My Pilgrimage: El Camino de Santiago de Compostela

Last week I completed one hundred miles of the El Camino de Santiago (St. James) de Compostela (campo de estrellas, or “field of stars”). It's called a pilgrimage instead of a hike and millions of pilgrims have completed this journey in the past eight hundred years from various paths near Spain.  Many hike the nearly five hundred miles, starting in France. I heard of this hike while watching the Martin Sheen movie, "The Way". I was intrigued to see if my experience would be similar to the character in the movie. It was a bucket list item for me when I couldn't quit thinking about it after watching the movie. I decided to start in Leon to hike to the Cruz de Ferro (Iron cross) and then commence in O'Cebreiro on a continuous path to Santiago.

I trained for the physical work of hiking one hundred miles by hiking several days in a row of ten plus miles. Was it going to be just a walk in nature or maybe more? I thought I would be doing some thinking in my head, spending time sorting out the big questions in life and try to figure out what comes next for me as I leave Europe. I spent little time prepping for the soul work that I was hoping for,  just noting that I would try to spend mornings alone on the trail and then socialize in the afternoon. I had very little expectations about it.

I also spent much time thinking of what to take with me. I packed

hiking sticks, rain wear, sunhat, hiking clothes, a Camelbak backpack, a number of pairs of socks. I figured out that I could hand wash my hiking clothes every other day in the sink, counting on the quick-dry feature to get me through. I pondered what this pilgrimage really meant to me as I was packing and figuring out what to take in my small bag for the two-week trip. I remembered to take stones with me to leave at the Iron cross. I took three of them for each of my children to ask a blessing for them at the end of the first day at the foot of the cross.

And then off I went. I met my friend Lonna from Texas at the Madrid airport and we got settled in our Madrid hotel where we would meet our group the next day to start.
Our trip was arranged with a company called Fresco Tours (Fresco Tours). They found old Spanish inns and monasteries for us to stay in so that we could avoid the albergues - essentially hostels - along the way. They carried our packs from place to place, requiring that we only carry what we needed for the day. They also provided our meals along the way, making it easy for us to just hike. (I would enthusiasistically recommend Fresco - the service, the hotels, and food were well beyond what I expected).

I met my pilgrim family at the breakfast of our first day. I found out quickly that there were a couple of people from Portland, two from Canada, one from Australia, two from New York, two Southern belles from Louisiana, two from California, and four from Texas. There were three attorneys in the group, a nurse anesthetist, a college administrator, an engineer, a judge, and many that were retired. There was a couple on their honeymoon and two other married couples among us. Everyone was well traveled and seemed to have a joy for life.

Through the discussion in the first few days, I also noticed that not all of group was religious. We started the hike with a mass in Leon at the Basilica San Isidoro and a blessing. The Pilgrim blessing in Jesus' name was "Be for them their companion on the way, their guide at the crossroads, their shelter on the road, their shade in the heat, their light in the darkness, their comfort in the weariness and their resolve in intentions. So that through your guidance they arrive sound at the end of their road, and enriched with grace and virtue, return home healthy and full of worthy virtues." Our group consisted of a Quaker, a couple of yogis, a handful of Catholics (or former Catholics), a southern baptist, some undisclosed denominations, and one person running from God.  But most were seekers of  something bigger or higher, though a few admitted that they were promised good food and drink and just wanted to get some exercise.

I  would have been more comfortable initially if we were all the same religion, coming
from a place where we all  knew the same basic doctrines and prayers. But the Camino provides (Thank you Kim V). It turns out that our differences enriched my soul-searching conversations with my fellow pilgrims. It stretched me to hear the person discuss their lives in a different soul language, often with the same meaning and quest that I had. I was inspired by their stories, their happiness, and life journey. It wasn't about a set or rules, but instead sharing the same questions and being open to the answers. We all had faith and we all experienced the grace of the trail. Each step forward removed me from the stress of the world and drew me more and more into the pilgrim family. I was hungry for a bigger perspective.

The Camino had a giant community of people from around the world and the trail demands that we support each other to answer some basic questions. Who am I? Why
am I here? What do I seek? Who shall I spend my days with? What can I give? And something on the trail breaks down barriers for important discussions in those life stories. People you didn't know before became open to knowing who you are and appreciating the journey you are on (on the Camino and in life). Compassion walked with us.

There were some rock stars on the trail. Our group was taken with Father Derrick, a VERY handsome priest from Ireland, who brought 48 members of his church to the trail to walk their spiritual journey. He had time to converse with whoever came upon his way, answering questions as he could and greeting pilgrims along the way. He was jovial and we looked for his group every day. One mate said he would consider turning Catholic if he could spend time with Father Derrick. I met a man from Maastricht  who started in the Netherlands and had been hiking for three and one-half months. He was very joyous to be so close to Santiago. There was a woman from Minnesota, who temporarily left her husband and five children to walk the whole path. Her husband and children were so proud. Two young girls were walking the wrong way, and I found they had already finished the Camino, but were staying two extra weeks to volunteer at an albergue to help other pilgrims.

There were some angels on the trail too, helping people negotiate stone bridge crossings, giving care to feet with blisters, and even aiding someone who experienced a heart attack. We helped each other with rain gear and lending out extra clothing for the cold.I passed a woman helping a blind man with a leg impairment walk slowly down a hill, negotiating steps treacherously so he wouldn't slip. I was lost one day, having turned wrong after a passport stamp and an older Spanish farm woman squawked at me to say "Camino" and point me in the right direction.  It turned into not just a leisurely walk - it was overflowing with what I was seeking. The Camino had the power to heal, to shift paradigms, to begin peaceful internal work. I examined my part in it.We all were fully present for each other, the biggest gift we had to offer. Step by Step: we could only see ahead 1 arrow at a time.  Step by Step we walked, sharing ourselves and giving out fully. It was the peaceful journey of soul work.

Some days I was alone. I lost the chatter that was usually in my mind
and the chatter of those behind me. I embraced the silence, and the sounds of the trail around me. The birds chirped, the pilgrim delighted, and the wind rustling in the eucalyptus trees drowned out the thoughts in my head. I had most of one day of hiking alone, along the mountain ridge looking out over the valley with fog, sun, the fields of cows waiting to be milked - just me and the path. My feet seemed to not even touch the pavement as I delighted in it. I was a novice, open to the experience and no expectation other than what was presented in the path before me.

I saw an arrow that was curved and seemed to tell me to turn around. I turned around. Then I saw a pair of arrows  curved together,  the head of one pointing to the tail of the other,  making a circle and I laughed as I thought I might be lost, perhaps the trails was telling me that I was. But I twirled in a circle and had not a care in the world. Soon others came along and we continued on our way.

I had some struggles on the path. I left a friend behind who was slower on the first day. I placed my stones at the cross and then found some water, my sandals to change into, and a seat on the bus. She arrived after the group had left and I examined my role as her friend and felt I let her down. Life always brings you to yourself, even if you deny it, hide from it, or make excuses. The Camino facilitated bringing that lesson to me and I learned from it. Everything that comes is part of the journey and magic happens. My God brought that to me. He wasn't out there somewhere, but inside my soul, helping make me what I was created to be, my divine DNA.

We finally reached Santiago and walking into the city as a group was a let-down. We reached our destination and emotionally we felt flat. They say the journey is the most important part. It's best measured in friends, rather than miles completed. Soulful utopic places are never on a map, are they?

 The next day, we toured the city and then entered the Cathedral
in Santiago to prepare for the Pilgrim mass. The mass was in Spanish and most of the group was not Catholic. At the end of the mass, the incense was lit in the large botafumeiro, the famous incense holder in the cathedral. The monks started the swinging and the botafumeiro swung from side to side in the large church as the pipe organ played the closing hymn spreading blessing as it swayed.  We ducked as it moved by us, wondering if this tradition was dangerous as it seemed. I felt filled as I celebrated this closing with my friends. We walked to the line behind the altar and climbed the steps to hug St. James as we looked out over the back of the altar. It doesn't get better than this.

When we arrive back home, we have the choice to stay on a pilgrimage. And how do we do that? I'm having a hard time assimilating my experience on the trail into my real life. Those days on the trail will stay with me forever. I feel changed. But we decide what to bring back with us. I have my certificate of completion of one-hundred miles with my Latin-ized name, my stamped passport, some souvenirs and many memories and photos. I also choose to bring back unconditional acceptance of the person I am and the journey I am taking. And I brought home my new pilgrim friends in my heart.

Iceland: No one place like this one

Iceland reminds me a bit of Alaska, a little bit of Colorado and a part of old Austin, Texas from twenty years ago. And so far, it's our favorite adventure of all of our recent travels. As Stephen Markley says “The problem with driving around Iceland is that you’re basically confronted by a new soul-enriching, breath-taking, life-affirming natural sight every five goddamn minutes. It’s totally exhausting.” We decided to pace ourselves and just take on part of the island. It was still beautifully exhausting.

We arrived in Reykjavik on a Saturday night. We shuttled into the city and checked into our rented house for the
week. It was formerly a rectory from the church next door - an old house with a bunch of character on a lazy street next to downtown Reykjavik. Our daughter Erin and her husband Seb had already arrived and unpacked after their 3 day hike in the middle of the country. They greeted us with hor d'oeuvres and drinks and photos of their hike. We relaxed that evening but couldn't wait to get started with the city the next day.

The weather was warm (for Iceland) as we hiked around Reykjavik. We walked to the harbour and easily found the Hofdi House - a historic place that is not open to the public. It was formerly a home of the French consul, then the British ambassador - until he moved out due to a ghost called "the white lady." Most importantly, this is the location when Reagan and Gorbachev met to try to dissolve the cold war in 1986. No agreement was made in 1986, but it was the start of talks between the two leaders which lead to the destruction of the Berlin wall. This house was ordered from a catalog in Norway. Iceland has very little timber therefore wood is not used in construction of buildings. We passed the many unique tourist shops and restaurants on our walk and the vibe of the city was vibrant, quirky, interesting, and friendly.

We came to the church that is a famous icon of Reykjavik - the Hallgrimskirkja. There was a wedding going on so visiting the inside of the church was not possible. We rode the elevator up to the tower to get a view of the city however. We also played with the mirrors outside
that resulted in some funny looking selfies. We walked back toward the harbour toward Harpa - the town's concert hall and convention center. We went crazy taking photos of this building, both inside and out. The angles of the glass gave us some fun photos. We
could find ourselves in the sections of glass the light reflection gave us some great photos. We noticed a large yacht off the coast near Harpa the music hall. Larry Ellison was parked out there and we saw his helicopter come and go. We bought tickets to Pearls of Iceland - a concert with original Icelandic songs and we relaxed for a bit while listening to the music. The language of Iceland sounded like Russian to me. Erin and Seb cooked dinner that evening in our house - Icelandic cod and a nice salad.

Monday we were to drive the famed Golden Circle, the 300km loop towards the center
of the island. We woke up to a call from the rental car company that "our car" had been involved in an accident the day before and we would be delayed by 3 - 4 hours to begin our drive. The sun doesn't set until 11:30 at night, so we were trying to be patient about our timing. Around 1pm we got our car and we drove to the  Thingvellir national park when the east and west continental plates meet. It's like a deep divide between the two sections of land. We hiked for a bit and then drove to Geysir. Geysir is the original geysor and is the namesake for all erupting hot springs. It was pretty reliable, spouting every five minutes or so. The action of the bubble before eruption was mesmorizing.
We continued to Gullfoss - the waterfall of all waterfalls. Since the sun was out, we experienced many rainbows there - we felt like we were wearing them in fact. We captured over 400 photos of our day's adventures.

We arrived back at 8pm and went to a restaurant that Erin and Seb had tried a few nights
earlier that is so hip it doesn't even have a name. It goes by it's address Hverfisgata 12 or "Pizza that has no name". There isn't a sign outside either exhibiting unique marketing. We entered and felt like we were in Austin, Texas. The staff was extremely helpful. I couldn't decide between the beet pizza or the Etruscan Elite with rocket and walnuts. The Etruscan pizza was amazing.

Tuesday was our day for a hike near Skogafoss - the tallest waterfall in Iceland. Erin and Seb decided on the 10 hour hike from Skogafoss across the glacier to Thorsmork. We opted for a shorter hike so we could take our time with photos and avoid the technical hike near the end. Our plan was a good one as we passed over 15 waterfalls in succession on the side of the volcano Eyjafjallajokull  that disrupted airplane travel five years ago. It's hard to describe the feeling that day as we hiked. It was "soul-enriching, breath-taking, life-affirming" for sure and made me emotional in appreciating
the opportunity to be there. We returned to the city to eat at Icelandic Bar, known for the fish and chips. The cod was the best I've had and the sweet potato fries substitute for the chips was a great choice. Erin and Seb arrived home around midnight from their hike and Paul walked downtown with Seb to grab a late night hot dog made of lamb at the stand near the harbour.

Wednesday was our day to indulge. As required, we bought our entrance
tickets to Blue Lagoon before we arrived. We showered naked before entering the hot mineral pool to adhere to the strict health requirements. I lathered up my hair in conditioner as well to keep the minerals from drying it out. Our entrance package gave us a drink, a mud pack and mask. The combination of warm mineral water, a glass of champagne, and our facial mask gave us an odd combination of giddiness, relaxation, and tranquility. What fun we had! We took a group photo of ourselves with our mud masks on. The minerals really do make your skin soft and the mud masks make you laugh at yourself. We had been afraid the experience might be too touristy at first, but later decided that it was one of our favorite days.

That evening, we had reservations at the world-renowned Dill restaurant. We discovered that the owners of Dill also owned the pizza restaurant we had eaten at a few nights before. We were finding the restaurant scene in Reykjavik  fairly remarkable. We knew it would be an expensive night, but we opted for the 7 course dinner with wine pairings (how often do you get to go to a famous restaurant, right?).
The first course was a pickled carrot sandwich.  It had cream cheese and caraway sandwiched between the two pieces of carrot - about the size of a dime.  Another course was a beet flower. The vegetarian version of that had tarragon seeds in the center with roasted yeast. The meat version had liver. The next course was a potato chip with toasted peppers with seaweed. My favorite course was the beet quinoa dish with cheese and lava salt. The dessert of burnt bay leaf ice cream was remarkable as well. The wine pairings were also varied, combining fermented beers and white and red wines to our delight. My body was treated to tastes and mineral immersions that day to both excite and soothe.

Considering the advice of friends who had visited Iceland, we decided to
undertake the 5 hour one-way drive to go visit Glacier Lagoon, locally called Jökulsárlón near the Vatnajökull National Park. The drive there was long but scenic. We saw many horse farms for which Iceland is famous. The horse there has a particular stride that is different than any other horse in the world. We were close to the coast several times but resisted stopping as the day would be long just to reach the lagoon. We had to gas up whenever we saw a station because there were not cities on this part of the island. We saw bright green mountains along our way. Then the terrain changed to barren tundra fields covered with volcanic ash and lava. In the distance, we could see the

glacier. Unexpectedly, we crossed a one-way bridge and the glacier was right before us. On the other side of the bridge was the Atlantic Ocean with chunks of glacier floating in it and covering the beach. We spent several hours taking in both sides of the highway, near the glacier itself and then near the lagoon with the beach. We ate our packed lunch on top of lava rocks over looking the ocean with chunks of ice breaking off and floating away as we ate. After we exhausted the photographers in the group, we headed back home with a couple of stops along the way near beaches that had rock formations, caves and the exotic puffins flying along the rocks. We arrived back in the city and quickly grabbed a bit to eat to finish the day.

Friday was our last day in Reykjavik. We were definitely not interested in getting back in the car after our travels the day before. We indulged in a brunch at the Coocoo's nest near the harbour in an area that we not previously visited.  Interestingly, a sign along the way pointed us to a Texas restaurant offering "Texasborgarar", which we assume were burgers. The Coocoo's Nest also screamed hipster, but it was low-key, organic, quirky and fresh. The homemade bread itself looked worth the visit alone. The music playing was blues and soul.  I had a salad with walnuts and cranberries with a piece of the homemade bread. The open faced sandwiches looked hearty and tasty. We left to walk off lunch and got lost on the way back. We came across a park filled with locals, mothers with children and older people feeding birds and sat and people watched for a while. We meandered home and relaxed for the afternoon.

Around five, we met Erin and Seb at Slippbarinn - a trendy bar in the lobby of the Austin-esque Marina Hotel prior to our dinner reservation at the GrillMarket - a place to celebrate our last night in Iceland. The cocktails were very creative and it was difficult to choose. I chose a Pippi Gonzales - tequila, dill, cucumber, lemon, and dill-infused olive oil. Paul chose the Borderline -  a stout liquor, vodka, cream and roasted hazelnuts. His drink was like dessert. They had several interesting drinks, including ones with bacon-infused brandy, birch,  and mezcal. The Grillmarket was close by.  Most of their menu items were grilled meats and fishes, but the sides were tasty for the vegetarians. Before we left, we toasted the adventurous week with our daughter and son-in-law, celebrating Iceland and it's beauty. We each commented on our favorite days and it was noteworthy to see that we all chose a different day's adventure.

Iceland Air allows travelers between Europe and the US to stopover at no additional cost on airfare. It is definitely a place to which I would return.There is no one place like this one.

Retracing Dad's Steps in Sicily - World War II

My sister and I, with our husbands, arrived in Sicily and immediately noticed the rugged ancient hilly environment. On the hillside, there were abandoned houses that looked to be about 1000 years old – literally. We drove from Catania airport to our base at the Hilton Resort in Giardini Naxos near Taormina, the eastern side of the Italian island. Our hotel view was of the Sicilian beach, but we immediately went to the other side of the hotel to view Mt. Etna. As my sister said, “Dad only said about seven words about his experience in WWII, and two of those words were Mt. Etna.”  We were now looking at what Dad saw when he arrived the beginning of August in 1943. We were to meet our guide the next morning to have him accompany us to the region where Dad fought, to see the terrain, if not the spot where Dad fought and was injured for the first of three times in the war. 

Dad’s march in Sicily - From After Action Reports July 31 - August 14, 1943. (WWII era photos from Robert Capa):

Dad had already served under Patton in Tunisia – arriving in North Africa April 13, 1943. After success in Tunisia, his Battalion left the port of  Mers El Keber – half way between Casablanca and Tunisia -  for Sicily  on July 29^th aboard the ship S.S. Orbiza They arrived in Palermo, Sicily late afternoon July 31^st.  It was too late to unload the ships so they stayed the night on the ship. At 4am, the next morning, German planes raided the harbor. The first attack was for 50 minutes and a second attack followed 15 minutes later lasting for 25 minutes.  Fortunately, no ships in the harbor were hit by German bombs.  Later that afternoon, the regiment disembarked and marched 15 miles southeast of Palermo to a bivouac area.

Starting at 11am, August 2^nd, the regiment moved by motors to an assembly area approximately 7 miles east of Nicosia, Sicily. The equipment arrived August 3^rd and the Regiment got ready for combat. After the officers reported to headquarters,  they were told that they were supposed to be on Mt. Pelato by late August 5^th or early August 6^th.  And their movement was supposed to be “with utmost secrecy”  so the Germans would be taken by surprise. They would move along the ridge line to the east and take the ground in the area of Mt Camalato. This would prevent the Germans from using the road between Cesaro and San Fratello, a major north-south passage. Afterwards, they were to take the town of Cesaro with the 47^th Infantry who was coming from Troina to Cesaro. To keep it secret, the movement of the troops would be at night. So during the night of August 3^rd,  the 2^nd Battalion moved to an area southeast of Capizzi., had four hours rest and then moved to north of Capizzi. A German detached patrol, estimated as a patrol, with pack mules was surprised when the leading element reached Mt Camelato. They fled, leaving their equipment, arms, and animals.

On the night of August 5^th, the 2^nd Battalion moved from their position following in the footsteps of the 1^st Battalion. They arrived northeast of Capizzi just after daylight on the morning of the 6^th after a very difficult night march over very rough terrain.  Dad was in Company E and was lead by Stephen Sprindis (who would later make a name for himself in Normandy). The 4^th Tabor Goums (French Moroccans) were attached to the Regiment and were directed to move to Piazza Tredicno with the mission of getting reconnaissance to the north and east of the regiment as it advanced. Also late on the 5^th, Anti-tank equipment moved into the area north of Capizzi. It was too difficult to get most of the equipment into the area so they reorganized into a “Pack Howitzer Company”.  They used mules from area towns to bring in what equipment they could. 

The night of August 6^th, the Battalions advanced with the 1^st leading the way, the 2^nd taking over where the 1^st had been and the 3^rd Battalion keeping the stronghold behind the 2^nd Battalion.  They fulfilled their mission of taking Mt. Pelato by the 6^th of August. 

The morning of the 7^th of August at 05:30, they were directed to seize Mt. Camelato and then join the 47^th Infantry and capture Cesaro – an area where Germans were concentrated as they fled the American troops. As movement began, there was contact with the enemy and there were heavy concentrations of mortar and artillery fire. To the rear of the 2^nd Battalion, there was an ambush by an enemy patrol estimated in number at approximately 30 men. The IV Tabor Goums returned to the area with 3 German prisoners. They found a considerable number of enemy on the forward slope. An artillery concentration was put in place and as soon as the artillery occupied its new position, the enemy was attacking. The enemy had excellent observation from the high ground to the northeast.  At 10:00 the 2^nd Battalion was ambushed by a strong German patrol and caused 5 casualties.

Due to heavy fire, 100 men from the 3^rd Battalion to the rear were used as litter bearers to evacuate all the wounded from the 1^st and 2^nd Battalions to the rear of the front lines using poles and blankets as improvised stretchers. There were 27 dead and over 100 wounded. It was difficult to extract the wounded and took until morning – about 12 hours - to get them all out over the difficult terrain.

Dad was one of the wounded from this day. He was hit in the leg and received a Purple Heart for his bravery. He was taken via ship to a hospital in England where he remained for 2 months to recover. Dad’s brother Harold visited him in the hospital and then sent Dad’s Purple Heart and the shrapnel from his leg to their parents to keep. Dad was returned to duty after he recovered. Another brother Frank also served in Sicily but managed to come out of that battle without injury.

The Germans were on the run and a week later on August 14^th, the American  troops reached Floresta, Sicily. Germans blew two bridges on their way out as well as mined and cratered the main road. The Germans had reached Messina on the coast to leave Sicily altogether. Some Italian soldiers left in towns surrendered without offering any opposition. This closed the Sicilian campaign as Mussolini surrendered and Germany lost Sicily.

Our Experience Following Dad’s Steps

Marcello, a native Sicilian, met us in our hotel lobby at 09:00 and we started by showing him the combat maps that we had of Dad’s Battalion during the weeks of August 1 – 8^th, 1943. Marcello was an archaeologist by trade but worked as a tour guide to supplement his income. He had some knowledge of Operation Husky and knew the area very well.

We asked him to start our tour in Capizzi, since that would be the closest town to where Dad fought. He immediately declined to take us there.  He essentially said that we would not be received well in the area for several reasons. First off, he said that by the time the battle took place, the Germans had already left Sicily for the most part. They left a few patrols to move around and shoot to make it look like there were many Germans left on the island. Secondly, Patton wanted glory so he came in and bombed the area (after the Germans had left) so that he would look good. The citizens in Troina and Capizzi met the US military with white flags out. Many Sicilian citizens told the soldiers and commanders that the Germans were gone – there was no need to bomb. Finally, Patton brought in mercenary soldiers called Tabor Goums (who were French Moroccans) according to Marcello. These soldiers went into Capizzi and ravaged the town, by murdering and beheading citizens, stealing and violating women and children.  Most people in Capizzi were still affected by WWII and he would not take us there. He also said it was a rugged part of the country infested with wild boars and was only reachable by foot using an abandoned rail road to get there. Besides, we would not have the vantage point to see the battleground from there.Our hopes were dashed - we would not be walking on the ground where Dad was injured as we did in France.

Marcello suggested that we go to Troina instead, a city that had a vantage point of the battlefield. Troina was settled in the 7^th century BC by the Greeks and there have been Roman baths discovered from the 4^th century BC.  This town was conquered by the Normans in 1061, led by Count Roger and  he established his residence in Troina, founded the monastery of San Basilio and the first Norman diocese in Sicily. (Marcello thought it was ironic that our Dad also served in Normandy, right after he served in a town settled by the Normans).

 
 We stopped about 30 minutes prior to reaching Troina to stop to take in the beauty of the area. The impact of the terrain was ominous as we thought of our Dad fighting near here. There were mountain villages that were built in the first few centuries and at the top of the mountains were caves and tunnels that were still in use. We shot some photos and climbed back in the car to visit Troina. Marcello mentioned that he would try to find older citizens in the area so that we could talk to them about what they remember and what it was like for them.

As we pulled into the city, we temporarily parked at a gas station and Marcello went across the street to the jeweler to inquire who might have knowledge of the war. I found a poster showing the citizens of Troina welcoming the US soldiers in 1943. Within a few minutes he came out and told us that he called the town historian Basilio Arona who immediately closed the doors to his shop and would arrive in minutes to show us around. He assured us that Sicilian people were always helpful and he knew that the whole town would help us find the information we wanted. Basilio arrived and we found that he knew no English so Marcello served as translator for our many questions. Basilio told us to get in our car and follow him to the base of the older part of town and we would take the bus up the mountain to view the hills northeast of Troina where the fighting took place. We parked our car by an 11 ^th century St. Augustin church and jumped on the city bus which took us to the top of the town. 

From this point, we could see the entire landscape of the Nebrodi National Park that served as the battleground during the war. Basilio inquired which unit our Dad was with and then proceeded to point out where the Germans were pocketed and how the battle progressed by day. By the recently-constructed dam was the area where 30 Germans were pocketed and shot freely at the US troops for 2 1/2 days while the rest of the German troops abandoned the area towards Cesaro.  The Germans used tunnels to store their weapons near Cerami, southwest of where we stood, and where more Germans were located. A bigger battle occurred there with hand to hand bayonet fighting involving US troops and Germans. Basilio pointed out Mt. Pelato and we recognized this name as the peak where Dad was wounded August 7th. Mt Pelato is in the hills to the right of the dam - the bald peak near the horizon mid-picture. That day, Mt Pelato was shadowed by a puffy cloud that stayed overhead, making it easy to identify which hill it was. We asked if they know how the injured were evacuated and they supposed they were taken out by their fellow soldiers or by mule over the top of the ridge to the port in Messina, though they could have been taken back to Nicosia to a bivouac area with road access to Palermo and waiting ships.

We followed Basilio through a neighborhood, into a building, and up some stairs to a museum that was being constructed. One room had costumes from medieval times. Another room had about 15 photos and newspaper articles from the 1940s and WWII maps of the Sicilian Campaign.  We were able to stay for a few more minutes before the museum closed for siesta hours. Basilio promised to send us copies of the photo set by Robert Capa.

 We walked back down the street to the base of the city to our car.  As we walked along, Basilio told us about various buildings along our walk. One wall remained from the 12th century. The Augustine church near our car had workers inside restoring the building. Basilio bought us a coffee and wouldn’t let us pay him for his time. As Marcello translated, Basilio said it was his honor to spend the day with us. It made his day to give us the story of our father.  

Right before we got to our car, I saw another poster made from photos of Robert Capa from the battle during World War II. It has a city wall that was damaged by bombing and from there a viewpoint of the 11th century Augustine church at the base of the town, where we parked our car. The city wall was damaged in this photo, but then restored after the war and that is where we stood with Marcello and Basilio to discuss where our father fought.  Seventy-two years have passed between Dad being here and our visit. Though he never talked about it, I felt a closeness to our father, who was 21 when he fought in this region. My dad was a hero, several times over. He carried those horrible memories privately to his death. I marvel at what it took to face the enemy and come out a hero. To mourn is respectful, to remember is holy.

Barcelona: Unfinished Business

I remember playing a classical piece on the piano and playing every note but the last chord, leaving others in the room unsatisfied at the ending since they were expecting to hear the chord that finished the song. That is how I felt when I left Barcelona - there was so much left undone to feel finished. It is definitely a city I would like to visit again.

We arrived late Thursday evening and took a cab to our hotel called Hotel Jazz. It was located near the University area, not far from the Las Ramblas, and close to the Latin quarter and a short walk from the beach. The hotel had a rooftop pool and bar and overlooked the University area. We dropped our suitcases and immediately walked to Las Ramblas for some tapas and sangria. I had heard that the food was not so great on the Las Ramblas because it was a touristy area, but either because we were hungry or the food had some spice, it was tasty to us.

The next morning we walked through the Gothic Barrio to Plaça Sant Jaume to meet Austin, Texas based Fat Tire bicycle company for a bicycle tour of the city. We did the same in Berlin and knew that it was the best way to get a feel for the city, as well as a way to get some exercise. It was a four hour tour and included some highlights of the city, including the government area of town in Placa Sant Jaume and the nearby Plaza del Rei where Christopher Columbus accepted the funds from Queen Isabella for his voyage west (to actually what is now Bermuda and an island called Hispaniola - not North America as most people think). Queen Isabella is reported to have had a personal relationship with Columbus, but also struck a deal to get 10 percent of the trade that he sold.  It felt amazing to be in this historic plaza.

We then rode to the Catedral in the Gothic barrio,  to the beautiful historic Palau Musica (music palace), then onto the  Parc de la Ciutadella which was first a fort, then turned into a park and a zoo. We stopped for photos before riding to the other side of the city to the La Sagrada Familia Catedral designed by the famous architect Gaudi. It was the first glimpse of this church and left us wanting for more. The style of this church from the outside was impressive, but we only had time to see one side and no time to go inside at all.

On the way to the Barceloneta beach, we rode through heavy traffic to find  lunch at another Tapas bar (Tapa Tapa). The beach was busy on the sunny day and we had time to enjoy our Spanish wine while watching the locals sunbathe.  Paul quickly downed his lunch so he could get some photos of the beautiful beach and perhaps a peek at the topless sunbathers. We finished our ride by seeing the Arc del Triomf, the Olímpica village of Barcelona, the eclectic El Borne neighborhood with restaurants and boutiques, and we finished our tour with the Basílica de la Santa Maria del Mar. We were impressed by the diverse offerings of the city and got a glimpse into the history of Barcelona.

After our ride, we returned to our hotel and spent the afternoon with drinks on the rooftop pool which overlooks the city. We relaxed and then showered and walked to the El Borne area to dine at a Mexican restaurant called La Hacienda. We were thrilled to find a restaurant that offered margaritas, spicy nachos, and fajitas. and ate outside on the terrace to watch the many locals shop in the boutique shops in the area. After we ate, we walked to the Santa de Mar Basilica to hear a concert of Spanish
guitars. As in Budapest, the churches have concerts as fundraisers to provide for the maintenance of the church. The trio of Spanish guitars bounced off the stone walls in the sanctuary and the candle-lit, low-lighting of the church was magical. The Basilica was built by the people in a simplistic style and the construction of this church only took 55 years (from 1329 to 1384). It was destroyed by earthquake soon after it was built and then after restored, destroyed again by fire during the civil war. This historic church is a prominent icon in the Gothic neighborhood.

Saturday, we had breakfast and strolled in the Gothic barrio. We then negotiated the underground trains to go back to the La Sagrada Familia with tickets to visit the inside of the church. We have seen quite a few churches in our travels, but this one was extremely impressive. It is not unusual to build these European church for 200 years. I felt privileged to see this church in progress. They have been building it for over 100 years and expect to finish it in 20 years. It is a work in progress in modern times, but majestic none-the-less.

One side of the church features the nativity of Jesus and the Holy Family and the other side has the facade featuring the Passion. It is impossible to describe the detail involved - it must be seen.  The inside of the church has many facets and the colors in the windows were brilliant. The best feature of this church is the altar area. A crucifix hangs over the altar in a ring of candles. Above the crucifix is an opening in the ceiling that opens into one of the towers. In my mind, this is what the opening of heaven must be like.

I sat in meditation and cried at the beauty of this sacred place as I felt bathed in the Holy Spirit near the altar.  We visited the museum under the church that told of the building of it and featured the design of Gaudi.

We left this area and pondered what to do with the rest of our afternoon. The funicula was broken that takes one to Mont Juiic to get a view from the top of the city so that was not an option without hiking shoes. We considered shopping in the El Born district, but had no room to take anything back in our suitcases. It was too nice of the day to go inside to the Picasso museum and we didn't have enough time to visit Montserrat, a beautiful Benedictine monk mountain retreat about one hour North West from Barcelona by train. We considered renting a bike to ride along the coast line to the Maresme beaches 1 hour away.  However, Paul had crashed his bike on the ride the day before and his elbow was hurting and his leg still had road rash.

We walked by a couple of Gaudi houses in the area, Casa Battlo and La Padrera (but didn't go to the Parc Guell where more houses are located) and strolled the Las Ramblas to return to our hotel. We returned to the rooftop bar at the hotel to research whether or not we could hear live music at the Palau Musica and they were sold out for the night. We then went back to the same Mexican restaurant for dinner (did I say that the Mexican food was a real treat for us after 6 months without?). We left early the next morning to return to our European home. Yes, we will go back to Barcelona to finish up the final notes to complete this symphony.