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Month: August, 2017

God. Again. And again.

I found God in several places and faces this morning. It was pretty easy.

El sol. The sun. It rises everyday, everywhere in our solar system. And there it went again today.

Spain 🇪🇸 takes beautiful photos when the sol makes her 14 hour, daily appearance. God certainly makes great things happen here. Our sun ☀️ is at the top of my list, since Earth depends on it.

Lots of pilgrims leaving or passing through Foncebadon at sunrise, which was tempered by descending winds with thick clouds off Mount Irago.

I walked alone. A bike or two passed by. That was it.

2.5km later of beautiful vistas to the east, I arrive at El Cruz de Ferro. Half dozen pilgrims there taking turns for photos. I took these:

Then, I placed and arranged our prayer stones for our family loved ones on a spot with flowers for now and protected from the 300,000+ pairs of feet that go up and down that pile of stones below the revered Iron Cross.

God was on and is in the cross. Great to be back there and to pray one long prayer this Camino. 2 years has made a big difference, it seems.

The vistas. Oh, those Godly vistas. Scientists have spent a century or two trying to understand how another tiny blue marble hasn’t revealed itself. Only one with the ideal relationship with its sun. Hmmm. To me, I see God smiling down upon this.

I hear God in every greeting, every hola, Buen Camino, and buenos dias. That’s real social media of human nature. No iphone needed. No translations required. One language for all. God’s Camino works very well.

Then, I was eerily all alone again. God’s dark side came through with heavy clouds and cold winds swept over the other side of the mountain.

Then, burnt landscape showed up…surrounded by new growth that is thriving.

The Old Testament darkness was replaced by a bright light and my New Testament light, warmth, and green growth. Just in God’s time.

God just kept the wonder coming. One view. One memory. One after another.

As I rounded another Camino corner, I found my town for this night. Acebo.

I was met with “Completo” early and wondered if Molinaseca was ready for me. This very historic town is beautiful but maybe not for me.

When I reach the last stop, flags waving from many countries…well, I had to ask. Popped in. Young lady explained that the Albergue dorm is available for €10 and dinner for the same. Not sure to stay or go, I hear a beautiful English accent from the dining area. Sweet family of 4 sitting there finishing breakfast. They asked all questions and I answered. They were a joy, with two girls that were our girls age back when we took them to B&B’s and the like. We talked for a while and then we were interrupted.

Young German fellow yelled “Brad” and we were reunited. 3 Germans, one man + two young ladies, are here. We dined together day’s ago.

R&R for two days. Nice place. We all leave tomorrow, but they will leave me.

My heart ❤️ is in Molinaseca in any Camino. My perfecto Espana village for picnics, chilly water, sun, and lots of food options. The Camino provides…

Back to my Albergue, the two girls from England told me that the pool was freezing cold. I believe it.

Fair warning. I took my vino tinto and a chaise lounge and parked myself under the furthest thatch umbrella. Nature took its course and I siesta’d for two hours.

Up and rested, I headed back up into Acebo. Not much going on, but the B&B gal spoke exceptional English and my vino tinto & plate of charcuterie came out to my patio seating. It was over an hour in a garden well spent.

God’s creations were many right in my face.

I paid my €11 and ventured north. Lots of laundry to go with peregrinos hanging out. Made it to the top and the town intro sign and turned around to head home.

What do I smell???? I enter an Albergue and follow my nose …I take a left into la cucina. There he is. Older. Wiser. Been doing this a while…I push the stringed beads aside…no door is without loud beads. I take a left, enter his cucina , and I say “Hola!” He says the same and cuts short mi espanol. “American ?” He says. Si. Turns out that this tiny Albergue has a chef from N. California and his name is Walter. Can’t make this up.

He’s a joy. We chat. He cooks. Smells divine. I tell him where I’m from and pardon myself when a peregrino needs his attention. Anyway, I have my own peregrino dinner for €10 to attend. Off I go.

If my first course is any indication. Well. Perfecto. It is an insalata work of art.

Everyone else is late or, in 🇪🇸 , perfectly on time. I nibble on my queso & Jamon as long as I think is appropot. Bon apetit, Bradley.

Others made it. All sat and kept to themselves…for a while.

Americans are rare around here. My “look” was discussed again. How do Italians and English and Germans at our table avoid their look? They were more fun to chat with as dinner proceeded.

My young Germans stopped by one last time. It was sweet. Snapped last photo for my memory. Very sweet and curious peregrinos.

Night is falling en Spain 🇪🇸!

God saying “goodnight, my child “

Buenos noches, my God.

Camino stories..

I love stories.

Not fiction. Real stories.

Real people doing what they do and not afraid to share it.

Walking every day across the north of Spain certainly offers a lot of stories, given generously or slipped in maybe by accident. Maybe not.

Two tough gals from Germany 🇩🇪, over fresh paella, made my first communal dinner this year much more interesting and entertaining …

I text my daughter about her German experience and both women were so cool 😎 about it. They knew exactly where she had lived and served outside of Munich.

I’m not quite half-way through this Camino and I cannot possibly transfer the conversational interaction between myself and around two dozen or so other pilgrims. Mostly Italian this time, then French, German, Spanish, English, Argentinian and Hungarian…as seen here….love them all……

Just 2 happy Americans and they were married, thank God.

This is the greatest place in the world to really find out what other cultures think of our American culture AND their own. Same the other way around. What this Americano thinks about Espana and the man who’s name shall not be mentioned. Abundant honesty is here on the Camino, since we may never see one another again. Or will we????. Walls come down that way.

Perfecto! This IS the wonderful space to escape America and all of her current dysfunction right now.

A deserted island 🌴 would work well too, but Spain 🇪🇸 has varied scenery, sweet people, delicious tapas, pulpo, vino tinto, and cervesas. They keep you going after a long half-day of walking 20-30km and afternoon siesta.

And dinner. Sweet peregrino dinner with Italians all..

I will really miss mi amigos , Nicoletta & Filippo , dos kind & sweet people. I ❤️ them. My Love and I have our Italian friends when we sail their way. Jump on our catamaran, you two lovely friends!!!!

A little more than two weeks and I will walk or limp into Santiago and get my next Compostela in Santiago.

Then back to Madrid and fly home.

The Camino is at home too. Trails resemble the peace and the chaos of regular American lives. Cars rule the day. Schedules rule the lives. Nature is slowly paved over. Progress is profit over peace. All very American.

I prefer any alternative to that.

Pura Vida in Costa Rica 🇨🇷?

Not Costa Rica, but you get my Good Life, Pura Vida point, no?

Spain 🇪🇸 & Italy 🇮🇹 have a very similar way of embracing life.

And those kinds of cultures tend to allow people to live longer and show their future generations what really living well is. Pura Vida, si.

Gracias, amigos. Thanks, new friends for lifelong memories and valued education about a bigger world 🌎 than our little America.

Buenos noches,

#MyComfyCamino realities..

I'll bet you $'s to €'s that you've never read such a post as this!

Older men issues on the Camino….

It looks like #MyComfyCamino blog post earlier this month struck a nerve in a mostly positive way.

But, I left out a few important and practical matters about why I choose to find my best "uno habaticion privada" options on My Camino. It's for me AND for my nightly group of fellow pilgrims, for what are just a few more Euros going to good people anyway.

My Comfy Camino issue #1:

I wake up too early. 3am last night. Almost 4am this morning. Toss and turning. Deep breathing. No more sleep for now. Tossing makes noise. Getting up makes noise. Connecting with home and reading on my phone creates a light. If one is self-aware at all, who wants to be that guy who invites all around him to his wake up party?

My Comfy Camino issue #2:

Older men usually have to pee in the wee-wee hours of the morning. On road trips, My Love and our girls would joke about "dad's bladder of a yak" when stopping more frequently for them to make water. (Granted, this was before google and our Encyclopedia Britannica, Vol. "Y" was back at the house. If we insulted any yaks along our way, sincerest apologies to any offended yaks.)

Back to the here and now. Getting up to relieve oneself is annoying enough to the one you sleep with at home. I can't imagine the level of irritation from any light sleepers when one or more of us pilgrims/strangers get up at random times, maybe shake the bunk a little, maybe creak a bit with the floor, squeak a door or two, then FLUSH!!!!, and creak and squeak all over again upon return.

You feeling the love for older men yet?

My Comfy Camino issue #3:

Older men make noises. Snoring is one of the top pilgrim complaints. Ear plugs can help, but what if there's a chorus of men AND women heavy breathing to sawing very tough logs with their symphony of esophageal instruments? No one sleeps well, especially the ones suffering from sleep apnea, which is fairly common with larger people. I had it years ago when I weighed over 300 pounds. Not pretty for all involved. And, we older men make other noises just breathing, clearing the throat, sniffing, snorting, and blowing our nose too. We just do and everyone we love, who's travelled with us, knows this so well.

I understand that the pilgrim experience is different for everyone. My Comfy Camino may not be the cheapest budget, but I appreciate the Comfy options for me and, indirectly, for my fellow pilgrims. And I'm sure that our various hosts here in Spain appreciate the extra Euros. It is, along with communal meals, how they pay their bills. Gracias.

On that note of thanks, I must take my leave and do what older men do, just across the hall. This former yak must empty again.

BTW, this is one pilgrim who refuses to poop on the Camino. I would give you my older man secrets there, but I've shared enough already. 😉

Buen Camino. 🌅

Ultreia!🇪🇸

Losing it, them, and me….

Get lost!

It's what you think and/or say to things and/or people that annoy to anger you. These damn flies right now are my tiny, annoying nemesis's .

Even our largest social media enterprise makes "like","dislike ", and "banished from my kingdom" distinctions available to us. But that's not the real world nor real loss. Really getting lost has costs.

Getting lost on one's Camino takes on several possible meanings.

I lost my water bottle. True story. Big blue is lost to me. But found by someone at my hostel in Leon. Cheers!

I lost my shirt. No, not $$$ gambling. I had an ink pen explode of me and I looked like a shooting victim who bleeds black blood…right as I enter Leon. I temporarily lost my dignity too.

I lost my senses. More than 30km walking a week ago from Burgos to Hontanas, I lost my senses, hydration, and ability to photo or film life right side up. None of you have seen the upside down world that I captured. Funny stuff.

I really did get lost today. Saint James and Jesus must have been laughing their sandals off at this "pilgrim" going astray down an unknown road, whipping out his compass, and wandering through the wilderness to the road of golden arrows. With my wits and I little help, I found my way. Ha!

I lost my good healthy body. That is inevitable on the Camino. We just hope and pray for decades more to share when we return home. My swollen lower leg pales in comparison to the life taken recently and a lovely family left to deal with that loss of a kind man, husband, and father. That is true loss to a turn in good health.

On that note, not to long ago, I lost my heathy sobriety. When outed, I then chose to lose my Russian-American alcoholic me for a much better Euro-American alcoholic me. Took a few millions literal steps to arrive there. One dozen just wouldn't do for me. Cheers!

Decades ago, I lost my marriage. I must have been lost in other ways too to just lose a love that was once there. Terrible loss then became a tremendous gain later with My Love taking her place forever.

Years later, I lost people who mattered. From my business mentor and his wife, our great friends, to old school chums and really good men who died so soon, to my father, who at 78, was relieved of his pains, suffering, and memory loss as I was almost 45. All too, too soon…but dad's gain was our loss, for sure.

Lost it. Quite a loaded phrase. We all eventually lose things. People. Ourselves.

Our challenge is to find meaningful things, people, and, yes, ourselves.

It certainly does not require a trip to and pilgrimage across Spain, but this place certainly does not hurt my sense of meaning and purpose.

I don't missing any THING. I only miss my people. My Love. My other Loves. Granted, they are all in 4 different cities. Thus, I miss one or more at any time. But missing all of them is very rare. Again, I don't miss America and all of her trappings, distractions, false gods, and materialism. But I do miss my people. It's that simple.

Expect losses, large and small, and your gains in life will be sweeter because YOUR gains can be others gains too, while you are still here.

Buen Camino.

Ultreia!

Long day with a few blessed oasis sightings…made it to Leon!

It's always strange to be the first pilgrim up and moving. Hosts here not up. Other late-arrival guests were not moving. I had a €10 bunk in a 4-bunk room all to myself. Window open. Cool and quiet past 11pm. Slept fairly well.

My alarm goes off at 6 everyday here. I get up about 6:30 or so and get out the door by 7. 7:15 today and the sunrise 🌅 and Galicia mountains glowing purple in the far distance was my morning highlight.

Not much to see from Religeos to Leon. Few places to eat and be refreshed. Pack your own snack and the first town I walked to surprised me with this very green peregrino park.

Beyond that, not a lot.

Until you reach Casablanca!!!

Delicious selection, cafe seating, and very clean bathrooms. Tortilla, croissant, and grande zumo de nanjara filled me with goodness.

Several new pilgrims to me passed my way and I was alone most of the day.

But a fellow was taking pilgrim pics for his "1,200 pilgrim" book to come. Search on Instagram.

He was a joy. Used a real camera and a Polaroid too! Funny.

Dragging a bit, I ran into this cutie and dropped €.50 for a tiny spot of limon Fanta.

Sweet moment. Then.

Sweating a lot and climbing a man made hill next. Blahhhhhhh.

Then, just a few km from Leon, I caught up with an older gal from Sweden and younger gal from Ireland. The Swede was more my speed. She has quite a story too. God's speed, Camino Swede! She rides to Santiago tomorrow. Gave me advice about my challenged left shin. Gracias.

Irish gal needed to see the pharmacia, so I offered my Buen Camino and found the yellow arrows again.

Winding my way by memory, I found our first Albergue on our last Camino. Host was nice, but explained the bank holiday this Tuesday that somehow fills up the city on Sunday. Could not even pull up my Marriott app to fix this. With no cell service nor free wifi available, it was up to me and Brierleys book to figure this out. I walked around a while, found completo signs on doors, briefly considered the Parador, then desired to leave town for a B&B I barely recall about a mile from the bridge leaving town.

But, Brierley strikes again.

Here I am. Next to a miniature Central Park with no crowds. Sweet Rhea serving me a starter cervesa and now my dinner with chilled vino tinto. Life just got a little better. When I saw the mix of older and younger couples staying here, I knew that this was my place. And it is. Picture staying the afternoon and evening in a cool corner of Brooklyn or like vs. Times Square.

So yummy.

4 hours to sunset and what shall I do as a well fed, still large for Spain, ready to stroll guy. I think I'm about to find out.

Beautiful still in Leon.

Then, I must find Jamon.

All delicious. Jamon, chorizo, queso and vino tinto too. Perfecto!

Buen Camino

There are no words….sans Perfecto!

I love Spain. That is fairly clear.

America is fine…but Spain.

Perfecto.

Quiet walk today. No open kitchen nor agua for 18km. I was fine.

Met María & Roland from Italy 🇮🇹 once again. One lovely couple. Getting their rental bikes ready to cross to Astorga.

May see them again. May not.

So quiet today….until….the return of Isaac from Wales. Hilarious 😂 with his Italian travel companion. 2 young blokes just trying to figure the Camino out as cheaply as possible. They argue in different languages like a freakish old married couple, with an occasional f bomb. Leon may just see another reunion of ours. Hope so.

Now, I sit here with my paella and I must dig in now.

Perfecto. Now Jamon croquettes. And small insalata. Limon vinaigrette???? Perfecto.

This place, Restaurante Gil, is THE place at 4 o'clock. Not much else to do and the shady weather is perfecto too.

I've never seen so many thirsty locals and limping peregrinos in one patio bar. Back to my Jamon.

I've also never heard "Americano" used so much around the patio and bar doorway. Who do you possibly think they are discussing? No problem. My flan is here.

This young lady at Gil is taking good care of this Americano. Gracias!

Ahhhhh. They play cards here. Now I get it. Stupido . Americano.

Three bars in this tiny town and they all have a really different vibe and feel. You'll figure it out.

Supermercado is about three phone booths in size, but has all I need. €1.95 bottles on vino tinto for dessert. Muchos gracias.

Nap time in one sleepy town.

Great sights today and a nice time in a tiny town before walking into Leon on a Sunday!

But first, my veg dinner at my veg Albergue. Kait, our youngest daughter should be so proud.

So, returned to my sweet little Albergue Ada to find the owner and his Familia having their lunch.

Very cool and sweet. They all gave me attention and I just pointed to their table and group and gently offered my patented "perfecto" and they all smiled.

Up for my siesta now. Be back later.

Whew! Excellent siesta!!!! 😍😍😍

Great walk today. Excellent Albergue find, thanks to Pedro (owner) and Grace (volunteer from Argentina). Both very sweet.

About time to eat again. Only me in my habaticion for 4 so far. €10 for my maybe privada bunk. Not bad.

7:30 approaches rapido! Delicious vegetarian meal 🥘 to come on another beautiful, sunny ☀️ Spain 🇪🇸 evening! ❤️

That is my back yard for tonight.

Tonight is slipping away fast. Huge insalata mixta with quinoa and a delicious Rioja …

and, now, this….

Veg & queso frittata creation with a flaky crust! Yum!

I'm stuffed and heading outside to hear a young Buddhist monk play his guitar and sing. Should be wonderful.

Goodnight from 🇪🇸, friends.

Cliche’ Alert: “The Camino provides”

….but, if you allow it, the cliche' becomes true.

After a very relaxing afternoon and restful night at La Morena, an oasis of its own, we hit the trail at 7am and sunrise for another day. Their last day on their Camino.

Another beautiful Camino morning for all who are up to enjoy it.

Our morning went on with searches for breakfast and allowed us fresh zumo de naranjara , as Brierley's book was no so bueno.

We finally found a crusty couple who opened up their bar fashionably late, seemed to be irritated by pilgrims, but actually had real food that was not commercially wrapped in plastic. More zumo and croissant pour moi. It was delicious and came with a healthy serving of disgust. Buen Camino.

Hours later, we made it through our walk, very personal conversations, and fine vistas to reach the ceremonial mid-point of the Camino. For Jen & Ron, it was time to stop, for now, stay the night in Sahugan, train back to Madrid, and fly home to Massachusetts.

I've never met a happy, American couple on the Camino like them. Americans are rare anyway. We are typically solo and have reasons to be here alone. Jen and Ron had been here before. Time only allowed them their St Jean to Sahagún Camino over two weeks, as they still have careers back home….and a sweet beagle and two grown kids too.

We hugged, exchanged phone numbers, and settled up the €3 each for beers and ample, free tapas that we inhaled quite nicely on Sahagún's Plaza Mayor. And off I went…

My Camino continues for a couple of more hours and I pass a young lady that seems to be grinding out each step and an Italian couple who is about done like me.

Another small village awaits to provide a nice bed and lots of delicious food and conversation over vino tinto . First, at check-in, the nice Italian couple walks in and kindly offers me Italian and Spanish lessons about requests for non-peregrino menu options….nice effort. Hot shower and clean clothes later, and I'm outside with all cafe tables occupied. Very nice German couple that I had exchanged pleasantries with over days had a seat at their table. I asked. They obliged with smiles. Lovely, lovely couple. After an hour or so, they had to go and meet a bike delivery van to help speed up their Camino to fit their German life back home. Peddling to Astorga tomorrow. Not moments after they left, a young girl leaves her table and her parents as well. I recognize them from the last few towns too and ask to join them. Another sweet couple from France and their 3 teenage kids, with two other families, totaling 14 on their walking Camino. Lots of stories there. We talked about family, politics, and other cultural things until their sleeping kids arose and joined us for tapas and cola drinks.

A young man sitting beside alone finally chimed in when I was inspired to whip out my jaunty, Cockney accent to make a point "there guvnah!" He is a philosophy graduate from London, who's father is Indian and mother is Nordic. Handsome chap with a wealth of conversation. Thus, he must join me for dinner.

He reminded me of that fellow in "Lion" and the "Marigold" hotel movies. Young, smart, global, and fairly seasoned for a man of 25.

We both shunned the peregrino menu and ordered the grilled steak and chips (double insalata for me, no chips). Delicious slab of beef was devoured by each of us. €9 each with a shared bottle of vino tinto. Like our long, very personal conversation, that meal was a joy and nourishing beyond food.

We settled up at the bar, since no one auto-presents the check here…take your time in Espana….and we said our good nights.

That was one remarkable, global day that will never be repeated. I love that.

Most of us shall meet again. No doubt.

Buen Camino.

Great exhausting, peaceful, and a restful day!

Quite the 46,000+ steps over 32km today, my first day back walking, according to my wrist gadget. The first 21km felt like nothing big. Minor twinges in knees and hip. No big deal.

But. I had really fueled up…here…

Quite the delicious starter at the AC Burgos…had my fill…right before a band of American senior citizens had their way with the buffet. It was overwhelming. It was cruel. It was Shock-and-Awe…and that was just the hotel staff. I expected it, once I saw and heard the first of them loudly complain about something I've already forgotten . I just sat back and pretended to be the 6'3" , 265lb wall flower that I am….until….Friar Tuck, younger and with his full head of hair, wished me "Buen Camino" and then he had to explain that to the group. That was my cue to leave.

The sun was rising and I found myself at this place of The Way movie…

Lots of flats to come. The Meseta.

Some call boring. Some avoid.

I call it a breadbasket. I would not avoid its beauty and purpose. Sunflowers and hay feed us one way or another.

Breezed into Hornillas so easily.

Too, too easily.

Grabbed Jamon, chorizo, sin pan, grande cervesa, agua, and switched out for fresh socks/Keens and I want to go past Hornillas (pardon, spelling from memory).

10km to Hontanas should be fine.

It was as long a 10k as I remember from my last Camino. Feet were fine until the last 2km. Same for my attitude.

FYI. Cursing, even to oneself, is probably some kinda sin. Granted, I do tend to sin a bit.

All was fine until those last 2km that I could have saved if I wasn't a brief idiot. I believed my guidebook over the arrows. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It was as long a last few kilometers and then, after this pilgrim's walk there she was. Very welcomed, indeed.

Agua was my highest priority. My fount of hydration was right there next to Mother Mary. Perfecto.

Descending into town, I stopped, looked it over, and quickly booked my habiticion privada at Juan de Vepes. She sits at the highest point in town, with a nice green space, and views of their sweet church and surrounding countryside.

(photo above taken right before bedtime)

As I type, the Mass bells ring sending the birds of its belfry flying. Now. They fly back. It's a bird version of happy hour on that bell tower.

My room is perfecto, if my needed hot shower and two hour nap were any indication. I feel like a new man.

Woke up refreshed. Dressed for dinner here at Juan's and went for,
of all things, a walk around town.

From my Albergue to the municipal pool at the west end, more interesting characters. Very few gringos and I do love it.

Walked back and I'm settled here for the night. Pilgrim dinner at 7, of course. Limited to 12, and I will be delighted to join the communal dinner. Paella is on the menu. Just for 12, it should be perfecto. We shall see.

My love wants to chat now via FaceTime on her lunch hour. Ciao for now.

Great chat over some time. All is good back home.

Peregrino dinner at 7 sharp.

Perfecto.


Chunks of pollo love sprang from this deliciousness.

Beautiful perigrino dinner sprang from my fellow solo, albeit French, dinner companion and three pairs of Germans, Italians, and Russians, respectively from front to left around. Teenage Russian boy served his mom with gusto. Loved that. Italian ladies kept to themselves. But I gave them the handshake of love and let them go to safer feelings. The German gals (pictured above) could understand some English as a team effort. It was a sweet effort. They were cool. Even sharing my brilliant, youngest daughter story. Danke, new German friends. If not for them, it was just me and Frenchy chatting between helpings of a huge insalata and wonderful paella.

More to come here. Time to go and wifi here is blaaaaahhhhh.

Ciao for now!

Burgos, Spain…today!

That's how I'm ending my long travel day and 10kms walking all around Burgos. Simple dining alfresco from my hotel room now…

Buen Camino and goodnight!

Getting to ONE’s next Camino…

1 day away…then here!

Love those relaxing Saturday mornings at home.

This Saturday was special.

Coffee. Cool weather. Cereal. No humidity. Yogurt with honey, blueberries, strawberries, and granola. More coffee. No TV. Chocolate chip pancakes. NYTimes. A sweet morning for 4, 2 boys and 2 parents. Mom goes for a run. Dad goes to Kinko's too anally retentively copy his passport, credit cards, and other id documents.

Sweet last hour of lunch on our patio and customizing messages on stones.

Prayers too. Then, we load up for the airport.

We are there 2 hours before my fight. One hour less than recommended. It was fine.

Hugs. Kisses. Love you's. Texts of well wishes and Love. All good. Really. Great.

Breeze through security and I'm roaming around my gate and concourse.

Then, my Camino officially began. Tap. Tap. And, two nice gents, long-time pals, just stopped me in international concourse to ask about my Camino out of the blue. They noticed my backpack shell. It begins here, it seems. Unbridled friendliness, curiosity, and quick fellowship, before we all 3 take on our Camino's (theirs from St. Jean in France). That wonderful tap on my shoulder ended with handshakes and, of course, "Buen Camino!"

I can almost taste Spain after that.

Suffice it to say, this flight is not Air France. Delta is fine. Just enough. Adequate. Our last trip to Spain went through Paris and it showed. This one went through Atlanta and it shows. Even sleeping on this flight lacks in potential for recharge, relative to the French. C'est la vie.

On our plane, a lovely college girl named Jessica plops down beside me. She's heading to Madrid to intern with disabled kids. Good for her. Plans to graduate on a six year plan after changing majors. She's young. Plenty of time to figure that out. She reminds me of our
girls, especially when she curls up on the two seats reserved for both of us , as I gave up mine to cross the aisle for more room for both of us. Much to the displeasure of a young man who thought that he could make a sofa out of three mid-plane seats. Sorry, Charlie. You might just have to sleep upright or leaning into the middle seat like a grown-up flying to Spain. FYI. It's not even 6pm, my friend.

Even after cocktails, I'm jazzed, finished a Doc about stand-up comedians, and I'm blogging. And dinner is on it's way. Smells good, but we shall see.

Before and after the big reveal….

Okay. Delta veg lasagna tastes good. The rest. Ick. Cheesy lasagna is just fine.

Back to #MyComfyCamino …it's here. Nighttime over the Atlantic. Delta folks just killed the cabin lights. I guess mom said that we are all supposed to sleep now. Hmmmmm… nope. Not me. Watching or listening to another stand-up comedian and I'm fine. Just sayin'. Okay. Okay. Mom, I'm just blogging again!!!! And falling asleep. Never was good at all-nighters.

Made it to Burgos…next post will just let my pictures and videos do the talking, from walking into Burgos from the nearby bus station to my AC Hotel by Marriott, to my walking tour and 3 tapas & wine stops for under €15 combined. Pulpo (€3), seafood combo (€2), and 3-course (€7)…all three with vino tinto.

Can't you just taste Spain????

Ultreia!!

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