Why I stayed

(From an email I sent in June of 2009, about why I didn't come home initially.  Posted to keep it in time with other posts.  But posted in actuality 2016.  In 2015, I wrote/performed a solo performance around this.)

I know I've been back for a while now, but my Mom pointed out to me a week ago that I was supposed to tell you why I decided to stay in Spain.  Actually, I wrote another email while I was still there, but the computer crashed, so I guess it didn't send.

While I was in Lourdes, wandering around and having a difficult time with French banks (they wouldn't make change for the large bills I was carrying around because I wasn't a member of the bank, pretty much across the board), I received an email from by brother asking what I would do if all the money were stolen (again, though I'm not sure that's what actually happened to begin with, with me, more likely I dropped the cards) and that there wouldn't be anyone who could help me out if this were to happen.  Which I guess is true and caused me to worry, although I wasn't sure if that was actually something I should own or not.  For the record, while of course theft happens, and could happen, I have never  really had it happen to me, and I suppose I might trust more than other people would, and I am careful, up to a point (ie, I don't keep all my money in the same place, etc.)  The man at the computer place charged me less than he needed to, which was a nice thing to do.

I paid my hotel bill that night because I needed to catch an early train back into Spain, and the woman at the desk said I could leave my key on the desk in the morning (they charged me less than was advertised.) It was early, but I went to my room, and didn't end up going out again.  When I woke up, I was sure I would still try to change my ticket and come home early, I was afraid I would be robbed and stranded for real.  Plus, I didn't think I had enough money to stay for the whole time. (And I was concerned of staying while I owed people money.)

I was in the only part of the hotel (sketchy hotel, but people staying there were there for the hope of a miracle I suppose) where people were staying.  In the morning, I packed up my stuff, but as I was getting ready to leave I couldn't find my key anywhere.  Long story short, I finally opened the door and realized I'd left the key in the door all night.  Anyone could have robbed me, but didn't.

I forgot to punch my train ticket and the conductor threatened to charge me, then didn't. I got to Irun, and someone helped me find a post office.  I got to Pamplona and met another Pilgrim who knew of a place we could stay, random people on the street helped us find it.  At that point I kinda' felt like a "fake pilgrim" and that I was trying to hide from God (however one would do that) I was sure something else would happen, but gradually, that feeling faded and I stayed, by getting up and walking each day, and finding people to share meals with, etc. Also, kept having St. Jude coming up, which was the Saint related to my first full day in Madrid, the saint of lost causes and desperate situations regarding money, and I continued to have what I felt were "desparate situations regarding money" but nothing that caused me to go home in the end.

I suppose it would have been more "fun" had I not worried so much, but still working on the trust thing from my first trip.  And you know, it was Lent, and I suppose Lent is supposed to be a bit difficult.

Detour back to El Burgo Ranero

Alt route detours back to El Burgo Ranero. Polish man, Reliegos, with trout and chips, singing, dancing and dog with baguette. Walk against dusk to arrive in Mansila de las Mulas, since there wasn't an albergue open in Reliegos.

5 more days

I run into Aluis on the street, he takes me out to lunch at a fancy restaurant.  We don't speak the same language, so we try to draw pictures to communicate.  I wander all over town looking at every shop window to see if anyone possibly takes traveler's checks, as I am completely out of money.  Finally, I find a sporting goods store, and buy a pair of convertible pants, with enough change left over to buy food, and pay for lodging until the banks open again, whenever that is.  It's unclear, even to locals, whether Monday is a holiday or not.  (Once again, St. Jude saves my ass.)  On Saturday night, I run into Connie at the last procession.  He places a chocolate Easter egg in my hand.  People proceed barefoot, the procession ends at the Dominican Monastery, I wander around looking at the artifacts, the children all get Easter baskets.  I have to get back to the albergue by 10 pm (because they lock the gate), so can't go back and see any of the concerts around town.

Easter.  I find a church, same one where the Indian music concert was, where the woman was hauled off in an ambulance.  I see her, she looks worse for wear, but is mobile.  The service is somber.  I later wander over to the Cathedral and attend the mass with all the tourists, and pageantry, and camera flashes.  Find an Italian restaurant and eat the menu del dia.

There is a market on the edge of town, I wander through buying sweets, and olives.  Have someone write out my name in Arabic (and also one as a gift.)  On Monday both the post office and the banks are open again.  Can finally cash traveller's checks (without any issue, now that Easter is over, things get easier again) and pick up my gear, but the woman at the bus station doesn't flinch over the taped-together 100 euro and hands me my ticket.  Only three other people board the bus to La Coruna.  Miss saying good-bye to J, I see him with a friend, on the main plaza, but am too shy to walk over and interrupt them.  Suddenly, I am approached by a man selling cds, and while speaking to him, the sky opens up, and another deluge falls, he puts my hood over my head, and everyone runs for shelter.  By the time it's over, J is gone.

Arzua to Santiago-Tendonitis and drenching rain in the city

Thursdsay, April 9, 2009.  Tendonitis, keep walking, as I arrive in Santiago late, sometime after 7 pm, run into friends once again, and get drenched. I try to make it to the Cathedral and the Pilgrim's office, it's late. I had decided that if it wasn't dark, I would keep walking from Monte de Gozo to the Cathrdral so I could be in the city for the procession tonight. First I run into one of the Finnish men from Orbigo who offers to let me share his room, invites me to eat dinner with he and his companions, but I want to finish this stage. Then a local stops me to rent me a room, while I'm trying to hear her (and the streets are totally packed with people) J, the American shows up and translates for me. Don't know where he came from. He tells her I'm not interested. He walks with me to the Cathedral and then waits for me at the Pilgrim's office. We get caught in the parade, and then in a drenching rain, where all these previously hidden umbrellas come out, and we dodge them and end up under gargoyles and get soaked. He walks me toward the Seminary where I decided to stay because it's less than 10 euro/night, I'm out of cash and the banks are closed for the holiday. We say "good-bye" and he leaves to meet friends for dinner at the Paradour.

Cassanova to Arzua

Crazy, crowded breakfast. Long walk, new albergue, washing machine difficulties, meet Aluis. He leaves a Virgen Mary card on  my bed for protection when he finds out I am travelling alone, even though there is only one or two days left of walking.

Portomarin to Cassanova

Just how it all worked out after agreeing to send my bag by taxi without a reservation. Talked into not carrying backpack by Korean student who is walking Camino with his mother, he wanted to split the cab cost for the luggage transfer. I arrive in San Julian only to find I can't stay there because I didn't make a reservation. I finally extract my pack, and trudge to Cassanova. There is a kitchen, but no place to buy food. Someone arranges for anyone that wants to go to get a ride to a nearby pension or albergue (it's way off course) where we get the pilgrim's meal. I've been sick to my stomach and don't want the full meal, I only want ice cream. I barely touch any of the food, no ice cream. We go back, the room is packed, people sleep on the floor next to the bunks.  In the morning, a few kilometers out, a crowded impromtu breakfast spot, and I am happy for the festive feeling of it, walked most of the way to Cassanova alone.

Sarria x2

Sunday, April 5, 2009.
Stay a second night after following the Palm Sunday procession.  I don't feel like walking any further once it's over and work up the courage to ask if I can stay for a second night.  She says "yes" and gives me an actual bed (as opposed to a bunk) and I feel lucky.  Later, not so much.  New pilgrims, freshly started, and therefore not at all tired, in the next room (separated by an arched, doorless, opening), celebrating a birthday, and drink and party until late.  So, no sleep, really.

Vega Valcarce to Galicia

Good tortilla, meet dog again, buy disposable camera, tape my 100 euro bill back together, buy new credential. Cold, dirty albergue, where Spaniard man giggles all night and keeps me awake. It rains at night, and is dark and wet in the morning when we leave. Turns out the albergue in the next village (Fonfria) was actually open. We weren't sure due to time of year (many of them don't open again until April.)

Villafranca del Bierzo to Vega Valcarce

I leave late and take the low, highway route yet again. I end up staying Albergue do Brasil, the hospitalera touts the hot showers, but when I take mine, the water is freezing. Later she mentions that she forgot to turn on the switch. I don't think she cares much for women. It's the second night they are open, the night before no one stayed, tonight, there are five of us. It's an expensive albergue.  The common area is nice, and I like the shared Brasilian meal, but the sleeping area is a dorm like most albergues. The other American is allergic to latex which includes lettuce and peanuts.

To Villafranca del Bierzo with the American-April Fool's Day

When I go downstairs in the morning, John, the American says that he will walk with me to the next city and go to the bank with me. We leave together, I want to walk the shorter, highway route into town, but try to figure out what he wants, since he's never walked the Camino before and he's doing me a huge, huge, huge favor. We end up walking the road. When we get into Ponferrada, we see his friends in a cafe, and so go into join them, croissants and cafes, and they give you a chocolate candy with that as well. We split up again, and John and I go into the center of town and find a Banco de Santander, good call. This is the only place where cashing the traveller's checks doesn't prove to be a problem. The man at the counter just takes them and processes them. I'm guessing it's because it's a big enough town/city. He takes 200 euros worth of checks and walks away, I consider giving him another fifty, but since he's already started processing them, I refrain. I don't want to seem rude. I didn't end up needed John's spanish, but I am happy for the moral support anyway. It was such a decent thing to offer, he had overheard me saying that I was out of money, and couldn't cash the checks anywhere, and that I was probably going to catch a bus or train back to Madrid or Burgos, where I'm hoping someone will cash them. He said he'd hoped I wouldn't have to do that.

We hang out in the plaza for a bit, seeing people we know, and he goes to buy stamps and a postcard while I stretch against a bench. The Frenchman from Hospital de Orbigo stops by to say that he is going to stay here, he wants to visit the castle and to rest. So do I, but I want to be in Santiago de Compostela for Semana Santa, so figure maybe next time. It's funny, I had known him, and seen what I thought was a different man playing guitar along the Camino, and had no idea he was the same person until this moment. I had the same problem with Andreas, I probably met him at least 4 or 5 times before I realized he was the same person. This is the last time I see him.

John and I head out for Villafranca del Bierzo, and look for a grocery store since there won't be anywhere to eat really until we get there. We split some cheese and bread. We walk until the park next to the winery, and another older woman comes over and asks if we have any water as she lost her bottle and it's still hot and sunny out. John gives her one of his bottles. I run across the highway to a gas station to use the restroom, since there aren't any others along this section. We go into a cathedral in Cacabelos where people are making preparations for Holy Week, but there are no albergues open at this time of year. We rest on a bench near the river and then take the longer route to Villafranca. People keep coming out to try to get us to come in and have a soda or something to drum up business (along Villatuerta del Arriba). John is good at saying no, I'm so tired I want to stop, and I feel like I want to give them some business, but it's late. There is an internet spot out in a field, and they ask us to come in. We don't.
We finally arrive in Villafranca, I'm really glad he was there, I don't think I had it in me to continue all the way. I decide to stay at Ave Fenix, (I like it here, and I want to have the family style dinner/breakfast, though you can't flush tp in the toilets, which always makes me want to pause) and his friends are at the other albergue, so he walks me to Ave Fenix, and hands me half of the cheese and we part ways.

Astorga to Rabanal - 29 de marzo, 2009

Back track to old village, pass on the maragatos meal, loose my watch when I stop to buy bread from the truck, give my extra water to the gang in Santa Catalina de Somoza, run into the weird naked dude in El Ganso which scares the crap outta me because there is no one around. I run to where I find people and sit in front of a closed bar hoping someone else will come along so I can walk with them. The next stretch is long and deserted. When they arrive, we all help move a banner. And I follow them to Rabanal.  I cry through the entire service in Rabanal because I'm freaked out about money. I hadn't been able to cash traveller's checks in Astorga, which was supposed to have a bank that would do it and I'm out of cash, with no way of getting more. I think I have enough to catch a bus to either Burgos or Madrid where I know I can cash them, because I've done it before. This has been the theme of this trip after all. Meet John the American, who I sleep next to, and who tells me I left my socks on my bed the next morning. I thought he was Spanish because he is travelling with a bunch of Spaniards and he speaks it so well. I also meet the Spanish man who does not like to hear snoring and so drags his mattress out the door in the middle of the night. I will see these men again.

Hospital de Orbigo to Astorga - 28 de marzo

Cold morning, time change, German Shepherd, giagantic growling dog, Where I buy my chocolate, find my men again (from Hospital de Orbigo), and give up what I know will be an excellent dinner, for their company and mediocre food (they can't eat there, you have to have a special card from the albergue.) Cannot cash traveller's checks, man gives me a walking tour of the city and the old roman ruins.

Leon a Hospital de Orbigo - 27 de marzo

Where I meet my men, and we get kicked out at the crack of dawn in the freezing morning after the time change. Dinner where we try to only speak Spanish, Korean (Pic) and German man (Sebastian- with a film camera-Praktica, I think), shots of Orujo, Weird bar, snacks for peregrinos

Finally walk to Leon

(Taken from an email I sent at the time.)
YES!!! I actually made it across the entire Meseta this time!!!  Still sunny, but cooler.  Had seen on the news yesterday that it would rain tomorrow, and other people have heard something about possibility of snow coming up.  Was going to send more things forward, but will keep some of the cold weather gear as we still have two passes to cross, and there is snow on the mountains up ahead.  Wow. This was more momentous for me than arriving in Santiago since I haven´t made it previous 2 trips and it was something I wanted on this trip, I´m staying in the convent again and our curfew is 9:30.  Two days ago I walked from Sahagún to Calzadilla de los Hermanillos, not really intending to take the alternative, Roman route, but I walked through this village (Caza de Coto) looking for a bar or a toilet (found neither open) and as I was about to turn back to the regular route these two men stopped me in the street and tried to explain the alternative route to me, I probably partially went because they were so insistant, and also this German (Alex-a woman) showed up about then and said she'd walk it as well, so we began walking. I stopped to take a picture and didn´t turn around until I got about 1 km away and up on a railroad overpass and couldn´t see her anywhere.  It was a stunningly lovely walk, although long, through oak forest of various species, and amazingly red soil, right before the village there is this little oasis with a fountain (place to get water) and benches and before I stopped there I thought I could see someone walking up ahead of me (some other crazy person taking alternative route).  So, I get to the town and my feet really hurt.  There is a man working on his garage roof and I ask him if there is a bar open in town (for coffee) and he says not until 1 pm, but if I want coffee they can make me some. He tells me to take off my pack, and I walk into the yard.  He brings out one of those tv-type trays, only with sides, and moves a chair out for me on the lawn. Then he brings out a tray with a pot of coffee, a pitcher of warm milk, a china cup and saucer, packets of sugar and this container of these hard donut things.  He also asked if I understood Spanish, and then offered me the three papers he´d gotten in the mail.  It was so kind, I was trying to not let him see me cry.  He goes back to the roof.  Connie (a man, Conrad, I think, the one with the dog) walks down the street and sees me in this yard drinking coffee and asks if it´s a bar, no, a restaurant? no.  These people just wanted to offer me coffee.  He asks the man if he can have some too, and walks into the yard and starts eating all the donut things.  No one comes with more coffee, so I give him my cup and he drinks the rest of the pot.  Then the man comes back, and asks if we want more coffee and if we want his homemade orujo (liquor, quite strong), and brings out this bottle and two shot glasses. So, we each have a shot of that, then he brings out another pot of coffee and another cup.  We left some money, but his wife brought it back to me after we´d left, she was semi-offended, they were offering hospitality.  The albergue was another story. The hospitelera stopped by and saw the dog, and said it could absolutely not stay there.  So Connie took a short nap, and they left, my feet were hurting too bad, so I stayed.  The nearest village was 18 more kms (found out later, they´d walked about 26-28 more to Mansanilla de las Mulas, albergue in Reliegos was closed, but we didn´t know that.)  I was feeling weird about staying there alone, and it was super cold.  I hid my stuff and wandered around to see if I could find somewhere to eat. Eventually, I found an open bar, and had a sandwich, but I was nervous about leaving my things, so I ate fast and left.  Then Alex showed up and said she´d stay. The hospitalera came back and we paid.  She said there was a shop that opened at 5 plus a restaurant. I went for a walk and thought this man was following me on a bike, I walked toward the bar because I knew it was open.  At 5 we walk over to find the shop, and the man on the bike is the shop keeper.  Anyway, it was a tiny shop and he called the restaurant and the bar to see if either served food, nope.  So we decide to cook something, plus need food for breakfast and lunch since there are no villages for 24 kms. He keeps pulling random things out of nowhere, and then he shows us box after box after box of cookies. It was funny, it was like he was doing magic tricks. 18 euro later, we leave and make pasta.  Another local woman shows up and watches everything we do. She says if I´m cold, I should wear more clothes.  I think I had on 3 shirts and a jacket at that point. Some cyclists stop by to go to the shop and use the bathroom, but don´t stay. I get up and lock the door at 9, no one else is going to show up.  In the morning, after about 6 kms, the route is closed and rerouted back 2 kms to the original camino.  Alex shows up behind me with this Polish man, and I´m limping because I´ve developed a huge blister on my heel, she gives me a compeed and he gives me some bandaids, and I stumble to find somewhere to sit and take care of the blister.  It´s supposed to only be 13kms from that point to Reliegos, but it took me at least 4 hours. I see this bar, and a sign for an albergue, and as I´m walking to the latter, the Polish man yells over to me from the bar. So I go there first and see that Alex is eating, so I ask the man if I can have that too. It was fried trout and chips (really good actually.) And then the Polish man pulls out a guitar, and we start singing, and the bar tender keeps trying to get us to take shots of liquer or drink wine. Eventually, I order a coffee and he gives me a shot of orujo (also, homemade), and we all start dancing to some cd he has from Brazil or Cuba, and he moves all the chairs, and then 3 hours have passed. At 6:15  Alex decides to walk to next village (we don´t know albergue here is closed), then I do too, he only asks for 5 euro for all that.  I get to Mansanilla as the sun is setting, and get lost briefly, two older women, point me the right direction, by telling me to join them up on the overpass.  Then point out how to get to the albergue.  It seems like a really nice town, someday I´d like to see it. As it was, I just showered and dealt with my nasty foot.   Been a weird couple of days.  Alex told the man at the bar her name was Veronica.  I´d heard previously she was a boy and 17, not a boy, and now she says she´s 22. She´s interesting.  Another odd thing, all these dogs kept showing up at the bar door and waiting for something.  I went out to pet one of them, and it eventually left. A hound dog showed up while the bartendar was there, and eventually he handed the dog a baguette (I don´t know why) and the dog took it and ran off down the street.  Saw the bartendar again, just after I left the two older women, he pulled over in a car. I guess the Polish man was with him, but I didn´t see him. He stopped in the albergue later, not to sleep but to find someone to go drink with him.  Saw him several times today, sleeping in random places, then in the cathedral, drinking wine.  Anyway, this is long. I think I will go to vespers at the convent at 9:30, and I should find something to eat before.  I´m glad I finished this section. It was interesting.  The only two people I recognize at this albergue are the two French women.  I´ve been seeing them everywhere for the past week.  (Really good tortilla and cafe con leche at Bar Casa Blanca before the narrow, scary, bridge crossing.  Some of the best on the Camino.)

Calzadilla-Sahagun

favorite town, no one there to check us in. We try to eat by candle light

Boadilla-Villalcazar, Sunday, March 22, 2009

I wake up and walk over to the main building to have breakfast. Andreas and I end up walking out together and stop to visit a pony tethered in a patch of grass. I think it might be pregnant. I start to pet the horse and then Andreas starts laughing and saying something about the horse and my jacket. Sure enough, I look down and realize that the horse has grabbed my jacket over my navel and has it between it's teeth. I eventually manage to pull the jacket out of it's mouth and back away, the horse proceeds to try to eat a foil candy wrapper on the ground. It's cold out.
We leave town. Andreas is walking faster than I and is soon quite far ahead of me.
It's Sunday morning. I cross the canal, walk up the road and arrive in the main section of Fromista, near the Iglesia San Martin and the albergue. There is a large group from a bus dressed in black capes walking around. They are called "Friends of the Cape" or something to that effect. Both men and women. They are crowded into the closest bar, and I see some people from last night, so I crowd in as well. Someone tells me that he has also walked the Camino and shows me a pin on his cape. It takes awhile to get served since it's chaotic inside. By the time I leave, everyone else has gone on ahead. The wind has picked-up, and I am pelted with tiny rocks as I cross the overpass toward Poblacion de Campos. I stop at the bar in Poblacion for a sandwich, a pack of gallettes and a cafe con leche while I try to decide which route to take to Villalcazar de Sirga. There is the route that veers to the far right and follows a farm road to Villavieco and then along a canal past the Ermita Virgen del Rio then into Villalcazar, and then there is a route that parallels the road through Revenga de Campos, Villarmentero de Campos, and then Villalcazar. I've walked the first route 2x before, and as it's longer, I choose the road, thinking I can continue on to Carrion de los Condes. I hear bells while I'm entering Revenga de Campos, so go and attend mass. When I prop my pack against the wall it gets covered in plaster dust. After the service I stop in the plaza to eat a bag of almonds, and a man comes over to say "hi" and try to strike up a conversation but my spanish isn't very good so we both leave. As I near Villarmentero, I am trying to walk quickly, and suddenly realize that my shoelace has gotten attached to the metal on my other boot, and I frantically try to kick out my foot, but it's no use. Between the momentum from moving and the weight and balance of the pack, I fall forward on the rocky path, first onto my knees and then onto my face. I throw off the pack and roll myself over so that I'm sitting along the side of the road with my legs stretched out in front of me, wondering if it is possibly to have broken my kneecap. It hurts like hell. I look up to see if anyone saw. I'm embarrassed on the one hand, and frightened that that there won't be anyone to help me on the other. There are two people outside a bar aways in front of me, but they don't appear to have noticed. I pull up my pantleg and look at and rub my knees with my hands. I try bending them, then standing. It hurts really bad, but I can walk. (And happy once again for the walking "sticks.") There isn't anywhere to stay here, and I walk over to see if the church is open (I want to look inside), but it's not. I decide to try to walk as far as I possibly can, while I still can. It's not that far to Villalcazar. I arrive, find an open bar, ask if they have a room, they show it to me, it's cold and dirty, but I pay to stay. I come back and ask for the menu and some ice to put on my knee, I only ice the one that hurts the most. After lunch, I clean the bathroom sink so I can wash clothes in it, and then 4 of the others decide to stay in town, too. Dina (the dog) can't stay here, so "Connie" goes and finds a room in the hostel. Lars, Andreas, and Alex stay at the albergue. Lars and I wander around town all day in the cold sun. At one point someone tells me the Cathedral is open, so I dash inside to look around.

The five of us meet later to go out to dinner. Alex has managed to get the heat in our room turned on, but you can't feel it even a foot from the radiator. The shower water is cold as well. We go to the first bar, but there are only leftovers, so we try to see if the one of the other kitchens are open. We find one in a hotel. I think there is some misunderstanding in ordering and Alex ends up with two bowls of soup, it has tiny bones in it, I think it's from a foot of some kind. Connie has the rabbit, and pretty much licks his plate clean. They all start talking in German, I speak a little in Spanish to the proprietors, but get bored and go back to the room. Two of them crawl into bed together and I tell them that if they make any noise, I'll huck stuff at them. I'm tired, and kinda' annoyed that I spent most of the day outside freezing (although, it's true, the room wasn't really any warmer.)

Hontanas-Castrojeriz

Walk to San Anton looking out for quail and rabbits. Arrive early in Castrojeriz, and go into a bar near the entrance of town for tostada and cafe con leche. Somehow the bartender and I strike up a conversation and I mention that this is my third time in the bar. He asks when and I tell him, 2005, 2007 and now. He laughs and says I'll be back in 2011. I'm not planning on staying but I wander over to the farmacia and show my hands to the woman there. I'm covered with white blisters and red splotches. She sells me some ointment, and then I wander back into town. I walk into an albergue I've stayed in before, there isn't anyone around, and I see a sign stating that it has been fumigated recently, and so I leave. Run into Andreas and Connie, and they say I should stay where they are, which turns out to be the camping place back near the entrance of town. I don't think it's officially open, it's freezing at night. (Also, it turns out that many of the albergues have been fumigated, I just hadn't noticed the signs before.)

Hike up to the castle. It's Friday and kids are out getting their kicks in the bodegas in the hillside. It's a disconnect for me, and I have to continually remind myself that I'm the one on the pilgrimage, everyone else is just out living their lives, and kids everywhere probably party on a Friday night. It's super windy up at the castle. I take a bunch up pictures where the roads all meet down near the town, the spot reminds me of a navel.

Connie and Andreas had gone out drinking, and come stumbling in late, drunk and loud.  I don't know them well, and am a little afraid, but at this point, there is no where else I can go.  I have a bad cough, and someone had bought me honey, so I take it, and try to fall asleep.  I leave before either of them wake up.

Belorado-San Juan de Ortega-Burgos

By the time I arrive in San Juan de Ortega my feet hurt so bad I lie on a bench near the Swiss-Chinese-Indian man and try to decided if I will continue on to next village, as was my intention, or not. We go on a tour of the Iglesia, he loans me his flashlight to go check out the lower level, but there's nothing down there. Eventually, we both to decide to stay. There are 6 of us, and then later another man arrives, though chooses not to interact with any of us.

There is a man burning brush out back and the ashes come in through the bathroom window. Later, he and his dog are in the bar. I have found that since I arrived, my knees have started to hurt, I'm having trouble going up and down the stairs. I put on every type of ointment that might work and hope for the best. It's a long walk to Burgos. Downstairs there is a bus schedule, I think it stops outside, but then realize I am mistaken and it stops along the N-120 near Zalduendo. I look at the Swiss man's guidebook to see what the route choices are. At 7 pm, we go downstairs for the sopa de ajo, a tradition carried forward from when the priest was still alive and the convent was still here. The albergue is now run by an association. On the really bright side, you no longer have to wash your laundry in the fountain (although there was something to be said for that experience, aside from polluting the water with soap) and there is heat in the rooms. The six of us head over to the bar, which has remained open for us. We have omelettes (French-style), with salads that have pickled onions and gherkins with them, and bread. I forgot my camera, but everyone else takes pictures. I think that it was 6 euro altogether, and really excellent. The Swiss man and I stop to look at the stars, in an amazingly clear and cold evening (one of the joys of walking in winter, it gets dark early enough to see the stars.) I had only recently learned to identify Orion. And I joke to him that I only know of 2 constellations: Orion and the Big Dipper. There are millions of stars out tonight. Such a beautiful sky! But it's really cold, and after a few moments, we go back into the warmth of the albergue.

17 de marzo - In the morning my knees have not improved. I walk out in the cold, past the bar, only to realize that I forgot a camisole thing I like. So, I go back. The dog, friendly enough last night, has been behaving a bit aggressive, though from a bit of a distance. I go back into the albergue, only the man I don't know is still there, I crawl around and look under the beds, but can't find it, and so leave. This time as I walk down the road, the dog is growling and approaching me. The bartender from last night sees this and says that the dog is afraid of the walking sticks, so I pick them up and carry them higher. The dog backs off. (I will find this is often the case.)

When I arrive at the entrance to the woods that leads to Ages, there is a sign with an "alternative" way to Burgos. It looks like it might be flat, following the highway. I decide to go that way, thinking that it will be easier on my knees (and the cattle guard in the forest freaks me out, the holes in the grate are almost the same size as my shoes, last time I came this way I threw my pack over and crawled through the barbed wire fence) as well as thinking that maybe I will catch the bus. The way follows the road (mostly used by logging trucks) as it winds down to Santovenia de Oca, and then over to the highway. Don't see another soul until I follow the road out of Santovenia to a truck stop along the highway. I go in and order toast and a coffee. The toast is large slices of baguettes, coffee is good, and the bathrooms are super clean. I think there is a hotel attached as well. Truckers come and go. After I leave, just as I have found the Camino markers, that pretty much shadow the highway all day to Burgos, and am thinking that this seems like a nice enough option, a truck passes me and then I hear an explosion behind me. When I turn, all I can see is a big wall of smoke drifting across the fields. Then I see the truck emerge out of the smoke, hobbling into the parking lot.

The route passes through Zalduendo (I choose not to catch the bus), Ibeas de Juarros, Castillo del Val, and Castanares before arriving at the outskirts of Burgos. My guidebook says to cross the highway toward the river, I can't figure out how to approach the river, but see "las flechas amarillos" so follow them along a very narrowed deserted path, which them comes alongside abandoned buildings, and eventually through a pedestrian tunnel under the train tracks. I wouldn't want to walk here late in the day. Finally arrive at the Cathedral and see both Agnes and Alex. We are all trying to find the new albergue, which is somewhere near here. I run into the Museum entrance where I think I can get help, they give me a map. After wandering and still not finding it, I go back to the turismo in the same square and they try to direct me again. I get on the right street (though I am unaware of this) and attempt to climb some stairs when a workman blocks my path to tell me just to go down the street further pointing to"la puerta marron." I keep thinking, "there is no purple door," until I remember that actually means "brown" and lo and behold, it's the albergue. There is still some construction going on, but a couple of the floors are open. After I get settled and clean, the woman at the desk shows me where I can go find socks (since I left all of mine in Santo Domingo.) Turns out to be the same place as I bought boots on my last trip.

Belorado

The road reroutes away from the highway as you approach Granon. A few of us take the path that leads away from town and double back. Finally find an open bar. The woman makes us sandwiches, coffee and then gives us olives and magdalenas. It's Agnes and I and I can't remember which of the men, don't think it's Peter. We talk with her for a while then head out toward Belorado. As Agnes and I are crossing the border into Castilla-Leon, I realize that I left all of my socks (minus the ones on my feet) on the radiator in Santo Domingo. I shan't go back to get them.

I end up staying at the first albergue on the outskirts of Belorado. I am joined by Peter, the Swiss man that I think walked across France so far (and ditched his sleeping bag at some point to cut back on weight/bulk) and the Irish journalist from Belfast that is moving to the Middle East after this trip. We all walk into town to try to find dinner, but end up eating at the albergue. My food is edible because it's just fried eggs with jamon, which is fresh. Their food is awful, especially the bird, chicken? I don't know. Burnt and inedible. They don't want to pay the full price because we are barely able to eat any of it. I think it's 9 euro for the menu, which is typical, but hit and miss on quality. I can't say I blame them, because they had to pay for food that they didn't really eat, and while I can understand why we are being served leftovers, and lord only knows how old they are, because it's slow season, it's a Sunday, there is no cook working (it's heated up in a microwave, except mine) maybe there could be a simpler menu that could be fresh? I don't know. They asked to see the owner who comes out and the translation is pretty bad, my spanish is rudimentary, but I might be the one that understands english/spanish the best. It gets heated, and I get up and just pay, since I ate all of my food, and the girl looks like she might cry, though perhaps I'm projecting. I don't know how it ends up.

The boys go out, presumably to meet girls, though on a Sunday night not sure how that goes. They come back early and the door is still unlocked. I'm awake, and I hear the Irish man offer the Swiss man his sleeping bag. The latter declines, but such a nice thing to do.

Najera to Santo Domingo de la Calzada

As I leave Najera in the morning, I pass by the hiking area and think to myself that I'd really like to come back here with a car so that I'd have enough energy to hike around (for fun, without the big pack.) As it turns out, I think that there were only 6 or 7 of us at the albergue last night. I had been thinking of going to Mass, and was just going to heat up my can of lentils and hunk of chorizo, but the stove was not quite sure if it wanted to heat up, and it took over 45 minutes to get warm. Agnes, from Hungary, is trying to boil water for tea, I think that she eventually gives up.

The hospitalero has friends or family over playing cards in the lobby area. At first this annoys me because it's loud, but then I get over myself, and kinda' enjoy the idea of the locals hanging out there as if in a living room, and that the hospitalero has company. It's only March, I think this albergue is open all year, it probably gets pretty lonely here for most of the winter.

I stop at the bar in Azofra for a cafe con leche and something to eat. Run into the German man and the others who didn't want to stay in Najera because it was "too big," (actually, most of the bunks were taped off so as to not be used) and they didn't want to be around a bunch of snoring people...pointing out of course that he snores the loudest of all. Anyway, they stayed in rooms above the bar, said they were quite nice, and are just rolling out to get walking now around 10 am or so. I think one of the albergues here was open, the smaller one. Go and pick up snacks in the shop across the street, I think last time I came through here, I went to the store and was getting ready to leave town when I realized I had forgotten to pay the bar, and had to run back. When I was here in 2005, I remember a baby, wearing only a diaper came running at me out of the bar, wide eyed, smiling, and with arms open and reaching out to me.

It's another sunny day, though cold. Stop past the golf course on the hill, where I buy an ice cream from the machine and sit on the curb to eat it. This is a newish place. So many of the condos are for sale. It's very empty (of people.) Stop in a park in the next (detoured) village to tape up my feet more and then begin the long walk to Santo Domingo. Pass the German man again and the Czech woman from last night, having a smoke in the shade of some hay bales. Keep walking. There are some alkaline pools on the side of the path, white and cakey. Run into the Dutch guidebook author again, as I'm passing the potato factory, and walk into town with him. He doesn't stay in the albergues. I go and stay in the chicken one. The Cathedral is closed for repairs so no good luck from hearing the cock crow. The chicken are out in the back as I was my laundry at the albergue, clucking as I wash my clothes in the freezing water, looking at me curiously as I make weird noises when my hands freeze. I think they crow and I decide that's good enough. I enjoy their company.

After mass, I come back to eat my can of lentils which Jenz refers to as "dog food." Antonio convinces me his food is better, and as we only have a couple of burners, I eat his pasta and cheese and zucchini (pasta has been making my stomache hurt, but I eat it anyway.) He takes our picture. And even though I know the ceiling is low, I manage to smack my head multiple times when I go into the bathroom.

In the morning, the hospitalera chastises me for my pack being too heavy, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it at this point. The weather has been good so far, but who knows what the days will bring? It is still officially winter.

Logroño to Navarette to Najera

Leave to try to find the Oficina de Correo, in 2005 there was one near to the albergue, but after asking around, I find the only one anyone knows of is back near the bus station. Antonio and one of the other men are going to the clinic to have feet looked at, and say that I should go with them, so I do. The upshot is, that after that side trip, I search for the Camino route, and stop a couple times for snacks, and so don't end up leaving the outskirts of town until fairly late, after 11 am.

It's quite warm out and my feet are tired, so I'm dragging by the time I get to Navarette. The municipal albergue is closed for another couple of weeks. I think that there is a private one, but I have no idea where to find it. I don't feel like walking to Nájera, and I have been told (possibly falsely) that Ventosa is closed. Finally work up the energy to find someone to ask and she points me in the general direction. It's through an alley. The woman offers me a private room for 15 euros, and I take it so I can dump out my bag, and get some sleep without someone snoring. Neither the stove nor the washer are working. (I find out later the price for the shared room was 10 euros.)

I have one of the best dinners I have had in Spain at the Rey Sancho hotel. The waiter seems nice, he's from Colombia, I'm a bit nervous about the food, as I am the only customer, but it's really good. I've been feeling sick all day, so can't enjoy it as much as it deserves...it came with vegetables too.

Estella to Logroño

10 de marzo, 2009

I get up early and drag all of my things out into the foyer so as not to disturb anyone else. The Korean woman is also up and packing. It takes me forever to get up and out the door in the morning along the Camino. I think it's because I have too much in my bag, also, that I have to take everything out to put my sleeping bag in the bottom of the bag (because I have everything inside a plastic garbage sack inside my pack in case of rain. This works quite well.) At any rate, after going down to have breakfast, the usual cafe con leche, melba toast and/or bread and/or crackers with margarine and jam, and by the time I am ready to leave, I am one of the last out the door. It is still a bit dark out. In the summer, I think you have to leave between 4:30 (!) and 7:30 am.

I walk out of the old part of Estella, past the gas station (where I've had a second cafe con leche and something to eat on both previous Caminos, while waiting for more daylight-photo is from 2007) and around the supermarket where I meet another older peregrino I have not seen before. He turns out to be the hospitalero for the albergue in Ayegui. I ask if the albergue was open. I had heard that the other Canadian women had planned on staying there, he said that it usually is when he is around, but then he also tells me that he is just now returning from Santiago de Compostela, so I remain unclear if it was open or not. We walk together until we reach the albergue and say good-bye. It is a beautiful, bright, sunny yet chilly, morning.

Soon I reach the wine fountain at Irache. There are a couple of other peregrinos there, and a fair amount of wine in the tap (sometimes, it's just a drip.) I have a drink, and then fill my bottle with water. As I'm leaving the Monastery grounds, I spy a couple of woodpeckers, and far off in the distance, what apears to be a building of some sort carved into the cliffs. I never do figure out if it is a trick of my eyes or if it's actually there.

10 de marzo, Estela to Los Arcos

After leaving the main part of Estela, I start walking with a man that turns out to be the hospitalero at the albergue in Ayegui. We had been wondering if it was open, and I'm slightly confused as he says it's open when he is there, but he has just returned from Santiago this morning, so I'm guessing it wasn't open last night. Walk on to the Bodega Irache. Have some wine from the fountain, I think it might be 8 or 8:30 am, then fill my jug with water. As I'm leaving the monastery, I see a couple of woodpeckers flying from tree to tree. Then in the distant cliffs, it looks as if there is a building built into the cliff-face, but it's so far away, I can't tell for sure. Even though I ate breakfast at the albergue, I'm hungry. Partially, it's that I know there is no where to eat until Villamayor Monjardin, if I am lucky, and then not again until Los Arcos. Villamayor Monjardin to Los Arcos is also one of my least favorite stretches of the Camino. I have no good reason for feeling this way. It's a beautiful area, I suppose it's the meandering for the 12 kms.

I drink too much water and coffee and by the time I get to a resting spot (a clearing with places to sit) near Los Arcos, I have to pee so bad that I throw off my pack and run into some rushes off of the path. Looking for a secluded spot, I come across bleached out bones strewn about. Creeps me out, though they appear to have been here for a while, from shepherds? wolves? don't know. Jump back out and throw on pack and get moving to Los Arcos. I'm close but probably another 15-30 minutes away.

Finally, on the road

Via a very roundabout way where I lost my credit and debit cards, visited an amazing friend in France, visited Lourdes for 2 days and finally caught a train to Irun (very happy to be in Spain, if only because I could understand people again, sad but true) and then to Pamplona, I have begun my Camino. Arrived too late into Pamplona to get to Roncesvalles, so began my camino there. One hostel is open now, the Casa Paderborn, just after the Puenta Magdelena and to the left instead of following the Camino to the right into the city. There were 3 other women besides myself there, all Canadian. 3 Irish men, a couple of Germans, a Swiss and 2 cyclists. There were about 28 at the main albergue in Puente la Reina, and there might be 12 of us in the room tonight. This is just to say that there are many more people than I was expecting. I met 4 people in Irun who were going to start in Puente la Reina, so a day ahead.

The people who crossed from St. Jean, did so in a snowstorm, and then had to follow the road to Zubiri as well, as the Camino was covered over with snow. (I had decided against starting in St. Jean after witnessing the really bad storms in Lourdes and figuring those were also dropping snow on the route from St. Jean to Roncesvalles.) (8 de marzo)The path up Alto de Perdon had a patch of snow, but it´s been fairly warm for winter. The almond trees and patches of wildflowers were in bloom. I had wanted to go to Eunate, but am feeling tired and muddy and so, once again, walk straight to Puente la Reina. Next time? (I went there in 2005, it was lovely.) There are more people here tonight, I think 3 of the rooms are full. Someone snores quite loudly and Beth is convinced it's Peter, though later I realize that he doesn't snore at all, it's a different German man. The other 2 Canadians do not arrive. I heard one of them was having problems with her knee. It's interesting, on this Camino, there are many injuries early on, lots of knees, infected blisters, tendonitis, sore ankles and general sore feet. Early on, people are being told to rest, not walk, or they leave because of injuries. This all within the first few days of walking, granted, this is a difficult section of the Camino. Only 2 of the showers work. I go to mass and then everyone seems to end up having dinner in the same restaurant, I dine with a British man that was also at the mass, his name is John. I think we were the only 2 pilgrims there.

(9 de marzo, Puente la Reina a Estrella) The albergues in Lorca seemed closed, the one on the left as you are walking through town looked like it was having major construction. There is a bodega as you leave town which is new since I was last here. There are some tables and chairs outside a butcher shop as well as a pop machine, and I join the Dutch guidebook author there and eat a can of tuna with some bread. Then walk on to Villatuerta. The Ermita de San Miguel is locked, though I can see in through the grating. Past the bridge is a horse tethered to the ground and a bit tangled in the line. I consider helping it, but I'm afraid I will spook it, so leave it to it's own devices. Further up the road, there is another horse, a white one, also tethered that has crossed the road leaving the rope laying across the road. It's been sunny out most of the day, and I see a dry metal bowl, I pour what's left of my plain water in it and the horse walks back over and slurps it down, I wish I'd had more. I stay in the albergue as you enter town, the one where you have to leave early.

We all have dinner together, which is great as the whole meal ends up only at about 2 Euro (if I haven't mentioned, I think I can last 'til Santiago, if I only spend 20 Euro/day, ha ha) most of the men go out drinking, before they leave I mention that the doors lock at ten and that I think this is pretty strict here. Another man that is walking in reverse (back from Santiago) is trying to open a wine bottle, but no one seems to have a key, he ends up breaking the neck, he offers me some but the broken glass kinda' weirds me out so I decline. He tells stories about some of the albergues where he's stayed, what's been open, what's been closed.

Those of us that didn't go out, go to bed, we are all in the same room. Around ten there is a ruckus, voices yelling. Apparently, the Irish son got locked out of the albergue. The father says that the hospitalero locked the doors early before the son could get in, and there is an argument where people are mouthing off at each other. They finally come back up to the room, but are riled up and noisy, they start drinking in the room. Beth and I both tell them to shut up. I think there is going to be some sorta disrespectful mess left behind as revenge, but happily in the morning, there is not. Someone is snoring, and Beth thinks it's the man in the bunk below mine, and starts poking him with her walking stick. I find out later it wasn't him, and he was actually awake. I mention it to him later and apologize and he laughs. Tomas or Thomas? Super nice guy. I have to get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, as I walk back out to my bed, the older Irish man is walking to the bathroom buck naked....more than I'd cared to see.

Pamplona, España 7 de marzo

Madrid to Paris to Strausborg to Mulhouse to Wittleshiem to Strausborg to Paris to Lourdes to Irun to Pamplona, a week and a half later and I am back in Spain with money lent to me by my friend, my boss and my dad, Western Union, no one is using my bank account, but my bank wouldn't issue a new card or let me access my account (Washington Mutual, rip.) I put half into Euro Traveller's Checks because it was brought to my attention that if I can lose money once, surely it could happen again, and there isn't anyone else that'll help me out (not said to me by any of the wonderful people that actually wired the money, incidently.) On the train from Lourdes to Irun I get into trouble with the conductor because I didn't punch the ticket before I boarded the train. I sorta' thought I was supposed to, but didn't see the machine. I play dumb American, at any rate, I can't really understand French, and he says that normally I would be charged 10 euro, but he's going to let it pass. It's possible he said that to me in English. I understood it. In Irun, I ask about an oficina de correo, but the woman at the information counter doesn't know where there is one nearby. I have 4 hours, so I go out to look for one. After wandering around for a while, I finally ask a man on the street that I've crossed paths with several times if there is one nearby. He walks me there, even offers to help carry things for me. I'm happy he is speaking spanish. I'm happy he knew what I was asking. In the oficina de correo, I send things forward to Santiago, I'll have to get there one way or another now. I keep answering the clerk in French, go figure. I see yellow arrows on the street and wonder if I should just follow them. In the end, I go back to train station to wait. The man that runs the magazine stand, closes shop for siesta then returns a few hours later and asks me if I'm bored.

When I arrive in Pamplona it's too late to get to Roncesvalles, and later I find out that there is no bus in the afternoon on Saturdays during the winter anyway. I have read that there are no albergues open in Pamplona now, and while I'm looking at a bus schedule outside of the train station, seeing if I can get to Trinidad de Arre (I like that albergue), a woman I'd seen in the train station in Irun walks over and somehow we figure out that we are both walking the Camino. She has as hand-drawn map to an albergue in Pamplona where her friend is currently resting. So I agree to walk with her to find it. (Paderborn?) She is studying for her Master's degree in Social Work in France, and she and her friend are going to walk the Camino for a few days during a break between classes. She mostly speaks French. Somehow she has a conversation with a woman who only speaks Spanish, but I think in the end they understand one another, and we walk in the general right direction. The albergue is outside the walls, on the way into the city, just after you cross the Puente de Magdalena. A man tries to direct us, but when he is unsure, he stops an older woman on the street. She knows where we need to go, she walks with us, probably a km out of her way so that we do not get lost again. Her name is Anna. I hear similar stories from other peregrinos. The people in Pamplona seem especially friendly and helpful.

We find the albergue. Her friend is there already, as well as several men. The three of us get a room together, and later another woman, Beth, joins us. All three of them are Canadian. The four of us later go out to dinner together to have our first menú del peregrino on the Camino. It's in a recreational center. There are people dressed up and playing cards. We are the only ones eating. The meat is pretty much raw. They try to eat it, I send mine back to be cooked more. Beth 's food looks like a raw piece of meat, with some browning around the edges. To her credit, she manages to eat a fair amount of it.

I feel like I'm only pretending to be a peregrina. I'm still quite frazzled from all that has happened and am unsure how long I can or should stay. I feel guilty for travelling on borrowed money, afraid still of theft and being completely destitute and being told that I should have listened to other peoples' (legitimate, but not necessarily mine to own) fears, and mostly I feel like I am trying to hide from God, and I will get "caught"...doing what, I'm not sure. The problem is that I am unsure if these are obstacles to overcome to learn from, or is this a roadblock telling me to stop? I am currently unable to tell the difference, and have a bad habit of continuing on in a bad situation long past the point where a wiser person would have bailed. And so, which is this?

Madrid, 25 de febrero, 2009

Flew from Seattle-Frankfurt and Frankfurt to Madrid. In Frankfurt I feel a distinct happiness as I walk through the airport even though I understand no one, I enjoy the sense of adventure. I get my passport stamped, but don't fill out any paperwork nor have my bag go through customs as I have always done before, I ask someone, but they say the bag is going straight through to Madrid. Curious. Also, I almost miss my flight, because the gate has been changed.

Catch bus from Barajas to Avenida de Americas, and subway to my stop near the hostel (Cat's Hostel.) Emerge out of the tunnel, to hot and empty streets, siesta on a warm winter day. Finally find hostel after initially walking in wrong direction, realize that I've stayed on this street before, during my first trip to Madrid. Check into hostel. Take shower, wash clothes, and get ready to go to cash machine and to find a phone I can use in Spain. Check my money belt. Check my pants' pockets. Check my two jackets. Look through my bag. Dump bag out and dig through everything. I no longer have a credit card nor a debit card, and less than 300 euros in cash. I start to panic. Woman in my room, says to me that when she saw me dump out my bag she got a bad feeling about it. Trying very hard not to cry. And my brain has stopped providing me with real practical information. I'm about to become destitute in a country where I can marginally speak the language, and I can't change my plane ticket without a credit card, and I'm here for 7 weeks. This is day one. What had started out with so much promise, is descending now into a nightmare...and also, I don't want to go home.

The Camino de Santiago is a pilgrimmage to what is believed to be the bones of St. James, in Santiago de Compostela, Galicia, Spain. There are many roads that lead there, the one that I have walked is known as the Camino Francés, it crosses the Pyrenees between Saint-Jean-Pied-a-Port in France to Roncesvalles in Spain. In my two previous trips, I started in Roncesvalles, and while I would very much like to start in France on this trip, I also recognize the danger of crossing the Pyrenees alone in winter, with limited daylight, unpredictable weather, so I'll probably start in Roncesvalles or even Pamplona if the weather is bad.

Traditionally, pilgrims (peregrinos) would start walking from where they lived, and there are many paths across Europe to Spain. In the past, most pilgrims travelled for religious reasons, to pay penance and/or to receive time off purgatory for making the trek, and during Holy years, when the Feast of Saint James (July 25) falls on a Sunday, full time off of purgatory. There were also criminals who were sentenced to walk the Camino, and people who were paid to walk the Camino in place of a wealthy patron, as well as servants. Today, pilgrims walk for holiday, spiritual and/or religious reasons, exercise, to experience the Camino because they've read or heard about other pilgrims' stories, or because they've come to a turning point in their lives among many.

I had read Paulo Coelho's book "The Pilgrimage" at some point in the mid-90's and held onto the idea as a dream trip, talking to everyone I met about how I was going to go there someday. Then, in 2004, when I was looking for ideas of vacations, I was reminded that I needed to do this trek, and then a date popped into my head (May 25, 2005, I believe) and so I began planning to go. I saved up a lot of vacation hours, and work was slow, so I was granted a leave of absence, and in late May of 2005 I found myself flying to Madrid with little more than a guidebook and a very limited use of Spanish. It was hot, crowded, I got tendonitis, sprained both ankles, got heat exhaustion (at the end of the trip, no less, and missed my return flight), met lovely, kind people, saw so many beautiful places one would not encounter otherwise, lost my spiritual sense of God and found God in the mundane details of life. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I didn't really have any plans of doing it again. Yet here I am, less than 4 years later, about to embark for the 3rd time. Each trip I feel more trepidation, before I left on the first trip, I only briefly felt any fear, and it was the afternoon before I left.

I think I understand my reasons for the 1rst and 3rd trips. My second Camino remains a bit of a mystery to me still, more on that later.

Peace, Isabel