Buen Camino

I made it out of my COVID isolation onto the Granada train, and was able to join my sister and cohort a couple of days ago. They’d been waiting around for me to arrive and were chomping at the bit to get out of the apartment and go sightseeing. I was too, in spirit, but my lungs were protesting as we clamored up the hills of the Albaicin (Arabic historic neighborhood). Well worth the wheezing, we happened upon an impromptu flamenco music performance at the top of the hill, and some spectacular views of La Alhambra in the distance. We took a break from the hot Spanish sun and had tea among the hookah smokers—what ambiance! The next day I was excited to at last experience what I’ve been looking forward to for a good 40 years: La Alhambra! I’d pictured wandering around, imagining myself in some Arabian Nights reverie. But the joy of traveling diminishes when you find yourself being herded along like sheep by your tour guide. He was actually extremely knowledgeable and I learned so much ab

Once again I am humbled by the inconveniences of traveling, and there’s nothing like being sick with COVID in a foreign country to put me to the test.  After our running around Sevilla and Jerez, I went back my flat a couple of nights ago and began having the sniffles. Halfway through the night I knew what it was. My rapid test confirmed that, though I tried outrun COVID, it chased me around the world and found me here in Spain. It’s easy to feel discouraged, when you’re in a country where the medical practice is very different (i.e., they don’t give Paxlovid here) and you feel lousy and abandoned. But once again, just like last winter when I got sick in AZ, I am counting my blessings. For one thing, I’m in a nice flat with a kitchen so I can drink lots of water and make some tea and keep the fridge stocked. Helen is staying in a place around the corner and she brings me food every day. So now it’s just a matter of not going crazy during the recommended 5 days of isolation. Books, podc

Córdoba has one of the most unique Islamic buildings, which began as a Christian church around 600 AD, was replaced by a mosque that included some Visgothic and Roman ruins, and was later converted back into a cathedral. This is known as the Mezquita. Here’s a glimpse of its splendor. The other impressive Moorish structure is a fortress known as the Alcazar of the Christian Monarchs, also built on top an earlier Moorish palace. What I loved best about this amazing place, however, were the gardens. The narrow cobblestone streets of Córdoba with the wafting scent of orange blossoms remind me of something very primal that I can’t describe. It’s truly magical. Sevilla is our current spot, a slightly larger city with as much beauty, antiquity and heat. My feet are complaining but my eyes are not. Sevilla has its own Alcazar, which was one of the largest palaces in Europe during its heyday, circa 1600 (after having conquered the Moors). I can’t get enough of these tiles, alabaster and wood c

Even though I am just an ordinary tourist again, there’s still so much to appreciate about the Spanish way of life. If any of my friends have noticed the hint of snobbery that I can’t seem to hide, in spite of my aspirations towards humility, this is where it comes from. Europeans know how to live. Accents on beauty, acknowledgements of the ancient past, and at the same time satisfaction with simplicity are all part of the old world mentality. Add a dash of emotional expressiveness and you’ve got a Spaniard. I arrived in downtown Madrid late Saturday night and found myself doing something I thought I’d never do—having dinner st 10:00 at night. The next morning I walked around places I hadn’t been since I was a child, Plaza Mayor, Retiro Park, then made my way to the train station on the Metro. Next stop, Córdoba, a magical mix of ancient cultures with Muslim, Roman, Jewish and Catholic sections of town. It’s exquisitely beautiful but HOT! Yesterday the thermometer crested to 39 C (102

Yesterday was the easiest day, having only about 7 km to walk. It was an emotional day though, because halfway between Pedrouzo and Lavacolla Savanna and I scattered some of Miles’ ashes at one of the many shrines along the Camino. We had a good cry and played a Sinead O’Connor version of The Foggy Dew. Miles always liked Irish music, and it felt right  to honor  both his Anglosaxon and Spanish roots.  When we arrived at the Hotel Ruta Jacobea, we were pretty exhausted from the day before so we took it easy and hung out playing cards and online Scrabble. The hotel was particularly fancy so we feasted on a delicious dinner and our last continental breakfast spread this morning. The final 10-12 kms were victorious as we filed behind other exuberant pilgrims toward the main square and cathedral. There was hugging and music and shouts of emotion among the crowds. Many languages could be heard on the streets, restaurants, in the lines. We waited for the Pilgrim Mass only to be told there we