I wake up everymorning wondering what will this day bring and who will I meet.
The village is so small that I start to get to know the routine of the people living around the square. The old man in his electric scooter had a stroke. He has a distinct sounding horn attached to the handlebars. He blows his horn in the morning to tell his friends he is ready for the day's conversation. They will move around the square to stay in the shade all day long.
Yesterday, after I had supper they called me over. They were outside having soup and bread, do I want some? I explained that I have eaten already.
When I was a young boy, we stayed in Cameron steet no 7, Georginia. There was a small shopping centre in our neigborhood. Mr Zachanowich, a Jew, was the pharmacist. The greengrocers were Portugues, the Greek had the cafee. I never knew their surnames. The were just the Portugues and the Greek.
The Portugeus family lived in 5 Ave just around the corner from the cafe and butcher (whom I cannot recall at all). They had a big vine growing in their driveway that almost functioned as a carport. The Portugeus women always had an apron on over her clothes. It seemed as if the whole family worked there, but Mrs Greengrocer always looked content.
These memories came flooding back the past few days. Maria Jose working in the cafe bar wears that same apron (I am sure it must be the same one as Mrs Greengrocer used to wear!). Maria Jose always looks content and she is always serving the customers with content.
Last night I went to eat at the cafe. Maria asks me if I would like fish, beef or pork chops. I decided on the pork. She brings me the bottle of wine that I did not finish the other night! The food is prepared fresh, therefor only the three choices, the potatoes are peeled and sliced to make the chips (no chip looks the same) and the food is served on platters so that you can dish up yourself.
I write Maria a note on Google translate: "Thank you for the food. It reminds me of my mother's home cooking, I enjoy it." When I want to pay, she says I must wait a few minutes. I quickly go and check if the German girl who arrived at the albergue, is ok.
I went back to the cafe, but before I can show her the Google note, Maria passes me a handwritten note that someone translated for her: "When you want to eat more elaborate things - rabbit, chicken??, etc tell me in advance. Dinner today I offer you. I am sorry to be so but what ?? get way to talk with you." I want to pay, but she insists that I do not pay. I show her my note. She is grateful, I hug her and tell her the Wednesday I will come for the rabbit!
Back at the albergue Karla is studying the guide book that she bought from me on my recommendation (We sell guidebooks because firts time pilgrims think they can walk with Google maps or good luck).
She is 18 and still in school. She looks 15. "Your parents are ok with you walking the Camino by yourself?" Her mother walked the Camino and suggested she also does it. She wants to see Portugal and chose this route. She does rock climbing as a sport.
I am amazed at this young girl. So much guts and determination, but I am also a bit worried about her. Last night I got the impression that she did not want to go and sleep. I tried to give her as much advice on the camino as possible. I explained how the guidebook works, how to read the maps and at the end to just enjoy it. This morning she only left at eight, as if she could not get going. I wished her a Buen Camino and she was off.
And now a new day begins. The man in the scooter is calling his friends. What will the day bring?
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