My Camino Experience

Image | July 11, 2014July 11, 2014 | Suzanne Edminster at Saltworkstudio

I´m heading out of this gorgeous station in Porto, Portugal to catch an overnight train to Madrid, a sleeper. I can count on the fingers of one hand my overnight trains– once to Paris, once to Cochin in South India, and now once to Madrid. There is always a romance to it, even if it´s just a little sleeping berth. I want to wind up my Camino posts to you. I am not really sure I can answer all your questions. The ones about art and change will have to play out in the future.

I talked for a long time to Koos, a South African now living in Switzerland. He hiked from Geneva to Logrono, Spain… 1200 km? A long way, anyway. He did not finish the Camino in a classical sense, yet I was struck by our similarities in experience.

What I want to say to you is this. On the Camino, every day is like a world. Koos and I both had the experience of worlds of thought and contemplation opening through the walking. I see each day of the Camino like a drop of clear water teeming with event, yet magnifying a certain aspect of thought. Connections are made. You are walking in nature, so it´s healthy; beauty and your physical movement work together to support you. Only connect. It´s better, for me, than writing in a notenook or talking to someone.

It´s as if you walk further into your purpose. We lack the time for contemplation in our lives. Walking is one way to give that time back. I believe it makes a difference that we name it a pilgrimage, and to do it for a month or more. The historical and religious resonance supports us and makes it sacred. Everyone gets something different according to their needs; my insights might interest you, but they won´t be yours.

I´m winding up my trip now and may not write again, but I may store away some impressions for you from the Prado. I doubt I can walk through the world´s great museums as gracefully as I did through the days of the Camino, but I can try.

We both had the experience of childhood memories comin g up. Thereºs time to really think about them. You are supported by the activity, so the deep emotions can come up and go through you as you walk. Many people report memories. And you slowly have the chance to observe how you order your world, to take little signs and signals from nature, or from the Great Mind, or God.

My next door neighbor Neil is walking the Pacific Crest Trail for five months. I wonder if the experience is similar?

We both carried with us a list of three goals. They are private: I won´t share them with you, and he didn´t share his with me. Slowly, as you carry these things with you as you might an object in your backpack, they may transform. New metaphors, meanings, and interpretations of your life occur, all within the great open book of nature.

I think it´s important that we name it a pilgrimage. ^The historical and religious resonances support us and gives it a lovely weight. And it´s important to go for a month or more.

I went with the love, support, and daily Facetime conversations with my husband Scott. Scott, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support.

Thank you to my readers and those who have responded. You are part of my proof of a gloriously generous universe. Suzanne

Camino Questions, Part One

July 10, 2014 | Suzanne Edminster at Saltworkstudio

I think I opened Pandora´s box when I asked for questions! Here we go. I´m loving Porto… parts of it remind me of Naples. And it´s warm, so to sit out on the roof terrace at night, surrounded by lights, is a great pleasure. The first photo in the post is from the terrace at night; I´ve enjoyed three nights of this.

Was there anything you would have done differently to prepare for the Camino?

I think I was okay with my prep. I started training in January for a June departure. The best thing I did was to learn how to use trekking poles properly. This sounds simple, but it´s not intuitive. Though I´ve had an ACL operation on my left knee, and my ankles are vulnerable, I had no trouble at all with joints or muscles. I used little leather kayaking fingerless gloves with the poles and that enabled me to use the pole straps easily and well. I saw a lot of people using two poles improperly. Don’t bother to buy them right before your trip. If you don´t practice with them so you are comfortable, it will provide no benefit. In the future I would BRING A SMALLER PACK. I found that my 45 liter plus pack was on the large side. Everyone always brings too much gear and has to leave some behind. I was so jealous of people with smaller packs. Mine, however, was smaller than some. Don´t go for superlight weight at the expense of comfort. Do not bring anything that is the slightest bit uncomfortable. Don´t bring dressup clothes… you won´t use them, not even a skirt. Buy something new when the Camino is over. Ladies, one nice scarf, one pair of earrings (I broke two pairs underway) or your one piece of jewelry, and a lipstick or eyeliner will make you feel like a queen.

The best things I brought was my iphone, a Joby Gorilla bendy tripod with a phone holder, and a full-sized Brookstone folding wireless keyboard. I didn’t need an ipad with this setup, and I didn’t need a camera. It also made strangers come up to me all the time and take notes on the setup! I brought a semilarge sketchbook and was happy with that, a small set of watercolors. I liked having a sarong along as a towel, privacy shield, scarf, skirt, blanket, picnic blanket, and so on. Many Europeans carry a smaller pack and a larger waistpack. I used a larger moneybelt in front, under my shirt for easy access, for passport, credit cards, cash and phone. You may not like the look of a waistpack, but they are secure and very practical. Don´t carry your phone in your pocket, loose. Zip it away routinely somewhere.

Hey folks, the Camino is COLD in the summer. Bring an extra layer. I would bring a light Merino wool top and leggings…. spiffy long underwear… at any season. I only brought one pair of pants and the leggings… worked well. By cold, I mean in the 40s and 50s. Even if you don´t use them in the warmer parts, you will in the mountains and Galicia. To really prep, you have to hike a lot with your pack and your boots, with a fully loaded pack and poles. By the way, I wore runners, and did okay, but I wish I had taken boots. This was not necessarily for ankle support, but because parts of the trail are quite rough and stony underfoot.I felt I had to be careful as I walked of the bottoms of my feet. But you have to decide for yourself. I had two blisters once, then not one other the whole trip.

BRING A GOOD PAIR OF WALKING SANDALS as your alternates. I took adjustable Tevas. Don´t bring flipflops… I met at least 4 people who threw them out and had to buy better sandals in Spain, because your feet swell and can need pampering and support after walking. I also enjoyed having a somewhat hardier daypack than the ultra super flimsy ones… I got a packable one by Eagle Creek. Also, all the Europeans have little ultralight synthetic sleeping bags that pack to the size of a liter of water. They are not common here, but my Marmot nanowave 55 was quite similar. Your sleeping bag should weigh under two pounds. If you are older, or a larger person, your pack will be bigger. I bought an Altus poncho, which is a raincoat with a hump in the back that goes over your pack, in Spain, and I loved it. They are not made commonly in the USA yet. You can buy an Altus and a sleeping bag in Europe before you start.

Take MORE TIME and more money than you think you need. This is standard travel advice, of course, but be willing to be flexible with what your ideas are for the Camino. You probably will want to or have to change plans. I didnºt reserve anywhere and was glad. You can always use booking.com a couple of days before. Walk at your own pace. You´ll see folks doing 40 or even 50 kilometers a day. Let them. Use your smarts and intuition to tell you where to start and end.

Is it better to go alone or with another? It depends, of course, but I have so say that for sheer contemplative time, going alone is great. You have to be in tune with your hiking partner. Many women go alone. It is just interesting to go alone with your thoughts and your conversations with the Beyond. It is very safe for women, especially if you are not in the first bloom of youth. Apples and oranges, alone or together: It´s your Camino. Most useful gear: a set of around 8 large safety pins to use as clothespins, and an elastic travel washline. You need the pins to keep your clothes on the line when thery´re hanging out a third story window or whipping around in an alpine wind, and you can use the pins to pin the still damp clothes to the outside of your pack. I prefer thick hiking socks and they take a long time to dry. I took a small shred of beatup towel to use first to dry my body, then throw on the slippery floor to stand on. All the showers are tile and tend to be dangerously slippery. I carried a regular old bandana everywhere and used it for so many things. Often bathrooms have no soap or paper towels.

Mentally or emotionally, what would I have left behind? It´s easy to whip out pat answers to this one. You need a lot of patience with yourself and others, and to leave judgement of yourself or others behind. I saw a lot of folks get into trouble with a competitive feeling, especially when you´re older and less fit and comparing yourself to athletic youngsters. But I will rant a bit about an attitude that caused me personal problems. This may not sound very spiritual. I wish I could say something more enlightened-sounding.

The thing that caused me big trouble was taking a tourist approach to Camino lodging rather than a pilgrim approach. The pilgrim approach is to take what is there, be grateful for shelter and company, and to laugh off any problems the next day. After all, it´s only one night. You don´t have to rush or reserve or prefer or angle to choose a better place. You know God is taking care of you: trust.

The tourist approach is to read ahead, to plan, to try to figure out what might be the best place. Of course, you want to stay somewhere that is not horrible. But most hostels are fine. I found that when I tried to pre-read, angle, plan, or consider reserving, it did not do me any good at all. Rather, the opposite occurred: I became critical, pissy, and discontent with what I got.

I am not even sure planning has that much to do with it. I am sitting here in an exsquisite townhouse hostel, a Porto villa from the 1800s, and I am only here because it was the only one that kept popping up on Booking.com, not among my first choices. I personally wish I could have left this demanding, deserving, entitled feeling behind. As a pilgrim, you take what is there, and you are SO HAPPY just to stop walking. My worst mental problems came from confusing being a pilgrim with the comforts of 21st century tourism. True hospitality is so simple.

Left Behind

Image | July 8, 2014July 11, 2014 | Suzanne Edminster at Saltworkstudio

Here in Porto, Portugal, I´m sitting in a beautiful hostel, a real hostel this time, that has won many prizes. It´s in a renovated townhouse in the center of old Porto: high French windows in each room, billowing white curtains, views of the port and river. I am in a woman´s dorm of six, and am about to go upstairs to a breakfast, up the old wooden stairs to the rooftop kitchen area. Once again, I feel like I am borne along on some gentle river of right place, right time. And there´s a computer that seems to work.

I left things behind, and lost things, on this trip. Let´s start with the physical. That pack is your home, and when things are lost or stolen, the shock is disproportionate. I lost three items, probably because I left them behind~~ sarong, prescription sunglasses, and a pair of underwear.

This whole trip I have been experimenting with flow. I decided that when things went wrong, that was a signal to stop and do something else, in other words, to actually change something. I think it was Einstein that said you can´t solve problems on the level they were created, but have to step outside them to another place. This loss of items sounds laughable when I list it, but these losses caused my stomach to lurch. In the damp weather, having only two pairs of underwear left me no margin of error for drying them. The sarong was my security item~~ scarf, pillowcase, bedcover, blanket, modesty while changing, and a curtain for my bunk if I wanted privacy. Oh, and it was my towel too. And sunglasses.

When I encountered bad events, feelings, and bad days, I had the time to do a few existential experiments. My idea was that if things were going wrong, or I was freaked out, I could change my ideas and plans to something that felt better. This sounds so simple, but often in life we are bent on a course. If you have an awful work day, you stay at work and tough it out. But I didn´t have to do that here.

So when I lost things, or became fearful of hiking alone in the green, dripping Galician woods, I could read these as gentle nudges to change plans. It worked well. When I got an infected blister, it gave me two days in a hotel room to reconsider how I approached the walk. I think one reason my walk was so wonderful is that I let painful signs actually give me a message to change, and I could act on them.

I also had some bad dreams on the Camino. I think that we brush through layers of religion, history, blood and war when we walk through these places. The cathedrals are full of blood, bones, skulls, body parts, and monsters, the gargoyles. When you start to align yourself with the good, I think the shadow can be activated. I am used to this. I often have bad dreams when I start innovative creative projects. When you step outside your comfort zone, your subconcious mind knows it. There is often a kickback, like firing a gun. I believe all dreams are meant to help us, and are messages, so I don´t worry as much about uncomfortable dreams as I used to.

The Camino is a metaphor. How wonderful to leave things behind! I could leave the dream in a church, or at a tree, or in a cafe, and hike on. All of life is a process of leaving things behind. We can read that as loss, or a new chance. I did my final leaving behind of deep things at the alter of St. James. I left behind the same things the ancients did: old wounds and sins and temptations, atonement. I feel like I literally left them behind for the saint, or history, or nature, or God, to return to the cycle of the universe. We leave things behind and face the new day freer.

By the way, after I started this post, I found my blue sarong in a ball in the bottom of my pack! My friend returned! Ah, synchronicity. Go figure.

Camino de Santiago: Money, Time, Distance

Image | July 8, 2014July 8, 2014 | Suzanne Edminster at Saltworkstudio

Several people have asked me to comment on some of the practical aspects of my June-July 2014 Camino. I must emphasize that these are my opinions only, and that many will disagree. There are many available sources to use to form your own opinion.

Money: from California estimate $1500 or more for a round trip ticket, $300 more for travel in Spain (train, bus, taxi). For a 40 day trip, I would budget $60 a day…. around 40 Euros. This is high, but you will want the occasional hotel and dinner out. That makes $2400 + 1800 = $4200. You may also spend 300-500 on the right pack, shoes, small sleeping bag. Make sure you have a good working credit and debit card. Credit Unions have far lower fees than regular banks for withdrawing cash or using credit cards abroad, so get set up with a credit union. You can of course spend less daily. I often relied on a tomato salad with bread and tuna , fruit on the side, that I made in a hostel kitchen.

Time: I would give it at least 40 days for the whole thing. The Brierley guide is excellent, but if you want to stop to smell the roses, I would walk two days for each of his stages. Choose shorter stages, or choose a portion of the route to walk.

Distance: If you were backpacking in the Sierra, you probably would not walk 15 miles a day. Unless you are sure you can do it, 30 km a day is a long, long way. I saw many people injured and ill from trying to do too much. Also, starting in the Pyranees seems to me to be a point where many people injure themselves or get ill. Go shorter distances, start very very slowly, and WALK AT YOUR OWN PACE. This may not fit the guidebooks. I must emphasize that it is crucial you do everything you can to remain healthy. I saw so many people almost punishing themselves, and harming their bodies, on this trip, pushing on when they should have stopped.

You get a Compostella for walking the last 100 km into Santiago, starting in Sarria. So thousands of people, and schoolchildren, choose this route because it is the easiest way to the document. The path is very crowded and is a very different vibe than other parts of the Camino. That is the rule of the Catholic Church– walk the last one hundred. The Camino is far more than the document. You might consider an alternative route and skip the Compostela. God will understand.

The Inner Camino

Image | July 7, 2014July 8, 2014 | Suzanne Edminster at Saltworkstudio

I’m sitting here in the Santiago bus station, waiting for the express bus to Portugal. I thought I’d take a moment to share with you some thoughts about my Camino. I made a list of reasons to walk before I left, and reflected on them as I walked. But I’m one of the lucky ones. Two of the main reasons I walked were out of gratitude for my beautiful life, and for enjoyment.

People walk for many reasons. Many are in the midst of personal catastrophe, change, or deep loss. I met a woman who, in the midst of recurring cancers, was left by her husband for another woman. She had never been alone in her life, having married young. Her pain was tangible, but walking seemed to be keeping her positive in a way nothing else could. She said in amazement, “I still have my life. ” Another man carried the picture of his wife on the back of his pack. She passed away a few days before their 50th wedding anniversary. He was walking joyously in her honor. Several people were carrying remains of loved ones with them.

This post has now crashed twice on me, and I’ve lost blocks of writing. But I’ll try one more time to continue.

Dear readers, could you help me out by posting questions in the comments column? I am feeling like Someone doesn’t want me to write right now. According to my experimental theory of staying in the flow, this means I should stop writing and do something else. Go ahead, ask me any question you are curious about: packing list, physical aspects, emotional questions. Be personal. I’ll answer everything in the next post, and share more about my inner Camino. Please help me out, and I’ll answer all in the next post. Buen Camino, Suzanne

Greetings from the End of the World

Image | July 6, 2014July 8, 2014 | Suzanne Edminster at Saltworkstudio

I’m writing you from my favorite cafe at the end of the world, a cheery place to counteract all the endings. Seagulls shriek, cry, bark, howl, meow, and moan; I’ve never heard anything like it, all day and all night. A person with too much imagination could easily hear them as the souls of the damned, wailing before they are carried away. Did I mention that Finisterre is built on a graveyard? Hey, I watch movies: I know what happens when you build on burial sites. Or maybe only Americans notice.

Continue reading →

Ghost Cafes and Silver UFOs

Image | July 4, 2014July 8, 2014 | Suzanne Edminster at Saltworkstudio

I can hear the shriek of seagulls outside in the pre-dawn light as I sit writing to you from the ghost cafe in Santiago. It’s a very ephemeral city, forbidding when cold and grey, a huge party town with people from all over the world when sunlit, and everyone, everyone, with strong legs and a look of relief.

The cafe is actually part of the wonderful Hostal Susa. Hostals in Spain are not youth hostels or albergues, but rather grouped with pensiones or lower-priced hotels. I have a tiny, immaculate room with a bathroom in the middle of the old town of Santiago for 20 euros a night… the lowest price yet. There is a bar-cafe attached to the hostal, but visually blocked and closed off from the street. It is only accessible if you have a room, yet two people work there. Dishes are washed, but there is nothing but coffee and scanty, used-up bottles of liquor on the shelf… if you can get in. There is a menu, but when I picked it up, the barman, with a look of alarm on his face, asked me to put it down, as nothing on the menu was available. And yet, I sit here writing to you, with the magic of Spain tolerating me..

I realize I am skipping the days before my arrival in Santiago. I’ll share that in another post. I arrived on July 3, but saved my entry into the Cathedral until 7AM the next day, to avoid the crowds. The seagulls were shrieking and it was raining, with the echo of a Galician bagpipe filling the square.
Every pilgrim is supposed to do 4 things, more or less in order. The first is to admire the portal with the Tree of Jesse, designed by the master artist/architect, Master Matteo. There are so many portals to the Cathedral that I had no idea which one that was. Then you enter the vast, new universe of space that is the cathedral. They actually designed it to be a Cathedral of Stars, for Compostella, field of stars. That’s the positive reading. It was really built on an ancient Roman cemetery . Anyway, it is about the transition into other worlds, whether the starry Way or the passages of death.
In the old days you could walk up to the Saint and touch his feet. That is no longer allowed, to preserve the sacred marble. Personally, I think that to touch the place where millions have touched with a full heart is worth a lot more than the sculpture.
It’s an amazing place. So much of the gothic stonework was painted in the old days, but for some reason the paint is never restored. I know from illuminated manuscripts how vivid the pigments were. Yet the original paint is faded and almost gone, increasing the forbidding aspect of the cathedral.
So now I have not been able to do two out of the four things that pilgrims traditionally did. On to number three. This was news to me, but apparently there is actually a chance to touch your forehead to the head of an image of Master Matteo in order to receive divine artistic inspiration! Bring it on, said I. So I set out to search for Master Mateo.
But I couldn’t find him, lost in the echoing dampness of the Cathedral. It’s dark in there on a rainy morning.
Then God intervened. A German woman cathedral docent approached me and asked in German if I needed help. Apparently there is a mass in German in a side chapel at 7:30 and she thought I was looking for that. She spoke no English, but I could use my German to ask for the location of Master Matteo.
One of the towers is under renovation. You can see it here. I had hardly noticed, as any Gothic cathedral has so many towers that having a couple of spares is not a problem.

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So I went under the draped tower and there, barricaded in darkness, was Master Matteo, a delightful, lovingly executed sculpture around 4 feet high, just right for the shorter midieval pilgrim to lean over and get some forehead inspiration. But there were iron barricades and almost total darkness. So I asked myself, what would Matteo do ? He would find a creative solution.
First I used my bendy tripod and a low light program to take a picture of him. But I couldn’t stand being so close to him and not touching him. I reached out my arm, and I swear I was within an inch of touching him, but no dice. Time for another plan. You are talking to a woman who actually managed to take rubbings from Assyrian bas-reliefs under the noses of the guards in the British Museum. This was not going to stop me.
I checked the area and no one was around so I stepped through the first layer of iron bar barricades. I was close enough then to press my hand against his forehead. I left it there for awhile until the cold of the stone seeped in, then pressed my hand to my forehead. I could swear the Master smiled.

Part of the deal was to draw him as well, so this is my journal page.

The last of the four items is to visit the silver box full of bones, and say your prayers. So I did.
My timing has been so good… I found out from Severin, the Swiss colossus youth who always knows everything, that every Friday night they have a mass where they swing the giant incense holder. The Botafumerio is an icon of the pilgrimage, and you also saw it in the film The Way. So I went 1 1/2 hours early to get a place in a pew underneath the action, having learned from Christmas in Rome that you don’t fool around with the big masses if you want to get a seat. The timing was good…. the Cathedral filled with around 1200 people. They don’t swing the thing every day.
You have to wait through the whole Mass to get to the good part– the Catholic Church knows how to keep people in their seats. They are firm. “Silencio! Silencio!” But finally the B.F. is lowered. Up there in the vast cathedral space it looks around 2 feet high. Then it is lowered and you see that it is bigger than a man. They pour coals into it and heap on the incense, then raise it and begin a controlled swing over your heads.
What the films can’t show you is that it is on fire, sparkling with red flame from the bottom, and emitting these giant clouds of sweet smelling smoke: copal and frankincense, if I’m not mistaken. It’s just the most joyful thing to be under… you instinctively duck as it goes over your head. Everyone was smiling and laughing… you have never seen anything like it, and never will again. Talk about an unidentified flying object!
I’m always glad to leave the church… I felt like a ginormous golden Baroque angel was glaring at me through one eye. I wish we could skip the Baroque decoration and just take the music. This photo gives an idea of how full the church was.

I feel full, happy, and yes, blessed by the Cathedral. The seagull shrieks are calling me on to the coast, so I’m hopping a bus to Finisterrae, the end of the ancient world. Many consider it to be the natural, prehistoric end of the Way. The two workers in Ghost Cafe have spent the last hours reading the newspaper, and I, the only customer, am ready to pay up and get on the road. I’ll write you from the Atlantic coast, and I’ll tell you more of the saga of my journey.
Santiago is like a goth girl, full of spikes and jewelry and Celtic signs, very emo, and tattooed with the marks of millions of pilgrims. I leave her now, but will probably return. Buen Camino, Suzanne

Beautiful, Eerie Galicia

Image | July 2, 2014July 8, 2014 | Suzanne Edminster at Saltworkstudio

Since I last wrote you, I’ve been on the road for four days in the manure-pungent hobbit-land of Galicia. In spite of the thousand years of Camino passing through, it is still remote, with stone houses topped with grey slate roofs, a lot of mossy rock. The photo above is of tombs, many decorated with the twin towers of Santiago: the tomb as a cathedral, which Santiago is. Created around the dubious bones of a discovered saint, and on the site of old Roman cemeteries, there is more than a bit of death built in to the pilgrimage. But nature redeems the melancholy at times. It is spectacular here.

I am mostly walking through green tunnels. I discovered yesterday that I could make it rain on me, even when it wasn’t raining. As I passed under certain trees, a pattering would start, as if the tree was raining only for me. It was strange and delightful. Often no drops would fall on me, but water was clearly dropping in a delightful way. I experimented and found out that my footsteps and two walking sticks were enough to send an imperceptible signal through the roots up into the branches. I could feel myself enclosed in a delicate, quivering bubble of green world, where I felt the reality that a flap of a butterfly’s wing can start a chain reaction… viscerally felt it. This tree language felt communicative and magical, as if the trees were greeting me.

On the other hand, some trees really scared me. They seemed positively threatening, especially this one with the pentangle hung in the branches and piles of salt at the roots. Witches are common here in Galicia, and with due respect to nature worship, I am not sure all of them are benificent. The Galicians would agree, even though they have shrunk their local witches into little cute souvenir dolls. This is the kind of tree that might grab you in these old-growth forests.

Misty mornings, cold– in the 50s– and often rain. I was walking through the forest and came on a little old lady selling raspberries and a beautiful fuschia colored raspberry liquor in a little bottle. She took me for five euros for a basket of strawberries and a small bottle of whatever that drink was. I don’t know if she was a good or bad witch… I suspect just mischievous. That was a hard day, over 15 kilometers and late in the day. I had to do some business for a morning in Sarria, the biggest city around. Travelers, do you remember how much time and energy it takes just to get into a new town and find an ATM and a store? I was buying a new pancho for the rain, one with sleeves and zipper, like a raincoat that can cover a backpack.

You know you’re doing real travel when the locals don’t really care that much about you. Though not pleasant, you can be sure that you are in the midst of true travel. There is a good tourist structure here and there in the woods though… adequate albergues. But some parts of the day I was just grateful to hear traffic somewhere, anywhere, or see another hiker. I am still hiking mostly by myself…wonderful for contemplation, but sometimes eerie in the green, stony world of Galicia.

Donkey and Company

Image | June 29, 2014July 1, 2014 | Suzanne Edminster at Saltworkstudio

This beautiful girl, Jenny, came all the way up the Le Puy route, over 60 days into her journey with her French master. They stayed at the country place because there was a stall for her and a couch for him. I told you it was the right kind of inn.

This hound would lay directly in front of the albergue entrance so you had to step over him to get in. Later I saw the three huge German shepherds roaming through the fog like spirits of wolves. I’m walking in fog and chill wind, but thankfully no rain. I am sitting in the first place in the mountains of Galicia that has weefee , so I can post a few pictures.

The fire, as a primal element, deserves its own photo.The owner would heap huge logs covered with moss and lichen into it, and urged us to dry our shoes in front of it. Here’s a travel tip: stuff old pages ripped out of your guidebook into your shoes to help dry them.

Beautiful brown cows make a beautiful fresh cheese with the consistency of soft tofu. A heap is served on a plate with a little compressed square of quince jam to eat it with. Delicious!

This is a beautiful 12th century virgin. She is the patroness of O Cebreiro, and her feast day is celebrated on my birthday. Since it is the custom to dress up many of the more doll-like virgins in costumes, I felt free to dress her up digitally, and a halo appeared. The landscape is just honeycombed with virgins, each dripping a blessing into a little village.

The thunderstorm that soaked me.

A sadly graffittied shrine to a virgin of the Camino. You can see the mural on one side and the defacing on the other. This was on my creepiest walk, right in the middle of the day. I saw only vandalism and violation and not one other person, either caminante or citizen. It was during the siesta apocalypse outside Ponferrada. Suburbs are the scariest walking of all.

<img src=”https://saltworkstudio.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/20140629-091934-33574463.jpg” alt=”20140629-091934-33574463.jpg” class=”alignnone size-full” />This isn’t my sketchbook, but an image from the Templar Library. I was struck by the ancient illuminations. They have a dream-like quality. These illuminated manuscripts must be the most beautiful books ever made.
Have to get back on the trail now. Suzanne

Saltworkstudio | Suzanne Edminster

abstraction

Author: Suzanne Edminster at Saltworkstudio