As I write this post I am sheltered in a top-of-the-mountain albergue in Foncebadon a day after the day I write about. M Hart is still heavy, but yesterday's walk though beautiful was difficult. Had it not been for m hiking partner of two days, Colin, who speedily kept us from standing, sitting, or visiting too long in one place. So, the walk from Mazarife to Leon was long, stunningly beautiful, and took us from the Meseta to the foothills of the mountains! Mountains!!
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| The farmers wives of Mazarife. |
The town of Mazarife was so friendly and inviting, the pilgrim gang at our hostel/albergue had a hard time leaving! They insisted on serving us breakfast, so Texas A&M students, faculty, Danes, Austrians, Brits, and me enjoyed a lovely send-off. But the TV was on. There we all learned the news of Orlando. Another. Mass. Shooting. My heart broke tens ways. The students and faculty sat silently in prayer. The Austrians patted me on the back. My friend Colin just sat there with a look of shock on his face. "Why does this keep happening?!" he said. That was the first of twenty conversations through the day that revolved around the shootings, American gun culture, and our lack of political will to make changes.
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| The jousting fields of Hospital de Orbigo |
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| At the Medieval jousting bridge. |
Colin and I made good hiking partners. Out pace is similar and we chatted about our country's differences and how life with national health care works. We stopped for second breakfast and were immediately joined by our Camino family from Mazarife and others. I've gotten to know so many people from all over the world and look forward to reuniting along the path from day to day, sometimes stop by stop. But as soon as we sat, the questions came from all sides. People wanted to hike with me to keep talking. I learned so much about other countries and their gun policies. Everything, except what passes for policy in the U.S., made so much sense.
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| The Meseta ends! |
I couldn't help thinking about everyone at home. How they were dealing with the recent violence. I could hear people talking but I was somewhere else in my heart. All my friends at home who were members of the LGBT community, law enforcement, gun violence survivors. I walked faster and faster. By the time the first hill came into view I felt I had outrun the conversations. Colin said "Hills!!!" and a cheer went up from pilgrims fore and aft. Hills! Goodbye, Meseta!!
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| After some hill climbing, Astorga! |
We stopped for lunch. The same crowd gathered. I was schooled in how guns are managed in Austria, based on lessons of the past (Nazi Germany). Colin jumped up and said let's go! The hills were ours! It was good to churn out the miles up and over the foothills, the snow-topped mountains getting ever closer. We topped the last hill, breathless and out of water. Five kilometers to go.
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| Fresh water! |
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| The Bishop's Palace, Astorga |
Some urban walking and traffic wore we down, but we'd made great time! Coming in to the city Colin's hotel came quickly and off he went for a real bath in a real bathtub. I walked through the city to my room in a hostel on the other side. I stopped to admire the Bishop's Palace designed by Gaudie, a great architect I studied many years ago. He was a hundred years ahead of his time. When I went to walk again, my feet were screaming NO MORE ! I dragged myself to the hostel , checked in, collapsed, woke up in time for a shower and dinner call. More questions from the desk receptionist "What is happening to your country?" Something in me snapped. I waved her off, apologized for my tears, and went into my room for a cry that lasted until midnight.
May I be an instrument of your peace,
Where there is violence, let me bring healing.
Where there is hatred, let me bring love.
