Epilogue - Camino de Santiago (May 11 to June 12, 2018)

Like Bugs Bunny used to say, "bidah, bidah, that's all folks" ....

except for tieing up some loose ends and the Grand Finale!

It has been requested that I retell the story of the rosaries, which have played prominently in my experience on the Camino.

Last night I stayed in a wonderful hotel (thank you Alicia) with lousy Wifi, so that I could rest and reflect. One of the items on my reflection list is the bag of rosaries I carried over 485 miles. Rosaries are Catholic prayer beads, used to pray to Mother Mary. They are made up primarily of groups of ten beads (a decade) with a single large bead separating each decade. There are other beads thrown in also but, basically, it's a counting device.

My late wife, Betty, was a very kind and giving soul. She was a life long volunteer in numerous charitable groups and non-profits. She also worked with several different groups at our church. One of those groups was the Rosary Makers of Holy Apostles Catholic Church in Meridian, Idaho.

When Betty passed away in 2014 I found she had amassed a number of rosaries. I had hoped to someday walk the Camino and this seemed like an opportunity for me to allow Betty's work, and therefore her spirit, to spread around the world. I gathered about a dozen rosaries in a plastic bag and headed to Spain, knowing only that the opportunity to pass out these prayer beads would, somehow, somewhere, present itself.

They say that every pilgrim has a story. I found any number of compelling stories along The Way, and in turn was open to strangers about this very private part of my story. It seemed to resonate with people, occasionally moving people to tears, or hugs, or both.

I do not know where all of the rosaries will end up, perhaps that's the way it should be. Shouldn't, after all, kindness and love be boundless?

One of the rosaries was placed on the statue of the Madonna and child, high in the Pyrenees.

Four of them were left at the Monastery in Roncevalles where a volunteer suggested they go on a table where items could be left or taken, based on need.

One was given to Marie from Australia, a now unemployed teacher who taught Religious Education until she decided to travel the world before settling anywhere.

A mother from Ireland, traveling with her post-teenage daughter and a niece, said they had been hiking the Camino for ten years, during which time they had stopped going to church but still prayed the rosary each day. Before I even unpacked the beads, the daughter had convinced her mother that she should have it so she could pray each morning.

One went to Graham, a college student from South Dakota, who liked to pray the rosary but had not brought one with him.

One went to a couple from New York City who were taking it to friends living in Beirut, Lebanon.

More recently one was given to Father Stephan from Frankfurt, Germany, who walked the Camino barefoot so he could feel the earth. He was praying on it that same day and had a parishioner who could use it.

One went to Alfred, who lived near Hamburg, Germany but was to give it as a gift from the Camino to a friend who was entering the convent to become a nun.

And there was one special rosary that was left, with a note and 18 cents, atop Cruz de Ferro, as a gift from Alicia and I.

That leaves me with one special rosary, and I believe I know the perfect place for it.

Doing this blog has been an amazing experience in and of itself. Like family, some times it's a source of great joy, at other times it's like your kid got caught shoplifting. But it's always been intended with love, to share, to explore thoughts, to entertain. I took a sneak peak the other night at my "statistics", courtesy of Google (and maybe the NSA?). I've had over 4500 page views, one in eight from outside the U.S! That's insane!

Then, to put the finishing touch on the whole experience, I went to the noon mass at the Cathedral and, at the end, they "flew" the Botafumeiro! It's a giant incense burner said to have originally been used to fumagate the medieval Perigrinos after months without a bath. Nowadays it soars over the heads of the amazed masses when someone donates enough money to pay the eight man staff who, like skilled puppeteers, add just the right touch to the harness. It is used to keep out the Galician jumping slugs.

I have video, but will have to post it separately as I can only add stills from a mobile device.

Thank you for your comments, they have encouraged and inspired me each day.

Buen Camino!

Bonus materials:

Alicia thought I was kidding when I told her there was a KFC right around the corner, not only serving Pepsi, but, unheard of in Spain, free refills!

How's this for a coffee pot!

Yes, that was a bag pipe you heard as I entered the plaza yesterday!

This guy floated on air, making many ignore him as a statue, until he suddenly turned and said, "Buen Camino"!

Unfortunately, I don't read Spanish, so I didn't know I went "in" the exit, thereby not seeing the sign that said "NO PHOTO". This is looking from behind St. James on the main alter, looking at the Botafumeiro.

The Botafumeiro "flies"!

O Pedrouso to Santiago de Compostela. Distance 20.1 km (12.5 mi /13.5 ) to go NOTHING !!!!!!!!!

How many times has this happened to you? You go out and hike 485 miles, lay down to take a nap, and a doctor's office calls, waking you up, to talk about a bill?

So today was the big finale! I got an early start (earlier than the sun!)

This proved to be problematic however as once I hit the suburbs I had difficulty finding the trail markings (difficulto un pocito). It turned out that wasn't the only difficulty I experienced however. I had another one of those menu mishaps for breakfast.

I walked for about an hour, then when I was ready for a break, I stopped at a small restaurante. The waitress, when asked if she habla'd Ingles, said "un pocito" which is Spanish for I have no idea what we will be discussing. I started out asking for an omelette. A puzzled look on her face told me more information was needed. (This surprised me as I believe omelettes have been listed as such on several menus). I supplemented my request saying "egg". She seemed to understand now.

She asked if I wanted bacon (which, if you accent the second syllable, becomes Spanish), to which I replied, "no, just cheese". Again with the puzzled look on her face, she shrugged (which in Spanish means, "silly gringo"), yelled to the kitchen and began making my coffee Americano, muy grande, which in Spanish comes in a very small cup. So here's what I had for breakfast:

I walked with a gentleman this morning from Spain (around Madrid). I don't recall his name but I do recall his story as it is one similar to what many of us have experienced. As a teen in high school he promised himself he would walk the Camino. When he graduated he quickly found employment and, as they say, life happened. Now, twenty years later, he walks very slowly, with a pronounced limp due to a bad knee, because he now has a one year old son who someday will ask him if he ever walked the Camino.

I expected to walk for about 4 1/2 hours today, a distance of just over 11 miles. It's funny how after the first 450 miles, every extra mile seems bigger. Eventually, after walking an ancient path through some neighborhoods with Cable TV satellite dishes on their roofs, we came to a beautiful park, Capillade San Marcos, where there is a monument to the visit of Juan Pablo II. No, not the Indianapolis 500 champion, but Pope John Paul II. The high ground used to be the first glimpse of Santiago de Compostela. According to my book, the first medieval pilgrim to spot the towers of the Cathedral was crowned King for the Day. They gave a cry of Monte do Gozo (Mount of Joy).

Anyway, this is where we find a large monument erected to commemorate the Popes visit in 1989 for World Youth Day (an event that two of our kids attended just about three years later).

It was also here that three Korean women that I had passed and repassed several times over the previous weeks, saw me and had to have a picture taken with me. I don't know if they thought I was Dumbledorf, or the original pilgrim model or what, but it was funny to be recognized. Two of them grabbed me, one on each arm, while the third tried repeatedly to take a picture

I say funny because, when I got my phone back and looked at the pictures I had one of the ground, one of the lady who took the picture, and one where you could only see the tops of everyone's head as we huddled around the phone to look at how a picture was to be taken.

This was also the last place I saw Alfred from two nights previous, still thanking me for the rosary with a quick hug, while he stayed to meet up with a group of Camino friends to walk the final 5 km together.

Once we entered the city time sped up while coming to a crawl. Things were moving around us everywhere; people, cars, trucks, lights flashing, horns honking, yet it seemed to take forever to move forward. Each hill seemed to promise a glimpse of the Cathedral, yet time and time again, delivered only disappointment.

However, of course, the Cathedral did come into view. I was not ready somehow for the fact that we approached the Cathedral from behind. 

I expected the Camino to dump us, Hollywood-style, into a large plaza with a quick and easy establishing shot, setting the location while exposing the grandeur. This unsettled me even more as I had promised to try to "stream" the grand entry on FaceBook, and I could not tell when it was to come into frame!

The front of the Basilica at Santiago, viewed from Praza de Obrioro

A narrow walkway alongside the church led me, by ear, to a bagpipe player, standing in a short tunnel, as if the Pied Piper himself was beckoning us to the front of the Cathedral; to the Praza Obradoiro, the large plaza in front of the Cathedral.

Again, the distraction of trying to figure out how to stream FB played into my reaction. I was not overly emotional; it nearly seemed anti-climactic. I had walked 485 miles (officially 799 kilometers), reached the end, now needed to collect the prize and sit down for a couple days. 

They told me my Compostela (certificate) could be had at the Peregrino Office. "Just go down this street to the white building."

It was very similar to my High School graduation. I did the studying, I got the grades, when I walked across the stage in the BMHS gym to get my diploma, I expected somehow that life had turned a page. Yet the next morning, I woke up and went to work at my Dad's gas station and absolutely nothing had changed.

Similarly, the changes had already occurred. I was now allowed to choose my life's path. What would I do? Would it be the same for the rest of my life, or would I plot the uncommon course, explore, enjoy, look through fresh eyes at each opportunity?

This really is the question that drives me, always has and, hopefully, always will. Do I do the easy things to get by, or do I choose to explore the unusual, or explore the normal in unnormal ways?

When I turned 21 I made up a program to enliven my life. I called it LIVE - Life Is Very Exciting. It was a bucket list for someone who had just begun to plot his course in life. I made a list of things I wanted to do during my life. Many items were added to the list over the years, and many have been checked off. I have only one thing left on that list (not to say that many more can't be added). Ironically, it is the one thing that Betty did as well as anyone, and Alicia shares this enduring trait.

I want to bring one more smile to one more face for one more day. 

I have shared Betty with the world now, as best I could. I think she'd be pleased. Next on the list is Alicia, with her left elbow bent, hand on her chest, holding me tight to her heart in every way. The adventure begins soon my dear, and it will be life changing. I'm coming home.

Castaneda to O Pedrouzo. Distance 26.8 km ( 16.6 mi / 16.4) to go 19.6km

The 19.6km to go is based on calculations. The book shows 20.1 to the Cathedral and the stone way points show about 18 km to the city edge. Now that we've got that straight...

Today's story really started last night with something that touched me deeply. 

After "publishing" my blog entry I went to a dining area to wait for dinner time. I was joined there by Alfred H., from near Hamburg Germany. A retired design engineer for Siemens, he has been traveling the Camino for about 5 weeks now, walking a more southern route that was now united with the Camino I am walking, so he too is expecting to be in Santiago on Tuesday. Just prior to his departure, he had been to the Berlin area for the wedding of his son.

We talked at length about some of the people we had met and stories we had heard. That was when he asked if I had seen the man who walked the Camino barefoot. He said he had looked inside a little church along the route today and saw him praying.

I explained that Fr. Stephan was a German priest and that I had given him a rosary. I then went back and told him the story of why I was passing out rosaries on the Camino.

He was moved and asked if he could buy one. I told him no, but I would love to give him one if he knew someone that could use it. That was when he shared this with me:

The day after his son's wedding they had stayed at his daughter-in-law's parents house. He had gone for a walk and was joined by his son's new mother-in-law. They had a very nice long talk, and during this walk she confided in him that, if I understand correctly, she is a very religious person. Now that her daughter is married and will not be around, she has decided that, come this fall, she is going into a convent to become a nun. He would like to give her a rosary as a gift from the Camino and was excited to have not only one of Betty's rosaries but carry the story with it. He then found someone to take a picture so he could show this lady who gifted it, and he could remember the moment.

Today was almost like survival mode, but without the immunity idol!

It started out just fine, with a large cup for coffee and an entire pot placed on the table!

Can you say, "coffee Americana Grande"!

When we exited the Camino yesterday, we (Alfred and I) had to walk a fair distance to find our Pension. (That's a Spanish "n", making the word mean something similar to a B&B, not a retirement check).

We were not particularly excited about back tracking so we followed a map on his phone that showed the Camino intersecting the road up ahead.

We took off late (7:45), headed west, thinking we were pretty smart. But then we saw this:

The Camino DID cross our road, but we would have needed to scale a stone embankment! Another "shortcut" was found, but it required we go "boondocking", off road, to pick up the other trail. Alfred was willing to do this. Apparently he had not heard of the Galician Jumping Slugs!

I walked only a short distance before coming to Arzua, a good sized town.

Within one block I saw the following:

Two trucks of bicycles unloading for a tour

An entire bus load of youthful trekkers, numbering over 40!

They were all male so it was probably a boys school or a Scouting type organization. They were heading toward merging onto MY Camino!

I've heard that hiking the final 100 km of the Camino is common among Spain's middle school population (and I heard that Korea encourages this too)! I picked up the pace, thinking I could stay ahead of them but it didn't take long for their youth and fresh legs to overtake me. Walking became like hanging around a bee hive. You could hear the swarm coming, then it engulfed you, taking over the trail, the "bars", all the seats and tables at restaurants. It was not fun. With, in most cases, an interest level that was nearly non-existent, the youngsters lent nothing to the ambiance of the Camino, so I shifted my focus today to "decompression" mode. 

Similar to deep sea divers who spend time in a chamber before resurfacing to avoid the bends, this was my preparation for returning to reality.

I did, on several occasions, have people give me a shoutout as I passed a restaurant or bar. "Frog, how's it going"? One young lady, as she breezed by me, asked how my blog was going; if I'd been able to keep up with it.

There is now a familiarity of faces that repeats daily. Most of the people from the first couple of weeks have passed me by, but these folks figure to finish with me tomorrow. With about 4 to 5 hours walking left, we can be sure there will be familiar faces in the Praza de Obradoiro tomorrow. I admitted to Alicia that it would be pretty cool to have at least one person call my name in recognition, as I enter the "Golden Square".

Keep your left elbow bent my dear, I should be home before the weekend!

Bonus material:

Here's yet another bathroom fixture you don't see every day:

I elected not to have lunch there...

I had something get lost in translation today when ordering lunch. They had hamburgers on the menu at this particular restaurant, but listed them as "Completo", or something similar, indicating to me that the whole garden was included. I tried to indicate to the young lady that I wanted "no completo", no mas. She countered with an indication from the menu that "cheese" was still possible. Somewhere in the conversation my order was modified as never before - I ended up with a hamburger in a bun, and on each side of the hamburger patty was a slice of processed ham!

The fries were good, but they were French!

Palas de REI to Castaneda. Distance 23.2 km (14.4 mi. / 15.9). to go46.4 km

Despite an ever increasing number of peregrinos on the Camino, today was rather quiet, as far as activity goes.

First, I must correct myself. I am terrible with names and I am not a Harry Potter fan, so I erroneously stated that a group of peregrinos had nick named me Gonandorf, when it should have been Dumbledore:

I found that Richard Harris ( A Man Called Horse) played the part in "the first two movies", but an actor named Michael Gambon played the part in whatever other movies have been made. Ironically, I talked to a "Michael" yesterday and had Gambon for lunch!

The heavy traffic has its drawbacks. The bars are very crowded and it is easy to end up with a gaggle of millennials behind you that prefer to praddle on and on instead of listening to their soul, or nature. The newer pilgrims are, it seems almost entirely, younger people who walk the Camino in loud groups with cell phone in hand, not mindful of blocking The Way for others.

The advantage to gathering mobs of hormone infested youth is that there are spaces between them where it is possible to walk for an hour and hear the rustle of the wind in the trees, and a chorus of frogs in a bog alongside an ancient bridge. Bliss.

There really was, in my view, only one story today. I had blogged yesterday about a Spaniard who walked the Camino bare foot, and pined for his story. I saw him again today, and this time I was able to catch up with him.

It turns out that he is not a Spaniard at all. His name is Father Stephan and he is a Catholic priest. He walked the entire Camino in 2012, and again last year. This year he walks barefoot from Sarria to Santiago to ask blessings for his small congregation from near Frankfurt, Germany. He graciously accepted one of Betty's rosaries and will give it to just the right person in his church back in Germany. He said he would say a rosary today for Betty and pass the story along with the rosary. 

I saw him later this morning in a Melide, rosary still in hand. He asked again if I was sure I wanted to give it to him and I nodded in the affirmative. By the way, he said he walks bare foot so he can "feel the earth"!

And I complained about my sore feet...

I managed to eventually find the hostel today, about 2 km beyond the town it was listed in. Spain has virtually no street signs, so addresses are virtually useless outside the cities. They likewise have an apparent disdain for signs on their buildings. In this case, it is basically a house with a sign on the fence out front that has raised letters but no contrasting colors to make them visible. The sign on the Camino served only to detour me down a side street which ended in a quarter mile or so at a Provincial Highway. No further sign was seen to indicate where the business was located; up the hill, back toward town, in one of the houses along the side road. I tried calling but there was no answer. GPS could not locate it.

I decided to walk up the hill to the next house, which appeared large enough to house several people. There was no sign  to be seen anywhere, but there was a car, parked in front of the next house, so I walked another 20 yards where I spotted the sign.

The place was only slightly easier to find than if we had not discovered last night that Alicia had erroneously booked a hotel in a city 200 miles away! No sign would have helped me then!

So I am in another pretty little room with a nice view

This one comes complete with a dog (I wonder if Alicia knew that?)

I am at mile post, er, kilometer post 44, which means I am about 27 miles from my destination. I am two days away and anxious to see the journey's end. Keep your left elbow bent my dear, we can almost taste Santiago from here!

Bonus materials:

I love the old bridges!

I thought this looked nice

I'm still not real keen on Spanish food!

Portomarin to Palas de REI. Distance 24.6 km (15.3 mi / 16.2) to go69.6 km

Again I need to apologize for my blog yesterday. I had spent considerable time typing, assembling pictures and assembling thoughts to go into it. Then, in the push of a button, it was gone!

I, of course, was upset, disappointed that my efforts had been for naught. So I did a quick blog, ranting about how Google had lost my blog, oh whoa is me! This is so bad, etc., etc, etc.

I had to muster some artificial anger too, to add to the humorous affect I was trying to create.

After this unfortunate event I was browsing FB and came upon a video that had been apparently streamed live at one point. In the video, some guy went on and on about an RV that he had rented that, when he was caught on day 24 of his 30 day vacation in a rainstorm, the windshield leaked, the wipers were not working, pieces were falling inside the unit and hitting him on the head, and so forth.

I was really put off by his attitude. It was most unfortunate, but why was he teaching his kids (who traveled with him) to concentrate on all the negative instead of taking stock of all the blessings he had. How many can afford time with their family in excess of 4 weeks? How many people on motorcycles sat outside in this pouring rain, would have loved to put up with a leaky window? He was doing exactly as I try NOT to do, concentrating on what he didn't have instead of teaching his children to recognize their blessings.

It wasn't until this morning, while I walked the Camino, with the "days to Santiago" count down to less than five, that I was finally enlightened! My work had not been mysteriously lost; I had been given a thump on the forehead!

I was so upset that my blog had disappeared in front of my eyes, that I could not see the message that HAD been delivered! I am so blessed in so many ways and yet, like the man in the RV, I was stuck on what wasn't.

People have been reading, commenting, following my blog for almost a month and I could not see how lucky I was! Lucky to be pursuing an amazing adventure that anyone would even WANT to read about.

How many people would love to have the free time to pursue a challenge of these proportions? How many sat in a doctor's office, wishing their health would allow them a chance to walk into the plaza in Santiago, instead of having to undergo chemotherapy? 

I complain of my aching toes and feet, victims of my voluntary torture, instead of appreciating the pain my Aunt is experiencing while recovering from knee surgery. How many are choosing between a single or double mastectomy when they would love to be in a state of health that would allow them to bask in the sun of the Spanish countryside instead?

It is, in many ways, like grieving the loss of a loved one. The initial shock, regardless of how quickly or slowly the death occurred, is concentrated in "what we've lost". With time, most people will graduate to an appreciation of "what we had"!

The life, so fragile, is remembered for what we did, hopefully not for what we did not. This venture too, needs to be appreciated by me, if not by readers, for what has taken place, not for what has NOT taken place. 

Rejoice in the rain, those who come this way in the heat of July and August would have gladly traded.
Rejoice in the mud! Those who choke on the dust of late summer should have it so good.

Enjoy the cool temperatures, better than the insufferable heat that you were trying to avoid.

I walked the last three days with myself for company. After Karma kicked me back to reality I walked today with a renewed interest in others.

I was waved at enthusiastically by an older gentleman today who was waiting alongside the trail for his daughter. His name was Michael, pronounced to rhyme with his daughter's name, Danielle. She joined us about the time we introduced ourselves, so we walked.

He is from Lebanon originally, but migrated to Clearwater, Florida with his family and loves his adopted homeland. They are, in effect, orthodox Catholics, members of a long ago alienated group that separated from the Catholic Church for political reasons, but have no theological differences and "follow the pope". Danielle had read a book by a Brazilian author about hiking the Camino, thought it sounded challenging enough that she wanted to see if she could do it and convinced papa to accompany her. This was their second day out, and they agreed it was going much better than the first, having started in Sarria. We talked for awhile about Idaho, Lebanon and living in Florida. Eventually he said to Danielle, "It is okay if we rest. He is a mountain man and we don't want to hold him up." He did however continue for a bit until Danielle insisted he stop to rest.

I saw a Spaniard today walking barefoot. I followed him for quite a distance, unable to catch up with him. We eventually stopped at an amazing "bar" that had the whole food service thing figured out. The Spaniard joined a group of amigos at a table so I was never able to talk to him.

In the time it took to eat "breakfast" this bar served at least 50 people. Traffic has increased exponentially since Sarria. There was more people at this bar than you would see in an entire day three weeks ago.

Rush hour on the Camino. People were bunched up until we reached the first hill, many were never seen again

I came upon a woman who was struggling up a long hill. She was walking very, very slowly, struggling with each step. I stopped to ask if she was okay. She explained that she simply walked very slowly. I walked with her for awhile and found out she had family in Southern California, but was currently living in Arizona. She had a stroke a couple of years ago and decided to hike the Camino as therapy, from Sarria to Santiago. Her husband would rather be boating (which was fine with her), so while he was vacationing in Canada with the boat, she was struggling up a hill in Spain with a friend of forty years and her granddaughter, both of whom were just ahead, stopping periodically to check her progress. Eventually I resumed my pace and caught up with them. 

I told the granddaughter how inspiring her Grandma was and she agreed. She loved being able to walk with her and was inspired by the effort she put forth. She was glad they were able to make the trip together.

I walked with Sarehi (I am sorry I have spelled this incorrectly). She was from the northeastern part of Spain but works in the southeast as a psychologist. (I've met a lot of psychologists on this trek. It seems to be a good pressure relief. I wonder if Sally and Bill will be over here next?)

I would guess she is in her late twenties, maybe early thirties and she said she walks to see if she can do it alone. She wants to be completely dependent on herself, with no safety net. She had "holidays" enough to walk from Sarria to Santiago. I asked if she was allowing anyone to "follow" her, through e-mail or social media and she said no. She said people know she is okay, but no one knows where she is!

Then there was Hans (and company) from Australia. We walked together for perhaps an hour or more, his two compadres right behind us, carrying on their own conversation. He is a semi-retired high school teacher who substitute-teaches 2-3 days a week when needed. When I told him my trail name was Frog he said that I have had a different name for the last three weeks or so.
To explain:

As they walk a group of people have assembled via text to keep track of everyone's progress. They first noticed me when we stayed in the same hotel back in Burgos. Someone nick-named me Ganondorf, after the Harry Potter character from the movies. Since then there have been Ganondorf sightings with group members letting others know where I've been seen. No one had seen me for several days running now, so Hans was glad to know I was okay and still walking! No word of where Voltimore might lurk.

So, because of my blog evaporating, not inspite of it, I had a very nice trek across western Spain. The KM markings have dipped below "70", meaning I have about 42 miles to go. With hotel reservations being made in advance, my "schedule" has me walking into Santiago on Tuesday around 1 p.m.

I'd also like to thank Kris for reminding me that this is not a race. Although I had been reminded of that by the events above, it never hurts to be refocused on the purpose and meaning. Thank you Kris, and I assure you that my haste is fueled not by a calendar, but by my heart. This trip has been amazing and reminded me (not that I needed a reminder) of a love that is renewed every morning, by the rising sun. Much of my focus has been on a proper "send off" for Betty, but it has always been mindful of how that love, that life, that being has made me the person that yearns to bring all good things, at long last, to my dearest Alicia.

Speaking of whom - keep your left elbow bent and we shall soon be together again. Thank you for all you do!

Bonus materials:

A snail committing suicide by jumping off a phone wire

More failed technology, note the broken wheel

You think you have an ant problem?

I've seen a lot of churches surrounded by large crypts, many containing entire families.

I can not figure out what this is. There was an entire line of them spaced out along a road leading into a park/sports complex. It appears to be a solid metal frame with a mirror slanting from top to bottom. Each one appeared to have a metal cover adjacent to it, both sitting atop a cement pad. Ideas?

View from my room tonight. It's raining yet again, but I suspect it will dry out by morning

Another design engineer who should be shot! The glass door swings into the tub. It is in the fully open position. There is no way to step into the tub other than around the end, which requires either stepping on the steeply slanted and therefore slippery end of the tub or using your best American Ninja Warrior moves.

Going green!

I know I ranted previously about the tendency I've noticed toward lights being turned off by sensors. It is not only an inconvenience, but it is not safe.

I just walked out of my room to go to the elevator, at the opposite end of the hallway. Once the door to my room was closed there was zero light in the hallway. 

Actual picture taken just now!

I could not see to put the key in my door to lock it. Braille finally prevailed and I successfully made tumblers fall in the darkness. But when I turned to walk down the hall there was absolutely nothing leading the way. Had a maid left a vacuum sitting there, or if a wino was passed out, I would have tripped. Nothing to help until, when at last I had felt my way to the other end, the small cubby on the right where the "lift" was located had a call button with an illuminated ring around it. .000000001 candle power! And when I pushed the button, the light went out!

Ok, so this is all part of some Master Plan to save the earth from the global warming that has kept the daily high temperature below 13 degrees every day, going into June!

Europe is pushing the concept of a 90 second shower. We used to call it a Navy shower, but that's so old school no millennial will listen, because they are convinced that, if it ain't their idea, it ain't gonna work. The idea is that you step into the shower and turn the water on, quickly getting your body wet, then turn the water off. You then lather up, rub down and whatever else you do in the shower. To finish, you turn the water back on, quickly rinse off, and shut the water off again. No need to warm the water, that's wasteful!

I have two more evenings on the Camino. During that time, the Governor of Galicia has asked the 2.7 million people of the region to cut back to an 89 second shower to compensate for the time I will be spending warming the water to a point where I won't drop a nipple down the drain when I step into a stream of ice cold water!

There is also flyers in the rooms reminding everyone that it takes 6 gallons of water to launder a towel! Here again, I am willing to do my part! Each night I drag 5 additional towels out and soil them, knowing that you can easily get 6 towels in a washing machine at a time, thereby reducing the water per towel to only 1 gallon. Now if everyone else will get on the band wagon, we'd save enough water to take a wonderful 91 second shower each night!

I shouldn't but...

My day in pictures. You supply the text (it's 3:30 a.m.):