DAY 4 ALPRIATE

(My wife complains about my spelling. Take note English is my second language and spelling my third)

The pilgrims left early this morning, which gave me time to wander off to Vialonga, about two km' from here.

I passed an old church which was falling apart, but with a door and new door lock. This puzzled me. When the band stops playing and the priest's motivational speech had dried up, there is nothing more to do or say, you may just as well lock the door. Or as Yann Martel puts it: "Only song needs to soar in a church; anything fancier is human arrogance disguised as faith." (The high mountains of Portugal)

The easiest way to ask a person about their life is to ask about their tattoos. I have not yet met a person who was unwilling to speak about their lives written in symbols and words on their bodies.

In Barcelos I met Yorck(?) from East Germany. His body was covered in tattoos. On his arm, he had a quote from Stephen King: "A black man walked into the desert and a gunslinger followed." He explained that the book had a profound influence on his life. That evening we talked about East Germany under Soviet rule and the similarities with Apartheid South Africa. (He returned home the following day. After three days his feet were blood blistered.)

In Sintra I asked our waitress about the tattoo on her arm. If I understood the Hindi translation correctly, it means "godly". She could not explain in English what it meant to her. I understood it from my perspective, as St Augustine puts it: "God became man so that man can become god again." (See Ps 8)

After a quiet day, two girls from Italy arrived at about 17:30. I immediately noticed all Francescas tattoos, not to mention all the other symbols. On her head: "Wisdom is inside". The one that gets my attention, however, is on the inside of her arm: "And if I only could, I'd make a deal with god, And I'd get him to swap our places" She got the tattoo during a bad stage in her life.

They asked me if I needed anything from the shop. Although I insisted that I am fine, they brought me a watermelon. They then went for ice cream, "Are you sure we cannot get you an ice cream?"

They ask me what I do during the day. I explain my ritual: Get up with the first pilgrims and see them off, wait for the last one to leave, shower, have breakfast, clean the albergue, study the rule of St Benedict, meditate, go for coffee and wifi, go to the supermarket (depending on time, walk around), have a beer, make a sandwich for lunch, get everything ready for the first pilgrims to arrive at 14:00, read. Supper is either self-prepared or at Maria Jose at the bar.

I miss my wife and children. I watch the neighbors across from the albergue light a fire for a late Sunday braai. I long for our family fellowship around our braai. But, it is also good to be here. The journey inwards is not over yet.

"Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.." Isaiah 49:16