Sunday, October 2, 2016

Peregrina....a Sunday in Finisterre

….. Sleepy peregrine boys, rustling awake with a start, as I round the corner of the stone church portico, hoping to find Mass in session. No Sunday Mass, just a couple sleepy pilgrims stretched on their mats

…..Langostiere beach, over 2 km of pristine white sand, so laden with seashells the outgoing waves create the music of wind chimes softly catching a breeze….

…..Seagulls squawk, shrill screams urging me to awaken and start a new day

…… walking sticks tap the stone of Rui Santa Catarina just below my open windows. Pilgrims marching in the early morning through a sleepy Finisterre

... A wander on the city beach collecting sea glass for my dear artist friend Jan

….Joyous reunions as pilgrims see each from afar, rushing to embrace in welcome
“ When did you arrive? Did you walk the last four days here? Ohhhh, I am so glad to see you again!”  English, Portuguese, Italian, German, Czech, French… It doesn’t matter… The message is understood

…. Cafes buzzing with the passionate voices of Spaniards as mid- day Sunday draws them together in family and community

….Sipping a cold cerveza in the noon day sun, my legs stretched out, welcoming the rest; listening, as a myriad of nationalities chat in harmony around me

…..Bells tolling the hour...a tinny Clang..Clang .Clang….these are not the bells of a wealthy town

…. Enthusiastic futbol announcers blaring from cafe doorways -- TV’s scream the plays of the day as locals and pilgrims alike yell as they pound fists in celebration of their teams

…. 7:30 AM - Feet moving quickly along the street below as cafes prepare to open- only the early morning pilgrims will greet a Sunday at this hour

…. Children trudging up the beach from a romp in the sea, pants slipped to the ankles, a jacket warming chilly shoulders

…. The aroma of garlic and onions wafts from windows above the street front businesses  - A Sunday meal in the making

.....  Hearts!  Capturing hearts and sending prayers for loved ones

Peregrina, I soak in the moments, willing my senses to always remember this Sunday in Finisterre

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