Finishing Touches

Sally (my backpack) is TWENTY-SIX POUNDS.

That’s eleven more than I wanted to carry. Oysh. But there isn’t a thing in there that I don’t absolutely need (except for Coelho’s The Pilgrimage, but even that I feel I need)...and I’ve spent so much time over the past few months figuring out what to bring, that I feel like this is as good as I can do. It’s not too heavy when it’s ON...but picking it up, it feels like a ton of bricks. I think I’ve finally got the hang of the straps, too, as far as weight distribution goes.

Space Bags...those big vinyl ziplock bags you see on infomercials for closet storage? They make travel sizes. Got a few of ‘em today. Good thing: they save space. Bad thing: more space makes you feel like you need to bring more crap. Good thing: my pack is TOTALLY organized and everything is easy to get to. Bad thing: they don’t reduce weight at ALL. Good thing: I’ve resisted bringing more crap. Conclusion: they’re a good thing.

Went to Lowe’s today and got a pair of Leatherman tools and a pair of knives in a $25 set. Certainly not top-of-the-line, but the tools work and the knives are sharp and pointy and therefore, life is good. Large and small of each. Kudos to Tony for tipping me off that that deal existed.

Today I think I finished getting everything I needed, with the sole exception of those insoles I saw at REI the day I bought my boots. They’re expensive, and I feel guilty for spending another CENT on gear, but I’m also gonna feel guilty if I don’t get them because if there’s one thing you have to take care of on a trip like this, it’s your feet.

Travel gear discovery of the day: you know those little pocket-pack Listerine strips? They have similar packs, slightly larger, for shampoo, conditioner, body wash, shaving cream, and laundry detergent!!! If these things work, they’re gonna be the BOMB!!! (If they don’t, they have drugstores in Spain.) Found ‘em at Bed Bath & Beyond. My laundry detergent dilemma is SOLVED. Unless I’m without a sink I can stopper. Then I’m back to improvising.

Got the quick-dry, ultra-absorbent towel...got the emergency blanket and the little first-aid kit, got the Camper’s TP (!!!), and sucked it up and bought a Thermarest sleeping mat. Big, inch-and-a-half thick, self-inflating, tight-rolling, and only weighs a pound. Think I got my money’s worth on that. Got my dad’s Gore-Tex raincoat. No poncho, but since everything in my bag is in some sort of plastic container, or else doesn’t need to stay dry, don’t need to cover my pack in the rain.

I think I’m set.

(MY CAT JUST USED SALLY AS A SCRATCHING POST. GRRRRR....)

I was just thinking about getting picked up next Tuesday and driving away from my house, heading for the airport and for over a month on another continent, with nothing but this backpack. Swear my pulse spiked. On top of that, arriving in Paris, in a country whose language I know NONE of, with not a soul I know and JUST THIS BACKPACK. I need to sit down....

This is scary stuff.

Tomorrow I’m gonna walk to Hoadly in the morning, my 8-mile trek, with the pack at full weight. OH...did I mention that the 26 lbs was WITHOUT the 3L Camelback full of water???

Tonight at Borders, finally located Whitman’s “Song of the Open Road.” What follows is now in my journal, and more to come....



1
Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Strong and content, I travel the open road.

The earth—that is sufficient;
I do not want the constellations any nearer;
I know they are very well where they are;
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;
I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go;
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)




2
You road I enter upon and look around! I believe you are not all that is here;
I believe that much unseen is also here....





4
The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
The picture alive, every part in its best light,
The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted,
The cheerful voice of the public road—the gay fresh sentiment of the road.

O highway I travel! O public road! do you say to me, Do not leave me?
Do you say, Venture not? If you leave me, you are lost?
Do you say, I am already prepared—I am well-beaten and undenied—adhere to me?

O public road! I say back, I am not afraid to leave you—yet I love you;
You express me better than I can express myself;
You shall be more to me than my poem.

I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all great poems also;
I think I could stop here myself, and do miracles;
(My judgments, thoughts, I henceforth try by the open air, the road;)
I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like
me;
I think whoever I see must be happy.

Nine days to go....

Okay, keeping up with this blog is already getting hard to do, and I haven’t even LEFT yet.

More pieces are falling into place. I have some “Jerusalem cruisers,” as Tony calls them, and they’re faboo. Have finally put together toiletries (should probably cut the stash in half)...last few things are on their way from REI...still need a Leatherman. Have spent HOURS downloading music and putting together playlists, to the point where I’m starting to worry that I’m overly obsessing about the music part and it’s going to detract from what this experience is supposed to be like.

Triumphs:

• Found Li-ion camera batteries for FOUR DOLLARS. Like, ones that are usually THIRTY OR FORTY dollars. Bought FIVE of the suckers. Go me. 
  
• Found a voice recorder for $35
  
• ...and most importantly, the perfect journal. Today I spent some time at work hunting through Whitman’s Leaves of Grass for pertinent passages, and this is now on the first few pages of my super-cool awesome bomb-diggity journal. It seemed to tie in with Paulo Coelho’s idea of a Personal Legend (from The Alchemist). 
  

Still to do:

• To my dismay, my copy of LoG did NOT have “Song of the Open Road.” Must find it and steal passages.
  
• Still considering getting insoles. And a knife.
  
• Have not really tried out the pack at real weight, since I’m still waiting for things to arrive at REI.
  
• Have probably not broken in the boots enough.
  

I went up to DC the other day to see my friend Drew and pick his brain for backpacking tips...mainly because I was thinking of him as a backpacker, and not a former Marine. Therefore, the first-aid-kit list he put together for me would have me ready to survive unaided and alone while scaling the mountains of Patagonia for six months, rather than walking a hostel-and-town-laden pathway across summer wheat fields in Spain. (I have to bust on him for this because he said he’s going to laugh at my blog, and I want to know if he’s really reading it. Ha ha. Just kidding, Drew, you rock.) Highlight of the DC trip: the SECOND I got off the escalator up from the subway station, some bearded kid with a Greenpeace clipboard accosted me with “Hello, ma’am, YOU look like someone who cares about the environment!!” With my Jesus-stompers, my pack, and my cargo shorts, I already felt like a walking granola bar.... Highlight #2: Drew’s contribution to my hiking vocabulary: “swamp ass.” I don’t know what it is, but I have a kind of dread that I’ll find out. At least I have his vow that baby wipes are guaranteed to cure it....

Also hiked through Locust Shade Park the other day...only about 3 miles, but my first hump without cars whizzing by me at 60 mph...sort of. The trails are sandwiched between I-95 and Rt. 1. So I was never out of earshot of traffic, which was a bummer in such gorgeous forest trails. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find the time to go to some of the longer trails out off Joplin Rd.

I guess a lot of this prep stuff isn’t terribly interesting reading. I figure I should put something in here to explain why I’m keeping the blog. Mainly, (obviously) it’s to keep track of the whole adventure from start to finish...and maybe make something out of all this in the way of a publishable end product when it’s all said and done.

I’m also trying to write the kind of blog I wish I could find...that has info about airline tickets and tricks for getting around outrageous Eurail prices and stuff. I’m sure I’ll be writing about stuff I wish I had packed, and stuff I wish I hadn’t....

Third, it just makes things easier when talking to friends. I have everyone from former students to work and bar friends to my family reading this thing. It’s a five-week trip...there’s no way I’ll be able to tell all those stories a million times when I get back. Hell, there’s no way I’ll even remember them all. It’s been really cool when friends I haven’t talked to in forever say, “HEY, I saw your blog...your trip sounds like it’ll be awesome!!” And I can just launch into the latest without having to introduce it a million times...because NO ONE has heard of the Camino, and NO ONE seems to be able to get what it is or why I’m doing it...which is my next post.

Stay tuned. It’s about a week away at this point....

Solvitur Ambulando

“It is solved by walking.” - St. Augustine

I went hunting a labyrinth today.

If you’re anywhere near or over thirty, you probably instantly thought of David Bowie in REALLY tight pants and that giant, furry (and really kick-ass) Ludo-creature...what Sarah found when she wished the Goblin King would come and take away her baby brother, Toby. Ahh, 80’s cinema.

Real labyrinths are a bit different. I did a search and came up with several up in Alexandria...and one in good ol’ PWC. Drove out to Bristow and turned into the Linton Hall School, housed within the property of the Benedictine Priory of Gainesville, VA. The network of tiny roads and parking lots that wound through the complex was labyrinthine in itself. Lots of tall white statues on pedestals, with no explanation of who they were or what their significance was. I was competent enough to recognize Mary, but two or three others escaped me. I assume one was St. Benedict (but could have been Auggie or Francis or some other guy), and another appeared to be Mary with a young girl, and I would’ve liked to have some sort of story explaining that one.

On the grounds was the school itself, a small swimming pool, several little houses, and a large building I gather was where the convent actually was. Did not look convent-y. Looked like another old-fashioned, perhaps 60’s- or 70’s-era elementary school. Large front porch, rocking chairs. A couple red-brick mission-looking buildings, very small, with those bell-stands at the top that remind me of the adobe mission buildings in California. There was a “teaching garden.” A graveyard. Two boys playing basketball in the parking lot of the school. Lots of trees and big grassy areas. A sign pointing to “transitional housing” and B.A.R.N., which I didn’t get the long name for and looked to be a thrift store/donation dropoff point, so I suppose the Benedictine Sisters are, among other things, in the business of helping out families who are down-and-out.

After driving around for a while, and getting deeper and deeper into the complex, I finally wound my way back to the convent and parked. The door instructed me to ring the bell, but then to walk in if it was unlocked, so I did. Little old lady in the office...reminded me of my grandmother in a much smaller version. I told her I’d come hoping to find a walking labyrinth, and felt silly till I saw the labyrinth design on her mousepad. She gave me directions back past the teaching garden, where I’d already been, and told me to look for two large white silos.

I’d missed the sign the first time, but she was right...it was there. “Labyrinth Garden,” the sign said. The grounds are right off of Linton Hall Road, which is in a nightmare of construction that, I saw today, has merely morphed into new and equally neverending phases from what I’d seen before, but the labyrinth was buffeted from the noise of the road by some very thick conifer-type trees. There was a wooden fence, left open, and a little arbor leading down to the maze itself.

It looked just the way I figured it should. It was smaller than I’d hoped for, and I was sorry to see that, unlike the verdant, shady, contemplative grounds I’d been walking barefoot through earlier, the labyrinth itself was in full sun...which, at 2pm two days past the solstice, made the paving stones too hot to walk without my flipflops on. (They’re too big, and keeping them on detracted from my walk.)

So I dove in, tried not to hurry.

The purpose of a labyrinth is to quiet your mind. It’s a unicursal (one-path) design. There is no getting lost...it winds around from the outside and leads to the center, and then (as I found out later; I did not reverse the track) you’re supposed to walk back to the outside the way you came in. It’s a mediation thing. The site of Grace Cathedral’s labyrinth is a good one, and it explains the purpose of the labyrinth (which I won't bother to retype here, but check it out 'cause it's cool). I went there last summer with Ben, but as I recall, the indoor labyrinth was under construction, and I don’t remember why I didn’t walk the outside one, despite how taken I was with all the labyrinth stuff in the gift shop. Anyway...it’s meant to symbolize the twists and turns we take in life on our way to understanding...and how there is really only one path, and you can’t get lost, and there’s no dead ends.



“Off the Road,” the book I’m reading (and by “reading,” I mean “keeping weeks past the due date from the library without actually getting past page 40, then renewing it after paying a $7 fine, so that I’ll forget to return it before I go on my trip and wind up owing new fines far greater than the book’s original value”) is written by a guy who, like me, grew up Episcopalian, and it’s at once humorous, irreverent, and yet very heartfelt. He goes on the Camino and feels a desire to start the pilgrimage the way it was done in the Middle Ages, from his own front door, but alas, he is an American, and there is an ocean between him and Santiago...not just 500 miles of Spain. So he goes seeking some meditative undertaking on North American soil to sort of kick off his trip.

Which is why I went hunting labyrinths today.

The silos, by the way, looked like silos, but were really just large concrete cylinders. They had beautiful concentric paving stones on the floor inside them, and benches along the walls, and foot-wide, stained-glass panels reaching from above the doorways to nearly the tops, which were open to the sky. The curvature of the sunlight made the white, stony inner walls look really beautiful. You could sit on one of the little curved benches inside and look out the doorway over a segment of the labyrinth and the gardens beyond it. By accident (read: “Upon talking to myself”), I discovered the echo properties inside them, and was reminded of the time my mom and I stood on opposite sides of the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London and made it work its acoustic magic.

It was a decent experience. Not life-changing, certainly not cathartic in any way. But I’d like to go back a few times before I go. With shoes that don’t distract me. Early in the morning, perhaps. Maybe even get to go into the little chapel they have there. Maybe see a nun. (I know, I know, they don’t wear habits, and they’re probably not that exciting, but Catholic I ain’t, and this is my meditative aspiration, not yours.)

Besides, “So, today I went to a Benedictine priory and walked a labyrinth” just sounds cool. Mystical. Which ties right in with the Camino.

I consider the journey begun.

Shorn...

Well, I did it.

My hair is GONE. Aaron gave me several chances to stop, but I told him, this was the deal, so he did it, and had an evil, inspired, slightly crazy grin on his face the whole time. Kept cackling. Crazy bastard. Lol...as for me, well, I totally freaked the eff out. I was actually in tears in the chair. He kept announcing to all the staring women in the salon, “It’s okay, she just cut ALL HER HAIR OFF, and HERE’S the PILE!!”

It’s SHORT. It’s way shorter than I’m happy with...I would never want to keep it this way. But it’s exactly how short it needs to be to get me through Spain with minimal hassle, and by the time I get back, in two months, I think it’s gonna look really cute.

That doesn’t change the fact that I was sitting there, under this friggin’ dryer, unable to stop the tears from streaming down my face as I watched this guy sweep up this giant pile of my gorgeous, beautiful brown curls, fill a WHOLE stand-up dustpan with it, and DUMP IT IN THE TRASH. I felt like someone had just tossed my CHILD in the trash can. It was horrible. Don’t laugh if you can’t relate. I had a LOT of hair. I mean, it was bigger than many counties in this area, as I told a friend at work last week. Cutting it all off is like chopping off a piece of my identity...it IS my identity. People identify me as the girl with all the curly hair. Seriously!! They say that women who have extremely long hair go through a mourning period when they cut it short that is akin to what people go through when they lose a relative. No joke.

Like, you really need to insert an expletive every few words as you read this post to get a grasp of how devastated and freaked out I am right now. But my mother reads this blog, as do my students, so you gotta make that leap yourself.

He took a razor to the back. It sticks me in the neck. It’s bugging me.

No idea when I’ll have the guts to go out and see my friends. I think I’ll just hide out till I go on my trip. Well, not really, but that’s what I feel like doing. My friend Jenn has told me she’ll come help me put some color streaks into it tomorrow. (Yay!) TOTALLY not me, but neither is this haircut, so I might as well make it a little funky. It IS summer, after all.

Jenn came over to see how it looked tonight. Asked if she should bring anything. I told her a knife. A rope. Hemlock. A large rabid dog. A poisonous adder. Rat poison.

It took me two hours to really stop getting all weepy every time I looked in the mirror.

When my dad saw me, he said, “You look like Olivia!!” From SVU. God, I wish.

So anyway...if you see me in the next couple weeks, if you think it looks great, for God’s sake, TELL ME.

And if you think it doesn’t, for GOD’S SAKE, LIE!!!

STOP me....

Okay, SERIOUSLY, someone needs to stop me. I need to NOT keep going back to REI. They got another 250 beans out of me today, but the upside of that is that I heart boy pants again. I took back the ones from Kohl’s that wound up being too big. Got some awesome shorts and some zip-off cargoes that I wish were just ONE INCH longer, but I’ll live. BOTH from the MEN’S department. Can someone please explain to me how MEN’S pants fit a girl with a butt like mine, and yet women’s pants seem to be made for people who never outgrew the shape they had in 7th grade??? Sigh. Who cares...my pants rocks.

I did 7.2 miles today. Walked to my folks’ shop, and most of the way back. Today was the first test drive with the boots AND the pack...about half-loaded, with the Camelback in too. That Camelback is a 3L...and that thing is HEAVY when it’s full...no joke! Can’t seem to get the load distribution right yet...not getting much weight onto the lumbar strap, so it’s still mainly on my shoulders and my sternum strap. It wasn’t exactly a problem today, but most of the weight is supposed to be on my hips, and I gotta monkey with the pack a little more.

So, I was right...when my dad and I found average highs in the 70s throughout the Camino route for July and August, the person who made those almanac tables was on crack. Some guy today told me he’d seen highs of 47C in August in Pamplona...which translates to 113F!!!! Some chick from Australia also told me Spain is the hottest place she’s ever been. MOST people say AUSTRALIA is the hottest place they’ve ever been. Not cool with hearing an Aussie say that. But she also said it was a dry heat, so that’ll be a welcome change from ol’ VA.

Can’t decide whether to take the iPod or not. I’ve been sort of adopted by this Liverpoolian expat in NZ on Facebook, and the latest topic of conversation has been music. I was thinking NO on the iPod because a) I don’t want it stolen, or to have to sweat it being stolen, and b) as my mom put it today, if this is really is going to be a pilgrimage-type thing, music can get in the way of what I’m really after on this trip. Part of what I hear time and again about the Camino is that the rhythm of your own footsteps and the sounds of the world around you (or, more to the point, the lack thereof) is what can really drop you into another dimension. And though my NZ buddy said that the basic rule of thumb is that one generally removes the earphones in company (or impending company), I don’t want to be (or appear to be) cut off from the human contact that is also a huge part of the magic of the Camino. Then AGAIN, I’m sure there will be times when I WANT to appear unapproachable, and earphones are a great way to preclude unwanted contact...just ask any teenager.

I did kinda dig the prospect of putting together some bomb playlists, though. Dude at work just turned me on to this guy Mike Doughty, and he ROCKS. Good mix of him, Carbon Leaf, Pat McGee, Rusted Root, and Train...whoa, nelly. And I know I’m gonna need some inspiration to keep my feet moving on Day 2 over the Pyrenees, or on Day 3 when people say you’re going to seriously consider saying SCREW THIS WALK and hop a train to Prague or Amsterdam or Venice instead.

Speaking of trains...how stupid is this...I’m almost as excited about the 5 hour train trip between Paris and Bayonne on the day I arrive as I am about the Camino. Trains just seem cool to me. When I was a kid and we’d visit my aunt in Truckee, her house faced a mountainside with a train track, and the trains would snake out of one tunnel, cross the mountain face, and disappear into another, and my brother and I would watch for it all the time. I’ve never really been on trains much. Didn’t even cross the Chunnel, even though it opened while I was studying in London. I wish America was more of a train place, like Europe. People would travel more, and more easily.

Anyway...I booked the train trip the other day. Should’ve done a week and a half ago, when Paris all the way to St. Jean Pied-de-Port was 55 instead of 133. I don’t even know if it was talking about dollars or Euro, but DOES IT MATTER?? It more than DOUBLED in a WEEK! And the 133 doesn’t even get to SJPP...just to Bayonne!! Grrrr...but I did some poking around and found a website put together by some Brit trying to help Americans and Aussies avoid getting gouged by Rail Europe. It's an AWESOME site, and wound up helping me dodge the $(?)133 fare and wind up with one that was ∈60...still works out to about $95, but I saved anyway. Unfortunately, I have to get to Gare Montparnasse on a commuter bus, and the rail route only gets me to Bayonne...not a huge problem, as apparently there are quick, cheap, and frequent commuter trains to SJPP that take under an hour.

If my flight from Frankfurt would have made it in an hour and a half earlier, that rail pass would’ve been under ∈35. Dammiiiit. I’ll get to SJPP by about 7pm, and hope that the Powers That Be will have a place for me to stay, and compassionate French people willing to help a non-French-speaking American (their favorite kind of person) figure out what the hell I’m doing.

Today’s mystery: compression sacks. And the belt fastener on one of the pairs of shorts I tried on. Damn near had to go out and ask for help in getting it undone. I like to think I could’ve carried that off as cute and not laughably pathetic...or at least some mix of both....

Sigh....

Mustang Sally...

My passport just got here!!! 7 DAYS!! Whohooo!! The schmuck at the post office DID know what he was talking about.... Heh heh. Can’t believe that. I was sweatin’ that one.

I also bought my pack yesterday! My new baby is a blue and gray Kelty Coyote 4500W, 73L rucksack with detachable hip-pack top and integrated Camelback hydration capability. Her name is Sally. She’s sweeeeeeet. The adjustability of this thing is just sick. I showed it to my friend Keith, and he looked like he didn’t want to talk to me anymore afterwards. Lol...luvyu, Keeeeith. ;-)



In light of new intelligence that refugio availability is NOT a guarantee ANYWHERE in July and August, I also bought an accordion-style-eggshell-sleeping-mat thingy...which I’m now considering taking back. I don’t want to have to carry it on the plane, I don’t trust it to survive checking, I’m not sure the accordion-style was better than the roll-up kind, and when I really think about it, it might be the kind of thing I’m better off buying once I get there anyway. Sooo...it might be going back to REI, along with the socks that have the top band coming undone, grrr. Not cool. Especially since REI is a HIKE up into Fairfax and always involves at least three or four U-turns till I find it. Not that anyone’s surprised by that. ‘Cause I’m SOOO good with directions. Good luck finding the Atlantic, four weeks from leaving the Pyrenees, Christine. Yyyyyeah. Anyway...moving on....

What’s kind of silly is that I’m almost more excited about this blue paisley head-wrap thing I got yesterday than about my pack. It’s pretty badass. I also got a 1L Camelback bladder and already loaded it into the pack. Haven’t tried the pack at weight yet. The guy at REI claimed he loaded it with 20 lbs yesterday before he told me to huff it around the shop for ten or twenty minutes. When I got back and asked to try another pack, my dad watched him unload the weight and said it was more like 30, which I REALLY hope is true because that damn thing was HEAVY!!! I really want to get my stuff together and load this puppy up to see what it’s really gonna be like. Walks from now on have to include the pack. With a load. And the Camelback filled.

My anguish over my impending chop-off on Friday continues to grow. I’m going back and forth on it so much. Half of me can’t WAIT to get the weight and the hassle of this mop of mine off my head...the other half keeps listening to boys begging me to leave it alone. Wish I could cut it off for the summer and have it back by the fall.... Oh well. Life is hard.

Clothing continues to be a quandary. If anyone can locate those Sonoma zip-offs in 32x34, you will be my hero....

In case anyone cares, and really, for my own records, here’s the tally so far:

• Plane tix: $1140
  
• Trip Insurance: $38
  
• Boots: $150
  
• 4 pairs hiking socks, 3 pairs liner socks: $76
  
• Passport: $75
  
• Pack: $155
  
• Sleeping mat, head thingie, straps, REI membership: $80
  
• Camelback:$30
  
• Clothes: $70 so far, but probably returning them...becoming convinced that what I already own is good enough.
  

Oh...and no-go on the couple living in the house (and paying rent) while I’m gone.  Good thing God saw fit to get Mell and Billy kicked out of their place, so guess they can watch the house while I'm gone....  heh heh, thanks, guys....

Two Things

Okay...yesterday, finally did the trek down 234 to my folks' house. 57 minutes. Hitched a ride home with Mom. Yes, slightly wimpy, but did manage to make the discovery that handkerchiefs will be a NECESSITY on the Camino.

Also. Can I just say. Ahem. I am 8 days from lopping off my hair in Attempt #2 to become a brunette Meg-Ryan-in-City-of-Angels, and I have two thoughts. 1) It will not work. 2) Regardless, I am REALLY REALLY REALLY nervous about it.

But it must be done.


PS - 34s too big. Anyone know where I can find some 32x34 Sonoma Men's Cargo Khakis?

I Heart Boy Pants!!

OKAY...need an update. Well...we're at T-30 days and counting till I actually begin my Camino. The plan is to arrive in Paris on the morning of July 9, get to St. Jean Pied-de-Port that night, and head out from there the morning of the 10th.

Last Friday I finally went to the post office to mail my passport application. GOD I hope that 4-week promise holds...otherwise, I'll be doing a big fat NOTHING in 30 days. The guy behind the counter at the Lorton post office was VERY nonchalant about the whole thing and came off as a total dufus who did NOTHING to assuage my fears that it wouldn't arrive. What does it matter to him?? Of course he can be flippant about it. Kinda ticked me off.

Got sick over the weekend with a cold from hell...my house is totally devoid of Kleenex now...and I lost a whole weekend's walking. Not that I would've gotten far...it's been in the 90s with heat indices over 100. I'm hoping that breaks tonight because I HAVE to get back out. I've done NO walking in about a week now and that's NO BUENO.

But I'm recovering...tomorrow should be back to normal.

Today I went to Kohl's in search of Caminowear. Tony gave me a pair of his cargo shorts before he left for Vermont, and I realized I'm NOT doomed to evil, shapeless, terrible-fitting chick hiking shorts made for people with stick-figure bodies and that, believe it or not, a pair of 34 cargos are THE BOMB!! So I sought out a few pairs of lightweight cargos at Kohl's today and found TWO PAIRS of zip-offs!!! I've been wearing one pair all afternoon, and they're ALMOST perfect. They're a little big. And with the weight I expect to drop along the route, they're only gonna get bigger. Problem: the 32s only came in lengths of 30 or 32. And a 34 length is NECESSARY. So I may just suck it up. But I'm keeping the tags just in case. And at any rate, thanks to Tony, I learned that boy pants rock. :)

Next on the list: RUCKSACK. Ian told me there's an outdoors store in Springfield. Might be on the billet for tomorrow.

I FLY IN FOUR WEEKS. AAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!

Boots 'n' Sox

Found myself with some extra time to kill on Saturday and headed up to REI in Fair Oaks.

I knew I was gonna be spending a lot of money on boots, so I was too nervous to head straight to footwear. I mulled around for a while in the Camelbaks, the pet accessories, and the hiking gear and tried some things on. I do NOT have the body for hiking shorts. Period. Seemed like every pair of shorts I tried on had some hidden mechanism that caused them to inflate around the hip and buttock areas with these big unsightly bulges that my own clothes don't seem to possess. Can't figure that out. I know it can't be me.... Still, I wonder if I'll be able to fit into them when I get BACK.... And it does have me a bit concerned...what you wear when you hike is important, I'm guessing. What the heck am I gonna wear for shorts, to make sure they don't chafe or make me uncomfortable day in and day out? I'm gonna have like TWO PAIRS of shorts / pants for WEEKS! They better be good.

Found some high-end performance shirts, too...about $40-$50 a pop. Is that worth the wicking mechanism? They say cotton is no bueno...a liability when it's wet and takes forever to dry. But the costs are mounting and I can't seem to decide if these fancy clothes they want you to wear are a gimmick or a worthwhile investment. And don't even get me STARTED on sports bras.

So, having failed in like SIX different pairs of shorts and cargo pants (with the cool zip-off lower legs, dammit), I meandered into socks.

Wool socks. SEVENTEEN DOLLARS A PAIR. Max padding? Medium padding? Wool? Synthetic? Polypro? Do I need padding? Will my feet get hot? Again, how important is WICKING? Am I hiking or trekking? There were like three aisles' worth of socks. I kept casting mournful glances at the teenage kids running the footwear department till one of them caught my eye and came over to help. He was great. He even let me try different socks on in the shoe department without making me buy them.

I found the shoes I wanted right away. Then felt guilty because I felt like I was seizing on the first pair of boots I found, and I needed to be more discriminating. But they were Vasques, the brand I'd seen mentioned several times in blogs, and I gotta admit, I liked them partially because they LOOKED COOL!! But they also had a lot of breathing panels that the leather ones didn't have. The kid who helped me couldn't have been more than 17, but he seemed to know what he was doing and was very helpful, as was the kid he passed me off to when he got off work five minutes after I tried on the first pair.

So I spent about an hour trying on three different pairs, with two different sock weights, with three different insoles, five different upper-lacing patterns, and about a JILLION questions for this kid. Finally made up my mind. $150 for the boots, another $50 for two pairs of medium-weight wool hiking socks and three pairs of polypro liner socks (to reduce blisters and allow you to lengthen the life of your socks between washings).

Also went to the folks' house last night to get my passport photos taken. I'm actually kinda pleased with the way they turned out. I've been sitting on this passport application for a month now, and I leave in 35 days. Tomorrow after school, I'll go to the post office and get it taken care of. There's a 2-week option that I hope will work. If not, I'm not sure what I'll do!!!

DEVELOPMENT: My dad has a friend who has a 26-year-old daughter. She and her NZ husband are moving to the area this summer. My dad and this guy are talking about the couple staying in my house while I'm gone AND PAYING MY BILLS WHILE THEY'RE HERE. HOW BOMB IS THAT???? That could potentially free up somewhere around $1000 for me in the middle of the summer!! If you're the prayin' kind...start prayin'. I need that to go through.


So it's Tuesday now, and I finally decided I better take the new boots and socks for a test drive. I decided I'd walk from my house to my parents', about 3.5 miles away. Got about 1/3 of a mile and the sky opened up. Stood for about 5 minutes under a tree, literally paralyzed with indecision about whether to press on (so I get wet, so what? It'll rain in Spain...on the plain...) or turn back. I turned back. It stopped raining. I got home, called my dad, decided to drive over. Needed to pick up those photos anyway. Right around the time I would've reached their development, with about half a mile to go, it started to BUCKET. Like, I think I saw animals two by two. That would've SUUUUUUCKED. So it's a good thing I turned back after all, but I still wish I could've done that walk today. I am NOT doing well with consistency. Did I mention it's 35 days away???

Sigh. Oh well. Found a Facebook group that has GORGEOUS pictures from the Camino. I found a picture of the Cathedral of St. James (the destination) and the harbor at Finisterre (the after-destination). BREATHTAKING. This is gonna be AWESOME.