Up, Up, and Away

IWell, it's time to be on my way, to travel on down the road. I will be catching a bus today, traveling to Grado. Grado is up in the mountains, about 15 miles from the northern coast of Spain. It will be cooler, maybe even a little bit of wet. I'm sad to be leaving, but excited for new adventures. 

I will be in the midst of Pilgrim's once again. I had a scrumptious paella dinner with Rebekah and Father Stephen last night. It was in a restaurant in San Nicholas, another small pueblo, just up the road from Moratinos. Or is it down the road?

Before we went to dinner, Rebekah took us to see their bodega. It was a real live bodega, deep in the earth with a chimney and everything. There is even a long table for festas. It is very cool in there in the summer, and warmer than the outdoors in winter. It was quite impressive and has a hobbit quote over the door. Bodegas resemble hobbit houses from the outside. 

Here's a picture of Rebekah in front of hers and a picture of a neighboring bodega. 

I will be catching a bus by the side of the road in front of a hotel. It's how we roll here in the country. 

Well the bus was 50 minutes late. That's also how we roll here.  There were four other Pilgrim's waiting for that 50 minutes. They didn't get their tickets on line like I did. So, they didn't get to go on the bus. The bus drivers on these buses don't sell tickets on the bus. I'm sure it would be very time consuming. These are long distance buses, so the fares are more than a dollar or two. 

Anyway, despite being late, the bus made it to Leon in time for me to catch my bus to Oviedo. And when I got to Oviedo, I got a ticket for a bus that left for Grado 10 minutes later. So it was pretty slick. The only problem was, there was no time to get something to eat. And me without any crumbly cheese. lol

Grado is in the mountains. And a whole lot cooler. The fog was so thick for a while, it looked like it was night time. We drove through some astounding mountains. Some of them were solid , slick, shiny rock in multiple colors. I was so busy gawking, I forgot to take pictures, and then the fog came in. I will try to get pictures when I go back down in two weeks. 

There were also huge rivers and lakes all sparky and shiny. Coming from parched southern California it looked like a treasure glittering in the light 

Well, I'm settled in my cozy little bed. Tomorrow we get breakfast ready at 6 am. Oh Lordy, I hope I don't hurt myself. Hehe. Night to all. I love you and miss you, we'll all of you except . . . Tee her her. 

When I Was Twenty One

It has been an interesting time here in Morotinos. I lived in a small pueblo like this in the state of Washington when I was 21. That actually was the title of a sweet song originally by Frank Sinatra,  "When I Was Tweny-One." The name of that pueblo or village was Olalla. It was outside of Port Orchard, which was outside of Bremerton and across the Puget Sound from Seattle. 

The village was a string of large parcels of land along a long narrow road. Each parcel had a house on it set back from the road. Each parcel was about 10 acres I think. On our side of the road, a creek ran through the back of each parcel, and the parcels all backed up to a forest. 

There was a small store/post office at the end of road about 10 miles down the road from our house, which was about 20 miles from a major road. We had a splendid view of Mount Rainier as we drove to the store. 

I was 21 with a new baby. We were hippies, my first husband and I. We had a vegetable garden which blessed our table and a pack of dogs that ran wild. They came home in the evening to be fed and slept under the house. 

The house was an old white farm house. The second story was built under the eaves and consisted of one bed room and another room with a sloped ceiling that was perfect for the baby's crib. The owner had just installed indoor plumbing before we moved into the house, but it still used a wood burning stove for heat. The stove in the kitchen ran on propane. 

There were berry bushes and apple trees and I made pies and canned fruit and vegetables. The year we lived there was the year of Woodstock, the original one. 

I think it was also the year of the Beatles White Album. 

We had atraveled to Washinton in a VW bus with the baby in a cardboard box bassinet and the dogs in the back. To this day, my daughter cringes in horror about the card board box. It seemed perfectly normal and natural at the time. 

Alas, the idyllic life ended after about 18 months and we moved back to Northern California where we lived in a garage. I'm not sure my daughter knows about that phase. I hope this doesn't evoke another series of, "I can't believe you . . ."

I'm not sure what prompted this trip or tripping down memory lane. Maybe it's the pueblo, maybe it's the dogs, maybe it's being in a place, once again, where a trip to the store is an event.  It was a good year then. And now that, as the song lyrics express, "the days are short, I'm in the autumn of my years," almost 50 years later. I have had a good life, and as the Japanese curse goes I have lived in interesting times. I don't think it was a curse though. I have no regrets. I love the person I have become, and that person is the result, the sum total of all the events of my life, all the things I did and didn't do, all the things that happened to me and for me. I have been blessed in so many ways. 

Most of all I have been incredibly fortunate to have found a spiritual way of life that works for me. As some say, "I have found a God I can do business with." I use the term God because it is convenient. I've believed for years that if I could describe or express in words what tha means, it would diminish the concept. 

This week I decided I would try using the words Amazing Grace or AG. It truly has been an amazing gift, this life, this spirit of mine. I am so incredibly grateful that our program was devinely inspired to allow us to find a God of our own understanding. 

Well this was awfully serious. It must have been the Wheatabix I ate for breakfast. I had never had Wheatabix before. It's rather like the taste of shredded wheat and the texture of a Nature Valley granola bar. Not bad at all. All sorts of new adventures for Nancy here in the pueblo, driving a stick shift for the first time in 45 year, ringing a church bell, walking 5 dogs at sunrise, feeding chickens, and living with two priests I feel a bit like I'm in an episode of Granchester.