I was sitting in a restaurant this week, waiting for friends to arrive and half watching the giant TVs overhead, when a report on a bull jumping a fence in Spain caught my attention. Perhaps you’ve seen it? During a festival in Caparroso, Navarre, a bull released into a ring made a mad dash forContinue reading “A Night at the Bullring”
The photos last week caught my attention. The chapel, covered in snow. The lone pilgrim, covered in a poncho but soldiering on. I knew this place, and the people who guarded pilgrims along this stretch of road. Although when I’d passed by, the sky was grey and full of rain, not snow. From Walking toContinue reading “The Abbey”
Twelve kilometers after Pamplona, past the fields of grasses splashed with red poppies (or the fields of dry dirt, depending on the time of year), the crumbling monasteries, and the towering hay bales, and up a steep set of switchbacks, the Camino Frances arrives at Alto de Perdón, the Mount of Forgiveness. I’ve stoodContinue reading “The Surprising Story Behind the Sculpture on Alto del Perdón”
It was a warm, sunny day in May when we walked into Puente La Reina. As we approached the town, something caught my attention. “What is that on top of the chimney tower? It looks like a…nest? But that would be huge!” It was a nest, and it was huge. And if I looked really,Continue reading “Storks in Strange Places”
The wine fountain is one of those things you hear about from other pilgrims, and that’s mentioned in all the books. I knew it was coming, but I was still surprised when we came across it just after eight o’clock in the morning.
It was like your grandmother’s overcrowded knic-knack cabinet, where everything from the antique china to the snow globe she bought in Vegas is crammed onto a shelf and threatening to topple out at any minute.