breakfast in Madrid

1 a. m. in Madrid

dad and I arrived in Madrid about 20 hours after leaving Houston. had a little fun in Heathrow when we discovered that while I was seated in 18A and Dad was in 18B, we were actually booked on different flights from Heathrow to Madrid! So, I got to Spain a few hours before Dad. (He had some adventures of his own when two people on his Madrid flight failed to show up. the airline had to pull their luggage and then, when their travel companions who HAD shown up decided not go without the missing pair, there was another round of baggage pulling with the added fun of a on board search of the area where the second pair had been seated. All for safety's sake.)

When at last we were both I Madrid we set off for the hostel where we had reservations for the night. After a bit of extra practice carrying our packs back and forth across busy downtown streets, we found the hostel and climbed the stairs to learn that they'd run out of room at that location, and had arranged accommodation for us just "a short five minute walk away" The glance that Dad and I exchanged on hearing this must have spoken volumes because we found ourselves being accompanied by a kind Romanian member of the hostel's staff (See pictures I took of him carrying my pack for me. Dad insisted on carrying his own.)

We got settled in at the new location and went out in search of our first real meal since Fuddrucker's in Houston on Thursday afternoon. Happily, there is a delightful place immediately across the narrow cobblestone street from our hostel. It is a retro-60's-hip vintage spot run by enthusiastic (and talented) young people. We ate delicious bocadillas (sandwiches with ham and egg omlettes as filling) with lovely salads and, my staple sustenance, French fries. There is almost nothing that French fries cannot cure (in my opinion).

Tomorrow (actually, later today) we will catch a train to Pamplona, then a bus to St Jean Pied de Port where our pilgrimage 'officially' will begin.

I've already lost track of what day it is.

So many details are missing here-because I'm typing on an iPhone, and there are limits to the fun when typing with one fingertip.

We are here. We are well. We are having a blast.

It requires more than a day's devotion . . .

In Life Without Principle, Thoreau wrote

"It requires more than a day's devotion to know and to possess the wealth of a day.... Really to see the sun rise or go down every day, so to relate ourselves to a universal fact, would preserve us sane forever."

Today, I'm stepping out the front door and setting my feet on the pilgrim path.  More than a day's devotion.  I'm on my way to Houston to meet up with Dad, then - tomorrow - he and I will fly to Spain.  We will make our way to the start of the Camino by way of Madrid > Pamplona and expect to be walking by Sunday.

Together, we'll see the sun rise and go down every day for 500 miles.

From SFO to Houston, I'm carrying my pack and what I've come to think of as my "civilization bag" (the laptop, cosmetics, 'normal' clothes).  I'll leave the civilization bag in Houston.  Yes.  I see the figurative as well as the practical meaning.

I'm scared.


I turn once again to John O'Donohue:

May my mind come alive today
To the invisible geography 
That invites me to new fronteirs
To break the dead shell of yesterdays
To risk being disturbed and changed.

May I have the courage today
To live the life that I would love,
To postpone my dreams no longer
But do at last what I came here for
And waste my heart on fear no more.

(from, A Morning Offering - from To Bless The Space Between Us)

To Bless The Going Forth

Excerpt from "FOR THE TRAVELLER"

by John O'Donohue - To Bless The Space Between Us (Benedictus in the U.K.)

Every time you leave home,

Another road takes you

Into a world you were never in,

* * *

When you travel,

A new silence

Goes with you,

And if you listen,

You will hear

What your heart would

Love to say.

A journey can become a sacred thing:

Make sure, before you go,

To take the time

To bless your going forth,

To free your heart of ballast

So that the compass of your soul

Might direct you towards

The territories of spirit

Where you will discover

More of your hidden life;

And the urgencies

That deserve to claim you.

May you travel in an awakened way,

Gathered wisely into your inner ground;

That you may not waste the invitations

Which wait along the way to transform you.

May you travel safely, arrive refreshed

And live your time away to its fullest;

Return home, more enriched, and free

To balance the gift of days which call you.

My friend, Annabelle, came over today.  We went down to the beach and she performed a blessing ceremony for my Camino.  I am deeply moved and grateful for her caring and the blessing.

love, Lindaa

 

 

How We Come To Be Walking the Camino: Harold Tells the Story

On February 21, 2012, I went to my home mailbox and was surprised to find a Netflix DVD entitled "The Way" starring Martin Sheen.  I had not heard of the movie nor did I order it.  I read the blurb on the envelope and it appeared to be about hiking. 

Since Linda and I take a hiking vacation every two or three years, I assumed she had the movie sent to me so I called to thank her.  Linda said she had not heard of the movie and did not send it.  So far, I have been unable to get anyone to confess to having sent it. 

I watched the movie and discovered it was about a man walking the Camino de Santiago carrying the ashes of his son who had started his own pilgrimage but died on the first day.  

I had never heard of the Camino de Santiago.  I quickly researched it online.  I then called Linda to tell her to watch this excellent movie and told her what I had discovered about the Camino de Santiago.  I told her that St. James was the patron saint of Spain, that his symbol was the scallop shell, and that all the pilgrims who make the 500 mile pilgrimage carry a scallop shell visible somewhere on their person to indicate that they are pilgrims.


Linda said, "Dad, you do know that in our family coat of arms there are three scallop shells don't you?"  

"No, tell me about them."  
 
Linda said, "During medieval times, three Graham knights made this pilgrimage and that is why the scallop shells were included in our coat of arms."  

"Maybe I should make this pilgrimage," I said.

"Dad, its more than that."  (Linda's husband, Ric, is of Spanish descent.) "Do you know where Ric's family is from?" 

"Not a clue."  

She told me, "From Galicia - where the cathedral that is at the end of the pilgrimage and that holds the relics of St. James is located." 

"Maybe we both need to make this pilgrimage." I answered.

"I think so."

"When do we leave?" I asked.

We each began to try to get into condition to make the pilgrimage.  We leave Houston on September 6, 2012.

A Great Moment Knocks on the Door of Your Heart

In just under two weeks, I walk out the door and begin the jouney on the Camino.  Final preparations are underway.  I'm unpacking and re-packing.  Where possible, I'm exchanging some items for others that weigh less.  I'm walking to test the fit of clothes, boots and pack, and to test the fitness of my body.  

What I can't really test is the fitness of my mind and spirit.  I guess that is what the pilgrimage is for.  

I try to imagine what the next two months will be like, what I will encounter on both the outer and inner paths.  I admit to more than a little trepidation.  I've been turning to favorite authors for what reassurance and encouragement I can find, such as this from John O'Donohue's "To Bless The Space Between Us" ("Benedictus" in the UK):

A GREAT MOMENT KNOCKS ON THE DOOR OF YOUR HEART.

It remains the dream of every life to realize itself, to reach out and lift oneself up to greater heights.  A life that continues to remain on the safe side of its own habits and repetitions, that never engages with risk of its own possibility, remains an unlived life. There is within each heart a hidden voice that calls out for freedom and creativity. We often linger for years in spaces that are too small and shabby for the grandeur of our spirit. Yet experience always remains faithful to us. If lived truthfully and generously, it will always guide us towards the real pastures. 

Training

in training. walking the Pacific Coast Trail. pack weighs 17 lbs. distance today = 6 miles.  (I posted this via my phone because that is what I'll be using during The Walk.)