Monday, April 23, 2018
The older I get
“You only get a minute, better live while you’re in it”
The Older I Get” Alan Jackson
A bit of a stiff mattress last night. I am up at 4:15am.... On the Camino at 5:15am, guided by the light of stars and headlamp. The amazing peaceful quiet of early morning, disturbed occasionally by the morning song of awaking birds.
One kilometer, two kilometers, ten kilometers in silence. The blush of sunlight begins to color the sky, second by second.
The surrounding mountains begin to take form, at first gently and then in bold strokes.
I’ve been through many thoughts this morning and no thoughts at all. This morning on the Camino I’ve been living in every minute.
Buen Camino,
Gilbert
The older I get
“You only get a minute, better live while you’re in it”
The Older I Get” Alan Jackson
A bit of a stiff mattress last night. I am up at 4:15am.... On the Camino at 5:15am, guided by the light of stars and headlamp. The amazing peaceful quiet of early morning, disturbed occasionally by the morning song of awaking birds.
One kilometer, two kilometers, ten kilometers in silence. The blush of sunlight begins to color the sky, second by second.
The surrounding mountains begin to take form, at first gently and then in bold strokes.
I’ve been through many thoughts this morning and no thoughts at all. This morning on the Camino I’ve been living in every minute.
Buen Camino,
Gilbert
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
Yesterday’s Man
“We have become, yesterday’s man”
An Irish man on the Camino”
Another Magical day in the Camino. So many magical moments....
Mass at Sacre Coeur ... Nothing quite as enchanting as Mass in French. Seven nuns singing the chorus portion of Mass was what I would imagine it would sound like in heaven (should I make it thereš³).
Dinner table at Roncesvalles ... Germans, Koreans, Frenchmen, Hungarians and Californians. Drinking , laughing, sharing , eating and living.
Dinner at hostel on Saint Nicolas Bl. Vegetable soup, warm bread , veal and desert... Exquisite ...
Pamplona ..... Ooooo so many wows !
Finding Hemingway’s private bar in Cafe Iruna, Pintxos for the first time, Mass at Pamplona Cathedral in Spanish, Pintxos for lunch, a stroll to the bull rings...
A private moment in Puente del Reina viewing the statue of Saint James in Church of Santiago. We are welcomed in and our Camino passport stamped and allowed to roam the church in silence.
A quiet stroll in MaƱeru........
I chose not to be “yesterday’s man”.
Hasta maƱana
G
An Irish man on the Camino”
Another Magical day in the Camino. So many magical moments....
Mass at Sacre Coeur ... Nothing quite as enchanting as Mass in French. Seven nuns singing the chorus portion of Mass was what I would imagine it would sound like in heaven (should I make it thereš³).
Dinner table at Roncesvalles ... Germans, Koreans, Frenchmen, Hungarians and Californians. Drinking , laughing, sharing , eating and living.
Dinner at hostel on Saint Nicolas Bl. Vegetable soup, warm bread , veal and desert... Exquisite ...
Pamplona ..... Ooooo so many wows !
Finding Hemingway’s private bar in Cafe Iruna, Pintxos for the first time, Mass at Pamplona Cathedral in Spanish, Pintxos for lunch, a stroll to the bull rings...
A private moment in Puente del Reina viewing the statue of Saint James in Church of Santiago. We are welcomed in and our Camino passport stamped and allowed to roam the church in silence.
A quiet stroll in MaƱeru........
I chose not to be “yesterday’s man”.
Hasta maƱana
G
Location:Calle de Esperanza,MaƱeru,Spain
Monday, April 16, 2018
Passion
“My Fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control in them.”
Jack Kerouac
Update from the Camino.
A near-0 day into Pamplona , tomorrow a 0 day to explore Hemingway’s “rincon”.
Excellent time to reflect and provide update.
April 14th , on a sunny morning the journey began, Saint Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles, via the Napoleon route. 24km, an amazing climb along green mountains and snow covered Pyrenean passes. A morning filled with the joyous movement of peregrinos,
Roncesvalles hostel was an experience in excellent hostel staff support. Check in, meals, even dirty clothes washed for 3.50euro. All done while I enjoyed a beer or two at local bar.
April 15th, Roncesvalles to LarrasoaƱa. 27.4 km, gentle rolling hills with a long, long , grueling descent. St. Nicolas hostel , the best 11euro diner ! The veg soup was delicious and combined with warm fresh bread to soak up the juice... incredible !
April 16th, LarrasoaƱa to Pamplona. 16.5 km, it rained last night and was gentle misting at start this morning. Made for muddy trails and lovely fresh landscapes. The moment I stepped beyond the outer wall of the city, I knew why Hemingway loved this place. The vibrant colors, the beautiful people, the energy embraced in the language , vino, pintxos and it goes on and on.....
Passion, live it !
Let others toil with fault and failure....
G on the Camino
Jack Kerouac
Update from the Camino.
A near-0 day into Pamplona , tomorrow a 0 day to explore Hemingway’s “rincon”.
Excellent time to reflect and provide update.
April 14th , on a sunny morning the journey began, Saint Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles, via the Napoleon route. 24km, an amazing climb along green mountains and snow covered Pyrenean passes. A morning filled with the joyous movement of peregrinos,
Roncesvalles hostel was an experience in excellent hostel staff support. Check in, meals, even dirty clothes washed for 3.50euro. All done while I enjoyed a beer or two at local bar.
April 15th, Roncesvalles to LarrasoaƱa. 27.4 km, gentle rolling hills with a long, long , grueling descent. St. Nicolas hostel , the best 11euro diner ! The veg soup was delicious and combined with warm fresh bread to soak up the juice... incredible !
April 16th, LarrasoaƱa to Pamplona. 16.5 km, it rained last night and was gentle misting at start this morning. Made for muddy trails and lovely fresh landscapes. The moment I stepped beyond the outer wall of the city, I knew why Hemingway loved this place. The vibrant colors, the beautiful people, the energy embraced in the language , vino, pintxos and it goes on and on.....
Passion, live it !
Let others toil with fault and failure....
G on the Camino
Saturday, March 10, 2018
Because
“Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing the lawn. Climb that goddam mountain.”
Jack Kerouac
As I take my first steps away from Saint Jean Pied de Port toward the Pyrenees, my soul soars. The lofty peaks await me, the passes shrouded in clouds call to me. I want to run, but I stop to drink in each moment, each step, I want to linger in the moment. I’ve spent too much time in offices, I’ve mowed too many lawns. It’s time to climb this goddam mountain.
The bill has been paid, the time clock punched, the expectations addressed........
Thanks for reading
“Hasta maƱana”
“G” on the Camino
Jack Kerouac
As I take my first steps away from Saint Jean Pied de Port toward the Pyrenees, my soul soars. The lofty peaks await me, the passes shrouded in clouds call to me. I want to run, but I stop to drink in each moment, each step, I want to linger in the moment. I’ve spent too much time in offices, I’ve mowed too many lawns. It’s time to climb this goddam mountain.
The bill has been paid, the time clock punched, the expectations addressed........
Thanks for reading
“Hasta maƱana”
“G” on the Camino
Location:Calle Sorandi,Esteribar,Spain
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
“The big question”
“ The big question is whether you are going to be able to say a hearty yes to your adventure “
Joseph Campbell
Yes!
That is what has been bouncing around in my head. Bouncing around in anticipation of beginning my journey along the Camino de Santiago. This journey, this adventure, as a “peregrino” will begin at Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. Situated on the French side of the Pyrenees, this ancient village is the starting point for the Camino France’s. A 780km trek to Santiago de Compostela.
The idea of a “hearty yes” has only been tempered by the question asked of all “peregrinos”. What is the motivation for this endeavor? Religious , religious and other or other? The answer to this question will determine the type of Compostela (certificate) issued to me at the end of my journey. The true Compostela or a simpler certificate.
I suppose I’ve been searching for the answer to that question much longer then I’ve known of the Camino.
When I first learned of the Camino de Santiago I had only a slight interest in the “why”. It was the “what” that caught my attention. The “what”, being the act of traveling to Europe and walking over 500 miles along a path that has existed for centuries. Now, as the start of my Camino draws closer, the “why” has become more prominent in my thoughts. It has become clearer to me, my adventure is to experience the Camino in its truest sense. As a “peregrino” in search of his relationship with God. To be clear, my relationship with God has had its moments. Moments of understanding and love. Moments of misunderstandings and loss.
But, I’ve never abandoned the search.
As a boy, I was a curious catholic. Unfortunately, not as curious about the Bible or God, as I was of the worshippers who sat around me. Of particular interest were the hand full of little old men, who seemed to have been touched by God. They would arrive by themselves, taking a knee in a pew at the rear or far edges of the church. It was evident, at least to me, that as they prayed silently, a light shined directly upon them. There was a gentle sense of being and belonging. I assumed then and believed for many years years after, that thru osmosis, I too would be touched. One day, I would be a little old man, touched by God. All that was needed, was to show up in church every so often to make sure the door was still open. I now realize it takes a bit more then just showing up.
So, it is then that I chose to live this adventure and my life with a “hearty yes”. Let me be the first to say that like St. Thomas the Apostle, I am a believer with doubts. Doubts about my faith, doubts about the faith of others and doubts about myself. But, just as in life, the Camino doesn’t demand that I find all the answers, it only asks that I provide a “hearty yes” to seeking. Seeking an understanding, seeking the adventure.
I will be sharing this adventure with all who wish to take an interest. Please read and follow my journey and share your thoughts with me.
Backpack is ready, tomorrow it begins with a flight to Paris.......
“Buen Camino”
“G” on the Camino
Joseph Campbell
Yes!
That is what has been bouncing around in my head. Bouncing around in anticipation of beginning my journey along the Camino de Santiago. This journey, this adventure, as a “peregrino” will begin at Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. Situated on the French side of the Pyrenees, this ancient village is the starting point for the Camino France’s. A 780km trek to Santiago de Compostela.
The idea of a “hearty yes” has only been tempered by the question asked of all “peregrinos”. What is the motivation for this endeavor? Religious , religious and other or other? The answer to this question will determine the type of Compostela (certificate) issued to me at the end of my journey. The true Compostela or a simpler certificate.
I suppose I’ve been searching for the answer to that question much longer then I’ve known of the Camino.
When I first learned of the Camino de Santiago I had only a slight interest in the “why”. It was the “what” that caught my attention. The “what”, being the act of traveling to Europe and walking over 500 miles along a path that has existed for centuries. Now, as the start of my Camino draws closer, the “why” has become more prominent in my thoughts. It has become clearer to me, my adventure is to experience the Camino in its truest sense. As a “peregrino” in search of his relationship with God. To be clear, my relationship with God has had its moments. Moments of understanding and love. Moments of misunderstandings and loss.
But, I’ve never abandoned the search.
As a boy, I was a curious catholic. Unfortunately, not as curious about the Bible or God, as I was of the worshippers who sat around me. Of particular interest were the hand full of little old men, who seemed to have been touched by God. They would arrive by themselves, taking a knee in a pew at the rear or far edges of the church. It was evident, at least to me, that as they prayed silently, a light shined directly upon them. There was a gentle sense of being and belonging. I assumed then and believed for many years years after, that thru osmosis, I too would be touched. One day, I would be a little old man, touched by God. All that was needed, was to show up in church every so often to make sure the door was still open. I now realize it takes a bit more then just showing up.
So, it is then that I chose to live this adventure and my life with a “hearty yes”. Let me be the first to say that like St. Thomas the Apostle, I am a believer with doubts. Doubts about my faith, doubts about the faith of others and doubts about myself. But, just as in life, the Camino doesn’t demand that I find all the answers, it only asks that I provide a “hearty yes” to seeking. Seeking an understanding, seeking the adventure.
I will be sharing this adventure with all who wish to take an interest. Please read and follow my journey and share your thoughts with me.
Backpack is ready, tomorrow it begins with a flight to Paris.......
“Buen Camino”
“G” on the Camino
Location:Camino France’s
Life’s plan
“We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us”
Joseph Campbell
Minutes away from boarding Air France flight to Paris. The beginning of my Camino de Santiago. Like all the peregrinos before me, I do not claim the Camino as my own, only the journey. Many things have been running around endlessly in my mind. Old questions, new answers, old worries, new hopes, old failures, new dreams. Sitting in airports awaiting flights have always caused me to reflect on life. Perhaps the idle time aided by a double Jack Daniel’s. I’ve been moving toward this adventure for quite some time now, I would guess all my life.
I can remember sitting out in my old mans Chevy Impala on a rainy day. The sound of the rain drops, the constant beat, the resonating tranquility. Reading Huck Finn, knowing then, I needed to be on an adventure. There had to be more for me. Even then, 10 years old.
I ran across a line in Ernest Hemingway’s, The Sun Also Rises.
“Going to another country doesn’t make any difference. I’ve tried all that.
You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.
There’s nothing to that”
Perhaps Hemingway’s, character, “Jake” was correct. The attainment of answers, the fulfillment of hopes and dreams, aren’t to be found in another country. But, what if on the flight to Paris, or on the TGV to Saint Jean Pied de Port, or the first steps along the Camino, I find an inkling of who I am. Isn’t that inkling of understanding worth the journey. I am not a “peregrino” in search of complete answers or fulfillment of hopes and dreams. But, i am willing to let go of all the plans and accept the inkling of understanding that awaits.
Taking that first step, accepting the risk, but also rejoicing in the moment, the reward of the awaiting journey. That is the ,”why” of my Camino.
Here is to letting go of all that is planned and rejoicing in all that awaits.
“Isn’t pretty to think so?”
Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises
I will be sharing my Camino experiences with you via these posts. Please follow if you wish, share your thoughts with me, if you will.
Bien Camino
“G” on the Camino de Santiago
Joseph Campbell
Minutes away from boarding Air France flight to Paris. The beginning of my Camino de Santiago. Like all the peregrinos before me, I do not claim the Camino as my own, only the journey. Many things have been running around endlessly in my mind. Old questions, new answers, old worries, new hopes, old failures, new dreams. Sitting in airports awaiting flights have always caused me to reflect on life. Perhaps the idle time aided by a double Jack Daniel’s. I’ve been moving toward this adventure for quite some time now, I would guess all my life.
I can remember sitting out in my old mans Chevy Impala on a rainy day. The sound of the rain drops, the constant beat, the resonating tranquility. Reading Huck Finn, knowing then, I needed to be on an adventure. There had to be more for me. Even then, 10 years old.
I ran across a line in Ernest Hemingway’s, The Sun Also Rises.
“Going to another country doesn’t make any difference. I’ve tried all that.
You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.
There’s nothing to that”
Perhaps Hemingway’s, character, “Jake” was correct. The attainment of answers, the fulfillment of hopes and dreams, aren’t to be found in another country. But, what if on the flight to Paris, or on the TGV to Saint Jean Pied de Port, or the first steps along the Camino, I find an inkling of who I am. Isn’t that inkling of understanding worth the journey. I am not a “peregrino” in search of complete answers or fulfillment of hopes and dreams. But, i am willing to let go of all the plans and accept the inkling of understanding that awaits.
Taking that first step, accepting the risk, but also rejoicing in the moment, the reward of the awaiting journey. That is the ,”why” of my Camino.
Here is to letting go of all that is planned and rejoicing in all that awaits.
“Isn’t pretty to think so?”
Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises
I will be sharing my Camino experiences with you via these posts. Please follow if you wish, share your thoughts with me, if you will.
Bien Camino
“G” on the Camino de Santiago
Location:SFO
Monday, January 1, 2018
Firsts
Firsts, First time I’ve visited Crater Lake, Oregon. First time I’ve Winter camped.
First time I’ve slept on snow. I am so captivated by firsts.
Angel’s life lesson(s). I’ve known Angel since kindergarten. His father hit the road when Angel was a baby and never looked back. Angel was that child, raised by a single mom. With the cards stacked against him, he dreamed. Dreamed of a beautiful wife , two kids (a boy and a girl), a big house with a pool, a corvette . He had it figured out at an age when wet dreams were still confusing to me.
Being raised by a single mom, growing up in poverty, didn’t prevent Angel from knowing what he wanted. He talked about it all the time. As with all things that matter, the want was vivid enough to become a reality.
So it was then, that sometime in our thirties I visited Angel, his beautiful wife (Annette), his two children (a boy & girl) . I walked past his yellow corvette parked in his circular driveway in front of his huge home. We sat in his oak hot tub overlooking his black bottom pool and talked of success. The redwood decking surrounding the pool and deck was artfully exquisite . I inquired as to the name of the obviously gifted craftsman. He answered , Gustavo ! Gustavo, another boyhood friend. Gustavo had arrived later in our lives from Mexico. We taught him how to be American and he taught us how to be Mexican. Gustavo was handsome at an age when I was still confused by wet dreams.2
Angel! I exclaimed , how much did Gustavo charge for building such a beautiful deck ? Nothing , he replied, Gustavo had done it for free. Free ! What a wonderful friend. Gustavo.
Christmas of that same year I stopped in to visit Angel. The corvette sat listing to the left with a flat tire. The huge house had no Christmas lights, the house was as dark as the cold December night. After ringing the doorbell , knocking on the door and then repeating , a light at the far end of the house came on. I peered thru the door and watched as the shadow of Angel lumbered to the door. Still in bathrobe , unshaven uncombed hair, he opened the door. He stood there in worn out slippers , bloodshot eyes and hopeless demeanor .
Angel , what the hell, its 4 o’clock in the afternoon , it’s Christmas Eve.
Without hesitation he began to share a tale of woe. Perhaps as much to tell the tale as for me to hear it. All the these years the reciting of the tale still brings tears to my eyes, so I will abbreviate it here.
Annette had left him for Gustavo and taken the kids.
The deck work hadn’t been for free. There is always a cost. Often perhaps not immediately due.
Angel was devastated.His first Christmas without Annette and the kids.
Sensing the deep depression within my friend I decided to share a tale of hope. A tale of firsts. I began by reminding him how lucky he was.... To which he looked at me with disbelief .. With a voice nearing tears he asked, “did you not hear me? Annette left me,this is my first Christmas alone.”
Yes, I replied , I heard you , but...
“ You are so lucky . Imagine if you will, meeting her. She is waiting in your future. She is going to share that first kiss with you. Do you remember that first kiss. The moment you look into her eyes and lean forward for that first kiss. The sensation of touching her lips, the taste of her mouth, the scent of her perfume.. you are going to have that moment again.... You are lucky“
First time pitching a tent in the snow, in the dark , in the cold. Tired, cold, hungry. It’s been drizzling all day. A 5 mile Snowshoe to the edge of Crater Lake yielded a view of an enormous expanse of fog. This is what it must be like to peer into the abyss.
Firsts. First Holy Communion . Forgive me Father for I have sinned. Hail Mary full of Grace.....
Tomorrow the sun is going to shine and the views of Crater Lake will be spectacular . I have no doubt , I will have “that moment again”.
G
First time I’ve slept on snow. I am so captivated by firsts.
Angel’s life lesson(s). I’ve known Angel since kindergarten. His father hit the road when Angel was a baby and never looked back. Angel was that child, raised by a single mom. With the cards stacked against him, he dreamed. Dreamed of a beautiful wife , two kids (a boy and a girl), a big house with a pool, a corvette . He had it figured out at an age when wet dreams were still confusing to me.
Being raised by a single mom, growing up in poverty, didn’t prevent Angel from knowing what he wanted. He talked about it all the time. As with all things that matter, the want was vivid enough to become a reality.
So it was then, that sometime in our thirties I visited Angel, his beautiful wife (Annette), his two children (a boy & girl) . I walked past his yellow corvette parked in his circular driveway in front of his huge home. We sat in his oak hot tub overlooking his black bottom pool and talked of success. The redwood decking surrounding the pool and deck was artfully exquisite . I inquired as to the name of the obviously gifted craftsman. He answered , Gustavo ! Gustavo, another boyhood friend. Gustavo had arrived later in our lives from Mexico. We taught him how to be American and he taught us how to be Mexican. Gustavo was handsome at an age when I was still confused by wet dreams.2
Angel! I exclaimed , how much did Gustavo charge for building such a beautiful deck ? Nothing , he replied, Gustavo had done it for free. Free ! What a wonderful friend. Gustavo.
Christmas of that same year I stopped in to visit Angel. The corvette sat listing to the left with a flat tire. The huge house had no Christmas lights, the house was as dark as the cold December night. After ringing the doorbell , knocking on the door and then repeating , a light at the far end of the house came on. I peered thru the door and watched as the shadow of Angel lumbered to the door. Still in bathrobe , unshaven uncombed hair, he opened the door. He stood there in worn out slippers , bloodshot eyes and hopeless demeanor .
Angel , what the hell, its 4 o’clock in the afternoon , it’s Christmas Eve.
Without hesitation he began to share a tale of woe. Perhaps as much to tell the tale as for me to hear it. All the these years the reciting of the tale still brings tears to my eyes, so I will abbreviate it here.
Annette had left him for Gustavo and taken the kids.
The deck work hadn’t been for free. There is always a cost. Often perhaps not immediately due.
Angel was devastated.His first Christmas without Annette and the kids.
Sensing the deep depression within my friend I decided to share a tale of hope. A tale of firsts. I began by reminding him how lucky he was.... To which he looked at me with disbelief .. With a voice nearing tears he asked, “did you not hear me? Annette left me,this is my first Christmas alone.”
Yes, I replied , I heard you , but...
“ You are so lucky . Imagine if you will, meeting her. She is waiting in your future. She is going to share that first kiss with you. Do you remember that first kiss. The moment you look into her eyes and lean forward for that first kiss. The sensation of touching her lips, the taste of her mouth, the scent of her perfume.. you are going to have that moment again.... You are lucky“
First time pitching a tent in the snow, in the dark , in the cold. Tired, cold, hungry. It’s been drizzling all day. A 5 mile Snowshoe to the edge of Crater Lake yielded a view of an enormous expanse of fog. This is what it must be like to peer into the abyss.
Firsts. First Holy Communion . Forgive me Father for I have sinned. Hail Mary full of Grace.....
Tomorrow the sun is going to shine and the views of Crater Lake will be spectacular . I have no doubt , I will have “that moment again”.
G
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