the gritty industrial edge of Burgos with my feet like flabby filets of halibut, I hit a very low low. Walking A to B day after day suddenly seemed pointless. And somehow indulgent - given the coterie of persons looking after the kids.
Over black rice and squid that night we talked to a Quebec man who did the French Camino last year after an "unexpected break-up." He has already walked 500 km in France this time (after getting re-married three months ago). Did he ever feel like giving up? Every night he said. "You've got to get up tomorrow morning and put one foot in front of the other." The Camino is only 50 percent fitness, he said, the other half is psychological.
Of course the wonderful diversion, through the pain, is seeing people living alongside lives past.
Tallulah, 13, sends me funny texts. At home we butt heads a lot and she is less than chatty (with me) but we are compatible correspondents. She sent me this selfie of her and Cy. Taken when we were in Cuba at easter.
She asks if we can come home early, it's too long to be away, she says. She's worried about forgetting things. Soccer and school stuff. Tallulah has a hard time focusing. I sent her this photo I had just taken of a sunflower field.
I said she reminded me of the one bright sunflower in the middle. Do you see it? All the other sunflowers were waiting for the sun to come up ( boring!) but the Tallulah sunflower was having a good old look around.