Monday May 20, 2019

Lugar do Corgo to Ponte de Lima, Portugal—Day 5; 21,312 steps

Proverbs 5 

v. 11-12, 14a  At the end of your life you will groan, when your flesh and body are spent.  You will say, “How I hated discipline!  How my heart spurned correction!…  And I was soon in serious trouble….”  In a conversation with German Raik I referred to him as a millenial.  “I’m not a millenial,” he said.  “I have focus.  Millenials don’t know what they want.  They don’t have any goals.  I’m not a millenial anymore.”  I can’t speak for other young—or older—people on the Camino but I know many who walk are looking for something, following a call, seeking purpose.  They don’t want their life to drift away unlived.  So they discipline themselves with backpack and early wake-ups and many kilometers underfoot each day, preparing themselves for what they hope the Way will give them.  Dear Lord Jesus, may all these pilgrims meet you, the One who is the Way.

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We heard no sound until we got up at 7 am.  Jacinto put out breakfast at the long table:  rolls, cheese, some kind of salami I didn’t touch, butter, plenty of jam, coffee, tea and Nestle’s chocolate powder for my hot chocolate.  There was no sign of Portuguese Fernanda.  I gave Brazilian Fernanda more painkillers for her walk today. 

Before we left home Pastor Trevor had asked me, “Do you have any tokens to give out?”  I didn’t but I was intrigued.  What could I carry to give to special people I met that was simple, meaningful and lightweight for both giver and receiver?  I remembered that the nuns at Carrion de los Condes gave out hand-colored paper stars at the pilgrim mass—so that was taken.  Looking through the two-year-olds Sunday School room for rhythm instruments for the church’s women’s retreat (another story), I spied a box of little foam hearts with paper-covered sticky backs.  Aha!  I asked for some and on each wrote one of several short Bible verses that mentioned “heart.”  My tokens—not with my name but with Jesus’.  

I gave Raik a token.  

Maurice and I were the last ones out at nine.

The path today was beautiful, curving in the sun past fields and vineyards, up a rocky slope and into a woodland covered with calla lilies.  Along the way were lemon and orange trees bursting with fruit, several delicate passion fruit and flower vines and a cafe (still checking out those pastels de nata).  I was afraid I would be tired and sore but the day went quickly and well.   

We passed Brazilian Maria, moving slowly with a hiking pole.  She sends her pack ahead; many people our age do.  Someone approaching us from behind recognized the Maryland flag we have sewn on our packs.  Tom was a Naval Academy grad, now retired.  We walked and talked with him and his wife until they wanted to go faster than we could.  Soon we caught up with some of the Casa Fernanda ladies.

As the path broadened into a tunnel of plane trees for the entry into Ponte de Lima along the river, we came to the Hotel Imperio do Norte right on the promenade, where Maurice had reserved us two nights so we could take a rest day; he even sprang for the extra five euros a night so we could have a riverfront room.  Its little 4×6 balcony with two basic chairs was a delight, with glimpses through the trees of river and church and a perfect view three stories down of the pilgrims walking into town—or marching might be a better word, as the town played band music all afternoon through speakers inconspicuously mounted on the lampposts. 

Maurice went out for lunch supplies and we ate on the balcony (including the two oranges I’d been carrying for two days), then spent time writing, people-watching and listening to rousing renditions even of the US Marine and Army songs.  I watched an old man below on the promenade who held hands with his awkwardly moving wife and led her to a bench.  They sat awhile, then he stood in front of her, bent down and adjusted her sleeves, then helped her up, took her hand and walked her back the way they had come.  They reminded us of our daughter-in-law’s father caring for his wife.  Kindness everywhere.

The younger people from Fernanda’s had formed a WhatsApp group and added us to it.  We met for a final dinner with them before they continued their walk while we had our rest day.  It was another enjoyable evening for the bargain price of e7.50 apiece including wine, dessert and coffee, although there was no port and no dancing.  Maurice and I stayed a little later talking with Raik then walked out with him before we headed our different directions.  “It’s not goodbye, it’s just for now,” said Raik.  He promised to invite us to his wedding someday.  Then he said, “I have the heart.  I keep it in my pocket.”

PS: I am unable to keep up my ambitious plan of posting daily. But stay tuned. I am taking notes….