More than excited…

Just as I’d returned from the ‘Bloodsuckers’ and leaving several vials of good looking red behind, Cameron called. He’d researched ticket pricing and routes. Just to say the names of these European stops and how they roll of my tongue, even though a bit awkward. It’s like great tasting candy. Soft, mellow and then a few teutonic R’s thrown in (like Frankfurrrt). Then, there’s Bilbao which I confused more than once with “Bilboa’ something other entirely. But, it has not dampened my excitement and my cells are jumping with joy, like on a trampoline. This is an effect that NO medicine can provide.

Tomorrow I am hiking again with back pack. Training, training for the Camino. Bought some lambs wool belt cover to put on pack straps, to soften the shoulder pressure (suggestion from Connie) and it makes the world of difference.

The other thing that happened which is soo great. My friend Billy found another of our old friends whom we’ve tried to find for years. He lives in Huntsville, Al. (Imagine. I lived there as well. Maybe just a few streets apart? Such is fate.)

 

Triumph Over Inertia

Cameron at Port (2)

Since I last blogged here I’ve been in Newport Beach, then back to Bend; then I drove down to San Francisco to see if we still had that old chemistry (we did). Drove back to Bend. Worked on my Bend vacation rental (which I link to here more for the search engines than for you, I’m afraid), and drove up to Seattle; met with some Earth Class Mail alumni (Rajeev, Ross, Steve) and Dr. Bob (whom I met 20 years ago while he was on a year-long sabbatical at Harvard and I was in law school), and continued to wonder if I might feel myself again anytime soon.

That’s something for a different post.  My post here today is evidence that I have somehow triumphed over the inertia that considered a trip to Spain, in the midst of so much change, a sort of distraction from the real business of post-divorce:  selling house, screwing up the courage to sell house now, deciding where to move (considered by some one of the most important decisions a person can make), selling contents of house, finding an apartment in a new city, packing, moving to the new city, building revised coaching and writing and entrepreneurial career in the new location, constructing a new social life, and so on.  Oh, and stick a five-week trip to Spain in there somewhere.

But of course you will say that a month-long meditation through rural France and Spain is exactly the sort of “distraction” I need, and perhaps as much as I could possibly hope for.  It would certainly go a long way toward slowing down the thoughts, the indefatigable thoughts, that motor through my mind.  Dr. Bob believes, on the evidence of a recent dinner meeting, that I am engaged in “frenetic” activity.  Perhaps that’s a nice word for “compulsive”?

I suspect that in time the timing of this trip will seem more providential than a scary disruption of some other ideas of life.  It’s starting to feel one step closer to that way already . . .

Today I held my breath and took the step of booking myself for a five-week trip thatCIMG4650 disconnects me from normal life, for better or for imagined worse.  On September 16, I’m flying from Newark, NJ (month-long stay in Jersey City sponsored by Adam Weiss and his partner-level legal recruiting) to Bilbao, Spain, home of Frank Gehry’s world-famous Guggenheim Museum (and its contents, which people tend to forget about) and, as if that weren’t enough, home to our uber-trekker friend Julio (who has been on the Camino himself, and therefore has been silent for as long as I have been).

Once we walk from western France to northeastern Spain, it will be time for another kind of reward:  European civilization, a defining passion of both Mom’s and mine.  We decided today that we’ll head down through Porto, Portugal, home of Port wine, and then farther south, through the teeming cork fields (corks also invented in Portugal) to Lisbon, once home to a great empire and now one of Western Europe’s most affordable cities.  On October 22, we’ll fly back, I to Newark and then to Bend, Mom and our new teenage companion (to be announced soon!) to Montrose.

In the meantime, let’s see how many of the questions I have receive an answer.

Bavarian Slims- perfect for Camino

After reading the book “To the Field of Stars’ and describtions of food in Spain while on the Camino, I am convinced that this cookie would be a perfect snack. Lightweight, chock-full of wonderful ingredients and perfectly filling with a drink. Now, how do I pack 5 lbs of them into my back pack?? I’d have to give up my second pair of shoes? Or, my rain poncho?

Morning hike in stretched boots

Yesterday was a fairly busy day. I packed my back pack with nearly all the needed things to try out this weekend at the canyon for a lengthy hike. Already it’s over 20 lbs and not all is in there. My fancy water bladder was not filled and my buddy said that 1 gallon weighs 8 lbs?? WTH? I have to take it all out and see what I can do without. Although right now I NEED everything!! Then, I had an ‘aha moment’. What if I lose 5-7 more lbs? Then I could transfer that to my pack.

This morning I walked in my stretched boots and they felt ever soo much better. Rather than having to spend $180.00 on serious hiking boots and have to break them in.

Glorious morning hike. Fresh cut hay giving off that lovely summer smell. The mountains still with a bit of snow on some. A cool, light breeze. Then, I saw peacocks. What gorgeous birds they are. Well, the males anyway. Noisy, screeching things. A little further down the path I remembered that my dad told me a recipe for ‘roasted’ peacock. He learned of it when he was P.O.W in France. I didn’t believe him and thought he was pulling my leg. I mean, who would eat a peacock? But then, some people in this world eat stranger things. I’ll look for it and put it in my recipe section.

 

Food Gathering

This morning was still dark when I got up and not quite bouncing with energy but never the less got ready for a hike. My friend Monika went with me and we drove to the canyon  not the altitude top this time but to the bottom. Hair pin curves are a bit scary and the surrounding is breath taking between high canyon walls and lush, green, narrow valley. The Gunnison River is mandering through there and we even saw a fly fisher. A buck and doe crossed the street before us, not even worried, still chewing whatever they’d found. Rabbits and chipmunks. Only birds sang, otherwise it’s this velvety peace and stillness.

There was no hard breathing at the bottom. Nice change from the lung burning, air grasping hike on top. Next time, we’ll go 10 miles. I have to go farther than a few miles in readiness for the camino.

At home, the same old problem. What to eat? Running off to get fresh vegetables and then putting it together in a pleasing manner. How easy just a couple of eggs would’ve been. Or, a nasty burger and fries. Well. I did the veggies. Boiled my potatoes and added Italian Beans. Love those. (My subconscious waiting for the phone call and results from the Mayo clinic.) Also a side salad with pears chopped in.

Went to price hiking boots. Yikes. On Sale, they’re still $170.00 but did not buy those. They hurt my shins. (Shins are devices for finding furniture in the dark.) They did offer to stretch my boots, free service. Maybe that will make them better. Sure hope so.

Filled with anticipation and committment

Yesterday, middle of the night, I’d woken from another message send by a worried brain. It  seems that every time I am stressed, I dream that I have to move into a trailer. (Having lived in a couple of them, it’s not an insult to folks who still do.) This one was a double wide but still had dark paneling and I was trying to find cubbyholes where I could hide my few, inherited treasures. I had a sign outside the tiny yard which stated : Villas Miseras American Style.’ A phrase I’d coined after I was in Brazil, may years ago and saw their ‘Villas’ like bird’s nests, poorest of the poor, nestled atop this mountainous prime real estate.

I was stressing about the camino, again. How to book a multiple city flight, how to be able to afford this venture. Instead of staying in bed fretting, I got up and went on the camino forum, wrote a short request and then went back to bed. I had 2 answers in the morning. One, from a 72yr old lady, who has walked the camino six times and is going once again, in October. To her I posted questions this morning about what ‘things’ I would really need and what type of boots to buy. (The ones I got on ebay are hurtin my right foot.)

Later, my ‘girls’ came from Grand Junction and we all went to the Black Canyon to show them the Beauty. Took a hike. Carrie (15) great young lady, and I managed 5 miles in 90F and that was a bit rough so short a time after surgery. Altitude made my lung burn. We talked about the possibility of her coming along on the camino. Lifetime experience. I told her, before you get married, you go on that hike with your ‘prospective hubby’ because you will really get to know him, his quirks, etc. in those six weeks. When I showed her some clips of the camino on ‘you tube’ I got re-inspired, excited and totally committed no matter what. I am not going to listen to my own objections nor will I give in to my fears and doubts. I went by myself on a train when I was five, to the next town because I wanted to travel. I went to Nuernberg by myself, on the bus, with nothing but my doll in a shopping net, to visit my aunt. (Mother didn’t know and I was punished when I was brought home.) I went to Munich by myself when I was fifteen and to England when I was seventeen. I can do this!!

Had a good conversation with Adam who put me in touch with a friend of his, who lives in Leon and I could ask him more questions. Cameron called as well and we’re trying to figure out the length of time he could go.

Another coincidence?

Just got back from town and buying more stuff. Sports Authority, where I now own a corner. I was checking out back packs and this guy wanders over to help me. In the course of the conversation, after he tells me, what an awesome idea this is to walk the Camino and I told him why I’m going, he asks:” Do you know about the Gerson Therapy?’ I was speechless for a second. Not only that but in specific about the coffee enemas. My goodness. This is Montrose. Seems like there are a few enlightenend people here.

Bought the backpack but probably end up taking it back as it weighs twice (over 3 lbs) of what should be available, according to research. I need every ounce and every spare inch.

Doubts creep in

For some reason I woke at 1:50 A.M. and chaotic thoughts came marching through on hob-nail boots. I wondered if I could really do this Camino? This long stretch of unknown path. Doubts followed and I was wide awake. How will I eat my special ‘diet’? What if I can’t find anything that agrees with me? How will I ask for ‘Fixodent’ in Spanish? Wonder if my right foot will hold up as nearly 2 years ago, I couldn’t walk for seven months due to a severe case of ‘Plantar’s Fasciitis’. Is this a reasonable expectation…’at my age’? Although not a vacation but a purpose of health intervention, will it work? What if it doesn’t? What will I do for plan B? How will I get to where I need to start? What if I can’t get to a Hostel in time and won’t get a bed? Right now, in the blue hour of the morning, it’s a bit overwhelming. I’m looking at all the ‘stuff’ I purchased and wonder how I’ll get it into a back-pack. (I’ll have to practice this too.) Then, the conversation with Cameron where he can only accompany me for a little while… then, I’m on my own.

Today’s Shopping Trip

More shopping and crossing off list.

2 pr socks (75%wool) & extra shoe laces

camp towel (looks like a chamois)

Knee brace (just in case)

vacuum packed T-paper (8 rolls down to a few inches)

This is so much fun!

The Other Great Pilgrimage, Locus of Many Darwin Awards: The Running of the Bulls in Pamplona

Mom notes on Facebook today that Pamplona “is on our way of the Camino. Glad this will Pamplona Bacchanalbe over.”

She’s referring here to the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. Hemingway was much in love with bullfighting and Pamplona itself, but today’s Running of the Bulls is the sort of bacchanal usually associated with drunken college students on southern American beaches. The Running of the Bulls is also a frequent subject of the Darwin Awards, won each year by people who, through breathtaking acts of stupidity, remove themselves from the gene pool.

PamplonaFrom ABC News today:

For those keeping track, the count stands at 113.

Injuries, that is, as the annual “Running of the Bulls” continued in Pamplona, Spain this weekend. Sixteen people have been hospitalized with serious injuries in four days.

The cobblestone streets of this northern Spanish town were slippery with dew, alcohol and trash from parties that rage during the eight-day San Fermín Festival.

Overcrowding has been a major problem, increasing the danger to the runners on the 900-yard course. About 1.6 million people are expected to visit during the festival.

If you were attending the Running of the Bulls, your to-do list might look like this:

1. Fly to Spain

2. Get blindingly drunk

2a.  Show breasts (if female)

2b. Crowd-surf (usually males)

3. Run into street with bulls

4. Get impaled, gored, OR (extra credit) trampled

So, just to review.

This:

Drinking

inevitably leads to this:

Goring

Camino Preparation | Camino Not Chemo! - Part 2

More than excited…

Just as I’d returned from the ‘Bloodsuckers’ and leaving several vials of good looking red behind, Cameron called. He’d researched ticket pricing and routes. Just to say the names of these European stops and how they roll of my tongue, even though a bit awkward. It’s like great tasting candy. Soft, mellow and then a few teutonic R’s thrown in (like Frankfurrrt). Then, there’s Bilbao which I confused more than once with “Bilboa’ something other entirely. But, it has not dampened my excitement and my cells are jumping with joy, like on a trampoline. This is an effect that NO medicine can provide.

Tomorrow I am hiking again with back pack. Training, training for the Camino. Bought some lambs wool belt cover to put on pack straps, to soften the shoulder pressure (suggestion from Connie) and it makes the world of difference.

The other thing that happened which is soo great. My friend Billy found another of our old friends whom we’ve tried to find for years. He lives in Huntsville, Al. (Imagine. I lived there as well. Maybe just a few streets apart? Such is fate.)

 

Triumph Over Inertia

Cameron at Port (2)

Since I last blogged here I’ve been in Newport Beach, then back to Bend; then I drove down to San Francisco to see if we still had that old chemistry (we did). Drove back to Bend. Worked on my Bend vacation rental (which I link to here more for the search engines than for you, I’m afraid), and drove up to Seattle; met with some Earth Class Mail alumni (Rajeev, Ross, Steve) and Dr. Bob (whom I met 20 years ago while he was on a year-long sabbatical at Harvard and I was in law school), and continued to wonder if I might feel myself again anytime soon.

That’s something for a different post.  My post here today is evidence that I have somehow triumphed over the inertia that considered a trip to Spain, in the midst of so much change, a sort of distraction from the real business of post-divorce:  selling house, screwing up the courage to sell house now, deciding where to move (considered by some one of the most important decisions a person can make), selling contents of house, finding an apartment in a new city, packing, moving to the new city, building revised coaching and writing and entrepreneurial career in the new location, constructing a new social life, and so on.  Oh, and stick a five-week trip to Spain in there somewhere.

But of course you will say that a month-long meditation through rural France and Spain is exactly the sort of “distraction” I need, and perhaps as much as I could possibly hope for.  It would certainly go a long way toward slowing down the thoughts, the indefatigable thoughts, that motor through my mind.  Dr. Bob believes, on the evidence of a recent dinner meeting, that I am engaged in “frenetic” activity.  Perhaps that’s a nice word for “compulsive”?

I suspect that in time the timing of this trip will seem more providential than a scary disruption of some other ideas of life.  It’s starting to feel one step closer to that way already . . .

Today I held my breath and took the step of booking myself for a five-week trip thatCIMG4650 disconnects me from normal life, for better or for imagined worse.  On September 16, I’m flying from Newark, NJ (month-long stay in Jersey City sponsored by Adam Weiss and his partner-level legal recruiting) to Bilbao, Spain, home of Frank Gehry’s world-famous Guggenheim Museum (and its contents, which people tend to forget about) and, as if that weren’t enough, home to our uber-trekker friend Julio (who has been on the Camino himself, and therefore has been silent for as long as I have been).

Once we walk from western France to northeastern Spain, it will be time for another kind of reward:  European civilization, a defining passion of both Mom’s and mine.  We decided today that we’ll head down through Porto, Portugal, home of Port wine, and then farther south, through the teeming cork fields (corks also invented in Portugal) to Lisbon, once home to a great empire and now one of Western Europe’s most affordable cities.  On October 22, we’ll fly back, I to Newark and then to Bend, Mom and our new teenage companion (to be announced soon!) to Montrose.

In the meantime, let’s see how many of the questions I have receive an answer.

Bavarian Slims- perfect for Camino

After reading the book “To the Field of Stars’ and describtions of food in Spain while on the Camino, I am convinced that this cookie would be a perfect snack. Lightweight, chock-full of wonderful ingredients and perfectly filling with a drink. Now, how do I pack 5 lbs of them into my back pack?? I’d have to give up my second pair of shoes? Or, my rain poncho?

Morning hike in stretched boots

Yesterday was a fairly busy day. I packed my back pack with nearly all the needed things to try out this weekend at the canyon for a lengthy hike. Already it’s over 20 lbs and not all is in there. My fancy water bladder was not filled and my buddy said that 1 gallon weighs 8 lbs?? WTH? I have to take it all out and see what I can do without. Although right now I NEED everything!! Then, I had an ‘aha moment’. What if I lose 5-7 more lbs? Then I could transfer that to my pack.

This morning I walked in my stretched boots and they felt ever soo much better. Rather than having to spend $180.00 on serious hiking boots and have to break them in.

Glorious morning hike. Fresh cut hay giving off that lovely summer smell. The mountains still with a bit of snow on some. A cool, light breeze. Then, I saw peacocks. What gorgeous birds they are. Well, the males anyway. Noisy, screeching things. A little further down the path I remembered that my dad told me a recipe for ‘roasted’ peacock. He learned of it when he was P.O.W in France. I didn’t believe him and thought he was pulling my leg. I mean, who would eat a peacock? But then, some people in this world eat stranger things. I’ll look for it and put it in my recipe section.

 

Food Gathering

This morning was still dark when I got up and not quite bouncing with energy but never the less got ready for a hike. My friend Monika went with me and we drove to the canyon  not the altitude top this time but to the bottom. Hair pin curves are a bit scary and the surrounding is breath taking between high canyon walls and lush, green, narrow valley. The Gunnison River is mandering through there and we even saw a fly fisher. A buck and doe crossed the street before us, not even worried, still chewing whatever they’d found. Rabbits and chipmunks. Only birds sang, otherwise it’s this velvety peace and stillness.

There was no hard breathing at the bottom. Nice change from the lung burning, air grasping hike on top. Next time, we’ll go 10 miles. I have to go farther than a few miles in readiness for the camino.

At home, the same old problem. What to eat? Running off to get fresh vegetables and then putting it together in a pleasing manner. How easy just a couple of eggs would’ve been. Or, a nasty burger and fries. Well. I did the veggies. Boiled my potatoes and added Italian Beans. Love those. (My subconscious waiting for the phone call and results from the Mayo clinic.) Also a side salad with pears chopped in.

Went to price hiking boots. Yikes. On Sale, they’re still $170.00 but did not buy those. They hurt my shins. (Shins are devices for finding furniture in the dark.) They did offer to stretch my boots, free service. Maybe that will make them better. Sure hope so.

Filled with anticipation and committment

Yesterday, middle of the night, I’d woken from another message send by a worried brain. It  seems that every time I am stressed, I dream that I have to move into a trailer. (Having lived in a couple of them, it’s not an insult to folks who still do.) This one was a double wide but still had dark paneling and I was trying to find cubbyholes where I could hide my few, inherited treasures. I had a sign outside the tiny yard which stated : Villas Miseras American Style.’ A phrase I’d coined after I was in Brazil, may years ago and saw their ‘Villas’ like bird’s nests, poorest of the poor, nestled atop this mountainous prime real estate.

I was stressing about the camino, again. How to book a multiple city flight, how to be able to afford this venture. Instead of staying in bed fretting, I got up and went on the camino forum, wrote a short request and then went back to bed. I had 2 answers in the morning. One, from a 72yr old lady, who has walked the camino six times and is going once again, in October. To her I posted questions this morning about what ‘things’ I would really need and what type of boots to buy. (The ones I got on ebay are hurtin my right foot.)

Later, my ‘girls’ came from Grand Junction and we all went to the Black Canyon to show them the Beauty. Took a hike. Carrie (15) great young lady, and I managed 5 miles in 90F and that was a bit rough so short a time after surgery. Altitude made my lung burn. We talked about the possibility of her coming along on the camino. Lifetime experience. I told her, before you get married, you go on that hike with your ‘prospective hubby’ because you will really get to know him, his quirks, etc. in those six weeks. When I showed her some clips of the camino on ‘you tube’ I got re-inspired, excited and totally committed no matter what. I am not going to listen to my own objections nor will I give in to my fears and doubts. I went by myself on a train when I was five, to the next town because I wanted to travel. I went to Nuernberg by myself, on the bus, with nothing but my doll in a shopping net, to visit my aunt. (Mother didn’t know and I was punished when I was brought home.) I went to Munich by myself when I was fifteen and to England when I was seventeen. I can do this!!

Had a good conversation with Adam who put me in touch with a friend of his, who lives in Leon and I could ask him more questions. Cameron called as well and we’re trying to figure out the length of time he could go.

Another coincidence?

Just got back from town and buying more stuff. Sports Authority, where I now own a corner. I was checking out back packs and this guy wanders over to help me. In the course of the conversation, after he tells me, what an awesome idea this is to walk the Camino and I told him why I’m going, he asks:” Do you know about the Gerson Therapy?’ I was speechless for a second. Not only that but in specific about the coffee enemas. My goodness. This is Montrose. Seems like there are a few enlightenend people here.

Bought the backpack but probably end up taking it back as it weighs twice (over 3 lbs) of what should be available, according to research. I need every ounce and every spare inch.

Doubts creep in

For some reason I woke at 1:50 A.M. and chaotic thoughts came marching through on hob-nail boots. I wondered if I could really do this Camino? This long stretch of unknown path. Doubts followed and I was wide awake. How will I eat my special ‘diet’? What if I can’t find anything that agrees with me? How will I ask for ‘Fixodent’ in Spanish? Wonder if my right foot will hold up as nearly 2 years ago, I couldn’t walk for seven months due to a severe case of ‘Plantar’s Fasciitis’. Is this a reasonable expectation…’at my age’? Although not a vacation but a purpose of health intervention, will it work? What if it doesn’t? What will I do for plan B? How will I get to where I need to start? What if I can’t get to a Hostel in time and won’t get a bed? Right now, in the blue hour of the morning, it’s a bit overwhelming. I’m looking at all the ‘stuff’ I purchased and wonder how I’ll get it into a back-pack. (I’ll have to practice this too.) Then, the conversation with Cameron where he can only accompany me for a little while… then, I’m on my own.

Today’s Shopping Trip

More shopping and crossing off list.

2 pr socks (75%wool) & extra shoe laces

camp towel (looks like a chamois)

Knee brace (just in case)

vacuum packed T-paper (8 rolls down to a few inches)

This is so much fun!

The Other Great Pilgrimage, Locus of Many Darwin Awards: The Running of the Bulls in Pamplona

Mom notes on Facebook today that Pamplona “is on our way of the Camino. Glad this will Pamplona Bacchanalbe over.”

She’s referring here to the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. Hemingway was much in love with bullfighting and Pamplona itself, but today’s Running of the Bulls is the sort of bacchanal usually associated with drunken college students on southern American beaches. The Running of the Bulls is also a frequent subject of the Darwin Awards, won each year by people who, through breathtaking acts of stupidity, remove themselves from the gene pool.

PamplonaFrom ABC News today:

For those keeping track, the count stands at 113.

Injuries, that is, as the annual “Running of the Bulls” continued in Pamplona, Spain this weekend. Sixteen people have been hospitalized with serious injuries in four days.

The cobblestone streets of this northern Spanish town were slippery with dew, alcohol and trash from parties that rage during the eight-day San Fermín Festival.

Overcrowding has been a major problem, increasing the danger to the runners on the 900-yard course. About 1.6 million people are expected to visit during the festival.

If you were attending the Running of the Bulls, your to-do list might look like this:

1. Fly to Spain

2. Get blindingly drunk

2a.  Show breasts (if female)

2b. Crowd-surf (usually males)

3. Run into street with bulls

4. Get impaled, gored, OR (extra credit) trampled

So, just to review.

This:

Drinking

inevitably leads to this:

Goring