Burt is My Muse

Where were we?

2011-12-08T16:49:00.000-08:00

Hmmmm....it was some time in 2009, and here it is the end of 2011.

Well, nevermind, it probably wasn't important at all.

In other news, after a long absence from this particular forum, I am looking to recommit to at least some form of maintenance on this blog while my new website is under construction (it's been that way for a couple of years, but now I actually have someone working on it!).

We'll keep this post short and sweet and give you a brief summary of the goings on.

I am:

Living out in Clackamas County, Oregon and loving the peace and quiet.

Working as a Feature Editor for Spot Magazine, where I've been writing for the past year.

Volunteering for the animal rescue group Fences For Fido by helping with builds and writing their bi-monthly newsletter.

Taking horseback riding lessons, and enjoying that very much.

Taking drum lessons when time affords and also enjoying that.

Happy.

Check back with you soon. Here's a picture of the new digs!

Continuing on....

2009-02-11T16:49:00.000-08:00

When we last spoke, I was telling you about how I cruise the bookshelves at Powell's City of Books and then head down the street to the Central Library to borrow stuff I like instead of purchasing it. It's a great system...saves me a ton of money obviously as well as the shelf space in my room.

I love the Central Library - Portland's got a terrific library system; it seems you can't walk through a neighborhood here in town without running into one of the sixteen libraries that make up the whole. Here's a fun fact for you: Multnomah County Library is the oldest library system west of the Mississippi, first established in 1864. The Central Library, located right downtown, was built in 1913 and is now on the National Register of Historic Places. It underwent a thorough renovation about 60 years ago but still retains that historic, solid feel to it. They don't tell you how many books they have at this one building, but they will tell you there are nearly 900 TONS of them. You can spend some time here, and it's a lot less chaotic than Powells.

I get most of my books from the library, but I also use it to get pretty much all my DVD rentals. They keep their collection up to date, mostly getting new DVD's the same time the video store gets them. You may have to wait a few weeks in the queue for the more popular stuff (new series episodes of TV shows for example) - but they're free. I started borrowing DVD's from the library when I once rented a movie at my local video store and they told me, "Hey, you just rented your 100th movie! I did the math. I figure I save myself about $300-400 a year. It adds up!

So...after burning all kinds of calories at Powells and the library, I decided a Sunday treat was in order. That, for me, is sushi.

When I was in Europe, on top of missing cheeseburgers, I really missed sushi. Now that I'm not making the kind of scratch I was hauling in when I was working at Sisters, I don't get to have it very often...so this was definitely a treat. I like to go to Sushiland ( I really like to go to Yoko's...but they are way out of my budget), where I can get treats off the sushi train for a dollar apiece. I get to spend $10 and no more - I could easily eat $20 worth, so it's good I set myself a little limit.

Fully fueled I started heading back home, back up through the Park Blocks...

The North and South Park blocks are eleven blocks of established green land (established back in the 1850's - even then we were a green city!). Each block features a statue or other artwork - I shoulda shown you the cool elephant down at Burnside and 8th...but that'll have to be another time. Here you see Lincoln, and if you kinda look aways behind him...that's Teddy Roosevelt.

Worked my way down through Pioneer Courthouse Square...here's one of the most photographed statues in Portland. Commonly known as "The Umbrella Man," the actual name of this piece is "Allow Me." You see people taking their pictures with it all the time...and it generally gets adorned with scarves and hats throughout the year.

And made my way back across the bridge and through the neighborhoods towards home.

When I got home, my housemate Joan was there and we decided to make a bunch of juice with all the fruit that Gwen left us.

Gwennie gifts us with lots of stuff from her job at New Seasons - mostly produce that they can't sell anymore. Joan has a juicer -so we made some killer pear/apple/ginger juice. And a carrot juice - my personal fave. Here's me....enjoying juice. Yum!

Kitten was sitting outside, wondering what all the commotion was about. But mostly, being a perfect cat...didn't really care all that much.

Kona...being a perfect dog, cared a great deal.

And that...was my Sunday in a nutshell. Thanks for coming along!

Strolling on a Sunday afternoon

2009-02-08T19:25:00.000-08:00

Sorry it's been a little while since I've written - I haven't been feeling well the last week or so and it's been taxing my energy. I've pretty much just been going to work and coming home and crashing - last weekend I moved into the basement TV room and just stayed there. It was fun.

But now I'm back up and about and after a Saturday filled with chore-y things, I was able to take some time today and take a walk into downtown Portland and check out some of my favorite sights. And I thought of you all, I did, and I took some photos.

I know I've mentioned to you all before about how much I appreciate Portland neighborhoods - you never really know what you're going to come across at any given moment. It pays to be vigilant and not just stroll on by.

You could miss this little guy -- we mostly see horses tied up to these - toy horses of course. A few years ago, a local guy started using these old horse post rings to tie up little toy horses as sort of an, I don't know, fun artistic statement. They're all over Portland now and I love coming across them. Someone here decided to expand the genre and include safari animals to the repertoire. Good on them.

Not that we are shirking our duty to represent horses...

Whaddya wanna bet a bunch of young guys live here?

Here's a City Repair Project bench. Every year a group of volunteers, urban planners, designers and architects get together for a ten day symposium to talk about all methods of alternative building in urban settings. They also go out into the streets and do projects such as these:

This sheltered bench, made out of cob, is artsy, fun and place for neighborhood residents to gather. You will find most of these projects in SE Portland right now, but I know they do other projects all over the city. I love coming across these as much as I do those little toy animals!

Eventually, I made it to one of the seven bridges that will bring traffic, foot and otherwise, into Downtown Portland. This is the entrance to the Hawthorne Bridge - the oldest vertical lift bridge in the country. It'll celebrate it's 100th year in 2010. It's also one of our busiest bridges, especially for bicycle commuters. Portland is known for being a bicycle friendly city - but we're proud of the fact that we have more bike commuters than any other city of our size in the U.S. Most of that is due to things like improving and widening sidewalks on bridges to accommodate bikes. The Hawthorne Bridge sees about 5000 cycle commuters daily and another 11,000 or so make it to work using other routes. Pretty nifty factoid - yay us.

Here's that "vertical lift" thing in action. On my way home I just happened to catch it while they were doing a lift drill. The Steel Bridge, three bridges down, opens like this too.

The Morrison Bridge is high enough to accommodate the tall ships that pass through from time to time (particularly for Fleet Week when we get all those Navy Ships in town) - the Burnside Bridge has a pretty long section that will flip up - it's impressive to see - - if you like that sort of thing. Which I do.

Okay, moving on.

I love Powell's. Most book nerds love Powells. Tourists come to Powells. It's the City of Books. 68,000 square feet - four stories, a city block full of books. They have a coffeeshop in here, which is good - you could easily spend the day. I come here a lot to get ideas and then cruise just few blocks south and hit the library where I can usually borrow those books from the good folks there. Smart thinking, eh?

Okay, well I'll have to pick this up tomorrow - it's getting late and my day starts early.......I'll try to finish it up - not leave you hanging at the library - so much more to see........

Settling In

2009-01-25T20:26:00.000-08:00

Wanted to take a few moments to introduce you to my new home. The Big Purple House in Southeast Portland has become my landing pad and I'm so happy to be here. It's lovely isn't it? So Big. So Purple.

Here's the dining and living areas. This house has such sweet and comfortable energy that I really enjoy coming home.

I live here with three other folks (my good friend Joan among them), but I also get to live with two four-legged folks too. Here's Kona.

And look at this black furball - Kitten

So that's all the nice stuff. Now we go upstairs to my room. Prepare yourself.

Told you.

I am so bad at unpacking. It's really just unbearably hard for me. I don't know why, it just is. Well, I do know why. It's because of things like this:

What the hell is that? Exactly. Why do I have it? Why did I pack it to begin with. Why can I not just get rid of it?

It's a candle holder and I can pretty much guarantee you that it hasn't been used in that capacity for YEARS. I'm not kidding. But, I can't get rid of it because I can't just landfill it because it's a scallop shell and I have this...concern, that it's gonna wind up underneath some rotting pile of diapers or buried beneath some rusting piece of metal when it really should be creating sand in the ocean.

I showed it to Joan and she laughed at me!

"Yeah, I see what your problem is now." She said in reference to my difficulty of unpacking. "It's okay to throw that away," she said, backing away slowly before running down the stairs and out of the house. So helpful.

I put it in a box. When I die, someone will find it and just go, "aw...Nik, so...confused."

But, aside from the scallop candle holder I had a multitude of other boxes to contend with...but look! Check it out...it's coming together!

This is my little bookshelf/TV cabinet

And this, of course - the sleeping area. I should've taken these pictures during the daylight hours. This room faces south and gets some really nice light.

And this, of course is my desk. Notice the little black fluffball to the right of my computer. Oh, and that guitar is a loan from Kid Valance. He's got another guitar he's playing with right now and he wanted it to have a home for a little while. It was a very kind gesture - I've been playing with it on and off - it's been around, this guitar.

So, that's the tour for now...I just realized the hour, it's getting late and I need to hit that sleeping area to get ready for work (!!!) tomorrow.

Talk to you all soon.

Working

2009-01-24T14:28:00.000-08:00

Do you realize it's been over 16 months since I've had to sign a time card? It's true, I haven't worked for well over a year - pretty liberating feeling, you should try it some time.

But with that liberating feeling, that freedom, came the sheer terror of getting down to my last couple hundred dollars without any measure of a job in front of me and rent due in two weeks.

Monica down at Sisters landed me one paid gig, helping her run a non-violence training for a church group in Tigard which kept me going and I appreciated (and it was fun). And then, a bit of grace, as most of you know by now came through with this catering/school cook job at Four Seasons Flavor and my bacon was saved.

So I just finished my first week of work, and it was exhausting in that way of having to learn new stuff, new people and a new routine, but it was liberating in its own way to be spending my day earning money instead of spending it.

This gig is good for me. It's steady and the hours suit me. I get up early in the morning and show up by 7am - work my eight hours and head home at 3:00. It's been challenging following recipes again and learning the myriad of procedures that go with this job. We cook for three different schools, two of which are off site so we have to cook everything off, get the numbers right and send everything away in time for lunch two different locations. I haven't gotten it all set in my head yet, so it's a little swirly but I'm sure I'll get it down in time.

This past week I got to make soups, mac and cheese, scalloped potatoes, rice krispie treats (!!), pizza and a couple of side items. I also got to learn how to work the POS system (point of sale). We are in charge of running the meals at the high school which means we lay all the food out and then run the cash register as the kids come through and purchase their meals. And they are quick. They only get 30 minutes for lunch and there are a couple hundred of them so I sweat, it's like locusts running through the cafeteria - we lay out all this food and in a matter of minutes, it's gone. It's impressive.

And the kids are sweet - I just see them all as Jake and Shanes - even though the boys are in their twenties now - they will probably always be youngsters to me. So I see all these young high schoolers and feel quite a lot of affection for them. And I remember what it was like to be 15 - 16 years old. What a trial. They have to work so hard just to present themselves in the world, it's rough, I know.

So - nothing else really to add there. It's a good gig and I'm lucky to have it. Did you know unemployment has hit 10% here in Oregon? I'm one fortunate dude.

New Beginnings

2009-01-20T20:28:00.000-08:00

There aren't many events in this life that we, as a whole, can collectively share. Different from those experiences we can relate with each other as part of the common theme of living (a beloved sports team, Dead concerts, favorite cereal growing up); the things I'm talking about are so affecting that we can sit with a relative stranger and simply ask the question, "Where were you when...?"

Sadly, it seems that so many of these occasions are solemn, or frightening. In my limited days I can go back to the Challenger disaster, Katrina. For some of another generation it would be Pearl Harbor,the bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, the Assasination of JFK and Martin Luther King. And of course, we now have 9-11.

We do have moments of united joy or pure excitement, relief, we do. The end of World War II. The landing of men on the moon. The Berlin Wall coming down.

And now we have this; for one moment in time the world watched as the first African American president was sworn into office. I heard reports of people dancing in Africa, in Indonesia. There were celebrations around the globe. Amazing. There was a report on NPR this afternoon where they played, for about a minute, the lead stories from a dozen different radio stations in all parts of the world. In a dozen different languages, the only two words recognizable were "Barack Obama." What a thing.

Where were you?

I happened to be starting a new job too (the President and I have at least that in common). I watched the festivites from an all-purpose room, really known as the Maverick Room, at Riverdale High School, home of the Mavericks.

I'm working for Four Seasons Flavor Catering Company; where one of their gigs is to provide the lunches for three Portland schools. It's a great job for me, I love cooking and I especially love cooking for kids, so I'm excited about this.

And what a way to start a new gig. Everything was abuzz this morning. The Maverick room is where the kids eat lunch, so it's just off the kitchen. Right around 8:45 the room started filling up with kids and teachers; the projector had been set to fill up the big screen with a live feed from CNN. The kids seemed excited, and not just because they were getting out of class. Some wore Barack Obama T-shirts. Some of the young guys were actually sporting button-down shirts and ties. When the inaugeration started rolling, they were actually rapt; some were taking pictures with their phones, but they were watching. There wasn't even much talking or jostling; and when Diane Feinstein announced the Chief Justice and asked everyone to stand, the kids did so too. Without prompting.

And when Barack Obama was sworn in, and the announcement made they cheered and clapped for a good minute. It was beautiful. And I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.

I know of two people that were in D.C. Both friends from the walk. Antonio was there, who I know from Portland; and Kathleen, the nut, left her home in upstate New York yesterday afternoon and was texting me from the Mall this morning.

There will be all kinds of people who will probably say they were there in D.C. for that event. With over two million people reportedly swelling the city, it's more than likely folks will be stretching the truth in that direction for years.

But I don't know why anyone would need to lie about where they were today. We were all there. I thought of my friends in Germany, the cheesemakers, who I know were thinking of me; my friends in Japan, Australia and Spain. They were there too.

This was a day of bounty and grace because a dream was realized today; and hope has materialized from what had been a great dearth of it.

It is impossible to not be excited at the possibilities of such an accomplishment. And not just for one man, representing a race; but for the representation of accomplishment for a people. All people. It's a bit daunting, and I'm not naive about the truth underneath such pedestals. But today, an incredible aspiration has been realized...and I'm just grateful I was there to see it.

To Grandma's house you go...

2009-01-18T11:21:00.000-08:00

I haven't been writing to y'all.

I haven't been writing to anyone at all.

I've been mostly, since my return from the Bay Area last week, playing an awful lot of Spider Solitaire and staring at the boxes in my new room in the Big Purple House wondering just where in the hell all of this is supposed to go.

There's something to be said for living out of a backpack.

Oh goodness people. Scattered.

Here's some pictures to help break up all the monotony that is sure to be underfoot here shortly. I'll use this blog to take you to my Grandmother's house in San Leandro where I spent New Year's Day.

Here's kind of an "artsy" photograph of Mike and Grandpa, chillin' at the dinner table. Grandpa had grilled to perfection some very nice cuts of meat, which we ate with potatoes and salad. My Uncle Ken was there, along with his wife and my Dad and Liz.

There's my Dad there on the left, Grandma in the foreground, not wanting her picture taken. I'm sorry I didn't get a better picture of Liz in there, whose sort of tucked behind her son Mike.

When the topic of conversation turned to politics I decided to venture into the house. I love making the rounds at Grandma's house, just to see all those familiars. Here's a wall hanging of my Dad and Uncle's little kid hands.

I love coming to this house because it's been virtually unchanged. I've been coming here my entire life. The ornaments change given the season, but everything else, like some of these books that I looked at when I was a child, is the same. At least to me.

The small sitting room where this bookshelf is remains clean and quiet. There is always the softest strain of the classical station playing in here. The music lulling out of an grand stereo cabinet.

I don't remember us hanging out in this room very often; although I do have memories of one Christmas when I had my Walkman - the old school personal cassete players with those orange headphones. My Great-grandmother, Nana Gehl was still with us and I recall putting those headphones on her, letting her listen to whatever it was I was playing on it. Pink Floyd or the Doors maybe. I also had a tape of Beethoven's Emperor Concerto that I was particularly fond of. I remember her being gracious about it all, as she was about everything.

Here's Grandma's kitchen. I can't even begin to imagine how many meals have come out of this efficient little space. My mother always tells me that it was Grandma Jardin who taught her how to cook. I wish I taken a picture of the stove there.

Behind that door there leads the steepest stairs imaginable, taking you down into the cellar. We were rarely allowed down, in fact there was always a child-proof gate that cordoned us off. I know there are canning jars down there, but other than that...it's still kind of a mystery. The fridge, to the right of this photo, always has 7-UP. Always.

My grandfather worked for Pacific Bell, as did my father, so there's all these old phones displayed.

This one is very cool, and very worthy of playing with when we were young.

I wonder if they ever imagined, talking into this contraption, that in fifty years time we would hold our telephones in our pockets and take them with us everywhere.

I wish I had taken more pictures here, but these will have to do for now. It's a lovely, soft house. There is nothing threatening about this place at all, never has been. I'm always reminded of days in the park with Grandma, and those blessed trips to the library she would take us on; where I would come back laden with books to fall asleep to, happy as a clam.

And cookies...we did a good deal of cookie baking.

Hmmmm...okay, I'm really trying to get you guys caught up. Will talk again sooner rather than later.

Sorry about that folks...

2009-01-14T16:43:00.000-08:00

Apparently the fake baby picture has had more than its day in the sun. I have been really remiss about writing since I've been home and haven't even had the gumption to post new pictures, though I have plenty from my Bay Area trip. I'll try to get to that in the next couple of days.

My father pleeeeeeaaaded with me to get something else up here though so he wouldn't have to look at that doll anymore. Done.

Hey, have you guys ever heard of "reborns?" No, not the religious sect. While I was staying with Big G and Michelle we got to watching this program on 20/20 that talked about this craze that is happening right now. There are these very life-like looking babies that people are buying (adults, not children) and treating them like real babies. Think Cabbage Patch, but a lot more creepy on every front.

I'm not even going to get into it 'cause it just makes me sad. Check it out for yourself if you want and Google "reborns." Wacky.

I'll talk to you all soon. Lots to tell.

Ashland to San Rafael - New Year's Eve

2009-01-01T21:03:00.000-08:00

I was telling my friend Bridget over lunch in Ruch that I loved coming to Southern Oregon because I really don't have any bad memories here. I've been visiting Corbin for nearly ten years now, and this area has always been a place of quiet, pleasant visiting for me. I met Bridget a few years ago, and now I get to see her as well which adds to the appeal of coming down here.

And now, if that wasn't pleasant enough, dear Kid Valance lives in Ashland so I get to visit with him as well!

I'll be coming back through the area next week and will get to spend more time with both Bridget and Kid, but probably not Corbs who will have family in town when I blow through in a couple of days. But it was lovely to get to spend the evening with her and take a walk along the tracks behind the house with Sophie - truly the most mellow dog that ever lived.

I stopped by Kid's place for a quick cup of tea before taking off on that impossibly long stretch of I-5 - six and a half hours of straight line driving before I got into San Rafael a couple of hours before the New Year's Eve show at the Civic Center that Jon was putting on.

I stopped by my mom's house first so I could change into a little more appropriate attire and spend a little time with Jake, who is just getting more beautiful every year.

After that brief visit I headed over to the showroom where I met up with Jon. Here he is.

I took this picture of the backstage area, Jon said, "well that'll be an inspiring shot." Yeah, pretty bleak. Backstage areas are never as glamorous as you think they might be, but this one was truly dullsville.

I haven't been to a New Year's Eve show in over 10 years, it may have even been longer than that. The last one that I worked was one that we did at the main stage at the Civic Center, seating a couple thousand people. Paula Poundstone headlined that show and it was quite the fest. From what little I remember of it.

But now I'm a little more clear-headed throughout these events, which is a blessed thing. The show was good - I didn't know three of the acts but the emcee, Michael Meehan is a comic that I've known for over twenty years so it was fun to see him. He also got off one of my favorite lines of the night,

"You know, we try to eat well, try to buy the organic food but it's expensive. I've got a timeshare on a grapefruit down at Whole Foods right now..."

About twenty minutes before midnight my brother Shane showed up. He ended up having to work that night, but was able to make in time for the countdown. Look how cute he is! I can't believe how big these guys are.

After the show Shane and his girlfriend Daphne came over to the office and we all hung out for awhile, sharing stories. It's funny because I'm so much older than these guys there are a lot of tales that Shane hasn't heard before and vice versa.

For instance...

It's no secret in the family that through a set of unfortunate circumstances Shane burned the house down several years ago. It was an accident, no one got hurt and all worked out fine in the end, but, they're telling this story last night and at one point Shane was saying, "yeah, it was craaazy, all this black smoke was pouring out of the garage and all the fire guys were there and we were all just looking at it when the bullets starting going off."

Wait....what?

Apparently, for whatever reason, there was a cache of bullets in the garage. Something Jon had stashed somewhere (just one of those things, he doesn't even own a gun); and the heat from the fire just...set 'em off.

And Jon sort of chuckled and said, "oh right, that. That's probably why the neighbors stopped talking to me."

Ah, memory lane.

Anyway, it was one of those kind of evenings, we all went to bed way too late, but it was nice to ring in the New Year with those guys. Silly guys.

Merry Christmas. Let's make Chili!

2008-12-25T16:19:00.000-08:00

It's been a lovely holiday. I wasn't able to go to the Bay Area, but luckily I have a multitude of friends here to celebrate and be family with.

Yesterday, on Christmas Eve, Joan invited me to a play at the Imago Theatre. As she described it later, "Yeah, it was me, Nik and a bunch of families with their kids."

The show was a matinee performance designed for "ages 3 to 103" and it was really pretty stellar. Called, Biglittlethings, it was five guys dressed up in nifty costumes and using darkness, black light, and fun music to produce a series of vignettes that were lovely and appealing to the eye, and on several occasions made every little kid in the audience giggle away. Even for me, it's tough not to giggle when you've got all these little kids laughing around you.

At one point a couple of the actors, who were dressed up in polar bear costumes, climbed into the audience and were rolling around the seats and on the patrons, it was fun. The kids loved it and so did we.

After a starch and carb overload at the Doug Fir, we power napped and watched Battlestar Galactica before getting invited over to Chris and Christie's for a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit. Made drunk by too many Tollhouse Cookies, the gigglefest continued and a swell time was had by all. Joan proved victorious in the end, coming from way behind to have her "pie populated" by all six colors and emerging as the winner.

Today is another slushy day here in Portland. The sun is actually out after dumping a few more flakes on us as we come out of several days of being snowed in. Gwen is back from her meditation retreat up North and I've been hanging here watching her make her famous Buffalo Chili. It smells really good, and I'm a little sad I won't get to have any as she's making it for a co-worker. Damn. But, I get LOTS of Gwennie's good food so I'm not complaining. It just smells really good.

But, we're all well. I'm happy to be in the cozy house with her and Skid and feeling lucky and grateful to have so many friends and family in the world. And I'm wishing all a blessed New Year with hopes that I'll see them all soon!

Mr. Stealth

2008-12-22T21:13:00.000-08:00

I don't know why this made me laugh...but it did.
It's just over a minute long. Go ahead and push play.

Ninja Cat @ Yahoo! Video

More Snow Pics

2008-12-22T15:11:00.000-08:00

"They" are now saying that Portland hasn't had a snow like this in forty years. Well how about that. I've been kind of sort of stranded. I get out for a walk here and there; I spent a little time shovelling little alleys between the street and the house so we could get through.

Skid didn't know what to think of it all

Gwennie's garden like she's probably never seen it before. She's been out of town for all of this.

My little white truck got a little buried too.

While I was shovelling, Skid became a little more curious about coming and seeing what all the excitement was about.

Eventually he made it all the way out to the garden through the little snow alley. He wasn't too into it, but he ventured.

Fun, fun, fun!

Still snowing, still sitting.

2008-12-22T09:31:00.000-08:00

I can't believe this weather, I've never experienced this in Portland. It's kind of cool, my friend Joan skied up to see me the other day - there are people in snowshoes and studded bike tires and snowmobiles cruising around on the otherwise vacant streets.

It would've been cooler if this happened in a week that I wasn't supposed to take a long drive down I-5 to visit friends and family over the Christmas holiday. I had just missed my window - had my appointment with Sam been cancelled a day earlier I would've gotten out. But, I've said this before, there are reasons for everything. Maybe I was just supposed to hang out here with Skid while Gwen and Ron are out...

so hang out I shall. I'm sorry I'm missing the Xmas crab feed at Grandma's house though.

Here's some photos.

Here's Joan - cruising up on her new cross country skiis.

This is one of the busiest thouroughfares in Portland, Foster Avenue. Not today!

The snow had built up outside gwen's back door. The imprint there is Skid's cat door. Needless to say....

Talk to you soonly!

Skid Show

2008-12-20T19:09:00.000-08:00

I decided to use this snow day to snap up some film of Mr. Skid. So, if you don't like cat pictures.....

Okay, all done for now.

2008-12-20T15:13:00.000-08:00

It's been snowing all day. All day. I was supposed to leave for Ashland this morning, heading through to visit Corbyn and Kid on my way to the Bay Area, but instead I've been watching snow drifts build up around the neighbor's SUV.

It's given me the opportunity to sit, do some writing and reading...and start watching the fourth season of The Wire (one of the best shows written and produced ever).

It's also given me time to settle in a little. I had this day yesterday...one of those days where things just aren't right, a misstep, a hiccup, a schism...call it what you will, it was one of those.

I started my day volunteering down at Sisters of the Road for Customer Appreciation Day - they put me in the dish pit at my request, and I was having a good time, but everything just felt off...it's been over a year since I've been there. I didn't recognize many of the customers, didn't know all the volunteers or even many of the staff; and they didn't know me. It wasn't bad or even awkward, just evidence of time that has passed and a space that's been filled by the void I left. So, uncomfortable would be a better choice of words.

I then headed home to change for my meeting with the Mayor-Elect only to find that that meeting was cancelled due to the storm Portland was expecting to find itself in over the weekend. That was all fine, but my previously jovial conversation with Mr. Adams secretary was cooler, he didn't remember who I was and what I was doing with the Mayor-Elect's time. Why should he? I'm a writer without an assignment or a magazine behind me. I'm still surprised he's granting me this interview at all. I had to remind him of my purpose and he rescheduled the time, letting me know his press secretary will be with him. It was fine, just a little reality check.

After that I read an email from a job I was hoping for, telling me that I didn't get the position. The employer was kind enough to say that he liked my work, "you're a good writer and could be up to the task," he said. But, I was one of 100 applications and someone just beat me. I would've liked the job, it wasn't reporting or article assignments, it was writing copy for a catalogue - nothing to sneeze at. I would've learned how to write tight, descriptive prose quickly and effectively in order to gather someones attention. Necessary tools for anybody wanting to write.

The exciting thing here, I suppose the hopeful thing, is that it opened up a new possibility for me. I never thought about being a copy writer. And at least one employer liked my stuff just a little. Perhaps the next one will like it enough to hire me.

And so...I fussed. The rest of the night. Ate almost an entire pepperoni pizza by myself (gwen's gonna love that). Got some rentals. Laid on the couch. Perhaps not the best of choices - but a choice nonetheless...we'll get 'er back.

It is still snowing. Twelve hours now of steady, windy, flurries. A couple feet of snow has dropped now, my chances of leaving town tomorrow is evaporating. The highways seem clear south of here, but its a mess otherwise. So, I'm staying put for now.

And watch all this amazing weather instead of try to negotiate it.

Anxiety

2008-12-18T16:27:00.000-08:00

So I've been having all these dreams...still. One friend says I'm tuned into all the craziness in the world; another thinks it's more personal, my dreams are related to my apprenhension around my current situation (no job, money running out, etc.)

Could be a good old fashioned combination of both - all I know is I'm getting a little tired (literally) of being chased by guns, maniacs and tsunami style waves on a nightly basis. Not to mention Burt Reynolds. He was in my dream the other night too. He wasn't really doing anything, he was just there. And that, my friends, was frightening in its own right.

I'm not going to sit here and bemoan my fate. I don't even know what's in store - and I know there are people in a lot shakier situations than myself...but I'm having to work on this trust thing more than I'm used to.

I'm a planner. I like making plans. I like the list. And even with all the freefall of the Spain trip, the plan in itself kept me moving and motivated.

Right now I'm in a pretty complete freefall. I know nothing. Well, I know I'm moving into The Big Purple House on January 2nd, and I'm looking forward to that. And I have a couple of gigs with Monica to do non-violence trainings. I have a few articles that are floating around hoping to be picked up. I'm going to a couple of shows. But...I don't have a job and I can't turn on the radio (thank god I don't have a television) without forecasters forecasting doom. I swear, some of them have even taken to chuckling, or talking with a smirk 'cause the economic news just gets worse and worse.

And yet...and yet...there is a weird excitement about it all. I know, it'll be okay. I mean, whatever happens, it'll be okay. And I mean okay in the sense of, I will stay housed and I won't starve, I'm a ways off from that. So, you know, shelter and food are the essentials and those are covered.

I don't know. I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. Just saying hi.

Maybe that's how I'll get to meet Renee...

2008-12-15T11:44:00.000-08:00

“There is dreaming and then there is dreaming”
from The Woman of Wyrrd by Lynn V. Andrews

Yeah, Andrews gets to have all kinds of fun and adventure in her dreams. Meeting elves and fairies, dramatic windblown falconers and billowy women who represent both past and future. I guess I'm just not that advanced.

My dreamworld of late has been filled with apocolyptic visions; mushroom clouds, tsunamis and airplane crashes of which I am close witness to. I have enough time to know what's coming and can work on escape. Once I had a person under my charge to safekeep. Of course, I wake up before any real resolve. Did I perish or was I saved?

Last night I was involved in a trifecta of disturbing scenarios. All touching on my deepest wounds – those things that pain me the most – and while they weren't apocolyptic in the global sense, the emotions the imagery brought rendered me equally helpless.

No one really knows why we dream. There are theories, mostly scientifically physical. There was a great Star Trek episode (Next Generation) wherein the crew was being kept from dreaming through some alien force. They could sleep...but they couldn't dream...so everyone starting having these hallucinations in their waking hours, paranoia and fear were rampant. There, the explanation went, that our psyche needs time to rest itself, play out our fear scenarios in a less tangible form so that we can get about the real business of the day when we're awake.

I'd buy that over simple chemistry.

Then there is the belief that we can break through dimensions in our dreaming and really get to work. If you've ever experienced lucid dreaming, where you can direct your dreams from within them, then you can go with that concept.

I've experience lucid dreaming only a couple of times, both by accident (some people work devotedly to get to that state). But, I am not that evolved a human so I used my lucid dreaming to simply fly around the dreamscape.

It's a rich world out there in outer consciousness and it's probably better not to get too caught up in the whys and why nots of things. But if we really are working through our fears in the dark hours of the night, I know I've got a full cache, so can we just move on?

Portland Snow Day!

2008-12-14T07:17:00.000-08:00

Yay for snow!

It's fun when snow falls here in town because it really only happens once or twice a year. It shuts us down because we little West Coasters don't really know how to deal with it...on the roads anyway.

And the more adventurous of us always head out there thinking we know how to drive on ice and snow. And so you watch the slow, oddly graceful sliding of cars into curbs, into other vehicles, both parked and moving. I watched an accident happen slo-mo right outside of the Firestone today. A guy tried to head out and make a left onto Powell, but he slid into the curb; a woman came along in a big ol SUV and stopped in the middle of the road, causing another guy to careen into her at bumper car speed. He roughed up his taillight and was pissed, but otherwise unscathed.

I watched people wipe out on their bicycles (good for them for trying!), wipe out on their feet. I myself nearly took a little skidder on Powell when my back tires failed to gain traction, but I eased into it and was fine. And then a super nice guy named Mark put my chains on for me and all was swell again.

Which means that I was able to keep my date with Chaela and head down to Goodwill to get me some new threads. I have a great dearth of clothes, very little nice stuff. Chaela is the friend everybody needs to have in this situation in that she picks out great clothes for me and she's fun to be around. She will also say things like,"I'm serious, you need to put that down," when I show her yet another thing I think will look good on me. And, "Yeah, that combination of colors will make you look like Beef and Broccoli, so...no."

On the way home, driving slow as can be, I saw families with toboggans and a guy on skis and little bundles of people smiling and whipping snowballs around at each other. One little girl was rolling up a snowman belly.

And then I got to come to Gwennie's sweet, warm and toasty house and make a wonderful dinner of artichokes (that she picked up for me) and chicken (which she cooked for me). And now I am sitting here, with the wind whipping the flurries around and the heater percolating, and really, there isn't a better place to be on a snow day.

First Ski Day of the Year!

2008-12-13T18:31:00.000-08:00

Beautiful day up on Mt. Hood. The first good snow of the season and it was pure powdery fun. My buds Monica and Debbie were there with me as we scooted around Enid Lake.
It was super cold today, Portland is getting ready to experience quite the cold snap this weekend - it's expected to get down in the teens! We're all a flutter.

We had to put on chains...well, Monica put them on. I kind of helped, but not really. Monica's super tough and endured little pre-frostbite hands in order to keep us safe on the roads.

Happy dogs Lolo and Petey frolicking

Flo is built for swimming in water, not tromping through snow. Her little paws are webbed, which means snow gets all clumped up in there> Here is Monica de-clumping her paws.

A very handsome Petey.

Look at that little snow mound on my head. Nice, very nice.

Is that the same dog?

2008-12-09T07:42:00.000-08:00

So I get a phone call a few days ago from Addie who tells me that she has relocated to Portland! This was the day after Roman called me to let me know that he too had decided to rest in this neck of the woods for awhile.

So last Saturday I went over to NW Portland and picked Miss Addie up and lo and behold there was "lil Booger!" Awwwwwwwwww! He's not so little anymore...not like this...

But now he is a handsome little guy...like this!

We went to Kelly Point Park and he ran and ran and ran. And then was all sleepy in the truck on the way back. Look at his eyes...and there's Addie too!

We went over to where Roman is working and got to chat with him for a bit. I got all warm and fuzzy on my way home that day. Carrie had called me, but I missed talking to her. I talked to Kathleen. I love my walker family so much still...these guys...

Floating

2008-12-03T21:08:00.000-08:00

I'm in a daze. I've been working on a few proposals and queries this week and finding myself frustrated with my inability to come up with good, solid prose for the articles I'm trying to write. I'm working on four different proposals right now and bop back and forth between them, trying to jog something worthy out of my constantly headached brain.
I've been reading a lot as well, so I've got a lot of words jamming up the works.
The headaches are due to my eyesight I'm afraid. Over the last several months my prescription has changed and I need to get into somewhere and get some new specs. I'm fretting over money, but this is probably not a place to skimp. I'm really just procrastinating the inevitable...I need bifocals and I know that, but that just seems to be admitting to an aging process I want to deny. However, I absolutely cannot read anymore with my glasses on, and that is just sad, sad, sad.
Last year when I went to the optometrist to get the perfunctory exam, the doctor told me that bifocals were in order. I told him, "no..I'm not doing that." And he smiled, that doctorly knowing smile and simply asked my age. I told him.
"Well, that's usually the age when it begins."
"Begins what? My RAPID DEMISE?!"
"Yes," he said, "Bifocals is the 'one foot in the grave' step...it's all over from here really."

Dammit. I knew it. I'm aging. @*#($)!

So, I'm sitting in New Seasons, drinking tea and withering into dust as we speak. Sorry Dad, I don't think I'll have time to write that best seller.

Lewis "Mucaw" Jefferson (1987-2008)

2008-11-29T00:46:00.000-08:00

I was deeply saddened tonight to hear that one of our Walker family, Mucaw, crossed over to the Spirit world. I don't know the details of his passing.
I loved hearing Mucaw sing, which he did so often, up at the front of line, his rich, baritone voice keeping time with his tin can shaker. I walked countless miles to the songs of his ancestors,from the Quechan of Arizona, songs that he sang proudly and with the utmost care and respect. Sometimes, when I heard him sing, I couldn't place that deep, soulful voice in the body of such a young man...it just seemed to come from somewhere else.
I pray that he is still singing with his ancestors and offer my prayers to his family and beloved grandparents who were so proud of him.
You will be sorely missed my friend.

Gettin' cold here in these parts

2008-11-24T18:16:00.000-08:00

And I know for my friends on the East Coast, and those folks in Minnesota, complaining about 40 degree weather will just be mocked and scoffed at. But..I'm a West Coaster and dammit, it's getting cold here in these parts!

I'm sitting here in Gwen's cozy house tho, having enjoyed a fabulous pre-Thanksgiving turkey dinner (but mine was with eggs and toast and spinach - the fun trimmings will wait until Thursday). Gwennie will be gone over Thanksgiving, but she felt the need to cook a big 'ol turkey and I got to enjoy the spoils.

Today was my first real "Monday" since I've been home. I got myself up and out of the house early in time for my old home group meeting and then went to a coffeeshop down the street where I worked for about 4 hours, drafting and sending a query letter here, looking for submission placements there. I also started work on a story about my time on the goat farm. My brain has defogged considerably in the last few days and I've enjoyed wrapping my head around something more tangible than whether I'm gonna have eggs and toast or beans and tortillas. Or both. I continued the work later in the day and am dearly looking forward to one of my queries finding interest in an editor's hand.

In other news...

Patrick from the Walk is here in Portland (this guy)

and I had a chance to catch up with him last night - so nice to see him and share stories of what we and everyone else has been doing. He'll be here all week, so I look forward to seeing him again.

Also got to spend time at Lone Fir yesterday - it's so nice to revisit my old comfy places. I have found a new love for Portland and her sweet, goofy tribe of inhabitants.

Yesterday afternoon I was walking down Burnside near the Laurelhurst, and this trio of hipsters were standing on the corner, talking the talk. One of them, a lanky guy in a stripey scarf and pointy wool hat, blurted out suddenly,
"Hey you guys, look at my reflective tape."
And everyone turned (me too, since I was right there) to check out his bike, which had a strip of bright orange tape down the crossbar, but he had meticulously carved out "flames" all the way around it. It was funny, and there was something so sweet about his enthusiasm for his idea and execution, that it just made my afternoon.

So, there you have it.

Hoodies, Beanies and Dreadlocks. So good to be Home!

2008-11-22T19:28:00.000-08:00

I'm sure I don't look as cute as Gwen's cat when I'm sleeping, but that's pretty much what I did for the first few days I was home. I was completely laid out by jet lag for a good 4 days. Brutal.

My friend (and massage therapist) Jenna told me a little story about jet lag that made me smile. She said that we always have a spiritual pony with us when we travel and that if we do something crazy like fly for a bazillion hours across land and sea, the reason we're so tired is because we have to wait for our pony (who can't fly!) to catch up with us. That's a lot of miles for the little pony to travel (and swim!). I feel, now it's been about 10 days since I've been home, that my pony has arrived.

I haven't been doing a whole lot since I've been back. I've had two massages (I know, it's crazy decadent, but I tell you...my body...wracked up. After my first session Jenna said, "great, that's layer one!" I think my poor bones and muscles just haven't really known what to do with themselves now that they're not carrying a load and moving miles everyday. Everything just stopped, so things are kind of shifting and settling, causing me much discomfort and general achy-ness. But it's fine, really.

I went and re-upped my gym membership and have been able to do a few miles on the treadmill. I saw my old trainer Regina who is cutting me no slack and expects to see me back soon for her brutal cycling and cardio classes. I'll need to stay on it, lest all this hard earned muscle starts to slip and slide into pockets I'd rather not see on me.

Money...well, it's running low but I have a lead on a job, so that's good news. And I also have a possibilty, perhaps, of a new housing situation here in a couple of weeks.

So, essentially, we are just putting things back together. It's a little overwhelming, but I'm so happy to be home that it's all just gravy for me. Walking my beloved Portland streets. Going into coffeeshops and making small talk with people...man, I missed that being away. Just chatting with people can make such a difference in your day, I so love having community again.

So...that's about that for now. Oh, I also got my astrological chart read. I do that every year on my birthday with my writer/astrologer friend Emily Trinkaus - who is so good at what she does. I love having her tell the tales of possibilities ahead.

I have mucho ideas for stories and am starting work on those as we speak. Gonna sign myself up for a language workshop, keep myself in the Spanish language realm. Have plans to get down to Southern Oregon and the Bay Area in Mid-December; but until then I am settling into the wintery weather here in Portland and catching up with everyone. It's really nice to be able to the hear the voices of my friends and family again!

Oh, and eating all my favorite foods again has been...wow. You think things like eggs and toast aren't special? They're special..added bonus of spinach and sausage on the side? Yay! Miso soup, pinto beans, granola, burgers...yum.

Okay, I'll talk with you again soon. If you haven't checked this in awhile, you may want to scroll down and check out the new pictures. Also, there is a fun little video of Ellen DeGeneres' goat routine in the October posting. It's only about a minute and a half long.

Great to talk with you from this side of the world! Look at this amazing tree!

Home.

2008-11-12T21:52:00.001-08:00

Just a quick post to let everyone know I made it back to Portland without a hitch.

I was in the air today for nearly 15 hours...three planes, four cities and nary and missed connection or even near freak out.

I did get held up for a second at U.S. Customs in Denver. Those guys are serious man. Serious. I would be nervous to come into the country if I wasn't from here. On the flight they showed us a video of how to properly fill out all the claim forms, even going so far as to remind you that in the United States we do NOT place a little horizontal line across the body of our number seven, so you better not do it on your claim form. DON'T DO IT!

Once I got through the first customs desk I was wandering around, kinda stretching my legs after the 10 hour flight from Frankfurt and waiting for my backpack to come off the carousel. A really, really tall guard came over to me..

"maam, you doing okay? You look a little confused."

"No..no, not confused. Tired from the flight, just...stretching my legs."

"Mmmhmm. After you get your bags, why don't you step on over here to the search area and we can have a look through your belongings."

Lesson #2 - DO NOT WANDER IN THE BAGGAGE CLAIM AREA.. Apparantly, this is a Red Flag, so I suggest simply standing at the unmoving baggage carousel...at attention...and wait passively.

But, all was well since I wasn't smuggling live animals, meat, weapons or anything else considered unsavory. I did have some nice cheese from the farm, which I mentioned and they didn't care about that, so I got to gift that to my cheese freak friend Gwennie. She was really happy about it.

The flight from Frankfurt was actually just fine, even for the length. They have little viewing screens on all the seats now, with dozens of movie and television selections to choose from, so if you didn't want to read...you could while away the time watching all kinds of stuff. I chose Mary Poppins for my first selection, which was fun.

Anyway...it was an incredibly long day, but now I'm here at Gwen's, comfortable and happy and ready to sleep for days.

I'll be putting loads of photos up here in the next days, some I'll probably put in with the stories and others I'll just randomly show you so go ahead and check back here soon.

Lots of love, thanks for comments and I look forward to talking to you all on the phone soonly!

"I crave inerita every move made so I can stop..."

2008-11-11T11:01:00.000-08:00

It feels like I´ve been out here an awfully long time. It´s only been three months, but it just feels longer than that. A lot longer. But I'm coming home now, and happy about that. While you are all tucking into your beds, I will be getting up and getting on an early flight, making my way across the ocean, the continent and into the rainy night of Portland.

I hope it´s been a good trip. I´m still too in it to know. These types of experiences can sometimes only truly be realized later; when we´ve had a chance to live outside of them for awhile and see life, react to it in a different way than we may have before.

We change all the time of course, from year to year. I would´ve been a different person at the end of this year whether I made this journey or not. But I can tell you that this particular time has been beautiful because this trip has challenged me in a way I haven't previously been challenged.

It was the solitude, or rather, the being away from my comforts, my family, my routines, that got me to dig a little deeper and understand what comfort truly means...and how little it depends on anything really tangible. And that my previous understanding of self-reliance has been shattered and has come to mean relying less on my own wit and experience, and more on Faith - and yes, with a capital "F." A concept I thought I had understood long ago...I learned in these last couple of months that I understood nothing about faith. And while I won't claim to have "gotten it" out here, I can say that I've gotten a little closer.

Another thing that has happened, and it's surprised me, is that I feel I have aged considerably in these 90 days. My body feels wracked up, I am creaking and loping, and have even taken to a little hobbling from time to time. This is inexplicably new to me. I've always taken not a little bit of pride in that fact that even though I'm small, I'm pretty strong. But it seems all of the combined miles of these last months have taken a toll, and I need some serious downtime I think to heal.

This doesn't mean completely slugging out in front of the TV with the Xena Box Set (though you can place even money that many episodes will be viewed in the next weeks). A massage, a long one, is certainly in order (and I just learned from gwen that she has scheduled one for me for Thursday evening...one of the many reasons why I love her.) And then I'll head back to the gym and talk to Regina about how to best repair these bones and muscles, and keep the strength I know is buried in there somewhere.

But I think too, as I look at some of the pictures of myself...that I´ve aged in another way as well. It feels, that I've lost something...pieces of myself that have dropped off along the way. Old armor perhaps. Maybe it's been replaced by a new, more malleable version, I don't know. But in looking at some of these photos, I am struck by not knowing completely who that person is. I don't dislike it, neccesarily, she's just a little different, and I think I'll need to spend a little time getting used to the new skin.

And in saying that, the first thing that comes to mind is that I can't wait to start spending time with other people. 3 months with yourself is PLENTY.

I'm looking forward to catching up with my entire Portland crew, and heading south to see all my family from Southern Oregon to San Francisco (with, of course a diversion to Seattle - don't worry Rebecca!).

And I have loads of stories I want to work on. There are people out there doing far more productive things than myself, and I want to focus on them for the next several months.

So we close out this chapter, with joy, thanks and glee for having finished unscathed in all the ways that matter. And simple gratitude for being able to have the experience in the first place. I know it hasn´t been a unique undertaking, but it´s not the sort of thing we get to do everyday, and I recognize and appreciate that.

Thank you all so much for continuing to follow along. Writing this is incredibly grounding for me and I would do it whether anyone was reading or not.

But it makes it a lot more fun knowing you're here with me.

* above quote from the song "Leeds" by Emily Saliers/Indigo Girls

No really, it's a good one!

2008-11-10T07:39:00.000-08:00

I don´t like jokes.

The phrase, "hey, you wanna hear a joke?" falls right next to,
"can I help you, sir?" in the category of things I'd be happy to never hear again.
It could be because I grew up around comedy; listening to it, watching it, worked in the business for many years. So it could be that I'm full, but it's probably a truer statement that because I have seen so much good comedy, that a stale joke just rubs me the wrong way.

Also because your standard barroom jibe only amounts to making fun of someone for their gender/physique/ethnic/religious-ness. And therefore...isn't funny.

This is funny...from one of the masters, Paula Poundstone (my personal favorite):

"My mom once told me how she was taught to swim. That her parents took her out in a boat in the middle of the lake and threw her off the boat...and that's how she learned to swim.
I said, 'Mom, they weren't trying to teach you to swim.'"

Why am I bringing this up?

Because last night, at about two in the morning as we were sailing through the night towards Portugal, I was woken up by the snuffled guffaws of the couple behind me. I had originally liked these guys, we had had a nice chat before leaving the station...interesting couple.

But man, it's hard enough for me to get to sleep as it is, and on a train no less. So to be woken up, and then have it turn out they were telling stupid jokes to each other...really stupid jokes...and actually laughing, with knee slaps and everything,well...that was the end.
I killed them.

And got away with it too, because here I am sitting comfortably in an internet cafe in Lisbon. I am super tired, wandered around for awhile today, kind of got a gander of what I really want to see tomorrow (Maritime Museum, walk to the beach, Fado music). I'm in a lovely little hotel (Hotel Azul, in case you want to know. Oh, maybe my Dad, 'cause he's been Goggle-Earthing me - it's on Rua Luz Soriano, Dad) and I couldn't be more excited about coming home on Wednesday. I'm ready. Although, there is a slight tugging that I don't get to play a little more in Portugal...but I'm ready to stop being a freak in a strange land and go back to being a freak in my own country.

So...we'll have some parting words tomorrow I'm sure, and then the next time I write to you will be from Portland, Oregon!

Oh...for fun, why don't you send me some of your own least favorite things people say to you?

Hasta luego España

2008-11-09T09:19:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, shortly ater I moved to Portland, Gwennie and I went to Oaks Bottom Amusement Park for a little amusement and we made three successive mistakes.

First, we parked the car about 3 miles or so from the park and took a lovely stroll through the woods to the entrance.

Secondly, upon arriving, we hoovered a couple of soft freeze cones, and I think there were even corn dogs involved.

Then we hopped on the roller coaster, immediately followed by the Tilt-A-Whirl.

We had to sit on a bench for close to an hour to get our balance and stomach back. It was a slow, miserable walk back to the car.

That´s sort of how I´m feeling right now as I sit in the Chamartin train station in Madrid. I´ve been volleyed across the continent, riding fast subways, a jet and another subway to get here in just a few short hours and I´ve got a little vertigo thing happening.

But, I have several hours to even out before I hop on the night train that will deposit me in my last destination city of Lisbon, completing this grand adventure.

I spent some time walking the quiet, Sunday financial district and was fortunate to happen upon a small museum that was offering, gratis, a wonderful show of photography, focused on women. Movie stars to migrant workers and spanning nearly 100 years, the perspective was terrific and it was nice way to while away the time and clear some of the travel out of my cells.

Over the years I´ve gotten very good at whiling away time. I can write in my journal, read, or just sit and watch the people as they wander around in their people modes.

There´s an episode of Seinfeld, a little scene that I think about from time to time. It´s actually my father´s favorite episode...the one where the gang travels to India for a wedding (the story moves in backwards time, which my Dad likes). Anyway, the scene is of Elaine and Putty as they are sitting in the plane, preparing for the long journey. Elaine is getting books together for reading and she notices Putty just sitting there.

"Don´t you have a book or something?"

"Nah," he says.

"What, are you just gonna sit there the entire flight?"

"Yeah," he says.

It makes her crazy, but there´s a part of me that gets Putty in that. I don´t know what goes on in his head, but there´s certainly enough musing that gets batted around in mine to loosen the hours.

Well, I'm scattered it seems...which makes the time go faster because I can´t really focus on anything anyway.

So...I´ll just sign off I suppose. I say goodbye to Spain this evening, goodbye to cafe con leches, bocadillos, the culture of tranquilo, siestas, loud motorcycles and barking dogs. The memories of long days spent walking through farmlands filled with wine grapes, of plains that have relinqushed their grass to the stables, of silent, dark woods that fill the air with the energy of an ageless time.

I don´t know when, or if, I will return here. There are so many other places I want to travel to if I get the opportunity to continue my journeys. But, the weeks I spent walking the Camino will be treasured as much for their serenity as for their burden, and I am grateful for it.

Con mucho amor you crazy country, perhaps we will meet again down the road.

Munich

2008-11-08T08:41:00.000-08:00

Last night, after giving me several small cheeses for the road and a few hugs, Monika and Ulrich packed me into the car of a friend of theirs and I was whisked down the Autobahn into the outskirts of Munich.

I am staying at the home of Stefan and Steffi, also friends of the Leiners and who were gracious enough to put up a stranger for two nights. Stefan is a musician that runs a music school here in Munich as well as plays in a pretty tight little cover band (I saw a DVD the other night) that tours frequently here in Europe. This morning he told me he grew up in this house, and that it had been in his family since the 20ś, but that it was destroyed during the war and rebuilt in 1949.

Munich was the center of the Third Reich, and Hitler delivered many of his tirades here in the city plazas. Subsequently, much of this city was virtually destroyed during WWII. I had an opportunity to go on the "Third Reich" walking tour this morning, but though it would no doubt be interesting...I felt it was a little bleak for only having one day here, so I stuck with a couple classical museums instead.

A few days ago, at dinner, we were talking about U.S. History and Native Americans. I was telling them that one of the things I learned during my walk across the country is that our history books don't adequately represent what really happened, even after all this time we aren't in the habit of telling the truth of our own history. They asked why. I said I didn't know. Blindness, shame...unwillingness to deliver anything but an embellishment.

"Why?" Johanna, Monika and Ulrich's youngest said, "We had Hitler...we had Nazis, we learn all about what happened during the war. It's important to know exactly what happened so that never happens again."

As I walked through the streets of Munich today I couldn't help but think about what was happening here 60 years ago. I went St. Peter's Cathedral and saw photos of the wreckage after it had been bombed; with altar statues crumbled under the marble columns and the pews wasted and splintered to near dust. Many of the sites I saw depicted these "before and after" photos and I appreciated the will to rebuild.

Steffi told me last night that her grandparents would say that those here in Munich were the lucky ones because this was the area occupied by the Americans following the allied victory. Germany was divided up into 4 regions, the U.S., British, French and Russian armies each had a section of the country. She told me that the Americans were the most tolerant, and weren't as prejudiced or cruel against the German citizens as the other occupying forces. "The Americans weren't attacked on their own land by the Germans...maybe this is why," she said, "also, I think many Americans, especially during that time, had relatives or knew people that were from here, or at least had some familial ties to Europe and I think this helped them understand and relate to us during the rebuilding. And I think this is why the Iraq occupation is a failed effort and is so different for the United States now."

Yep, different.

I've enjoyed getting to know a few folks from Germany over the last weeks. It seems to be an astute culture, with people widely interested in politics and history. And, thankfully for me, pretty much all speak fluent English. Germans spend 7, 8, 9 years studying English, starting at an early age...and so not only do they speak it well, they seem to enjoy practicing it with a native speaker. Many also learn another language (French, Spanish or Latin) in their later school years. They don't understand a culture that doesn't encourage this sort of multi-linguistic education. Neither do I.

History, history. I know sooooooooo little about the world. I don't even really have a good bead on my own country sometimes I think. People kept asking me here to explain the Electoral College to them. I would mostly shrug, "I have no idea. I try, keep trying every presidential election cycle to wrap my head around...can't." They would kind of laugh, but not really. How could I not know how our own President gets elected?

Well, it's a good thing there's weisswurst and bretzels during those times of trouble! Mmmmmm, sausages. They like their sausages here in Bavaria, and I am all for that. White sausage, with a little sweet mustard and a salty pretzel to go with it is pretty standard fare here. Knocks those bocadillas clear out of the arena of snack food competition. There is no competition when it comes to sausage and mustard in my book.

And if I had that passion for understanding the Electoral College, I could deftly explain it to the world. But, so it goes.

And it's probaby a good thing I'm leaving tomorrow or I would get quite portly from weisswurst and then I would come home all roly-poly and you would wonder if I really did any walking at all.

Well, it's evening here. The taverns around the Glockenspiel are filling up with people enjoying liter mugs of beer here on a Saturday night. The air is crisp and a half-moon is hanging up there with a few sifty clouds around it.

Tomorrow is a long day - flying in the morning to Madrid and then take the train later that evening to Lisbon. I'm getting excited though about making my way home.

Oh, and before I forget, and in case I can't get to another internet station, I wanted to wish my Aunt Rebecca a happy birthday on the 11th!!!!!!! And a big thanks for collecting those papers for me, you rock. We will celebrate your birthday when I get home!

Also wanted to thank all my Veteran brothers and sisters for their service and will remember them on Veteran's Day.

And I also wanted to give a shout-out to my buddy Gwennie who has been so helpful in taking care of my mail, my truck and my motorcycle for all these months I've been away. She's been a rock for me this whole year and I really appreciate it. Love you lots!

Okay my loves...talk to you soon...Oh, and Kathleen? Keep it up...you can do it!!!!!!

Well howdy there

2008-11-06T10:48:00.000-08:00

Monika and Ulrich have given me leave to play on the computer a bit and download some photos. I have a lot from the cheese-making side of things, which they were interested in having, so here are a few photos from my time here in Bavaria.

This photo shows me looking not too troll-like surprisingly and was taken yesterday in Kempten. It was market day and I strolled around town while Monika sold her beautiful cheese at the Farmer´s market.

I´ve spent most of my time here in cheese-making room at the farm. Monika runs and incredibly clean and efficient operation and it´s been a joy to witness how milk turns into cheese!

It all starts with these guys, of course. Gals, really. There are 60 goats here on the farm. 59 females and one male. Right now all of the goats (except Billy of course) are pregnant and will give birth to the little ones in February.

Every morning and evening the goats are milked. Right now as it´s winter and they´re pregnant there is less milk, but they´re still getting about 50 liters a day. I love watching the milking process. The goats are just fun to watch. They are milked 6 at a time, Ulrich will drop down the ramp and 6 goats will race up onto the platform and put their heads in the little slots with amaz rapidity. There are treats on the other side of course, and the food keeps them occupied while the milking commences. The process takes less than 5 minutes, then the ramp is let down on the other side of the platform and they race off of it and into the stables to their dinner of hay.

These goats are outside all day and are only in the stables at night or if the weather is too cold for them to be out. They are fed with hay that the Leiner´s grow themselves. All their feed is certified organic. They´ve been doing it this way for nearly thirty years, long before the current trend towards organic foods. They try their best to keep their goats happy and healthy to ensure the best possible lives for the goats, and the best possible product for their customers.

Monika starts her mornings at around 6:30. She will cook the milk in these big ól copper kettles......

.....add a few magic ingredients....

....and then pour the milk into molds to begin cheesing.

She makes at least 20 different kinds of cheese. Hard cheese, fresh cheese, camemberts, herb spreads, feta, etc. This photos shows a variety of cheese in the "curing" process.

Every day the cheese gets "shmeared," with a little water and turned over. This was a perfectly simple job and perfect for me! I got to do this every day, except I liked to think of it more as "massaging" the cheese. Monika says she will hear complaining from the cheese after I´m gone. She also said today that "now, your days will be dreary because there is no more cheese in them."

Here´s some just poured curd, hanging to get the water and whey out...

The same cheese in a little more forceful water removal method...

Twice a week they take the cheese to the local market in Kempten, about 6 kilometers from the farm. The Leiner´s prefer to sell this way. Small, quality products in a place that they can interact with their customers. They´ve been selling at this market for nineteen years.

Here´s a little photo of dinner...I have so enjoyed getting to eating like this every night.

Here´s Monika and Ulrich and their daughter Johanna. They took me up into the mountains the other day to check out a famous Bavarian castle (which I can´t spell at the moment, but it was built by King Ludwig II!). They then treated me to a wonderful lunch, with the Alps as our backdrop. You´ll have to trust me...they´re there.

Whelp, looks like that´s all the pictures I have for the moment...perhaps I can download some more in a bit, but it´s getting late and the day starts early here, but I hope you enjoyed these little snaps. Soon, very soon I´ll be home and will spend mucho time putting pictures on the web for you!

Lots of love.

Oh hey...way to go on that there little election. I got up at 4am to watch CNN´s coverage and was deeply moved by Obama´s speech. Dare say I feel a little pride coming back for my country. What a thing to get to witness...I´ll talk more about that in a bit I imagine.

Down on the Bauernhof

2008-11-02T09:26:00.000-08:00

Well howdy there or should I say Guten Abend. I haven´t even attempted to learn any German, it is way to complicated for my little pea brain, especially at this stage in the game...but I can´t help but want to learn a few words here and there.

So...I am in Bavaria, way in the Southland of Germany, I can see the Alps from the kitchen window here, that´s how far south I am.

I am living on the farm of Monika and Ullrich Leiner for at least another few days; I arrived here last Wednesday and have been happy as a clam (giddy as a goat?) ever since.

They have been on this particular piece of land for twenty years, have a herd of 60 milk goats, and churn out wonderful, organic goat cheese which they sell at the local market here twice a week and make their living here in this way.

Having me here is not unusual for them at all as they have practicum students here frequently from the local agricultural college. They don´t usually have folks here for such a short time, and normally Monika wouldn´t have allowed it as you can´t really learn anything in ten days and it can be more trouble than not to have someone ghosting around. But...they´ve never had anyone here from the States and they were interested in the cultural exchange, and she knew how interested I was in the farm operations and the cheesemaking, so she allowed it.

So far it´s been an incredibly cool experience. I have mostly been in the cheese making room, watching fresh milk turn into both soft and hard cheeses, a process I have never seen. But twice a day the goats get milked, and I have hung around the stable on a few occasions to watch them clamor around.

(see video of this if you like...)

Monika and Ullrich are incredibly good at this, very efficient...they have to be since it´s just the two of them (they have 3 children who are all grown and aren´t interested in farming...two of them still live at home and are in college). I keep thinking about Gwen when I´m watching the cheesemaking, because I know she would absolutely appreciate the speed at which Monika moves around and how spotlessly clean every aspect of her operation is.

She makes cheese every day because there´s milk every day. That is, until February when all the goats give birth (all sixty of them are pregnant). It doesn´t add up to tons of cheese, but it´s enough for them to sell, and have plenty left over for them to eat. they aren´t interested in expanding their market, they have plenty of work already, but they easily could.

I have really enjoyed being in a home, with my own little room that I don´t have to check out of every day.

I generally get up around 6, and am in the cheesery between 6:30 and 7:30. We work until around 10 o´clock and then have breakfast. Yay for real breakfast! The Germans eat wonderfully, and the food here is mostly from their farm. In the mornings we have cheese (there are about 7 to 10 kinds to choose from), a few slices of meat (usually goat and\or ham ´cause that´s who lives here on the farm...) homemade bread (wheat and rye...no white!), fruit and tomatoes with butter and jam, coffee and tea. Real food! I have grown so accustomed to the non-existent breakfasts of Portugal and Spain that I forgot about actual breakfasts!

Lunch is their big meal, a soup followed by some sort of meat and two or three vegetable dishes. We have mostly had red cabbage cooked with cinnamon and cloves, and a really nice beet dish. There are usually potatoes as well. And they have dessert at this meal...we have been having stewed apples from their tree with fresh cream.

Dinner is pretty much a repeat of breakfast with slightly different additions, like pickles, coming to the table. It´s been...lovely to eat such nice fresh food, so it´s been a real treat.

Anyway, I´m gonna sign off for now...there is only one computer here and Johanna, their youngest needs to use it...as does Ullrich...so, I´ll write you again before I leave (I will go into Munich for a little sightseeing on Friday and then head back to Madrid a week from today).

I just read over this post and it seems really scattered...ugh, my brain. I keep thinking that when I get home I want to sit at the computer and clean up this writing, egads...

okey doke...talk to you soon...

madrid to munich

2008-10-28T10:33:00.000-07:00

It's cold and raining here in Madrid and I'm a little shaky from my night train ride...it was a very good deal, just under 60€...but it was coach for 10 hours and therefore sleep was elusive.

But tonight I'm in a nice little hostal room, I've got my travel clothes drying for tomorrow (I am soooo looking forward to being able to go to a laundromat when I get home and I thought I would never say that - but two months of hand washing my clothes in a sink....) and I just had a nice meal and am ready to tuck in for the evening.

I just got done spending a couple of hours at the Museo Nacional del Prado, one of the great art museums in the world (and it also happens to be the oldest public art museum, established in 1819). I only saw a portion of the collection, but two hours is really what I'm able to do and still appreciate the work.

They have works that I've studied in school hanging there live in front of me (most well-known to me were Velazquez' The Drinkers and Las Meninas. But there was also the tripped out Garden of Earthly Delights by Bosch, eerie still-lifes and rock anthem pieces by Raphael, Fra Angelico, Goya and El Greco. I will be back in Madrid for about 8 hours in a couple of weeks and plan to come back to see the pieces I missed since the museum is only about a fifteen minute walk from the train station and there's a place at this train station where I can stash my backpack for the day.

So tomorrow I get on the Metro and head to the International Terminal of the Madrid airport and head on into Munich. There's something still kinda fun about figuring my way around a city. Taking public transport, consulting the little maps...when I'm in the right space it's just a big game board and I'm this tiny figure trying to maneuver points A to B to J.

I came out of the movie theatre last night (saw W. - was disappointed) and it was just pouring rain. It had been clear skies when I went into the show, so it took me by surprise. I knew I had about a fifteen minute walk back to the Metro station...and fifteen minutes in a downpour can wreak havoc when you're walking around in it. The thought of wet boots for an overnight train ride did not excite me. But it's funny...I had this moment of panic about it until I remembered that I wasn't in a hurry (I had over two hours before my train left) and so just sat there under the awning for a few minutes, put my raingear on, wrapped up my pack in it's little cover and by the time I settled in, so did the weather and I strolled through a light Portland-ish rain without much trouble.

I love how panicked I can get on one occasion, and in the next be perfectly calm. There's no rhyme or reason to it at all. A couple of days ago this girl was so rude to me in a cafe that I almost started to cry about it...but I tried to turn it...I've been taught over the years that a cure for this kind of stuff is to pray for the person you feel has wronged you...and even though I wanted to yell at this young woman, and I did (in my head)...I decided that living with that resentment all day long was just going to bum me out, so I said a prayer for her and for everyone else out there that maybe had a moment of feeling like an outsider on that morning.

I was watching TV the other night and there was this program about this little ten year old girl who has that horrific disease where you turn old at a very young age...I can't remember the name of it, but it's one of those tragic illnesses that they can't cure and it causes these kids to go through a terrible amount of pain and disfigurement before the disease claims them.

But this little girl was such a spitfire, and she had this great mom, and an adoring older brother and these two really great friends and she has just been in my thoughts ever since. The show was in Portuguese so all I was able to do was watch the pictures. There was a scene where she was in a ballet class and it both broke and lifted my heart to watch her there, on those aching, wobbly legs...being quite graceful along with her classmates. She was so physically different from these kids, but she had this great expression on her face of concentration and joy and it was really just very beautiful. Talk about feeling like an outsider in the world...whenever I feel like that, from now on...I will think of little Claudia, whose strength in that aspect, shone through loud and clear.

Okay...need to get back out in this weather and make a phone call to the German goat cheese woman and then get on "home."

Thanks Big G (and PJ!) for your comments. It's funny, I was thinking about that "produce hose" bit the other day as well. I was running a few of Ellen's routines through my head and cracking up out there on the trail. I'll have to watch that too when I get back.

Okey doke my friends...say a little prayer that we have grand weather for flying tomorrow just after noon. You'll all be tucked into your beds, but maybe you can think about me before you go to sleep.

Lots of love, I hope I get to talk to you soon.

Lisbon to Madrid

2008-10-27T07:14:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Lisbon a couple of hours ago and am wandering around this massive and busy city in search of something to fill the 8 hours I have before catching the night train to Madrid.

I ended up wandering in here to say hi to y'all.

I'm trying to find a movie theatre...haven't seen a movie in quite some time and thought there might be an American movie at the Cineplex. It's a few blocks up the street, so when I'm done here I'll see. It's Monday and most of the museums are closed. I also have my backpack with me which loads me down and makes me feel vulnerable, so I don't like to wander too much with it on. I'll be back here for a couple of days before I leave the continent and will get in a decent spate of sightseeing then.

Went to one of the Fatima shrines this morning before getting on the bus. This place, unlike the massive sanctuary, is set in the oaks not far from the childhood homes of the little shephards. I was wondering yesterday where the greenery was in all this shrinedom. Mary did appear to shephards who were grazing their flock...and yet the sanctuary built around her appearance seemed to be have no natural life to it.

But I talked to a guy this morning and he pointed me in the right direction and I found another site where She appeared and enjoyed the setting much better. Except I was so saddened to see that even here, there was cigarette butts, candy wrappers and toilet paper (!!!) littering the area right around the statue and marker of this sacred site.

We have soooooo far to go.

I want to read more about Fatima and the words of St. Lucia...but it seems the basic gist of the messages she received were that we were all to pray for the sinners and convert to Catholicism. In this the world would be healed. That's a pretty thumbnail sketch.

I'm not converting to anything today...I like the broad spectrums of faith out there too much to bow before one idea. But I do agree that a deep conversion needs to take place if we are to ever evolve. Maybe we're not really supposed to...it seems like an unmanageable task to shift our consciousness at this point. We still call each other names based on skin color and the flavor of each other's accents for pete sakes. We still traffic in the slavery of humans, four-leggeds and our winged ones. We value money over land, river and sea. These all seem to be base concepts that we are pretty far from changing globally.

There are a lot of American programs on T.V. here in Portugal. But they seem to show an episode of National Geographic every afternoon. It's heartening to see all the good work happening out there, and I know there's a lot of it...but my goodness we are digging ourselves out of a deep, dank hole.

That's what I was thinking about this morning as I was wandering the paths in those Holm Oak groves.

My time is just about up here. I'll probably find a spot in Madrid to write again.
I'm looking forward to having more than thirty-sixty minutes of writing time when I come home!

Lots of love.

there must be something about me and goats...

2008-10-26T07:52:00.000-07:00

Ellen DeGeneres has a hysterical routine about marrying a goat...I can't remember which DVD it's on, Big G would know, but I was running it through my head the other day while I was working thru this plan. (and here it is...thanks to YouTube)

Anyway...last week I met a German woman at an alburgue in Barrios. I was telling her that I was going to have an extra couple of weeks on my hands and I wasn't quite sure where to go once my walk was over.

She suggested I come work on her friend's farm in Bavaria where she raises goats and makes about fifteen different kinds of specialty cheese from their milk.

Well, that sounded like something.

So it took a little finagling, but on Wednesday morning I'll be flying into Munich and then heading into the mountains to hang out and work on this farm for a little over ten days.

I'm pretty excited about getting my hands dirty and learning how to make goat cheese. I'm also looking forward to being in one place for awhile. There's a lot left to see here in Portugal, but I'm way over hotels and pensions and having to look for places to stay every night. I hope I can come back here at some point and tour it again, maybe in a car...

I am writing you today from Fatima. It's quite a place. The cathedral and the shrine devoted to the vision of Mary by three young shephards here in 1917 is extraordinary...

As are the sheer numbers of devotees. It's Sunday, so this bumps the numbers up I'm sure...but man, you should see the parking lot, it's filled with tour busses and RV's. People picnicking, grills are going. It's like a big, holy tailgate party.

And with that comes some moving, reverant sights, like the people walking on their knees, or crawling around the chapel built on the site where the first vision occurred. I didn't take any photos of this either for obvious reasons, but here is a picture of the plaza early in the morning before Mass.

There's also a massive pyre where people by the hundreds line up to offer candles.

Mass this morning was beautiful and I wandered the crowds, watching people, listening to the words I couldn't understand piped over loudspeakers, and loving the sounds of the choir as they sang in between.

Those moments make up for the bazillion shops selling plastic Fatimas and beads and trinkets galore. It's like Fisherman's Wharf. Cellphones going off during mass, people talking on cellphones in the Chapels...eegads...makes me crazy.

Anyway...have to get off the computer now. I will try to write to you when I can. Tomorrow I go to Lisbon where I am boarding a night train to Madrid and then to Munich from there. I could've flown from Lisbon, but it would've meant changing planes in Madrid anyway and so I'd rather take 2 flights instead of 4 (I have to come back to Lisbon to catch my flight home). Don't think about it too much...it makes sense to me. I like trains better...if it wasn't going to cost me and arm and leg I would've taken a train all the way to Munich...but there you go.

SO I don't know what my scene will be like in Germany. I know I am going to be in the town of Kempten in Allgau. And that's all I know right now.

So...I'll talk to ya soon! Oh, by the way, Big G? You are hysterical and I knew you were going to have a quote for me. But you know what scene I was thinking about? The one where she and Ryan O'Neal decided to pretty her up a little bit and they get that ribbon for her hair and the lady says something like, "Well it makes all the difference." Can't wait to watch that movie with you again!

Lots of love folks

I...AM NOT...AN ANIMAL!!!

2008-10-23T10:14:00.000-07:00

Seriously, you would think I was lurching around the town square with a flour sack over my head the way some people have been looking at me these past days.

And okay, I will admit that I'm looking slightly less than "well put together," but I mean c'mon, I don't think I'm ready for the bell tower just yet.

And it's difficult to convey a sense of style (and for me, difficult is the tamest of words I can use here) when you´ve been living in the same pants and t-shirt for two months. I long to buy new clothes, but the ones I've got have been perfect for the hiking I've been doing, and any other clothing would just be something else to carry.

So I probably have a bit of a street urchin look going on for me, which really stops working once you get past the age of say...ten. I've also lost a considerable amount of weight, so these cargo pants that were comfortably loose for walking have become clown-like. We won't spend time talking about this t-shirt. I wore it for LW2, and all across Spain and I should really get rid of it...but I can't, just can't do it. And then there's the decidedly male flannel shirt I wear over everything to really bang that outfit home.

So, okay...maybe I get it a little bit.

I was telling Gwen that if I was in Portland, no one would look at me twice. But I happen to be in Western Europe where fashion is quite the thing. It's like being in New York...people look good here. When I was trouping with the pilgrim hoards on the Camino Frances, there were so many of us dusting around in our shabby clothes that no one noticed us. But, that's not the case here either and so even in the smaller villages I regularly get "the once over." And I'm not just talking about furtive little glances. I'm talking about full-on, eyes covering me from head to toe, trying to take it all in. Children, teenagers, workmen, the woman watering her garden. Doesn't matter. I'm the side-show of Portugal.

Yesterday a guy was walking across the lane a couple hundred feet in front of me and he actually stopped and backed up a few feet to take a gander. And I'm not entirely sure about this, but I think he may have crossed himself.

And maybe for someone more secure, all this attention would be somehow fulfilling, or at the very least not bothersome. But this isn't "Hey, Breck Girl!" attention, and it bothers me a great deal. I can't seem to get very comfortable and have become downright clumsy with it.

Today I was at this diner type place, and so many people were looking at me that the piece of chicken I was cutting flew onto the floor while my cutlery clattered and screeched to a halt on the plate. I looked up with that goober smile I have as if to say, "ha ha, silly me!" But instead of sympathetic shrugs people quickly averted their eyes back to their meals, hoping to stave off any further outbursts.

So...maybe now that I'm done walking, I'll try to find something else to wear. Think they make gunny sacks in a size 8?

Think I'm done.

2008-10-23T05:07:00.000-07:00

Done with walking that is. Had a couple of hard days in a row (cold rain, well-meaning locals misdirecting me way out of my path) and after 7 or so weeks of slugging around with a backpack, decided to bus it down here to Porto and go from there using the wonderful cheap and easy public transport of Europe.

Part of it is that I'm simply tired, both in head and body. But a bigger reason I think is that as I near Lisbon (or Fatima...I'm going to both places), the walking is becoming increasingly tiresome with the ratio of heavy traffic roads outweighing the quieter country paths. And here, as in Spain, the traffic moves very fast, there are little or no shoulders to walk on and it just seems foolhardy to continue like this. Plus, it's annoying. And actually, there was a stretch yesterday that was so ridiculously dangerous that it pissed me off.

So, in the alburgue last night at Rates, after talking to other pilgrims who were making their way towards Santiago (and here they are), I decided to end my walking tour there. They had told me that the walking was sucky from Porto on up, and that I may as well just take the train or the bus.

So there we are.

So, I found a little pension here (little is the operative word!) in the amazing city of Porto, with the ocean in the background, and I'll spend a day or two here, enjoying the sites and figuring out my next move.

This pension, Pension Duas Nacoes - right in the heart of the city , is a mere 14 euros for a single room...yay. And even tho it's REALLY small, it's very clean and relatively quiet.

I still have three weeks here to float around and I'm working on a couple of extra options to fill that time without burning through my last cent on hotels and pensions; there are few alburgues here in Portugal..but you know what they do have? The Bombeiros Volunteer Fire Departments where you can stay for free. I stayed in one the other night...got to sleep in a dorm room above all the firetrucks. My little friend Hank would've been all a flutter in that place.

Anyway - so there's a quick update. Over the next couple of days I should have a plan worked out and I'll fill you in. Lots of love to everyone.

Thanks Everyone....

2008-10-20T03:20:00.000-07:00

Thank you, all of you who sent me birthday wishes...it was really sweet and super welcomed this morning as I'm sitting here in a public library in Ponte de Lima, Portugal.

I've been in Portugal for two days now and am so far enjoying this country quite a bit, despite having absolutely no way to communicate with any ease at all. I keep finding myself slipping into Spanish, which people don't fully seem to mind, but I would much rather garble Portuguese. And yes, it's similiar...but it's not similiar in the way that say American and British English is similiar, you know? They are entirely different languages and my comprehension level has dropped down to nearly nil.

I will say though, that I find it a lovely language to listen to...softer than Spanish in many ways. But... I just don't think I'm gonna get much of anywhere with it in the short time that I'll be here.

In case you're curious -- I had a wonderful birthday - it was full of magic and grace and fun.

It didn't start out that way as I had to leave very early from the alburgue in Pontevedra to catch the train to Tui. There was only one leaving that morning (a Saturday) at 7:00am. The woman at the ticket booth was only mildly helpful that early in the morning, but I got my ticket and then immediately screwed up by getting it validated in the machine. But instead of punching my ticket, the machine sucked it up, leaving me standing there, with that "well that was stupid" look on my face.

Then I realized I was in Spain, not in France and that perhaps you didn't validate your ticket that way. Regardless, I had 4 minutes to catch my train and I needed to purchase another ticket. So I went back to the lady, explained what I did...she actually rolled her eyes at my stupidity, as if it would cost her an extra 3.15€, and slipped me another ticket just as the train was being called. I made it.

Had to transfer in Redondela, where another non-helpful attendant told me to listen to the announcement instead of just telling me what track I needed to be on. I tried to explain that I couldn't always understand the announcement, but that wasn't really his concern. Thankfully, there was a nice guy standing there and let me know where I needed to be, as he was heading the same direction.

I made it to Tui (it's funny...what would've taken me three days walking took me about 25 minutes by train) just as the sun was rising and, shaking off the whole train experience, got a tea, found out where downtown was and headed off.

There's a bridge, called the Puente International, that separates Spain and Portugal. It's not overtly flashly or symbolic, but it had a fine footpath and as I walked across the Minho River, the Cathedrals on either side of the water chimed out the hour. On the Spain side, it was turning ten o:clock, and where I was heading, the bells tolled out the earlier hour of 9. It was good I was gaining and hour, as I was getting a pretty late start and still had 20 kilometers to walk.

I made my way easily through the city of Valenca and suddenly I was back in the lovely eucalyptus trees, heading further south.

I don't have a lot of time left on the computer, but I can tell you that I received a Mars bar from a group of British Columbians I ran into.

Two lovely men, a retired opera singer from Hamburg and his Galician partner, are in the habit of inviting pilgrims into their home for refreshments and I was the lucky recipient that day. Sitting by their pool, overlooking the Minho valley and having Nestea and German cookies.

I arrived at the alburgue in San Roque around 5:00, and was greeted by three Brazilian pilgrims who had just cooked a meal and invited me to join them. The food was good and ample and although they didn't speak English (Jose spoke very little), we had a lovely time. Later, I was talking to their friend Valter and he was asking me where I was born...I told him that I was born on "this day" near San Francisco and his face lit up and he grabbed my hand and led me back into the dining room where he excitedly told Jose, and his wife Maria, that it was my birthday. Whereupon they leaped up and sang me the most rousing version of Happy Birthday I've ever heard...with clapping! Then they all hugged me and it was all very festive and sweet.

Turns out we were the only four people in the alburgue that night, so we got to spread out. And there was a nice courtyard and a lovely night sky for me to sleep under the stars. So...in all, it was a truly lovely way to begin my forty-third year.

And now I'm here, taking a kind of undeserved rest day...but this town has a great deal of historical signifigance and I wanted to take some time to enjoy it. Also, there is a three-star hotel here that offers pension prices to pilgrims and I wanted to take advantage of that.

Plus, tomorrow's stage is a full 33 kilometers. That's a very long day on the road, and I wanted to be rested for it as I'll likley be walking nearly ten hours tomorrow.

So...there you go. That's the news...I'll try to talk to you again in a couple of days when I reach the great city of Porto.

Much love, thanks again for all your birthday wishes, I'm sure they helped make that day really special for me.

quickie post from...god, where am I?

2008-10-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

It´s so funny how I just lose these city names soooo quickly. I´m in Pontevedre...inching my way towards the Portuguese border, but I´ll be inching them must faster tomorrow as I am taking a bus or a train to the border town of Tui in Spain. I´ll be losing 3 days of the walk, but that´s fine...I´m ready to see another country and something came up that I want to get to...I´ll tell you about it later, plans are still in the works...but I can tell you that it´s fun fun fun!

So I go to Tui tomorrow, and walk to Porto, about 5 or 6 days. From Porto I´ll be taking a bus to Fatima to see that famous shrine. I just missed the big festival on October 13th, which is the date when Fatima first revealed herself to the three small shepherd children in 1917. I´m very much looking forward to going there.
I was going to walk there from Porto, but in talking with people who have made that journey on foot, I´ve decided to bus or train it. Apparantly the roads are quite dangerous and not set up for this sort of travel. So...won´t be doing that.

I´m pretty good. Really enjoying the serenity of this Camino. There are very few pilgrims on it, and everything is really quite mellow, including the alburgues. I´ve been having some difficulty going "backwards," as I´m having to follow all those yellow arrows from the opposite direction. You wouldn´t think this would be any more difficult than having to follow them towards Santiago instead of away from it...but it is. Can´t really explain why. Part of it I suppose is that so many fewer people are walking this trail so you can´t just hang out and wait for the next pilgrim to come by, you could be sitting there a couple of hours. One woman said that it´s psychologically more difficult to go backwards...not sure about that. But, as I´m walking I have to keep looking behind me to notice the arrows, instead of seeing them ahead, which, when you get lost in thought (which I do frequently) can lead to you being physically misplaced as well. Every once in awhile, about every tenth arrow or so, there will be one in blue, pointing towards Fatima - and I understand that once I cross border into Portugal, I shouldn´t have any problems as Fatima is the main pilgrimage destination in that country, not Santiago.
Anyway, I got lost A LOT on my first day...it was really frustrating. I got some great help from locals, including a mechanic who left his shop to drive me back to the Camino after I had wandered off it over 2 kilometers. But...oh man, here´s where my lack of Spanish is kicking my ass. Hourly.

But, today I´m getting a little better at picking up the clues as to where people are coming from and didn´t get lost once today. But yesterday I ended up walking two hours out of my way...which really sucks at the end of a day when you´re lugging all your crap around with you, you´re tired and hungry and just need to land. But...so it goes, if this is all I have to complain about...

The nice thing I suppose is that because I need to be more vigilant, I´m forced to set a slower pace and I´m beginning to really enjoy just putting my trust into something higher than myself. I´ll talk more about this later, but I can tell you that since I left Santiago my spirit has been lightened, and I´m walking these days, literally and otherwise, somehow less burdened . I dare say I´m having fun.

Anyway, my time is nearly up here. Thanks all of you who have emailed me, I can´t always write back to you personally due to the time frame, but I thank you so much. So...for Lisa and my Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, Rebecca, Matt and Amy, Big G, Carriefoot and Kathleen (thanks for those Portuguese translations by the way..you´re funny), Gwennie too. Lots of love to ALL of you and I´ll try to talk you again soon.

so you think you wanna do the camino?

2008-10-13T00:56:00.000-07:00

Maybe you don´t. Maybe this doesn´t interest you at all...if that´s the case, you can go ahead and skip this whole darn post since I´m going to talk about some of the specifics surrounding this journey.

I´m good by the way. You know, Hemingway made Pamplona his home during his ex-pat days, and if I ever want to flee the country and live abroad, I would come back to Finisterre. It´s wonderful here. Don´t want to leave tomorrow, but I need to get back to...not quite sure, but I can´t just stay here.

Anyhow.

So, let´s talk about the walk...

Certainly, this has been the most physically challenging thing I have ever done...I could´ve definitely lessened that challenge by taking a few less things on my back and not walking so many kilometers...you can kind of choose your level of intensity there.

The Camino, from St. Jean to Finisterre is generally broken up into 36 stages. And if you want to be an animal about it, you could do it in 36 days or less I suppose, but I don´t know why you would want to. The average distance per stage is probably about 22 kilometers (nearly 14 miles), but you don´t even have to go that distance if you don´t want to.

The Camino Frances, the most popular trail out of the 12 or 15 to Santiago, is extremely well set up for pilgrims and there are alburgues or hostals all over the place...it seemed at times that I wasn´t walking for more than a couple of hours when I saw an alburgue. This isn´t always true of course, but in general.

About 125,000 people will make the Camino Frances this year. It´s an extremely popular journey and is just getting more so. The upside is that there are services and shops specifically designed with the pilgrim in mind. The downside of course is that if you´re looking for a nice solitary journey, this isn´t the path to take.

I mean, you can definitely find your space to be alone...there were many days when I had the trail to myself, but you have to kind of work on pacing yourself away from the other groups, making a later start, going a little slower, what have you. It seemed to me that most people took off like rockets, sometimes before it was light outside, and were stationed at the next alburgue by noon. This was so not my way of walking, and generally by about 1:00 or 2:00, I was walking virtually alone on the trail, which I liked.

A lot of people were spooked by the idea of showing up at an alburgue and having it be full. This only happened to me once and my understanding is, that if you hang around long enough, someone will find you a spot to sleep..so it didn´t seem to be a real concern to me. Some folks though liked to get in early, claim a good spot for themselves, get to the laundry first, whatever. Bully for them.

So, the alburgues.

I think I´ve mentioned my dislike of them...but it´s not the alburgues themselves, I´m just a freak about personal space and these are not set up with that in mind at all. But, the ones I came across were clean, the people were friendly and the services were great and relatively cheap (talking laundry, phone, internet). You´ll pay anywhere from 3 to 8 euros a night for a bed, everything else is extra, including blankets sometimes...so bring your sleeping bag.

But for this price you´ll be sleeping in a room with anywhere from 4 to 40 people. Sometimes more. On bunk beds. I saw two alburgues, one in Ronscevalles (that had like 120 beds in it) and one I think in Logrono that had double bunk beds...which means if you´re walking solo you could be sleeping right next to someone you don´t know (shudder).

I found one place that only had two beds to a room, and that was awesome. Oh, and these are co-ed set ups as well, sometimes even in the bathroom and shower area. So...if you´re a freak, like me, about this kind of stuff...bring a tent or be comfortable sleeping outside. I loved being able to do this and was only denied once by the hospitalero from sleeping out on the patio. But this arrangement allowed me to sleep just fine.

I have a hard time falling asleep...don´t know why, just do. It has to be quiet and it has to be dark and if I´m in a small room with twenty people snoring and snuffling and moving around on the bunk bed above or below me, sleep will never find me. But you know, if you´re like my friends Corbs or Kathleen who could probably fall asleep in under a minute on a runway...then this wouldn´t be a problem for you at all.

I actually preferred staying in what are called Hospitals.

They were run by donation only and had a really nice community feel to them. Dinners were made an eaten together and a prayer service or some sort of gathering was held after the meal. They were typically small and run by the local church, or sometimes independantly. In fact, when I look back on all my favorite places that I stayed, they were all Hospitals.

San Bol, with the lovely Naiseh hospitalero who spoke 5 langauges and was just as warm and welcoming as could be. I stayed there two days and would´ve stayed longer, but I probably would´ve fallen madly in love with the place and with her and that just wasn´t to be my true path, so off I went. I mean she had a wish list that started with "a horse, a windmill..." and had other things such as "a pilgrim from Tanzania" and "less wind" on there. She´s from Holland..........

Then there was San Nicholas, run by Italians, who continued an ancient tradition of washing the feet of the pilgrims before dinner. This place was so sweet too, with the "Italian mother" as she called herself, feeding us...and wouldn´t stop feeding us. It was great.

Tosantos, with their 12th century altar and church devoted to the Virgin, carved into the rock on the side of the mountain. The guys who ran this place were extrordinarily sweet and one of them had a beautiful voice that he used to sing hymns and folk songs. Lovely.

And the place in Grañon, where I got to sleep on the floor of the church, staring up at a 15th century ceiling, the moonlight casting down onto the altar statuary. This also had a nice, inclusive prayer service and a terrific feeling of camradarie as people broke into songs in three or four different languages after dinner.

So...try to find the Hospitals if you can, they seemed to really work towards offering people "the spirit of the Camino," and did a nice job of it.

Anyway, enough of that, eh?

Food. Let´s talk about food.

I have had no problem with the food here at all. But I also don´t have any allergies to anything, nor am I a vegetarian or a vegan...so I can´t speak to any difficulties there other than, you could have some. Especially if you´re vegan, but even there you can always make use of the alburgue kitchens and cook your meals every night and really be just fine. Although, if you rely on soy products for your protein, veggie burgers, tofu...I never saw any of these things in any store..so, you´ll be doing the beans and legume thing for your protein.

There are little stores everywhere, and supermarkets in the bigger cities so I bought my own food a lot. Eating out every meal is expensive of course. The biggest difference I saw here was around breakfast. Sometimes in alburgues they would give you "breakfast," but the Spanish version of breakfast is white bread, toasted, with margarine and jam. But sometimes you just get these little cakey things. Protein is not on the list for breakfast food...so you´ll have to supplement. And there aren´t diners to just pop out for eggs and bacon. I did find, after awhile on the road, that some bars have food other than bocadillos (sandwiches, white bread, dry, with some sort of meat or cheese...no veggies, but usually big and cheap), and some bars serve eggs and ham. This was an awesome discovery, but you have to wait until mid-morning or noon for these platos combos.

Then at night you have the option of going out to dinner and having the "pilgrim´s menu," generally between 7-12 euros. I always enjoyed these, thought they were filling and tasty. For that price you get two plates (soup or salad or pasta, and then some sort of meat dish), dessert (yay!) and your choice of wine or water. I thought it was nuts that you could just get a bottle or a jug of wine brought to your table for that price, sometimes people would drink it all, often though, they would just have a glass and be done with it. Never had any of course, just...noticed it.

And I will confess, and it´s funny to me..that out of all the foods I really enjoy, burritos, fish tacos, sushi, mashed potatoes and spinach, hot dogs; do you know what I´m missing the most? Cheeseburgers. Of all things. It´s ridiculously American isn´t it? Actually, here in Finisterre there´s a place that makes a pretty decent rendition of one, but I will tell you that as soon as I get home, the next night, I´m going to McMennamin´s and I´m getting a cheeseburger and a chocolate milkshake and I will be soooo happy.

What else can we talk about? Food, sleep....

Oh, it would truly behoove you to learn a little Spanish. You don´t have to be fluent, but learning a few basic phrases, the polite expressions will go along way in easing your time here. People in Spain do not learn English as a general rule, if they speak a second language, it´s likely to be French or German, so don´t assume that people know even a little English, because it´s just not a part of the culture here. And you´ll be shopping, and ordering food and you´re gonna need stuff, so learning a few key words and verbs will be helpful. (I want, I need, I have is a good place to start) And if you have friends or family that speak it, practice it a little with them. I mean, I have relatives and friends who speak fluent Spanish, so I´m kinda kicking myself for not practicing a little before I left.

And you could get by without it, people did. You can stammer and point and make your way just fine, but really, it´s kinda fun to play with a new language and people do seem to appreciate your effort for the most part. Not always, but for the most part.

We can talk a little about physical fitness. You don´t have to be a marathon athlete to do this walk. It seemed to me that most people were my age and over. Saw lots and lots of retired folks. It makes sense though doesn´t it, who has 6 weeks to do this thing? So there were people of varied physical ability that seemed to do just fine. It would help to be a little in shape of course. This isn´t a straight path walk. There are a lot of very steep up and down days, sometimes the path is asphalt, sometimes you are walking on cobblestone or rough, rocky roads for hours. There is the weather to contend with. We didn´t have any rain save for one day...but there were days when it was very hot and we were walking in open land, no shade, for hours.

And you´re carrying all your stuff with you on your back for 5-8 hours a day. Some people who weren´t able to pack around like this used a transport service that would carry their luggage from one town to the next and they would just hike with a small daypack. It didn´t seem like this was prohibitively expensive and I saw lots of people doing it. So that´s an option too.

And you don´t have to do all 5 or 6 weeks either. A lot of people do one week a year and work it down that way. For my money, if I only had a week, I would do the last five days into Santiago, through Galicia and then on to Finisterre. These were really just primo walking days, really pretty, very sweet.

And if you want to do this, there is ample, ample literature out there. People have been writing about walking this trail since it´s inception a thousand years ago. There are tons of guide books out there as well. I used John Brierley´s Camino de Santiago, which was wonderful and small and amazingly accurate. There is also a terrific website by the Confraternity of St. James with all kinds of info. You can go to www.csj.org.uk and check them out.

You know, I loved this adventure, it was wonderful and exciting and hard and fun. The Spanish country is gorgeous and I loved seeing it this way. And I´m sitting here talking to you like I´m done, but I´m leaving tomorrow for Santiago and then I´m off again to do the Camino Portuguese for my final three weeks here. I was going to hook up with Peter and Kinga, but it seems we´re on different wavelengths so it doesn´t look like that´ll be happening. I toyed with the idea of going back to Sanilles, but I think I should stick with my original plan. The Portugese Camino is a little daunting, ´cause it isn´t as well set up...I don´t speak any Portuguese and I don´t have a map at this point.

Woo-hoo!

So, we´ll see how that goes. So let me just tell you that I don´t know when I´ll be able to contact you all again. I will when I can for sure. I leave tomorrow morning on the bus and will be in Santiago tomorrow night and that´s all I know.

But...I love you guys and will talk to you soonly.

The Camino

2008-10-12T07:27:00.000-07:00

Just got done walking out to the lighthouse..the spot at the end of the world. Certainly the Romans thought so when they named this place Finisterre...it´s lovely and full of the life energy that only the sea seems to bring to a place.

There is so much I want to say about thse past several weeks, and I´ve been thinking in my head of how to phrase all of it. And now, as I sit down to write about it I don´t know where to begin.

I think the last two weeks of walking was when things really started to gel for me as far as things coming to the surface and working themselves out in the pace of my walking. Sometimes I felt, in the distances and struggle I was putting on my body, that I was trying to wrench out of my muscles the oldest of pains, letting them sweat themselves out of my pores. I was only mildly successful.

But I think, the greatest gift this time has given me has been the knowledge that it´s not my struggles that are at my foundation. It seems that for the longest time, years and years, I´ve felt that my inner demons have been at the very core of my being. That my sadness of the way "things are" for me has kept me low, kept me from really enjoying this life that´s been handed to me.

And I´ve found that´s simply not true.

A few days ago, walking through the deep green woods of the Galician valleys, I was coming out of a place of tremendous sadness. Some of you know me in this, that place I can go. But on this morning, there were lambs and cows and magpies and crows. There was an autumn breeze and creekwaters flowing over ebony rocks. There was sunlight and dew and an earthen path to walk along. And it struck me that it´s not pain that makes up my being, but gratitude. I say this because even though I was feeling sadness, I realized that everytime I can moan about my travails, what brings me out of it consistently is thanks for the very place that I am. I´m glad I can feel these things, because it tells me that I can feel. I think those of us in recovery know that our past abuse of drugs or alcohol or food or what-have-you is directly linked to trying to blot out anything painful, anything hard, anything at all. And for me, I spent years in a daze...years.

And here I was, working on completing a life´s dream, to walk this particular path. And I was doing it sober and without much physical concern. Certainly I was sore, and I was tired...but my legs worked, my shoulders held my pack, I was breathing fine, I had no blisters. In fact, I made this entire camino without any physical injury. No blown knees or shin splints, no twisted ankles, no illness. I was luckier than many of my compatriots in this way and I am thankful for it. The journey was hard enough, I can´t imagine having to do it in the kind of physical pain some of my friends had to contend with.

So, you know...I´m not saying I´m never gonna be laid out by my sadder emotions. I don´t think we ever fully "get rid of" core issues that we come into this world with. But I think we can find ways to treat them differently for ourselves. And I feel, that for now anyway, when I am struck with some of what hurts me so, I know there´s a deeper truth there, and that´s a fine gift.

And there´s really nothing wrong with sadness. Like joy, these emotions will come and go - but it´s how we act these feelings out that can make a difference. And so, we´ll see where all this takes me in the end.

That morning was funny too because as I was thinking all of this, I came around the corner and I saw this man. He was pulling his suitcase, you know on one of those rolling wheely things. And, this particular stretch of road was so not cut out for that...it was full of big rocks, it was steep and he was really struggling with it. It kept twisting on him and tipping and I was thinking, "man, he has really made life difficult for himself there."

And I started to laugh because here was the perfect visual to how life can be for me when I hate my station in it. When I get to beating myself up with this and that. You´re alone, you´re not good-looking "enough", you suck. You know, whatever...this is it, isn´t it? Wrenching along baggage (literally!) that wasn´t designed for the road we´re on. It was great.

And I know some of you out there are wondering if I stopped to help this guy. You who are nicer than me are thinking this. And the answer is no, I didn´t. Said good morning to him though. And I´ll likely spend another couple hundred years in purgatory for that, but...it´s done now.

One of the hospitaleros (and I´ll talk about some of the ins and outs of the camino in my next post) I was talking to told me that the Camino should be walked alone because it´s a journey we should take to "fall in love with ourselves and the Spirit who guides us." I thought this was a truly lovely way to talk about the pilgrimage and have spent some time thinking about whether or not this ended up being true for me.

Hard to say. I don´t think I´ll ever fall in love with myself. I like myself better every year and get more comfortable in my own skin, but love? Some things, yes I love about myself. I love that I can write because I love doing it so much, and I look forward to continue working on it so that I can just get better and better at it. To this end I know now that I need to make my way in this world as a writer, I may live a hard scrabble existence...but it´s what I want to do.

And I definitely have a greater sense that I´m not walking in this world alone, that I do have a Higher Power that helps me along the way. I don´t always listen, and I don´t always trust...I´m truly human in that, but I think I listen better and trust more than when I left France.

There was too much along the way that showed me proof of that. The shephard in the Pyranees, some of the people I met, some of the difficulties and solutions that came out of them. Even just a couple of days ago, heading into Santiago I had the thought that it would be nice to celebrate this event with friends, and I got a little sad that I didn´t arrange to meet anyone there. I didn´t want to spend the night alone.
And as I walked through the city a woman came up to me and asked if I needed a place to stay..turns out she rents beds in her house for little money, and it was the perfect place to land. And as I was leaving her house, having dropped off my backpack and feeling a less burdened, I ran into my friend Pepe, who travelled with Carlos and Angel. We hugged joyfully and he told me that he was meeting them for dinner at 6:00 and I should come and share a celebratory meal with them.

And so I did, and it was a lovely night full of laughter and the sense of a thing accomplished together.

It was truly a beautiful journey.

And so...there it is. I´m sure I´ll write more about it in time. Next time I post I´ll talk a little bit about the specifics of it...that kind of stuff is fun for me to write. Not so gushy...and may be helpful if any of you are considering taking this pilgrimage yourself.

Alright my loves, I´m off to dinner now with this woman from Germany. She started on the same day I did and seen each other from time to time along the way. I just ran into her this morning, so we´ll get to relax a bit now and enjoy sharing stories from the road.

Descanso

2008-10-12T01:46:00.000-07:00

So, here I am in Finisterre, an absolutely lovely little fishing village. When I woke up this morning from my room on the third floor, the sun was straining through the morning clouds, sending beams down onto the fishing boats moored in the bay. I could´ve been in Depot Bay, or Trinidad; with the seagulls sounding off their sweet whistly calls I felt right at home. And so, I went downstairs and asked the lady if I could stay for two more nights and there you have it.

I could´ve slept all morning. When I was in Santiago I was talking with a woman who was finished with her walk, and she told me that when her body finally understood that it could really rest, she just crashed. And that´s about how I´m feeling right now.

If you like sheer numbers, here´s a couple for you.

The mileage from St. Jean Pied de Port, France to Finisterre, Spain is 549.8 miles. And I walked all of that, every step, except for about the six miles leading into Leon. Both my guidebook and a guy who had walked that stretch before, told me it was dangerous, along the freeway and not much fun. So I took a bus into town. So, let´s say I walked 543 miles total, just to keep it honest.

It took me 41 days, with 3 or 4 rest days thrown in there. I don´t know what the average time is, it doesn´t really matter. It is what it is. I was walking around 15 to 20 kilometers a day for the first half of the walk, and then really ramped it up towards the end and was pushing 30-35 for probably 10 days or so without taking any days off. Just kind of got to moving and didn´t want to stop and my body was used to the movement and enjoyed (well..enjoy) going all day. Let´s say actually that my mind liked being out all day, and my body just kind of had to tag along with it.

And now I´m done and trying to put it all together. How was it, did I like it, did I learn anything...was it fun?

Certainly, walking into Santiago was something. I usually really disliked walking into the cities, the outskirts were industrial areas or suburbs, and they were generally not very pretty and uncomfortable, sloggy for walking. But, going into Santiago felt different, just because it was.

That morning I crested Monte Gorzo, which was pretty much the last green site we would see. At the top was a beautiful modern sculpture, paying homage to the pilgrimage. There was a lovely little altar there, a small church where pilgrims could offer their thanks and prayers. There were about 30 people milling about, taking pictures and getting ready to walk the last 8 kilometers into the city. We were a pretty jubilant bunch really.

As I made my way towards the cathedral I ran into some folks I had met the day before, "you only have about a kilometer left! We just got our Compostela!"

The Compostela is a piece of paper declaring that you have completed the pilgrimage, you get it from the pilgrim´s office at the end of your journey and need to present your pilgrim´s "passport" to verify that you have really walked the miles.

In truth, you only need to walk 100 kilometers or cycle 200 to receive your Compostela, but it feels nice to have received it for going the distance. Oh, and the "passport" is this little booklet that we all carry around. You get a stamp at every alburgue you stay in. A lot of restaurants and churches and shops all have their own stamp, so you can really go nuts if you want to with the stamps. It didn´t really appeal to me all that much, surprisingly...I got them when I checked into places, and at a few churches, but..I don´t know, they´re kinda cool I suppose. Anyway...

So I walked down these streets, the old narrow winding streets of Spain. I couldn´t get all those pilgrims past out of my head. When they first saw the spires of the cathedral from the outskirts of the city...what did they think? I know I was pretty delighted, not that it was over necessarily...but that it exists, this camino, this way; for the millions of people who have made this journey with their own little heart´s desires and piety and penance. It touched me.

And so I´m walking down the cobblestoned streets and I turn a corner and there it was.

Building started on this Shrine to St. James in 1075, and is still being worked on, preserved, restored, in some places. It really is an amazing structure.

Whelp you guys...look, I hate to end there, but I only have 4 minutes left on this machine and there are other people waiting to use it. I´ve been on for an hour now anyway. But, I´ll be back..let you know how my time went in Santiago..I ran into my old friend´s Carlos and Angel which was a blast.

So...I´ll be back.

7 minutes...

2008-10-11T10:15:00.000-07:00

Hey guys, I´m super-tired right now, so it´s fine that I only have seven minutes to post.

I can tell you that I reached Finisterre about an hour ago and have a nice little room facing the ocean...it´s in a rooming house run by a nice old lady, her husband is repairing his fishing net in the large living room. It´s cheap, and I´ll probably stay here two or maybe even three days and relax, sit on the beach and not walk ANYWHERE.

Well, I will be going out to the lighthouse, another 3.5 K from here, the true "end of the world." But I´ll do that tomorrow.

I will also spend some time writing to you guys tomorrow, rent this computer for an hour or so and tell you how this has all been. I can´t believe I´ve finished this walk...feels good, I feel good. My body is really tired and has been struggling the last three days, but it´ll recover just fine I figure.

Okay, gotta go pay this lady and take a shower. I´m a mess.

lots of love.

Okay, I have 12 minutes

2008-10-07T10:22:00.000-07:00

I am 19 kilometers from Santiago tonight. I think that´s about 12 miles, maybe less, so I will be entering this grand city tomorrow in the early afternoon.

It rained gatos and perros on us walkers this morning and so...I´m kind of soggy, but my clothes are "drying" on a line outside this little hostel. I know they have dryers here in Spain, but man are they hard to come by, everything seems to dry by hanging on the line. It´s not raining at the moment, but the sun is pretty much down; so my clothes are more or less just kind of hanging there, assuming the drying position, but I´m not sure how much dampness is truly being removed.

My spirits are mostly good, I´m pretty excited about finally reaching Santiago. You know, this has been one of those things I´ve wanted to do for so many years that it´s a little surreal at this point, not quite sure how I´m feeling really. Just taking it by the moment.

Kathleen and Carrie both asked when I´ll be back in the states and I can´t remember if I answered that in the last blog. So, if I did..oh well, here it is again. I touch down in Portland on November 12th in the early evening. I´ll be visiting the Bay Area probably some time right after Thanksgiving so I hope a visit with Carriefoot and P.J. can happen around that time if they are around?

Okay, my time is almost up, and I need to head back upstairs and take a shower. Dinner is happening in about a half and hour so I want to try to at least be somewhat clean so I can feel okay about joining someone for dinner.

Hope to talk to you soon. It seems the closer I get to Santiago, the more internet places are available, so I´ll try to keep you up to date. Lots of love.

I know it´s been awhile....

2008-10-06T03:38:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone, sorry I haven´t written lately...there´s a couple reasons for that.

1) I´ve actually had kind of a hard time finding a computer I can use for more than 15 minutes. It´s tough to write a blog in that short a period of time, so I usually don´t.

2) I´ve been moving at a pretty rapid pace this last week, about 30-35 kilometers a day. So I don´t really do too much except get up, walk and take breaks to eat. I´m on the road about 9-10 hours a day and by the time I get to my stay place I pretty much just shower and crash.

Why am I moving so fast? Kinda want to get done with at least the Santiago portion of the trip. I´ve been on this particular path now for over a month and it´s getting to me a little bit. It´s very crowded with other pilgrims, particularly the closer we get to Santiago, and it´s just kind of a grind. I LOVE the walking part of my day, this part of Spain (I´m in Galicia) is absolutely gorgeous; but having to find a place to stay, do laundry, etc...it´s getting a little tiring in the midst of so many other people doing the same thing.

3) I´ve stopped staying in alburgues where the computers generally are. It´s been to cold now to sleep outside, so I´ve taken to paying a little extra money and staying in fondas or pensions or hostels. I figure the amount of money I´m saving by moving as fast as I am and the fact that I get a really good nights sleep is worth the cost.

4) And lastly, I went through a period last week where I was feeling a little....uninspired, kinda blue and I didn´t want to labor you guys with all of that. But, things have passed through a bit and I´m on a bit of an upswing.

So anyway...I´ve only got a few minutes left and I need to send another email so I´ll sign off. The current plan is that I will be in Santiago on Wednesday the 8th and finish up in Finisterra (literally, the "end of the world") on the 11th. From there I´m not sure what I´m doing. At some point I´m hooking up with Peter, Kinga and maybe Susannah who would like to celebrate my birthday with me. I also want to do a portion of the Portuguese trail, but I may abbreviate this a bit with the train or the bus. I think my body is ready for a little break.

So..on that note...let me wish all my fellow October birthday folks a happy one...Regan (whose birthday is today, actually), Carriefoot on the 10th, Chaela my sweet friend on the 16th and my lovely brother Jake celebrates his 22nd birthday on the 29th (how the hell did that happen!). So, Happy Birthday to you all! I´m sure I forgot some folks in there (I know my friend Julia is also an October girl, but I can´t remember the date).

Lots of love to you all...I think of you a lot out here and hope you are all well and happy.

Well, I was really hoping to give you guys some photos...

2008-09-19T06:21:00.000-07:00

I found a little computer place, but they don´t have ports for downloading photos - so I´m sorry about that. I am staying at a hotel here in Burgos and there is a computer in the lobby that I can use for a 1/2 hour at a time, but I don´t know if there is photo capability there either. So, you´ll just have to be a little patient.

I did write a couple of little essays for you to read if you like. And there are two random pictures below from a fairly boffed attempt at a computer shop five days ago in Najera.

How I´m doing? Thanks so much for asking.

I´m doing alright. The body´s holding up okay and my spirits are mostly good. I am still very much enjoying walking everyday and the countryside continues to bless me with some stunning landscape. As we move west I am getting to see the tail-end of the wildflowers; which had already folded their petals for the year where I was in the east.

Having a bit of a rough time at night, have stayed in some lovely, mellow alburgues where I get to sleep outside and they are not very crowded...but every evening is a bit of a challenge for me, so that´s getting a little old.

I´m about 19 days from Santiago at this point (barring rest days), couldn´t tell you the actual mileage, but it´s 475 kilometers away, so you´ll have to do your own math on that one. It´s less miles, I know that.

That´s kind of a fun little thing in that the days are laid out in kilometers, "man we have 24 kilometers to go today!" But in my guidebook they´ve been translated into miles, which psychologically works in my favor (24 works out to about 14 miles I think...something like that).

The Spanish continues to come along. I don´t get so shy in shops anymore. The way things are set up here pretty much forces you to use it. Today I wanted lunch, but I didn´t want to eat in a restaurant. So I had to go to the Fruteria to get some fruit and vegetables.

And you can´t just go in and wander around and pick pears and oranges out, touch melons. You can´t touch anything actually. You wait in line and then when your turn comes you tell the (always beautiful) woman what you would like and she picks it out for you. I have learned the names of the fruits and vegetables I generally get, and the women always smile when I try to pronounce the word for orange (naranja). But it´s not a smirky smile, it´s sweet.

So, having gotten my oranges, bananas, tomatoes, what-have-you, I then have to go to the meat guy (almost always a guy, but there are women carneceria shopkeepers...I very rarely see men running fruit shops although there was this one super sweet old guy in Najera who gave me an apricot for free because he thought my pack was too heavy and I deserved a treat.)

Anyway, the meat...okay, roast beef is impossible to find. If you want meat on your sandwich, your getting salami, chorizo or ham. Or canned fish of which they have no end to the variety of here. So you have to order some sliced meat from the meat guy.

Then you go to the panaderia and get your bread, again, you have to point to the one you want and she´ll wrap it in little piece of paper and hand it to you.

And there you go. Lunch. No fast food here. No rush in and rush out with a completed product. If you go to a restaurant for lunch, it´s an hour while you wait for you bread, then your first plate, then your second plate and so on.

It´s a nice system but...carry snacks with you.

Anyway, so I had my lunch in the plaza of the Cathedral, and watched other pilgrims slouch in from their travels. I love rest days. I love walking around without my backpack. It´s just good to take a break.

Anyway, I do hope to catch you up with pictures soon. Very much love to you all, know that I think of you everyday even if I can´t stay in touch regularly!

Sagrado

2008-09-19T05:36:00.001-07:00

I am here in Burgos, one of the big, beautiful cities of the Leon region and spent about an hour at the grand Burgos Cathedral, a pretty stunning piece of art and architecture from the 13th and 14th centuries.

I continue to spend a lot of time in churches on this trip and haven´t tired of strolling through those gargantuan, thick wooden doors and having a twenty-five foot tall, gilded altar revealed to me.

You know, I´m not Catholic, though I was baptized as far as I know (Dad, Sharron, Rebecca?)...so my appeal to these places is not steeped in some sort of religious fervor. I think I´ve mentioned how familiar all this is to me, as if I´ve been in that time period, seeing it through the eyes of a 13th century being and being appropriately struck by it.

But as I was taking a gander at all the various chapels in the Cathedral, checking out the stained glass and trying to peer into tombs, it occured to me that it´s not just this time period that feels familiar.

I get the same sense when I sit in meditation in a Buddhist Temple, or hear Black spirituals, or see wheat sway in a warm breeze. To touch the bark of old oak or the soft, new needles of a fir tree. To feel my feet upon the shoreline of the ocean.

It´s the sacredness of these things that stir me more than perhaps the thing itself. And maybe it´s not that I´ve been here before, in another body, but that the soul itself appreciates what others have found sacred throughout time.

Hard to say of course, and I don´t want to pick it apart too much. Why question to death why one loves anything? Some may argue that my appreciation of this particular religious art negates the historical fact that so many nasty things were done in the name of said faith. Especially here in Spain.

To that I suppose I would say that there you are, human nature at its finest. Doing evil in the name of love.

I was walking a bit with my friend Angel the other day (we had to say goodbye yesterday, sadly...he was fun) and he was asking me why I like sleeping out in the woods. I told him I like being that close to God (he didn´t speak any English, so I didn´t get into my Goddess/Pagan proclivity...no need, the point was made). He said, "Dios es en su corazon. En el arbols, en el cielo, en la terra, si; pero, es muy importante que Dios es en su corazon."

If I spoke better Spanish I would have kidded with him that I lose my connection with my higher power when I have to sleep in a room with twenty snoring people, and that´s another reason I sleep outside...but we left it with our simple conversation. And it gave me something to think about for a time.

Sometimes I think I know what´s sacred and that it´ll always be that way. And then I´ll have a little comeuppance and have to recall the mistake of absolutes.

One of the things I do believe is true is when I get that sense of familiarity, of warmth or of joy in an object, or a vision that these things generally come out of nowhere. They happen in an instance, a little sneak attack of the spirit. And that´s when I know it´s real, that I´ve been touched. If there´s one thing I´ve learned about the Divine it´s that She likes to surprise you.

"Estoy americano"

2008-09-19T03:52:00.000-07:00

I haven´t met many other americans on this trip. I´m not sure if that surprises me or not. Met a couple of women, one from Huntington Beach, the other from Idaho. I understand there is another woman from Portland about a day behind me named Janice, but we haven´t crossed paths yet.

It´s okay that there aren´t a lot of folks from the States here. I get enough time with them back home. It has made me a little bit of an anomaly on the trail, as well as becoming a debunker of myths about American culture.

Myth # 1: Wide Open Spaces

No matter who I´m talking to, whether they are from Finland or Italy, Germany or Japan...everyone seems to have this idea that our country is one big open road with nothing but empty landscape to be seen for miles.
"I think of American highway as straight line only, maybe nice for driving car...but not for motorcycle." This from a young guy from Italy who seemed to feel sad that all American drivers had no curves to wrap around. When I told him that no, really, we have curvy roads there...he seemed almost incredulous.

Most people know us from television shows, so it kinda surprises me that they think this since most of the shows that are shown here take place in cities. And in fact, New York seems to be the one place that everyone wants to go to. I met a woman from Finland who had planned a lifelong trip to New York city only to have it fall three months after 9-11. I asked her how that was for her, and she said the city was still beautiful and she loved the people, who she said were welcoming and kind and it gave her an interesting perspective on the city. They were going to cancel their trip, but were glad they didn´t. Me too.

Myth #2: Good think we have all that wide open space

"I understand that everyone in America is very fat, is this true?"

You wouldn´t believe how much I hear this. Other than the straight highway thing, it´s the one aspect of our country that people really enjoy talking about. In fact, it makes a little more sense to me, this sense we have this vast landscape. How else would we negotiate moving around without knocking each other over with our gordo-ness. So we talk about this, and the fact that our diet, which is to blame, is lurching its way across the ocean and turning everyone in Europe into gluttons. It´s always our fault, somehow.

No, I say, we are not all fat. Yes, we have a serious problem with obesity and there are all kinds of factors that go along with that. Sorry about McDonald´s coming to your country. Stop buying Big Macs.

Myth #3: What else is worth fighting for?

I was actually the most taken aback by the notion that everyone here seems to think the entire country not only wholeheartedly supports the Iraq war, but that we all stand behind Bush in that effort. This one was fairly easy for me to quell, and I was more than happy to do so. I haven´t met any Bush fans, from any country, and all are curious as to who I want to vote for and what the outcome of our election will be. I do find it telling that everyone I´ve talked to knows the names John McCain and Barack Obama. Even if they don´t speak English, they know these guys and kinda sort of what they stand for. Here´s a question for you; quick...name the leader of Spain. Norway? Any idea what their politics are? Democracy, monarchy...hmmm?

Yea, me neither. Kind of embarrassing. But it makes sense doesn´t it. If Norway was running around being a superpower...we´d know, wouldn´t we? Who´s the leader of China?

Yeah.

But, in all this conversation I haven´t met anyone who flat out doesn´t like Americans. In fact, most people are delightfully curious about the States. Most want to visit some day. My friend Carlos, who was sent to study business in the U.S. for eight months, has a lot of respect for us. He spend 4 months in Houston, and 4 in San Francisco.

"Jeez, could they have sent you to two more different cities?"

"Yes, it was...San Francisco, this was heaven. And Houston? How do you say..."

"Ummm...hell?"

"Yes, this it the word." (oh, sorry Kristie)

Carlos said one of the things he likes about the U.S. is that we are "the land of dreams, I believe this to be true." It sounds like such an old world statement, but he really felt that way.

"This is why your country is great. If I am from, Pakistan, and I come to United States and say, 'I am good with math,' you will say, 'good, we will help you become a success.' If I am from Pakistan and come to Spain and say this, we will say, ´who the hell do you think you are?' This is the difference between our countries. You believe in the individual and helping that individual. This is better.

It´s an interesting perspective, but I appreciated it. He also really liked our diversity. I mean really, 300 million people live in the States and I bet you we have representatives from every nation in the world there. It´s kind of cool really.

Anyway, I´ve been here 6 weeks now and enjoy these conversations with people. The best part is that I´ve gotten over any sort of American guilt I showed up with and no longer flinch when someone asks me where I come from. No need for that.

while I´m waiting for pictures to come up...

2008-09-15T04:21:00.000-07:00

Hey guys, I actually wrote this post about a week ago, but it never posted. I´m in Burgos on a rest day. I am hoping to get more stuff up here at some point today. This is a fairly lame post, and some how two pictures got lost between computers. Blast it. Anyway, I´ll talk to you all soonly...

I am on an amazingly slow computer, and I only have 30 minutes before this place
goes siesta, so you´ll be lucky to get two photos on this run. Hey, there´s one...

remember I was telling you about these bricks that built this 900 year old bridge? I think I told you...coulda just been in my head. Anyway, here´s a close-up of one of them. Neato, eh?

Here´s me with Hugh and Peter and Kinga so you could see what Hugh looks like...

I have a couple hundred photos by now...and as I´m trying to rush through this, it occurs to me that I really don´t know what you would like to see. I have a lot of pictures of roads, of church edifices and some fairly odd self-portraits of me. I will show you these sparingly.

I´m having a good day today. Only had to bunk with one person last night in a room, and even though she snored, I was able to get at least 6 hours of sleep. I´m about 90minutes away from my goal today...keeping it fairly simple and am only gonna do 14 miles today. I could push on a little more, but there´s no need.

I was thinking this morning that you may be wondering just what the hell do I think about all day out there on the road? I´m usually walking, or at least on the way for 8-10 hours a day. And I´ve made a few acquaintances, but I haven´t really kept up with them, or I´´ve left them behind. This trip so doesn´t seem about making friends for me.

I suppose I think a lot about what´s coming next. I have no idea. I think about things I want to write about, articles and such. I think about future travel. You know, this kind of stuff. Nothing earth shattering. Nothing really profound. Basic human stuff.

Okay...out of time.

What town is this?

2008-09-14T07:07:00.000-07:00

They are starting to blur, like the days. I´ve been thinking it´s Saturday all day today, but it´s not...it´s Sunday. Doesn´t really matter out here.

I´m in a tiny village called Azofra, just outside of Najera, about 70 miles from Burgos. You all know where that is, right?

Had a stupid, stupid day yesterday and walked 40 kilometers. That´s like 25 miles or something insane like that. I´ve been just wanting to move these last couple of days and so did 30 kms the day before. At any rate, the 40 nearly killed me, but I couldn´t stop as there were no good camping places and I needed to get to the next town.

When I got there I discovered that the alburgue was full and so I had to pace around the town with my pack and look for somewhere to sleep. Don´t try this at home. Or abroad. I haven´t worked myself out that bad in awhile. And it´s not like I didn´t recover, but when you are that kind of haggard, you can make stupid mistakes like lose your wallet or your passport or go home with the first person who asks if you need a place to stay. This is okay when you are in the middle of the countryside (for some reason, I think), but not so good in a city.

I stumbled into an elegant hotel looking anything but, and the kindly barkeep told me their cheapest room was 100 euros. Mmmmm, no thanks. But she did direct me down the street to a place.

I found it and a character standing outside and I asked him in my worst possible Spanish if they had any rooms. He actually gave me the "once over," and said, "¿solo?"

"Si, para una solo."

And then he looked up and down the street, nodded his head and said, "vamos."

It all felt very cloak and dagger. And then I remembered that I just saw a group of older, less worn looking pilgrims just leaving him, and he didn´t let them in, so I felt sort of good about looking seedy enough to be let into this place.

And it turned out to be not seedy at all. I was just the right kind of people I suppose. I got a room, dinner and breakfast for 25 euros. My room was tiny, but it had a sink and a tv. There was a shared bath down the hall which I immediately went to and drew the hottest bath I could muster and soaked my aching feet, calves and shoulders.

I mean really, to treat my poor body this way after how good it´s been to me this past year. Criminal. So I tried to repair it the best way I knew how. I did a little self-massage and had some calcium-magnesium. And then, even though I didn´t want to, I went downstairs (ouch) for dinner.

When I got into town I was so depleted that I went to the first shop I found and bought an orange soda, a chocolate croissant and two bananas and gobbled them all down like...you know that scene in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (gene wilder version) when Charlie gets to eat a chocolate bar with some money he found in the street? The way he hoovers that thing down? That´s how I ate this stuff. In the shop. Causing the shopkeeper to pointedly raise his eyebrows at me. Didn´t care. I never travel without sustenance. I don´t know what was wrong with me yesterday.

Anyway, I hobbled down the stairs to dinner (a more pathetic sight you will never see) and tried to choose something that would do some good. It was another one of those "menu of the day" things where you could choose from 4 or 5 dishes for your first and second courses.

I chose pasta for energy for the next day, and steak to build back some muscle I very likely damaged. I also got chocolate mousse for dessert because even though I was stupid, I shouldn´t be sent to bed without dessert. C´mon.

After my meal I wobbled back upstairs, watched about 15 seconds of televsion and fell into the deepest sleep I have experienced on this trip and probably didn´t move for the next 9 hours. Twas good. Needed it.

I don´t sleep well in these alburgues as you can well imagine, and I hadn´t really slept at all the night before, couple of hours maybe. So, I was due.

Anyway, I took it easy on myself today. Only walked about 17 kms. Slowly. My body was surprisingly unsore and carried me well. It´s so good.

I´m in a pleasant little albuerge, sharing a room with one other person, a lovely woman from Dublin. And I´ll be keeping a fairly mellow pace for the next three or four days until I reach Burgos where I will be taking a day off.

Anyway, need to deal with my wet clothes now, take a shower and get ready for dinner. I still love being out here, walking. I walked all day through grape vines, as this is the premier wine-growing region of Spain. And no, I won´t be sampling any of that. Oh, check this out, there was even a free "wine font" yesterday. Seriously, like all the water fonts along the way, this one distributed wine. Can you imagine?
I´ll show you a picture of it when I get the next opportunity.

Love you guys...think of you ALL the time.

okey doke...as promised...here´s a few pics

2008-09-12T03:10:00.000-07:00

Well, leave it to me to find a public library in the middle of Spain. I don´t have a lot of time to comment on these, so I´m just gonna put 'em up here and write about them later. Okay?
This one I took up on the ridge between France and Spain as I´m crossing the Pyrenees. This was taken the morning after I slept in that barn. Look how happy I am!

Oh, and these are going to be really randomly placed, ´cause I am pressed for time. Here´s my buddy Miguel. The sweetheart.

While I´m waiting for more pictures to post (it´s taking a really long time per picture) I can tell you that I am in the town of Estella, and it´s pretty bustling! I´m not in a huge hurry today, will probably only walk twelve miles. I am heading to the town of Villa Monjardin (!!!) to spend the night. It´s only about another 3 hours walk from here. I may press on to Los Arcos. We´ll see how I feel. It´s pretty windy and chilly out, so I will likely spend another night in the alburgue instead of camping.

Okay, this picture thing isn´t working very well on this computer, so this may be all you get for now. Me and Miguel.

Oop, here´s another one, this was taken outside a church in Pamplona. This statue is about 800 years old. I was talking with a German woman (new friend Victoria) and she was telling me that she thinks it´s funny that Americans are so fascinated with old things, ´cause here in Europe they´re so used to seeing them. I am fascinated with them. Think they´re cool.

Oh yay...here´s Peter and Kinga. How cute are they? Love these guys a lot. We had such a blast together, and they have got some great stories over theír travels in the world. Peter´s adventure aboard, well two adventures involving travel by train in India still have me laughing out loud when I think of them. Hope to see these guys again before I take off.

This is one of the Gaudi buildings, one of his more famous ones that I can´t remember the name of now, in Barcelona. Wild, ain´t it?

Okay, what else can I tell you? Mmmm, how about the alburgues? I´ve only stayed in three of them so far, having camped out the other nights I´ve been on the road. Some are private and have only 15 or so beds. Some are massive, with 100 beds. I will stay away from those.

Last night´s stay was actually really nice. They are cheapish, anywhere from 5-8 euros. They offer a cheapish meal for about the same price. Last night I was in a room with only 4 other people, which was great, and two of them I had dinner with, so it felt okay... oh, here´s another photo...

mmm...so, they have these signs posted for the walkers so we can know where we´re going. This one cracked me up because it´s so big...a lot of times there are just small yellow arrows painted on the ground and you have to really look for them. This one was like "HEY!! HEY THIS WAY!!"

Here´s another marker, up about nine feet on a building...this one´s more like it.

Here´s one more, you can get lost if you´re not paying attention. Do you see this one? Lots of times the locals will redirect a wayward pilgrim if they´re going the wrong way, which is right nice of ´em.

Okay...gonna have to sign off now...I´ve been here an hour and need to keep moving along. I´ll try to get more photos up for you in the next couple of days. Don´t libraries rock?

Here´s one last one...me looking out over the Pyrenees. Love you guys.

Day six...or maybe seven

2008-09-11T23:08:00.001-07:00

Hello all...I am getting ready to leave an alburgue here in Lorca, one of the last villages in the Basque country. The walking has been incredibly beautiful. Travelling on footpaths through gardens and farmlands; or on cobblestone paths over hills, through towns, over mountains. Yesterday I walked on a road built by Romans 2000 years ago. It´s amazing to stare down at these rocks and think about the hands that put them there.

A couple of days ago, going into Pamplona I crossed a 900 year old bridge. The bricks had these little marks in them. Some criss-crossing, some diagonal hatching. I wondered if these were put in by the brickmakers, sort of an individual marking system. I thought about the guys who laid these down, and what they might think of someone using their stones nearly 1000 years later to walk on. And what would they think of all the hustle and bustle and ipods and fancy backpacks.

Anyway, I am one sore puppy, but I am managing to walk about 12-14 miles a day. The pack has gotten a little lighter and I am getting stronger by the day. I probably won´t walk much more than 15 miles a day, ´cause I don´t really need to ... I think that´s plenty.

Anyway, need to get on the road. I´m sorry I wasn´t able to post pictures...I couldn´t find that place again in Pamplona and I needed to get the hell out of the city. It was too hot and too loud and crowded. I much prefer the quiet of these country paths.

Had dinner with a couple of fun people last night, woman from Germany (!!! Hi Jutta !!!) and a guy from Spain. We laughed a lot, mainly due to our bad Spanish. I actually spoke more Spanish than Veronica, but she speaks five languages fluently, including Persian and Croatian, so I´ve got nothing on her.

Anyway, lots and lots of love to you guys. Am taking a rest day in Burgos, about 3 days away. It´s a bigger city so maybe I can try the computer thing again.
Thanks for your sweet comment Carriefoot...and speaking of Kid, I am so glad he is moving to Ashland! A mini-reunion will have to take place!

Okey doke. I´m stalling. I´m sore. I´m having a great time.

Pamplona

2008-09-09T04:07:00.000-07:00

Howdy....found this little internet place that is cheapish. Best news is that they have a port I can download pictures on. Don´t know if I can do it yet, don´t have the cable with me, but I´m gonna try tomorrow so I can finally get some friggin´ pictures to you guys. That´d be swell wouldn´t it?

So...I am taking the day off the road to be a tourist here in Pamplona and to rest my bones for a day. It´s nice to walk around town with just my day pack on (rest of my gear is in my hotel room). I feel like a normal person...as normal as I can possibly be considering.

It´s been a wonderful last few days. Walking through the Basque country, I´ve stayed the night outside a stunning church in Ronscevalles (I couldn´t handle sleeping in a dorm with 120 people), found a nice little spot in the woods in a pine forest outside Zubrick and last night hiked into the little village of Huerta, just outside Pamplona.

I stayed the night at a pilgrim´s hostel that was ridiculously under-utilized, lucky for me. I had a dorm room set for 10 all to myself. In fact, there were only 7 other pilgrims staying there, I was the only woman and therefore had pretty much all the facilities to myself. Bonus. The place was really clean, had nice hot showers and a laundry room with free soap and a place to hang stuff you washed by hand. Where were all these hostels on the Walk?

The laundry facility was especially great because everything I owned still had a lingering sheepy odor from my night in the barn outside St. Jean´s. I´m pretty friendly and can be downright charming when I want to...but no one is gonna make friends with someone that smells like wet hooves and wool. I want to kinda keep to myself on this trip...but not because no one wants to talk to "that sheep girl."

So far though, people have put up with me enough to let me know they´re from Italy and Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands, Japan, Canada, Scotland and even someone from California. It´s lovely to hear so many languages in one place, it makes me feel not so lonesome somehow.

My Spanish is coming along, I can pretty much get what I need from any shopkeeper. The post office lady was super nice this morning, and so was the woman at the "fruteria." Had a little difficulty trying to get pictures printed off my camera, but no blows were exhanged so it worked out okay.

Need to sign off for now, but I´m gonna come back here tomorrow (if I can find it) and try to show you some photos of the last couple of weeks. I miss you all, but know that I keep all your little faces close to my heart and in my mind...no doubt one of you makes me smile at some point during the day. Love you lots.

Oh, by the way...I got an offer from a travel company (from Singapore no less) that is interested in advertising on this sight. I´m not gonna do anything until I get home and can research this kind of stuff... but what do you think about that? Any thoughts?

Okay, talk to you tomorrow.

accelerated post

2008-09-06T07:49:00.000-07:00

I have like, 8 minutes on this computer (they charge you for it...) so I am going to give a fast-paced account of my last three days.

Got into St. Jean on Friday evening and stayed the night at a hostel in this crazy great ladies home, it was full of incense and cigarette smoke, cats and rabbits and her 12 year old son.

Hiked out late the next day and got myself stuck up in the Pyrenees in some insane wind. My walker family can relate to this wind, it was definitely like the wind in the desert, remember Desert Rock? It was like that, only a couple of degrees more, I had to use my walking stick on more than one occasion to keep from getting blown over. I took shelter in this little cinder block three-sided structure the shepherds use. At one point I went to find a better spot to maybe camp in and, I swear to God, the wind picked me up and knocked me on my ass. I decided I would try to sleep in the little structure anyway, got my bag unfolded...and it started to rain.

Had a bit of a panic, packed up, hoofed it back onto the road and saw a shepherd in his little truck. I motioned towards the farm and asked if I could stay in the barn. As it turns out, I happened to ask the guy who´s barn it is and he said it was fine.
It was a little sheepy, but it was dry and Dominique, the Basque shepherd (!!!) made me a cup of coffee. He didn´t speak any English, and I didn´t speak any French, but it was all good.

Tonight I am in Ronscevalles. I was going to camp, but it´s cold out, my bones are sore from hiking with a pack, so I´m gonna stay inside, I´m pretty wet and need to dry out. The church here is amazing.

The walk goes through some of the most beautiful country I have ever seen. It´s exactly what I had hoped for.

So far, so good.

Lots of love to everyone...hey Kataleen-san, sorry to hear about your wing there. Hope it´s feeling better.

Leaving Sanilles

2008-09-03T10:02:00.001-07:00

Peter and Kinga will be driving me across the French border tomorrow morning to Lafont du Carol where I´ll be catching a train to Toulose, and then on to St. Jean Pied-de-Port. If all goes well, I should be checking into a hostel with all the other pilgrims Thursday night, and starting my journey towards Santiago on Friday morning.

First stop is Ronscevalles, but I´ll have to cross over the Pyrenees mountain range first. It´s one of the tougher stages of the entire walk, so I´m happy I´ll be putting it behind me on the first day.

But first I leave Sanilles, which has been my home now for three weeks and I´m so grateful I was able to land here and catch my breath before heading. The quiet and the serenity of the woods and the river, the wonderful people who have become my family, all the amazing food I´ve been presented with..it´s all been such a gift.

I want to thank Hugh Coates for providing such a warm and welcoming atmosphere. Miguel for his tireless energy and patience with me. Peter and Kinga for their fast friendship and easy laughter over these days. I´ve also been fortunate to recently meet Susannah, a new volunteer here, and Alexi, who I met in my first days. Permanent residents Emilio and Juanho have also been particularly sweet.

Also want to mention my four-legged friends, el gato Justine, and los perros, Trixie and Bruna (my sentimental favorite), and Jasper, Peter and Kinga´s furry companion. The world is a sweeter place with these beings in the world.

I´ll miss my quiet nights outside the yurt with my evening cup of tea, listening to the owls wake up and chatter to each other. All the little lizards who scurry about, the flickers in the trees, the swallows and the bats; have all provided terrific company and have left me feeling not so lonely.

I have nearly 800 miles to travel over these next ten weeks. So far my body feels okay, my pack has been lightened a little bit and I´m ready to go.

I´ll be taking you all with me, my loved ones.

Short Delay

2008-09-02T02:08:00.000-07:00

My sweet friends Peter and Kinga have returned from their time in Barcelona with family, and therefore I´m gonna hang with them here at Sanilles for a couple of days before I set off. Love those guys.

Thanks everyone for commenting...great to see you there Wako!! And thanks Kat-a-leen-san for sending along that spider news, nice that´s it´s such a positive sign!

It seems there is much internet access along the "camino," so I hope to be able to post frequently.

I think of you all everyday.

love, nik

Barcelona (Part Two)

2008-09-01T06:30:00.000-07:00

So after sitting at the cafe for a little while, sipping my little tiny cup of coffee (I know, I hardly ever drink coffee, but honestly? I was too nervous about having to order tea in Spanish, I was able to handle cafe con leche...which I know is ridiculous, it´s unlikely someone´s going to pull out a gun and shoot me for misprouncing the phrase, "me gustaria te´por favor" - we´re funny, aren´t we?)- I decided to head over to the CaixaForum - a fairly new art space. It was free, which was very cool, and they had a Renassaince exhibit hanging there, which was exciting.

I love the medieval period. Always have. Gothic paintings, Renassaince art...it´s always just felt sort of comfortable and warm to me, despite the frequency of scenes of torture (martyrdom of saints) and beheadings (John the Baptist´s head is always lolling about in some fashion). I kind of like the pained, pious looks of all those depicted, the wierd adult-faced cherubs floating around on-high, and checking out all the different ways Jesus and Mary show up. There was one painting, from the 14th century that had a very concerned-looking Jesus having words with Mary Magdalene, and I swear he was wearing some sort of cowboy hat. I´ve never seen that before. It was something. Cool painting.

In another wing they had a bizarre little exhibit that told the "forgotten" story of the Elf Wars in Spain, a re-telling of a history that has apparantly been erased from our memories. Unbeknownst to many, there were Elf People all around, but they were exterminated. This exhibit had a little movie, an interview with the last surviving member of the Elf Race, and even a faux archeological display of elf ruins - fairly well done. It was interesting in a creepy sort of way.

From the CaixaForum I went to the Barcelona National Museum of Art and saw more Gothic art. I could´ve spent hours in there, just looking out over the city from way up on top of that hill made me realize just how much there was to see. I spent some time listening to a Flamenco guitarist playing for coins outside and watching people pose for pictures. I almost asked someone to take my picture for me, but decided against it. I should´ve just taken pictures of the people who were posing - wonder how that would´ve gone over?

Cruised down the winding hill towards the center of town, a little cat stood there on footbridge, watching me. Found the Barri Gothic cathedral and the long, dark and narrow street that leads up to it. There were pieces of tile art set into the walls, it looked like they were depicting a story, as they were all captioned. I took pictures of all of them, so I´ll have to translate them later. This was probably my favorite place of the day. It was such a tight and narrow alleyway, but it was big enough for a constant flow of foot traffic for the shops that lay tucked into these beautiful old buildings.

I loved that in the midst of all of this art and ancient cathedrals, there were people living in all of these buildings, hanging laundry from the railings, tending to their shops on the street level, talking with their neighbors, old women moving arm and arm down the steet, kids revving around on bikes.

Earlier, I had the fleeting thought of hopping the "tourist" bus, which takes you around to the highlights of the city. I would´ve seen more, but I would´ve missed out on so much that it wouldn´t have been worth it. I wouldn´t have been able to duck down these alleyways and smell cooking from people´s kitchens, or see the men sitting in barber chairs, or hear people talk to each other over the counter at the carneceria. I wouldn´t have been able to linger at the church, and rest my hand on the 400 year old stone edifice, gazing up at the bell tower. I would´ve heard English spoken from loudpspeaker instead of the rush of Catalan and Castillian words vibrating off every wall, from every doorframe and window. In short, I would´ve missed seeing Barcelona.

I spent most of my day like this, just weaving in and out from place to place. Stopping here to listen to street music (New Orleans jazz seems to be a favorite), or resting at a cafe and just sit for a bit, watching.

My last place to visit was Gaudi´s last work, unfinished, the Sagrada Familia church, a massive thing that is still under construction. You should Google this. I went inside and took the lift up into one the spires. It gave me vertigo to look out over the edge, onto the street ridiculously far below, and at the other spires, so near me, several hundred feet off the ground. We had to climb back down the tight, curving staircase, which was equally nervewracking, got a little scared, but it turned out fine. Didn´t have to cause a scene or anything (I think I remember causing a scene on top of a ferris wheel once when I was very young, and they had to bring me back down..I do believe Matt was rocking the car back and forth, scaring the shit out of me), anyway, that didn´t happen.

I was exhausted by the end of it all, but felt like I saw a goodly portion of what I wanted to see and was okay to leave it at this point. When I got to the bus stop at Martinet, Hugh was there to pick me up which was a lovely surprise. I wasn´t looking forward to negotiating that spider again. But guess what...

After shaking out all my bedding back in the yurt and getting everything ready for bed, making sure there were no spiders anywhere, I turned around, just getting ready to switch off the light and there was a big spider on my pillow! A big spider. Jiminy crickets. I scooted it outside. Kathleen, could you look up "Spider" in your medicine cards book and give me the cliff note version of what spider is trying to tell me?

Anyway guys, I´m off tomorrow it looks like...should be in St. Jean Pied de Port tomorrow night and starting my walk on Wednesday. I´ll write you when I can, I think about you all and am so happy you´re out there!

Barcelona (Part One)

2008-08-31T04:41:00.000-07:00

I flew into Barcelona about two and a half weeks ago and barely saw any of the city. I was exhausted from the two plane flights and so could barely register anything other than to figure out how to get the city bus from the airport to the bus station and then up here to Martinet. Sightseeing wasn´t high on my agenda at the moment.

So it was with great excitement that I arranged to have the day off yesterday and take the bus into town to spend the day being a tourist in the great city of Barcelona. In fact, I was so excited about it, that I couldn´t get to sleep. It was really my first big trip and there were things to think about...what was I going to see, how would my Spanish hold up, would I be able to blend in enough to not be immediately targeted for a con or pickpocketing (common crimes here).

I did what I could to prepare of course. I stashed my two forms of identification in different spots, used a money belt, had cash in different places. I had a small tourist map, which featured many of the more popular sites in the downtown area, and I had circled some of the stuff I was interested in and got a general sense of the layout of the city. I think this is so important. This is one of those things that can make me more comfortable, and I´m not standing out there in the middle of the sidewalk with a big 'ol unfurled map, bringing attention to myself. One of the travel tips I´ve gotten is, that if you need to consult your map, fold it as much as possible to the section that you need, you generally don´t need to look at the entire city, just a portion of it. Also, take a look at your map in a cafe or a shop, and not out on the street. I think too, unfortunately, because I´m travelling alone, and because I´m a woman travelling alone, I have to be a little hyper aware of my surroundings. I think this is true for women in general...which is a pretty sad statement, still, about our world.

But probably, more than anything I like to just look like I know where I´m going, even when I´m hopelessly lost. I don´t dawdle around, and I just keep moving. I like to throw in a couple of jaywalking at crosswalks, just to show I´m comfortable with the movement of the city. If I get really lost, I just stop somewhere, buy something to drink and get my bearings. It all seems to work.

Anyway....

Dawn wasn´t even starting to break when I was readying myself to walk down to Martinet and catch the 7am bus to Barcelona. Orion was just setting behind the little hill across the river and the birds hadn´t even woken up yet. It reminded me of those walker days - oh so many moons ago - when we would get up at 4am and be packing before any other stirring of life was taking place.

There was a footpath that led down to the town of Martinet. I had never taken it before, but I knew where it started. I had my head lamp and was looking forward to the walk, there were no bears or mountain lions up here to worry about walking in the dark, and it was likely that any big creatures I encountered would be of the domestically hooved variety.

And boy was I wrong about that.

So I´m about three minutes into my walk. The path is overgrown, but I can still see it, and I´m cruising along, happy as a clam, when WHAMMO!

I am brought up short, my boot digs into the earth to stop myself...and I´m pretty sure I let out yelping, "whooooaa!". After my senses all caught back up with each other I find myself staring at the most gi-normous spider web stretching across the entire pathway, with an equally sizeable host in the center.

Now, ok, I respect spiders. They are really cool beings - but I can´t help it, they give me a little bit of the heebie-jeebies. I never kill them when I find them in my house...and depending on where they are, I´ll just leave ém alone. But I don´t want them crawling on me...and certainly don´t want to walk into the web of one the size of the palm of my hand.

So...I stood there for a minute, letting my heart stop racing, and it occured to me that I had a bit of a problem. Guys, this web was massive, and from the looks of it, there was going to be no way for me to get through it so I could continue on my way. I didn´t want to break it...it was way to cool and beautiful and who was I to destroy someone´s home?

So I started looking at ways to climb around it, probably through the bushes, when I noticed an opening! There was a spot, that if I was careful I could crawl through it, minding my backpack, and get through to the other side without either one of us getting hurt. This I did, and lo and behold, made it through with only a little bit of bouncing on the part of the web. I thanked her for not charging me a toll, and went on my way, and then I thanked the Goddess of all beautiful crawly things that it was nightime and I had a good headlamp. If this had been daylight, I might not have seen this web...as it was, the lamp caught the glistening of the spirals and really lit it up for me. I shook off the thought of what could´ve been and hoped that was the most exciting this walk was going to get for me.

And it was...other than a little mooing and dog barking in the distance, I didn´t come across anything else and soon found myself on the ALSA bus, heading into town, the sun just beginning to rise along the mountains. At one point, the light hit the spire of an old church, way up on top of a hill and I was struck with that feeling that you get sometimes when you are cresting the top of a roller coaster, or you see a bit of nature or art that clearly speaks to you, or someone just brushes their hand across your arm and you realize you´re in love. It´s that kind of sinking, excited feeling that comes in moments of full awareness of life, and that´s what I was experiencing at this moment on the bus. This landscape so unfamiliar, where I was going was unknown, I didn´t speak the language well or know the customs...but I was here and I was giving it a go and I was excited about the whole prospect.

We arrived at the Barcelona Estacion du Nord at just after 9am. I immediately went inside and bought my return ticket (this time was so much easier than the last time I had to do this...and I even had the same gentle soul working the ticket counter!). I would have about eight and a half hours to see as much as I could of this town. I knew that I could spend a week here and not get to everything, so I really just focused on a couple of things.

Mainly, the architecture. I knew that this was the city of Anton Gaudi, the 19th century architect who designed some fantastic structures. I saw one of them from the bus and wanted to get a closer look. I also wanted to see some of the Gothic and Renassaince churches that were all over the place. Just don´t have those in the states.

I had also heard about the CaixaForum and wanted to see that. Wanted to get to the Barcelona Museum of Art, and just poke around in the small city streets of downtown. I didn´t plan on seeing too many specific things, ´cause that would´ve been pure frustration and rushing about. I needed to keep things pretty loose if I was to enjoy my time.

First things first was to find some food. I had eaten a Nuttela (my new favorite food) sandwich before getting on the bus and I was ready to eat something a little more substantial. But...I admit to being nervous. I was about to enter shops and try to order something, and it´s nerve wracking. I decided to do a little gentler approach and go into an actual market and buy a few things for the day, which ended up being pretty fun.

The market was fairly small, but it was stocked with tons of stuff. Think of a good-sized corner store and that was the size of this place. But it had a couple of guys stocking shelves, a meat counter, two check-out lanes and American pop music on the speakers.

I got myself a baguette (still warm), some camembert cheese, salami and sardines. Figured that would totally hold me for the day and it only cost me five euros (about $8.00). I basic bocadillo sandwich would´ve cost me two to three euros, so I was saving some cash there.

However...I still needed some caffeine and for that I would have to brave actually ordering something from a human. I tried to remember what Gwen tells me all the time, "they´re just people, Nik," whenever I get nervous around someone.

So, I found a nice looking little cafe (they are everywhere, with several customers enjoying little cups of something at the tables outside. There were lots of dogs, there was lots of smoking. I went inside and up to the counter, and, in my best effort simply said, "un cafe con leche por favor." Which, you know really doesn´t sound like much, but when you´re there and their looking at you, and there´s other customers...you just don´t want to screw up...and god forbid they ask you a question...like this woman did..."para llegara o aqui," and she knew, from my accent...and my halting, trembling voice, that I was a foreigner, so she used sign language with me as well.

Now. If people would just use flash cards, it would be so much more helpful. When I see the words 'para llegara o aqui,' I know what she meant. But when it comes in a rush like that, and I´m not prepared...well it just leaves me as flustered as all get out, so I appreciated the little pointing language, demonstrating "aqui."

So I said, "aqui, por favor," and found a little table at to look at my map and figure out where the heck I was going from here.

Caminando...

2008-08-30T22:57:00.000-07:00

I have loved walking since I was a kid. I remember my first solo strolls out in the woods when I was in the 6th grade. We had moved to a fairly rural stretch of New Jersey and I would amble about, up and over the forested hill to my friend Jenny Boyd´s house; down the long line of railroad track out to High Bridge; and boulder along the river that ran next to our neighborhood. There is a freedom that comes from walking, and an antiquity that comes from putting one foot in front of the other, especially in the quiet of nature...that just doesn´t exist anywhere else for me.

So I suppose it´s a lucky thing I´ve gotten to do it so much this year isn´t it?

Sanilles has loads of romantic little footpaths to explore and the other day I was able to leave work early and head back out to the village of Mussa to try to find those sculptures Kinga, Peter and I tried to find last week.

The path starts along the river, which you have to cross at one of the waterfalls near where the horses like to hang out. I love giving them rubs on their foreheads and try to keep the flies off ém for at least a few minutes. They nuzzle my hand with their velvet lips as I talk to them. I try to make mohawks out of their manes.

Once I cross the falls, I get to walk along for a good quarter mile with a covered aquaduct made of stone on my on right. It´s a cool structure, moss covered, with openings cut into it every now and then, so you can pull up on the steel handle, lifting the heavy rock door, and take a peek at the water rushing by.

The aquaduct ends at about the boundary line of Sanilles and from there all is quiet but for the cicadas and the birds, and the rustle and dash of small lizards. It´s hot today and I´m glad I´m wearing my shorts, but wish I had my linen tank-top on instead of this t-shirt that´s soaking the sun into me.

These woods are filled with pines and cedars so I feel at home here; which is a comfort since my life in this place reminds me frequently how very far away I am from anything familiar. But the woods will always be familiar to me, and now I know that´s true even across the great sea. The trees and rocks and winds speak to me in a tongue more ancient than language and therefore I understand it.

The woods open to a clearing of pasture land and the wide spread view of the Serra de Cadi, towering about the river. From here, there´s a good, steep climb up to the ridge of this mountain. I set a steady pace and make my way, boots crunching into the sand-colored stubble of dirt and pebbles.

I am rewarded at the top with a full view of the valley. Do we ever get tired of looking at grand vistas? I can see Sanilles dotted below, the river a simple blue line cut into the ground. The highway tunnel coming into Martinet pushes out silent matchbox cars one by one. To the south is the Cadi, it´s fierce, linear stone are graded in greys and whites; if they were ambers and deep red earth, we would be in the North American Southwest. But we´re not.

To the north are the Great Pyrenees, the vast mountain range that seperates France and Spain. It follows from the East, ending the at the Coast in Basque country. Want to hike it. And I´ll get to - at least a little bit - in about a week. I need to cross the Pyrenees to get from St. Jean Pied-a-Port to Ronscevalles. Can´t wait.

After a good long look I started again, the footpath now taking me along through someone´s pasture lands. On either side of me are cobblestone walls about waist high. The path is fairly narrow, but you could probably get a cart through here. I see a wheelbarrow and a rake leaning up against an oak. You could definitely get a wheelbarrow through here.

Suddenly I noticed the blackberries. I had been on this path a couple of times and never noticed them before. The vines were swollen with them and I gobbled them up by the handful, staining my fingers with their juices. These were sweet; warmed and growing succulent by the mountain sun, unsullied by diesel fumes and high enough off the ground to avoid being assaulted by dogs. On the way back I would make a satchel out of some cloth I found in my backpack, and collect a few dozen to enjoy at breakfast with Hugh´s homemade yogurt.

After nearly an hour of walking, I came onto the road about a quarter of a mile from Mussa. It was still quiet, but then I heard the rumble of an engine and sure enough, around the bend, an old man in a blue shirt and cloth hat was driving a tractor, his kerchiefed wife rocking in back of him, holding onto the back of his seat. We waved at one another.

As I come into town, there is the sound of water; it rushes through in great gulps along earthen channels, diverting here and there into fields. It´s a terrific sound.

The town itself is very quiet. It´s three o´clock, siesta time, and nothing is moving about except a few chickens and a couple of boys on bicycles.

I make my way through the village and to the road where we think the sculpturer lives, about a three mile hike up. But then I notice the private road sign and a man with a wooden rake standing there, eyeing me. It´s the same man we came across the other day, we asked him for directions to the artist´s house, but he was ambivilant about his responses to us. But, I know from talking to Hugh that this is the place, with it´s fairly new house sort of holding fort to the gateway of this long driveway.

I decide not to test this guy, being satisfied with just the walk and not finding the sculptures. I knew Peter and Kinga would be coming back to Sanilles and thought I would wait until they returned and we could all go together. Strength in numbers!

I walked around the village for a bit, it´s very small, you can circle it in less than ten minutes, and then slowly headed back.

The irrigation channels now on my left, I continued down the road, listening to the low-pitched rhythm of cow bells from down in a lower pasture. I came across that tractor driving man and his wife again; but now they were in their fields, baling hay by hand it looked like. Working with long two-pronged wooden rakes, they moved hay into piles, cutting a path towards each other from one end of the field to the other.

Past their field, the rushing of water stopped and the sound was replaced by the chirping of grasshoppers who bounced around me by the dozens, showing off their blue underwings. Butterflies of golds, oranges and whites flew along in their halting patterns, stopping at the clover on the roadside for lunch.

I had brought a lunch too and found a perfect flat stone with a lovely view to enjoy it.

I would get back nearly an hour later, excited about the long days of walking that are in store for me.

To all my Hopeful Facebook Friends

2008-08-29T04:37:00.000-07:00

I have been getting lots of requests from folks wanting me to be friends on their Facebok pages.

And I would so love to be!

However---while I was successful in a couple of instances, it seems everytime I try to add a new friend to my page, this ancient computer with its ten year old software crashes. So I´ve given up, I don´t have a lot of computer time as it is, and this thing takes about five minutes to warm up..

So...all I´m saying is, I may have to try again in another couple of weeks when I find my way to a little speedier system.

Don´t know when that´ll be, but just know that I'm grateful I´ve got so many friends out in the world, and I´ll get to play in those Facebook reindeer games soon enough.

Comida con Miguel

2008-08-28T11:33:00.000-07:00

Miguel, our work leader here at Sanilles, has been working here as a handyman for over thirteen years. He is extremely patient, warm and kind and holds quite an apparent affection for this place in all its tatters.

Every day at 1:00 sharp he leaves to have lunch in town, about a five minute drive from here. He returns at just about 2:15 on the nose. The other day I was going to catch a ride into town with him, just to have a look around and he invited me to have lunch with him. I knew he always ate with a friend, so I didn´t want to impose, but he insisted so I gladly joined him.

Miguel apparently enjoys routine. He has been eating at the same restaurant, the Hotel Cadi, every working day, for at least thirteen years. Probably longer. "Muchos años," he tells me in the nice simple Spanish I appreciate.

We pulled into a parking spot in the center of the village of Martinet (it really is a village, very small, very quiet). There are a couple of restaurants here, a store that sells only fruit, a small market, a bakery, a meat market and a "tobacs" shop where you can get everything from stamps to shaving cream, sort of like one of our 7-11´s but without the ancient hot dogs rolling around on a stainless-steel grill.

We walked down the street, Miguel waving to everyone seemingly who passed us, whether they be on foot or in a car, and he suddenly veered off and walked into a non-descript door on the street. An old man was just sitting there in a rocker. I noticed no television or radio on, he wasn´t holding a book or a newspaper. He seemed to be just sitting there, at the ready.

¨"Vamos comer," he said to the man and then stepped back outside and moved in his rapid quickstep into a tavern. And it smelled just like any old tavern, Catalan or not, it had the scent of tobacco and stale beer attached to it and I thought, "oh man, we´re not eating in a bar are we?" But after Miguel greeted the bartender and slapped a few chums on the back, we beat it up the stairs and I was presented with an amazingly posh-looking restaurant complete with linens and chandeliers.

I was a little nervous, it looked like the kind of place I could ill-afford on my peasant´s budget, but I had plenty of cash on me, so I just decided that whatever it was I would just pay and be done with it.

Miguel motioned me to go sit at a table near the window and he disappeared into a couple of swinging doors, which I took to be the kitchen since a moment later I saw a waitress striding out with wine and water.

As I sat there, eyeing the decor and listening to American standards played in a big-band style (an odd choice I thought for a Catalan hotel), the same gentleman who Miguel had summoned to lunch tottered over towards the table. He was wearing a beige cap and jacket, with a plaid shirt underneath. He had to have been at least eighty years old and he made his way to the window seat and sat down next to me. We "hola-ed" each other and then we both sat silently eyeing the decor and listening to the Muzak.

Miguel came back to the table with two menus and a waiter´s pad and pencil.

"¿Tu trabajes aqui tambien?" I joked at him.

He smiled at me, "no, no...mire," he said, pointing at the menu. I started flipping through it, realizing I could barely afford a soup and salad combo when he took the menu and turned to the front page, "this", he said.

It was the fixed meal of the day...four courses, with two or three choices of each. "No..no..," I said, "too much...too much." Of everything, too much money to spend on lunch and WAY to much food.

Let me say a little something about the vast amount of food I am eating here at Sanilles. We eat three meals a day and they aren´t just a cup of oatmeal, a PBJ and maybe a salad and some meat and bread for dinner. Oh no...they are all full on meals, sometimes with three or four courses for both lunch and dinner. In the past week we have had guests at the hotel, which means we all sit down and eat together, and this means we are providing a pretty fancy meal with each setting. I was eating too much. It was all amazingly good (I´ve written down several recipes), but between that and not getting a ton of excercise...I felt I was getting a tad soft around the middle. Not good fighting form for the walk I´m about to undertake.

Anyway. Miguel says, "No..this."

And I couldn´t argue with him, with this guy sitting there...who, Miguel also has had lunch with...every day...for the past millenium.

So...we started to pick our choices, which Miguel then wrote down on the ticket and would later bring it himself to the kitchen.

First course is a choice of gazpacho or something called simply. "tomate." I order the gazpacho, which was wonderful, and the guys got the tomate. Which is really a glass of tomato juice, but which they then add olive oil, salt and pepper and down it with a flourish.

Next I had a choice of macaroni and ham, (obviously, I´m translating this for yáll and for me, since I can´t remember how to spell all of that.) or a fish soup. His friend and I (dammit, I can´t remember his name) had the soup, and Miguel had the pasta.

The soup was amazing. It was a clear broth, glistening with oils, and had such a rich flavor - to die for. In it were shrimp, clams and garlic croutons. Yum.

Next was a choice of fish, rabbit or sausage.

Guess which I had Gwen?

The sausage was unceremoniously plated by itself, save for a few strands of french fries thrown on the side. "Hey...french fries!" I said. Miguel looked at me and shook his head, "no..no bueno french fries." I liked ém just fine. And the sausage was awesome. It didn´t come with mustard, or sauce or anything else. It didn´t need to, it was flavorful enough on it´s own.

Ice cream or melon?

I wanted ice cream, but we still had the whole afternoon of work ahead of us, and I would have a hard enough time working off that sausage, so I opted for melon...which came in a huge wedge - it seemed like a quarter of the melon on the plate. Miguel had ice cream, which he put sugar into. I tsk-tsked him for that, and he just shrugged his shoulders and put in an extra scoop for spite. Since I can´t show you pictures, I´ll just tell you that Miguel is skinny as a post.

All the while, all through this lunch, there was a little chatter between Miguel and his amigo. I would´ve loved to talk to this guy, but was feeling pretty shy about my Spanish just then. Friends and relatives, I implore you, if you are going to spend a goodly amount of time in a foreign country, it would behoove you to learn some conversational words in that tongue. I would´ve loved to ask this guy where he was from, talk about his past work, ask him about anything...but I just couldn´t get there. Maybe I´ll try again next week. He did ask me if I played baseball...it was a random question and I appreciated it. I answered, "si, me mucho gusto baseball."
Ripping conversationalist, I am.

The bulk of lunch, however, seemed to happen between Miguel and two guys sitting behind him who were wearing city-worker or construction t-shirts or something. On of the guys cell phones went off, and it was playing that creepy little tune from the Exorcist that for some reason guys choose often as their ringtones. When Miguel heard it, he got the guy to show him how to put the Exorcist ringtone on his phone.

I shook my head at him, teasing him for his poor choice of ringtones. "No..no Ex-or-cist...Tubular Bells," he said to me. "Ex-or-cist," I said back to him..."no bueno ringtone."

He ignored me and played me his ringtone over and over again while we were trying to enjoy our dessert. I almost threw it out the window. Then his lunch companion handed his phone over, and the construction guys put it on his phone so I got to enjoy it in stereo until I said, "that´s it," and readied myself to leave while they laughed. I asked Miguel how much the meal was and he told me, "nine euros." Only nine?

I knew that meal was more than nine euros, it had to be. But I gave out ten euros and went to look around a bit while Miguel finished up with his friend.

Later, in the car, I asked him about the price.

"Si...14-15 euros por las turistas, but with me? Nine euros only."

Thanks so much Miguel.

An Englishman, A Polish Woman and an American walk into....

2008-08-25T08:26:00.000-07:00

Due to happenstance, Peter and Kinga returned to Sanilles only hours after departing on Friday and would be staying with us until at least Monday. And while I was sorry their travels were delayed, I was delighted that they chose to come back here.
And, as it turned out, I had the whole of Sunday off, so we decided to take a drive up the road a piece and see if we could find a fabled hermit sculpturer who lived just a few miles away.

And I´m pretty sure I´ve never written the words "fabled hermit sculpturer" at any other time in my life. By the way.

In addition to being simply delightful and engaging company, these two make me laugh...a lot. And honestly, after experiencing some righteous belly laughs with them, it occurred to me that I haven´t laughed that hard, or that often, in quite some time. Neither had they, Kinga told me this morning, so our meeting each other was a terrific and much needed gift from the Universe.

So we left on our little outing around noon and headed up the road. I realized that I hadn´t left the grounds, other than my walks, since I arrived here about ten days ago and it felt nice to be moving again, seeing new sights. We pulled into the parking lot of a miniscule little village called Transverre and I´m telling you it was right out of...I can´t even really reference it at this point...it looked medieval to me with it´s cobblestoned buildings, tiny little windows set seemingly randomly within the walls. Suddenly a woman in an apron and kerchief called out to us in Catalan, "Bon dia!" and ushered us quickly into her shop which was dollsized like the rest of this relic town.

There was a display of jams and jellies and all around were vases and pots full of flowers - herbs dried on lines laid along the walls, and there were scatterings of folk art paintings hidden in a variety of nooks and crannies. I could make out, from her wave of dialogue with us, that she grew the fruits and herbs herself, organically, and produced the entire product herself. Then she motioned us through a beaded curtain and showed us a most immaculate and surprisngly modern kitchen where she completes her work. It was quite the contrast, all this stonework in the other room, and then to be in that sterilzed space, with it´s stainless steel and gleaming tilework.

We talked with her for a minute and then Peter exclaimed that he believed he had left his car parked in the middle of the road. Somewhere, between the time we parked the car in what we thought was a lot, and made it into this woman´s shop, Peter realized that he hadn´t parked in a lot at all...but smack in the main thoroughfare. We bid the shopkeeper a quick "hasta luego" and hurried up the pathway to a man who was gesturing and calling out to us. Peter went to him and explained that he didn´t realize it was a road when he parked the car and that he was sorry. Kinga and I had jumped into the car and were unhelpfully giggling. I mean, I think it was an honest mistake. This "road" was kind of to scale of this miniature little village, it looked like you could barely pull a donkey cart through there, let alone a car.

That was how the day started out...and pretty much continued from there. We drove around in circles for awhile, asking whoever happened to be walking down the lanes if they knew anything about this sculpturer. Peter generally began the questioning, which would cause Kinga and I to giggle quietly at each other...I don´t know why it was so funny...to me it was his earnestness and the pointed way he would say, "¿Usted sabe donde esta el sculp-too-rrr...drawing that last word out. And people, who were generally fairly geriatric, would crane themselves at us and say, "que?"

Eventually we wound up in the middle of the same town square we had driven through a half an hour before, having no idea how we got there as we were pretty sure we had been on an entirely different road. And then Hugh showed up, right at the moment we were sitting there in the car a little dumbfounded, drove right up to us, with his jaunty straw fedora and his perfect English demeanor and said, "Well, how are you all getting along then?"

He directed us once again towards the road we were supposed to take and we followed it the best we could. In the end, we decided that we needed to eat something, having driven around now for a couple of hours, and pulled off to the side of a road with an amazing view of the Cadi valley and ate a lunch of French bread, herbed cheese and tomatoes. Our conversations all afternoon seemed lightening fast as we bounced from one topic to another, it was all very lively and generous.

After lunch we checked the time and remembered that Hugh wanted us back at Sanilles by 3:30 to share Emilio´s paella with the rest of the group. So we steeled ourselves for another meal and packed up.

We had to push the car out of the ditch that we had accidentally rolled in to, causing another fit of laughter, but it turned out fine in the end and we made it back just in time to pretend we were starving and ready for our supper.

Sabado a Sanilles

2008-08-23T08:19:00.000-07:00

What a gorgeous day.
That´s pretty much the sentiment that came to me during my morning walk up into the foothills above Sanilles. I have found a perfect little rock for leaning up against, next to a couple of young oaks; and I sat there this morning, watching two hawks circle and call to one another while the gentlest breeze moved the grasses around, the creek tumbled away behind me and the sun just starting to dapple everything. We are gifted with these sweet moments of perfection from time to time and this morning was one of them for me.
I have tomorrow off and am planning a long hike up into the hills to see what´s up there; but today I worked the bar and had a nice time of it. My Spanish is still atrocious, but I´m actually understanding a great deal more after 10 days here, and have even been able to string together a couple of standard sentences with some confidence. I´ve learned to pick out several key verbs, which helps tremendously with comprehension and Miguel, my work leader, continues to be astonishingly helpful.
Today was also lovely because I got to hang out most of the day with two new friends who showed up here a couple of nights ago and we immediately fell in love with each other.
Their names are Peter and Kinga (he from England, she´s Polish) and were actually "WWOOFérs" here at Sanilles eleven years ago. They say the place hasn´t changed all that much.

They are this wonderful dynamic duo who have done some beautiful things to make some positive change in the world. From producing and directing a film on the plight of stray animals in the U.K. and Spain (www.straytales.net) to raising money and saving rainforest in Argentina (10,000 acres); and they have currently just completed a beautiful eco-designed retreat center in Southern Spain. I saw pictures of it this morning and was quite wowed. They also write for a local magazine on a variety of green topics. Dynamic, this duo.
And fun...you know those people that you meet (when you´re lucky) that you just...you can´t stop talking to them, they can´t stop talking to you. Your conversations are almost rushed because there is so much to say and so many stories to tell and it´s all very fun and can go deep and then silly...that´s what it was like with these folks.
I just said goodbye to them and my little heart actually was a little sad...and here I´ve known them all of about 48 hours. Funny how these people show up in your life isn´t it? Like my family from the walk, I can´t imagine there was ever a time when I didn´t know them...these two felt like that and I wish them safe journey and the hopes that we cross paths again in this great, small world.
I don´t have much else to share today...I really dislike not having pictures to talk to you about...hope that changes soonly.
Alright then, I´m off to go back to my little rock. I´m done working for the day and am ready to put my feet up.
Lots of love to you all and I´ll talk to you soon.

Where was I...?

2008-08-20T09:04:00.000-07:00

I think we were talking about how I am being forced into getting better at my Spanish, because I have to actually wait on people here at the bar. It gets less terrifying every day, mainly because people are so nice, but it´s still nerve wracking.

I think it´s also hard for me because I actually like waiting on people; I like asking how they´re doing, where are they travelling from, how´s their day going...i can´t really do any of that yet, ´cause I can barely understand what folks are saying when they are ordering water from me.

Part of the problem too, is that I am in Northern Spain..way Northern Spain..about 15 miles from the French border, Northern Spain; and so people here speak ¨Catalan¨- which , I was told in no uncertain terms today, is not Spanish...it´s Catalan. Okay, got it. And it´s actually more closely related to French and German than it is Spanish, according to those who told me so. They have a lot of similar words, but some very different ones as well, and the pronunciation of even the same words is realy different. So...my ear has a hard time hearing Spanish all the way through, so when someone comes and spews Catalan at me...I´m lost pretty fast.

But...you know, it goes okay and people are patient and sweet, and so I´m learning two languages instead of one. Bueno. It is exhausting though, and I just lost my English speaking companion, Alexi, who left today. Angela, from Spain is here now, and doesn´t speak much English...so..I get a lost frequently throughout the day and it´s tiring.

Anyway, so, we work until about 12:30-1:00 and then head down to the kitchen to make lunch. And really, you never know what´s going on until you get down there. Yesterday we had to prepare salads for the family that was hanging out here all day, and we did that before we had our lunch. Today we ended up getting a couple of hotel guests, so we prepared a nicer lunch than we normally would have and ate family style with them. That´s wierd to me...I can´t imagine checking into a hotel and then eating with the owner and the staff...but, it all seems like business as usual here, so we´ll have them dining with us for the next couple of days.

Which means I sit there like a beached trout while everyone is telling stories in Catalan.

Anyway, after lunch we do another 3 hours of work. Today it was cleaning up after lunch, doing a lot of watering, cleaning up a couple of the hotel rooms and chasing the two horses that showed up, back into their pasture on the other side of the river.

We then have a break for about three hours and then meet back in the kitchen to prepare dinner. It´s a good day...long, but not fast paced at all. I love working in the garden, weeding and watering. There´s always plenty to do and the work is really peaceful.

So I´ve been here a week now..and I´m starting to finally settle in a little it seems. My jet lag is past me, thank goodness and I´m starting to sleep through the nights again..I can pick out a few more words and verb tenses than I could a week ago, which is excellent, and I´m getting ready to leave here in about ten days to hit the trail which I am really excited about.

Because I´m so close to France, I´ll be taking the train through that country to get to my starting point on the Camino (St. Jean Pied-de-Port) on the French side of the Pyranees. I´m also going to stop off for couple of days in France - one day to check out the neolithic cave art, which I can´t believe I´m that close to (I´ve always wanted to see those cave paintings, and they are less than 100 miles from me), as well as take a night and see the city of Toulouse, which I hear is amazing.

Anyhoo...that´s all for now...pretty straight forward stuff. Miss sending you guys photos, but I´m sure they´ll show up down the road.

Lots of love. Thanks Joe and Big G for writing comments! Glad to hear from you both!

"Tranquila..."

2008-08-19T12:42:00.000-07:00

We hear that word a lot here, "tranquila" - it essentially means to slow down, take it easy...mellow. It´s August and so most of Europe, and certainly most of Spain is on holiday. But I suspect that people here are "tranquila" most of the time.

So..can´t write for too long, ´cause it´s nearly 10:00pm and I´m pretty tired (muy cansada)- it´s only about 1:00 there in Portland right now. 1:00 in the afternoon, y'all are kind of just in the middle of your day!

Here, the moon has risen above the Serra del Cadi, a stunning mountain range that looks straight out of the Southwest. There are crickets singing and bats fluttering about and it´s very quiet save for the sound of the river that runs alongside the land. Sometimes I can´t believe my luck in landing here.

Let me tell youa little a bit about how our days work here. It´s all really random, and they can change at the drop of a hat depending on who shows up, but here´s the general idea:

6:30am - I wake up and spend a couple of hours reading and walking the footpaths that stretch out all along this property. My favorite spot so far, is to visit the crumbling ruins of this old stone farmhouse, not very old by European standards, it was built in the 18th century and is doing a nice job of tumbling down brick by brick. There are horses that roam around and this is sort of their home base. We say hello to one another and then I commence to writing a little bit before the day starts.

9:00am - I go to the kitchen to meet the rest of the folks for breakfast. This usually consists of Muesli and fruit. Hugh (owner of the property) soaks the Muesli every night, adding almonds, linseeds and hazelnuts. Then, in the morning we grate up apples, and put peaches or melon or whatever along with it. This is sort of the staple, we have yogurt on the side and sometimes bread if we want it. And tea and coffee of course.

9:30 - Miguel, our work leader, sets us up with chores for the day. This can be anything from weeding or planting in the garden, to helping out in the kitchen, to cleaning the pool or the hotel rooms. Because it´s August we have a lot of folks during the week dropping by to use the pool. For the past couple of days we´ve had the same large family - about 10-15 of them - come by and use the barbeque, for which we also provide salads for. So usually someone has to stay on hand in case someone wants to buy something for the bar. I am getting slowly better at this, the whole spanish part...it helps to have to hear it and speak it every day.

....well, we have to take a break, I have to get off the computer...I´ll tell you more later on.

Much love to all...I love you..and think of you all every day!

¡hola de españa!

2008-08-16T08:00:00.000-07:00

¡hola everyone!

I´m here in España, at my WWOOF volunteer placement. Unfortunately I am using an absolutely dinosaur computer, there is no USB port, so I can´t download any photos right now. It´s gonna be awhile probably, but I can at least tell you that where I´m at is lovely, lovely.

I am nearest the town of Martinet, still in Spain, but very close to the French border in the Pyranees. My volunteer gig is at a place called Sanilles Cerdanya - it´s a resort of sorts...it´s an old hotel, there´s a thermal swimming pool, a good sized organic garden and trails for walking up along the hillsides or down along the creek. We don´t have a lot of guests staying in the hotel right now. I just missed a week long yoga retreat with abot 25 people.Mostly we have locals that come and use the pool and have drinks at the bar.

My job is to serve folks at the bar and prepare meals for the guests that are staying here. I also work in the garden. It´s pretty random really. It´s run by a British ex-pat and his Spanish wife. There is another volunteer here with me named Alexi, she´s from England as well and is very sweet (a freshman at College).

The language barrier is trying, but I´m getting along alright...I know it´ll get easier with time and the more I´m forced to speak it. Next week we get a volunteer who doesn´t speak any English, so that´ll help some. Working the bar is going to be great for learning how to order things myself when I´m out in the world in a couple of weeks. Right now, I´m just sort of taking it easy, eating well, relaxing and enjoying the view.

Alright then, glad to know I can post from here (yay Firefox!), so you´ll be hearing from me down the road...lots of love...have to run now and get back to work, but I was just checking my emails quickly and thought I would try blogging again.

Okay, talk to ya soon!

Portland...am I really here?

2008-08-11T21:45:00.000-07:00

I have been here for 10 days - and it may as well been one, or fifty - it doesn't matter - I have been so discombobulated and unfocused that it's amazing anything has gotten done.

I have hardly any pictures from my time here. I didn't really take any. Here's one of gwen on the day we took the bikes out for a spin - this is in front of Tad's Chicken and Dumplings - gwen liked the photo op.

Here's a nice photo of my little orange scoot.

Just realized my father doesn't know I have a motorcycle. Whoops. Now he does. Whelp. I've had it a couple of years - and Portland is a short riding season, so I haven't been on it too much - but, I'm a cautious rider, so don't worry too much.

And besides...I'll be in Spain for the next three months so ... no riding anymore for me this season.

And that's it. No more photos.

Here's what I did in Portland. I can only manage list form right now.

1) Bought stuff for the trip
2) Packed and repacked my backpack - added items, tossed items
3) Took the truck into the shop to have the u-joints replaced
4) Had a major freak-out fit when the ATM ate my debit card two days ago, sending me - reeling - into a tailspin of "I'm screwed..I'm screwed...whatamigonna do - I'll have no money in Spain..I'll be destitute, in Spain...wail, wail, much hand wringing and general woe.
5) Got over all of it

Have visited a few folks. Made a few calls. Saw a couple movies. Watched a bunch of Xena. Rode the motorcycle. Hung out with Skiddy (here he is)

I've walked a bunch since I've been here. Talked to my walker family (still miss you guys lots and lots) and just kind of tried to stay afloat. Went to a few meetings and heard there is great recovery in Barcelona (which I'll check out).

So....that's it. I won't have my phone in Spain. Please email me. I'll try to blog as much as I can.

I'll be volunteering (WWOOF) for Sanilles Cerdanya for 3-4 weeks (google them, it's a cool place); and then heading on the Camino de Santiago. Haven't decided whether I'm taking the Frances or the del Norte route yet. I'll decide later.

Can't write anymore, need to sleep. Love you all so much. I'll be in touch.

Oh -- I almost forgot...during my varying levels of freakout I got some great advice that I wanted to pass on. Some from gwen (of course) who, when I was spinning around what to take, or what not to take she told me, "just remember Nik, you will always have everything you need."

And this from my ol' buddy Bob, who reminded me that "Virge, life ain't complicated at all; you might think it is...but it ain't!"

And finally, from Kathleen, who I talked to just hours before I left..."always remember the most important thing to do is to have fun!"

Thanks gwen, Bob and Kathleen for those words of wisdom...I will carry them close to my heart. And thank you Peggy and Lisa for still reading the blog! That's very cool and sweet.

Love to everyone - I miss you guys already. Leaving for the plane now.

Ahhhhh.....Camp Cushy

2008-08-11T19:36:00.000-07:00

I've been enjoying vacations at Camp Cushy for nearly ten years now. I was just talking to Regan and was telling her I thought it was funny that I don't really have many pictures of it.

And the ones I have...well, they just don't do it justice.

And I don't have any pictures of the river - which is the real appeal of the place. South Fork of the Smith River. Amazingly beautiful - the only undammed river in California, the South Fork is as crystalline beautiful as one can imagine. I am not a good enough writer to describe it...so just imagine the most beautiful river you have ever seen and enhance it. That's the South Fork that runs right along the beach of the land.

It's cold. Really cold and I get poked fun at for never wanting to swim in it. Folks think I'm nuts. I just don't dig cold water. Love sittin' by it - looking at it, musing through it - but to get in -- mmmmmm...no thanks, I'll watch from afar - frolic away my water-lovin babes. Enjoy yourself.

Anyway - no pictures of the river - here's the meadow that hangs out above the river.
Lovely, lovely.

Corbin and Joan are building a home out here. They did such a nice job with this, got some great folks to help them with it.

Unlike this structure - which I helped build. For some reason Corbin doesn't want to raise her child here. Hmmm.

But - this shack - the shimmy shack - has a great deal of history. Corbs and Regan and I all put this thing together over one fun-filled summer back in 2000. It's a storage shed, and dammit, the thing is still standing! So, says something about our carpentry skills. Something.

It also was the birth of our company, Carpentry by Force and the birth of our carpenter names - BruceRoy, Bob and me, Virgil. And we still, much to the chagrin of some, refer to each other by those names lo these many years still.

I love the shimmy shack. Love that it's still there. Oh, and I almost forgot - the motto for Carpentry by Force?

"Built to Last.....For Now." We even had shirts made. Still got mine.
Good times, good times.

Anyway, here's the "porch" of the kitchen and dining tents...

And here's Sophie enjoying her own respite.

I spent five days here - mostly sleeping off the road trip and the walk and the whole of these last 6 months. That's what this place is heaven for - pure relaxation - I also got to visit with my dear, dear family - Corbs, Joan and Regs were there - Gwennie! Oh, gwennie, my sweet friend. Soooo great to see her. We missed each other so much! Gwennie was celebrating a birthday that weekend too, so I was really glad to have gotten there for that.

I love my Gwennie.

- Nymiah and Jaca - got to see Bridget and Ward for a second - goddess they were all such beautiful sights.

And -- our Corbin - my BruceRoy - with child! So we weren't just celebrating her 40th - but the coming attraction (who is due in January) - she looked great, healthy and beautiful. No word on gender, we are calling the child "The Greek" or "The Little Baklava in the Oven." Sorry - you'll have to speculate onto why. It's funny.
But, as we were reminded, "you know you can't call the child "the greek" once it's born."

Sure.

We know that.

"Bob" and I tried to take a couple of pictures of each other - we were having some really bad photo moments, so...here's a picture from our visit in Virginia - she took this one...(and the ones of me and gwen and corbs - thanks for those!)

I love this picture, it's kind of a wierd action photo - actually, Tiffany took this one.

Anyhoo....hard to leave this place, it always is. But it was time to get back to Portland and get ready for this whole Spain thing.

Day Two - three - four - five

2008-08-11T18:08:00.000-07:00

Gotta tell ya - I'm writing this the night before I leave for my Spain trip, so this blog reflecting my trip from east coast to west is gonna be a little abbreviated. But, you know the drive across skipped a few beats, so - like the drive across Nevada - there just ain't that much to tell.

I can barely remember the places that we stopped. I know we barrelled through the eastern states - whizbang - New Hampshire, Connecticut (Hi Kid!), New York (Hi Kathleen!), New Jersey, Pennsylvania and into Ohio (Hi Jen!).

We would stop for lunch and open up the coolers in the back of the U-Haul and get everyone fed.

Here's a pic of Luke and I enjoying some refreshment.

There was another Motel 6 in Toledo. I ate chili dogs at an AM/PM at about midnight and went back to the hotel and watched...boy, there is nothing on television is there? Not at midnight in Toledo on that night anyway.

Here's a photo of 3 of the four-legged making do in the motel room...(not shown, Inca - although you can kinda see her in the mirror, Luke and Freeway)

Oh, here's a couple of photos of Luke - he's so talented - check out the feather work!

Mike calls this Luke's "John Adams" impression...

We left Ohio and tripped through Indiana and Illinois before bedding down in Iowa.

And this is where things really sped up for me.

I was under a little bit of a time constraint; I needed to get out to Northern California by Saturday night so I could get to Corbs' 40th b-day party hopefully by Sunday.

We were in Iowa and it was Thursday. I wasn't going to make it at the rate we were going - it's just hard to travel with that many critters and make any sort of time; so we decided that I would take the pick-up and separate from the group - make the rest of the way on my own. I took my walkers with me in the new ride...of course.

So..I left Sonja and Mike with hugs and well wishes in Des Moines (I think - we had most excellent tacos there from some place that Mike and I found at 10:00 right before they closed - they weren't too happy about serving us...but they did).

Anyway, I took off and pretty much hauled my butt as fast as I was comfortable with (80-85 mph. I drove all day and well into the night and wound up, bleary at a Days Inn around midnight about 50 miles from the Utah border.

Woke up at 5am and crossed through Utah, Nevada (90mph) and hit Sacramento at about 4:00 that afternoon. I made the decision to go for it - all the way to Eureka - and pulled into town a little after midnight.

I had never driven like that before. Not for a very long time anyway (once drove up from Baja to Redding in two days I think - which was nuts).

But it all worked out - the truck did well and I dropped it off the next morning in Bayside, got my truck (Howdy truck!) and hit the road around 10am to drive up to the Smith River and one of the most gorgeous respite places I know...Camp Cushy.

I was home.

Hitting the Road Again - Backwards...and Faster...Kind of

2008-08-10T22:11:00.000-07:00

When Kathleen and I were leaving the parking of that Starbucks parking lot in Greenbelt, MD -- heading for home - she zeroed out her odometer, signalling a new trip. I liked that. So, here are the zeroes from the U-Haul that would be my home for the next few days.

We had three vehicles with us - the little Honda, the blue pick-up and the smallish sized U-haul. The bulk of the kids (birds and dogs) were with Sonja in the little car. Mike had the cats in the truck.

I didn't have anything but a dashboard of supplies...

...and pictures of my walker family up on the roof. I was still pretty attached to them at this point - they were a week behind me, but still very present. I had been talking to Patrick and Kathleen and had gotten emails from Carrie and Jen, so...our hearts will still very much with one another. So...I took them with me.

And we headed out...at about 4:00pm on a Tuesday, leaving from the Cape. It wasn't the most fortunate time to be starting a 3000 mile road trip - but some things are simply out of your control.

As we soon discovered about 2.3 miles down the road when the car battery on Sonja's car conked out.

Ooooooh. So close.

So, there was that.

Then there was an accident that closed Hwy 6 (the only highway off the Cape) for a goodly section of mileage. We had to take a back road, which slowed us down further. I think it was about 6:00 or so before we even got near New Hampshire. It was....mmm.

We did end up driving quite aways into the night - pulling over at this Stop and Shop at around midnight and discussed how much further we wanted to go. We decided to push another couple of hours and make up some time.

I can't even tell you where we stayed that night. I do know it was about 3am when we pulled into the Econo Lodge.

And then we had to deal with the animals.

Have you ever tried to sneak one of your critters into a hotel room at night?

Ever tried six?

Hmmm...it's kind of hard to explain - at that time of night, and at that level of delirium I just started to giggle. But I had to stifle it, 'cause everyone was exhausted and Mike was sweating carrying Luke's cage up two flights of stairs and then realizing that Kaia was having a panic attack and wouldn't climb the stairs and so just ran back outside - which caused Sheluin to run outside with her. Freeway had to be carried up in her crate or she would've bolted and her anxiety was causing her to meow way louder than normal (which sounds really loud in a motel hallway at 3am). Bramble clawed the shit out of my arm.

I don't have any pictures.

But I can tell you what finally made me lose it - after everyone was finally tucked into the room and I was free to wander around and peruse the snack machine before heading to my room; I was walking up the back stairs where we had snuck everyone in and I saw one lone grape. And I just started cracking up, right there, my giggles richoceting off stairway. It must have fallen out of one of the bird cages. I wish I had taken a picture of it. It probably wouldn't have taken, 'cause it was kind of camouflaged by the carpeting...but there it was, nestled in the corner. It killed me.

Night One.

The House that these wonderful people built

2008-08-09T20:31:00.000-07:00

Sonja and Mike have built a wonderful home here on the Cape, and while they are sorry to leave the land, they are pretty darned excited about getting back to the West Coast.

We, on the West Coast, are super happy to have them home.

I came to this place in the fall of 2002 for a refuge, a respite and a great deal of healing while I started trudging along the road of recovery. These guys were gracious enough to let me stay with them for over four months in the pre-dawn days of my sobriety. A gift that can never be repaid - and though they have never asked me to - I was thankful when an opportunity came up for me to at least be of some service to them while they uprooted from one Coast to the other.

So, for a week I helped them out the best I could. I wasn't in super form, having just left the Walk I was still bodily exhausted, but they put me to some use, running errands and helping out with cooking meals while they worked tirelessly getting everything ready to go.

It's hard enough to pack up a house - but the work takes on a life of it's own when you have kids - they have 6 of them - of varying ages and skill sets. Their kids are critters, kids none-the-less. Let's introduce them, shall we?

Here's Sheluin - sweetheart herder dog

Kaia - sweetheart Labrador dog

Bramble - Mr. Outdoors - super capable, easy-going feline

Freeway - one of my favorite cats in the known Universe - Freeway is ultra-shy and doesn't like her picture taken, much like her mom - so i really don't have a picture of her - here's a photo of her back end. But she is a wee black cat, with white paws and a tiny, tiny mew. But she is her own woman and quite powerful in her own catness. I love her. We bonded back in 02 and I will always be grateful of her gentleness with me.

Inca - a 48 year old Amazon Parrot. 48. She is a rescue parrot, and Sonja has done a remarkable job of nursing her back to relative health. I will say that Sonja is a staunch opponent of caged birds, or in keeping birds as pets. I heartily agree. Birds are not domesticated creatures and the fact that we have tirelessly tried to make them as such is abhorrent to me. Birds belong in flight, in freedom, period.

Luke - another rescue - Luke is a cockatoo - and though I can't remember how old he is - let's call him a toddler, 'cause that's pretty much where he's at. He's very sweet, but a bit of a problem child - Again, you have to give thanks to the patience of both Sonja and Mike for taking on these birds. Birds are incredibly difficult to keep in the home; particularly exotics such as these. Luke was born in a cage, sadly, and was found at a Flea Market. Inca was stolen from her home in the Amazon and survived the heinous trip into the U.S. nearly 50 years ago. These birds are delicate in the sense that you can't just throw a bunch of seed and newspaper down and call it good. They need an incredible amount of attention and a very particular diet if they are to survive. When I first met Luke, he was squawking so loud I could hear him from the street. He was enjoying himself from a perch way up in a tree on their yard, having climbed up there (mostly) on his own. Sadly, Luke can't fly anymore...but he gets out regularly!!

And for fun...I have chosen this towel as a representative of Sonja, who hates having her picture taken. She is always carrying a towel around (kids)...so...this'll do.

So - that's the family (and, I'm sorry I don't have a picture of Mike...I don't know how that happened!) It's huge. And in a week's time they'll all be loading up into a car and a truck and making the 3000 mile journey out to California. I'm driving the U-Haul.

Anyway, before we get to that little adventure, here some pictures from her garden.

Sonja is an herbalist with a wonderful line of natural products and tinctures - some of which are grown right here in the garden.

Her specialty is in the healing arts of critters. You can learn more about Sonja's work by going to www.bluebirdherbals.com

Visiting with Matt and Amy....and...The Growler

2008-08-09T19:07:00.000-07:00

I didn't get to spend a lot of time with Matt and Amy...I was due in Cape Cod the next day, and Matt was flying out of town on business so we had to cram in our visiting into one day. Which I think we did fairly well, all things considered.

I got a tour of their new home, which they just bought, and I have to say, I was utterly impressed with how homey everything was despite the short amount of time they had spent there. Nice work Amy!! I'm sure Matt was helpful, but I have a feeling you were behind the majority of this operation.

Again, sadly...my photos do not reflect this, and I do apologize. I claim sleep deprivation. But I did manage to take a picture of the Tallest Air Mattress In The World, which was the first bed - in a home - that I'd slept in since I left Portland. True, there have been many hotel rooms, and a lovely, comfortable couch at Annie's in Santa Fe..and a very nice pad at Nannie's house in Vermont...but this was pretty close to bed-like.

Although it was remarkably tall and had a little bit of the dynamic of sleeping on the cream portion of a (really tall) eclair, it was wonderfully comfortable and I slept well.

I also, oddly, snapped this photo of my first cup of tea away from the Walk. It had signifigance to me at the time. Not quite sure why. I was feeling sentimental apparantly...this was not the White Pearl's tea service.

Matt got up early to go into the office for an hour or so, which gave Amy and I a chance to hang out while I folded laundry (don't get me started on how cool their washer and dryer is - you wouldn't think that a w/d could be cool? Their's is. Really cool.). We happened upon an episode of Little House on the Prairie and bonded immediately during the struggles and parables of that hard-working, God-fearing family of the Prairie. Love that show.

We also realized that Little Laura was growing up a little fast in this episode, courtin' a fella much too old for her - earned him a bust in the chops from Pa - but it all got straightened out in the end - much to the dismay of Nellie Olsen, who also had a thing for Alfonzo. I think he ends up with Blind Mary in future episodes. I'll have to rent the DVD's when I return. I'm that curious.

Have I mentioned the Growler? I'm sorry to say that I cannot even remember the dog's real name - or even the gender - I'm so sorry - I'm going with female. Cutest little thing, but a bit...mmmm...high-strung. Rescue dog, bless you guys!! They have given her a wonderful home and indulge her special nature.I couldn't get too close to her, but I did get this shot.

And here's one with momma...

Anyhoo - Matt returned and we loaded up - sans Growler - into the car and headed for the Cape where we were to enjoy food, sun and sand before they dropped me at Sonja and Mike's house.

I hadn't seen the ocean in nearly 6 months, so it was a blessing that it was an absolutely gorgeous day and the beach wasn't too packed. Matt had been joking with me that since I would be leaving soon for Spain, that he had this image of me simply walking off the Eastern Coastline and continuing across the Atlantic until I reached the coastal waters on the other side of the world. I told him, "alright then...I'm off."

Here I am ... making his vision come true.

Seems Matt is a little rock-hound, he gathered these up in absolutely no time.

And here he is proudly displaying a magnificent find.

After we had worked up an appetite lounging on the beach, we headed up the hill to the Beachcomber, where we enjoyed oysters and fish tacos, wrapping up a lovely festive day.

I was sad to say goodbye to them - but I'll be seeing them down the road soon enough.

Oh, almost forgot - I happened to be there when the mail arrived, carrying their official marriage certificate. Kind-a cool. Congratulations you guys! Thanks for not having a big to-do wedding!! Love you both!!

So I arrived in Boston...

2008-08-09T17:35:00.000-07:00

The train trip from D.C. to Boston was fairly unevent....no...wait a minute...it was chock full of events.

I have to admit, I'm writing this a full three weeks later - having finally regained some semblance of brain function after my travels - and want to tell you a little bit about my journey back home to Portland. The details may be a tad fuzzy, but I'll do my best.

Anyway, the train trip.

All was going smoothly.

Well, we were a half and hour late pulling out of the station, but that's nothing. It's really a non-event.

I reached Penn Station in New York City and text messaged Kathleen, who was driving the Pearl back home to upstate New York. I got a phone call from her while I was standing on the platform - "Dude, rain from Hell going through Pennsylvania!! I just got out of it...crazy!!" She was laughing, it was so good to hear her voice, even though it had just been a couple of hours since we parted. I told her the skies were clear in New York, so hopefully she would have a saner journey as she got closer to home.

I had settled in nicely to the train ride. I love trains. Good pace for me, the seats are comfortable, and you can zone out to other passengers pretty well if you need to. I was enjoying my iPOD and a very quiet seat companion.

And then things started getting sticky. We stopped.

Anyone who's travelled by train knows that the full-on stop is a harbinger of doom because when it comes right down to it...a train can't do anything but travel on a track, and if anything is obstructing the track...well...that's that for an indeterminable amount of time.

And that's where we were at. A voice came overhead, "looks like we are stopped for an indeterminable amount of time. We'll keep you updated as we get information."

And suddenly there was a mad rush for the snack car. Like people knew. Seasoned train travellers. We weren't getting off this thing. It's not like a bus where there's a pull-over and you can get out. There's no getting out and meandering around the tracks while they "get information." I imagine a similar thing happens on planes that are stuck on the tarmac. The difference is, the flight attendants are in control of that snack cart. On a train...the poor guy who mans the snack counter got completely bum rushed. Suddenly there was a line almost a full car deep. People were buying up all the hamburgers and hot dogs and anything remotely edible. At one point, one of the train stewards just pulled a big unwieldy box of peanuts out of some cupboard and just started throwing them at people, hoping to fend off the siege.

Keep in mind folks that this announcement had only happened ten minutes prior. Even knowing we could be in for a long haul, I was taken aback by the sheer panic that seemed to have arisen so suddenly. Like there was a massive blood sugar crash, train-wide. Too much Survivor or Lost perhaps. It was brutal.

So, more information came in and as it turned out, there was a train in front of us whose engine had died. We were on a single track, so there was no getting around it. We would just have to wait until the train got fixed or towed up the line. Cool fun fact? The train in front of us was a charter from the Boston Red Sox, so there were a bunch of players and coaches and the like on it. That fun fact seemed to actually calm this East Coast crowd down and give them something to talk about and bond over. Good thing there weren't a hoard of Yankee fans on the train.

Eventually we got moving again, I texted my brother Matt, who was picking me up at the station with his (newly wed!) wife, Amy (who I hadn't met yet). I told him we were gonna be at least an hour late at this point, maybe more...which didn't seem to bother him in the least, cool guy that he is.

So life was good, we were all smiling. The snack bar was closed for food, but...you would've guessed that. And then...

We stopped.

Just outside a train station in Connecticut. We could see the station. People were milling about. But we were about 500 yards from it. Criminy, now what!

Well...the rumor mill started up. I kind of had a hand in it, which I feel a little bad about...who knew?

While we were sitting there, three Connecticut troopers ran down the aisle. What?

Here's where my part came in. I had told my seatmate about the chaos in the snack bar and then he told someone that some guy had threatened the snack bar attendant and that they were looking for the guy who did it. This information turned into someone threatening the conductor, which was a federal crime and a terrorist act because of 9-1-1. (!!!) I could hear all this chatter going on around me, and kind of sunk into my seat a little bit, but let it go none-the-less.

The voice on the loudspeaker...and, she seriously said this, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we apologize again for the further delay. It seems we have had some other doins happening. We will give you information as we receive it."

I can't believe "doins" is in "trainspeak to passengers during an unexpected stop" anywhere in the Amtrak manual, but it should be. That was awesome.

We started moving again. After quite some time I tell you, my guy next to me was super agitated. My brother was mellow on the other end of the text message machine and I eventually pulled into South Station at around 11:30 - 'bout two hours late. Not bad, really. Not bad.

Got to meet Amy, who is lovely, and they took me to this very cool little tavern not far from the station where we had a terrific meal of min-hamburgers, Caesar's salad and a tomato-mozzarella number, along with some real Boston Clam Chowder. I was whooped, but excited to see Matt. We headed to his new house!

Sorry for having absolutely no pictures to go with this blog. I didn't take any. Not a one.

Oh, and as far as the terrorist threat? Never happened. I don't know what those troopers were looking for, it had nothing to do with any out-of-control snack bar incident. Everyone was safe. And fed.

"This love has got no ceiling"

2008-07-19T13:04:00.000-07:00

It's been almost a week since I've left Washington D.C. and bid my walker family adieu -- it doesn't seem like that much time has passed already, and yet...there it is. I've been in touch with a few of my folks, through email and text messages and phone calls...thought it might be fun for you all to see a little follow up of where everyone wound up, or is going to wind up since leaving camp.

We travelled with 60-100 people on and off, and obviously they aren't all going to be represented here. But I tried to pull up photos of people I've mentioned most frequently in these writings...if I left anyone out that you are curious about, please let me know and I'll try to get a bead on them.

Little Booger is travelling with Addie. I dearly hope we get follow-up pictures of this little guy, who provided lots of furry love for us. I know that when Addie returns to the farmlands of Wisconsin he will likely become a happy, frolicking farm dog. For a guy who started off his life under an abandoned trailer in Mississippi, this is one of those endings that I will cherish about the walk.

Carrie and P.J. are travelling in and around Michigan, participating in sacred ceremonies and catching up with friends and family. They head out to their home in the Bay Area in August. They're both happy and well and have absolutely no regrets about leaving the walk. We missed them both to no end, but are grateful they followed their hearts to do what was right for themselves. Dear, wise Carrie-foot who taught me so much, and P.J., who probably understood the most tender parts of me better than anyone...I so appreciate you coming into this family, and that I get to be a part of yours. I love you both so much.

Jen gets the 'tenacity' award for finishing this walk despite everything she went through early on. We almost lost her back in Alabama when she had "had it" but I am so glad she finished with the rest of us. She's tucked at home in Ohio, love you lots my friend, thanks so much for making me laugh as often as you did. I could listen to you say, "Come see the Natives in their Wild Habitat," - mocking that ridiculous announcer - for hours. And I'm sooo honored I got to see you sing up there with Kid, one of the highlights of my walk experience. Thank you. Oh..and this just in, from an email I just received, "When are we starting the Longest Walk refugee camp?" Lord have mercy.

And speaking of Mr. Kid Valance...I don't know what it is with this guy. If I didn't know better I'd say I had a wicked crush on him. I feel though, truly, that Kid and I just have our heartstrings pulled by the same chord in life. You're a beautiful man and I know you'll keep writing all those gripping, melancholy blues tunes. Kid was on his way to New Haven, Connecticut, headed towards points to be determined later. Rumor has it he may be settling in Ashland, Oregon...something I pray for on a daily basis. Favorite moment of the walk for me was having him wake us up that morning in Canton, Oklahoma...birth of the "gerber daisy" moment...precious.

And here's the little Gerber Daisy herself. When I talked to Kathleen this morning, she was home in upstate New York, happy now that she had set up her tent (Golden Bear!) in the backyard, "I can sleep now," she said. The entire Perillat and Carroll clan are preparing for their family reunion...an event I would be at in a flash if I wasn't locked in to other things. Sixteen kids and umpteen grandkids sounds like a recipe for...well, it'll be somethin I'm sure. The White Pearl made it home intact and is still ferrying her about. I'm sure the little squeeky circus horn is still right active. When I asked her the other day what she hopes to be doing in 6 months she said, "I want to be locked outside with the birds...in my canoe." You taught me so much about....well, you were a blessing, let's just say that, shall we? I love you, sister.

One of my favorite walking buddies, Patrick is at home in the Bay Area, getting back to business with his rafting company, Birch Circle Adventures. I asked him what one of his favorite moments of the walk was and he told me, "well, watching one of the monks jerk around to James Brown was pretty cool." Thank you for all your bus companionship Patrick...you're an amazingly cool guy and I'm very much looking forward to seeing you this November my friend. Oh, and you get the 'surprise mushball' award of the walk. Loved that.

Raymond Muckuk you glorious soul. Ray is home in Minnesota where he'll be resuming his work as a medic and counselor for chronically homeless men at a shelter facility. Ray told me that the moments he loved about the walk, "were those mornings when we would all just get up and work together to get back on the road. Without fighting we would just get the job done so we could get our message to Washington. That's when it was best for me." Some of my best moments, Ray, were getting to listen to you while we were walking and I will hold your words in my heart as I continue with my own journey. You helped me see the Spirit on more than one occasion and I will forever be grateful to you for that.

Roman and Amy have commandeered that ridiculous bus and are turning it into a environmentally friendly "commune on the road." I'm not kidding. Talked to Amy this morning and they were in North Carolina at a inter-tribal gathering, hoping to continue to take the message of the walk along the way. I wish them well. If you see them rumbling through your town, offer your support would you? Their gonna need it.

Shun had some time left on his visa and is travelling in Mexico with Chikaru, one of his fellow Japanese compatriots. Shun left his job as a Toyota factory mechanic when he came on this walk and doesn't really want to return there. "I want to open a coffee shop in Tokyo, sell c.d.'s and books, good food." He says it'll take him couple of years to realize that dream, but I have no doubt he can do anything he wants. I will always love him for his ready smile and his ability to make everyone laugh...and his love of noodles. It's so Shun.

Sunshine, my sweetheart, darling boy. I'm going to miss your hugs tremendously. From the Bay Area, Sunshine is going to spend some time travelling the south - first stop is on a friend's organic farm in Tennessee where he will work for awhile and decompress from his experience here. I hope he gets that "breatharian" thing going. Hope you stay in touch love, but even if you don't, I know you'll be well and spreading your sweetness and light for the rest of your life.

And as for me...I'm heading back home to Portland, Oregon via a stop in Northern California to lounge on the South Fork of the Smith River for about a week. I'll be in town for just 10 days though before I hit the road again - leaving August 12th for Spain where I'll spend three weeks or so volunteering at a farm in Lerida. From there I spend two months hiking the Camino de Santiago in Northern Spain and Portugal. I'll be doing it alone this time...as far as I know anyway. You never know what can happen out there in this beautiful world.

I wanted to thank everyone out there who encouraged the writing of this blog, especially the family members of walkers; Peggy and Lisa and the many Perillats who kept track of Jen and Kathleen respectively through these pages. Also thanks to Michael Rumble for his many kind words (Wade and Mary are well and good and heading towards California, btw).

I also so much appreciate my own friends and family who helped keep me sane throughout the course of this whole thing. To my father Bob and his wife, Liz. And to my untiring phone companions, Gwen and Joan and Lisa, who never hesitated to listen to me rant and laugh and cry throughout these five months. Couldn't have done it without you my friends.

Hard to sign off on this one...but it's time I think. I'll continue to keep this blog going for all of you who want to keep up with my upcoming travels.

Much, much love to you all. Okay. Gotta go now.