Tag: Journal

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Camino: Bordeaux to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port

I did not know I was tired until I slept and I did not know I was hungry until I ate. What a good night. I spent the night in the Mercure hotel in Bordeaux. A delightful place. The staff were very kind, even though I donโ€™t speak a lick of French. Maybe they all roll their eyes after I turned away but I didnโ€™t see it. I also did not sense it. Which I think is even more important. Check out is not until noon but I think Iโ€™ll pack things up here and head over to the train station. What better place to watch humanity. More later.

11:34 a.m. I am at the train station. Iโ€™m looking for pilgrims, but I have not seen one yet. I suppose in one way or another we are all pilgrims, but Iโ€™m looking for some very specific ones. I would like to wish someone, Buen Camino.

11:41 a.m. and as I stand here, I just remembered Blaine the Mono. Stephen King fans unite!

12:19 p.m. I have met my first pilgrim, although she walked it two years ago. She saw the Cross of St. James on my pack (thank you, Dana, for sewing them onโ€”I havenโ€™t forgotten our deal!) I am smiling. Becoming more real.

1:10 p.m. I just began The Road to Daybreak by Henri Nouwen. The first two sentences: โ€œThis is the first day of my new life! Though it sounds melodramatic, I cannot avoid feeling that something significant is starting today.โ€ Ummmโ€ฆ..

2:23 p.m. on the train to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. Many pilgrims.

3:24.

4:21 p.m. Arrived at my apartment for the next two nights. It is lovelyโ€”Gรฎtes Vue Montagne St-Jean-Pied-de Port. Five stars and I havenโ€™t even checked out the bed.

7:53 p.m. I walked back into town to find a bite to eat and a few groceries for the next couple of days. Not much. Just a few eggs and bread. Iโ€™ll go back in tomorrow for a bigger meal.

As I walked, I was thinking about the pilgrims I metโ€ฆ no, โ€œmetโ€ is the wrong wordโ€ฆ encountered or bumped into along the way today. *WE* were all still caught up in our normal lives. We were rushing and pushing and jostling. We were not good pilgrims (I donโ€™t even know that we are pilgrims yet.) We were our normal selves. Always in a hurry. Always checking the clock. Always believing that our journey is of utmost importance. Not true Young Grasshoppa. Thisโ€”in my no miles on the Camino, yet, opinionโ€”is not the Way of St. James.

St. James was guided by an angel to his final resting place in Santiago. Perhaps, instead of guiding our own path, we allow Godโ€™s holy angels to guide usโ€ฆ is that a statement or a question?

I prayed the Rosary today in a beautiful church. I understood that I was at the foot of the cross with Mary. I had my left hand on Jesus foot and Mary had a hand on mine. Mary had her right hand on Jesusโ€™ other foot and I had my other hand on hers. We stood side by side. At first, I was distracted by the others coming and going, but Mary said for me not to listen to them. She said that I was to listen for His voiceโ€”that He would speak to me along the way. I will listen.

I lit a candle and asked her to pray for me along The Way. She will.

This peregrino is tired. Blessings to you all.

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Camino: Enid, Oklahoma to Bordeaux, France

It is 11:09 AM and I am in the airport in Oklahoma City. My flight doesnโ€™t leave for a couple more hours so I stopped for some breakfast. It was Andy who drove me to the airport and he took a before photo.

The next leg of the journey will take me from here to DFW, where I have another short layover before heading out to Paris.

The flight to Dallas was uneventful and short. I am hopeful that the next flight will at least be uneventful! It will be long…. about 10 hours/5,231 miles. I hope to sleep which is something I can never do on a plane. Donโ€™t take that as complaining! I get to do this thing. Having a few French fries before boarding because you never really know about what will be served.

It is 12:02 Paris time and we are taxing to the runway at DFW.

Sunrise at 37,000 feet. About an hour out from Paris.

Arrived in Paris without any trouble. Only was able to sleep for about an hour or so. I wish I could learn to do that. Sleep on the plane that is. Took a taxi to the Montparnasse train station, and then waited on the train.

Arrived in Bordeaux. 24 1/2 hours after I left. Long trip but not a complaint. I see sleeping in Babyland in my future.

A room with a pretty nice view.

I have two trains tomorrow, but really a pretty easy day. Only about three hours of traveling and then I will be at Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. I have two nights there, which Iโ€™m really looking forward to. Not only will it give me the opportunity to rest up from the trip, but I can also explore the town at a leisurely pace.

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Camino: T-minus 15 hours 47 minutes (but who’s counting)

In the final hours leading up to departure from Sherwood Forest, I am finally at rest. Everything is packed, and the house is clean. If I have forgotten it, I probably don’t need it. If it is not clean, it’s probably not all that dirty. I now sit with a glass of wine and a movie that I found–The Wall (I know nothing about it, but the blurb says it is a tour-de-force performance by Martina Gedeck. I don’t know her either, but I’m glad she had a forceful tour.)

The alarm is set for 7:30 a.m. tomorrow. My trusty chauffeur will be picking me up at 9:00 a.m. (trusty chauffeur is good for a snarky comment below.) Roughly 24 hours after I wake up in the a.m., I will be landing in Paris. Bonjour. Merci. Parlez vous Francais? Nope. I’m from Oklahoma, and the only thing we parlez vous around here is… well, I was hoping for another Come-for-da-bull joke there, but it didn’t work out.

The Queen is on her perch, glaring down at me. She is beginning to catch on and the claws are flexing. Maybe I’ll make it out the door before she goes all screaming terrorist.

You all have a good night’s rest. I’ll try and update tomorrow, but I’m not sure how all that will work out, so it will likely be sometime Sunday and I’ll be in Bordeaux, France (poor me…. bwaahahahaha.) With that, “Good night, and good morning, in case we don’t talk before that!)

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Camino: T-minus Two Days to Departure

I’ve packed and repacked the backpack about 6 times now. In the process, I’ve lightened the load by 7 pounds and got the weight down to 25lbs, which includes water. Several items in the first picture did not make the cut. The only real luxury item is the iPad. On a shorter trip, I might consider leaving it at home, but I plan on doing some other writing while I’m there, and a keyboard attached to the phone just wouldn’t work.

I’ve done plenty of walking with weight, so I believe all shall be well. If not, all my pictures will be of me sitting on a beach somewhere in Europe (life could be a lot worse.)

I’ve scheduled sixty days on the Camino with 46 walking days and 14 days off. This is what those stages look like, but could change once I’m there.

It looks a bit overwhelming when I look at some of the daily distances, but then I remember that it is not a race–although those 15+ mile days are a bit intimidating. On average, I’ll be walking 4 to 5 hours per day. Walk for a couple of hours in the morning, have lunch, have a siesta by the gurgling fountain, walk for a couple more hours, take off the boots, and enjoy the rest of the day. No problem (and everyone reading this rolls their eyes!)

I fly out on Saturday and arrive in Paris on Sunday Morning. From Paris, I take a train to Bordeaux where I’ll spend the night. The following day is a train ride to St-Jean-Pied-de-Port, where I’ll spend two nights getting my days in order and breathing. The pilgrimage officially begins on Wednesday, April 10th. If all goes well, I’ll be in Santiago around June 10th. Regardless of what happens, I’ll need to be back in Paris by June 26th–that’s my return flight.

For those who know her, the Queen is not pleased.

Am I nervous? Hmmm…. un poco.

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Travel: Portugal (wet clothes)

My dear travel adventure readers –

I left you last night anticipating the outcome of my adventures in laundry. I must report a slight failure in this endeavor. It turns out that hanging clothes on a rack in an apartment that dips to the high 50s at night and in a damp climate is not conducive to the drying of clothes. (My Dear Mr. Watson, Is this why weโ€™ve seen peoplesโ€™ clothes hanging out for several days? Sherlock, your mind never ceases to amaze me!) So, this morning, I woke up to cold, wet clothes, which left me with a number of options 1) go out in the shirt I slept in and hear my grandmotherโ€™s voice all day, โ€œYou look like you slept in that shirt.โ€ 2) go out in a wet shirt and hear my grandmother’s voice all day, โ€œYouโ€™ll catch your death of cold running around in that wet shirt!โ€ Or 3) find a way to dry the shirt. Option number 3) was the clear winner, but how?

I first hauled out the trusty space heater and had plans to lay the shirt across it and was, in fact, doing so (Sherlock was screaming in the back of my head the entire time) when I read the small print on top of said heater, โ€œNฤ€O COBRIR.โ€ Iโ€™m not sure if that is Portuguese or not, but Google Translate kicked that back as โ€œNot Cover.โ€ Plan Bโ€ฆ

Rooting through a bathroom cabinet, I found an industrial hairdryer, so for the last fifteen minutesโ€”had you been looking for meโ€”you would have found me in the bathroom with a hairdryer in one hand and an espresso in the other, patiently drying my clothes. I, at first, felt somewhat guilty about using the electricity in such a way. Still, seeing as Iโ€™ve had no use whatsoever for a hairdryer in the last fifteen yearsโ€ฆ yeah, my carbon footprint in the hairdryer department remains small.

For the record, there was one other point when my grandmother spoke inside my head; it was when I set the hairdryer down in the wet sink (please remember that Iโ€™ve been lacking in the hairdryer doโ€™s/donโ€™ts for several years). My grandmother said, โ€œWho are you? Thomas Merton!โ€ I donโ€™t actually know whether my grandmother knew who Thomas Merton was nor the suspicious circumstances of his untimely death, but I got the point and quickly removed the hairdryer from the sink.

My dear friends, I am caffeinated, have dry clothes, am eating a tasty breakfast, drinking one more espresso, and am about to head out on todayโ€™s grand adventure. Iโ€™ll be back unless I run into that bearโ€ฆ. hmmmmโ€ฆ. maybe the hairdryer in the sink was todayโ€™s bear? Sneaky bear.

Todayโ€™s adventureโ€ฆ

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Journal: September 11, 2022

The Queen was always a big help while I was writing. Full of inspiration and love bites to keep we awake. Crazy Cat!

I typed the date and realized that I should probably be journaling about the events of this day twenty-one years ago, but no… there’s been so much of that. Time to find peace even in the horror of it all. Instead, I checked back and saw that it was June 3, 2022, of my last journal entry, and I needed to catch up. (I’ll be off and on with this, so don’t expect one all the time.)

What’ve I been up to? Writing. Writing. Writing. I have finished the third draft of The Marble Finger: a Father Anthony Savel Mystery. What a remarkable process writing a book can be. It seems that every waking moment and available thinking space in the mind can be consumed with something entirely fictitious. I wrapped it up on Saturday, but all those characters are still chatting away in my head, wanting to go off on some new adventure–which, by the way, I’m already plotting… Salt Lake City. A long way from Wisconsin, but… no. No. No. That will have to wait for another time. Must finish up the Finger first. It is presently in the hands of five beta readers. Once they blow holes in it and I attempt to patch them up with bubble gum and ostrich feathers, I’ll get it out. The original deadline was December 1st, but I believe I will be several weeks ahead. Keep you posted–of course, I will! I want to sell a few copies! But… back to that bit where they want to keep chatting.

I’ve been so involved with it for so many weeks now that I’m finding it hard to let go and not want to go back and fiddle with it a bit, to be involved with them and have them fill the mind. That is one of the great aspects of writing: they take over. They do their things and say what they’ve got to say, and you are at their mercy. OH! That does remind me of a movie: Magic. I don’t know that I ever saw it, but I remember it. The movie poster! Such great rhymes ๐Ÿ™„…

Abracadabra,
I sit on his knee.

Presto chango,
and now he is me.

Hocus pocus,
we take her to bed.

Magic is fun;
weโ€™re dead.

I promise you it is certainly not all that bad! It is just that the process is very consuming, regardless of whether or not the end result is any good. Anyhow…

I’ll be working on the grammar of The Golden Fistula and reissuing it a few weeks before the Finger comes out. Of the criticism that I received on Fistula via Amazon, it was the grammar. I’ve no idea what to do with any of it, but now I’ve got people who do. haha. I’ve also got new cover art coming for Fistula. The same artist will be doing Finger and the label for the new wine that is currently fermenting: Isabella. Can you say, “Some fava beans and a nice Chianti.”

Preach the Gospel. Write books. Make wine. Hmmm… I haven’t painted for a while.

Recipes to try: Pull-Apart Rosemary Garlic Bread. This one looks delicious, and I will definitely be trying it out.

What I’ve learned: If you try, you may surprise others, but you’ll definitely surprise yourself. You have a great mind. Apply it.

Thought for the day: Rejoice with me! I preached it this morning, and it is a good thought.

That’s it for now. Time for sleep and dreams…

Ay, thereโ€™s the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil…

… and Shakespeare now sleeps.
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Journal: June 3, 2022

I arrived back in Oklahoma late in the evening on Tuesday and have been processing all that I was able to see and do while in Italy (Florence/Rome). It was my first time out of the country (other than Canada and I don’t really count that one), so it took me a few days there just to get past the initial travel jitters. Afterward, I settled in and enjoyed it all. Funny, in all the pics and photos that I posted and that generated the most comments, etc, it was The Hat that generated the greatest conversation.

I do like the hat and it has now found a prominent home in my house. A great reminder of a wonderful experience.

I haven’t decided where I’ll go next, although the church has a pilgrimage to Israel in the works for next year, I’m thinking I would really like to visit Sweden/Norway. Not sure why other than to go up to the northern parts of those countries to try and see the trolls (an excellent documentary on the trolls can be found here.) There’s also India and that has been pulling at me for a long time.

For now, I’m working on getting back to normal. Nothing bad on the jetlag issue, but I have been waiting on the plumber to show up for the last three days to fix a leaky main leading into the house. Yep. You can go on vacation for as long as you like but the pipes are still going to break and the world is going to continue to revolve, and that’s OK too. I’ll be back at it for real on Monday but for now, I’m going to continue in vaca mode, which included bottling up the new vintage: Lucrezia (as in Borgia).

A very tasty, bright, and light, Chardonnay.

Finally, this morning, The Queen knocked over half a cup of coffee onto the book/manuscript I’ve been trying to write for the last couple of years: The Marble Finger (the second of the Fr. Anthony Savel mysteries). I figure that it was her way of telling me to get on with it or get it off the desk so that she’ll have more room to lay down. It is time. Actually, it is past time: let the murdering begin!

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Poem: Rules

there are rules

how we hate them

there are rules

but they must be followed

there are rules

but this is the night

they are broken

why?

because the pink engaged the blue

the blue was overwhelmed

and the sky became an end

Yes

There are the days

when the moon shines

and the whiskey flows

but then there are days

when the atrocity of it all

melts in the pink of your flesh

cries for another day

and screams at the night of your death

to return to the day before

Yes

I’ll make the scars

that traverse my skin

waiting for the days

that you are buried in us

Yes

I saw the moon set

and the sun rise

there was no sleep

but

but

the pink engaged the blue

and the blue

and the blue

LIVED!

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Sun or Moon

the sun or the moon

my eyes are seeking you

the sun the moon

the skies are above you

the sun the moon

in the end we are together

a place of light

and a place where the skies

skip to their own tune

a place of darkness

that brings hands

grasping for one another

snow on the mountain

end of things

but not the end

only a new beginning

in the full light

of the sun or the moon

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