<P>What a wonderful memory, and a great opportunity for your son! If only I could afford to take my daughters . . . maybe that will be my next goal. I thank you for sharing this jewel from your trip!
<P>Melissa
<P> <B><I>Barry Sloan <bksinspainaITOTAL.NET></I></B> wrote:
<BLOCKQUOTE style="PADDING-LEFT: 5px; MARGIN-LEFT: 5px; BORDER-LEFT: #1010ff 2px solid">I'd love to get an idea of how many of you plan to go for<BR>the first time in the future, compared to the percentage of you who have<BR>already gone--and what were the highlights for you?<BR>Thanks,<BR>Melissa<BR>I walked the Camino, SJPP to Santiago, with adults in 2001. And again,<BR>Leon to Santiago, in 2002 with my 10 year old son. Here is but one of the<BR>special moments we shared on our journey.<BR><BR>We were heading to Portomarin and it was a rainy day. Walking with a child<BR>is different than walking with adults. You end up stopping and<BR>investigating everything that looks interesting, walking slower and leaving<BR>later. So... we were just dawdling along, looking for frogs and interesting<BR>rocks. Because it was raining and we left late, we didn't come across any<BR>other pilgrims that day. As we were walking through one of the many stone<BR>hamlets along the way, I heard !
a voice calling out to us. "Hey perigrinos!<BR>Wait! I have something for you." I turned to spot an old woman making her<BR>way towards us. She was all stooped over and her woolen clothing hung in<BR>tatters. She was wrinkled and whiskered and smiling as she motioned for us<BR>to follow her. She led us to a ramshackle stone hut and opened the door. A<BR>chicken dashed in behind her and started pecking at the dirt floor. She<BR>said she had some bread for us. My son was a little frightened by her<BR>appearance. She asked me what was the matter with him. "Doesn't he<BR>understand Spanish?" she asked me. I told her he understood it better than<BR>I did but he was shy. She reached up to open a cupboard and her hands were<BR>shaking a little... you know, the way old peoples hands do sometimes. She<BR>took out a huge loaf of bread and took up a knife. "This is bread from<BR>Galicia" she said as she deftly sliced us each a large hunk. The chicken<BR>was pecking away at the crumbs a!
s they fell, and scratching away at the dirt<BR>floor. She was beaming as she handed us our bread and wished us a good<BR>Camino. This woman had to be at least eighty years old and she was, simply,<BR>beautiful. It was like a movie scene and we were in it. We spent the next<BR>several hours walking along in the rain, under our ponchos, munching away on<BR>the best bread either of us had ever tasted.<BR><BR>As we walked along my son, Quinn, told me that he was sure the rest of her<BR>house was much nicer than the part we had seen. I'm not so sure of that.<BR>But I am sure of one thing. That simple act of kindness from the old woman<BR>is something I will never forget. She didn't have much of anything, but she<BR>was sharing what she did have.<BR><BR>Barry</BLOCKQUOTE><p><br><hr size=1>Do you Yahoo!?<br>
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