Monday May 27, 2019

Pontevedra, Spain—Day 12; 8828 steps

Proverbs 12

v. 14  From the fruit of their lips people are filled with good things, and the work of their hands brings them reward.  Maurice worked for 48 years, from the time he graduated from high school until he retired in 2014.  He worked steadily and hard in his paid employment, at home and in the community, providing for his family, encouraging others, keeping promises, honoring the Lord.  He still works in retirement.  “Look at your reward,” I said to him tonight.  “A fine family at home, and Galician cooking and vino tinto on a spring evening in Spain, plus you’re walking the Portuguese Camino!”  He looked skeptical at that last part, but he’s still glad he’s hanging out with me.  Thank you, Lord, for Maurice’s decades of hard work and honest words.  Thank you that I can share his reward with him.

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All the pilgrims were out between six and 9:30 except for us.  I lingered over a bowl of some sort of choco-crunchy cereal from our hostess’ breakfast supplies, plus there was Cola Cao and a bowl of oranges.  Little pleasures, but so delightful.  Maurice went out to paint and scour the streets one more time for the lost hearing aid.  While our hostess’ husband Jorge swept, changed sheets and straightened up for the next batch of pilgrims (and refilled the cereal), I sat in our room’s sunlit quiet to write, wait for my hair to dry and for the laundry to finish in the real washing machine.

There was no sign of the hearing aid, and Maurice said the street sweepers had gone by, so that was that.  We went out together to the nearby Santa Maria church where a smiling old woman stamped our credencials with sellos and took my euro for a climb up the tower stairs, past two little museum rooms, to a small terrace with the bells at the top. 

Then we walked to the Church of the Apparitions, where Sister Lucia of the Fatima children lived for over fifty years as a nun and had more visions (the other two children died young).  A sister lent us a marked and underlined book in English with highlights of the visions and she and two priests laughingly directed us up the convent stairs to the plain plastic chapel.  (We didn’t get the joke.  Was it us?) 

After doner kebabs for lunch we walked around town in the pleasant day, looking unsuccessfully for a pastry shop.  Finally a candy shop provided medrines, thickly sugared doughnut hole sort of things.

It was a quiet afternoon until other pilgrims arrived.  We chatted with a friendly woman from Gran Canaria.  The laundry I had hung outside the window in the airwell dried.  We picked another outdoor cafe for dinner but the dropping temperature and wind tunnel effect in that street quickly chilled Maurice’s pork and my fine slab of salmon adorned with a perfect roasted red pepper.  With a little help from Google Translate, I learned some new words and asked in my best Spanish if we could sit inside for our dessert, and it was so granted.