The yellow arrows glowed in the dark places.
This is the moon, a path light this morning on our last day walking the ancient Camino. 16 miles to Santiago, a rest, then home to the same moon lighting a whole new path.
Two thousand year old cousins of Bilbao’s Guggenheim.
Red: The singing is killing me.
Yellow: Seriously. I mean, “Country Roads”? Please.
Red: It’s the “Marching to Pretoria” that has to stop.
Yellow: Could these people be more on the nose?
Thinking of you…Feffi.
Because the wine here is SO good and we’re hoping you’ll source some Txakoli aka “white gold” for US consumption.
Always better after coffee.
Some days it comes. Some days you wait for it to come. When you have to wait for it to come, go look for a tourist office. When the tourist office is closed until October, go look for coffee. When everyone in the world is smoking in the cafe, check out the market where there are shirts and cheese and, yes, the best roast chicken you will ever eat with your hands on a park bench outside the library. And when you are done, and wiping greasy fingers on your socks because you forgot to steal napkins from the smoky cafe, it will not need to come because you will have already arrived.
The Camino is never the fastest way to get from point A to point B.
Thinking of you…Henry.
Because the pace is downright bovine and you would notice everything.