walked across today (hilly and woody, a little like eastern Colorado) must have been open to hunting. We saw hunters and Greyhounds, some brought out to the country in dog trailers. One guy we saw was shooting and chasing and shooting after a rabbit (conejos), but we never saw him stoop to pick anything up. Must have missed.
The Old Roman Road was ours some of the day, rough and rocky but still passable after 2000+ years! In the best sections you could see the heavy block stones on the edges and then stacked-in flatter stream-washed rocks for the road base. Our guide map said we would come to a river that had no bridge which we'd have to ford. We were ready for such adventure but turned off after about 20 kms and re-joined the
Real Camino .
The path led us to RELIEGOS, the village of the abandoned bodegases, and the fuente/albergue-with-internet/smoky bar there. En route to Reliegos I spent some time talking with Debbie Gill, a 30ish young woman from England who has lived in Mallorca for the last eleven years, working in movie production. She understands Spain better than anyone met so far, that is, who could explain it to us in easy English. She said that pride-in-region is growing in the peninsula, as in Cataluna (Barcelona). Franco had tried to suppress regional distinctivenesses, as in language, but since Franco these regional foci had returned. So that in the Basque Country, for example, road signs would be given in Castillian Spanish and Basue-language. [Same in other parts of Spain too.] So that today there is strong separation movements happening in the country, especially Cataluna. Debbi also said that there was a new government in Spain, more socialist, and they had withdrawn the troops from Iraq which the conservative government had committed.
Debbie is walking the Camino toward her parents who have come in from England and were to meet her in Leon. (When she got to Leon, she learned that her folks had gone on ahead. Upon learning this, Debbie was devastated. Patti wiped her tears and I held her till the shaking stopped. Happily, later, they did connect.)
En route today we also met Barbara Foley Buedel and her daughter Rachael. Yale PhD Barbara teaches Spanish at a college in Pennsylvania, Rachael is a second year college student in Environmental Science.

Monday 24 October -- The Archangel Raphael's Day

From Reliegos we had a 24 km walk to Leon. Per usual, we four were slow-starters; so nobody passed us on the route. Our guide book,Santiago told about a "must see" monastery 15 kms north of the track, but NO. Such would only be possible to someone on a bike or traveling by car. Much of the trek was beside the highway, some of it off-road and tree-lined and some it is just harry-scary with only a few inches between you and onrushing trucks. The weather was frankly cold most of the day, so that when we stopped for lunch was in a covered pilgrim stop with fuente, we sought the sunshine for our backs.
The walk into Leon was not a pretty one, and I had Patti take a picture of a particularly trashy location, so we would remember the unsightliness of the route too. Such "rubbish" remembrance went into JIM'S TOP TEN LIST OF THINGS NOT TO LIKE ABOUT THE CAMINO. Because I was making such a list, Patti insisted (rightly) that there be a TOP TEN LIST OF THINGS TO LOVE ABOUT THE CAMINO. These lists are shown elsewhere.
We passed into old LEON through historic 17' thick walls and found our way to the Nun's Monastery. The convent which we came to is run by lay volunteers who helped us find beds in the dorm and directed me to the washer AND dryer(!). As I did laundry, Patti went to a FAX office to request a ballot for our school board and state referendum elections taking place in Colorado Springs in the next week. Then we went exploring in the city. Travel through the town included visiting a sporting goods store where I learned that, though there was excellent trout fishing in the province, the season was not closed till Spring. Debbi and Patti bought new walking socks.
For dinner that night we hoped to find a non-peregrino meal, but discoved that the better restaurants did not open till 9:00 pm! At a wine and tapos bar we -- the Eccles', the Graves', and Debbi Gill, Patti, and I -- tried to wait out the opening hour out but at 8:30 bailed out, settling for pizza. In talking with Haurt and Jean-Louis, we got the words to the Camino Song loved by the French. It is
in Latin: Ultreie, Ultreie in my translation: Onward, onward,
Et suseia And Higher.
Jeus ad juvanas. God help us!
It really helped our table communications that evening that Debbie was tri-lingual.
We got back to the monastery too late for evening vespers with the sisters.

2005-10-16T12:45:00.000-07:00
Prayer of the Pilgrims
Lord, you have recalled your servant Abraham out of the town Ur in Chaldea and who watched over him during all his wanderings; you who guided the Jewish people throught the desert; we also query to watch your present servants, who for love for your name, make a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
Be for us,
a companion on our journey
the guide on our intersections
the strengthening during fatigue
the fortress in danger
the resource on our itinerary
the shadow in our heat
the light in our darkness
the consolation during dejection
and the power of our intention
so that we under your guidance, safely and unhurt, may reach the end of our journey and strengthened with gratitude and power, secure and filled with happiness, may join our home. For Jesus Christ Our Lord, Amen.
Apostle James, pray for us.
Holy Virin, pray for us.

This is a prayer given to us by the priest after mass in Los Arcos. His blessing to Jim and I after saying we are from Colorado was ¨Good bye! Good luck!¨ This cathedral had a most amazing retablo...full of golden images! We are walking strong and think of a million things to write as we walk...we´ll share some interesting places we spend the night...as in alburgues or refugios...in our style we have begun to do a rating! The good, the bad, the ugly!! These places range from 2.5 euro to the most we have paid 12 euro. Most are run by the municipal...meaning that they are run by volunteers who have walked the camino and return to donate 2 weeks of their time to stamp our credentials (our passport), take our money, answer all our questions about where we can find a place to eat (most of the villages have what is called a Peregrino Menu...3 courses...usually a soup or salad, a main course and a postre or dessert, often flan), where can we wash out our clothes, etc. We have been fortunate to twice have a room to ourselves, once a bunk bed and the other were side by side twin beds. Some sleeping arrangements have 6 people...the most was in Roncesvalles where we were in a monastery withh 100 beds all in the same room! Most have had bunk beds and somehow I am usually the one to climb up top! We get to rate all the snorers of the world but somehow we manage to sleep well enough. We love the places with hot water...I think there has only been one without, one that had no doors on the showers, and some have been excellent. And you must know that after walking all day, the shower is the best! We fall fast asleep after dinner, usually served after 8 pm here in Spain.
Some alburgues are in old churches or monasteries, some are pretty newly built and one night we stayed in one that had been a church, then a theatre. Well, maybe that´s enough to get an idea about how we spend our nights!

2005-10-11T12:38:00.002-07:00
LOGRONO To/Through BURGOS

Tuesday 11 October -- From Logrono to NAVARETTE in the p.m.

Patti, seemingly is the only one with skills and patience enough to make entries into our blogspot on the road. She recorded the following capsule piece en route:

"There is so much we want to write about and tell about but these timed sessions on the internet are difficult...so we will try to tell a part of our experience. There have been many kinds of trail surfaces...sunshine and clouds and mist in the morning, and we have seen some brilliant retablos in the cathedral of the day...In Los Arcos, where we attended Mass, at the end of the service all the pilgrims were called forward for a special camino blessing. When it was our turn to say that we are from Colorado in America the priest said ¨Good Luck¨ and ¨Good Bye¨! We did notice that he had much more to say to the Spanish pilgrims. Each day brings a surprise and maybe last night´s best surprise was from Fernando...who gave us both the best foot rub of our lives! Jim fell asleep as he cared for us and we both thought he was an angel of the day!...We eat well...fresh ¨pan¨ bread and great cheeses and salami for our lunches along with yogurts and great chocolate! We have feasted on the fruits of the land, grapes from the vineyards we pass, almonds, figs, apples, today we found a pomegranite tree! We drink plenty of water and each village or town boasts the best water from their fountains in their plazas! We walk and talk and laugh and cry sometimes....by the end of the day, when we can see the town we are planning to stay at but are not quite there, this is the hardest. We sing funny songs that come into our heads. When are quiet, we then seem to be the best at 'meandering to the center of every place.' We explore so much and sit and listen and rest and then we walk again. Jim is nodding off so I will finish. We have just come back from our dinner...hard to get used to eating dinner at 8pm. We are well...all is well...we send our love."

Patti's entry jogs the memory of several things for elaboration from my notes. We talked a lot about SCORING THE TRAILS. The scoring "system" had a "10" for a track which would be a smooth, preferably grassy, dry, wide, and in sunlight. We only had occasional hints toward a 10. A "1" score would be rocky (ankle twisting), steep, gunky mud, uneven, narrow, and followed in the dark and cold. We hit nearer this score more regularly than the perfect 10. Usually, though, the trails got 6s and 7s, being "not-so-bad, somewhat rocky, modest incline, with occasional mud spots and/or cow manure pies," or something like that.

NAVARETTE was only 13 kms. (6 miles away from Logrono). En route we saw a beautiful fleur-de-leis on its back spider, a weed that looked like a sear urchin, and a red sandstone hill replete with hundreds and hundreds of carins stacked up by previous pilgrims. Deanne took pictures. We made it to Navarette in good shape, though it began to rain at the end. At the albergue we were hosted by George, a delightful Frenchman from Lourdes. He welcomed for his head my Holy Water from his hometown. George was gracious and and full of stories. He asked us, "What do your call a person who speaks three languages?"
"Answer: Tri-lingual," he shared.
"What do you call someone who speaks two languages?"
"Bi-Lingual," we guessed.
"Right. And what someone who speaks only one language?"
"Mono-lingual?"
"No. Americano!"
George helped us do laundry and made us a delicious vegetarian casserole. We laughed with people from Poland, Brazil, France, Sweden, Germany, Australia, and the U.S. For our table blessing, the French led us in singing "Ultreia" -- with gusto. After dinner I told our international friends the
STORY OF THE THREE SURGEONS
"It seems three surgeons at a convention were telling of their successful operations. One said a woman was in a car accident and had seven of her fingers cut off. He sewed then back together, and last month she played a piano concert in Carnegie Hall. The second allowed that was excellent, but he put back together a guy in a plane crash who'd severed both arms and legs, and, last year, the man won the bi-athilon at the Olympics. The third nodded approvingly and said, 'There was a cowboy who got hit by a train, and all that remained after the wreck was his hat and the horse's ass. I put them back together, and today the man is President of the United States.'"
This international table loved the story.
Our shorter day of walking, which this was, was good for our bodies, as Deanne (who doesn't weigh 110 pounds)had severe blisters. Lanky Toby is probably the healthiest of our party but he keeps his knee and ankle supports on. I am afflicted with pain in my shoulders and back. Patti's feet continue to hurt -- I mean badly. She tries rubbing them with oils and puts patches to give relief. What helped tonight was that a Spainard named Fernando (see above) gave her an incredibly wonderful foot rub. He had training in the art, to include finger-nail pushing up the insole. After doing Patti and one or two others, he told me to lay down and put my feet out the end of the bed. My gosh! I went totally asleep under his magic touch. (His "ministering" caused one of the female hikers to fall in love with him, and the two were not seen in the albergues in the days which followed.)

..........

PONDERMENT ABOUT THE CAMINO vis a vis WALKING A LABYRINTH...
Are these related? Camino walking and laybyrinth? I'm thinking so. When you enter into a walk on a labyrinth, you usually come in with a question or concern upon which to meditate. Sometimes on the path, in the turns, resting in the center, coming back out, there is an insight or "still small voice" which speaks to whatever issue you came in with. Just as often, though, the entering concern is never addressed but what happens is that another insight/inspiration about something quite different may come to you. (For example, I might go in thinking about "thanksgiving--to whom should I speak it?" and what I get a message "Be still," which may not have to do with my initial concern.
I'm wondering if this same unexpected insight thing could happen on the Camino. Part of my early-on-the-trail and continuing ponderment is about "losing memory." Is this a thing forthcoming in my life with which I'll need to accept and deal with? The thought brought me to tears yesterday, thinking about the incident with my glasses, the lost map for the City of Burgos, the disappeared pen, neglecting to reverse batteries in my pen light, and other things. This is my question and I am glad to have it come to me, as SM (senile dementia) may be something that is coming.
So, yesterday afternoon on the road, I shared my thoughts about this with Patti. She said, "Whoa! The lesson you need to learn is just 'START PAYING ATTENTION.'" Now, I like her spin on this interpretation. The Holy may be speaking through her. I'll try to remember/not forget...and do what is prescribed: "Pay attention."

..........

Wednesday 12 October -- A WALK IN THE RAIN DAY
Navarette to ST DOMINGO DE LA CALZADO
on
Pilar Festival Day in All Spain
(In remembrance of the day in 40 CE when the Virgin Mary, not yet
ascended, came to Spain to visit her other son, Santiago, who was
doing mission work in Spain. Later, of course (by tradition), he
returned to Jerusalem, was beheaded, and afterward transported by stone
boat back to northwest Spain where he was buried. His bones (relics)
were re-discovered in the 9th century CE. [I'm not making this up.]
But, anyway, this is the Virgin of Spain's Day and a national store-
closing holiday. Diego and Pilar are the patron saints of Spain.)

I was up early today and on the albergue's computer. I learned my editor had many "queries" about the text that only I could answer. The queries were in attachments -- which I could not open.
It was raining hard this a.m., and, for sure, my running shoes are not waterproof. I propose to my fellow travelers that we take a bus to Burgos to avoid being drenched and so I can find a computer by which to make reply to my editor. They look at me like I was the apostate from the Dark Side. No way! We carry on like postmen. Deanne has us put our hands together in a circle and recites our compact: "All in Together -- Never mind the Weather."
So out into the rain. Deanne with her loose-fitting clear plastic pack cover looks like Quasimodo (sp?) of 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame.' Patti's and my REI form-fitting covers work pretty well, though mine held water in the bottom that soaked back up into my clothing sack. Patti and I put plastic sacks over our feet in hopes of keeping our feet dry. It did not work for me but did for Patti.

Late morning we wanted someplace to be out of the rain and warm up. We found the off-the-path Bar de Jaquero which was good for coffee and bocadillas. As we left we noticed walnuts across the street on the ground. We picked up a few, cracked them open, and tasted their ripe goodness. Agreeing to get a small quantity for later, we began an in-earnest collection. I went around the fence into the yard for some laying there, and then a woman came hurrying out of the house with a pail speaking strongly to me. "Oh-oh," I think, "caught in transgression." I hold out my hands offering to give up the nuts I'd pilfered. But NO. She showed me the pail, pointed to its contents, full of nuts, and said, "Para usted, para usted!" She wanted me to take them. That was a switch. What a sweetheart, THE WALNUT LADY.
We went on down the road. For a while the weather cleared, and in the middle of a long downhill slope our road was cut by a GOLD ROAD. Just brilliant. Not sure anybody else really noticed it, but to me it was a beautiful, memorable thing.
We arrived ST DOMINGO DE LA CALZADA mid-afternoon. This town is famous for its
MIRACULOUS CHICKENS
The story is that a family came through this town and the beautiful son was wanted by a local girl. He spurned her advances, so when he left she put the church's gold cross in his pack. The authorities came after him, brought him back and sentence him to death. He was hung. The grieved parents went on to Santiago, but Santiago came to them and sent them back. They went to the scaffold and found their son still alive. So they called on the magistrate to give him back. The Magistrate said, "He's dead. He can no more come back than these chickens roasting in my oven can come back." At that point the chickens left the baking pan and started clucking, alive! So the church in this town always keeps two white chickens -- a gallo (rooster) and a allina (hen) -- at the rear of the church. They draw more attention than anything up front.

Though October 12 it was a national holiday, the cybercafe was in business and I could open attachments from my publisher and learn what he needed to know. I got the questions printed out, to which I, a day later, was able to reply. In the cybercafe was a pilgrim, Paco Angel from Mexico who speaks excellent English. He was staying in the albergue with his "la novia" (significant other), Indigo Sanchez from Portugal (Ph.D in economics reorienting her life out of business world). The two met in India at an Asram of a guru. Paco's mother, Flora Real, we learn, lives in Colorado Springs, formerly of Taos where she had a Mexican restaurant.
"Rita's Cart?" we ask.
"Why yes."
"We know it! We eaten there in Taos. We know Eddie who moved to the Springs to work in a cafe, Le Carreta (The Wagon)," which apparently Paco's family owns. We eat there a couple of times a year.
We promise we'll call on her for Paco when we return.
Wow. Small world. [Only, as Patti says, "I wouldn't want to paint it."]
In the Albergue with us was Maite Ritchie, a Frenchwoman living in England. She's done the Camino three times already, and is, as best I can tell, a "true believer," willing to accept the Santiago and Pilar story or the Miracle of the Chickens account as credible -- even historical. You gotta like her.

Thursday 13 October

A cock crowed at 4:15 this morning!
There was a miracle happen overnight. Patti awoke to have her feet NOT HURTING. It must have been the plastic sack oversocks working for good or something. During the night she had dreamed of walking the labyrinth back home for Jenny Finn, our friend who has again been rejected by her mother. Patti's dreaming/praying may -- O, I pray -- have worked a marvel for her too.
Before we left St. Domingo, I emailed responses to my publisher at Westminster/John Knox. After that I never heard from him again. So...all is proceeding well? The weather forcast which I got on line for this day is for rain again. Apparently in Madrid yesterday is snowed and there was flooding somewhere.
Mid-morning en rout we stopped to see the church in Grano which had a refugio in a monastery attached to it. There we meet Don Almond from Australia who is laid up there with bleeding feet. He is cared for by a gracious Canadian couple who ended up driving him to Burgos for treatment. They also served tea and boiled eggs for us. We also met Conrad and Elaine Angone from Los Angeles there; he was able to show us the difference between older Romanesque barrel arches and the blockier/less decorated style and later Gothic pointed arches, light allowing, upward reaching style revealed in the church. There was also a Moses somebody and Lorenzo from Spain who'd started on the Camino that morning. (People start and stop at many places.)
Saw the beautiful Romanesque baptisty in Redicillo del Camino and a gated room where we watched a gato (cat) jump up on the statue of the Virgin and knock her crown off. Deanne managed to buy another rain pancho in the town, and I managed to leave my "baton de marcha" (walking stick) in the church, for which Patti literally ran back to get. Her feet were better. My back was worse as I'd taken a fall coming down a slippery bank earlier in the day. Graciously, Toby carried my pack for a while, as well as his own. I took two Ibufrofen, even as I've been taking two in the morning starting out and two before I go to bed. Will probably take four tonight.
Going through a field we each picked up about a pound of mud per shoe.
Finally we arrived after this second straight day in the rain in BELGADO. We were the last to arrive and all were assigned top bunks. Not too great for me who every night gets up two or three times to go to the bathroom. I swear I should be drinking wine from that new anti-urinal grape, the one being market with Pinot Gracia and Pinot Noire, it being called Pinot More.
That night we stay in the "Parroquia" (Parish) Refugio run by a volunteer named Francisco. We stayed upstairs in a cold room with bathrooms down a narrow staircase. Franciso will make us breakfast.

Friday, 14 October -- toward AGES
Rain and clearing, rain and clearing several time today...so on and off, on and off with the rain gear. Plastic grocery bags stayed on our feet. It was a 28 km. day, our longest day so far. My muscles, especially groin muscles are hurting, and Patti's feet are hurting again. We walked up and down through farm country, watching men discing their land and had lunch on a grassy knoll on the knob of a hill, under a walnut tree, splitting "pan" and putting in "queso" and "carne" -- standard fare.

The highlight of the day was the church in St. Jean de Ortega and a fascinating capital inside which gets lit up twice a year on the vernal and autumnal equinoxes when the sun coming through a window to hit it. It was a carved-in-stone beautiful/delicate birth series that wrapped the capital, starting on the left with the Annunciation, then the Visitation (of Mary to Elizabeth), to Joseph standing alone, then angels above, ox and a ass below them, they looking at the babe in the manger and, finally, Mary in a bed; around some more, an unknown female figure, and on the backside, shepherds and sheep plus an angel. Toby and I spent time with binoculars and flashlights deciphering it.

As in days before, as we walk, we talk and sing. The talk is about our lives (my book, Patti's garden, Deanne difficult principal, Toby Tasmani travels, etc.) We're getting to know these two well, and they us. We talk about our families, their problems and successes, out relations to parents, siblings, children. We talk about Myers-Briggs Personality types and the Enneagram -- my 7ness (epicure generalism), Patti's 2-ness (caring), Deanne's 4 (artyness), Toby's 5 (caution). We find interests in common, like movies and share storylines. Toby may recite a poem or find fennel for us to eat. Deanne or I will stop to examine a stone. Patti will note a flower for us to appreciate. Yes, we're getting to know each other well, perhaps by the end of our journey better than any other couple on earth, or, at least, as well others whom we've known for years and years. Time to share is a powerful connector.

I think about entries I want to make in the journal, knowing full well that I may forget what I wanted to remember. Like, for days, I've been saying on the trail, "Whatever does not kill me, makes me stronger." I finally figure out that it was Neitzche who said this. Seems like it is good thought hard days on the Camino.
As Patti and I walk I say to her that I just realized that my strongest characteristic may be doggedness. When I was 13 or 14, I went on a three-day camping-hunting trip with some Bob Scouts. After a day and a half everyone had given up on the possibility of shooting a squirrel. But I kept going out and going out. Then late morning on the day we were to leave, I found one rocking in a evergreen tree and shot him with my 410. I think that is doggedness and it shows up in persistence recently manifest in finally getting "the book" out. I'm not sure that I would have made this childhood connection to late adult behavior if it weren't for time to reflect on the Camino.
Patti asks if my single-mindedness might be something that keeps me from hearing others.
I reply, "Huh?"

We arrive the AGES albergue which is relatively new and comfortable, though tight-quartered. The night-into-morning turned into a nightmare for me -- and all because of LAUNDRY. After three days of raining with limited access to washing facilities and little chance for anything to dry, I just have to take advantage of the albergue's washer and dryer. Patti was quite tired. I volunteered to do laundry. But it was not easy.
First of all, I could not tell the difference between the washing machine and the dryer, and I could not read the instructions for running either, both printed in Spanish. Not figuring rightly , I took someone's semi-wet clothes out of the drier and put mine in for washing. Of course, it did not work. Finally a Spanish-reader read me the dial for the washer and pointed out the 'cotton' stop in the dial. So I put 'em in with the soap and waited thirty minutes. Take them out was impossible, as the door would not open.
Meanwhile, the guy who clothes I'd taken from the drier came in and was ticked, to say the least, that I'd moved his clothes. He put them back in and cussed me out in Spanish. All I could say was, "Lo siento, senor."
I finally figured out that you have to wait 2 full minutes after all cycles were complete before you can open the door. When it finally opened, however, all my clothes were still wet and soapy -- very soapy. So I had to rinse them and wring them by hand, not very successfully, I must say.
The other man's clothes were still in the drier.
It was after 11:00 before the drier shut off with his clothes and, in fear and trembling, I took them out, putting ours in. I folded his as carefully as I knew how. At 3 a.m. I came down to see if the clothes were dry. They weren't. I restarted the drier. At 6 a.m. I returned to the machine. The clothes were still wet. I tried it for an hour more and then had to accept semi-wet clothes for my backpack.
To make matters worse, I washed all the white things in with my green khaki pants, and the dies came out to turn all the whites dingy gray. Patti was not happy.
It was a bad night in a nice place.

Saturday, 15 October -- Arriving BURGOS

PATTI WROTE A SUMMARY OF RECENT DAYS:

Sunday night in Burgos
Well, we have now been walking 2 weeks and 286 k´s - about 177 miles! We can hardly believe that we have come this far. Yesterday we walked through countryside and through a flock of sheep, mostly white but a few black ones! We crested a hill and there was the city below us! We walked a couple of days in a soft rain that tested our gear pretty well, but in some ways we thought it was a ¨cleansing¨part of this journey! We are both walking pretty strong and we are both well. We definitely are ready for bed at the end of the day. We have been to Santo Domingo where there is a great story - legend about chickens that have come back to life and indeed, there is a rooster and a hen that are kept in the cathedral there. We are told they are changed out once a month. We have been walking through some incredible forests, up hills and down and we rate the walking surface...but I can never remember the rules...if a 10 is good or bad! It is an almost indescribable thing we are doing...but we walk on. We spent a night in Ages at a new alburgue and were treated to a communal meal of paella and salad and melon for dessert. The beds were great and all things were so clean! It was very nice and I was very tired and may have been one of the first to sleep. We arrived in Burgos last night to stay in a hostal that was not so great! Jim thinks it may be the worst dump he´s ever stayed in his life! We survived the night but have moved today to be in Hotel Norte y Londres where we are sleeping in a king size bed and we both have had a real bath!! It has been like heaven. We will pick up a package from the post office (correos) in the morning and will begin walking again.

I ADD FROM MY JOURNAL NOTES ABOUT BURGOS

Starting our of the village of Ages we stopped at a bar for coffee and got the friendly manager to call ahead and make us a reservation at the Joma Hotel in Burgoss, reommended as "reasonably priced" (25 Euros). [See above and below for consequences.] Before leaving the bar and town, two amazing things happened. One was we met a modern St. Domingo of the Chickens: a man who could go up to a hedge and lift out a wild blackbird! AND, of all things, on the soccer field was a group of men FLYCASTING!! They had come from all over northern Spain to try out their rods and practice casting techniques. I learned there was great trout fishing in the rivers of the Province of Leon and salmon fishing on the coast of Asturias. My mind began to think: "Hurry forward by train...fish...they can catch up later," but...no. Walk on.
We walked past the ATAPUERCA RUINS with humanoid evidence from 1,000,000 years ago. Upon finding a labyrinth made with stones, we, in solidarity with the Atapuercans of yore, did our standing "Prayer to the Sun": (1) hands down to the side, palms forward, (2) hands over the chest, elbows up, (3) arms straight forward, palms down, (4) hands back, fingers touching the ears, (5) elbows out-crooked, palms toward sun, (6) wait/feel/listen/breath, and (7) slowly reverse the process to rest.
Sheep tracks led us to the huge herd which absolutely filled the horizontal landscape. They were accompanied by a paw-ailing dog whom Deanne befriended. The sheep herder was indifferent.
Lunch that afternoon was in a field beside the road. The breeze was cool but the sun was out. I reclined on my pack. Toby stood and recited -- with actions -- Hopkins' poem, "Wind Hover," and the girls lifted their drinking cups and pleaded toward the home across the road: "Tea, please, tea." O, what a plaintiff call, but no angel of tea-mercy came. They made fun of my bouncing stomach as I laughed at them.
Finally we made the outskirts of BURGOS, and I said, "Let's take the bus in." Torn between sticking with me and resolution to walk every step of the way unassisted, she cried as I went toward the bus stop. The bus, though, had just left and another would not come for an hour. So on we walked til she found an electronic store from which she could buy a charger for our out-of-juice camera battery.
During that purchase time, I did hop on a bus and went to the city centrum to be sure we still had a room saved for us. We did. With
"MARIA IN THE HOTEL JOMA."
Ah, Maria. You get to her third floor "hotel" by entering a beautiful marble hallway and staircase. The clean beauty, however, is deceptive. There is Maria who suspiciously lets you in. She doesn't speak any English but can say, "Passeporte," which she takes and never returns till we leave. She also wants her money up front. I drew a picture of Maria noting her apron safety-pinned to her dark blouse, her unzipped zipper in the back of her dress, her ring-rolled socks and holey house slippers. She shuffles as she goes from room to room. She shows me a room. It is pretty bad, dark. I ask to see another. It has an outside window but terrible bed. Okay, even though there is only one sheet on the bed. There is a lavartory in the room with a drinking glass which looks like it has been cleaned by "Coldwater the Dog." Ugh. There are loose wires on the walls, some of the windows are cracked, and the linoleum floor has chunks out of it. Toby and Dee, hopefully, may get another choice. [They don't; they get #1 room.] I take a shower in the one bathroom for the fourteen rooms in this flat/hotel. It is bad, dark, dingy and soon out of hot water. O, my.
This is the worst hotel (?) I've stayed in in my whole life. It is unlit, dusty, smelly, unpainted, and smudged. In the entry way is a Kermit the Frog non-working clock beside a statue of Jesus (Sacred Heart of...), and a blue plastic bottle that once held liquer. O, my. The "art" on the walls in the "dining room" is cut-from-magazines girls; on the tables are plastic flowers; the chairs are the alumininum tube type from the 50s.
But she has our money and my passport.
We stay, reluctantly, and no one else trying the shower. We did not have bed bugs.
Maria and the other "guests" -- or family members? -- regard me and the others in my later arriving companions with suspicion. When I was up early journaling in the half-light, a man comes in and opens a window making the place cold, and then he turns off the overhead light. I say, "No, senor, luz, por favor." But he leaves. I turn the light back on and close the window.
Patti opines that Maria is Fascist, waiting for Franco to come back.
On the streets of Burgos that evening we discover that there are hundreds of families out strolling around, pushing baby carriages, window shopping, talking with friends, drinking and eating at the bars, and smoking (of course). They are dressed to the nines -- men with ties, women in high heels. They were still out in great numbers till quite late, children and all. Different culture.
Our "dinner" that night was an antepasto plate of two strips of bacon, three salami slices, three round bacons, three thin ham slices, and a dozen calamari rings -- all cold. Different culture.
We stayed on the streets in the cold as long as we could stand it and, then, needing sleep, went back to Maria's, using our three keys and let in by a suspicious doorkeeper.

Sunday, 16 October
As early as we could, WE LEFT.
(I took a picture of Maria and the girls; she unpinned her apron for the photo.)
We checked into the HOTEL NORTE Y LONDRES.
What a difference 40 Euros make: king size bed with sheets (two), shower AND TUB, clean curtains, wrap-around towels, TV, and hair dryer. Patti was in heaven. She took three hot baths before we left. She also gave me a haircut. Nice.
The day was mostly spent in taking in the magnificent, white Gothic Catedral y Museo de Burgos It is quite wonderful with its great arches over the doors, Moorish Star lantern vault (binoclars showing a carved nativity with a black Santiagoish onlooker and a white elephant!), the tomb for El Cid, and I can't remember "what all." One what all was a painting of Jesus on the cross wearing a brilliant red dress! We asked people then and later why Jesus gets such a dress, and the answer seems to be "Spanish modesty" for him. Strange painting but popular.
There was lots of others paintings and statuary. Seeing the statuary, I remembered words that the statues in a place were "cast from behind." Cast from behind? Toby thought this might be an obscure sculpting expression, and Patti said it explained why so many saints had pained expressions! Certainly the gargolyes seems to have been so cast.
That evening Patti and I went to mass in one of the chapels of the cathedral. I was able to utter a few words on Spanish for the Lord's Prayer; Patti, though, nailed it! The most interesting thing for me was seeing the presiding priest drop a communion wafer, quickly reach down, pick it up, and eat it himself. He looked shook after that.
Our dinner was San Miquel beers, followed by emailing at a cybercafe. Then the Hotel Norte y Londres' camas matrimonial reino-size.

Monday, 17 October -- Out of Burgos toward HORNALLAS DEL CAMINO
Got up early and did emails on the hotel's computer.
Before leaving the city, we stopped to see the inside of the Saint Nicholas Church which had a graphic "Last Judgement" painting and a fine statue of San Rogue. We're going to see San Rogue a lot, the French pilgrim who went to Rome, was wounded in a fight, took ill, was fed by a dog, and visited by Santiago. He is often shown with his camino shell pilgrim hat, pointing to a wound on his thigh, with a little dog holding a loaf of bread.

As we walked today we'd break into song from time to time. (See earlier indication of some of the songs we'd opened up.) Toby knows hundreds of songs. So do I. We can call them up pretty well and sing them out. We do.
As we walked and talked today, singing a little, he and I considered

SONGS AND DREAMS
We began talking about “Unbidden Songs,” that is, lyrics and/or tunes that pop into one’s head from time to time and echo around in there from time to time over considerable time. What do they mean, if anything? Where do they come from?
I have a little intimation.
My father (a man who liked to sing, though not trained) used to sing spontaneously a line or two from an old gospel hymn. He’s sing it with some regularity, while we were driving in the car or while fishing -- and for no particular reason. It was just a song “in there” that came out, almost nconsciously. It was called “Further Along” and had the words
Cheer up, my brethren, live in the sunshine
We’ll understand it all bye and bye.
Further along we’ll understand why.
As I listened to this song then and think about it now (he’s been dead over 40 years), I believe it had to do with helping him deal with his mother’s death. Maybe it was sung at her funeral around 1930, when he was twenty years old or so.
In a similar way, my father used to sing, especially when he got drunk, a country and western song called “Tomorrow Never Comes.” It had the refrain,
And she told me that she loved me
But tomorrow never comes.
I have no idea what it meant to my father, but, surely, something.
I personally have – or, more accurately “had” – such a song that used to come in and out of my head and voice for no particular reason. It was the haunting
Georgia, Georgia,
No peace I find
Just an old sweet song
Keeps Georgia on my mind.
It was not about “The State of…” but some girl named Georgia, but I never knew anyone named that who would be special in my mind. In a kind of “free association” that I let myself do on the Camino, though, I made this speculation to Toby that the sad lyrics might be my way of dealing with a love that could not be. Here is my association: A week or so after I became engaged to my first wife, I went to Kansas City for a student government conference and, there, met up with a girl whom I’d really fallen for the previous summer. Call her Suzy. In our three brief days of reunion I realized I was “in love” with Suzy but could not/would not unmake my engagement. I just had to leave my feelings there in unrequited love. My speculation, then, is that the song, “Georgia,” spoke to that emotion of longing and helped reconcile me to what would/could never be.
DREAMS may function in the same way too. They help us deal with unresolved stuff. I told Toby that I had such a dream just last night. It concerned being with a “significant other” (not my then wife – call her Suzy II) in a Big Foot Vehicle and getting it stuck in quicksand hole. I assured Suzy we could get out, and I drove the vehicle over a ridge. Then we went down a narrow raised track, very fast. Somehow we did a turn and, while Suzy tried to remain anonymous, a mutual friend (Sam) nevertheless recognized her. Then a second friend (Sam II) asked me point blank, “Are you still carrying a torch for her? I thought you said in a song ‘I Can’t Remember That It Was Over.’” [?] That was the dream and its words. Then I woke up, feeling accused and guilty. All that has to do, I’m sure, with that time of having an affair and trying not to be discovered and, also, with Suzy II and me trying to figure out a way to be together, which we never did/could/or/would.
I’d had a similar dream with similar feel to it some nights before but couldn’t remember how it went. What Bob Dylan said in a song is basically still true for me:
At dawn my lover comes to me
And tells me of her dreams
With no attempt to shovel the glimpse
Into the ditch of what each one means.
So, “SONGS AND DREAMS.”

2005-10-07T12:21:00.000-07:00
POST-PAMPLONA to LOGRONO

Wednesday 4 October, continued

CIZUR MENOR has a private refugio run for 18 years by Mirabel, a woman who speaks many languages, a great help. The place is a haven with a beautiful garden. She got us settled and we did some washing of clothes (a part of which were stolen overnight, namely Patti's Smartwool socks). We enjoyed the yard with deck chairs, had snacks, and watched a turtle in a pond. Patti reported a small blister on one toe but, otherwise, we have been spared such -- and, till the end, were not afflicted. Many others have been sore-afflicted, some bleeding and they having to go for medical help and needing to stop off walking for days. [For myself the double socking I did, with thin-wicking and heavy-cushioning socks, was just protection-perfect. Patti finds more protection in using a roll-on gel which I tried a time or two but finally found unnecessary.]
In town at the Tourist Information Center in RANCON, I bought us all a Camino metal to affix to our clothing (my hat, as it were), and I had my picture taken in the garb of St. James with brown cape, hat with front brim back showing a camino shell, and staff, water gourd attached. There should be a picture.
Before supper we went to the nearby church, St. Miquel, built in the 12th century. It was locked. I went to the back and knocked on the door of the priest, asking in halting Spanish if we could see the inside. He said, "Abro ahora" ("I'm opening it now"), but I thought he said, "En una hora" ("In an hour"). Such is the problem of trying to communicate. He did open it promptly and we found a jewel of a sanctuary in which we could stay for some moments in quiet and prayer. Such stopping makes this a more Christian pilgrimage. The Christs on the crosses and the Virgin Marys above the altars must wonder what all the in-and-out onlookers are about.
Every hour, half hour, quarter hour that night we could heard the church bell sound the time.

Thursday 6 October -- WALK TO THE WINDMILLS DAY
Patti and I set out from Cizur Menor ahead of Deanne and Toby. In soft sand we left them an "OLA, D & T!" Most of the morning was spent walking up hill toward the Energia de NaVarra wind fans which stretch for miles and miles along the high ridge and are HUGE when you are next to them. Normally their turning makes a major humming noise, but they were quiet today in limited wind.
Then there was a steep downhill with 400 meters drop. We looked for some shade for our lunch and were joined by Deanne and Toby who'd found our "OLA." We walked on together in the afternoon, talking of many things in clusters of 2, 3, or all 4 of us. Our topics vary: dreams and their meaning, politics (they are anti-the-current reactionary administration in Australia), travels (in Turkey), horses (Deanne loves them), school/ing (Waldorf), weeds (Toby worked to control them), and more.
We also sang songs to and with one another this day, as the days before -- and as in the days to follow. Here is a partial list of

SONGS SUNG ON THE CAMINO
TRAIL SONGS
Ultreia, Off to See the Wizard, Yellow Brick Road, Upward Trail, On the Road Again, Zum Tally Goose, Little Red Wagon, You Take the High Road, Side by Side, Take Me Home Country Road,
PLACE SONGS
Waltzing Mathilda, Oklahoma, Banks of the Comdamine, Spanish Boots of Spanish Leather, Deep in the Heart of Texas, Mississippi Mud, California Here I Come, Do You Know the Way to San Jose?, This is My Country, O What a Beautiful Morning, Pack Up Your Troubles,
RELIGIOUS
Swing Low Sweet Chariot, Amazing Grace, Good King Wenseslaus, I'll Walk with God, Dona Nobis Pacem, Lord of the Dance, What Does the Lord Require of You?, We Three Kings of Orient Are, There Was a Little Baby,
LOVE
Cruel War, Beautiful Brown Eyes, Babara Allen, Let the Rest of the World Go By, and (from The Student Prince) Heidelburg, Tell Me Why,
OTHER
Sea Chanties (Sloop John B), Railroad Songs (500 Miles), Drinking Songs (Drunk Last Night), Fraternity Songs (Pass the Loving Cup Around);
Green Grow the Rushes O, Pack Up Your Troubles, Oh What a Beautiful Morning, Here Comes the Sun, Summertime, Froggy Went a Courting, Sunshine on My Shoulder, Yellow Submarine, Beverly Hillbillies, Lions and Tigers and Bears, Blackberry Blossom,

We were in Rioja Wine Country and, as we walked, we picked giant clusters of ripe purple grapes from the vines in the fields. Delicious. Grapes in hand, we did a detour to see the Hospitalers' Church at EURANTE. In spite of the bus-load horde of children running amoke here too, we had some quiet moments for prayer.

Then we marched on to PUENTE DE LA REINA, through it and across an ancient and lovely bridge to the new alberque at the top of a hill. We share a room with the Eccles's and with Javier and Esther (or,Indigo?) from western Spain, near Portugal. After settling in, we went back to town for a Pilgrim's Meal (quail for me, veal chops for Patti, and bread-fried hake for the Eccles'), including Rioja vino and the region's other famous food: white asparagus. In the restaurant we met a couple from Autum, Germany (Charlemagne's ancient capital). They had already been to Santiago and out to Finisterre ("end of the earth") and, now, were heading back to Germany. They fairly glowed with satisfaction. We touched them for luck. We still have a huge way to go.
My "luck" at sleeping, I must say, has been less than in luck most every night. This night, though tired-tired, at 12:30 I was still up and sneezing like crazy. Thirteen (13) used facial tissues suggest I could have more than just an allergy attack, but I feel okay. Finally, I took a sleeping pill and managed to drift off.

Friday 7 October ... Puenta la Reina to Estella

Each day our travel pattern is pretty much the same: walk - stop to do breakfast - walk - stop/take off our shoes/dry socks/lunch/rest - walk again - rest -- walk -- till some 25+or- kilometers are done. Patti can be heard to say at day's end, "My dogs are barkin.'" Invariably each day there is something special that is seen/heard/experienced, like today walking over a part of an old Roman road with its heavy outside stones holding the smaller stacked ones in place. Humbling to consider that people have been walking over these stones and the Roman Bridge for 2200 years! Today as we walked, I lent my LEKI walking staff today to Ulrike Meinel from Heidelburg. She had pulled a calf tendon walking too hard-too fast the days before. Though from Heidelburg, she had never heard of the musical "The Student Prince" or the songs all about her city.

There are fewer sheep now and more acreages under cultivation. Farms under discing appear, along with the vineyards, aspharagus fields (under black polyphrophelene), and family gardens. The area is hilly and we go up and down and up again! Over one ridge Deanne found some pretty rose, smokey, and clear crystals I put some in a plastic bag to carry to Cruz de Ferro (the mountain with the iron cross and rocks). This night we arrived ESTELLA and the albergue.

Reflecting on the journey so far, it is hard to believe that we have come the distance we have, over 150 miles!?! En route there has been time to talk or be quiet. Talking, we've had good discussion about something seen on the road, read in the evening, or remembered from history. We talk about Constantine, Bush, the Crusades, you name it. I was recounting to Toby how much of Christian and classical literature was shipped to Ireland for safekeeping when the barbarians invaded the Roman Empire in the 4th century CE. Toby then threw out a gem of quote from professor who said that the libraries of antiquity were destroyed by "moths and Goths."

Saturday 7 October -- 8th day on the Road
-- 135 kilometers down the way
-- or 75 miles, that is, an hour's car drive distance
I am awake most morning on or before 6:00. It is quiet and I can journal and read. At 7:00 a scramble begins with fellow peregrinos getting packed for the day and trying to be out by 8:00. Without daylight savings time kicked in yet, it is usually dark til about 8:30, and that is when we leave.
My mood, early in the day -- and for the last two days -- is not happy. I keep asking, "What have I gotten into? Why am I doing this?" It seems like too much of a struggle to go so few miles, especially after so little sleep + constipation + all the uphill climbing + the muscle spasms in my back caused by the pack. I try not to show my moroses feelings, but they are there. Toward the end of the day, however, my mood is changed. I'm not thinking about jumping ship. "I can do this," I'm saying to myself. Patti reads my moods pretty well and says, "Pilgrimage is a metaphor to real life with ups and downs, people who bless and hinder, sights and samenesses." She's right. Am I worrying too much after just one week of walking? Probably, but it means, at the rate we're going, we have more than a month to go, to endure. That's depressing. My fishing friend back home, Bruce Kuster, said, "White, I know you...and you'll find a way to escape." I'm thinking about that as the trains go west.
The downer mood was broken today because of the "fuenta de vinos" (fountain of wine) at the Bordegas (Cave) Irante Winery. On the winery's outside wall there was a tap from which one could drink free wine! They only asked pilgrims not to fill up their canteens! Nice fortification.
Another interesting distraction of this day was that, suddenly, when going through a woods, there were shots above us -- dove hunters in tree blinds. They had dogs at the bottom of the trees to go find the downed birds.
On the Camino people pass us all the time, and we seldom pass any one. We stop to see things, photograph them: buttons on doorways, plants in window boxes, flowers in the field, fish under bridges, eschucheon-crests on buildings, church capitals, etc. etc. And then there are all those FRUITS AND VEGETABLES to inspect, photograph, and, sometimes, steal and eat: grapes, tomatoes, aspharagus, cauliflour, pimientos (peppers), apples, pears, artichokes,pomegranets, berries (several varieties), nuts (walnuts, pecans, almonds, acorns, chesnuts, and buckeyes) and olives (definitely not edible). And, of course, we have to stop for cafe con leche (coffee with milk) and snacks regularly.

Late in the afternoon we made it to the Pilgrims' Welcome Station at LOS ARCOS, then went through the town to the albergue, only to come back at 7:00 pm for attendance at the town's mass. This was the high point of the day when, in the ornate barogue church the priest said in English to us at the closing blessing, "Pray for the peace of the world." Something about that seemed just right. Then he called the various pilgrims to him by language groups and gave each person a copy of a

Prayer of the Pilgrims
Lord, you have recalled your servant Abraham out of the town Ur in Chaldea and who watched over him during all his wanderings; you who guided the Jewish people throught the desert; we also query to watch your present servants, who for love for your name, make a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
Be for us,
a companion on our journey
the guide on our intersections
the strengthening during fatigue
the fortress in danger
the resource on our itinerary
the shadow in our heat
the light in our darkness
the consolation during dejection
and the power of our intention
so that we under your guidance, safely and unhurt, may reach the end of our journey and strengthened with gratitude and power, secure and filled with happiness, may join our home. For Jesus Christ Our Lord, Amen.
Apostle James, pray for us.
Holy Virin, pray for us.

The senior priest spent time chatting amicably-personally with each of the Spainards. To us English-only speakers he said only, "Good luck, goodby" and, to the next, "Good luck. Goodby."
Later we got more out of him through his priest-in-training, Andrew, who knew some English. To wit: Toby and I could not figure out what was the creature in the chalice which John the Evangelist held in several statues. Normally, I've thought it was a dragon or snake in the cup, but the priest told us it was a pelican, the bird which will tear her breast open to feed her blood to her children that they might live -- just like Christ did for our salvation. Wow! A sermon on "The Birds" could be done by also talking about the Phoenix, the bird who rises from the fiery ashes. So the sermon could be on crucifixion (Pelican) and resurrection (Phoenix).
Happily, I didn't have to preach this weekend but can sleep, however fitfully, through Saturday night.
At the end of the mass and pilgrims' blessing, one of our fellow walkers, Agneta Aberg of Sweden, said to me, "I am not a believer."
I replied, "After this trip you will be."
(I think she went home before reaching Santiago, though.)

Sunday 9 October -- LOS ARCOS to LOGRONO
One surprsing, one hard, and one stupid thing happened, among others, today.
The SURPRISING thing was that as we walked we began to be passed by light-pack hikers. I finally stopped one and asked who they were. Turned out they were a hiking group of about 30 from Vitorion (a town near Sabastian) in the Basque area. The guy I talked with (in broken Spanish) was an artist, a chiroso- and wine-maker. He got out a leather boto and invited me to take a drink, that is, squirt. I squirted it on my face and hat. He showed me how to do it, taking the stream from a foot or more away. Patti did better in the drill than I. My white hat has a purple stain now.
The HARD thing was just the continued up and down hill walking. We sang "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," an outward expression for inward wish that a chariot might pick us up and carry us forward. "At least," I thought, "we could hire a taxi to carry our machillas (packs) to the next refugio." But no. My back goes into spasm toward the end of every day, in spite of the stretching exercises Deanne has shown me.
The STUPID thing of the day was getting lost. As we were within 8 of so kms. of Logrono, I got overconfident about the arrows and "knew" where they would be and pointing. We went down a road to an arrowless turn for a few kilometers when across the field to our north we heard a voice yelling. It was Toby yelling, "Wrong Way." So we walked across the fields to him, he having dropped his pack in order to run to find us. So he got us pointed in the right direction again. But then, I proceeded to not watch for the signs again and had to be called back. O, Jeez. We knew we were back on the trail when the toilet paper began again. Double Jeez.

Some of the day's walking was alongside a beautiful reservoir where we saw swans and carp. Some of the walking was alongside a highway and around super highway construction. At one section there was a hog wire fence, and previous pilgrims had begun to weave crosses from wood and other materials in the mesh. We made out contribution of a Tau ("T") cross with aluminium foil. Looking down at the superhighway, we are reminded that SPAIN IS NOT A THIRD WORLD COUNTRY. The Mercedes zipping down the four lane and boys riding sleek motorbikes on the trails suggest there is wealth here, at least for some. Maybe all the smoking is indication of "money to burn."

Entering the city of LOGRONO we were created by a woman who offered to give us a "sello" (stamp) for our credentials book. We already had quite a few stamps from the refugios where we'd stayed and a few churches. That very morning in a little town, Torres del Rio, for example, a woman opened the local church for us see, and seemed to say, "Leave a donation." We did. She also let us pat her dog. And here in Logrono the trinket sales lady had her sello for a donation too. Enterprising folk, I'd say.

How the church supports itself is not clear to me. The other night in Los Arcos at the eveing mass (well attended), a collection plate was passed, but only coins went into it. No paper Euros. Priests salaries could not be made from such a offering. I suspect that the State itself, which is friendly to religion, undergirds the church. The schools, likewise, may be run by the church but paid for by the state. SPAIN IS NOT A SECULAR SOCIETY. (I understand, though, that Spain is having trouble recruiting priests, just as in the U.S. and other countries, e.g., France.)

Tuesday 11 October -- LOGRONO in the a.m.
We spent the morning in this city with several facilitating items on the agenda: (1) to mail some postcards, the mailing made difficult because I lost the city map to the Correos (Post Office) and we got lost, (2) to get a photo disk cut from our digital camera shots, only to discover no foto-centre has capacity to convert from a large (1000 picture) chip, and (3) to get me a new pen (because I lost mine) and some soap (forgotten in a shower stall), and a glasses cord (so I won't loose my new specs).
All these problems in maintenance makes me wonder, "Am I losing it?"
Late morning we leave Logrono for the next town, Navarette.

2005-10-03T08:41:00.000-07:00
OVER THE PYRENNES/FIRST LEG...to PAMPLONA

Saturday 1 October -- to O'RISSON
At 10:30 we went to the optician's with our packs on. By 11:30 we were leaving the town. Our first walk was short, only about 5 kilometers, but hard uphill. It was sunny and warm, so warm we zipped the bottoms half off our pants and went to short sleeves. There were great views of the Pyrennes' ragged mountains, one with a razor sharp ridge to it. There were round hills with white cattle and white sheep on green slopes.
Right away we realized: there would be almost endless time -- not just hours but weeks -- to discuss things in depth and nuance, if we chose to. So Patti and I had a big "conversation" about "decision making" (e.g., whose idea was it to do this trip anyway?) and "disregarding" one another and being "intimitated" by the other's competences, and so on. We could not run away. It seemed less threatening to talk of such as we walked.
The conversation broke off as we discovered black berries. Delicious! Gifts of the Spirit quiet other spirits. Then we could resume talk, sweetened.
We arrived the O'RISSON REFUGIO in just over three hours time. It was new and modern with a restaurant-bar, occupied today (Saturday) by Basque sheep herders. This is Basque Country and we had a Basque dinner that evening: a vegetable soup and mouton (sheep), ending with cremebuly. I learned the following about my name:
in English it is James and Jim
in French it is Jacque
in Basque it is Jako
in Spanish it is Diego or Jaime
and
in Espanol Ancien it is Iago -- hence Santiago, Saint James.
In Latin, on my compostela, it will be "Iacobum."
In our room were four others, Michael (a German)and Henry (a Frenchman)and couple from Gnoble, France, Huante and Jean-Louis Grave, whom we would see time after time on the Camino. Jean-Louis showed me some stretches for my strained leg muscles and tendons. Henry introduced us to the French Way Camino Anthem, "Ultreia," the words of which he wrote down for me (in French). Basically it is a song about "Onward, Upward."
In the night, this first night, when I started to get up to go to the rest room, the middle muscles in my thighs shortened up and grabbed me. Terrible pain. It took all I could do not to cry out, awakening the whole room. Oh, wow.

Sunday 2 October -- My 68th Birtday -- to Ronces-Valles/Vaus
In a light rain we left O'Risson after all the other pilgrims had gone. We had something like 20 kilometers to do, up and over the mountain and down, crossing the Pyrenees from France into Spain through thick fog, cold rain, and wind. Our gear (rain jacket and pants, pack rain cover, gloves, snood, and hat), we found, worked great. We did not fully understand some of the things we saw, notably these 8' x 4'concrete structures with raised rail on each. These were put up about every 100 yards; at best we think they were hunters' blinds for hunting vultures. We did fine the skeleton of a huge 6'+ size. I forget to ask the woman who ran an aviary museum at the end of the trail as to what they were but we did learn about Skites (?) that live in this country too, as well as storks.
The rain and wind picked up as we neared the top of the pass. It was cold. As we started down the mountain we reached a spring and a large concrete marker with a camino shell carved in it. It said, "Santiago 863 kilometers." That's a lot of miles, about 450, I think. Then we crossed through a fence and went into SPAIN.
Almost at the bottom we came to little stream, and in it I saw a little 2 and a half inch trout, a nice present for my 68th birthday!
We arrived in Roncesvalles/Vaux about 4:00 and signed up for the refugio which had been an old monastery, very big, holding about 150 beds (bunk) in one cavernous room. It was run by some gracious, multi-lingual Dutch women who provided tea, walnuts to crack and eat, classical music, and newspapers to stuff in boots to help them dry out. The restrooms were excellent, big and clean, with a downstairs area of washing-drying machines, study table, internet access, and good lighting. Had a great warm shower. We awaited the "Pilgrim´s Mass" at 7 pm in the church (with three priests) where they read out the nationality of all the pilgrims, and we were invited forward for a special blessing. Then we got to eat at 8pm...a special Pilgrim´s Meal, otherwise known as "Menu of the Day"!
On this, our first full day on the Caminio, we rejoiced to think we were basically well. Our training had worked. Our equipment stood by us. I had no more muscle cramps.

Monday 3 October -- to ZUBIRI
Monday, Monday...we have made it to Zubiri, having walked 25k up and down in the cold. We wore our rain jackets and warm hats and gloves all of this day! The sun broke through the cloud cover a few times to allow for spectacular vistas and we walked through Basque lands listening to cow bells and sheep bells. We ate many blackberries along the way until I fell into greed and toppled head-first into the briarpatch, blooding my right hand! We brunched and lunched along the road on bread (pan), goat cheese (queso), yogurt and apples (manzanas). We laughed out loud and sang mountain songs and listed the countries from which other pilgrims we have met are from...Australia, Britain, New Zealand, France (the most), Spain, Canary Islands, Germany, Norway, Switzerland, Brazil, Canada, and the US (Montana and California). We all struggle communicating but manage, and all share a common goal: Santiago de Compostela!!
It is "beautiful, beautiful," Patti keeps reminding me, but I'm not keen on the cold or lack of creature comforts. I begin to compose a TOP TEN LIST OF THINGS NOT TO LIKE ABOUT THE CAMINO. (This list is shown later.) Using a line from "The Wizard of Oz," Patti says to me, "If you're not good, I'll have to send the flying monkeys." I promise I'll be good.
Our bodies held up today, though changing elevations from 952m down to 528m.
That night was spent in a refugio, converted from an old Catholic school. It was perhaps the worst alberque on the camino with a smelly inaccessible toilet, unsheltered shower stalls and unrelenting bright light coming into the room all night from the courtyard. Here, though, we met up with Harte and Jean-Luis Grave again (having supper with them) AND we met this delightful young couple from Australia:
DEANNE AND TOBY ECCLES
Little did we know then that these two from "down under" Melbourne would be our companions most of the journey. In their early-thirties, Deanne and Toby have been teaching in Waldorf Education (Rudolf Steiner's creation) for a half dozen years and, finishing with a class, decided to do extended round-the-world travels, going to Indonesia, Egypt, Turkey, Bulgaria, Italy, and I can't-remember-where else over the last year. Learning about the Camino while in Spain, they took on the walking challenge. For Deanne's artistic tastes and Toby's culturally inclusive mind, this was a perfect thing to do. That is perhaps why we too hit it off so well with them. Deanne is a woman not more than 5'1", while Toby is about 6'2" tall -- a real Mutt and Jeff -- but strong walkers, astute observers, great conversationalists, and fun people. Patti and Deanne would spend a lot of time taking pictures on their digital cameras of doors, door knockers, flowers, and yellow camino signs, thus delaying our walking progress, but, truth be told, they sometimes had to drag Toby and me out of historic buildings. We became fast -- or should I say "slow"? -- friends.

Tuesday 4 October
As the Eccles' and we were the last to leave the albergue this morning, we agreed to walk together. Just a few kilometers down the way we stopped for a little track-side breakfast of yogurt and fruit. Deanne, though, dug into her heavy pack and come up with a burner stove and proceeded to make us all some hot tea! We used water from a spring (fuente) that, a little later, we saw cows were drinking from too. Our breakfast chair was a low wall in front of a house which turned out to be a converted old church. It had bell, buttresses, and an old graveyard to one side. Fascinating. A number of pictures -- which can be seen in our collection -- were taken of it. Faster walkers would have missed it.
We walked on and began to sing Aussie ("Waltzing Mathilda"), American ("Take Me Home, Country Road"),and other ("Cruel War") songs, a longer list which I'll include later.
We found a kind of pear-apple bearing tree beyond the fence line. We were tempted. I told them how St. Augustine as a youth stole pears from a tree and how it created guilt leading to his famous "Confessions" -- not a bad outcome. We gave in to temptation. The fruit was good. Such falling into temptation would happen with other fruits, nuts, and vegetables along the way. We would have "specifics" for confession in Santiago.
Mid-afternoon we came to the fortress wall and gate of PAMPLONA, the first city of much size on the Camino. Deanne and Toby found the alberque but Patti and I checked into a one-star pension with twin beds and toilet-down-the-hall and a grumpy manager. I got flashlight batteries, shaving cream, and soap (having left mine in the shower at Rancesvallis). Twice that evening we bumped into Toby and Deanne and recommended that they might mail some of their heavy backpack stuff (stove with fuel, tent, sleeping pads) ahead to Santiago.

Wednesday 5 October
Next morning they did, at the correos (post office) where we met them as we had stuff to send forward to Burgos and Santiago ourselves, mostly book parts and unneeded clothing. Patti and I also sent a letter to Nance and Sam McCullough with a relic (bone fragment) from the rib of Roland -- 7th century knight to Charlemagne killed in this country during the 7th century CE and immortalized in the "Chaisson d' Roland." Now, I grant you, it looked like a sheep's rib bone, but revelation to me indicated otherwise. The McCulloghs are into relics, having years earlier sent me a bone of St. James from Santiago; though it looked like a Colonel Saunders chicken bone, they assured me it was authentic. Years later, in 1996, when Patti and I were in Izmir, Turkey (near Ephesus) I found a swatch of cloth on the street and realized -- by revelation, again -- that it was a fragment of the girdle of Mary, dropped when she ascended to heaven. The McCulloughs believed, of course, and had the material made into a necktime for me. I still have it, in my reliquary tie rack.
Anyway, we did some mailing.

Then we visited La Catedral de Santa Maria where we saw the great stained glass and stone sculptured cloister windows, kitchen and refectory, Virgins and Child, processional crosses collection, etc. We saw the gold "French Reliquary" (small and exquisite) which was recommended as a must see in our "Santiago" travel-culture book. My flashlight and binoculars were of help in appreciating the church and exhibits.

After noon we gathered our packs (saying "Lo siento" -- "I'm sorry" -- to the proprieter for not following the check-out time) and left Pamplona for CIZUR MINOR.
The route was along the Arga River where, every bridge, we'd spot trout.

2005-09-30T02:11:00.000-07:00
COLORADO SPRINGS - NEWARK - AMSTERDAM - TOULOUSE - LOURDES - ST. JEAN PIED DE PORT

Tuesday 27 September
By phone arrangement, THE PASSPORT WAS SENT TO NEW JERSEY AND RECEIVED BY PATTI'S SISTER, ROBBIE, who brought it to the Newark Airport where she and husband Sid met our late morning arrival flight from Colorado Springs. The Shelton-Limperts took us for a picnic at Liberty Park before. The occasion was just surreal, bizarre to start out in the dark seven hours earlier and now be in bright sunlight/clear sky/pleasant weather with the Statue of Liberty and the New York City skyline in view across the Hudson river.
Our thought: "Are we really doing this?" Too weird.
Flying over NYC and the Connecticut-Long Island shoreline later that p.m. with all the lights coming on was simply spectacular. We set our watches ahead six (6) hours (8 hours Rocky Mountain Time) and let KLM take us through the night with movies, excellent food, including wine and warm towels. For four hours my six-hour sleeping pill worked.

Wednesday, 28 September
From Amsterdam´s Schiphol we flew south to Toulouse, and, wonder of wonders, both Patti's and my luggage and packs arrived safely. We took a bus to the train terminal and then walked 8 blocks to our Hotel Citea. Once settled we took a Metro train to the Capitole Square busines district and, based on phone arrangment, sent package of clothes to Santiago's Hotel Estela; then we visited Cathedral San Servin (12th c.). It is huge. Someone was playing the organ, magnificently and LOUD. The whole effect just took our breathe away. I was reminded or a plaque given us on my retirement which reads:
"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take,
but by the number of moments that take our breathe away."
It was a good beginning point for us as "pereginos" (pilgims), as for centuries hundreds of thousands of European pilgrims had also stopped here en route to Santiago.

Thursday 29 September -- The LOURDES Day
Getting onto the train this am and riding west, I felt particulary ANXIOUS about travel coordination into and away from Lourdes but knew I simply had to be "in the moment" and appreciate the cream colored houses with orange tile roofs of Toulouse. The train traveled through farmlands with the Pyrennes arising in splendor on our left. Every little town has a church steeple which dominates.
We got off in Lourdes in sunshine, me wearing my dark glasses. Walked our way into town and out to the Shrine Grounds. The number of "nurses" everywhere was off-putting. Who are these women in white dress uniforms with the gold crosses on their bonnets? Is there some kind of nurses training hospital here? No. As it turns out they are mostly "transporters," taking wheelchair people to the 'La Grotto' of Bernadette and back to their rooms. As we stood in line to pass beside the grotto of revelation, we saw hundeds of disabled and wheelchair folks being escorted to the shrine, they having priority entrance over ambulatory pilgrims. We finally walked by and felt the moisture on the Grotto's rock sides.
One just had to be moved by the sight of so many hundreds of people (thousands in a day, really) who come to this shrine with hope for healing of themselves or for loved ones, or just for solace of the Almighty in their terminal situation.
Was I the only man wearing a hat? It appeared so. Wonder why.
Just beyond the grotto were fountains where holy water ('eau') could be taken. Patti put some on my head -- for hair growth -- and I filled my empty plastic scotch bottle. (It went with us, sometimes used to anoint other pilgrims, for a few hundred kilometers till I decided to lighten my pack from the weight of the water.)
Then we went into a cafe to have a little lunch. I took off my sun glasses and went to my pocket for my regular glasses. They were not there. Not in my fanny pack or big pack. Where could they be? I ran back to the train station and looked in the rest room and bench where we'd set. No glasses. Must have been left on the train. I contacted the station master and he forwarded an alert to the next station to look for such glasses. It was inordinately difficult to explain my problem to the speaking-French-only station master.
So we left Lourdes sans spectacles and went on to BAYONNE, changed trains to travel up a lovely river to ST. JEAN PIED DE PORT. Walked into the village and from a helpful man named Jacque (French for 'James') we got our Camino Credential (paper to be stamped/posted at places were we stayed/ate/visited.) Then we went to our first 'refugio' or 'alberque,' a kind of hostel where pilgrims share a room filled with bunk beds, the rest rooms down the hall or stairs, these usually sex-separated. Dinner was had a restaurant that night with fried trout as the appetiser.
Breakfast the next morning in the albergue was of coffee/tea, yogurt, hard bread, and jams, all for a modest contribution, a few dollars -- Euros, actually.

Friday 30 September
I wrote, "Here we are, Lord, waiting..." in St. Jean Pied de Port, waiting. Waiting to go over the Pyrenees - the first leg of our journey. Waiting for my new distance-seeing lenses to arrive by train from Bayonne. I was tested in an optician's store for the same and told that bifocals or graded lenses can be done only with a week or more of wait. So it is distance-only for me in the clear lenses. [These were with me the rest of the trip, creating lots of on and off, on and off, so I could see things up close.] I am sorry to cause this delay in our start down the Camino and sorry for the big expense it creates ($360).

While waiting and exploring the village, we early went into the church to light candles and pray. I used my binoculars to figure out a familiar saint in a nave. It was St. Teresa of Avila (Spain), whom we've seen in the chapel at LaForet in the Black Forest.

Learnings, so far, about language:
It is difficult to communicate in another language. French for us is impossible. In broken Spanish we somehow managed to speak Spanish in Pied de Port to the French-only optician and get glasses ordered.
Hearing school playground noises in the morning from our refugio window, we note that children's laughter is the same in any language, all over the world.

Late in the day, just before dinner -- always with international guests (they all will be) -- we returned to the church and found the candles which we'd lit early in the morning still burning, as if praying for us all day. I could not help but cry, wondering, "Are my 'left behind' glasses a sign of senility coming on?" I had promised Patti I would watch out for her on this trip, aware now that it is likely she who most needs to watch out for me.
Tomorrow the glasses will be ready...and off we'll go, OVER THE PYRENNES.

2005-09-26T04:53:00.000-07:00
"The road is all..." is what Willa Cather the novelist said. It was our first choice of a title for our blogspot.

Other literary lines we found include:

"Glorious it is when wandering time has come."
— Eskimo Song

The Five Excellent Practices of Pilgrimages
Practice the arts of attention and listening.
Practice renewing yourself every day.
Practice meandering toward the center of every place.
Practice the ritual of reading sacred texts.
Practice gratitude and praise-singing.

Dear friends, on September 27th we leave for (1) our pilgrimage from St. Jean Pied de Port in southern France, walking 465 miles across Spain to Santiago de Compostela, then (2) on to safari in Tanzania with our sister, Alice, and, finally, (3) to spend Christmas in Karlovy Vary, Czech Republic, with our friends, Jan and Jana Vales. We send our love! Vaya con Dios.!

SONG OF THE CAMINO: "ULTREIA, ULTREIA." Meaning: "Onward, Upward"

___________________

CYNICAL / TONGUE-in-CHEEK EXCHANGE between Jim White and friend GEORGE PURVIS

Original email message from James White responding to and email from George Purvis in Florida:
--------------
George, you're up awfully early to be sending stuff out.
Peace, brother.
Jim
P.S.in just 18 days Patti and I are going on a 450 mile walk on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela. "Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death." What has that woman got me into?

g.purvis@att.net wrote back:
OK, OK.... it's not a Muslim trek. I just got educated by google... to discover that it is not necessarily a hard core, self-sacrificing, Ogden/Spong/Gomes kind of hike. It is primarily geared to rich Fundamentalist "Protestants" who want to flirt with R.C. history... what with "luggage transfers"..(not just backpacks?)... and "shuttles!! and info on "gastronomy", "night life"...
The three most dangerous things I noted that I would offer for your safey concerns. Third, don't get within a shepard's-staff-distance of the three foot tall child in brown pilgrim clothes/hat.... Second, don't even walk into the crumbling Cathedral in Santiago...and, first, if you do, enter quickly, do NOT make a loud noise!
Am a little concerned about the nationalism of Spain....the statue of St. James has him wearing a spanish hat. But they were true to his theology, by insisting on a works-righteousness-hike to revere him.
About the doctor's offices that Patti visits....... just what kind of Travel magazines do they provide?? .. or does she have a RC background? Understandablly, you can't take a shotgun on the path... but are you taking your fly rod? Does Patti know??
Now I'll enjoy my thoughts of you even more.... be safe..... hugs,
George

James White wrote back:
George, perhaps you don't understand masochism. This is the 4th century all over again -- that century when things got soft on the faithful after Constantine coopted the church...and so the true flaggelantes went to the desert. Well, since my retirement in May I have gotten soft too, with pension and social security checks coming in and all that great fishing I've done in Colorado but no committee meetings to suffer under or Saturday night sermon agonies...I just needed a way to beat myself up some more and thus be cleansed. So, off to the meseta of Castille in Spain. Hit me again, please.
And what a partner I have in Patti! Do you understand sadism? Well, with my maso-, we're just a great team.
And then after Spain we go to Tanzania, Africa, to do work among the Swahili (she has a Pentecostal sister there), checking out the chetahs and giving our bodies to the sun god on the coast, etc.
And then we go back to the land of Jon Hus to drink the cup with a Czech minister friend and wife, having Christmas in Bohemian snow.
And finally return to NYC for the Broadway Play "Wicked," which book Patti is reading as personal inspiration.
Meanwhile "my book/the book" is off to the publisher (final-final version returned last week) to be outted in the Spring...then I do the nation-wide book signing tour beginning in Florida, I plan, staying with you and going for Redfish between Barnes and Noble stops. Right.
That is all.
Jimmy
P.S. I'm copying this to select friends (Jane and Bruce Warren, Cathy and Jerry White)who rode the Camino on tandem bikes and were instrumental in corrupting our minds and desiring the callousment of our feet. They'll enjoy your avoidance therapy counsel.

2005-09-10T21:12:00.000-07:00
OPENING THE BLOG and PREPARATION NOTES -- September in Colorado Springs

Saturday, September 10
Starting note: "We are at Jane and Bruce Warren's having a planning/briefing session and last supper with them before launching for the Camino de Santiago de Compostela!!! We are ready, our packs are starting to fill up. And Bruce and Jane helped us set up this blogspot." [End of first note.] Our blogspot is
pattiandjim.blogspot.com
and our special-for-this-trip new email address is
pattiandjimonthecamino@gmail.com
Patti composed and printed a multi-color postcard to mail out and give to family and friends about our trip and contact numbers. Our hope is to maintain the blogspot as we go along and, when possible, put on graphics downloaded from our new Olympus Digital Camera. (As it turned out, Sid Shelton was able to put some on from CDs we burned and sent him by mail.)

FLASHBACK:
On Sunday May 22 in the retirement worship service, Patti and I received a going away gift of two LEKI WALKING STAFFS presented by Cathy and Jerry White and Jane and Bruce Warren. So began the preparation/packing process for an October trek on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela. Before it was all said and done we'd spent well over a thousand dollars at REI, Mountain Chalet, Orvis, and others.

PREPARATION:
BACKPACKS -- We borrowed better packs from Robbie Limpert/Sid Shelton, lighter and better form fitting than those we had. Much time was spent trying to eliminate stuff to get down to 20 pound [10 kilo]loads per each. Hard decisions.
BACKPACK CLOTHING AND GEAR
Assuming I am naked, the following was in my backpack, starting at the bottom:

Outside accessible backpack pockets -- dark glasses in hard case, plastic water bottle [Patti used a one-liter Camelback], sun block, REI toilet paper in waterproof case, hand sanitizer, and camino guide with maps.

Fanny pack (strapped around main pack, used in city-walks) -- binoculars and flashlight (for inside building viewing), big handkerchief, Swiss Army Knife with cork screw, airplane eye covers, rain pants and snood (for ear and face protection).

Botton compartment of pack:
Clothes in a MESH SACK holding two pair of thin socks and three pair of heavy walking socks, three pair underwear (quick dry), two undershirts, long-sleeved shirt, two pairs of pants (one heavier khaki multi-pocket and one light zip-off legs), web belt, and two regular handkerchefs.
Clothes in smaller SILK BAG holding thin gloves, stocking cap, quick-dry long johns and long sleeve shirt (for sleeping mostly), Janska polar fleece booties, and a quick-dry towel (half-towel chamois type material).

Main pack compartment:
Lower Section:
compressible pillow [seldom used, but Patti used hers every night], light Crocs (for off-Camino change, great for bathroom/shower trip; some things were often stuffed in the Crocs for compactness in pack);
"dopp kit" of two plastic bags, No.1 for regular use with toothbrush and paste, razor, shaving cream, wash cloth, shampoo (no conditioner), bar of soap, and flashlight --all small-- and No. 2 zip-lock bag for supplement toiletries with pills (allergy, headache, skin, sleeping) and lotions (skin, cuts, chapstick), ear plugs, dental floss, second razor, and matches. [Patti's pack carried more rubbing ointments for sore muscles and her foot massage balls.] In addition in each of our packs there was a PEBBLE, mine was of Pikes Peak granite, picked up on our walking trail in Colorado Springs. It had a kind of white quartz cross in the red feldspar, making me think it would be a right rock to add to the stones on the Cruz de Ferro (Cross of Iron) on a mountain near the end of the Camino.
Upper Section:
books: (1) thin guide books (one US Camino Association book with better maps and other from British St. James Confraternity with more up-to-date information [a third book we saw with plasticized pages and colored maps was probably better yet], (2) ripped out portion of "Santiago" culture book, (3) a Spanish-English dictionary, and (4) my journaling notebook(s) with pen. All was kept wrapped in clear plastic sacks. And usually I'd keep my fleece pullover here for easier access when the weather turned colder.
AND there was space for food -- lunches, mostly, and some other meals; I had honey, instant coffee individual packs, and wished I'd included salt-n-pepper compact shakers.

Pack's Top Fold Over Compartment:
rain jacket/wind breaker, plastic store bags for shoe and/or sock coverings, and back pack rain cover. To the outside of the pack cap was attached a Camino Shell and some safety pins (used to hang out clothes needing drying as we walked).

In addition: my tie-down Tilly hat (rain resistant and wide-brimmed)and shoes (jogging type with orthodic insert). These jogging shoes worked well but certainly were not waterproof, and, looking back, waterproof would have been better. Because of them, though, neither Patti nor I experienced bad blisters. Others wearing hard leather boots did so more often.

PATTI'S PACK contained much similar to mine but in feminine description. In addition, she carried our (1) digital camera, (2) first aid kit, (3) eating utensils, (4) her red "Life is Good" ball cap, and some foods, notably chocolate.

GETTING IN PHYSICAL SHAPE
Most every day through the summer we walked-ran four (4) miles on our hill track. Patti went into fitness training with a trainer two times and week, culminating on August 3 with a successful ascent up Pikes Peak with her sister, Robbie Limpert, and her friend, Jan Erickson). We began to carry our backpacks on our walks, adding rocks or filled water bottles. As a for-real try-on we went on four-miles-in-and-up, and four-miles-down-and-out horse-pack trip with Bobbie and Bob Tucker along Avalanche Creek near Carbondale, we walking in with 20 pound packs. Did the same on a 9-mile hike around Catamount Reservoir. I was back to running a mile.

Our FEET were a concern, especially so for Patti who has had chronic pain on the balls of her feet for a couple of years. Prior to going she was getting massage and acupuncture treatments. Eventualy we both got special-made insert orthotics. Dr. John Daughtery worked on my plantar facitis and arm tendenitis. The efforts helped, as we left feeling healthier.

SPANISH
Trying to do a hurry-up course to learn/relearn Spanish to use on the trip was a feat not mastered. We got private help in our home from Irma Pawlinsky who had helped us once before on a trip to Guatemala. She had us watching and trying to learn from the language-learning serial "Destinos"; we got through 15 of the 40-some tapes. I had a tape series called "Conversational Spanish" and went through it three times. The facility comes back quite slowly. Is is/was 'muy dificil.' As it turned out, I could read quite a bit of Spanish, Patti could hear it pretty well, but neither of us could speak with any proficiency. We prepared ourselves with an all-incompassing phrase: 'Lo siento'--"I'm sorry."
We worked on learning THE LORD'S PRAYER in Spanish. It is
"Padre Nuestro, que estas en el cielo,
Sanctificado sea tu nombre,
Venga a nosotros tu reina,
Hagase tu volundad en la tierra como en el cielo,
Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada dia,
Perdona nuestras offensas, como tambien nosotros perdonamos a los que nos offenden, No nos dejes caer en la tentacion,
Y libranos del mal. Amen."
Patti learned to speak this easily, could rattle it off quickly and accurately. I struggled to articulate it the whole trip -- and always hesitatingly.

TRAVEL ARRANGEMENTS
At first we tried to do our own ticketing via the internet but were soon confused, and the cost of flying to France, Tanzania, Czech, New Jersey, and back to Colorado came up for us as $6,500. Uh!
We contacted Kathy Roberts at Taylor Travel and her genius got the ticket price for our travel down to $2400 per each! She worked magic.
The hardest, most tramatic thing happening in the days just before we left was the fact that Patti's application for a PASSPORT had not generated it. She'd call every few weeks toward the end and they'd assure her it would be coming prompty, and, no, she need not pay the $60 special handling fee. But on the Monday before we left we did pay such fee, but the passport did not come return mail. It did not come by Saturday or Sunday or Monday. Tuesday was the day we were to leave, early in the am. So we had to fly off to New Jersy not knowing if Patti could continue to Europe or not.

MOTIVATIONS THOUGHT
"Why are we doing this trip?"
This question will echo to us on all the days of the Camino.
It is not a journey for us as it was the pilgrims of old, a way to receive a certificate of absolution of sin and guarantee an entrance to heaven. I say this, but, later in the text of the camino journal, I do come to appreciate these notions of old as not entirely beside the point. In more contemporary understanding, I think we did the trip as a "help with discernment." Patti and I are in a major transitional time. I am retiring from 43 years of ordained working ministry, sixteen of this years having been at First Congregational United Church of Christ in Colorado Springs. Retirement is hard as active ministry has been the reality of my life for so long. It is hard for Patti too, as this church has been her's long before it was mine. She's been a member 20 years and most of her closest friends are in it. We are having to sever relations for at least eighteen months, till a new senior minister is chosen and settled in. So we go on the Camino with not a little sadness of loss and with considerable concern as to "what's next?"
This is a religious/spiritual exercise for us and not just exercise (physical). Will God be giving us some insight for our lives? We trust so.

LEAVING THOUGHT
On Sunday September 25 we were invited back to church to receive a roof shingle plague as kick off for the re-roofing project to happen this fall while we were away. During the service I shared with the congregation our travel plans. At the end of the service, the congregation sang the hymn, "Won't You Let Me Be Your Servant?" Listening to it, thinking about the words and the days ahead, trying to sing, both Patti and I were in tears, unable to finish singing:
We are pilgrims on a journey, we are travelers on the road;
We are here to help each other, go the mile and bear the load.
Oh, wow! And then the fourth verse:
I will weep when you are weeping; when you laugh, I'll laugh with you.
I will share your joy and sorrow, till we've seen this journey through.
Tuesday we are off (assuming Patti's passport arrives).

Here is
Patti and Jim White's Travel Schedule
Tuesday, Sept 27 -- Leave for TOULOUSSE,FRANCE via Northwest Airlines and KLM which will take us through Minneapolis, Newark, and Amsterdam, arrive France Wednesday.
September 29 -- Eurorail to visit Lourdes on the French side of the Pyrennes.
September 30 -- Leave St. Jean Pied de Port, France (there getting our Pilgrim's initial certificate) to walk over the Pyrennes and begin a 4-6 week pilgrimage across Spain on the CAMINO DE SANTIAGO DE COMPOSTELA, arriving Santiago about November 7.
Nov 8- 24 Travel by train thru SPAIN, hoping to do Madrid, Seville, Granda, and Barcelona, working our way back to Toulousse.
November 25 (Day after Thanksgiving) -- Leave Toulousse for Amstersdam and on to MOSHE, TANZANIA, AFRICA to be hosted by Patti's sister Alice. Will see her missionary work there with the people in Moshe (e.g. the new Women's Center) and, in short time, go inland for a four day safari in Tarangire Nature Park and out to the coast for beach time.
December 8 -- Leave Kilimajaro Airport for Amsterdam and go on to PRAQUE, CZECH REPUBLIC to be picked up our friends, Jan and Jana Valez (who have been in Colorado Springs and whom we've visited two summers ago). We'll be staying with them in Karyve Vary (west part of the country near the German border). We'll be there through the holidays.
December 28 -- Leave Prague for Amsterdam and NEW JERSEY to be with Patti's sister, Robbie and her family. Will likely see a play or two in New York City, returning to
COLORADO on January 5.
So, there you have it.