People know we like to travel and sometimes ask if we have any trips planned.  “Why, yes,” is my current answer.  “We’re going to walk the Camino de Santiago.  Do you know what that is?”  They almost never do, so I give a quick explanation before interest fades.  “It’s a thousand-year-old pilgrimage route across northern Spain.”  “Oh,” says the inquirer with mild curiosity.  “How far is that?”  “Five hundred miles,” I say, ready to break into song.  “WHAT?”  The surprise is delightful every time.  “Who are you going with?”  “With Maurice.”  “But with what group?”  “Oh, it’s just us,” I say.  (Us and the other thousand or two people along the trail on any given day.)  Eyes widen further as questions form:  How long will it take?  (Maybe six weeks.)  How many miles a day will you go?  (Maurice says twelve to fifteen.)  Do you usually walk that far?  (No.)  Have you ever backpacked?  (No!)  Will you have to carry a tent and build a campfire?  By now I am laughing.  “We must be nuts,” I say, and no one disagrees.

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