Sambasue21

Camino Madrid :”Too far Away “News from home and a rotten day walking

Persephone and Max Angelo -a few months after i got home

Walking the Camino Madrid :from Zamarrala to Ane 22.3 km

Well started on this account of a walk from Madrid to Olmedo in the NW of Spain in March this year ,and got distracted on the way.When I came back to writing and more discarded some of the topics.They are either too mundane ,too personal ,too difficult -what once seemed so pertinent and so meaningful lost its shine .

There I was in a bar in Zamarramala,a small pueblo 12 kms from Segovia ,getting ready to depart on the next leg .with my oldest daughter Nardwyn.Whats App showed me a pic of youngest daughter holding a baby linked to tubes and wires -born early .We burst into tears.Suddenly our real world was here in this small ,jovial bar and what i was doing seemed trivial and without any substance .In one small stroke ,or whats app pic ,contentment and self satisfaction ,adventure ,became just a selfish and meaningless act

I should have been there for the birth ,I meant to be there and had timed return for 4 weeks time ,,but babies are born without thought of timings and plans .There is my daughter looking at me and I can see the accusation in her eyes ,still groggy after the birth ,-you’ve let me down once again .

All day I walk ,thinking of them both.Should I have stayed home knowing that an early birth was a possibility ?or was I right to carry on with my life?Life is always unpredictable ,to be lived at the time and waiting on a birth is waiting for an event.I tried to rationalise that I could still be present ,sending warm thoughts and love (But I changed the return date and cut the time of walking )

At the moment there is no turning back.But our attention was not on the way .after the first few hours the arrows faded out and we walked through a pine forest with the usual several possible paths An interminable walk through pines and more pines and sand across flat fields and nothing visible ahead.After more dragging of feet and feeling sorry for ourselves we reached a rise ,and there was Ane,ghost village filled with old people who peered at us fearfully from cracks in doorways ,and cats .After a lot of talking we finally got someone who knew someone with the key to the hostal.Karma ,we had not brought any food and there were no bars or shops ,and by this time daughter was shivering with fever and could hardly stand .The sweet old man mumbled his way slowly to the hostal to open it for us ,It hadn’t been used for a while ,but luckily there was a smaller room with an electric heater so managed to warm it up and pile blankets over Nardwyn .All I had was panadol and a lemon tea bag ,there was hot water though.A pretty awful night as she got hotter ,but luckily by morning the fever had subsided and we were able to depart

So i guess this blogg entry is about making choices and then being able to wear them Also about being prepared : this was the first time ever that I walked without any food And retaining an awareness of the unpredictability of events like births and illnesses ,and weather.The camino may provide ,but there is also a very real need to be vigilant and as prepared as possible .

W alking the Mozarabe June 2016:Extracts from Journal part 1

(the following are extracts from mine and my husband/fellow walker journal kept during the walk from Almeria to Cordoba mid 2016,most of the Mozarabe )

Sunday June 12 Casa De Peregrinos in Santa Fe de Mundujar Walked, by our reckoning, 22 kilometres today . We started at 6am as we were expecting it to be hot. First part out of Almeria was long and uphill through the usual collection of fairly unattractive developments and industrial infrastructure that seems to surround every Spanish City, no matter how attractive the inner,old parts.

Our first test was the roundabouts as there is one massive one on the way out and we could not find the “flechas”. Eventually succeeded and for next hour and half we headed up hill until eventually we descended into the dry river bed of the Ataraxas river. This was a bit of a slog for four kilometres along the river, not only the length but only a small trickle in the middle which set off a rather noxious smell. Also the river bed seems to be used for dumping of rubbish ,so not a pristine environment.Continue reading “W alking the Mozarabe June 2016:Extracts from Journal part 1”

Half Sick of Flechas

Another kilometer another kilometer down

Stones moving underfoot

Gravel shifting on the ground

How long before I trip?

“I’m half sick of flechas,”said Suzette.

“Full sick of paths ,roads ,tracks ,igual “

Twist through fincas ,olive groves and wind around

When they were up they were up

When they were down they were down.

Wheres the next flecha ,seen it yet?

Chasing flechas across highways

Searching walls and paving and posts

Losing flechas all the time

So remote .

Glimpses before they disappear

Another few kms I fear

and its getting hot .

No pretty towns to pass through

No cool bars to rest a while

Only Spanish dogs to greet you with a snarl

or nip at heels from behind their gates.

And now no flechas here (nor any Lancelot to take my pack

or soothe my brow)

Past midday

Sun is searing hot

No help for it

This camino is all I’ve got .

(Thanks to The Lady of Shallot)

Surprises:Beautiful and inspiring art in unexpected places

“Los silencios ,muchas veces ,son mas elocuentes que las palabras “

almeida

(The silences ,very often ,will say more than words )

This entry is mainly photos of the bright ,beautiful ,strange and sometimes downright gloomy or eccentric paintings discovered near and around a village in North West of Spain :Nave de Ascunsion .The same town where my cousin enjoyed her pigs ears and we were given a bottle of wine by the barman who admired her spirit.The barman also gave us a map outlining the location of the 20 or more paintings on the sides of houses and factories in the village .Each year the same artist adds another to the collection ,and in their entirety they form a social and political commentary .

A Christening Party : and reflections on mothers,families , party preparations and other stuff

Well ,bloggs are meant to be immediate aren’t they ? So this is about a Christening ,yesterday .Our 6th grandchild ,Max Angelo Cicichino was baptised on Sunday and the after party was at our home .About 35 Thompson and Cicichino contingents arrived at the ceremony and then at the house .Surprisingly ,or unsurprisingly ,it was fun .More than that, the occasion was joyful .It felt very special to connect with a completely new family ,4 generations of Cicichinos.Thompsons only reached grandparents ,some key loved ones were not around ,all as my father said “fallen off the perch”:But my dad and mum and aunt were around I know .They would have loved a “shindig .”and my father would have sipped at various glasses of whisky during the afternoon ,made a speech and several toasts ,talked engagingly to everyone before falling foul of my mums watch and being halted in his tracks ,probably just before he sung “Three Old Ladies .My mum would have been besotted over baby Max ,advised Persephone ,talked a lot and even told a few stories alongside Gladys .Gladys of course would have been her outrageous ,grandstanding and funny self .All of them loved Persephone ,and their love surrounded us .

So this is about the christening ,but also about motherhood ,love and late understandings .Two full days preparation ,shopping for food and drinks ,then putting stuff away ,then cooking ,then cleaning and rearranging .Washed things that haven’t been washed for a year ,like tiles and bathroom floors ,glass doors and walls ,dust on ledges .The only thing i didn’t do was polish the brass candlesticks and the jugs and vases(only because dont have them )-this used to be my fathers job when they had people around to dinner ,Polish brass and silver ,including the knives and forks ,and the glasses .Mum would check .

But as I swept and mopped and dusted I thought of mum in her preparations for people ,and she had a three course meal beautifully cooked .As a teenager and then a young adult I would look at her and think what a waste of time ,who cares .Then eat the food .

The cleaning becomes a bit obsessional ,why is it important ? i dont think its just about people coming to the house and what they will think ,I suspect that its a part of a ritual .Like the Aboriginals have a house cleansing after some one dies in the house ,sweeping out the dirt and dust and burning leaves and herbs .Whitefellas sweep and mop and dust too ,in preparation for a significanct gathering.In this case a baby is being named in a spiritual way ,is being brought ritually into the Christian community ,and we all bear witness to the blessing ..Also being embraced by the families of both partners ,The two often diverse families come together ,and their connection is through this baby .Past and present symbolically united at this celebration ;all that we were and are ,all that our parents and siblings and aunts and uncles were and are ,and the potential for what we may become .Most importantly ,the framework ,with all its frailties and strengths ,patching up ,resistances and resiliences is right here .And this baby is gathered to all our hearts .

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