Introducing the Beloved Friends I Was Dreading to Be With

In an earlier posting, I expressed my love and appreciation for the friends I was leaving behind in San Francisco, but now I'd like to introduce two sets of friends I love and appreciate at a distance, through letters and, in the case of Jutta, throught a shared diary.  (We're now on Volume 3.)

Annie and Rosa are part of a small group of long-distance friends I call the Anminroti

Annie is from France.
Minako is from Japan.
Nicole is from San Francisco
Rosa is from Spain
and the ti stands for Tina.

I already knew Nicole from City College of San Francisco, where we taught from 1982 to 2014, when we both retired.  (We got our full-time jobs and our tenure the same year too!)

I met Annie in 2001 through Jean, a French man I met and dated when I lived in Algeria 1974-76.  He introduced us through letters he wrote both to Annie, who was living in San Francisco at the time, and to me.  Then through Annie, I met Minako and Rosa, who were classmates at City College, where they were all taking Nicole's Current Events class.

After all of them had moved back to their native countries, we corresponded through e-mail as a group.  Then in 2003 Annie hosted us all when she and her husband Jean-Paul were celebrating their fiftieth birthdays.  Before the rest of the Anminroti arrived in Brittany, I spent a week with Annie and her family in Andresy, outside of Paris, where Jutta (whom I'll introduce soon) joined us.

Rosa hosted Annie, Minako, and me in 2014 in Sant Cugat del Valles.

Both Annie and Rosa were extraordinary hosts, creating memories that would last a lifetime even if our lifetimes were not closer to the end than to the beginning!

Jutta, who joined Annie and me, was my penpal back in 1963, and I still have all her letters--so beautifully hand-written and often illustrated.

We met for the first time in 1997, when she, her husband, and their three almost-adult children came to San Francisco on what they thought would be their final trip as a family.

My meque (mejor que un esposo--better than a husband) Javier and I stayed in Bremen, Germany with Jutta and her husband for a week in 2011,and in 2014  Jutta and I also took a trip to Switzerland together to meet our favorite Swiss writer, whom she's met at book readings in Germany.

She and I have shared a diary--with  hand-written entries--since 2001.  We have "emissaries" bring it back and forth, and we are now on volume 3.  Nicole, at a music festival in Mali in 2010, got the diary from Jutta, who was in Mali working with teachers.  I used their photo on one of the cakes at my 70th birthday celebration!  Jutta, my penpal form 1963, and Nicole, a member of the Anminroti, had met!

So why was I dreading to be with these beloved friends?

Introducing the Beloved Friends I Was Dreading to Be With

In an earlier posting, I expressed my love and appreciation for the friends I was leaving behind in San Francisco, but now I'd like to introduce two sets of friends I love and appreciate at a distance, through letters and, in the case of Jutta, throughta shared diary.  (We're now on Volume 3.)

Annie and Rosa are part of a small group of long-distance friends I call the Anminroti

Annie is from France.
Minako is from Japan.
Nicole is from San Francisco
Rosa is from Spain
and the ti stands for Tina.

I already knew Nicole from City College of San Francisco, where we taught from 1982 to 2014, when we both retired.  (We got our full-time jobs and our tenure the same year too!)

I met Annie in 2001 through Jean, a French man I met and dated when I lived in Algeria 1974-76.  He introduced us through letters he wrote both to Annie, who was living in San Francisco at the time, and to me.  Then through Annie, I met Minako and Rosa, who were classmates at City College, where they were all taking Nicole's Current Events class.

After all of them had moved back to their native countries, we corresponded through e-mail as a group.  Then in 2003 Annie hosted us all when she and her husband Jean-Paul were celebrating their fiftieth birthdays.  Before the rest of the Anminroti arrived in Brittany, I spent a week with Annie and her family in Andresy, outside of Paris, where Jutta (whom I'll introduce soon) joined us.

Rosa hosted Annie, Minako, and me in 2015 in Sant Cugat del Valles just outside of Barcelona.

Both Annie and Rosa were extraordinary hosts, creating memories that would last a lifetime even if our lifetimes were not closer to the end than to the beginning!

Jutta, who joined Annie and me, was my penpal back in 1963, and I still have all her letters--so beautifully hand-written and often illustrated.

We met for the first time in 1997, when she, her husband, and their three almost-adult children came to San Francisco on what they thought would be their final trip as a family.

My meque (mejor que un esposo--better than a husband) Javier and I stayed in Bremen, Germany with Jutta and her husband for a week in 2011,and in 2014  Jutta and I also took a trip to Switzerland together to meet our favorite Swiss writer, whom she's met at book readings in Germany.

She and I have shared a diary--with  hand-written entries--since 2001.  We have "emissaries" bring it back and forth, and we are now on volume 3.  Nicole, at a music festival in Mali in 2010, got the diary from Jutta, who was in Mali working with teachers.  I used their photo on one of the cakes at my 70th birthday celebration!  Jutta, my penpal form 1963, and Nicole, a member of the Anminroti, had met!

So why was I dreading to be with these beloved friends?

Friends on the Post-Camino Trail--Madrid & Paris

As much as I love Annie, Rosa, and Jutta, I had a feeling of dread before the trip.  They're multi-lingual, and even though I speak French and Spanish as well as English  (I mean in addition to!),  I speak French and Spanish in a way that could annoy the French and Spanish, AND before meeting them I was writing messages in English like this in  an e-letter with the subject "Coming Out of the Cupboard:  I'm Vegan."

As for what I'd like to do, seeing you two is my number one "objective" since I went back to my former (1972) homes in Madrid last September.  But I do want to try all the vegan restaurants in Madrid that I can find, and I will understand if you two don't always go along. 

Yesterday I had a vegan potluck.  I didn't provide name cards saying, "Hello.  My name is Vegan Freak," but I know that's the perception of many non-vegans, so I'm going to be as polite but as assertive as I can be.  I'll be happy to go to non-vegan restaurants, too, but I don't want you two to suffer because of my being a "veganist."

One of my vegan friends thanked us all for the potluck saying that she was so happy to be at a gathering where she didn't have to ask "Is there meat in it?" about each dish.  Now it's "Is there meat or dairy?"  and  I know this can mean  culture-shock for some people.  The vegan authors of Vegan Freak:  Being Vegan in a Non-Vegan World Jenna and Bob Torres suggest that non-vegans think of vegans as some kind of exotic tribe found deep in the Amazonian jungle who haven't yet discovered fire or the number zero.  

I now have a Vegan Passport, but it's a little bit unrealistic.  For example, it explains the concept of vegan (in lots of different languages including Hausa, Igbo, Xhosa and Zulu)  and suggests that we ask the servers to read the page!  Servers are very busy people!  Also, it has a page showing what we vegans can eat so we can just point, but I'm afraid that if I pointed to a head of lettuce, they'd bring me the whole head on a plate!

To my surprise,  the response of Rosa, who had posed the question, "What would you like to do in Madrid?" was, "I'm bringing a list of all the vegetarian restaurants,"  She did!  Instead of rolling their eyes in exasperation, these wonderful friends joined me on my continuing pilgrimage to find good vegan meals! Here Rosa, Annie, and I are at Vivaburgers the night of our arrival in Madrid.

How to Dress for the Camino as Shown by The Pilgrim Virgin Mary

The Pilgrim Virgin Mary!

Michener's 1968 book Iberia (with it's final chapter on Santiago de Compostela) is one of the three books I've read with the greatest interest during three stages of the Camino--anticipation, the moment, and reflection.  (The other two are Grandma's on the Camino by Mary O'Hara Wyman and The Art of Pilgrimage by Phil Cousineau.)

Thanks to Michener, this image has become a part of my experience even though  we never saw it or the town it's in on our walk from Cebreiro to Santiago.

It represents a myth and a way of dressing for the Camino!

Apparently, seeing that the virgin Mary wasn't enough of an icon on the Camino, the little town of Pontevedra took action.  Michener writes that, "a new cult grew up around a legend claiming that the Virgin Mary had been the first pilgrim to the tomb of Santiago, who had given his life for her son. "

In 1978 a gingerbread sanctuary was built in the form of a combined cross and scallop shell, housing this statue.  (I can't find this; the picture of the statue only says that it's inside a baroque church in Pontevedra.)  This is what Michener writes:

"It was the Pilgrim Virgin, representing her as a primly dressed eighteenth-century taveling lady in stiff German brocade, a comfortable shawl  with tassels, long black Restoration curls, bejeweled staff and gourd, and a positively enchanting Jesus dressed like a child's doll.  Atop the Virgin's head stood a jaunty cockaded hat festooned with cockleshells."
'

The Botafumeiro and Sailors' Knots

I feel duty-bound to report on the Botafumeiro--almost the culmination of our walk of 110 miles from Cebreiro on the  Camino to Santiago de Compostela.  (I say almost because we had a wonderful meal afterwards at a Parador just around the corner, and then we met Camino friends!)

Here's the shot I took (not during mass).  The Botafumeiro looks a little bit like my samovar, but it's filled with incense and swings, which my samovar does not!   The swinging may fumigate us pilgrims.

There have been accidents.  In 1499 Catherine of Aragon was at a service when it swang/swung (?) out of the window.  But there were no mishaps for us, and I read just today that the ropes are secured with sailor knots--better than my shoe laces!

I don't want to sound too glib.  I'm really glad I took this walk.  I love Spain, and I love to walk.

But I didn't really want to hug St. James even though I once went to an Episcopal Church that bore his name and I wish him well--but maybe not for the deeds this "Matamoros" was "seen" doing during the crusades, when he was slaying Moors.

 I think I'm more inclined towards a pilgrimage a group of pilgrims have made retracing the route of the First Crusade,  asking for forgiveness from the Jews and Muslims and Eastern Christians.

http://www.religioustolerance.org/chr_cru1.htm

I will soon move on to my plate-to-plate pilgrimage.

The Camino de Santiago de Compostela

Here are the pictures in case you want to read no further.
    
https://www.dropbox.com/sc/ovrdg0w70zyj7gp/AADxszREKIzc95otKg-t9_vRa

First, there is beauty, yes, and I'm not yawning.  The world, as you may have noticed, is a very beautiful place, and the Camino gives you a lot of time with it.  So on the Camino we walked with beauty--rustic, old, natural--starting with the sky in Cebreiro, pictured and the first steps we took on road from Cebreiro.

We also saw the famous scallop shells leading the way to Santiago de Compostela, although if you click on the photo showing a closeup of those shells at our starting point, Cebreiro, you'll see that they lead right into the gift shop!

Notice, too, that once you leave town (see the Cebreiro sign), the town ceases to exist, disappearing less romantically than Brigadoon.

The paths are lovely, and the REI poles (once the pilgrim's staff) can be used not only to take weight off knees and feet but to reach the blackberries that grow along the path, as Bill is illustrating here.

You can see, too, that Jesus was my roommate at one place of shelter, at Casa David in Triacastela.  Are those the keys to the Kingdom I'm holding in my hand?

I regret that I am the one you see in rain gear.  I didn't have my camera for four days  and missed what would have been incredible photos of people in black garbage bags over what looked like grand pianos.  Other people looked so elaborately mounted that they resembled floats in Macy's big parade (or pasos during Semana Santa?) --engineering and architectural feats.  I saw a man in what looked like fluffy blue bedroom slippers, but of course they turned out to be blue cellophane over his shoes.  (So disappointing!)   Some people were covered with what looked like white table cloths--all ready for a picnic when the rain stopped.

I was almost never lost, but if I had been, I'd have been quickly identified as "The woman with the  funny hat."  And it was from REI, which I never thought had a sense of humor.  I think it's my tiny head that creates comedy even with REI merchandise.

I don't know why all those things were hanging from trees.

But I do know that one of the most memorable hours on the Camino was one in a laundry room at Hotel Villajardin in Portomarin while we were waiting for a dryer.  There was  Yasmin from Australia, a woman from Denmark, John Charles, an actor from New York, another John, who'd recently participated in a bicycle run to raise funds for cancer.  (His wife had died of pancreatic cancer eight years ago.) Fernando from Spain told us he was on the Camino with his teen-age son Alberto.

Bill and I later spotted Fernando with his son Alberto, who was wearing a Grease tee-shirt, something close to my heart because a close friend of mine was in the original cast of that musical. Alberto, Fernando, and I started to sing together from Grease and other musicals we knew.

We met again just before reaching Santiago, when I saw the signs on the pavement for the Walk to End Alzheimer's, something of special significance to me too because I walk that walk every year--usually in San Francisco--and I felt my last steps towards Santiago were in memory of my mother.

Then, once again, Bill and I were waiting in line for our certification, and John Charles The Actor wanted to know the Spanish words for "Tomorrow" from the musical Annie.  I spotted Fernando and Alberto in another part of the line and went over to ask Albert.

Mañana mañana te quiero mañana  Pues, eres un dia mas!


And mañana  I'll reflect on Santiago itself and that famous botafumeiro!

https://www.dropbox.com/sc/ovrdg0w70zyj7gp/AADxszREKIzc95otKg-t9_vRa

Pilgrims' People Back Home

Before I share pictures of the Camino from Cebreiro to Santiago and caminos from table to table and--best of all--from reunion to reunion, I want to express my gratitude to the friends back home.

 My trip was extraordinary because I was reunited with wonderful friends, but I also carried the warmth of the friends back in San Francisco.  I'm grateful that I can make a "pilgrimage" to friends just a few miles--or even a few blocks--away.

Tom made an extraordinary vegan paella for a pre-Camino dinner back in May.

Bill and Janet took walks in San Francisco with me.

Valerie and Leo, who'd walked the Camino before us with Chemin de France,  gave Bill and me each a copy of the book The Art of Pilgrimage, which I read every day before departure.

 I got socks and a beautiful card from Jana,  and Elma, who'd walked the Camino on the spur of the moment--walking 20 miles in San Francisco in one day to make sure she could and then carrying her own backpack and sleeping in Albergues, also gave me socks.  Just back from the Camino, a niece's wedding, and three months in France with her husband Alex, she even came over to help me pack!

The wonderful Chew and View group welcomed her and Alex back and toasted to my upcoming Camino.

To tell you the truth, I was so happy at home in San Francisco that I was looking forward to returning before I ever left.

Pre-Camino Spain

It may seem strange that I'm using my San Francisco Vistas blog spot for pre-Camino Spain, but it's all set up, and after all, I'm now looking at Spain from San Francisco, so here it goes!

When I thought of walking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela (called in English The Way of St. James), I thought of roughing it the way Mary O'Hara Wyman does in Grandma's on the Camino, a book I highly recommend.  I thought I'd be staying in the Albergues, which resemble places in San Francisco for getting the homeless off the streets or army barracks--bunk beds with  scores of people jammed together in a room.

 But I had a walking partner who had another vision of the Way of Saint James--the Way of Bill Shoaf--and I soon realized that the Way of Bill Shoaf suited me just fine!  We had private reserved rooms and our luggage was sent ahead from each hotel, which meant that we weren't carrying the equivalent of a grand piano on our backs.  We weren't, really, roughing it.  We were just walking, which is my favorite sport and the only one I'm at all good at, though I wasn't all that good.

I am also grateful to The Way of Bill Shoaf because my walking partner nixed my idea of arriving in northern Spain just in time for the Camino.  He said that would leave me with jet lag, so we allowed 10 days to get over jet lag, and in the process we stayed in Bilbao, San Sebastian,  Oviedo, and Leon (accent over the second syllable)--all beautiful places and ones I'd never seen before. 

Bill rented a car, which is something he's bravely done in several countries:  Switzerland, Portugal, the Netherlands, Denmark, Sweden, Germany, Austria, France, England, Belgium, Italy, Germany, Costa Rica, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Thailand! 

You may know that there is a pilgrim's certificate, sort of like a passport,  and when we soi-disant pilgrims pass through a tavern in a town, we get it stamped.

  I thought there should be a driver's passport, so Bill could get stamped by Avis in Spain, Hertz in Italy, or whatever.  Imagine having a passport that looks like this:

Of course you'd have to add the date and town.

 (In a later blog post I'll tell you about the passport I created for my own true pilgrimage.)

Bill quipped that his way of traveling was from Michelin-starred restaurant to Michelin-starred restaurant, so he was really interested in a comment a former boyfriend made back in the 1970's when he saw my collection of matchbooks and matchboxes from restaurants:  "Tina, you shouldn't be collecting  matches!  You should be collecting waiters." 

When I commented that going from Michelin-starred restaurant to Michelin starred restaurant would keep us from ever meeting the people in the country (who couldn't afford to eat in such places), Bill said, "We'll meet the waiters!  They're the people of the country."

We did meet the people--even beyond servers--because we asked directions a lot, and the people of the country were always very kind about helping us out.  Here are some of the places their directions helped us get to in Bilbao, San Sebastian, Oviedo, and Leon.

https://www.dropbox.com/sc/v80ajdqzgd00c0w/AADgRdI2exmyrI8MQEWyz3Y4a

Pre-Camino SPAIN

It may seem strange that I'm using my San Francisco Vistas blog spot for pre-Camino Spain, but it's all set up, and after all, I'm now looking at Spain from San Francisco, so here it goes!

When I thought of walking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela (called in English The Way of St. James), I thought of roughing it the way Mary O'Hara Wyman does in Grandma's on the Camino, a book I highly recommend.  I thought I'd be staying in the Albergues, which resemble places in San Francisco for getting the homeless off the streets or army barracks--bunk beds with  scores of people jammed together in a room.

 But I had a walking partner who had another vision of the Way of Saint James--the Way of Bill Shoaf--and I soon realized that the Way of Bill Shoaf suited me just fine!  We had private reserved rooms and our luggage was sent ahead from each hotel, which meant that we weren't carrying the equivalent of a grand piano on our backs.  We weren't, really, roughing it.  We were just walking, which is my favorite sport and the only one I'm at all good at, though I wasn't all that good.

I am also grateful to The Way of Bill Shoaf because my walking partner nixed my idea of arriving in northern Spain just in time for the Camino.  He said that would leave me with jet lag, so we allowed 10 days to get over jet lag, and in the process we stayed in Bilbao, San Sebastian,  Oviedo, and Leon (accent over the second syllable)--all beautiful places and ones I'd never seen before. 

Bill rented a car, which is something he's bravely done in several countries:  Switzerland, Portugal, the Netherlands, Denmark, Sweden, Germany, Austria, France, England, Belgium, Italy, Germany, Costa Rica, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Thailand! 

You may know that there is a pilgrim's certificate, sort of like a passport,  and when we soi-disant pilgrims pass through a tavern in a town, we get it stamped.

  I thought there should be a driver's passport, so Bill could get stamped by Avis in Spain, Hertz in Italy, or whatever.  Imagine having a passport that looks like this:

Of course you'd have to add the date and town.

 (In a later blog post I'll tell you about the passport I created for my own true pilgrimage.)

Bill quipped that his way of traveling was from Michelin-starred restaurant to Michelin-starred restaurant, so he was really interested in a comment a former boyfriend made back in the 1970's when he saw my collection of matchbooks and matchboxes from restaurants:  "Tina, you shouldn't be collecting  matches!  You should be collecting waiters." 

When I commented that going from Michelin-starred restaurant to Michelin starred restaurant would keep us from ever meeting the people in the country (who couldn't afford to eat in such places), Bill said, "We'll meet the waiters!  They're the people of the country."

We did meet the people--even beyond servers--because we asked directions a lot, and the people of the country were always very kind about helping us out.  Here are some of the places their directions helped us get to in Bilbao, San Sebastian, Oviedo, and Leon.

https://www.dropbox.com/sc/v80ajdqzgd00c0w/AADgRdI2exmyrI8MQEWyz3Y4a