I am writing this from a hotel in Rua, Spain. It’s early, and my roommate has headed out for a cooler spot and the possibility of a cafe con leche. If you have been following my Facebook posts, you have had a glimpse most days, but here are some more:
A woman walking her big smooth skinned gold cow down the road. Woman is dressed in calico, bringing a stick. She waves as we pass…Buen Camino!…
A dog comes bolting from the meadow behind a bar (not a bar like the US, but like a very small cafe with beer or sidra and maybe a few trinkets) where we stopped for our morning drink break. She is a big sturdy golden lab mix, trailing her broken chain, and a tumble of seven puppies, yipping in frantic effort to keep up. Mother trots blithely down the road, dives into the trees surrounding a field, pups hurry to catch up, disappearing one by one.
One morning awakening to a rooster crowing, over and over, then opening the windows to see a vista of mist and ancient buildings and a brand new supermercado and windmills on a hill in the distance. Old and new, ancient and modern, all mixed up.
Walking with women on the Camino, talking, talking, talking. Sorting through the confusion of how to choose a career path with one young woman, talking about work and writing and relationships with others. Walking alone, I listen, too, and meander through the past decade, which has been both tumultuous and incredibly rewarding.
Wandering through the Spanish countryside at the pace of…well, a walker. Slow enough to really see things. The chickens in a yard, sable and shiny and hearty looking. (Now these are free range chickens!) There are forests of deep shade, and fields of peppers and corn and beans. Old dry stone walls, a house overrun with vines, a freshly build hacienda with gigantic fuschia and hydrangea bushes. In the evening, the sun stays up until past ten, and we walked around after dinner last night, letting it paint our skin pink.
Almost to Santiago. We will arrive tomorrow. I will be sad to leave my new friends, but also glad to go home to my beloved CR and Jack.
The girls in the basement are waking up, looking with glee at all the stuff I’ve collected for them. We’ll see what they make of it all.