<HTML><FONT FACE=arial,helvetica><FONT SIZE=3 FAMILY="SANSSERIF" FACE="Franklin Gothic Medium" LANG="0"> I read somewhere that you cannot think of two things at the same time. This can be a very good thing.<BR>
The first time I walked the Caiman (from SG) I had not wanted to go and certainly had not planned or prepared anything for it. I only went to keep an eye on my sister in law who'd been talking about the Caiman forever and finally had a bicycle made and set the date to start her pilgrimage.<BR>
She did not speak a word of anything but English at the time and had really never been out of the country by herself. We became quite worried about her and since I was the only one in the family who knew Spanish, could take the time off, and was running up to Seville at the slightest opportunity, I agreed to go to make sure that she'd be all right.<BR>
I had never been in the north of Spain, knew little or nothing about the Caiman, and decided to make the best of it sightseeing and catching up with my reading. Most of my luggage consisted of books and I was going to follow my sister in law by car, or bus, while she bicycled to Santiago. Arriving in Pamplona we stayed at a lovely little hotel called "Leyre"; when the manager mentioned that the hotel was called Leyre after the monastery with its artistic treasures, its incredible history, its unbelievable library and its Benedictine monks that sing Gregorian chants at services several times a day, there was nothing to do but to make a day trip to the Monastery. The day that we were there the monks were having a service remembering their seven brother monks who had remained in Algeria of their own free will, although they had the opportunity and, indeed, had been urged to leave, and were beheaded in 1996, one by one, in front of each other. At the service the monks read the letters of their martyred brethren wherein they wrote that they had remained because their Christian duty required that they not abandon the community that they had served, at the foot of the Atlas Mountains, for decades.<BR>
I had never heard of the beheadings, was hugely shocked about it and moved besides myself by the martyred monks' letters. It then seemed clear that the spiritual turmoil that the story unleashed within me could only be quieted by taking some kind of faith-related action. Three days later at was in SJPP with freshly bought shoes, backpack, and stick walking up the foggy mountain.<BR>
Like many New Yorkers I consider walking an inefficient use of time when one can ride and get some place so much faster; I suffer the New Yorkish infirmity of automatically raising an arm to stop a taxi when a free one comes into view. All sorts of exercise are, and have always been, foreign to me. The British actress Glenda Jackson once said that when a thought of exercising crossed her mind she laid down until the urge passed. I agreed with her absolutely.<BR>
Yet, in the thirty-four days that it took me to walk to Santiago I found it difficult only the first two nights when I couldn't sleep because my legs hurt a lot; after the third day they didn't hurt anymore and I had no problems other than timing my liquid intake according to the likely availability of bars with bathrooms.<BR>
During those days of walking up, and down, in the heat, in the rain, surrounded by other pilgrims, or alone, I was absorbed first, with the seven dead monks and their letters and then, as I leaned more about it, with the significance of the Camino and its wondrous place in the human family. <BR>
When I came back to New York, my doctor told me that there were logical reasons why I had withstood the demands of such a long walk so well: first, I weighed only about 100 pounds and, while in my late fifties, I was in fairly good health; second, my mind was occupied every minute with many thoughts other than the physical challenges of such a long undertaking, and, lastly, I had not known what I was getting into it and had not preconditioned myself to worry about it. <BR>
I suppose that, as they say, ignorance can be bliss.<BR>
Warm Regards,<BR>
Rosina <BR>
ps. I have a booklet containing the letters of the martyred monks; if any one of you wants to know more about them, let me know. </FONT></HTML>