We left Arcos, our absolutely superb villa, after I was able to stroll through the garden and appreciate the skill of the gardener in developing and maintaining the property so carefully.
I felt light and rather elated to be a pilgrim again. Being a tourist is good for me for a short time, then I get to feel guilty and rather indulgent. I am not sure there is any less indulgence in being a Western pilgrim with high tech gear and the luxury of taking weeks off work to travel, but there are aspects of a pilgrimage that meet my soul in ways that simply touring do not.
I am so sedentary in my normal life that I am often surprised at how enjoyable the act of walking really is. I am so stuck in my head that it is refreshing to be getting out and wandering back streets where a man is hosing his garden or a couple of women are chatting over the fence, or into the lanes with long stretches past vineyards and cornfields and eucalypt plantations and an occasional territorial dog yapping authoritatively from the top of his stone wall.
There is time to notice things, to feel the sun's heat, to let my mind think or ponder or go into neutral. I am very aware of small sensations - is that a blister developing or are those muscles too tight or .... such small things.
In my pondering is the sense of privilege that I have to be undertaking this pilgrimage. I was not vetted or checked, just handed my pilgrim credentials so I could collect stamps along the way. Stark contrast to the situation for millions of displaced people who are considered potential threats for no real reason and denied the opportunity to cross borders that are open for me.
I think of how the task of taking a pilgrimage demands one to befriend one's own body. In my work, and in my own experience, I see situations where people distrust their own bodies, and pummel them into shape when they don't keep up with unrelenting demands. You don't get very far on a long journey like a pilgrimage unless you listen to the needs of your body and respect its strengths and weaknesses. The pace you choose, rest and food, water and coffee, conversations and silence, can hinder or aid you as you go.
We arrived rather wearily in Barcelos yesterday afternoon. I love this city!! It has an atmosphere of civic pride. Flower gardens, clean and wide streets, no-car zones for pedestrians, historic monuments and ruins, street cafes and various statues of cockerels. (This due to the legend of the roast chicken dinner that came back to life and alerted the now hungry magistrate that an injustice had been done. The pilgrim he had convicted and hanged for a crime was thereby justified as innocent and thankfully found alive and pardoned.) We have had several walks through Barcelos, late afternoon and early morning and soon we will wander back over the bridge in search of barbecue pork ribs.
We had a side trip today - Tim will post up - and tomorrow we resume our journey north.
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