Fuentes Del Ebro-Zaragoza - Camino Ignaciano 2018

Crazy start :Oct 8, Monday 

I understood that I paid for two nights room and would pay for breakfast this morning. When I went down to the Cafè, the man behind the counter was confused. He called Elena. She questioned if I paid for breakfast with my room. I said “no.” She asked what time I was leaving and said she would tell her family that I could stay in my room until noon. I thanked her for everything. She invited me back.

In San Ramon I was the only woman in the truck stop Hostel. Here, I was the only woman. The difference is that I felt much more safe in San Ramon.

The man in the room next to mine came and went at least 30 times within one hour. I didn’t know what he was doing. I kept hearing his key turn and his door open and close. He was loud and frequently spoke through the walls to men he knew in other rooms. Of course, I had no clue what they were talking about. I think they were speaking French.  I was hoping that he would settle down after he ate some dinner or I was not going to get a wink of sleep.

A couple of the men from the Hostel come to eat at Royo’s, the same place I was eating. They recognized me from when they first arrived and I was sitting out front in the cold breeze and warm sun. Other than the Hostel, the cafe and bar were closed because it was Sunday. The men acknowledged me.  I was grateful that they chose to eat at a separate table. I didn’t want to struggle with French tonight.

I wasn’t even certain what I was going to eat. I ordered it but I wasn’t sure what it would be. I decided not to think about it and be surprised.

I had a salad, no surprise there . It was the grilled sausages that I found interesting. It was a plate of sausage that was sliced in small pieces, much the way I cut pepperoni at an angle, and grilled. They were tasty and filling. I couldn’t finish them. I asked to have them wrapped and I took them for today’s lunch.

Since the breakfast didn’t work out at Elena’s, I decided to eat, rather than carry some of the food I had. For breakfast: yogurt, bread and some of the sausage. It is pretty spicy and burns my tongue. I like it and eat it in small amounts. Perfect and less to carry. This gave me an early start.

I packed and strapped and was out the door. Just as I was asking directions about the bus that I expected to take in a couple of hours, the woman pointed across the street seeing a bus there, and said, “PRONTO.” I took off across the street as others were boarding the bus. I asked the driver and yes, he was going to Zaragoza. I hopped in and paid up. Sitting across from a woman and her mother we attempted a little communication which evolved into several passengers asking questions about the Camino. She helped release myself from the straps of my pack. They looked at my guidebook and shook their heads because it was in English.

I opened the book and showed them the map explaining the difference between Camino de Santiago and Camino Ignaciano. They nodded, understanding.

Then I showed them the map of Zaragoza to Fuentes del Ebro because this was terrain they would know. They enjoyed seeing the route and the elevations for each days walk.

I put the guide away. The woman across from me explained that I should stay on the bus till the end. I assumed that meant the Terminal. However, when she said to get off, the end of the line was NOT at the Terminal as I expected. It was on some street unknown to me. I had no clue where I was. But with all the people and buildings around I didn’t feel nearly as baffled as the day I was put off the bus on the desolate highway. Maybe my trust is getting broken in?

I got off because everyone did. Then I quickly got back on to show the driver my schedule and ask how to get to the Terminal.  He didn’t have a clue how he could respond to me. I could tell he was suggesting another bus.  

I asked how far the Terminal was from here. It always surprises me how people simply assume that where I want to go is too far to walk.  I asked how many kilometers. He hesitated. I pointed in the direction that he did and he nodded.

When I got off the second time, I noticed a sign pointing the way to the Terminal. I quickly entered the info on Google Maps, saw that it was a mere 2 miles and took off attempting to get to the station before the next train to Fraga.

I read the schedule. It said there was a train leaving for Fraga at 11:00. I should just be able to make it. I had about 50 minutes to walk the 2 miles. I would need a few minutes to get my ticket and find the bus.

I put some steam in my step in order to make up for a couple of misguided turns that cost me a couple of minutes. I was gaining on the clock and kept moving.

I began to mistrust the info I had given Google Maps. I stopped to quickly check that I was in fact headed to the Terminal. I was. And I was playing it close.

I was so grateful to all the energies supporting me as I journeyed. At the same time, I knew that I had planned on a later bus. It was okay to arrive later, but I still moved full speed ahead.

I saw a bus approach as I was about to cross the street and it said it was going to the Terminal. I knocked on the bus door. The driver opened it. I got in. I asked if he was going to the Station and he affirmed that he was. Asked if I could get on here. He consented. I paid. Off we went. I didn’t know if this would take more or less time than walking. I only had another 25 minutes or so to walk.

I began to recognize places that I walked passed when first arriving here In Zaragoza.  I knew we were close to the Station and I would have enough time to ask my questions and get to the bus. This unexpected ride gave me an additional 15 minutes.

The information woman was the same one I spoke with when I took the bus to Fuentes del Ebro. At that time, she wrote on the schedule that I should take bus #35 while emphatically saying to take #53.  I got it. Don’t listen to what is said, listen to what isn’t said but meant. I think this applies to many situations in life. Discerning is an acquired skill that I must continually hone. Watch for the energy and emphasis. 

That moment has stayed with me. It struck me as funny, because of how serious and directive she was, however, it had new depth when I phoned a Hostel and couldn’t understand why Victor was having such a difficult time taking my reservation.  I thought, “he is making this so much more difficult than it needs to be.”  

It wasn’t until we said ‘adios’ and discontinued the call with the understanding that I would be there Miércoles, Wednesday, that I realized why he was so confused.  I insisted that I would be there on once de Octubre, the 10th of October. Once is the 11th! Poor Victor. I will be the one red faced when we meet on Wednesday. I hope I have a room.

Back to the Lady in information. She spoke more English today than when we first met. Maybe I passed some kind of unspoken test.  I showed her my schedule and she wagged her head telling me I couldn’t take the bus I rushed here to take.

Just as I was about to refute her I saw the problem, I was looking at the Sabado, Saturday, schedule. Today is Lunes, Monday, and I am back to my original plan: to leave Zaragoza at 14:30,which is 2:30. Arriving in Fraga at 16:20, 4:20. That should give me ample time to find my home for the night. Waiting at the bus station since 10:30 a.m. provided good time to concentrate on writing.

The bus was on time and off we went. My backpack and staff were stored under the bus. I like that practice. I don’t have to sit with them or hold them.

It took a couple of hours to make the drive to Fraga. There are a couple of small towns that I chose not to stop in. This is truly a desert area and very little here.  That part of the Camino is more about the silence of the interior walk and surviving the brutal heat in this desert like land. Not much to do or explore in the towns.

The bus arrived in Fraga and I got out at the town center. I crossed the street to an optical store and talked with the person there asking help in locating the Hostal Oasis on Google Maps. With her help Google finally found it.

She explained that where I was going was 5 minutes by car and nearly 2 hours walking. I told her that was fine and please point me in the correct direction to get started.  

I asked to use her ‘banyo’ but that was more than she was willing to share with this hobo Pilgrim she had just helped She directed me across the street back to the bus station to a public restroom.  

Relieved and excited to test out my foot, I started walking. It was at least 6 miles and I had already walked couple of miles this morning. This would be a good test for my foot.

The walk to the Hostal Oasis was a bit tough for more than one reason. It started out over the bridge across the River Cinco. Then it took me up into the mountain labyrinth through the old houses on the hillside. It was impossible to follow the directions since there were no obvious street signs. It was straight up and I strained a little with the weight of the pack. Remember, I have only been walking in towns not in the hills and mountains. When I reached the top the view was beautiful. 

As difficult as the climb was I was not out of breath. But feeling the strain of the climb and the confusion of having to re-route several times in order to find my way out of the Labyrinthine maze of streets. 

At last I came out of the maze to a paved road that led out of Fraga. Google was very trustworthy once it could direct along definitive roadways.

REFLECTION:

This morning as I traveled to Zaragoza I noticed that gorgeous sky with feathery clouds glimmering the rising sun rays. They were illuminated by the sun so that my eyes could not focus on them. I was blinded by the white light of the sun. I thought of Ari’El’s comments about his Seraphim fiery wings being more than any human could behold. I felt that I was experiencing Ari’El’s presence in a profound extended moment of awareness. 

Tonight as I walk to Hostal Oasis, I am struck once again with the setting sun behind me in radiant splendor through the gentle clouds of evening. Again, too much to gaze into, I asked my camera to capture what it could of this radiant sunset because I always want to remember this closeness of Angels throughout this Camino.

Whenever I think of being afraid, I remember that I am not alone and more has been provided than I could ever dream to request.

********

Walking around one of the roundabouts I see a Civil Guard car parked in a remote spot.  The two police men were outside the car getting their protective vests on as they stood there talking and pointing to the thick brush that I have been passing along this road. They watch me approach, there is no one else around. I ask what they are looking for in the brush. I don’t know if they don’t understand my question or if they don’t want to answer me. It is obvious that something is going on. The taller of the two asks where I am from. The shorter one understands my response and explains. The taller explains that I am a long way from home. I whip out my Camino guidebook and show them the map of what I am doing. They asked, “sola?” I affirm. They smile and being aware that I do not yet have a home for the evening while the sun is setting, I need to move on. 

Since I didn’t get arrested or put into the Civil Guard for vagrancy or illegally walking on the highway, I waved ‘Adios’ and stepped onward.

I see a couple of buildings. The highway sign indicates km 442 which I know is the exit for my home.  I arrive for the evening, just as my phone is ready to say enough for this day. I turn it off and arrive safely.

Outside on the steps there is a man standing who greets me with English. Michael is a cyclist from the UK. So wonderful to hear a familiar tongue.  He sees that I am relieved to arrive and tired. He suggests that we meet for dinner near 9:00 which is normal for here.  I consent and go inside with him to be greeted by name, as Elizabeth remembers my call.  She is a young woman who has worked here a short time and is not so sure she wants this job. All depends on whether or not they pay her enough on November 1st. 

She gets me checked in, assigns me a room and all is well. I have a little over an hour to shower and freshen up before dinner.

I hear a cock crow. It is a strange time of day for a cock to crow.  As I write this page I am sitting outside on the warming sun. It is a little after 11:00 and I hear the cock crow. He must sleep in on Monday.

Michael is a retired teacher/ administrator. He has a wife who is a nurse and couldn’t get the time off to join him. He is the very proud grandfather of six little ones. All three of his daughters were pregnant at the same time. The first baby born will be one year in early December.  His smile is huge when he speaks of the little ones. One daughter lives in Barcelona married to a Catalan man. One is in New Zealand where he lived for a while.

Every person’s story is rich and meaningful. Again the words are the least important message in the story of one’s life. Watching his face, his eyes, his glee. Hearing about how the wind was at his back all day making it an effortless journey. Feeling the wind at my back as he described his experience with joyful exuberance.

We shared a bottle of Tinto. Red wine. I had salad and calamari, ending with vanilla crème. Very nice. 

He has been cycling for 4 days. It amazes me how many miles he has done in those days. He will leave early. Tomorrow he plans to get all the way from Fraga to Manresa. I will wake when I awake. A day for writing and planning.

I will attempt the stage from Fraga to Lleida. The guidebook says 33km. I am already on the way since I walked to Hostal Oasis. Google says 20km from Iasis if I follow the highway. There are a couple of small towns on the way if I must stop. I plan to arrive in Lleida in the afternoon concluding about a five or six hour walk. I have the choice of walking near the highway or following Rio Segre where the swans and storks come to greet Pilgrims. I am carrying bread for a reciprocal greeting.

Algára to Tudela - Camino Ignaciano 2018

On my way out of Algara I visited the church of Immaculate Conception which I found to be under massive reconstruction. I walked in quietly, spotted three workmen in hard hats to my left. They were quite busy studying plans of the work going on. No one saw me. I walked a little further in and snapped a couple of pictures. Then I turned to leave and noticed a sign posted on the door in bright handwritten red letters. I think it said something like, “Stay out of here!” 

I didn’t take time to use Google Translate. 

Continuing my meandering walk toward the train station, next stop, Tuleda. I spotted some interesting pastry. A flat thin crust about 6-7 inches covered with slivered almonds.  I really did try to pass by. Somehow I ended up in the shop asking about the almond delicacy in the window. 

The young man asked if that was all I wanted. I told him I would like one of everything but couldn’t carry it with me.  He unceremoniously jammed one of the almond pastries in a paper bag. 

We chatted a little bit. I thought his price for the morsel was quite a lot compared to other purchases along the way. About three times what I expected to pay. I did not question or challenge him. I talked with him becoming a person and not just a backpack wandering through his city. 

I watched the change in his face as he shared about himself and things that are important to him. As I was leaving, he called to me to wait. 

I think his over pricing was tugging at him. 

He took a bag with at least a dozen freshly baked muffins from the shelf and handed them to me. “A present,” he said, proudly. “A present.” 

He smiled and all was well in both of our worlds -as they touched. 

To the Estación de Tren. As is my pattern I arrived early- never know who is there waiting.......

I sat by myself on a concrete step that was warmed by the sun. A young woman came to sit near me to share the warmth. We attempted some conversation. 

Eva is a student. Her parents helped her to get established here for school. I could feel, mixed with her excitement about school, a tinge of homesickness. First time she had ever been separated from her family. She was the first of the children to leave home.  The heart message I heard: this was very hard! 

We talked about family we laughed as we shared stories. Then I remembered the dozen muffins that I had separated into two bags in the right and left pockets of my jacket.  She was going to visit friends. Maybe she would like to bring some muffins.

I offered one bag of six to her. At first she was shy about taking them. Then I showed her the other bag and told her the story about how I got them. I assured her that I would like to share them. She said, “I didn’t eat any breakfast and I am hungry."  So much for her friends. 

Thank you Spirit of the Camino, for knowing needs before I do. Thank you for a heart hungry longing for the nurturing of motherly love. 

Thank you for the guilt of a boy who made this sharing possible.

Thank you for my weakness for almond pastry that drew me into the shop. 

Thank for a church under construction, reminding me that every one of us, at some time in our life, wears a sign that says, “keep out! don’t enter.”  All the while hoping that some one can’t read the sign. 

Buen Camino!

Morning in Alfaro; Thoughts to Ponder - Camino Ignaciano 2018

Morning in Alfaro. Camino stirs thoughts and provides the time to ponder them.

Part one:

I ate breakfast and went to my room to attempt calling Jessie, since I had a phone available to make international calls.

It was about 9:00 am and I knew it would be 2 or 3 in the morning at home. But I thought that it was more important to make the call and hear Jessie’s voice and let her hear mine.

Good call. It went through and I was right. She was excited and surprised to hear my voice. We talked for about 15 minutes, maybe more.

It is always a blessing to be a blessing and to receive a blessing. To hear the joy and excitement in her voice. To let her know she is being thought about every day. To know that a Mother’s love can be found in ways and in persons that are not one’s birth mother. We all need to know and feel and experience Mother Love no matter how old we are.

An important aspect of this Camino is to release my Mom so that I can have her. I have never dreamt of my Mom.  During my first week in Spain, I dreamt of Mom and Dad twice. Significant and important to be in right relationship with my Ancestors.

As a ‘Grandmother’ I miss my Mother’s love and acceptance of who I am. I still long for her to be present when I am doing something significant in my life. I want her with me as I always have. Truth is, I miss her and love her in very deep ways. In this, I am childlike.

I am so fortunate to have profound memories of our lives together. Dumbo ears, ski jump nose, pastel clothes that always match, classy dresser, aristocratic taste, a flirt with the young men, whimsical smile, oxygen and wheel chair, our final cruise, gone in an instant, buried with her car, dressed her one last time.

My best friend, dinner partner, wine drinking buddy. Most even tempered peacekeeper, family glue, open-hearted, generous, beautiful smile.

I miss you.

**********

Part Two:

This morning before I leave Alfaro, I want to see if the Cathedral of San Miguel is opened. I checked out of my room, with backpack in tow, head toward the Cathedral that was locked last evening. I crossed the street and made the yield to the right when a woman approached like we were old friends. With a big warm energetic smile she tilted her head to one side.  Talking rapidly in Spanish and then pulling a brochure out of her purse, it dawned! She was one of the ladies that herded me to Our Lady of Burgos last evening.

She must have been waiting for me to appear from my Hotel. Last night they asked if I was staying at the Albergue and I explained that I was at the Hotel Palacio. The brochure she produced from her purse is from San Miguel.

I get it. She was waiting for me. She is my self-appointed tour guide for the morning.

She is so pleasant, excited and proud to be showing me something that is important and essential for her life.

I ask her name and she offers a nick name that is a shortened version of her name, Maria Dolorosa. I love the way her name rolls off my tongue. She takes me to each of the side altars in San Miguel. She steps into each of the altar coves in order to trigger the lights in each separate space.

When we get to the Baptistry she explains that this is where she was baptized.

I ceremoniously take her picture next to the Baptismal Font. She beams. She is part of the history of this sacred place. It is part of her sacred story. She is grounded and rooted in this space.

I wonder what it takes to know one’s sacred story. Do I take the time to re-member the parts, the chapters of my own story. What difference does it make in my life to know where and how and in whom I am grounded. It may very well be an incredibly important missing piece of my story and many others.

Have I been so caught up in who I believe I am called to be that I have missed who I am? How are those two ideas similar or different?

Is this the kind of thinking that Sts. Francis and Ignatius plowed through during their conversion experiences?

Earlier in the Camino I realized that it is past time to give up my struggle. I created it. It no longer serves. Let it go.

Perhaps the next step, after letting go of the struggle by which I have defined myself, is to examine my grounding. Where and how am I connected to sacred space? What are my sacred connections? How do I nurture holy relationships? What more or what different do I need to look at for my own sacredness to manifest for personal enrichment and for others and for all creation?

I ask these questions of myself because I feel helpless in light of a world being destroyed by greed.

It occurs to me that if each awakened being asks these questions we might find a way to come together in a common sacred power.

Something clicks. Mother Teresa has said it so simply,

“Not all of us can do great things but we can do small things with great love.”

Don’t wait for the great things. Waiting for the great things, sounds like a misuse of my power.

Do the small things and remember the GREAT LOVE!

Now that’s POWER.

The Doctor, the Church, and the Waiter - Camino Ignaciano 2018

As you’ve probably realized, if you’re following this blog, I journal the following day a summary of the previous day. 

Yesterday after THOMAS and I parted ways, I walked to the Centro Salud, the Health Center, where I was hoping to get my foot checked and get medical clearance for walking the Camino terrain. 

After walking more than a mile to get there, I hope you’re getting the irony of all of this, I was refused care because of my USA insurance card- or something like that. I was told to go to a different center called AMEC. Again this was a good walk, perhaps a mile.  Of course, I am carrying my backpack and everything that I have with me. So far, my foot isn’t complaining. 

I get to where AMEC is supposed to be and can’t find it. I step into the Farmacia and ask. The pharmacist steps out front of the building and points across the street to what looks like a huge apartment complex. I walk over and find the hidden entrance. 

The receptionist asks for my insurance card and explains that I need to be seen at Centro Salud. 

Are you getting the picture? 

No one wants to deal with an American Insurance. Before leaving home I verified that all would be well. I guess I should have asked the Spanish medical system, not Anthem. 

I explain that Centro Salud sent me here. The woman was perplexed and I knew I had to find a way to get past her if I was going to see a doctor. One of the waiting patients understood what was going on and was able to help with some English. 

I asked what it would cost to see the doctor and was given a sliding scale that I could live with. 

When the receptionist understood that I would pay and she could give me a receipt to submit to my insurance, she was at least willing to approach the doctor about the situation. 

He came out to meet me and the three of us went the length of the hallway to his office and examining room. The receptionist was helping him to get rid of me with the looming language excuse. I didn’t understand a word, but the body language of both heads bent and wagging back and forth was all I needed to understand. 

ENTER GOOGLE TRANSLATE!

I smiled calmly as I pulled out my iPhone, much like a cowboy from an old western movie who was quick on the draw. Left handed, of course. These Cargo pants pockets make great holsters. 

Quickly, but calmly, I set Google Translate into motion. When the doctor read a message that he could understand, I switched to Spanish and offered him the phone to respond to my request to see me. He agreed and off we went, the receptionist trekking back to her post, Doc and I becoming friends without barriers of language, insurance or receptionist. 

When we do all we can to eliminate the imagined walls that isolate us, we can build relationships and friendships. 

BTW the doctor ‘s name is Santiago. I wonder if his middle name is Ignatius?

He checked my foot and listened to my concerns about the unpleasant side effects of the antibiotics that I was experiencing. He understood immediately and offered advise and medication to help. 

When we came out of his office smiling and laughing with his hand resting gently on my back, the receptionist just stood and watched. 

I approached the counter wearing my warm inclusive smile and asked what I owed. No credit cards accepted. I think they have a real trust issue with people who do not speak their language. 

Some thing I have noticed throughout my travels in Spain, there is a strong regional loyalty that is defined and limited by language.  The two that stand out from my narrow experience are Catalan and Basque. 

She gave me the amount of 50€. I produced the cash and requested a receipt on letterhead for my insurance company. She easily understood my request and busied herself with providing the receipt. 

Just then, Dr Santiago came down the hall toward me to gather his next patient. I lifted my phone and quickly snapped a candid shot of him, exclaiming, “Perfecto!” 

Now she was all smiles and the entire waiting room transformed as Dr. Santiago turned beet red. It was a fun-filled joyous moment with lots of healing laughter. 

No barriers, no differences, only the bond among people that shared joy provides. This is a very special Camino. 

The good news is that all that walking to and from medical centers brought me quite close to the Estacion Tren Calahorra. 

I walked passed the station to the Main Street since I had some time before the train was due to arrive. I stopped at Cafè for a cafè con leche.  Actually I wanted a comfortable place to rest my backpack and alone time to write. 

Workmen were painting and talking around me but that didn’t bother me.  When I write I enter into a different time and space. I am able to tune everything else out. 

I left a little coffee in my “grande” glass, yep, you heard right. When I order a large coffee it comes in a drinking glass. Like a squatty tumbler. As long as there was something in my glass I felt I could take up space there. No one else was in the place. I don’t think they minded me hanging out in the midst of their remodeling. 

It was beautiful outside. I consumed my last swallow, packed my gear and strapped it on, heading to the parking area of the train station. 

I found a concrete platform on one side of the lot. I couldn’t figure out what purpose it served. There were some yellow wild flowers around it. I hooked up the Music of the Plants machine and listened to the song of the yellow wild flowers. 

As it was close to the time the train would be there, I went in to secure a ticket. A young man jumped to my rescue asking all of my questions and translating the replies. He made everything so simple. 

Secured my ticket. Went outside to wait. The young man came out. We talked until he was surprised by a friend’s unexpected arrival. I left them to their catching up. 

Headed to Alfaro . Only two stops and I am off. Doesn’t pay to remove my backpack. I get off the train and head to the road that looks like it will go into the town. I am greeted by a beautiful rose garden, mostly yellow and red. 

Going up the road to the town. Getting pretty good with Google Maps guiding my steps. I easily found the Hotel Palacios. Once I settled in, I walked around town looking for interesting and meaningful sites. 

I found the main attraction, the Cathedral of San Miguel. It was not opened in the evening. It is now a museum more than a place of prayer. 

I saw a group of three older ladies on the street and asked where Mass would be celebrated tonight. After a short pause, they all started talking at the same time, they encircled me, seems to be the pattern here, and led me away from San Miguel, indicating with very definitive gestures and turning of imaginary keys that San Miguel was locked up and there was no Mass. 

I was then herded through narrow streets to another church that I never would have found. Our Lady of Burgos is a smaller church and obviously the active parish in the town. 

They took me in and showed me around. Each explained in detail the statues and altars. The most important they made very evident. It was an altar dedicated to Our Lady of Burgos. The small enclosed statue was backdropped with bright strings of intense white LED lights. A simple neighborhood church. 

After conferring with one another, they ushered me outside and rang a doorbell. Before the bell could sound a couple of men came from the door next to the one being rung. There was a flash of words and excitement as they explained to the two men their tale of finding this Pilgrim who wanted to attend Mass. 

The short hefty man sat at the small desk in the tiny room and searched for English words so that he could talk to me. Frustrated with his limited English, he helped me understand that the Camino Ignaciano passed the church's other door in the back. He was very proud of that. 

He pulled out his stamp and offered to authorize my credentiale with pride. 

Yes! Of course. 

We left the room and I wasn’t certain if I had met the priest or the person from the church that has the stamping duty for the month. I’m serious. 

I said goodbye to the ladies and went into the church an hour before Mass to have some quiet for prayer and meditative journaling. I hid in an out of the way place so no one would see me. 

It is their custom to say the Rosary prior to Mass. one of the church women led the prayers. 

They are so proud to do these things. I think having a foreign visiting Pilgrim is also the talk of the town for a while. There are very few Pilgrims on this part of the Way. 

At the time Mass was to start, the same short hefty man made his obvious entrance up the side aisle to the sacristy. In a moment he was vested and singing as he approached the altar. 

Before Mass started, I snapped a quick photo of him to assist my memory of this night. 

After Mass I went back to my room. I walked passed a Bull Ring. It tore at my heart. I can’t stand the thought of killing a beautiful beast in this way of pain with no opportunity for him to win the so-called contest. 

As night was embracing, I looked out my window to see that the bull-ring was directly across from where I was staying. 

I tried unsuccessfully to call Jessie from the room phone. I was disappointed that I couldn’t get the call to go through. 

I went down to dinner around 9:00 pm. I attempted to translate and interpret the menu with Google Translate Camera feature. Not a good idea. The young man who was to serve dinner laughed and suggested that I trust him to help me instead of Google. Interesting lesson, isn’t it? How do we discern which voice to follow? Especially when a voice can be so instructive and helpful in one situation and totally debilitating in another. A deep lesson in discernment. Listening to the waiter was definitely the correct move. Had a meal of salad, tender beef chunks in a rich tomato based sauce, a piece of melon for dessert- so sweet!  And a decaf coffee. 

To bed.

Leaving Calahorra - Camino Ignaciano 2018

The days are so full. How will I ever have time to walk?

Yesterday I stayed at the Albergue San Francisco in Calahorra. Another Pilgrim arrived in the afternoon. I asked his help to open my stuck window.  He is a tall nice looking man from Germany walking the Camino Ebro to Santiago. He began in Barcelona and shared his experience at Montserrat which deeply affected him. His name is Thomas.

After fixing my window he asked if I would join him for dinner later. Now he was going shopping for tomorrow’s food.

I had just returned from a long walk to the train station. Here is what happened.

I was walking to the Plaza Rosas to visit the Turismo Office before they closed at 1:30. It was 12:45. I met a man, Asan, walking and asked about the location of the Plaza Rosas, where the Turismo Office is located. 

I made the mistake of asking too many questions and confusing him.  Since he understood my request about the Plaza, I thought he would understand my question about the train station.

I merely asked how far it was because I would be going there tomorrow. He directed me to follow him as I walked dutifully behind him. I thought we were still headed to the Plaza Rosas. Wrong! He kept glancing behind to be sure that I was following.

I became concerned because of the many streets we took. He indicated that it wasn’t much further. Just so many meters. I didn’t hear kilometers so I thought all was well.  Remember, I am on doctor‘s orders to limit my walking. Asan dutifully took me all the way to the train station, one day early.

He was disappointed that it was closed until 14:00 which is the norm here.  I would be leaving on the train mañana at 14:47. Oh well.

One of the agents saw me standing there and was kind enough to step outside. Asan walked off leaving me there to figure out how to get back to the Albergue. No clue!

I inquired about tomorrow's schedule to confirm the time I needed to be there. All good, I have the correct time.

I Ching predicted this would be a journey requiring patience and perseverance. 

On the way back I came across a small park where I sat in the sun and ate my lunch of sardines and stale bread.  It was so nice there. I stayed for three hours plus writing, with my foot elevated asking it for abuse forgiveness until the wind blew cold.

I went back to the Albergue with no specific plans. I checked at Iglesia Santiago for the Mass time for later that evening. A young woman counted on her fingers until I understood what she was saying ‘diecinueve años treinta.’ 19:30 which is 7:30 by my watch. In Spanish every vowel is pronounced. Saying nineteen is a mouthful.

When I finally understood, her face lit up with achievement, success and a cheer! It’s wonderful to bring such simple joy into another’s life.

I went to my room with the intention to rest my foot after this fiasco of at least four or five miles.  That is when I heard another door unlock. I opened my door to find Thomas standing there going into his room.

As agreed, we met for dinner at 7:00. I spent a couple of hours resting my foot while charging my phone and loading photos onto Dropbox for Vicki.

At 7:00 I opened my door and Thomas opened his door and we went to find a place to eat.

Dinner is never served before 8:00. We were hunting “pinchos “ which are like tapas: small individual servings of different foods. I like this option because I consume only the amount of food that I want and I am able to try more things and I don’t have to eat French fries with every meal and......

We had a beautiful evening. It was as if we had known each other for a long time. Very comfortable and easy. His English was quite good and we only had to look up a few words.

He has a good facility with his smart phone and he showed me many things, helping me locate some things.

He encouraged me to get to the hospital and get off the meds so that I can enjoy a glass of wine and begin walking. He said that the way he had come, which is the way that I will be going is quite level. No more big mountains.

He saw that I drank only water and introduced me to nonalcoholic beer which was a nice change and quite good with the food. I had a mushroom Pincho and a tuna steak Pincho. I also shared his green olives that were stuffed with anchovies. Very nice.

After eating we strolled back toward the Albergue and went around back to an historic area and a Monastery that was tucked into the hillside.

It was a beautiful evening. The air was pleasant with a slight breeze. We shared a couple of selfies at the Don Quixote brass statues.  He told me that in the Province of La Mancha, south of Madrid there is a Don Quixote Camino that I must do. Sounds like fun to me.

Back at our rooms I offered him some nuts for his journey and he offered me some fresh figs that he picked on his way here. Camino Amigos share simple things as great treasure.

We agreed to meet for breakfast before going our opposite directions. His sister will join him in a week. She is a professional woman and he has visions of her arriving in high heels pulling a suitcase on wheels. 

In the morning he knocked as agreed to let me know he was ready to go. He greeted me with a large bottle of lemon flavored water to take with me. I filled my two smaller bottles and left the rest. 

We enjoyed a breakfast of coffee and pastries. I decided to try something that I haven’t tried before. It was a wonderful apple custard tart. He had my favorite pastry filled with chocolate. He insisted that I have some. He is so generous cutting more than half from the center-the best part. I refused it and had just a little taste

We took to the streets. He started toward Logroño and I started toward the Centre Salud—- the Health Center to get my foot looked at.

We both thought it would be nice to be going the same direction. Life!

Ignatius of Loyola - Camino Ignaciano 2018

In 1522 Ignatius of Loyola travelled on foot from his home in Loyola, in the Basque region of NE Spain, to Montserrat and Manresa in the mountains north of Barcelona. This pilgrimage changed his life.

His subsequent undertakings changed the world.  He was the founder of the Jesuit community of priests.  

The Ignatian Camino running around 430 miles across north eastern Spain crosses mountain passes, traverses forests, deserts, orchards, vineyards, and visits towns and cities.  It can also be a deeply spiritual journey of stillness, solitude and reflection which is my motivation for being here. 

For me a pilgrimage has a solitary quality to it.  

At home I am often working or being with others, whether in the flesh or virtually.  This is good and an important dynamic for Community building and I need to balance that dynamic of my life with solitude.  

While walking the Camino, I limit technology, to be freely disconnected from distraction and deeply connected with Creation, Spirit and Soul.  My phone is with me for necessity only  (I wonder what Ignatius would say).  

The route is one that Ignatius is believed to have traveled. There is evidence of his presence and numerous legends about him staying in the towns along the way.

Ignatius, 1491-1556, modeled his life on that of Saint Francis of Assisi, died 1226.  

The similarities in the two lives and the teachings that they each passed on is apparent in reading and practice.  
I  don’t know much about Saint Ignatius.  I will learn about him as I practice the 30 day spiritual exercises.  Walking for 30 days allows me to ponder one of his exercises each day.  I think by the end of this time I may have learned a few things.

An aspect of my spiritual practice is to learn about and learn from our Ancestors. There are so many who have gone before us whose lives teach us in profound ways.  

One day, you and I will be the Ancestors others look to.  My prayer is that we leave an empowering wisdom that blesses and encourages Compassionate Community.  Creation Spirituality nourishes this way of being.  

Buen Camino!
Wishing you well on you life’s journey.   

Alcanadre and Casa Azul ~ Camino Ignaciano 2018

At the Estation de Tren I met a couple who were finishing up their Camino walk and taking the train to Barcelona to meet up with old friends they hadn’t seen in twenty years. 

Michael came to sit with me where my phone was charging. He had lived in Spain and knew the language.  His wife, Sybila, was checking emails. He was most helpful. He went with me to the ticket counter to check that I had the correct ticket, the time of departure and the platform number.  We joined his wife and chatted. She gave me some protective material for my foot. We talked about many things. 

About 30 minutes before my train was scheduled to leave, Michael suggested I go out into the waiting area. The door was not open yet for passengers to go to the platform.  I met a couple who was also waiting and of course we chatted. 

I heard the loud speaker announce something in Spanish and I looked up to check the electronic schedule.  There was Michael. Walking with intention and directing me to head for the platform. So many angels looking out for me even when I am not aware. 

I got to the train with several minutes to spare. I am told by a passenger to get off at the second stop, about twenty minutes. Alcanadre. 

***

This sleepy village is not so sleepy. The people here are different from others that I have met along the Way. Yesterday I got off the train and looked around for some hint of which way to go. Google was not helping me because I don’t know how to speak ‘Google’ yet!

I seem to have a pet fly. No matter where I go there is always ONE fly keeping my attention. 

I saw a man on a small tractor waiting at the RR Crossing not able to pass until another train came through. I asked him where is Casa Azul ? He pointed up the hill with many words and gestures. 

I started walking to the road that goes up into the town. Two boys about 9 years old and a girl about 12 arrived to see me. They asked if I came from the train. Spanish of course. But I figured it out readily. I nodded yes-the tren. I asked where is Casa Azul. The littlest was the leader of this threesome. He jumped up and pointed up the hill with many gestures. The road split there. So with the words and my own gestures I asked, “This way? Or This way?” He came further into the street and emphatically said, “This way” indicating to the left with his right arm and a full arm motion that said to go all the way on that street. 

I said, “nombre, Carolina “ pointing to myself. 

I pointed to him asking, “nombre?” His face darkened into a frown, his eyes mistrusting. 

I asked the other two. The youngest began to offer his name and a name for each of his companions. I smiled knowing that he was offering fake names when I saw their smiles. The young girl decided this was enough and indicated to the boys to move on and they left me. 

I started up the hill with backpack, fannypack and walking stick. It was 2:30 and the sun was very hot. I looped my jacket into the strap of my backpack and wished I could remove my long sleeve shirt, but that would mean removing the backpack and reorganizing. I decided the long sleeves were sun protection. No problem. 

Walking now between the old buildings I saw a young couple emerge who walked me to a place where they said I should go in.  It was not a place to stay. It was a bar. I was a bit confused and thought they must have misunderstood me. 

Following their direction, I moved through a group of men some seated at a simple table and others standing around, all watching me. I stepped through a screen of plastic strips that served as a door, to be met by a man and woman working inside the Bar/Cafe smiling and saying my name, Carolina. Again I knew I was home for one more night. 

The people here tend to speak louder than I have experienced. Not just louder, but with a kind of insistence to be heard and understood. 

Asun y Ramon are the landlords of Casa Azul which is on the next street over from Bar Union. It is the only place to stay in this small Village Of around 700 people. Of course, if you are visiting, they are proud and happy and you become the talk of the town. 

They don’t speak English and to help me understand Spanish, they say the same thing louder and then louder. 

The patrons at the bar tend to be louder than I am used to. 

This Village was cordial but not nearly as friendly as most small villages that I have visited on the journey. I felt a bit of mistrust from the first little boy I met near the train tracks to the a older folks who simply watched me wherever I walked. 

It was the first time that upon my request, I was not shown the inside of the church. They said in a couple of days. I let them know I would be leaving mañana and they shook their heads. 

I walked back toward the Bar Union. I sat on a bench writing my journal until I thought it was time to go to the Bar for dinner. 

When I went to Asun to ask about dinner she became flustered. After much explaining, I realized that I had misunderstood her earlier. I thought she indicated that I must eat before 8:00. What she told me is that dinner is at 8:00. Now she was flustered thinking that I would want food now when she is busy tending the bar and other things. 

When I realized the misunderstanding, I told her it was fine and I would come back at “ocho". She seemed disturbed that she disappointed me. Actually “ocho” was better for me. I am getting used to this late meal schedule. 

I went to my room at Casa Azul to wait for a coupe of hours. I had done laundry by hand when I first arrived to give the clothes as much time as possible to dry for the next day.  I checked to see how they were doing and was pleased knowing that they would easily be dry by morning. 

I wrote for a while and completed in order to get to the Bar for dinner. 

There was a knock on my door. I thought they might be reminding me to come for dinner. I called out that I was coming. Opening the door I was so wonderfully surprised to see Ursula from Germany standing there. She and Marga had arrived about an hour after I had. Of course, they walked.  I had not seen them since Alda. And it was a wonderful greeting with a warm hug like old friends. 

Ursula and I went to the Bar to find Marga and more hugging all round. 

We shared our meal together. A typical Peregrino fare of frits which are French fries that are served with every Peregrino dinner. Salad of lettuce, sliced tomatoes, tuna fish with olives—watch out for the pits. Chicken, Rosa Tinto, red wine that they enjoyed while I had water due to antibiotics. Finally, there was a choice for dessert. Ursula had a Flan with Carmel sauce. Marga and I had the ice chocolatta that was delicious.  It came on a stick with a thick chocolate coating that put Dove to shame. Actually it seemed that it was way too good to be on a stick!

We finished around 9:30, walked back to Casa Azul for sleep. I did not have a blanket. Ursula checked my armoire to be certain that I didn’t have one. She shared one from their room. I was very grateful. This is the first night I slept with the windows closed tight and the blanket was necessary to be warm even with my red sweatshirt over my nightgown. 

Mañana Cahalorra!

Buen Camino!