Today we had an early start and happily walked on the well marked trail. We walked through fragrant Eucaliptus and Oak forests. It was a heady perfume that filled the air and lifted our spirits. There were some pines with long needles, maybe Lodgepole Pine because they were straight and tall.
It was a crisp Spring day. However, it became partly sunny by midday and I was afraid we would get wet. But the rain waited until the night. This was our longest walk to date, about 14 km . Remember, we are getting our training on the road.
We walked on the Roman Road that is thousands of years old. Sometimes the Camino and the Roman Road converge. When they do, the road is better maintained. I look down at my feet and think about who almost certainly walked in my very steps.
I think about soilders with armor and chariots with horses also armored. I think of ordinary people going about there business of life. I think about the poor and the sick who walked to Santiago hoping to become healed, kind of like me. I feel that my life and my relationships need healing. I think of my family and friends every step of the way. I hope that they will understand my humanity and fraility and forgive me for the many things I have said and done to hurt them.
When I walk the path, these thoughts come, it’s natural. When I am within myself, quietly walking by Eric’s side, I think of my hurts, both physically and emotionally and see more clearly my role in the events of my life. I feel that so many things have passed, can I ever set things right again? I want to with all my heart, but I must send that wish off like a balloon up past the forest canopy into the infinite universe. If my wishes were balloons, what an odd sight it would be from a hill near by. Many colored balloons emerging from the forest to glide ever upward and disappear.
I send each of you a balloon clear from Portugal over the sea or the channal or the mountains, wherever you are. You get your favorite color. When it comes down gentlely to your hands, there is a message from me written on it: I LOVE YOU, and a little whif of the forest perfume, just for you.
Now the path grew rough, with uneven rocks and rushing water in eroded riverlets and mud. We climbed the steep banks, trespassing on fields, through vinyards ducking under vines fastened to their wires with fresh willow twigs swisted into knots. We tried to decide where to decend to the path again and realized that the whole path was a river down below.
We trespassed on until we found a way down past the water. We were not the first to use this escape, it was a little worn, we could tell.
We met two bicyclests on the path. There names were Victor and Baltazar. They were locals. They spoke passable English, so we had a conversation with them. They each chose a picture; Victor chose our house from the hill where our water comes, and Baltazar chose some purple and pick flowers.
We arrived in Valença only to discover that we had missed mass and the Father had moved on to another small chaple down the way.
We found a man pushing a wheelborrow full of willow twigs. Eric asked him where the next church was. He spoke perfect English with a Boston accent. He had lived there for 14 years. He directed us down the rd. We hurried there and learned we had missed him by a half hour. We almost made it, but not quite.
Then there was a weird turn of events. We found a little store. The store was across the street from the little chapel. The store keeper’s wife opened the chapel for us and we sat for a while, catching our breath. The store keeper offered to give us a ride to the abergue. However, he suddenly had lots of customers, so we started walking down the rd. I was really really tired and sat on a bench near a town well, unable to move any further.
So Eric went back and asked again for a ride. The store keeper asked one of his customers to give us a lift to the abergue. His name was Carlo and he had his daughter Jessica with him. He was very kind and willing to help. He owned a café and invited us to lunch the next day. Jessica chose the picture of drops of water with rainbow colors.
Carlo made a wrong turn and had to take the freeway clear into Spain in order to turn around. Then when we got to the abergue, it was locked and no one was there. Finally someone came and I asked him if there was heat. He said no. I was just so tired. I couldn’t bare another cold night. So Carlo said he would get his wife, who spoke good English and take us to a pensionas. His wife, Isabelle, was not happy with Carlo for helping us. She took us to a friend of hers where we stayed the night. It was a nice place with HEAT.
However, the next day, we arrived at the appointed time foe lunch and Carlo wouldn’t speak to us. Isabelle ignored us too. We sat down and waited and waited as they waited on other customers. Isabelle and Carlo yelled at each other for a while in Spanish and then Carlo got in his car and left. Finally Jessica, who spoke a little English came over and talked to us. I asked her if something was wrong, but she said no. So we sat there and waited some more.
A man came over and I asked him if he was a Bombeiro, or Fireman because he was dressed in boots, pants and large coat with reflective strips. His name was Fernando Reis. He was a Bombeiro and we had a lively conversation. He had also lived in the US for a while, NY I think. We told him that we had been invited by Carlo for lunch. He leaned close and told us that we may be paying for our dinner.
The fireman told us all about his wife and why he loved her. I chose a picture for him to take to her, the white flower with orange on the peddles half way up. We exchanged email addresses.
Finally Isabelle brought us huge plates of food, one of cod and one of chicken, the two specialities of the cafe. We were overwhelmed with the quantity of food. We thanked her profusely.
It got about three bites of the cod and started to feel strange in my throat. It happens sometimes, so I didn’t worry. But it kept getting worse and worse. Fernando was getting concerned and said he could take me to the hospital. I said I’d be all right, but finally I had to leave to the restroom. I choked and choked for about an hour or more. Eric came and checked on me and I was still throwing up and choking. Everything was swelling. My wedding ring was getting tight.
I stuck it out and finally I choked less. Fernando was very concerned, but finally left because his wife called him on his cell. Eric decided to take me back to the same pensionas that we had stayed the night before. I kept spitting up on the way. I hate to do that in public, don’t you?
When we got back to the room Eric suggested I take a hot shower and that cured me. I was exausted from choking so long and was still swollen all over, but the hot water did me good and I stopped choking. I don’t know if it was a fish bone, or an allergic reaction or what. But it was really scary and I’m not really going to eat cod for a while.
So, we stayed in Valença for another night. On our way out of town we walked through the old walled town with a castle. It was very commercialized, but there were things to enjoy. I lost one of my gloves and we retraced our steps miraculously talking to people who had seen it and directed us. A shop keeper had picked it up and hung it on a tree planter. And we talked to him and there we found it. I was so glad. To be without gloves would be true suffering! On to Tui!
