April 16 – 17, 2022 ~ Arzua, Galicia (Easter Sunday / Rest day on the Camino)

April 16 ~ We struggled up a steep hill to huff and puff our way to a bar called No Camiño which we learned is Gallego for En Camino, or Along the Camino. Downing cold soda we are revived enough to climb further uphill to the town of Arzua. We called the Pazo Santa Maria to send a driver to pick us up. We will stay at this Pazo for the weekend.

We are learning the many languages of Spain. The vocabulary in any one language is dependent on the locale. Pazo is a new term to us and it means a place for lodgings for pereginos. Technically, it is required to have a restaurant and a shrine to St. James as well as a vineyard. We didn’t see any vineyard or shrine, but the place was amazing.

One of owners, Miguel, picks us up and drives us the short car ride to the Pazo and we see a large complex of stone buildings with updated amenities. There are old stone shields on the walls and a dining room with a substantial fireplace to feed a small village. Miguel tells us that the complex was a nobleman’s home in the 1700s. The low slung buildings that are now clean, bright and modern were the servant’s quarters.

Today I’m happy to be in this polished place, even the servant’s quarters. Meals are included and I realize this is upscale and I want to tell everyone I know to come here. But “here” is way out in the countryside in Spain and getting here is not easy.

The investors took old ruins, covered in vines and missing roofs and walls and in 2004 began the process of hollowing out the structures, bringing them up to code and designing a place fit for a king…or a nobleman. Today there is a peacock and peahen in residence. A wary swan lives there too and eyes us when we use the clothesline offered to us for the day’s wash.

April 17 ~ We wake slowly and assess our aches and pains. Luis’ knee is sore and each toe needs a Bandaid, or rather the Spanish upgrade of Bandaids, called Compeed.

My ailment is the tendon or a muscle in the right upper thigh or groin area. I stretch but can’t get it to calm down. Maybe this rest day on Easter Sunday will help

We get a ride to the center of Arzua for Mass. It’s close enough to walk under other circumstances. But this is our one rest day on the Camino and we would defeat the purpose by going into town and returning on foot. So Miguel drops us off at the church and I’m surprised at the lack of festivities.

The church is not old, quite possibly from the 1900s. It’s cold. So cold and, sadly, so scarcely occupied on this special liturgical day. We see old men dotted throughout the pews, old women, too, and two families. The readings are delivered by women of the congregation who do double duty singing in the choir. I understand the readings and the homily pretty well and wonder if they are speaking slowly or if I’m catching on to Gallego, with its blend of Celtic influences and Castilian influences.

When it’s time to collect the donations, I’m startled by the gangling of coins in red velvet bags that the women carry from pew to pew. In this age of Covid, and here in Spain where the wearing of masks in mandatory and strictly enforced, I don’t expect anyone to walk around the church carrying the donation “baskets.” Because the women are gently shaking them, I assume wrongly that they are stern and demanding.

As the Mass ends, Luis and I stay to look at the iconography and the statues. We let the parishioners clear out before taking any photos of the St. Jameses. There are at least 4 St. James statues and they are each in a prominent location. Even if our Pazo doesn’t have a shrine, this church must be a clear signal that we are surely on the Camino de Santiago.

Sheepishly, Luis and I seek out someone in the room off the altar to ask where we could receive a stamp on our Credential. The same women who had taken the donation bags around, treated us like rock stars and want to be sure the stamp is inked enough and that it’s right side up. This is when I realize they weren’t stern before, they were just serious in their duties.

After our Credentiales are stamped, we go out to the main square in this small village. I’m looking for a rain poncho because I lost mine on the way and more rain is forecast. Almost immediately, we find a crowded market. With newly purchased rain poncho in hand we exit to find lunch and then go back to the Pazo.

The Pazo has a massage therapist on-call and I want to take advantage of the service. But instead I fall asleep and sleep and sleep till dinner time. Tomorrow we are back on the Camino and the nap will help the muscles, blisters and joints.

April 15., 2022 ~ We leave the Casa do Campo somewhat reluctantly because it’s hard to leave behind generous people who we might not ever see again. Javier and. Sonia, coproprietors have left us with desires to stay, but the Camino is calling and they send us off with Sonia’s father as a driver to get us back to the Camino which lies around 7 miles (12 Km) away. It’s pea soup fog out this morning and our driver, who knows the ruts, turns, field and cross roads, gets lost. Too much fog. I’m so happy he’s driving and we didn’t decide to walk the extra kilometers to the Camino for we would still be wandering in those fields. He eventually sees a fellow farmer. They discuss how to get to Ligonde so we can pick up the trail. We are dropped off . Though it is difficult to understand Gallego, the warmth and well wishes of this older man are clearly understood.

Climbing out of the car with our backpacks into the cool fog, we don’t see another soul. The town of Ligonde doesn’t have a bar or restaurant. There are a few homes, a school. It has free lodging and food for donations run by a Christian group that will take in the weary traveller for free, offer a cup of coffee or singalong. All for free. This is a challenging concept, until I remember we are on the Camino de peregrines and it all makes sense.

Further up the road we leapfrog with a group of families. One of the nuclear families in this group has stroller with a one-year-old and another has a teenage boy who has a visual impairment. I’m touched by the group’s care for everyone and the happiness that I witness at the first café-bar we all stop at. I notice then that more pilgrims are on the road and the fog is starting to lift.

We have a nice quite walk and the scenery is on full view. The shade of green are ridiculously vibrant, almost impossibly green. There is a fuzzy moss that grows on every rock wall and on the rocks of the old homes. There is a yellow green on the tall grass. Then the sepia green on the trees. We pass little white flowers everywhere and miniature purple fox gloves. So much beauty that a car trip misses entirely. I’m glad we are walking and taking our time.

Up in the next town, Palas de Rei, we pass a municipal sports complex and a school of some kind. We pass a large structure that seemed to have been victim to an ancient fire. Just as we cross in front of the remains, two older women from the town are shaking their heads as they stare at the hull of the complex. The tell us the fire burned the cafeteria last night at 5AM. They sadly say it was a pretty place. Later we find out that it was also a pilgrim accommodation and some of our fellow walkers were left with having to walk much further then they’d planned to the next location.

We walk on and have plenty of time to begrudge the heat of the day now that the fog is gone, the clouds are nowhere near and the sun is bearing down. It’s hot. I’m thirsty, hungry, and wondering how much longer. We stop at a small bar-cafe called Campanillas and Luis chugs a coke. I use the restroom to take off my tights, splash my head with water and instantly I feel better. Not great, but better. I don’t know how much further to our arranged accommodations in the small crossroads, Leboreiro. We pass a trio of siblings from Ourense, Spain, who earlier were not happy, not too happy at all. They seem to have finished a meal with drinks and they are now laughing and talking. We call to them, “Ourenses, ¿cómo les va?” They answer all is well, and we exchange “buen caminos” and we don’t see them again. Just a little uphill from there we find ourselves crossing a highway and then realize we walked pass the entrance to Casa do Samoza. Nap time and then time for lots of food after another day of walking 10 miles. ~ RoMA

April 14, 2022. Outside it’s dark and the fog is thick. I awoke at an hour that even the cows are asleep out in Monterossa, Spain, around 12 km off of the Camino. Though there is no light and sunrise is still two hours away, I realize that sleep is not returning to me, so I put on warm clothes, shoes and head to the dining room of a phenomenal Casa do Campo, a home originally made in the 1600s. More on the lodgings in a new post. But first, I want to capture our Day 2 on the Camino Francés, from Portomarín to Ligonde.

We started Day 2 having a breakfast of bread, jamón serrano, cheese, juice and coffee. I suggest that anyone who’s traveled or lived in Spain would find this a common enough breakfast. The uncommon aspect for me and Luis is that immediately after eating we head out in the cool weather looking for yellow arrows, attempting to recall online directions, and remembering that technology for us is limited without WiFi or cell phone data.

I have to adjust and readjust the lacing on my boot and these delays, time after time, causes me to inadvertently pause the only technological luxury I have which is an app called Relive. Through the magic of satellite imagery, GPS tracking and my photos on the cell I can make a minute long video of our trek once I get to a bar or lodgings with high speed WiFi. I’m in airplane mode and perplexed as to why Relive works. It somehow records until I inadvertently pause it, only to remember to check it a few hours later. Technology is only as good as the battery in my cell, and my ability to use it properly. (Audible sigh),

Ah, but the Camino on our Day 2 was fine without a perfect video! I made a conscientious effort to dedicate my day to Healing and Health. When alone with my thoughts, step after step after step, I considered the people in my life and beyond that are in need of health and in need of healing. I don’t want to put dear family or friends on blast by calling out their names. Still. I prayed for health of individuals, as well as communities, for example, the health of my extended and immediate family currently undergoing cancer treatments or having recovered from cancer and who have the fear of it returning in the deep recessing of their minds. My cousins’ husbands, Alfred and Oscar, my brother-in-law Ruben, my sister Tina. My dear friend from work, Tiffany. Closest and scariest of all, the love of my life, Luis. I am grateful for his healing from recurrent lung cancer. I form the words in my head as I watch the distant horizon full of mountains blanketed with fields and pastures. I ask for continued health for him and for me, but mostly for this man at my side who’s sojourning with me on the Camino. Other prayers for health and healing include those that are not in imminent health crises who I hope have continued good health including my other sister Diana and her husband Tim, my brother Dio and his wife Stephanie. Even the younger generation, Lorenzo, his wife Arevik, Miguel. I pray for their continued strength and stamina, for a healthy balance of work, family and simple joys. And if course, I pray for health and beautiful development of our granddaughter Luiza.

When it comes to healing, these prayers come in more complex ways, more along the lines of emotional healing or coming to peace with past injuries, injuries I’ve perceived and praying for the forgiveness from those that I have hurt. Just as I was meditating on these thoughts, we approached a huge stone pillar with an interesting cross high on top. On one side of the cross was crucified Jesus and on the other a fascinating representation of the Virgin Mary. At the base were two women we’d seen earlier on Camino, saying a litany of prayers. It wasn’t quite a rosary, but it had that rhythm. Before I knew it I was crying, thinking of the complicated relationship I had with Mom and who I pray for even as she is gone to us in this world. I suddenly knew it was the time and place to leave a little stone I have carried with me from my front yard, the weight not more than a couple of ounces, and yet, weighing down heavily on me for many year. It was time to leave the stone and its burden at the base of this cross outside of Ligonde. It was time to say one more intensional prayer, release the weight and walk with continued intention for healing this injury through an appreciation for her challenges as a single mom.

Then there was the health of the young, fit hiker who had an epileptic attack. We had notice a different man, obviously a peregrino, but sans a backpack waiting on the side of the highway. As we approached so did an ambulance with lights spinning. The hiker quickly showed the paramedics to the man who had had an attack. All of us passing asked what we could do. There wasn’t anything to do but say a prayer (and learn that in Spain you dial 112 for emergencies).

For the healing of all injuries and restored health, I dedicated the day’s 11 miles.

Today on our Camino was much easier than the day before. We went downhill from Portomarín, crossed the Rio Minho and immediately had a major decision. The Camino splits and we decided to go the Complimentary route. It was a good decision as we passed though old oaks while climbing out the valley. Yes, it was a challenge but my stretching in the morning and better posture helped keep my cramping groin in check. I took shorter steps and pulled in my butt, sucked in my stomach and straightened my back. This is a lot to think of while trying to focus on health and healing but my mind alternated among all this. Before you know it, we rejoined those peregrinos a that had taken the other route.

The air was full of the countryside. In other words, we passed many dairies and the odiferous smells as we meandered through hamlets and communities. At one point, a large tanker truck was in front of us, servicing a dairy. It was in fact, extracting the effluence from a dairy farm using an elephant trunk-type hose to suction up the “stuff”. We hung back and let it complete the operation, and watched as the proboscis swung into place on the side of the tanker and then maneuvered expertly through a narrow, narrow lane. But as it went the elephant trunk of the truck managed to drip, drip, drip. Ah, the smell of nature.

Seriously though, the fast open sky was fresh and clean. Such a vast difference from LA air. The morning mist and fog only helped define the mountains and fields.

I’ve been choosing to step on softer grass and pine needles along the side of the gravel trails. One of many lessons is to tread gently and to go at my own pace. RoMA

April 11, 2022 Greetings. We are greeted with fresh air and cloud-dappled sky in Madrid. The taxi driver at the airport gives us a warm welcome on our way to the train station Chamartín. The receptionist at our nearby hotel welcomes us with a warmer “bienvenidos a España.”

At Chamartin we see our first yellow arrow showing the way. And we begin to see several. Noticing is truly what the signs are about. They’ve been there all along but we have been blind. Years ago, as part of three couples on vacation in San Miguel Allende, Mexico, we went by La Flecha Amarilla (Yellow Arrow) bus to Dolores Hidalgo.

Another different greeting new in Europe. Reflecting the geopolitical times, the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the resulting exodus of immigrants and asylum-seeking women and children, the train station hosts reunification points. My heart breaks for the people of Ukariane and their shattered lives and country. We are closer to them than ever. I’m convinced that travel brings you to a deeper appreciation of people and an understanding of humanity is a way different than reading the LA Times or watching on-line news from afar.

We are on the high-speed train and it’s time to unplug, to watch the countryside, and to count the tunnels and viaducts to Northern Spain. Soon we will board our last train taking us to Sarria in the pouring rain (here called borrascas; what my mom called tormentas; what I call a sheets of rain). Bye for now and happy birthday to my brother Dionicio!

RoMA

April 9 – 10, 2022

The hours are stretching into something akin to days but much slower. It is a morning we are slogging through because it can’t come fast enough. It’s the day of our departure. It’s the day the Uber to LAX is on its way, the refrigerator is cleaned out, the backpacks organized. It is the day of dragging hours.

We purge our duplicates from our backpacks and small rolling suitcases. We want to carry with us our “tilichilis” from our routine, in essence, our comfort junk. Ultimately, we leave our backup 1st aide kit, my flatiron, my hair products, a second (and third!) tube of sunscreen, my extra Camino shirt, Luis’s dress shirt, his extra pair of shoes, a second jacket and a pair of pants. Then we weigh and measure our backpacks and our carryons and we are good to go. We are well under the luggage limit for the flight and we’ll figure out the switching out of items between the backpacks and the rolling suitcase on a daily basis, depending on the weather.

At LAX we tentatively approach the counter with our cell phones open to all the QR codes for boarding passes, negative Covid tests, proof of Covid vaccinations, digital Passenger Locator Forms, Spanish Traveler Health forms. And then don’t ask for any of it!

So we make the first foot journey of the day by walking and walking and walking to Gate 203. We walk so far, there aren’t even any cafes or shops out in this airport satellite. Because we are early we loop back to civilization in the international terminal, find a restaurant and settle in for a while.

Upon boarding I realize how full a plane can be. Luckily, we have window and middle seat. We take turns trading places. Luis and I synchronize our little screens to watch the movie Belfast at the same time. Goofy, huh? It is a moving story and I’m glad we watch it together so we can discuss it later. Maybe tomorrow. If we have time that runs at a normal speed we can digest the well-drawn characters and not have to yell over the noise of this jet. Then again, tomorrow we will still be flying and getting into Paris, to transit to Madrid. Madrid sounds like a good place to set our watches and to peek into our luggage to see what we brought that we don’t need and what we left that would been helpful.

I’m one of THOSE people who is so sleep- deprived I find a quiet corner of airport, lay flat with my knees up, place my head on my carryon, and fall fast asleep. Then we hear the cattle call for the flight to Paris in fast Spanish and faster French. We line up and off we go in groggy states of mind, our facemasks still firmly installed over mouth and nose and board another flight to Madrid where our bodies register wee hours of the morning and the clocks say late afternoon. Luckily, my pilgrim passport is packed and all it needs is a first stamp regardless of the time on our clocks. RoMA

April 5, 2022 — There are three main aspects of plans for walking the Camino de Santiago. These are logistics, physical training, and spiritual preparation. Arranging the logistics of flights, trains, hotels, and gear was fun and fulfilling. Each new detail confirmed brought us closer to the realization of this pilgrimage. Straddling the pre-digital world and the virtual ubiquitous world, I made folders with color-coded, flagged documents, a tangible representation of the travel, and created a shared digital folder on the trip for our travel documents. We’ve also both joined the Facebook group American Pilgrims on the Camino. Ah, and then there are the apps:

• Tripit app- a one-stop place for all arrangements that I can share with my sons and sisters
• Maps.me app – offline maps for the terrain
• AllTrails app – for Stateside and (I hope) Spanish hiking trails
• Renfe app – required for boarding Spanish trains
• Air France airline app – to habitually check in the hopes of being offered an upgrade to Business class
• Wise Pilgrim app – for infrastructure notes, step by step Camino guide, and suggestions for what is notable to see along The Way
• Buen Camino app – serving a similar purpose as The Wise Pilgrim
• XE app – currency conversion. It’s not so vital on this trip, but I love it still, especially when I’m jetlagged and can’t calculate the value of something
• Google Translate – yes, I speak Spanish, but in Galicia what’s spoken isn’t Spanish it’s Gallego (or Galician)
• Relive app – merging satellite maps with our geolocation and photos we take along The Way; my favorite during training

This snapshot of the tools for logistic preparation brings me to the physical training.

Walking and Getting Fit

Luis and I have been active for years. We first “dated” on a series of jogging outings at Stanford. And with varying degrees of consistency during our baby-raising years and the career-striving years, we have remained fairly active. The first year of the Pandemic flipped things and we spent time at home, watching too much TV, online shopping, cooking adventuresome recipes, and drinking wine. It was with a soft body and fear of catching Covid that about a year into the Pandemic I returned to walking in earnest with Luis at my side. My friend SandraDel Cid obliged kindly when I asked her for tips on training for the Camino. She sponsors the Marathon running club at school and I knew she’s a wise woman in the ways of fitness. With her suggestion taken to heart, Luis and I returned to the regularity of working out routinely, starting slowly and building every week. We slowly added walking sticks, then light, school kid backpacks, then real trekking backpacks, until we finally added the weight of all the things we will carry with us on the Camino. Following the training routine, we interspersed hills and distances until we could comfortably walk with our gear and food for 5 or more hours a day. One area of training we lack is that of cold or rainy weather walking. Southern California is still in a drought and we couldn’t put in the miles in the shower. So the anticipated rain in Northern Spain in April might come as a surprise to us.

Spiritual/Religious Development

Last weekend we made a last-minute decision to go on a locally organized camino from Mission San Gabriel to the Our Lady Queen of Angeles, otherwise known as the Cathedral in downtown LA. It was a 12-mile opportunity to connect with other faithful pilgrims. Some of them were not aware of the Camino de Santiago, others had made the pilgrimage multiple times, such as a new Camino friend pictured here. I think his name is Felipe. Regardless we connected about deeper issues than just trekking. Luis, meanwhile, ended up walking for miles with Fray Lucello from Brazil. These companions on our day were just two of 3000 people processing along with their 3000 reasons for doing so on a cool and overcast morning.

Mostly, though, Luis’ and my spiritual preparation has been the two of us, getting to deepen our relationship. We’ve been reading about the history, and the myths surrounding St. James, and the modern-day community of pilgrims. To be fair we haven’t been church-goers since the Pandemic hit. The church has been transformed, at least for me, into a community that strives to walk the way Jesus walked and the way St. James and other disciples did, getting to know the people on the ground. We still work toward fairness, peace, and community in this world challenged with so many things, from the ongoing Pandemic to war in Eastern Europe, and inequities right here at home. Today we are 3 days away from our flight to Spain. A week from tomorrow marks our first day of pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago with the logistics and training behind us. Remaining is the spiritual experience along the Way.

RoMA

In three weeks we’ll be in Spain. Luis and I will arrive by train at our launching point, Sarria. The scary part is that this is only 21 days away, after years of yearning to walk the Camino, months of planning, and training. I first heard of the 1000-year-old route back in the 1970s. So with a tired body, a full-time job, a supportive husband, and crazy hair, it looks like I’m venturing out. Did I say I have some fear?

Can I walk 100kms? Can I do it without whining? Without my body failing? What about injuries, mine or Luis’s? What about Covid rules and proof of negative results?

Today I took a cortisone shot to my old adversary, Morton’s neuroma. I talk to this bad foot and tell it I’m sticking it with acupuncture punishments, slathering it CBD and Voltaren, putting it inside decidedly frumpy shoes. It has an army of combatants against it.

After the injection, I can’t go for a training hike for a couple of days. I invite you to see some recent hike videos on the app Relive. I don’t know if this app is allowable in Spain. If so, I’ll post links there when I can. Each video is less than a minute long so you won’t be bored. Yesterday and the day before‘s hikes. There are many more, but those are the most recent ones. I think you have to download the Relive App or see it on your desktop. I’m not sure.

Meanwhile, here are a few books I read about the Camino. My favorites are written by Kevin Codd. His writing is lyrical and I linger on many phrases, especially in his failed attempt chronicled in the book Beyond the Field of Stars.

A practical book about preparation and passage is Camino Ready; Backpack, Boots and (no) Blisters. Luis turned me on to the visual feast of wonderful photographs by a woman walking alone who published A Peek at the Remarkable Camino de Santiago. I read a book called From Sore Soles to Soaring Souls with the indulgence of my women’s book club. (Thanks Anne, Holly, Summer, Carol, Valerie, and Lisa!) Though it pissed me off that the author claimed a stake on a great title, I have to say it was HIS Camino and there is value in that somewhere. I’m almost embarrassed to say that this isn’t all the books I delved into. There are more. Many more. But none of those are MY Camino. Each is thoroughly individual. These are a few titles that gave me insights. Don’t worry, I have no intention of writing a book. This blog is more than I can handle.

In a similar vein of my physical preparation, I’ve dragged myself home from work to watch YouTube. I’ll post a few of those if you’re interested. You still are interested, aren’t you? That will be another post.

Yes, we are still in the COVID-19 Pandemic and the world is unsteady after the last 20 months.* The new – normal keeps changing, but won’t return to the pre-Pandemic past. But there is hope on the horizon. With trepidation and excitement, Luis and I have taken the first commitment — steps, if you will — to travel halfway across the world to complete a pilgrimage along the Camino de Santiago.

Both my sisters have walked the Camino. Tina and her husband Leonard walked from Portugal in 2015. Years later, when Lenny was too weak to go because of stage 4 cancer, Tina took a group of cousins and my other sister. I was too damned committed to work and didn’t feel I could simply leave work for 3 or 4 weeks to go with them. Then the pandemic hit. Luis and I sequestered ourselves. We feared being breathed upon by anyone and everyone. We wiped down our curbside pick-up groceries. We learned how to Zoom for Mother’s Day, caught up on house maintenance, sorted old clothes, put our finances on a long-term investment strategy, and watch a lot, I mean, A LOT of television. Most importantly, we centered our lives, stayed in our home, and contemplated what we value.

The nudges we needed to make plans to walk the Camino included: the COVID vaccination and its booster; my sisters’ evangelical encouragement, my boss mentioning in passing that she completed the last 100 km by herself, and most of all the yearning to have a physical experience that renews my spirituality.

Luis and I started getting in better shape, increasing the distance of our evening walks. We took a deep gulp of breath and bought airline tickets. Refundable, if necessary. The plans started to feel like an adventure.

Then my 86 year-old mom died. Suddenly. She had begun to show signs of Alzheimer’s and she was physically weak which were conditions long in coming. We knew that our son Lorenzo’s wedding in September 2019 just before the Pandemic hit was probably the last trip she would make, but we didn’t realize what was ahead for her. Both my sisters, Tina and Diana did heroic gestures and changed their lives to take her in, trading off every other month to have mom under their care. Mom’s memory failed but she covered it up craftily.

Events coalesced and here we are (October 2021) with a Camino in the planning. I’ll pray for health for my friends, family, and the world. Please pray for the fruition of the plans for me and Luis to walk our Camino.

*Postscript, March 21, 2022: This post was found in “Drafts” from November 2021, just weeks after my mom passed away. She was the glue that held our family together: Single mom of six kids, and boy did she do right by raising us. I hope she views our Camino from the other side, if it happens, as a tribute to her. She was supportive of our pilgrimage, even if she didn’t recall the details of our trip or remember Luis’s name.

We are 30 days away from leaving comfortable Southern California to walk across part of Northern Spain. This is no simple walk in the park we are preparing for. Instead, Luis and I are planning on a 100-kilometers trek from Sarria to Santiago (SdC) along the Camino Francés. I don’t know exactly when I first heard of this pilgrimage route. It was probably when I was 19 and I went with a Stanford overseas program to Spain. That was in 1979, a notable branching-out time for me, one of many forks in the road. Over the years, both of my sisters and a couple of cousins have walked the Camino Portuguese from Oporto to Santiago. I read several books about the Camino and habitually followed their route. But I was not comfortable leaving work when they went. Fast forward to the current day, my boss shared that she walked the Camino last summer during a lull in the COVID pandemic. Once we talked about it, she gave me the encouragement to go. The final message for me to go was when my mom died and I realized time is flying. I want to reconcile my relationship with her as well as my roles in life as a new grandma and as my retirement from education is on the horizon.

Luis and I took a deep breath, gambled that COVID would be at bay, and we booked flights. That was in October 2021, a mere 5 months ago. The Pandemic has brought into focus the decisions we make and those things that are important.

We have walked and walked and walked since then. It’s been great to reconnect with Luis without distraction. We have explored Southern California canyons and nearby river channels. We’ve trained in weather ranging from sunny and cool, to gloomy and dry. We shopped for backpacks and tested them, pared-down clothes to the essentials, tried out our walking sticks and camelback water bladders. Beyond the physical preparation and assembling the pilgrimage gear, we’ve prepared logistically: trains, lodgings, insurance, itineraries, COVID testing requirements. Emotionally and spiritually the preparation is interior work. It’s in my head and in my heart.

Yesterday, after two grueling days at work, presenting 9 professional development workshops I walked off the stress by going on a solo walk around the neighborhood. Luis was enjoying his typical Wednesday clear across LA, watching our darling granddaughter. So I walked alone. The walk helped ground me. clearing my mind of the jumble. And though the scenery was simply the city streets, it was good to be out after a long day at work.

The walk on March 9, 2022 https://www.relive.cc/view/vMq5EB2XY8q/png?x-ref=sc