Things that don't fit elsewhere..

According to Alex, Portuguese is just Spanish with Sean Connery's accent. I tried this strategy and was understood.

Arrigo started the Camino with a white shirt thinking it would be cool. He was right but his shirt turned a lovely shade of brownish grey with fabulous sweat stains.

Garden statues are fantastically gaudy. I have seen both lions and dragons with soccer balls and on one occasion, I saw a house with a large statue of Venus, her breasts bare while the neighbors had a statue of Jesus with the bleeding heart facing her.




The churches are stunning but icons with real hair are just plain creepy. I will never change my mind on this 

I have lost the battle with vanity twice, putting on makeup once in Coimbra and once upon returning to Tomar. Alex noticed and said that Coimbra should be honored.

Speaking of vanity, my legs look as though they are covered in scales.

I always have toilet paper in my pocket, except for the one time I need it. 

My little tank of a camera is holding up well, though tuna oil is hard to get off of the filter. 

I try to challenge myself each day to using different settings on the camera, but when the sun is high and hot, I guiltily slink back to the automatic setting.

Tuna oil is also hard to get out of my towel. WTF is wrong with me and tuna oil?!?

Vapur water bottles are ass and are only good for drinking water from the luxury of the couch. Otherwise they burst, soaking everything you own.

The shooting stars here are incredible.

I am learning to write anywhere, in bed after every one is asleep, in a cafe, under a tree, next to a school complete with screaming children, in my head while someone is talking to me. This ability should come in handy as I return to being a student this fall.

News intrudes here, playing out on tvs in every bar and bakery. Alex Arrigo and I fought with the paradox of feeling joy in our journey and each other's company while witnessing the sadness an pain in the world... Needless tragedy after needless tragedy. Upon waking, Alex would look at his phone and then look to me, "do you even want to know?"

I have a pretty silk scarf with me, something I have not brought on past Caminos. It's amazing how a scarf can make any outfit seem appropriate for any occasion.

The scarf smells like tuna.

People park with absolutely no shame. Two women parked simultaneously on both sides of the road, completely blocking traffic. Another time, a man parked in front of the exit and on yet another occasion, a man stopped his car in a roundabout, getting out to give us directions, heedless of the cars honking behind him. No one's car is ever parked straight within the lines.

The salesman at Eddie Bauer lied when I asked him if the pants would stretch were I to wear and hand wash them 30 days in a row.

Baccalao, salted preserved cod, can be made thousands of ways and there are cookbooks all over the country attesting to this. I have tasted 40.

Chocolate melts. This must never be forgotten.

For the love of God, what distance is 500 meters??

I bought a new pocket knife here that is not recognizably serrated on one side. I have cut myself twice.

John said that Monica had been harassed by men all across the country. I dismissed that but within two blocks of leaving Alex, a man stopped his car and offered to drive me to Santiago. This happened 3 times today. I miss walking with my strong young men. 

Nearsighted...

One must know how to say 'ice' in every language; ghiaccio, gelo, hielo…

Time is relative. 8pm means 8:47pm

 Light switches are never in the same place. I am always looking for them and as a result, have spent many dark moments in bathrooms.


You can drink in the streets, taking your beer and wine wherever you go!

There is much garbage dumped in the forests. Pilgrims spend their days walking over the tiled remains of the old bathroom of someone's granny.

A bed (or mat) for the night costs anywhere from 0€ to 15€ and has averaged out around 9€. Of course this is not factoring in my 35€ Tomar luxury extravaganza. 

Bread and sardine trucks arrive into town, blaring their horns. People come out of their houses to buy their day's bread. I need this to happen in Chicago!

Roman roads are a magical novelty to walk on, coming from America where we are indoctrinated with the new.

There are Walmart like shops all over the country, called China Casas, selling only cheap goods from China. Walmart should consider a name change.

Breakfast of a cafe and a pastel de nata costs from anywhere from 1€ normally up to 1.5€ in the more expensive towns.


Three pasteis de natas a day is bordering on ridiculous, isn't it?

I will not, I repeat, I will not under any circumstances, wash my husband's socks. He is a capable grown man.