Three Ladies arrive in Villafranca del Bierzo, one now tells you her story

Only the names are changed to protect the innocent




As we arrive into Vilafranca del Bierzo it is late. The albergue is full to bursting, Senor Jago gives us the key for the old hospital to sleep in. I had read somewhere, that this was the place where the pelegrinos who were sick, exhausted and near to death or unable to go on got the "exemption "or the last sacrament. From somewhere Marie has read of that too (as a nurse she knows what it means) she is not keen on sleeping there. But Paulette says " the elders don't snore " and we have to laugh, now Maureen, Beryl and myself leave to go to see this hospital. Even Maureen has decided to have a look at this" place of the dread " as she calls it!

It's a large room similar to a church. One hall, no windows but around the room a row of holes in the thick walls. As we stand there in the dim light in the middle of the room it happens! I can hear the groaning, I can smell the stink of the wounds, I swear that it was not my imagination. Its really happening! I must go outside I feel sick! They both follow me outside as I grumble something about feeling bad and wanting to stay alone for a while and they leave me.
Alone now I sit down on the stairs. I want to smoke a cigarette. On the bottom of my pocket I find an old biscuit (better maybe to say the crumbs of an old biscuit). I begin think the reason of my strange feeling could be my hunger, so I decide to eat this feast. At this time a crow comes from the tower of the church, I throw it bits of my meal, it comes close to me and to my surprise it trustful perches on my shoulder! I am fearful for my eyes!! Its mighty beak is maybe 2 cm away, near my ear! The old stories of crows that pierce the eyes of the damned, races through my mind but somehow I feel no fear! It seems as if it wants to tell me a secret! After a while it carefully feeds on the crumbs in the palm of my hand, never hurting me. When there are no crumbs left, it flew away.

Maureen and Beryl come looking for me. They worry if I am sick I but cannot explain better than say I feel soothed (yes some how that's the right word)
They both tell me they have found 2 mattress and a place where to put them in the hospital. I think its better I should sleep in the albergue tonight!! Although the others will snore in the albergue, I give the key back.
Together we go into the city and have warm bocadillos as big as my head and beer and have some fun before bed
That was in the year 2002, just one year after the separating from my husband. Hard to explain but just at that moment I felt I had left behind all the anger that had poisoned my life for all of that year

Iran

August 2009

Cathy is French but now lives in Germany, we had met some time ago while I was walking my north camino in Spain and we keep in touch by email since.
I asked if her if she would tell me about her fascinating trip to Iran this year, just before the recent troubles we saw so much of on TV. This she kindly agreed to and here she tells you of the start and flight of her trip to Iran.
Enjoy this brave lady's story
Michael

Cathy

Strange how difficult it is this time to write about my trip, it has been so different. Different script !!Different art of writing the numbers (they look like .. well, like what??) Different calendar, we had the second month of ... let alone what year, ? By the way, on my return I was in a complete muddle, and we came back to Tehran one day too early!!! Their weekend begins on Thursday and their holy day is Friday. They eat such delicious things but don't drink wine while they have a town called SHYRAZ too! There are vineyards there, I saw them!!! What the hell do they do with the grapes?
The traffic on the roads ... Oh my God !! THE TAXIS!!! I never believed I would get up into such a scrap heap. The unbearable noise in the towns, the infinite silence of the desert, the stink of the towns while you are being bewitched by the smell of the blossom of the orange trees in the gardens. The b... regulations of the religion, the moving sadness of the melodious shout for the prayer in the evening twilight (it moved me to tears, at 4 o'clock in the morning too, I was luckily sleeping like a log and I never heard it he,he,he!!) The infinite kindness of my host, the incredible brutality of the government... It will need a while till I get it all sorted in my mind.

By the way note the phone number of the fast food shop in this photo?? the last but one line!!! You read it from the right to left of course, chuckle !!! So now I have a tip for you !!! Note on the right side (before the:) this spaghetti must mean ...yes you have it...
Phone : 7845 86219 7472 634263. !! As all the numbers from 1 to 9 are there, suddenly your Persian knowledge has gone up by about 100%. You can copy the figures and compare them with ours. Sahra wrote the figures on a small card for me, I carried this from then on in my pocket. So now I could always compare the numbers I saw, with those on the card. After a while I knew them by heart.
By the way I don’t think they will deliver to your house chuckle. I love the 5 that's the little heart that stands on its head




Iran the Flight

I'm sure that nothing bad will happen as we now get a Mullah on board. Of course he travels in the business class while his bodyguard is travelling in the economic class. He is an attractive bald tall young man of about thirty that would fit in better acting in a US movie with Whitney Houston than looking after an old man.

Pascal has not got his visa so I must travel alone, I will have to change in Istanbul and I must confess that makes me a bit nervous. So I think if I follow in their tracks, I'm sure they will lead me to the right gate. They both are going to Tehran in any case!!

We start a whole hour late! I fear we might get trouble with the connection in Istanbul, I'm famous for missing the trains, I don’t know whether that applies to the aeroplanes too!

I sit between a Turkish woman that sleeps all the time (she probably has not got to get a connection to anywhere!!!) and a Lebanese young man that wants to reach Beirut tonight. He shows me on the map of the airport and points out that the gates are not far from each other, so we might make it through! I hope so!

Inch Allah!!

Well we make up some lost time and we are only half an hour late when we land at Istanbul. In the distance I can see "my" Mullah and his bodyguard, but they go another way, off the common run of people. I find the gate 212 on my own and soon behind the window I can see both waiting, so I know I'm right.

On the 2nd plane I sit between two Iranians, a young man of 20 that lives and studies in London and another man in his forties who works in Munich. They turned out to be pleasant travelling companions. No woman during the flight wears any manteau (a long coat that has to reach the hollow of the knee) nor a headscarf. Before we had started I had taken out mine and stuffed them into the net on the back of the seat in front of me. Now the flight captain announces we were reaching Tehran. At once I rush putting on the coat and busy myself wrapping the headscarf around my head. My companions burst out laughing

"I'm not used to this" I apologize.

"That's not the matter" they reply “It's much to early! Every Iranian woman enjoys her topless time till the last second and Iranian men enjoy the sight longer"

“What does the Mullah think"

"Oh he sits in the lonely business class!!!"

Now completely wrapped and from now on completely illiterate (Different script!! et c., as I said before). I shadow my companions to the baggage counter. To my surprise my suit case is the first that arrives onto the ramp!

Then I must go through the 'passport control'. There are 4 special counters for the foreigners.

Behind three of them there are young officers that look smart in spotless clean uniforms.

Behind the 4th there is an elderly corpulent officer that smiles under a bushy moustache that tries to hide the gap in his upper teeth. His eyes, behind glass bricks, shine almost fatherly, I decide to go there! I give him my passport and my boarding ticket. He looks at my passport then at the boarding ticket again and again! I begin to sweat, he says something in Farsi ..???? then in a language that seems to be English...?? and after glancing at my passport he says in almost perfect French

"The name on the boarding ticket and the name on the passport are different"......??!!

'Is there a secret jail under this airport?' What can I do when they throw me into an humid dark cellar? Will they allow me to ring the embassy ??? where the hell did I put the number of the embassy in fact?' And suddenly I emerge from my panic attack.

"Oh yes I know !! I'm French and that's a French passport! First is my maiden name and then, look there, there is my married name! But in Germany as they have written it onto the ticket they did it on the German way : First the married name and then the maiden name"

A river of sweat runs down my back!

"Different country, different custom" he replies smiling and waves me away.

POOOH !!!!

Down stairs behind the window I can recognize Sahra. She is waiting for me!! I have arrived safely !!!

Tehran in the morning

Isfahan , the square in the twilight.

Pascal and I had booked from Germany at an Iranian travel agency for a trip in the Zagros mountains located west of Isfahan, but as you may know things went differently, Pascal had not been able to get his visa!

Sahra was not too worried about that but I didn't dare to make the trip alone as it's not suitable for a woman to travel alone there. I have to confess I had not quite realised many of the problems before then. Being a woman has its problems, sure maybe you can go alone to the bakery at the corner of the street, but that's all! Otherwise it is much better you go with an another woman!

One evening in Isfahan while Mahmoud , Sahra and I were making kebabs in the yard of a friends house, when we were speaking about this. Mahmoud said

"My friend and I have been hunters and fishermen since our childhood, we know every mountain and every stream around here. If you dare to go with 2 men I can arrange with my friend to accompany you" I choked "Oh I don't think I can shoot, let alone animals!! I prefer to observe them" I had already regretted my reply 'oh dear what if I have offended him'?

"I don't shoot every time, only when the family is fed up with chicken" he laughed "By the way I am the one who has caught the fish we had for dinner yesterday and these kebabs here are made from the meat of the ibex that I shot last winter!"

'Oops !!! 'The trout had been very yummy! Be good and allow him the poor ibex' I thought while he was carrying on speaking.

"A good hunter must know the habits of the animals, so I think I would be a good guide for you. I know a place where there are leopards and wolves. Are you interested in going there? I don't think we will see them though as they only come down in winter when they are hungry. Also they come in the night but who knows we might be lucky tomorrow "

'Oops, I'm not sure I want it as wild as that!' I think, but ashamed I might offend him, I replied

"Oh! We will see, err! Well OK let us try it"

Now it was Sahra that choked and stammered out while looking daggers at me

"I would like to accompany you!"

So the late afternoon next day, 4 of us set out for the mountains. It turned out to be a great trip although (or may I say possibly because) we never met an animal!

Abyaneh is a village with a mild mountainous climate located 40km north west of the town of Natanz and so it was, one hot day my Isfahan friends and I decided to visit it

A road branching off at kilometre 55 from the highway connecting Natanz to Isfahan leads to the Bazrood Valley where the village lies. Built on top of one another the homes seem to be disguised by the sheer face of the mountain. When you enter the village you might feel a sense of loneliness. But as you move along you get more and more interested and begin to wonder how such a village has withstood the elements through years. In fact there is no evidence showing how far exactly the village dates back, but many buildings date back to the Achaemenid dynasty ( 500.BCE) All though the residents have converted to shiite Islam ages ago( I believe they had to???? ) in their hearts and customs they are still Zoroastrians I believe ( HEY !! don't wait for me to explain that he he !!!For more information about them ,look at Wikipedia Zoroastrian OK!!)

Funny for me was the detail, that there are always 2 door knockers on the doors! One for women, the other for men (in unmistakable shapes hehe ) So those inside by hearing the different noise can know if there is a man or a woman at the door, and the women can hurry to put on her headscarf if it is a man that calls!

Hi friends
As none of you sent me any adventures this month I thought I might let us chat about the world as we find it. As many of you know I fell in love with Spain many years ago. I don't expect you all to have the same passion for it and things have changed over the years. I saw it under Franco in the late fifties up till 1982 when we left for Australia then less till I started walking the cominos in 2003. This took me to some places I knew and some, mostly in the North that I had never seen before. Those I knew and remembered from my early days have changed but you can still find it in your heart to love them. Each city, each province and its people are different, in a way this adds much to Spain's charm. I find all provinces charming, while some of course appeal more than others. The architecture of Cordoba, Seville, Oviedo, Barcelona, Madrid, Santiago, and every little town between has its own unique charm. We now find people from all Europe in remote villages and excepted as villagers. I remember many years back when I lived here that was still unusual, I spoke at a meeting about a motorway that was to plough through our village. I was shouted down as a foreigner,
"What would he know"
Then another villager stood up and said
"You speak of a man that has raised his children in our village Michael is a child of our village! (Un Hijo del pueblo)"
I have never felt more proud than that day. I certainty have never felt quite as excepted here in Australia even though I have been here much longer now. Yes if I returned to that village I know most would have forgotten me by now. That’s life I would have to earn that respect again. But still you can walk into a bar in Spain and if you except the friendship of the man next to you in conversation, on leaving you may find to your surprise your drink bill has been paid. One of the reasons I return as often as I can is to experience again this spontaneous warmth. of its people.
I'll let Luke talk now about his adopted country, he now lives much of the time in Buenos Aires

Luke

Buenos Aires is a beautiful city and I'm glad I have been able to spend some time here, plus it's affordable. You can take Luke out of Buenos Aires, but you can't take Buenos Aires out of Luke. It's been a nice experience, I wasn't planning on spending much time here. The first week, I was walking down the street and I stopped and I said to myself,
"I like it here and it's me!!!"

Luke went on to say

At least Peregrino we have a point of reference as to how it used to be. The developers are eating up the world. There is nothing that we can do but enjoy a place that's not spoiled when we find it, even in the 1930's writers were complaining about how places were being ruined by travel agencies and developers, so it's nothing new, probably the Romans were complaining too. Nowadays things are being swept aside more quickly by the influence of movies and t.v. What can we do? Nothing but keep walking,
Ciao Luke

About right Luke we can keep on walking even after we find that place:

As yet no new story for the adventure page, If Luke had sent a photo or two that would have done much to fill it chuckle. Who else lives in an adopted country or has a tale to tell
Here is one of mine set to a poam this is known here as bush poetry

CAMPING KAKADU
The Maisie and I took a trip to Darwin
via Kakadu and we camped in our small camper van on a “safe” camp site it was very hot and sticky













Camping Kakadu















Mike, with his wife, drove north
to get the winter beat,
but now he’s on the campsite,
he cannot stand the heat.
It was in their little camper van
that he said in Kakadu
“By Christ it’s bloody hot love
laying here with you,

my sweaty shirt’s gone flying
over to the front,
I think that in the morning,
for me socks I’ll have to hunt.
I took me blessed pants off,
me jocks have come off too.
The back door’s wide open,
so the breezes might blow through.

There’s no moon tonight dear,
at least, it’s mighty dark.
All windows are wide open
as we lay here in the park,

like the newly born we lay here,
without any of our clothes.
Just the sweat upon our brow
and some upon our nose.

Mosquitoes buzz outside, dear,
and fly around the door,
and all those little biting things
keep looking in for more.
Now as our two lean bodies
are laying here a sweating,
I think that we are lucky dear,
thank Christ for mossy netting!”





















Later he relates it to his mate how it was.

“Out of the darkness,
the pitch blackness of the night,
I heard a little noise, mate,
wow! a wondrous bloody light.
Not just one strong light mate,
just one would not do.
No! One on me wife, and
another one, yeh TWO!

I was so much blinded,
I just couldn’t damn well see.
I wanted to run outside, mate,
for another bloody pee!
Then I heard the drawn out chuckling
of a rotten bloody stranger.
We hadn’t paid our dues, mate,
it was the Camping Ranger!

I didn’t think it fair, mate,
just doesn’t seem quite right,
when it’s so bloody hot there
some 50 plus at night.
We were laying there, quite harmlessly,
and she is my best buddy.
When up he comes, so quietly,
to catch us in the nuddy!

I received the biggest shock,
cut short me bloody life.
When I realised there was more, mate,
he’d brought his blinking wife!
So I slapped around right quick,
to put me hands upon me bits.
While me poor darling wife,
tried her best to hide her tits!!

That’s the way it went mate,
believe me, don’t you see?
she’s just a normal woman
with two hands. No - not three!
The ranger and his wife, mate,
having seen all that they might,
thought they’d have some more fun
and cut the bloody light !!

Ya know what I thought mate,
this was quite an oddity,
after all ’twas a bit late to think
about our modesty.
For as we scrambled round,
I found it was quite funny,
as, black as pitch, we searched for it,
that’s right, the bloody money.

The wallet was discovered,
the money soon withdrawn
from the trampled trousers,
that earlier I had worn.
So I grabbed the small change
and paid the blasted fee.
Yes you got it right mate,
the rent was paid by me!

Now the ranger and his wife
crept off into the night,
with their searchlight turned off now,
without their bloody light.
They had had their laugh now
so they crept off, I surmise,
to catch the next poor beggars
and take them by surprise.

So when you’re in the Northern Territory
a camping in the heat,
having removed all your clothes,
remember those that peek,
the rangers that creep up,
as you’re laying there all starkers.
Don’t forget to pull the blinds
and foil those nosy parkers!”


© Michael Davey - December 1998

Childhood memories of France

Well this month the story came again from Cathy. Unfortunately there are no photos but I might find one or two that might give you an idea of the village where this story took place, although probably not the one chuckle. You see I got her email after sending a joke. She came back with this email that she gave me permission to use.


Hi Mike

One of the jokes reminds me an old story, Do you like to listen it? Otherwise delete it



Mike: ( I think Cathy meant did I want to hear it chuckle well of course I did,) only the names have been changed to protect the innocent chuckle!!!!

Claudette, Jean, Phillipe and me were children (between 5and 9 years old)
My mother and I lived in a big old house in France with a large yard and lots of outbuildings. Claudette, Jean and Phillipe used to come to see us in the holidays. We used to play hide and seek in the old school in the small village where my older sister was a teacher. Phillipe was the youngest. It took some time for him to understand the game. Normally he used to shout
"I have found the best spot"
and would show us his best hiding place well before he ran to it to hide! Well after a while and lots of explaining it seemed he understood the game and from then on we had lots fun playing with him.
In those days our Mums did not have the wonderful washing machines that we have today to wash the clothes every time we got grubby. Washing day was a huge task done once a week, usually on Monday. One of the outbuildings was the laundry, inside this there was a huge copper, in here my mother used to store the dirty washing till the next " washing day".
On this particular day we were playing and Phillipe discovered it and took up residence, pleased he had found a great hiding spot!!
Well may be it was the smell of sweat and body odours, but he must have felt as if he had returned to a big womb and after a while he fell asleep!!!
This time he had not showed us his " best spot "!!! The problem was, we didn't find him !!
At first we didn't worry and we went on with our game. It wasn't untill my mother called us for dinner we realised we had forgotten him. Yes we had really forgotten he had been playing with us !! Of course my mother asked us
"Where is Phillipe?"
It followed a long silence and then panic!! We all ran out calling to him!
No answer!!
We ran onto the street and looked for him!
We asked people on the road!
We asked the neighbours ...He had simply vanished!!!!!
My mother sent us home promising us a sound thrashing later, while she herself ran to the butcher to call the police (he was the only one of the village who had a phone!!!!!). Firmly chastised Claudette, Jean and I went back to the kitchen, here we found Phillipe!!!! He was sobbing and crying heartrendingly
"I'm an abandoned child, sob!! I don't want to go to the orphanage!!!!!!"

Thank you Cathy for your lovely snippet of village life in France many moons ago
More story's and yarns wanted for next months page come on get writing amigos

A French Ham on the hoof

Hi Dear friends
Many of you will by now have read my story of the Ebro camino, now for you and others who have only time to read a short story about us Crazy Peregrinos I would like to introduce you to Cathy
I met Cathy on my North Camino and have corresponded ever since. Cathy was born in France a good many years ago but shall we say she is still some years younger than me. she is now living in Germany here she returns to France to walk to
Le Mont Saint Michel on the coast. This is a short snippet but a true story of her Camino in France to Le Mont Saint Michael.
Here is her story in her words



Hi Peregrinos and friends of Michael

Here a pastime for you all, I have tried to translate it. Do you like to read a bit of bad English ??
Sometime I think " Why do you do that Cathy ? You should make a cruise like everyone else does !!"
But now I know the answer .....I should not win a pig

I'll tell you




That was the Sunday before I have met the Angel!
I started late as I had chatted with the charming people of the B&B (gite) where I have had a room for the night.
I was surprised to meet the police on the next crossing
" Do I get guilty of speeding?" I joked
"No we just take care that no cars drive here. There is a bicycle race, but you can go on. Just keep an eye on the riders, you will hear them anyway!!"
So except for a pack of riders from time to time I had the little tarmac road for my own use
As I came into the next village all the riders were already there I could not believe it, they were drinking beer and red wine!!!!
It turned out there was a fair. Some young folk went around with a with a flower decorated pig on a handcart. You had to find out how much this pink super chap does weigh.
"Buy a card for 1.50euros and write on it the weight you suppose it is then your name and your address." he said. So I bought a card and I wrote 112kg 200gr, then my name and my address and gave the card back to one of the young guys. As he read it he began laughing
"How do you want to get it to your home if you win it?" he asked
"I will buy a lead and it will have to walk with me " I replied as seriously as I could.
The next day I met the Angele (an other story I will tell you later) In the evening while eating I told her and her husband the story and gave them the card
"Study the newspaper next week " I said " may be I will win that pig then you can collect it, you're allowed to keep it "
And formally I wrote onto the card
"Mr and Mme Pottier are allowed to collect, and to keep and later if they want to slaughter the pig I have won with this card" and I signed it

Well I cannot believe it!!! I have never won anything!!!! but a pig !!! somewhere on the camino!!!
Angele choked with laughing as she phoned me, I too !!!
" Now you have won the pig, you probably want to have it?"
" Oh Dear!! No!! You have the signed card that's still valid, you can keep it "
" Will you come here when we slaughter it? We would have a feast for the pig he he, and for you"
"I would like too but I am afraid it is a bit too far. You can send me a cane of sausage with the post if you like chuckle"
Anyway I think I should be unable to eat even a bit of it he he.

Well now if you have stopped laughing I tell you,

The main problem I have had during the first week on the camino to Le Mont Saint Michel was how to phone for booking accommodation!!!
After a short while I needed a new pre paid card for my mobile as the connections had been always expensive (from France to France via Germany!!) I had a phone card too for the phone box. But phone box's have became rare as anybody who has a mobile knows nowadays!! In Germany they had said I could use the Telecom card, so one day in a village I found a " Bar / Tabac" that had pre paid cards from telecom. I bought a card of 25 euros, I put the given number on my mobile and while I was drinking my coffee I received a message
"We are putting 25 euros on your account, we will send a message when this process is finished" ( or something like that sorry for the bad translation !!!) I left in a good mood. Ten km later I was middle in the forest as the bl,,y thing rang Oh !! the message from telecom Germany !! ...
" We are sorry the number you have made is not accepted For more information call the number so and so ..."
Grrrr! I called .....
" We are sorry there is not enough money on your account for the number you have called " !!!
I still wonder how I did not ditch the bl..y thing into the ditch. I preferred it to take photos of the wild orchids that grow there. So from then on I had no possibility to phone anywhere !!! Except if I get to a phone box that works!
Two days later (the day after the fair) it was already hot at 7am I knew I would walk the longest stage of my trip I had an address for an accommodation in Vitré 25km ahead! But no phone!! I thought " well Cathy!! If you divide it in 5 km stages, you can manage it" I started in a good mood although the first 10 km ware on a small tarmac road. Somewhere a young Indian lady was picking cherries in her garden, she gave me a bowl of them lifting my spirits and we had a nice chat. Ahead along side a stream and in the shade I met an old couple and their sweet granddaughter. The little girl was asleep in her stroller
"She could not sleep last night It was too hot " they explained "When you come too the truckers stop, can you tell my son-in-law, that runs the bar/ restaurant there? We will come a little later, as we don’t want wake her "
...So the communication works here I thought
Well I did that and got a (alcohol free!!!) cool drink as thank you !!
At the end of the main street of the village I found, in the description of my friend Huberts hugely praised "green way" this was the old railway!!! Probably Hubert had always walked here in autumn or in winter!!!!!! In front of me I found a way in the sun with no shade anywhere for the next 5km!! While the temperature was about 30°c or more in the sun!!! At First I thought about returning to the village and waiting for the evening, but I had this problem with the phone! I had to arrive early enough to get accommodation.
I rummaged in my bag for a shirt, I moistened it with the left over water I still had (a big mistake!!! As now then I had no water) and put it on my head (I had left my hat behind on the fair Tut tut) and set out on the walk, and survived the first 5km !!From then on the next 5km turned out to be a green tunnel between old oaks and chestnuts, what a relief!! (that is except for the mosquitoes in the stagnant water of the puddles along the way), I felt very burnt out though.
Coming out of the "tunnel" on my right and in the distance I could see the belfry of a church and a large village. I had no idea what this village was but it seemed to be large enough to have some accommodation and it was early enough to be able find the city hall still open So I decided to turn and to walk to there!
At first I couldn't find the city hall but I met an old monk(!!) that led me to it. The lady there gave me a leaflet with addresses of accommodations and said
"Oh you are a pilgrim ? We have an albergue here!!!! There are already guests there. They have the key, go there and knock at the door"
The little old monk was still waiting and he showed me the way to it
Oh!! I felt so good !! An albergue !!! and people there, It sounded sooo good !!!!
But then I came at the albergue I couldn't find anybody, the door was locked!!!!! My guide had left!!!
A group of old men were playing “Palets” (something like bowling, A game as old as Brittany.)
“We are here every day” they said “ We haven't seen anybody for a week, there's nobody here !! You have to ask for the key at the city hall ” I thanked them for this cheery information!!!
Meanwhile I found the city hall was closed!!!
The little monk has vanished I felt lonely and exhausted and I was thinking about giving up as I found a phone box that worked!!!! I rummaged in my pocket and found the leaflet. There was an address and two phone numbers of a “gite” and you were advised to bring a sleeping bag.
“It will not be a posh one!” I thought as tried a call.
First number … a bl..y answering machine !!I tried the second number…the same bl..y thing !!! I was giving up as the phone answerd!!! Choked with surprise I wrapped my feet around my bag and my sticks as I realised somebody was answering and I grabbed the phone
“ Yes I have a place for you Its not far only 5 km"
“I'm on my feet!!!!”
“Oh No problem I can collect you later. Are you at the post office ? of course you are ! But I need one hour, I am shopping in Vitré ! How are you??”
I explained
“Well don’t move"
“Oh I'm not able to move anyway I will wait as long as you want!!!"
“Well go shopping though for your dinner, You will have a kitchen where you can cook. We meet in one hour OK? Bye!!”
I went to the super market on the corner and threw some stuff in a basket for my dinner and crawled back to the post office



Here I met her! She came as an old silver haired LADY, dressed in white
“ My name is Angele “she said and I believed her at once!!!!
And looking at me she began
“Where is that written that pilgrims have to die on their way? There are already enough pilgrims that have drowned into the bay!! You are almost collapsing my dear!! You have got heat stoke today. Have you had enough to drink on your way. Of course you have not. You urgently need a cup of tea and a cool room and a day for resting. I don’t allow you to leave tomorrow you MUST rest!!! I will arrange a lift for you, hurry up! I am late the cows are hungry"
Silently I put my bag on my back and strolled behind her to her car …..I knew I was saved!! And her constant moaning sounded in my ears like the singing of an angel
Arriving at her home she put on an old overall and gumboots and covered her silver halo and became and common farmer lass But I don’t let myself be fooled !!!!



Well hope you enjoyed Cathys story, who is next to send me a story
Abrazos
Michael