I started out late, hoping to find a shop open to buy chocolate, and since yesterday was both a Sunday and a holiday, the confectionery shops had been closed. I hop into the Gaudi bar for coffee and breakfast cake, I'm the only customer. The man turns up the sound on the tv so I can listen to the weather report, and is promptly reprimanded by his much younger manager who turns it back down and blasts the required stereo instead, and walks back out. I felt bad for him, following the rules regardless of what circumstances might require has always bothered me, and at any rate, he and I were the only two people in the room, and maybe felt it was far too early in the morning for the music. When I leave the shops are still closed. I take some photos and head out. Can be avoided no longer.
I hate this section, and Denise was murdered here almost 2 years ago. Her killer's trial ended recently. One of the few times I picked up a paper was in El Burgo Ranero, and there were two articles about the sentencing: 23 years, plus restitution to her parents and brother.
Ecce Homme. Unlocked. I walk forward, decide to buy a candle. I think I'm going to light it for the people I've been praying for, but walking back, I see a shell on the wall with her name on it. I light the candle for her, her family, her loved ones, and later for all who are currently walking the camino, particularly this section, and all who will walk, that it might make a difference in the world. That we can bring some light, that our love can wash the stain of this crime from this place. I'm crying. The stain lingers. I have to get up to leave, and I'm still crying, but I think the man wants to lock up. He asks which sello I want, I choose Mary, I need the female energy.
 |
| Ecce Homo, April 17/L Herlevi 2017 |
Long hot walk to Rabanal.
German shepherd who sits in front of me to stare, in Murias de Rechivaldo, he does it 2x while I sit in the courtyard drinking coffee, to guard against me or to guard me, I do not know. Two sparrows have a drag out fight on the ground in front of me, beaks grabbing one another, feet kicking at each other. I drink fast and leave.
Scenery like the Great Basin. Hot again. Uneventful in El Ganso. Australian women. (I'll be with them until Santiago.)
After I wash my pants and jacket (and they are soaked), it starts to rain. We move all the laundry under whatever eaves we can. It pours. It feels festive, like camping.
I make a run for it through the rain to the evening vespers. The inside of the church is worn, it makes me sad. We are rushed out when the vespers are over, no lingering. I guess they have other things to do.
Women cyclists come in late, shine lights in the dark of the sleeping room, slashing through the darkness like a police raid, opening the door, checking phones near where five of us are trying to sleep. Grrs.
The back of my arm is seriously burnt. I get ice from the bartender, and try to sleep with an ice pack balanced on my shoulder.
 |
| A Soft Part of the Morning, April 17/L Herlevi 2017 |
No comments:
Post a Comment