It’s time for our art society’s 60th Anniversary art show. Anyone nearby, please come. Best part, it’s free and right in time for Christmas shopping.
I spent the afternoon matting eight paintings and stuffing cards in cellophane envelopes, which was a feat as we had our second shingles shot yesterday, with accompanying side effects. My teeth were chattering so hard I thought they might crack.
Living in the Pacific Northwest for over half my life, and well familiar with terms for rain, last night's weather report introduced me to a new concept, one that is due to hit within 12 hours. Meet the atmospheric river. National Geographic describes them as rivers in the sky, except that all that water, sometimes 20 times +/- the water contained in the Mississippi River, falls to the ground.
Why was I unfamiliar with this term? Turns out it's a rebranding of our familiar pineapple expresses as they carry moisture from tropical areas toward the earth's poles. Tis the season to hunker down with soup.
We started with a treat: Bouillabaisse. I asked B if he wanted to head to the dock for some crabbing. Given the heavy weather we decided it was worth spending $16 on a large crab rather than buy bait to hang out in the cold wet with no guarantees. It lasted for two dinners and a lunch.
The instant pot was put to work for ham broth and lentil soup. Half the broth went into our favorite from Spain: Caldo Gallego, which is ham, leeks, white beans, potatoes and a mixture of greens – collards, mustard and turnip greens.
Twelve minute Instant Pot beluga lentil soup was third in the line up of comfort food.
Combine soup with the great room fireplace located in the middle of everything, kitchen, living and dining areas and we're all set up for a weekend of storm watching. C says, along the coast people pay for this experience. I remind him that we did when we moved here. So worth it, I'm very thankful.
How much of a whirlwind was that? 63 days, six currencies, and 28 beds worth. We rode on trains, boats, planes, buses and cars and walked another 400+k of the Camino de Santiago.
Now it’s home sweet home, which was well taken care of by son, Bryant, who came to the realization that White Rock isn’t that far from civilization after all. That’s encouraging for the future, but for now we’ll stay put.
I left you last in New York. Next stop was Boston, where we met my sister. Her new Jack Russell puppy stole the show; five wriggling pounds of incredible cuteness.
Next stop was Bermuda where our ship was technically the tallest structure on the island(s).
other than the lighthouse:
My previous visit to Bermuda was 42 years ago and of course it’s changed. Half of the hotels have shut down or been repurposed, the bulk of the tourism being provided by cruise ships. Hamilton, the capitol city has lost its quaintness to growth and traffic not deterred by gas at $9.00US a gallon.
A day and a half at sea took us to the Bahamas, a return to our honeymoon, which then was affordable as we participated in a bartering network. We were booked in for a Windjammer cruise on a four masted schooner, not as romantic as it sounds. While we were queued for embarkation there was an announcement: Who here won this trip on a game show or through bartering? Enthusiastic hands raised, the second announcement followed: This isn’t your ship, please follow the staff member to yours. Reality set in as we were guided to something that resembled a single masted tug boat, providing us with an adventure that included bunk beds, cold water, and interesting guests: a pimp and a prostitute, two drug dealers and a Mormon family who travelled with half of their seven children each year. Makes you wonder about that barter system.
Back to this voyage, the next morning we arrived at Ft. Lauderdale where we were spat off the ship at an unreasonable hour – 8:00 am. A long 20 hours later we were home. And now we’re adjusting to life in our time zone.
We’ve had a week off grid because there is NO way I was going to pay cruise ship prices for unreliable internet. That appeals to the practical part of my nature, just as I’m not spending extra for on-board specialty restaurants for food that comes out of the same kitchen. Bah humbug.
We left Southampton, England in the rain, which followed us across the North Atlantic. Only one day where the seas were 4 meters high and the barf bags appeared in the hallways. I’m ok dosed with Gravol (Dramamine). But it was cool and grey so our time was mostly spent indoors. No suffering there as Celebrity does a good job of keeping guests occupied. My week was spent at shipboard choir practice, enrichment lectures by a broadway historian and LA prosecutor, watercolour class and trivia, in between eating.
We arrived in the pouring rain at Pier 88 in New York. 
Seven days on a cruise ship was incentive to don the waterproof hiking boots and walk for miles, starting with the Highline Park, built on the old elevated freight rails of my nearby NY childhood.
Being experienced cruisers we are used to the vicissitudes of scheduling due to variables such as weather, port issues, and mechanical difficulties. Our original itinerary called for a day in Boston followed by two in New York. It was changed to one in NY, a day at sea traveling to Boston, then on to Bermuda.
Reality: 1.5 days in NY due to high winds, which then damaged the gangway, leaving us literally stuck to the dock. Take off another half day for the customs and immigration process. But the time spent waiting on-board for the repairs was relaxing and the weather glorious.
More later. Wanted to let you know we made it across the ocean.
The days have been quite grey, both during our travels and at home. Thank goodness there are still flowers blooming for contrast.
At the painting group in Denmark, one of the members showed me a photo she took of a sunflower for painting inspiration. I’m sure I took a picture of the same one while out on a walk.
That flower was asking to be painted.
So were the hydrangeas I saw on a rainy day in Spain.
Nine days in Denmark, visiting with nine of C’s cousins, a whirlwind prior to boarding a ship that will take us across the ocean, closer to home.
Chuck’s father was the only one who emigrated to North America in 1924, the rest stayed behind and the family grew. His dad intended the trip to be temporary, a study in different farming techniques, but in the meantime met C’s mother and as they say, the rest is history. He didn’t make it back to Denmark until 1952. This is a photo from that trip, more than half pictured he met for the first time.
Besides the visiting, a highlight of my trip was attending a painting group. This was my painting, partly inspired by the Camino paths we walked and partly the Danish fall colours.
Wifi is going to be sporadic until we’re back home, but check in because I intend on posting when I can.
How do you walk an average of 20k a day, in the delugenous (OK not really a word, but you get the picture) rain, and stay dry? It’s a matter of personal preference, but here are my priorities in order of preference:
Chuck has a waterproof pack, doesn’t like being hot, but doesn’t mind being a tad wet. It’s a matter of priority.
The alarm was set for 7:00am and we woke to pelting rain. We had no choice if we wanted to collect our certificates. In reality I’m the one who wants them, C doesn’t care, but came along for me. I’ve met other couples who experience the same disparity. It is really about the journey, but the certificate is a form of tangible acknowledgment.
We arrived at the pilgrim office by 7:30am in the pouring rain. By 8:00 opening there were perhaps 175 umbrelled or be-ponchoed pilgrims in the queue.
We were #73/74 and it took two hours, 75% of the time in a downstairs holding area with chairs, wc’s and vending machines.
Only four people were processing Compostelas. We had some nice conversations with others while waiting (or as the word esperando also translates in Spanish, hoping). But it did strike me while lined up, what’s more painful than walking? Standing lol.
Afterwards we visited the cathedral to complete the pilgrim rituals, then ran errands in the bucketing rain. I have a list of items from Spain to take home: double caldo bouillon, chocolata taza for chocolate con churro, coffee, spices, and Camino souvenirs.
The historic district in between downpours:
A second later the skies opened.
We had our last dinner in Santiago at our favourite reasonable restaurant, Casa Manolo. It was pilgrim reunion time as we ran into people we had met from Malta, Australia and London.
The evening was spent packing then calling for an early cab so we can continue our travels beyond Galicia. Our little Air B&B apartment was a great fit.
“The Rain in Spain” will be part of my next post; my thoughts on rain gear and distance hiking.
18.7k (15.7+3 in Santiago)
We suspect that some of our accommodations are inherited apartments that the younger generation use as vacation rentals. Many appear to have the original furnishings, and in last night’s case, linens.
It was nice to be in an apartment with a shared kitchen with an oven, as it allowed us to dry a couple more porcinis we picked along the way. The first mushrooms were dried in the convent’s microwave. I keep having to put them in another ziplock as their delicious savoury scent eventually comes through. I think they’re triple bagged now.
Our last day on the Camino trip, in three trips, it’s our fifth time entering Santiago, if you count the two shorter add-on routes we’ve done. Still, it’s an emotional moment in the Cathedral’s plaza.
The weather called for heavy rain, instead at first, the air was heavy and humid. We walked through farmland
and forest
stopping at the top of a hill to view, one last time, from whence we came.
We passed bright hydrangeas, the colour I hadn’t see before on this Camino. They were beautiful despite already fading.
Spain’s scarecrows are unique. The Puerto Rican brothers we met on the Portugues route were collecting photos of them. They would have appreciated this one.
These two Camino dogs had sweet dispositions.
They may be the models for a future dog portrait painting.
The showers started and we took a break at a cafe in a hotel, arranged just for pilgrims in a banquet room. They set up this cut-out to greet us. I think he’d make an effective Camino scarecrow.
We met a couple from Holland who will be visiting Vancouver in June for a three week camping trip. Hopefully we’ll have coffee together again.
We entered Santiago first through an industrial area, then many apartment complexes, to a nice part of the city, past their capitol buildings, a park, approaching the historic district into the cathedral plaza.
We saw the spires of the cathedral from about 5k out, and shortly thereafter the golden arches of McDonalds. There seemed something wrong with that picture.
The cathedral plaza was our intended first stop, then the pilgrim office to have our Compostela and mileage certificates issued.
There is a problem in recent years, that there are way more pilgrims than staff can handle. There’s new system where you can obtain a ticket with a QR code so you can track your turn rather than wait in line.
The issue today was that tickets ran out early and people were told to return in the morning to try again. Those with early flights will be unable to get a certificate, it doesn’t seem fair. If staffing is short, there should be a way to apply for the Compostela online. We’ll try again tomorrow at an early hour and will accept the situation if it doesn’t work out.
It’s part of the transition back to the real world. Everything we do seems like a step away from the Camino. At our little Air B&B apartment I’m on my second load of laundry, clothes that once we are home, will be packed away in the long distance hiking bin, scented with Spanish laundry detergent.
On this rainy evening in Santiago we indulged in comfort food at a nearby cafe. Potato tortilla, Caldo Gallego (my favourite cabbage and white bean soup) and chiperones (small calamari).
I helped a couple from London translate the menu. They asked where I learned to speak Spanish. That made me laugh to myself as my level of knowledge is survival Spanish with advanced skills only in the area of food.
Tomorrow we will complete our Camino rituals, lining up for our Compostelas, viewing the ostuary that contains the bones of Santiago, and hugging his statue in gratitude. They have kept this part of the Cathedral open despite the massive renovation in progress.
It struck me this Camino, as in the past, it’s not about the distance, the speed nor elevation. It’s about putting one foot in front of the other, breathing in and out, and eventually reaching your destination. It’s an exercise in living in the moment. More thoughts later. For tonight…
Buen Camino.
24.4k
You might notice that there is no post for the section from Betanzos to Hospital de Bruma. As we need to arrive in Santiago tomorrow, we skipped a stage via cab. It was a section with an elevation gain of 673 meters and a length of 25k.
So we started with a morning that was cloudy and chilly.
It was mostly an area of farming. We passed a house with a combination mail and bread delivery box. What a luxury to have fresh good bread delivered.
It felt as though we were walking through Old MacDonald’s farm. There were ducks, chickens, and horses. Cows:
Sheep:
And Old MacDonald himself. We had a very interesting conversation with a farmer. He lived in England for 20 years, so his English was good. An older gentleman, he was lamenting the death of the small farms and villages. He explained that his mother raised ten children here with no electricity or plumbing in a 200 year old house. He showed us the creek where she did the laundry by hand. His main point was that they were very happy. Then modern times encroached and people started leaving the area to pursue other lives and the houses and farms are left to die. He was sad about the future of the area. Chuck and the farmer:
We’ve seen some strange things on our Caminos. The two that stick out were sculptures of giant ants and churches with statues of Jesus with real human hair. This time it was a gruesome human eating dinosaur:
It’s boar hunting season in Galicia. We heard the gunshots and saw the vehicles with the dogs. You can only see one sweet dog face in the truck. There were several snarling hounds in there, ready for the hunt.
We spent some time with a man with his own pack of dogs.
He explained in Galician (did you know that Spain has five official regional languages, not dialects of Spanish?), that he takes the dogs up the mountain for hunting. It takes more patience with us when someone speaks Galician, but I understood when he told us to wait because he wanted to give us apples to eat on our way. He brought us a bagful.
Our feet are sore today. I think it’s a combination of walking on pavement and marbles aka millions of acorns and chestnuts.
Maybe the reason it took us seven hours to get to our destination was the amount of time we spent looking for mushrooms. Just maybe.
We found a few porcini and luckily enough, our alburgue has a shared kitchen with an oven where we were able to dry them.
it’s our last night on this segment of the Camino. Tomorrow it’s on to Santiago with 2.5cms (1”) of rain predicted. We’ll finish the way we began in Porto, Portugal.
Life's a Stitch 
