Camino moments....

As the days wear on and pilgrim feet fight to maneuver another stretch of cobblestone pathway….As the skies split open against the force of torrents of rain bursting to be set free…

As 6.5 more kilometres until the next stop  becomes 10.2…..bodies and emotions falter under the weight of a questioning mind:  Why am I doing this?

And then there are the brief moments of awe that remind us of our ‘why’ - hold on to these for they will bring you through fellow pilgrim.

...tinkling bells in the distance calling us to peek over a rock wall and have a chat with the cows grazing in their field

… clang….clang….clang….. Church bells strike while walking through a ghost village

… a hearty ‘Buen Camino’ rings out as a cycling pilgrim pulls ahead on the path

… evening vespers sung by nuns in candlelit churches, as they have for a thousand years

… joyous laughter as reuniting pilgrims embrace after several days apart

… a cafe con leche 1 ½ hours after beginning the day’s walk

… the farmer gifting fresh grapes from his harvest as we pass

… quiet moments when all of time and space become one with the soul

… spiderwebs of morning dew glittering across an open corn field

… children giggling as they yell “ Hello!” - practicing their English

… falling into bed alongside other weary souls with no cares other than sleep

… simple meals, prepared with love by volunteer albergue staff  here only to serve the pilgrim   on his way

…  meseta sunrises blazing tangerine streaks across vast skies

…  the Milky Way, stretched for miles, beneath  the Iberian heavens

And this, the setting of the sun as the day closes….these wonders of man and God are the ‘why’ we go on...these moments are the gifts of the Camino.

" Is it gelling?"

“ Are you enjoying this one? Is it gelling?”

Ahhhh, there is the question, asked in precisely the specific way that triggers me to write--finally.

Is it gelling?  Perhaps---at times --- not really -- at times.

Some days are blessed with incredible connections; moments when I stand with goosebumps at the profound knowledge that I am surrounded by my angels.

And then...void.  

“ Now why am I here?  What is this about?”

Questioning the purpose of this walk.  Questioning what I am to write about; to share.

Yes, there have been miraculous moments  … moments designed to let me know that

the laws of attraction are in action.  Moments orchestrated with such precision it becomes impossible to question the connection between my soul and those that have moved into the next realm.

And, touching stories from other pilgrims, magic moments in their walks which validate that, in fact, this amazing ability to draw to ourselves that which we believe to be real and true can take a physical form.  We can manifest.

If I were to categorize this Camino Portuguese experience right now- today- I would call it the Camino of Intention.

Each and every day I wake, stretch the aching pilgrim muscles and lay very still for a few moments consciously intending my day:

“ I am filled with gratitude that the walk today will be one of joy and peace.  I know I will be safe in my travels and pilgrims I meet will add a special ‘something’ to the day.  I am grateful for the time and the financial means to walk this walk, open to hearing all the Universe intends for me to learn on this day.  

I am forever grateful that Sis, Jeannie and MJ are with me and make themselves known in their unique ways. Thank you!”

Now, of course every morning is not the same...there have been extremely specific intentions set forth on some mornings. The type of detailed requests  of which many would say

“ Oh c’mon Kate.  You cannot expect to see, hear, know the answer to that.”  Yet, invariably,

Those intentions come to pass in a manner I recognize.    

What I can say, is that each and every day I have been given a clear signal that I am heard.  Each and every day, at moments in time that simply cannot be questioned, guidance has been given...signals have been shown.

And so, I walk each day wondering what magic moment will occur.  Do I catch them all? No.

Do I catch enough?  Oh Yes!  

Mary, thank you for the question, at the right moment on the precise day it was needed --

Yes- it IS gelling.  

PEREGRINA

It is in the act of walking, one foot before the other along an ancient camino path, that my heart begins to sing again!  Today was that day, even if only for the shortest of distances as I found my way from the train station at Mealhada out to the albegue where I am currently sitting, cooled by the breeze flitting the leaves of a lime tree overhead.

Tomorrow the true walk begins.

Today, I am finally with other pilgrims and feel a sense of connectedness, a belonging.
The last several days of sightseeing, wandering and capturing photos to share with friends and loved ones  has all been a gift for which I am eternally grateful.  However, I have felt incredibly alone.  An aloneness I do not not recall since the days hiking in Patagonia last year.

In my daily world I am surrounded by loving family and friends.  I am blessed to have my son and his family close - and after years of my living overseas, this is the greatest gift.  My home is with my sister, who is my  my greatest, dearest, truest friend in the world, and my nephew.  They welcomed me in two years ago and we have formed a family unit which works well for the three of us.

My life is full and never do I feel alone.  So, these last few days have come as a bit of a surprise; a realization that when planted somewhere in the world without others to share the experience,in person, it all feels rather empty...lacks meaning.

And so, although surrounded by primarily French pilgrims today, I am at home.  Backpacks rest in the corner of the dormitory room; fellow walkers whisper at mid afternoon so as not to wake each other from a mid-day rest; my washed clothing hangs alongside socks and tee shirts belonging to people I will never see again.  We take turns buying a coffee, water...a beer.  We share the olive plate
I purchased and discuss the next days' journey... in broken English accented by smiles and nods.

I am a peregrina once again.

Thoughts from Coimbra --

Here is what I know to be true-

….I can walk whatever portions of this Camino Portuguese I choose, which means if the heatwave continues I can adjust- -nothing to prove. WHAT a freeing place to be in life!

… Sis is with me --- 711 has shown up three times in 1 ½ days as I contemplate what day I will actually start the walk…. All is in order, all will be well

…  I am perfectly capable of following a map ( those of you who know me KNOW this is a camino gift!:-)    Walk a camino path and follow the markers ..no problem. Navigate a city- Trouble!  BUT, I have, I did and I will continue!  Thank you, Sis!

… this is a Camino of trust...setting intentions with gratitude each morning then letting go and knowing all is in order.  Each time I find myself even the slightest worried about something: finding my way through the city, late airplane connections, the heat….I remember that I already addressed it and surrendered KNOWING everything is working out perfectly...as intended.

… Portuguese people are warm,kind, and helpful

…  afternoons are the best time to snag the shower in a hostel ...those of you walking know this is true :-)

…  the ‘clang’ of the church bells told the wealth of a city in olden days.  Poorer city or village, clangy bells…cheaper metal....wealthy city, glorious tolling bells, musical.  I love them all.

… breakfast in Portugal is a carb load --  Bread, butter and jam, baby spiced pancakes, marble cake… yummy!

… European coffee is still my favorite!

… I walk knowing that I will learn what I am meant to learn when the time is right.  My soul knows all is in order

… I will indeed have a Bom Caminho!

Walking through the Istrian clay....

A fresh Adriatic breeze is beginning to blow away the blistering August heat as the clock reaches the 20:00 hour.  Now is the time to walk...now that the family doggie can enjoy a stretch away from the shaded yard; now that we can breathe in the aroma of the surrounding fields, without fighting for breath in the humid air.

Rich red clay dirt packs the path as we meander through olive groves…  groves which have produced Istrian olive oil for centuries.  Aromatic oil once shipped to the courts of Venice and beyond. Oil processed by the families who have worked this land for generations .

I have been here before, in these same fields with this same family doggie, Floki. He leads the way, guiding us from olive groves to a row of fig trees laden with ripe sweet fruit. Bozena reaches into the branches, plucking 4 or 5 sticky figs, handing them to me as a gift.  We have found our after dinner dessert.

A small grape vineyard, un-attended, overgrown with grasses, thick at the base of each tiny tree, still survives..green leaves fluttering in the  afternoon breeze. Owners have been near; abandoned plastic chairs mark the end of the first two rows...a tired wooden table sits cockeyed … they have been here.

Crossing over  a narrow working road, a  lavender field beckons.

“ Come, run your fingers through my tiny leaves.  I may not be in bloom, yet I am still deeply fragrant. Take the memory of me home with you”

Lavender mounds in perfectly sculpted rows offer tranquility to the senses.

We turn to the path on the right, greeting a local farmer, stringing caution tape along the edge of his field.  A deterrent to birds? Other wild animals...I am intrigued.

“ Dobro vecer...Kako ste?”  Good evening...how are you?  Bozena knows this man who smiles warmly offering us the chance to pick whatever fruit we might like from his trees.  More figs for the evening meal; tiny sweet blackberries the size of a pinky fingernail are gathered into my open palms.

“ Hvala! Dovidjenja “  Thank you- Goodbye... Bozena waves a thank you.  I tilt my head and smile warmly, hands laden with gifts.

His eyes sparkle with the love of this land.

Flocki leads us home through the red Istrian clay

Rovinj....

6:30 AM - walk early before the summer heat settles in, that is the plan.

It has been almost two full years since I wandered the alleyways of Rovinj,Croatia in the dawning hours.  The air smells of the sea. the Adriatic is to my left as I head east into the morning sun...a walk which will take me out past the roadside konobas ( outdoor barbecue restaurants) featuring roasted pig and lamb on enormous spits….sizzling over open wood fires as tourists queue for a seat.

But that will be later.  At this 6 o’clock hour the only others on the streets are those headed to work, or a few like myself, out to get some excercise before the sun soaks the town in a blanket of heat.

Past the konobas and then a circle back and north, towards the ospedale( hospital), which sits in a park on the edge of a Rovinj neighborhood.  Boats, calm and still on glassy waters, are anchored in the cove tucked at the edge of the hospital grounds. Gulls chatter in the otherwise quiet peace.

I take a turn and circle toward town...circle toward the most incredible view of this ancient Adriatic fishing village; walk into memories of a short lifetime ago when this movie set town was home.

Gong…gong… gong….the bells of Basilica Euphemia toll 7:30AM.  A new day has begun in Rovinj.  The harbor is alive with fisherman; a sardine boat offloads it’s catch as the men gather to watch and chat. Seagulls, knowing breakfast is close at hand, circle overhead waiting for a chance to swoop in and snag a morsel.

I stand to the side, the only female in this orchestrated morning dance of men and sea. The pungent aroma of the morning’s catch assaults my nose.  The smell of the sea, as always, makes my heart sing…. brings a moment of utter connection and joy.

Across the main road, now buzzing with autos rolling into town, and through a side street lined with tables of men...all men...smoking and drinking their morning espresso.  Up the hill and past the rear entry of the Fransican monestary, still active after hundreds of years.  

The grade school, graffitied walls surrounding, on my right….the apartment building  I once called home on my left. My heart skips a beat.  But that was then…..

Take a turn to the left, up a bit farther, and I am home….home to Jan’s….home for the next few days.

Rovinj...such joy!

Remembering Italy.....

SO,  I have time to kill today between trains and busses...in that LONG process of getting from Venezia Marco Polo Airport ( 7:30 AM landing) to Rovinj, Croatia ( 6:25 PM arrival tonight)..... LOTS of time to kill.

And, of course, I find a corner street cafe, order an aperol spritz ( which of course comes with a bowl of yummy salted potato chips- sustenance) -  and I watch and listen and take it all in!

And remember what I remember :-)

~~cigarettes - EVERYWHERE!  This culture still smokes like a chimney

~~Backpacks--wanderers traveling the continent with all they need on their backs- I, of course, relate completely :-)

~~gentlemen holding a loud and passionate conversation about some accident that happened a few days ago--arms flying, voices in a crescendo and a storyline that takes FAR longer than necessary to explain the situation ( to American ears) --- they, however, are enthralled with words :-)

~~tanned silver haired men - smiling at me as they walk by --a little touch of heaven!

~~ mopeds..buzzing, buzzing….

~~kebap eateries all around the train station area - quintessential Europe

~~Body odor

~~ honking auto horns

~~scarves draped around the necks of men of all ages-- in 85 degree heat - FASHION is king!

~~men with  bare ankles - sockless in their loafers and dress slacks

~~E10 bill after 2 Aperol Spritz, 1 sandwich, 1 espresso and a never-ending bowl of chips ( LOVE this!)

Even in the exhaustion of 30 hours true travel hours, I am enthralled ...delighted, to be back!

No photos I am afraid-- had my camera packed away and in storage at the train station while I wandered -- you will have to use your imagination :-)