Firstly, we knew nothing about the earthquake in south-east Spain until word came via email from Cork this morning, Thursday. We are well and now in France.

Leaving Pamplona after breakfast we went off to travel on little roads through the hills towards Jaca. Beautiful countryside, green and in the beginning flat. Further on the villages are perched on rolling hills, not as high but like they were in the Pyrenees.

(Newer part of Pamplona)

(Farmland outside Pamplona)

 

We began at 17 degrees and by the time we came to Jaca, it had gone up to 26. I was back to sweltering and wished for some cool air. I didn’t have long to wait.

(Castle in the middle of nowhere)

(We’re climbing again)

(Road out of Jaca)

We decided to leave Spain by the pass that the French pilgrims would have taken to start their Camino to Santiago. There’s a huge tunnel now going through the mountain for the cars and trucks and bikes, but we didn’t go through the mountain we went over the mountain.

(Can you see the low clouds?)

As we started to climb into the Pyrenees Denis was watching the temperature, it was 23 degrees. But as we got closer to the low cloud it came down to 12. He promised if it came near 2 we’d take the tunnel. It didn’t, but it was hard to tell as he couldn’t see the dials with the fog!

(Little tunnel before the big one)

(Here we are on the French border – beautiful views, seemingly…)

Then we came down the other side and it was cold and raining, but we could see.

(We’re back in France)

It’s amazing to consider all the different types of weather, countryside, altitude and temperature that we have travelled in , over the past five hours. Change is a constant in the natural world, why do we find it so difficult?

Tonight we’re staying at a Chambre d’Hote. It’s very pretty and peaceful…. I’m looking forward to sleep….. and of course dinner, table d’Hote.

Night, night, bonne nuit, Mairead.

 

 

 

We spent last night at a Casa Rural (Spanish B & B in the country) with our host Rosa. She was a great character. She didn’t speak a word of English, well.. she did say goodbye this morning. I think she told us she went to Ireland once, but she might have just been saying she saw it on TV? Anyway, she was delighted that we were making an effort with the language, really, she was. And that encouraged me to keep giving it a go. She talked in Spanish, I looked confused and no problem she’d repeat it and do some kind of mime. By this morning I understood when she asked where we were going next and gave a good attempt at telling her. The Casa is in the countryside about forty-five minutes from San Sebastian, where the north coast of Spain meets the west coast of France. We continued to be surprised by how very different the areas we stay in “feel”. This area “feels” peaceful and fresh and light. Probably because of the rolling hills, the big trees, all the greenery and the very many birds. And lovely Rosa.

 

She prepared a wonderful meal for us and we took lots of pictures of it as soon as she left!

(The first course – Ensalade (salad) with fish and olives – yum yum)

(Second course – fish in a red pepper sauce, I love fish in Spain)

Today we moved on to Pamplona, where they “run with the bulls”. I haven’t seen any though, thankfully, as I’m afraid of cows, which would make me petrified of bulls. As we’re moving on to Jaca tomorrow, today is the only day to see the city. So I headed off as soon as I had changed into something cool. Cool, as in hot day, not cool dude! The weather has changed again and now I’m sweltering in the heat – 30 degrees today.

(We stopped in San Sebastian for water and atmosphere on our way to Pamplona)

The instructions from the receptionist mentioned some lift I could take, wondered what that might be…. Didn’t have to wonder long. After a ten minute walk I could see a wall with houses on top – Pamplona, the old city, on top of it’s walls. And I wasn’t going to have to walk up some (lots of..) steps, I could get the lift!

(If you look closely, in the bottom left corner of the picture, you can see a few people queuing to get into the lifts)

There are two lifts, that go up a very steep incline through a tunnel in the walls of the city. And you come out in Pamplona’s old streets.

The streets are narrow and mainly at right angles to each other, which should make finding your way a doddle…

 

(More arches, this time, to keep you cool)

I got lost!

(Notice the balconies, very useful during the bull running)

But one thing about Spain, there’s lots of seats, in shady spots. So I sat down and looked at the map again. While I was there, I noticed a couple looking in my direction. She began to smile and you know that look? You know… the one where you think you recognise the person but your’e not sure? She had that look! Or so I thought. It was actually a “she’s got a map, maybe she could tell us where to go” look. And I did, in French! They were French, could speak Spanish but not English and wanted to go to the Tourist Office. So I pointed them (through the medium of French, yes!) in what I thought was the right direction. And then discreetly followed them because that’s where I was going too.

They lost me but I found it on my own anyway.

We’re off to France tomorrow, via Jaca.

Mejores deseos (Best Wishes), Mairead.

(This is where we are)

We arrived in Gijon yesterday afternoon in bright sunshine. Gijon is a large town or it might even be a small city, by the sea with a beach, maybe two. Our hotel is close to one beach and about a fifteen minute walk to the old center. But we never made it there! We were both very tired after the journey from Santiago de Compostela.

When we arrived here at about 3pm we both contemplated going to sleep, but we’ve been reading the book Do the Work by Steven Pressfield (He wrote The War of Art, about being creative) so our battle cry at times of tiredness on this trip has been “Do the Work”. It means, get the work done first…. then rest or play.

(Green Sea)

So I wrote my blog and Denis did his Pomodoros. That’s another thing he got from a book. Pomodoros are a way of working in efficient chunks. The original idea came from a guy called Francesco Cirillo and he used a tomato timer to assist him – pompdoro is the Italian word for tomato. Anyway, the way it works is, you work for twenty five minutes, then you take a break for five minutes, then you get back to work for twenty five minutes and so on throughout your working day (there’s a longer fifteen minute break after you’ve done four pomodoros). There is a science behind it – I don’t know what it is! But Denis liked it so much he wrote an app for it! And he uses that app to work efficiently. So every twenty five minutes I hear the timer go off and he gets up to walk around or talk to me or whatever, then another timer goes off after the five minutes break and he’s back to his desk again! Strange but true!

(Natural Harbour)

So by 9pm (the normal start time for dinner around here) we were ready to fall asleep or eat some dinner. So we needed to walk. We set off in the general direction of the old town. It’s a very pleasant walk along by a marina with a few cafes and lots of yachts. There’s also a cycle path, which the Gigoner’s take very seriously. We were wandering along when we heard some shouting from behind then the whoosh of air as a bike sped past us. He was probably saying “Get off the cycle path, please” but we’ll never know, I stayed well clear of the bike paths after that.

 

After about ten minutes we got tired again and sat outside the nearest restaurant. The friendly waitress suggested (by hand signals) that we might like to sit under the heater and we were delighted to. We said the magic word, which sounds like “come air” and she brought us some menus. Oops, we hadn’t checked the prices here before we sat down. Even though it was in English the menu was hard to read because the prices were so high – kind of startles the eyes into temporary blindness…

 

(Our beers)

So picture us, eyes popping out of our heads and then we spot the lovely waitress coming towards us with the paper table cloth. We have found this to mean “dinner will be served here”, so I had to stop her. Denis was very quiet, but I was going “No, no”, nice and gentle, but insistent enough, while pointing at the table cloth. And Denis pipes up “dos cervezas, por favor” . Good man, distract her, don’t worry that I don’t drink beer. She does look a little deflated but she rallies, and in time two (very nice, I must say) beers arrive. In a few more minutes two little pieces of bread with something yummy on top arrive. Oh dear, she hasn’t given up hope.

(Our bread and yummy topping)

The beer on empty stomachs and tired bodies did it’s job and we were filled with enough courage to leave, not before paying of course. And the lovely waitress came to wave us off. On the way home, Denis spotted something we never thought we’d see in Spain – an “all you can eat” Chinese buffet. And since we hadn’t had dinner yet…… Yes, we did. We went in. The very friendly waiter (who went off to ask someone how to say “drinks” in English) taught us the rules. You pick your vegetables and meat or fish and then bring it up to the chef who cooks it in a wok. And you can keep doing that all night if you want! Every time he passed the waiter encouraged us to go up and get more. We didn’t…. but we had loads and really enjoyed the experience.

(The place mat is also the menu… and it’s in English as well as Spanish)

You know, at the risk of repeating myself it’s always the people we meet and the connection we make with them (however minuscule) that makes our time here so much fun. Their outreach to us has an impact. And unless we are very odd (…hadn’t really considered that yet….) I’m guessing that might be true for others too. So…. I was thinking again…. we have it in our power all the time to make connections by smiling, nodding, speaking – even one word, to another human being. Now I’m not talking about inviting anyone home, or giving them your credit card number, just a little nod in their general direction. Like you mean “I see you, you matter”.

 

Tener un buen día (Have a good day), Mairead.

(Map with handwritten notes from our lovely, lovely receptionist)

This morning we left Santiago de Compostela, and the sun shone for the first time since we arrived. Although we have great rain gear on the bike, we can’t wear it  window shopping or going out for dinner (they stare at us if we walk around in our helmets). So we got wet, a lot, in the last two days.

(Old gate in the original walls of the city)

Santiago is a very, very old city. The story goes, it all started in 40 AD when the body of James, one of the apostles, was brought here after he had been beheaded in Jerusalem. It was a long and arduous journey by land and sea and up the river to the place where Santiago de Compostela is today. Years later, around 800 AD, a hermit told the local bishop that he’d seen a field of stars (Compostela….) and that he believed it pointed to the burial place of St. James. I think together they found the bones. Anyway, word spread to King Alphonse (the second, I think) who lived in Oviedo. Now at the time he was having a few problems with the Moors and word of the stars was the last thing he needed. But he set off on the long journey to Santiago to see the bones. (We, ourselves took the same journey last Saturday. Well, when I say the “same”, I mean we left one city and arrived over time in the other. There are a few extra motorways and roads on stilts since Alphonse’s time and we had the benefit of an internal combustion engine, but we were very tired and wet all the same.) And he was the first one to do the Camino. He provided the money to build the cathedral for the pilgrims who would follow his footsteps. There is a place underneath the altar where they put the saints bones.

 

(Wall where I left the camera for a moment and it took a picture…)

As always I went along to the tourist office to get some brochures in English. As I was waiting I noticed a huge map on the wall, called The Ways of the Camino. It shows the many ways to Santiago. And it’s a bit like “all roads lead to..”, Santiago de Compostela. SO after I got a brochure about the Camino, I asked about the big map and way down the back there was a basket of them and the nice lady gave me one – free! It’s a bit big……

(More arches – handy for the rain)

So then I was thinking…. about journeys people take. And it seems that the Camino is a kind of a metaphor for the life journeys. There was the King – Alphonse, up to his neck in problems and yet he follows his heart to Santiago. It wasn’t a good time for him to follow his heart…. but he did.

 

Then there’s really no “good” time to follow your heart. Because…… You’ll never have the time. You’ll never have the money. You’ll never have the information. You’ll never have the necessary credentials. You’ll never have the courage. You’ll never have the freedom ……

Well, you won’t…. unless you DO follow your heart! And I bet it was the same for Alphonse, and look at him now, in all the books and statues all over the place.

(Higgley Piggley streets)

You only ever need “just enough”. Just enough time, just enough money, just enough information, just enough credentials, just enough courage, just enough freedom.

Have you got “just” enough? Imagine for a moment – you have just enough of what you need to follow your heart…… What would it take for you to make the shift, (the internal earthquake of your belief system) to believing you can follow your heart……. Imagine, you believing such a thing……. and all was well….. and all remains well…..

There might even be a statue in it for you!

 

Be well, Buenas Noches, Buenas Dias, Mairead.

 

 

 

It is Sunday and we have spent the night in Santiago de Compostela, like many, many travellers before us. Right now I’m siting on the bed listening to birdsong, our hotel is on the edge of a park. Out through my window I can see an old building  – a church or a convent or maybe a monastery. Because there are so many old buildings here, only the oldest get a mention on the map. (This is another shift, I’m noticing – old is more appreciated than new.)

After a hearty breakfast this morning I went off to visit the Cathedral. The old part of town is a warren of small streets but all of them seem to lead to the cathedral so I was there in no time. I didn’t realise it but I was at the side entrance, impressive, but I found even more impressive entrances, later. The place I entered was through the shop, with books and maps and souvenirs. When I got into the cathedral itself there was a real buzz. I sat down to get a feel for the place…..

There are couples smiling and taking pictures, bustlingly along. There is a group of about twenty men and women pointing and chatting loudly as they follow their guide to the main attractions. There is a man in his sixties, strong, tall man wearing a bright yellow fleece. When he caught my eye, just now, he was walking from a side aisle with a determined gait towards a bench in the centre of the cathedral. His seat has a good view of the altar, mass will begin in about forty-five minutes. He isn’t carrying a rucksack but around his neck he wears a shell suspended from a piece of red string. The sign that he is on the Camino to Santiago. Maybe he arrived last night in the rain and left his things at the hostel. There is a woman, she had a stick, but from the way her helper guides her into her seat it seems to me her journey has been different, she may have come for healing.

There is a man with a bright yellow umbrella too, and he seems to be leading a group, getting their attention by waving the umbrella and pointing it at something noteworthy. Now he is pointing to a stone plaque of a cross with the Alpha and Omega sign. I first saw this cross in the Holy Chamber of Ovieda cathedral. After a day there I realised it was everywhere, even on the sides of the buses.

 

But there is one man who is walking slowly, searching. He is wearing his rucksack with a rain cover and he has a stick in his right hand. I can’t see his shell but the way he walks and his heavy load he doesn’t need a sign to show he is on the Camino journey. I get up and follow him. He walks round the corner by a huge stone column and into the main part of the cathedral. He’s not taking pictures, I can’t see a camera. But he is looking for something. He stops, balances on his stick, then looks all around. I find a seat and sit down to watch him.

 

He passes something I hadn’t noticed until now, confession boxes. Not boxes as such, only the priest has a space inside. There is a window out to the front. Now I see these are lined both sides of the main transept in side walking aisles. I think there are about twenty. I can see two or three with priests inside at the window. If there is no one with them the light is on, when someone kneels down at the window the light goes off. Confession begins. I am reminded of a taxi for hire light and maybe there are similarities. The confessor wants to leave their sins behind and the priest provides the transport. He can only take one person at a time. The cost is the penance he gives the freed person. The priest as taxi driver, listening, directing, showing the way, giving his view on the world, delivering from sins.

 

While I am watching a man and woman approach the lighted priest. He seems to sense they are coming to him, although I don’t know how as it is noisy here. They don’t seem able to decide who will go first, the man hesitates, almost takes a step forward and then turns back to his companion. Very gently he opens his hands, tilts his head, very slightly. She takes her cue and moves forward. The priest  definitely knows they are on their way, he must see the signs every day. He looks up, the woman says something, the priest opens a side window. I hadn’t noticed before, but as well as the window the priest looks out there are two other windows to his right and left sides. They probably afford a little more privacy, maybe he guesses this woman needs it, maybe she told him. Very soon the woman is finished and the man kneels at the front window, she waits at a side chapel. The man’s head is bent and shaking, the priest holds his elbow. This feels like compassion. I look away.

By now I’ve almost forgotten about the slow walking searcher, when I look for him, I see he’s leaving by a door at the back. There are a group gathered by this door and I wonder did he find what he was searching for here. I get up to check. Down by the door there are stone columns with religious carvings on them. On the lower half, about four feet from the ground, the carvings are a lighter colour and are somewhat worn away. Many hands have touched this place. It is now protected by a fence of steel poles, they may have excluded the searcher. I hope not……

It’s time for me to leave.

Be well, Mairead.

 

(On the right, Denis’ new favourite meal – Spanish blue cheese with caramelised onions on bread)

We have arrived in Santiago (St. James) de Compostela (Field of Stars). We have travelled about 3,500km to get here. I’m a bit tired… Well, that’s altogether from Greystones, today we did about 350km! But I am tired.

Before we left Oviedo we went to find San Miguel de Lillo. You remember the church on the poster in the hotel at the Picos? And Maria-Jose took the frame apart to discover where it was? So the tourist map wasn’t too clear and we got lost and had to ask someone. Remember all the difficulties associated with asking for directions in a language you’re not familiar with? So I was not too well disposed to be the one to ask this time. So Denis had to… he “asked” (well, showed the map) a lovely man and his wife walking along the footpath, they had no English but loads of compassion. They said (roughly translated, you understand) “It is too complicated. Wait here, we will get the car and you can follow us out to the road on your bike.” So we did. And it WAS complicated, but with their help we found the right road. We shook his hand, “adios”, and set off with big smiles again!

Disaster! San Miguel de Lillo was getting a face lift! It was covered in plastic and scaffolding and although I took pictures, it doesn’t look its best. Oh, well, at least we met the nice man and his wife.

(Denis jumped over the “keep out” plastic rope in order to be near the door for this picture. I did not. They say opposites attract.)

And it’s been our day for meeting lovely people. We stopped at a petrol station after an hour to fill the bike and have some cafe con leche. And the nicest petrol station man was there. He smiled when he saw us, even though he was busy getting a delivery of petrol from a big tanker at the same time. He filled our bike with petrol, all the time humming to himself. He popped in and out to the tanker while we sat alone drinking our coffee machine cafe beside the cash register, in his shop. At the end we had made a big mess on the table and I was attempting to say I’d clean it up and he said “No, no”, and shooed us off on our way, still smiling at us.

 

(View of Oviedo from the San Miguel de Lillo hill)

About four hours later we arrived at our home for tonight, a hotel near the old quarter of Santiago de Compostela. And were met at the door, (she came out to see us!) by a wonderful receptionist. She speaks perfect English and before Denis had put our passports back in his pocket, she was marking the map with the route to the cathedral and best restaurants, making sure to point out the ones that open on Sunday, she even marked the expensive restaurants so we could avoid them! She went on to tell us about the breakfast (long list of yummy stuff) that could be had for €5.35 and that she was sorry but we would have to book tonight if we wanted it. Of course we did! If we had designed the perfect welcome that would have been it!

(Brings back memories of the road on stilts near Nice, but fortunately this one wasn’t open yet)

(The light blue bit under the horizon and above the bridge is the sea – it was lovely as we passed, hard to see now…..)

So, please remember when someone asks you for directions, or when you see someone coming into your petrol station or hotel (or line of vision), you have in your possession the opportunity to make their day. Go on, do it!

 

From the field of stars at the end of the earth, I bid you a good day, Mairead.

(Monument to Big Posteriors)

I went shopping in Oviedo, today. There’s a big department store, like Arnotts or Debenhams, near our hotel. I headed off after breakfast. As there’s no room to fit anything in my bag (or Denis’, I’ve checked) it’s unlikely I was going to buy anything….. but you never know. I wandered around the ladies department but those clothes were for old ladies. So I went up to the younger ladies (!) department. And I spotted some very cute tops and dresses and jeans by a Spanish company I’d never heard of, it started with a D? Anyway, I decided to try on some, wasn’t sure of the sizes so took a medium and a large of each one and headed off to the changing room.

(Big Barrel)

It was a great big room with loads of mirrors, perfect for seeing all angles. It even had a lock…. maybe I was in the store room? Anyway, I tried on the first top but I couldn’t get it over my head, must be a fault. Never mind, I had the large size, so I tried that. I probably shouldn’t have been so determined but I was… and I got it on. Seeing all the angles wasn’t such an asset now.

(Big Pot)

It must have been… “faulty” too and I wasn’t sure how I was going to get it off. There was a moment when I considered life, the universe and everything…… but then I held my breath and wriggled out of it. I had four more beautiful tops to try but none of them was extra large, and there was every possibility extra large would have been “faulty” too! Turns out Spanish people are smaller than the Irish.

So that got me thinking…… What’s the big deal with sizes? My size, your size, any size?

(Big Poster)

I love Gok Wan. It’s ok, Denis knows and he’s fine with it. For those of you who don’t watch as much TV as you obviously should, I’ll tell you about him. He was a very unhappy teenager and he was overweight, but he lost the weight and got interested in fashion and now he has a programme on TV called “How to Look Good Naked”.  I get a warm feeling every time I watch it. So, at the start of the programme we meet a woman (I think there’s been men too) who hates her body and thinks she’s too fat. There’s lots of tears as Gok gets her to strip off to her underwear to find out exactly what she hates. Then he hugs her.

(Big Church)

The next bit of the program is the turning point. Gok has four or five women (who are fine with their size/shape) in their underwear standing in a row. They are standing in order of size of whatever bit the original woman hates about herself. For example, if she hates her tummy, the women are lined up left to right from smallest to largest tummy.

(Another Big Posterior)

Then, (this is the magic bit), Gok asks the original woman to put herself into the lineup according to her size. And…. always, always she gets it wrong! The woman always thinks she’s bigger than she is.

Gok puts her in the correct position and she’s stunned. Something shifts in her when she realises her thinking about herself has been wrong all along. (Now the programme doesn’t stop there. Gok knows how to pick clothes that will look good no matter what shape or size the person is, so he goes shopping with her and teaches her how to shop for her body. Because each of us have a particular shape and size that’s our body, it’s ours and it needs to be honoured. Yes, Honoured, Honour your Body!)

(Big Woman Statue)

But back to the shift. A shift is like an earthquake on the inside. We’re muddling along with our lives and something happens and….. the earth of our belief system breaks apart. So, here I am, on my way out of the (really good) big changing room and it occurs to me. The clothes in my arms at the moment have a label on them, not me……

 

It’s the clothes that have the problem with size!

(Big Bread)

 

So I handed them back to the assistant saying “Poco, Poco” (Small, Small), meaning “Those poor clothes are too small.”

 

Honour your Body!  Mairead

 

PS Back to road pictures tomorrow, we’re off to Santiago de Compostela!

(View from the bed)

We’re here in the centre of the city of Oviedo. This morning I went off in search of the wall murals church. On the map it seemed to be beside the motorway, on the edge of town and I wondered if I might need a taxi. Denis assured me that it could only take twenty minutes to walk and wasn’t it a lovely day (he was staying in the hotel to work!). I wasn’t completely sure but with the map marked showing the most likely route off I went.

(San Julián de Los Prados)

That moment, when I go off on my own in a new place, is for me like being on those narrow winding Picos roads. Exhilarating and scary. Where am I going? What if I get lost? What if something dangerous happens? What if it’s impossible to find? What if it’s closed? What if it’s open but they won’t let me in? What if they won’t let me out? Ok I’m making up some of those but you get the idea.

(San Julián de Los Prados – window)

And it’s not just about going somewhere new on my own. It’s about starting anything new. What if I can’t do it? What if it’s dangerous? What if it’s great and I have to give up everything else to do it? Scary stuff!

 

(Cloister of monastery near Cathedral)

So right after the fears come the excuses. So this morning there came a moment when I realised I was considering going to the Cathedral, which I’m not interested in, just because it was nearer and I knew how to get there…. But I didn’t do it! I went off to see the frescos in San Julián de Los Prados.

I shouldn’t have bothered.

 

(San Julián de Los Prados – wall outside)

Well, that’s probably a bit unfair. Maybe I’m a bit grumpy because the paintings were not what I was expecting. They were nothing like the ones in Jaca… and the guide woman wasn’t very friendly, so I couldn’t “ask” any questions about the mystery of the wall murals. Well, actually I did but she got a bit cross, she thought I wanted to take pictures. Perish the thought, earlier she had shouted “No foto” at an elderly man who hadn’t noticed the many signs. Of course since the frescos are so different, there’s probably no mystery. Anyway I bought a book from the guide woman. It’s in Spanish. Not really sure yet how that’s going to help. And what will I have to dump from Denis’ bag to fit it in?

 

(Heart Biscuit – yummy)

To cheer me up Denis took me for a green tea when I got back. We went to the Colonial Cafe where they had lots of different teas. At home, I drink my green tea from a huge mug so the little cups here haven’t been enough. So when I noticed on the menu that there were two sizes and prices for the green tea I pointed to the bigger one and asked for “mesa”, when the waiter arrived. The look on his face was priceless, a cross between “you have insulted my dead mother with your words” and “what the..?”. I had no idea what I’d said and he seemed speechless. After a few moments of him looking up to the sky and around at the other tables and pointing to himself, I said “Quiero te verde, por favor” (I want green tea, please) and he was fine again. When he left we searched the dictionary to work out what had happened.

You remember I said there were two sizes and prices for the green tea? That’s not what they were….. One, was the price if you ordered at the bar and the other was for the waiter service… This Spanish is tricky.

 

Felicidad (Good luck), Mairead.

 

 

We left our home in the Picos this morning and what a leaving!

(Stop Press – The cows have bells too!)

 

But first I need to tell you about the possibility of missing the odd day’s mail – heaven forbid! Yesterday, my internet connection was down all day. It worked just long enough to post. So although internet connections have been very good so far, just a warning: If the mail doesn’t arrive one morning, please do not fear that we have been eaten by bears (there are bears in The Picos!). Or that we are lost on a mountain. Or that I have moved into a monastery for some alone time. It is just technology, useful but not always reliable.

(Our village for two nights)

Anyway the leaving. We packed up and went downstairs to check out. Our host and all her staff have been so helpful and kind to us even though they have no English and our little Spanish doesn’t work. There was a photograph on the landing on the way to our room of a very old church and I “asked” where it was located. Well, our host called for Maria-Jose but neither knew where it was or what it was called. But like the bar man the previous night, that didn’t stop them. Maria-Jose (remember when you think of her name the J is pronounced H and the se is stressed) takes the frame down from the wall to look for the name on the back. No name on the back. But she is a tenacious woman. She starts to take the back off the frame! Meanwhile they are both talking ten to the dozen in Spanish and I’m saying “No, no, oh no,no” and they begin to laugh at me. The result? On the back of the poster, now out of the frame on the floor, there is the name San Miguel de Lillo. Both of the woman look at each other, one points one way, the other disagrees and points the other way. They don’t know where San Miguel de Lillo is. “Ok, no problemo” I say, “the internet”, I write the name down and make lots of hand gestures to indicate I will type it into the internet. As they put the frame back together I’m backing away downstairs.

(The roof tiles – some upside down and some right way up)

So this morning as we’re leaving, Maria-Jose and our host are saying “San Miguel de Lillo?”, and I’m trying to indicate that I couldn’t look for it because…. the internet wasn’t working, but that I will send them an email when I find it. They look a little crest fallen (I thought) but smile anyway. We pay our bill and are saying our mucho gracias and picking up our worldly goods when both Maria-Jose and our host say “Un momento!” Denis looks at me, but I haven’t a clue, so we wait.

(These sheep were all on their own walking along the road)

And back arrives the two of them smiling with a bag of gifts for us! Hats and a little flashlight, a shopping bag and a folding mirror! Well… gracias wasn’t enough for me after that… I was around the counter hugging and kissing (on both cheeks). We both left La Ercina with happy thoughts and big smiles.

(A little chapel in a cave in the Picos)

And one more thing…. we arrived in Oviedo late this afternoon. I found brochures in English for the church with the frescos and was reading about it back in the hotel. I also got a map of the area. And guess what church is 3 km from town? Yes! It’s San Miguel de Lillo. Isn’t that interesting……? Wonder what I’ll find there…..? I was so delighted I composed an email to Maria-Jose and our host… in Spanish. Denis said to use Google Translate, but I don’t trust it, so I used my dictionary….. Sometime when I want to give the Spanish speakers (readers?) among you a laugh I will send you a copy of it, in the meantime I hope they can understand my good wishes and great excitement.

 

Saludos (Best Wishes), Mairead.