If you’ve been to Europe you’ve seen people who bring their dogs with them when they go out to eat. And it’s not only when eating outdoors, I personally have seen people bring their dogs inside of a restaurant and I have absolutely no problem with this. You see… the same people who bring their dogs with them to a restaurant are the people who walk their dogs with no leash. These dogs are trained, well-behaved, and well loved by their owners.

Over 10 years ago my cousin from France was visiting. She, two of my daughters, my dog, and I took a trip to Gatlingburg, Tennessee in October when the color of the leaves was absolutely magnificent. We decided to go into town for lunch, found a place with outdoor seating and tried to get a table with my little dog in tow. ABSOLUTELY NOT! Eventually we had to settle for a table next to the fence surrounding the patio with Templeton on the outside of the fence. He was well behaved and sat quietly while people passing by would stop to pet him and remark on how he should be able to sit with his pack.

So here I am in Spain, eating outdoors at a wonderful cafe on the plaza, sharing my space with a pigeon. It’s not even a well behaved pigeon. It wanders around from table to table sometimes taking flight near diners.

So I ask you if you have to share your outdoor space (I’ll leave the indoor controversy for now) with someone’s well behaved chihuahua or beagle or an on-the-loose pigeon, which would you choose? Think about it…a well behaved dog gives you and your partner something to talk about other than how big the Amex bill is. Or in the case of my husband in me we don’t argue because I’m enchanted by the dog at the table next to us and wondering how our little dog is alone at home. Unruly children are captivated by a dog and don’t need to be pacified by a parent’s phone. That huge steak isn’t going to waste because Fido is going to share the meal. Plus the pigeon is basically a free agent. No one is in charge of it.

I’m going to suggest one more controversial thought. I was in a restaurant in Molinaseca when I saw a gray cat saunter into the restaurant, obviously unaccompanied. Two little girls at a table near me were captivated by this cat. No one screamed at the presence of this feline, no one’s head exploded, the cat didn’t even beg for food. It just walked around and left.

Full disclosure…I’m allergic to cats so I’ve never developed a real appreciation for the feline personality but I certainly respect others who do. If you want to bring you cat and it’s well behaved and willing to sit under your table for the duration of the meal…have at it.

My dog Pico (left) and his nephew Zinnie (short for Zinfandel)

I welcome (and encourage) your responses to this post.

Buen Camino


El Acebo, September 24, 2021

There’s a couple near me. He’s younger, Irish maybe. She’s older, Germanic. I can’t really hear their conversation and I don’t want to. I can hear the cadence of their voices and the conversation seems companionable. It’s pleasant and I feel happy to be in this place.

I stopped here because it seemed to be the only place open with food. The sign advertised empanadas. I was hungry and in need of a comfortable place after my morning.

I walked 8 miles from Foncebadon to El Acebo. I thought it was going to be an easy walk after the 16.76 miles that I did yesterday. It was not. It was cold, windy, and rainy. I stopped at Cruz de Fierro, had a little cry, sang a song, and left the stone I carried from home.

And now I’m here in a little hippy bar run by Germans. I love it. The food is simple and good, and the atmosphere is peaceful. Everybody seems to think that today is different somehow. The traffic is slower and maybe there is something different about the pilgrims.

I saw the Spanish man I walked with yesterday for a short time. He’s a former professor of humanities (in 5 languages) at Notre Dame. We had a most interesting conversation about health care, education, the history of Castilla and why the people of Léon want to separate from Castilla.

I met some lovely American women who are on their first camino. They were so happy to be here. We had fun discussing how good the Santiago cake is.

It feels like today has come full circle with the morning difficulties blending in with the pleasantness of the afternoon. As the bartender said to me, “There can be no light without the darkness”. Even more, the light and the dark together have made for a very good day.

Buen Camino


Today’s title is not a reflection of a hankering for things American. No. Rather it’s indicative of my lack of full understanding when it comes to ordering food.

I can never find exactly what I want on the Bob Evan’s menu but i know I can tell the waitress what I want and she will bring it to me: two eggs over easy, chicken sausage, dry whole wheat toast, jam, and coffee. Simple, no problem. But things are not the same in Spain.

This morning I asked for one fried egg, toast with jam, and coffee. The menu has two eggs with pieces of baguette. My toast was on the side with jam and my coffee. I hadn’t planned on the extra bread and I hate to waste food. So I wrapped the bread in my napkin and tucked it in my backpack along with the apple I bought yesterday.

Breakfast in Hospital de Obrigo

So I had a good breakfast and later I can stop for a second cafe con leche and have a second breakfast.

Buen Camino


Once upon a time two pilgrims were walking the Camino when they came upon a sign. The sign was not very clear as to which way to go so they looked the sign over and debated what to do.

Pretty soon a local man and three local women came along. The man tried to explain to the Pilgrims which was the correct way to go. While the discussion was not heated by any means it was rather animated.

Soon my walking partner and I came upon this scene and we stopped to assess the question of direction. At one point I noticed the three women who were looking at us like three wise abuelas (grandmothers). They each nodded their heads to the right and give a gentle wave of their hands in that direction as if to say, “It’s ok we know the correct direction.” So we quietly went on our way and left the man with the pilgrims to hash out the meaning of the sign.

It was the correct direction so I guess the moral of the story is this, “when an abuela tells you which way to go, pay attention.”

Buen Camino


Sahagun, September 16, 2021

That’s a pretty whimsical title compared to how I’m feeling today. Sahagun is the geographic halfway point on the camino de Santiago.

I’m under the 400 km mark and the road is pretty flat. I should be taking the camino by storm by now. And yet I don’t think I am.

Outside of Moratinos

I planned this camino to be filled with days of 12 miles or less. I didn’t want this to be an endurance race. I wanted to enjoy the camino and spend more time with my spirit than struggling to take another step. Yet no matter how hard I tried to plan this camino I find myself with 19 miles ahead of me today. Maybe the idea that I could “plan” a pilgrimage is the fatal flaw.

The days have been starting out cold, in the low 50’s. I put on my jacket and shorts (because I opted to not carry the 12 oz that my pants weigh) and then the sun comes out and I’m warm. Next clouds cover the sun and the wind kicks up and I’m cold again. By the time I arrive someplace even in the sun I feel chilled to the bone.

It’s lonely sometimes on the Camino. I’ve had wonderful times with the French on the camino but they are moving faster than me so I’ve lost that connection. It seems that the Americans have all grouped up and don’t seem inclined to add a new person even for a while. And the Spanish? They are among the friendliest and my Spanish is so poor that conversation is frustrating for all. I MUST LEARN SPANISH!

Food has been a challenge too. I just haven’t felt like eating most of the time. Of course if I don’t eat I don’t have the strength to keep going. So I try.

A chicken hamburguesa

Ok it’s time for this pity party to be over. I have accomplished a lot so far. And I know I would be far more gracious to others than I am being to myself. I have a sandwich, fruit, water, and a ticket to take the bus today. I feel very good that with the help of the owner where I am staying I managed to acquire that ticket. The bus will drop me in Mansilla de las Mulas and I will backtrack 6 km to Reliegos.

So the camino isn’t all deep spiritual thoughts and joy. Sometimes it’s downright hard and today is one of those days for me. And I’m going to be fine and tomorrow is a new day.

Buen Camino


Calzadilla de la Cuaza, September 12, 2001

It has occurred to me that being a woman walking alone on the camino can be a lonely endeavor. Because I’ve had a few days off and lost the people I was walking with at the beginning I find that many walkers have “paired up” with another person or group and while I might walk with them for a bit I’m not really part of the group. Plus most of the people walking are Spanish and my ____ with the language is so poor that talking is difficult both for me and them. But then there are the French 🇫🇷 🤗

I have the distinction of being fairly fluent in French. Because my mother was French my brother and I grew up speaking French to her and English to our dad. Well today the French Armada arrived in full force. I know because I called out “Hola” and the response I heard back was “Bonjour”. So I fell in with them and picked right up in French learning where they are from, where they started from, etc., etc. It was great! And then the inevitable question of where I come from. The United States of America. And then the inevitable wide eyes and open mouths. An American who speaks such good French? No! And with that introduction I became part of the group.

Later I was supposed to have dinner with one couple at my hotel but unfortunately because of Covid the hotel stopped serving dinner. So I met them in the town square and we dined there with another French gentleman. Over dinner the woman said to me (in French), “ We love speaking with people from other countries but our English is so poor”. I didn’t think of myself as a foreigner. I was simply speaking as one of the people at the table.

We had dinner together the next night and another French couple joined. There was a rousing discussion at the table over French and American politics. You might think that a dangerous subject to tackle but it was positively fun. I tried my best to explain the electoral college system and was privileged to listen to them explain the education and health care system of a country that is part of a larger collective of countries. I felt very much part of the group.

They are all walking a bit faster than I am but we have all exchanged WhatsApp contacts and promised to keep in touch and send pictures. Invitations were issued all around to come and visit. I’m not alone on the camino anymore.

Bon Chemin

Buen Camino


Hontanas, 9 September 2021

I think the church in Hontanas is my favorite along the camino. As you enter town there is a cafe at the top of a road that slopes down to the church.

I remember on the Camino two years ago that Glen was very tired and stopped there. I was convinced there would be a better place down the road.

When I came to the church I was immediately captivated by the prayer area set up with ancient chants playing. There was a young man kneeling and praying. Even more surprising there was a plate of cookies. There didn’t seem to be anyone from the church around. No one to make sure someone doesn’t steal the cookies or the candlesticks or even to make sure that the lit candles don’t burn the church down.

And so today I am here again. It’s all the same. The plate of cookies is gone but that’s probably a remnant of what COVID has given us. The entire church seems to say, come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28

Buen Camino


Hornillos, 8 September 2021

Tonight after a 14 mile day I decided to attend the Pilgrim’s Mass at the church here in Hornillos. There were 20-25 of us from the US, Germany, France, England, Ireland, and definitely Spain.

The Mass was in Spanish of course so I couldn’t follow the liturgy and since I’m not catholic I had to take my cues from those around me about when to stand and when to sit. I enjoyed sitting there letting the words wash over me like waves and soaking in the gilded art. There was a wonderful statue of Santiago; he looked so happy.

After Communion the priest called us all forward and began handing out copies of the Pilgrim’s Blessing in each of our languages and had us read them aloud one language group at a time. Then we sang a song written in French but easy enough for us all to follow.

Then the priest did something I didn’t expect. He asked each language group to sing something in our own language. When it came to the Americans (me and one other guy) I said the first thing that popped into my head, “Let’s sing the Star Spangled Banner.” My partner in this duet looked at me and said “I don’t think I know all the words.” It didn’t matter. We put our hands over our hearts and sang loud and proud even if we did sound like the Tone Deaf Choir of Hornillos. As we sang I thought about the Americans in Afghanistan and all the people back home.

After all the singing the priest had those of us with our pilgrim passports to bring them forward and he stamped them with great flourish. There was a bit more singing with the priest after that.

Before we left he wished us all a buen camino. I turned around and said, in my best Spanish, “And also with you because we are all here on a pilgrimage.” He responded, “Yes. In life as well we are on camino.” Then he asked my name and did something totally unexpected. He made the sign of the cross on my forehead, placed his had on my head and prayed for me. Now maybe he was praying for you obvious protestant soul since I did not take communion, or perhaps for my terrible singing, or maybe he had some intuition that my right foot was in a lot of pain. What I do know is that this man prayed so fervently over me that I felt it down to my toes.

May God bless each and everyone of you on your camino.

Buen Camino


Ok the weirdest thing just happened to me. If you recall I had a great lunch at this restaurant by the river. When I found out they open at 7:00 for dinner I decided to go back the next day for dinner. Bonus…they have paella on the menu.

So I go a little early and find a table outside and order a Red Martini (martini rojo), that’s Martini Red vermouth.

I’m sipping my drink, enjoying the people watching, and anticipating my paella. All of a sudden this older woman (I found out later she’s 85) asks if she can sit with me. In my pathetic Spanish I understand that she’s waiting for a friend who is late.

So we start chatting and my Spanish is so bad I ask if she speaks French or English so she starts speaking to me in French. We talk for awhile and soon another Spanish lady sits at the table next to me and my Spanish lady and she start talking.

Pretty soon she’s saying to me she told the other lady that she’s waiting for a friend but she’s speaking French with me until her friend shows. So my lady and I keep talking. I find out her name is Danielle and she is delighted to know my daughter’s name is Danielle. Then I tell her how Lucien/Lucienne is a family name in my family. In the meantime my paella has arrived.

Finally her friend arrives…and takes the chair opposite my lady at my table and the two start talking. I’m wondering if I’ll be having my dinner with two guests.

Eventually they both get up and thank me for allowing my lady to sit with me until her friend showed up and off they walk to find another table.

And now one at a time people are asking for an extra chair. So I’m sitting alone in my one chair. Another lady just came up to me, looked at my paella and said something in Spanish. I had to tell her I didn’t speak Spanish but the paella was bueno. She said “bueno” and got a chair from another table to join the ever expanding crowd at the table next to me.

Can anything else happen?

Oh yeah it just got a little more weird and this was of my own doing. The table next to me had 5 people sitting there and one chair had a lady’s purse sitting on it. Then there was the lady who commented on the paella sitting facing the street between that table and mine. I thought she was with the other people and when I realized she was alone I asked if she wanted to sit at my table.

She spoke no English and I didn’t have the Spanish to keep up with her. I did catch that she had 5 sons and 8 grandchildren and she pointed out to me at least 3 times that we were two women alone or possibly two single women. And she followed that up with pointing to herself and saying “solo” then pointing at me and saying “solo”. Plus she asked me 4 times if I had a hotel and said something that I didn’t really understand but the gestures and inflection seemed to indicate that I should avoid strange men which I heartily agreed with.

Finally I asked for the bill and told the waiter to put her drink on my tab. I tried to express to her that I had a pleasant time talking and I wished her a good night. As I walked away I saw the waiter and he gave me a big 👍

I may have been anticipating a quiet dinner but I’ll certainly say I had an interesting one.


Burgos, 7 September 2021

I like visiting museums, mostly art museums. My favorite is to see an exhibit by one artist or of one genre of art. In this way I learn about that artist or style of art.

This morning I went to the museum of Burgos which is all about the history of Burgos. I had low expectations but the entrance fee was only a euro. Pretty soon I entered what I think of as “the broken pots” room. How many shards of pottery can one room contain and why am I looking at them? I wasn’t terribly excited by it but then a small thought crept into my brain and changed everything.

Suddenly I was struck by how intricate the pottery was and how. It changed as time passed. The pottery was plain and rough but soon lines and grooves appeared around the pottery, and drawings began to show up. I never really looked at these things before. I started to ask myself, “Who first decided to take a stick and make a pattern of lines on this bowl?” Who was the first person to say, “I’m think I’ll draw a little bird on this. I think that would be real pretty. And maybe I could put some more birds on these bowls to match.” And how long was it before someone said, “Hey so and so drew a bird on their pottery”. I wasn’t looking at bits of pottery anymore, I was looking at someone’s creation in clay.

It spoke to me of humanity’s desire to be creative. We are each of us looking to put our own little mark on something. And it’s not just about a bird on pottery…it’s a descant added on to a song, a particular turn of phrase that speaks volumes, looking at a molecule and asking, “What happens if I do this?” It’s a bit of computer code or a silly joke. We all want to add something to this life. More importantly we all have something to add to this life. And…it all adds something to life.

The “what” that gets added isn’t as important is the “who” who added it. Don’t be afraid to add your piece of creativity. The world needs you.

Buen Camino