Happy Monday! My apologies for being a bit late today. Kakalak judging has started and so has poison ivy and garden clean-up. And it’s still National Poetry Month! My regular schedule is a bit wonky.

So, a two-year anniversary. I’ve never followed the traditional gift for various anniversaries very closely, but I’ve always admired those couples who do. I think it encourages them to be observant and somewhat creative as those milestones come along. For the second anniversary the traditional gift is cotton. At first glance it may seem an odd choice, but cotton represents comfort, strength, and intertwining of lives. In that sense, a perfect idea.

Hubby and I have been married well beyond two years, but tomorrow is the 2^nd anniversary of when we left for Spain for our Camino. I hope you don’t mind reliving with me some of the moments from those first couple of days and of course the comfort, strength, and intertwining of that pilgrimage.

We flew out of Charlotte on April 21, and arrived in Pamplona on the afternoon of April 22.  We wouldn’t officially start our almost 500 mile walk until the next day, yet we still spent the afternoon walking! The stained-glass window was in the Church of St. Lorenzo, just around the corner from our hotel, in a large plaza in Pamplona. St. Lorenzo’s was the first of many churches–very small to very large–we visited and the hundreds of beautiful stained-glass windows we saw. This window, to me, was reassurance we’d be watched over along the way. While the Camino is the Way of St. James, The Blessed Mother was an image that appeared in windows, bas relief, and statuary at just the right moments.

We found the arena and walked the streets where the running of the bulls is held. The streets are so narrow they aren’t much more than a chute, so I guess that’s how the bulls are somewhat contained. They’re made of cobblestone and asphalt, so it wasn’t hard to imagine the noise and feel the ground rumble as the animals pushed their way through. Some of the locals living in upstairs apartments wouldn’t have to reach too far in order to touch the horns thundering below them. Without even being present during the event it wasn’t hard to imagine the excitement and adrenalin rush! I can see why Hemingway wrote of it.  

In Pamplona I also had my first Radler. In preparing for our pilgrimage, one piece of advice on Camino Facebook pages kept popping up, ‘At the end of a hard day of walking, you need to refresh with a Radler.’ So, when in Rome–or Spain–I had to give it a try. A Radler is beer mixed with lemon or other citrus soda. I’m not much of beer drinker, but this really was refreshing. I’ve not found one here that’s the same flavor. This was also the first place Hubby and I could try out our limited Spanish, causing the waitress to laugh but also gave her practice in her limited English. The intertwining of cultures happening right away.

La Plaza was the home of our first official Spanish meal, a pilgrim’s meal on the eve before our first day of our walk. Most restaurants have a specific pilgrims’ meal–consisting of a salad or soup, main course, and dessert. In some cases, also more wine than we’d ever drink! The courses vary from one place to another, and we never had a bad one. At La Plaza I had artichoke hearts with chicken in a sauce and flan for dessert. Hubby had grilled veal. According to my notes, both were delicious.

El Cerco was our first hostel of our walk, and finding it was another opportunity to use our limited Spanish. I could ask, ‘Where is El Cerco?’, unfortunately the young mom I asked didn’t know. Asking a follow-up question wasn’t quite as easy, but between the three of us we figured out where we needed to be. This was also when received the realization how late the locals eat dinner. We’d walked 8 hours, 19.2 miles and 40,000 steps! We did not ease into our pilgrimage. It was 5:00, and we were hungry. When we asked the woman at the desk where a good restaurant was, she asked, ‘You want to eat? Now?!’ with a look that indicated she thought we were nuts. But to her credit she did direct us to a cafe where we had a piece of frittata and a chunk of bread. A tasty but light supper after a long walk.

Our first day started out drizzly, hilly, mountainous, and then this. All beautiful. No matter what The Way threw our way, even on the days we struggled–and there were days when we did!–we proved capable, individually as well as together.

Even now we see a shell, and we instinctively smile, a wave of nostalgia sweeps through us, and we’re immediately back on the Camino. As I told a fellow pilgrim today, we may leave the Camino, but it never leaves us. It continues to call.

Tomorrow evening Hubby and I will celebrate our two-year anniversary at an authentic Spanish restaurant. A few tears may be shed as we lift our glass of wine–or a Radler–and toast our own comfort, strength, and intertwining from our pilgrimage.

Thank you for letting me reminisce today.

National Poetry Month continues on Wednesday with two more special poets. I hope you’ll stop by my window and meet them!