Vilarelho

I woke up to an overcast day. Part of it was the weather. It was the first day with clouds since I arrived. The other half was knowing it was my last day in Portugal. I've grown to love this country and I'm sad to be leaving so soon.

Today was a late start because of the breakfast at the Chocolate Factory Hotel. The earliest they would serve me was 7:30. I'd normally be an hour down the road and 4-5 K's into the journey.

I sat down at a table set for one and the waiter brought a tray that could easily have been for three. There was a basket of pastries, three mini pancakes, a bowl of fruit with chocolate sauce, brownies and cake squares, a pot of coffee and a pitcher of steamed milk, a glass of fresh OJ and a plate of sliced ham and cheeses.

A few minutes later the waiter came back and handed me a laminated card.

"What is this?"

"The Menu."

"The menu?"

"Yes, The Menu. That is in case you want eggs, omelet, bacon, oatmeal or baked beans."

"You are kidding me, right?"

"No sir. Would you like anything off The Menu?"

I ate less than half of what was on the tray...

All I could do was laugh, thinking that Renton and Alex would have loved this place, and Alex would have definitely ordered off The Menu.

***

It took about 40 minutes to walk out of town and hit the ocean. I was in for at least seven hours of walking and I was grateful that my foot wasn't injured any more than just being a little tender from yesterday's fall.
I wondered how many pilgrims would be deviating off of the normal route to walk along the ocean. There were about three couples that I kept leapfrogging. The rest had either taken the upper root or had started earlier.

It was good that I had filled up my water bladder with two liters this morning as I didn't find an open cafe for three hours. Even though it was cooler today I was finding it hard to stay hydrated.

I loved the seascape, the rocks, the forts, and the vegetation. The path weaved in and out of these elements while itself shifting between boardwalks, pavement, dirt and cobblestones. A few times the sidewalk came to an end.

The first time I stopped to try and figure out which way to go. A Portuguese man was sitting on a bench watching the waves. I greeted him, “Bom dia!” but something in the way I said it gave away that I'm a foreigner .

In perfect English he asked me where I was from.

"The United States. And you?"

"I am from here. I worked in Lisbon for 30 years, but now I am back home where I was born."

"How nice. It is lovely here."

"Yes, thank you. It is.” He nods towards my backpack with the Camino shell, “Is today your last day in Portugal?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I have fallen in love with your country."

"Have you been here before?"

"Yes, my wife and daughters and I walked the Portuguese Central Camino from Lisbon."

"Ah! from Lisbon! Well done! And now you are back?"

"Yes, I wanted to walk beside the ocean."
We both stop to admire the view in front of us.

"Will you ever come back?"

"Yes! I'd like to walk the Fisherman's trail from Faro to Lisbon and then continue to Fatima before walking the Portuguese Interior Camino. I'd be walking from the southern border to the northern one."

"I like that you will take a pilgrimage to Fatima. You know most of us Portuguese walk there instead of Santiago."

"Yes, we learned that on our last trip."

"You will feel the emotion and the Spirit when you go there."

"I would like that very much."

And then he guided me to where the path was. I wouldn't have found it otherwise. It led me to an obelisk that had a door to Narnia. I knew it wasn't my time to go through that door so I didn't try to open it.

I don't know what year I'll be back in Portugal, but September 2028 is penciled in. I might have already figured out how many stages it would take (41) and where I would like to stay.

***

Walking alone for hours allows you the time to have conversations with others that you've been meaning to have, even though they aren't with you in person. Perhaps you haven't had that conversation because of fear or some other emotion. Maybe it is because that person is dead. Or possibly both of you are still breathing but are dead to each other. Regardless, your brokenness together means their presence is always in your Shadow.

I had a couple of those conversations today. They weren't easy to have, but it hasn't been easy holding on to that pain either. So I laid it out there and then let it go. It was like a practice that my therapist would have led me in, but instead of picturing walking along the beach while bearing my soul, I really was.

***

Tomorrow I'll take a boat across the border into Spain, and then I will walk forward and upward again.

Ultreia et Suseia!Les mer