Loving Adventure

Getting ready to bicycle Yugoslavia in 1975, a woman I did housework for on Bainbridge Island lent me “Full Tilt.”  The book chronicles Dervla Murphy’s solo bicycle ride from Ireland to India in 1963 on a three speed.  By the time I read the book I bicycled across Canada, Seattle to San Francisco, Maui in Hawaii, and all around the Pacific Northwest.  Dervla Murphy has been a role model  I did this trip solo as I did a most   of my trips and enjoyed every minute of it.I plan bicycle trips for fun, once a bicycle trip gets mapped out it goes in the bucket list. At 69 years old I still plan to do some solo bicycle touring. Looking back at all my adventures traveling solo as a woman I could tell you a lot of stories but will share a few so you get the general idea.

for me from the first read of “Full Tilt.” Several years ago, I packed up my bicycle and went to Italy.

 Bicycling solo down the Adriatic Sea shore in Yugoslavia, two American men came up behind me on their bicycles.  We exchanged travel stories of our trips. They had decided to go up in the mountains.  The ride for them didn’t sound pleasant.  The roads wand around and up and down, going into one lane now and again and there were not a lot of places to stay.  One night they got robbed.  My story was a happy story.  Staying in campgrounds, I started early in the day to escape the August heat, In the afternoons I’d swim in the Adriatic Sea to cool down and relax. Once hearing my story, the men started making nasty remarks about me traveling alone and saying traveling for women alone is dangerous and inappropriate.  To get away from them, I said I was stopping for a break, they were scaring me with some of their comments.

Let’s face it “Adventure” in films and books in general is about and for men. I think the impact of this media stereo type particularly for men like I met in Yugoslavia discourages women from venturing out, pushing their adventure stories into obscurity and therefore men don’t see women as peers when comes to travel, adventure and a physical challenge. Somehow in my early days I rejected this stereo type.  Today I’m grateful that I did and thank women like Dervla Murphy who have gone before me to set an example to emulate.  In modern times there’s “Wild” by Cheryl Strayed and it seems that things are changing in adventure stereo types little by little.

Adventures like Yugoslavia, started my exploring obscure places far from the tourist hot spots like Vietnam in 1996.  Places like these bring adventure to traveling.  I remember a night in Yugoslavia when I got a bed for the night in a room in a boarding house with four Yugoslavian women.  Luckily, I was able to bring my bicycle up to the room.  The bicycle captured the curiosity of the Yugoslavian women. We kept trying to communicate. They knew a little German from the war, I only knew English.  After a lot of pointing at my bicycle, gesturing, trying to make our signals understood we started to laugh until we settled down for the night. 

Travelers are definitely looking for something, new experiences, new places, seeing great historical places, or experiencing different cultures and meeting new people.  In my travels I often wonder what I’m looking for.   When I think about this, I don’t like to just go somewhere; I want to meet people become part of the day to day life of the area I’m traveling in.  This has been particularly true since I’ve retired. Serving in the Peace Corps, studying in Thailand for four months and walking the Camino de Santiago fulfilled my desires more than any other travel I’ve done.

Traveling in retirement keeps my bucket list growing.  Meeting Dervla was one bucket list item that has been added.  I wrote her a letter.  I wrote in the letter how she inspired me over the years to keep exploring and asked her to have tea with me if I came to Ireland.  The only address I could find was her publisher, to date I have not received a reply. Meeting Dervla will have to stay on the bucket list for now until I can figure out a way to go to Ireland and knock on her door.  Perhaps a bicycle ride to her town.  Until then I’ll plan and dream of bicycling adventures like Spokane, WA to Nelson, BC, Georgia to Armenia, along Danube River from Progue to Budapest, or Southern England to just name a few of them.  Ride on!

The Year of Pride 2019

Gay Pride Day, has come and gone and so has Pride month but this year, 2019, the 50^th anniversary of the Stonewall Rebellion, Pride celebration continues all year, all over the world.  Vashon Heritage Museum joins this worldwide celebration with their current LGBTQ exhibit entitled, “In and Out, Being LGBTQ on Vashon.”  The exhibit plans events throughout the year celebrating Vashon’s LGBTQ’s community.

As part of this yearlong celebration the exhibit, Vashon Heritage Museum and the Senior Center is sponsoring a film series at the Vashon Theater and Senior Center.  The first film, After Stonewall, was shown June 24^th.  As a member of the Advisory Committee for the LGBTQ exhibit I was asked to introduce the film.  Being a conciseness person, I reviewed the movie which I hadn’t seen in years. Watching the film, I was struck by how much the movie moved me even today, not only about my past but about my community’s past.  The movie tells the story of the LGBTQ community’s coming out echoing the coming out stories in the “In and Out” exhibit and the stories I’ve heard over the years, not only from people, but communities and organizations too.

These memories were sparked during my work on the “In and Out” exhibit.  Oral histories of LGBTQ members in our Vashon community are part of this exhibit and are on display for all the community to hear. Listening to them I learned stories about people I have known for years. Stories that have gotten buried with years of living.  The “In and Out” exhibit mined so much history for all us to hear, see and enjoy. History, that seemed forgotten or lost, shines through

The exhibit and the film After Stonewall makes the point that coming out is a life time endeavor.  Thinking about my recent walk on the Camino de Santiago in this context I realize that every time I talked about my “spouse” and people assumed she was a he I had to make the choice of coming out or not coming out.  I did come out to the close group of friends that I consistently walked with for the 486 miles but not everyone I met.  I’ve been out for over 40 years and still I make this choice almost every time I meet some one for the first time.

Seeing After Stonewall brought up memories of some of the significant coming out moments in my live time. At Green Peace as the bookkeeper letting my follow coworkers know that my partner was a woman, or the time when I got pregnant through alternative insemination and had a woman partner answering the question over and over again of how I got pregnant.  Or the time after 16 years of being with my partner having asked my family ask how long we’d been together as if we had just gotten together. Somehow, they didn’t remember her from all those times I brought “My Friend,” to family gatherings.  Then my I brought “My Partner” to family gatherings.  All these identities my partner and I took on over the years depending on what we perceived as acceptable were stages in our coming out process. 

Even our children go through these processes of coming out.  My daughter when she starts to date a new person asks if they have a problem with her having gay parents.  As she put it, “This is a deal breaker if they have a problem with it.” Actually, when I think about it, my whole family goes through a coming out process.  Years ago, my sister gave a chunk of change to the Pride Foundation.  I found out about it because she had a postcard on her refrigerator from the Pride Foundation and to my surprise it had my faster daughter’s photograph on the front.  I asked her where she got the postcard and that’s when she told me about her contribution.  To me having this postcard on her refrigerator was a message to all my her friends that she accepts her gay sister and identifies as a “Gay Ali.”

These stories of members of my community and my family are ripples in the years of my community’s coming out story that extends way beyond any closet I ever dreamed of when I first told the first person that I was a lesbian.  These stories continue today and I am reminded coming out is a life time endeavor.  And as the LGBTQ community continues to spread love as a good thing, I think of the words from the poem, “The River Gold.” written by a Vashon gay man, Don Paulson where he refers to the strength of our community as a lovely stream, “Who would think a lovely stream could sweeten a bitter sea.”  Thank you, Vashon Heritage Museum, for coming out as an Ali of the Vashon Gay Community.

For events celebrating the LGBTQ community look on the Vashon Heritage Museum’s website at; https://vashonheritagemuseum.org/

No Epilogue to this Journey

The second day I was in Santiago I ran into one of the people I walked with on the Camino as I was on my way back from my morning coffee.  We hunged each other as if we'd known each other our whole lives.  He explained he was on his way to catch a bus for further travels.  He then looked me in the eye and said, "A lot still to process."  I knew exactly what he meant.  Tears were right below the surface for me, some because I was home sick and some because the community that I became a part of on the Camino would never be the same.  I would never be the same.

Twenty two of us had dinner the night before at the Sam Francisco Hotel.  Our group was seated in a room that looked like an old chapel.  We said our goodbyes, wishing every one on to their lives.  Now in Madrid my thoughts still fill with Camino, the walking the people, the villages.  Before I came I had three expectations, meeting people from all over the world, creating community, and walking through village after village in the countryside.  I was not disappointed.

As I continue to process the Camino the realization that the experience will take a life time to process. I know now why people I'd met who had done the Caimino had a twinkle in their eyes when they talked about their experience.  A volunteer at the Albergue I stayed at on Easter said it the best, "Buen Camino" is not just words it's the spirit of the Camino community of walkers.

The Finish Line

Sitting in the kitchen of the Albergue in O Pedrouzo I felt sad the walk was ending, yet excited about going home.  Such mixed emotions.  The internet was good at this Albergue reaching out to thenwhole place, what a good time to call Laura. We talked for a while even though I woke her up.  I sat drinking my machine made coffee wanting to saviour every moment on the path.

Today the rain was guaranteed.  I walked out into the darkness heading for the Camino.  The path didn't go through town.  The street lights lit the way until the

path turned left into the woods.  I hesitated, took out my phone to help light the way.  In about a mile I stopped at a cafe with the worst cup of coffee yet on the
Camino, worse than the machine coffee.

By this time all my rain gear was on.  With every step I thought about Santiago wondering what the city would be like, what not walking would be like, wondering if I'll be able to change my flight, will I be able to get my certificate as soon as I get into town, how long will be the line be.

13.3 miles later I walked into Quintana Square in front of the Santiago Cathedral.  Garnet walked up to me before I even got across, gave me a big

hug,"Good work," he told me.  He led me to the Camino Santiago official office to question up to get my certificate.  He said the wasn't as long as when he arrived the day before.  We talked about all the adventures since he went on and I took a day of rest in Burgos.

After getting my certificate we went to a nice restaurant for paella.  Garnet offered to get champagne but then remembered I don't drink.  We talked about the Camino community, the Albergues we stayed in, the food we'd eaten.  It felt like the first of many homecomings yet to come.   I came and did what I had intended, walk the Camino de Santiago French Way.

Reflecting on the Path

One more day of walking.  The walk is full now of remembering.  Remembering all the people that I've shared a room with in the last months.  First I thought maybe hundreds but after recalling a couple of Albergues with over 200 people

I'm thinking thousands.  I'm remembering all the people who helped me on the way, both on the path and at home.

In O Pedrouzo tonight.  I went to look at the shower before gathering my things to get in. Many of the showers in the last month flashed across my mind.  All the ones that you first had to think about how to keep your things dry because there either was no place past the door to the shower to put clothes, or not enough for the clothes you were going to take off and the clothes you wanted to keep dry to put on.  In gender neutral shower rooms you want to figure out how to get into the shower without being seen.  At the Albergues this can be tricky.  Not tonight, the good size shower came with a glass door and a hand held shower head with more than two feet of changing space and four hooks plus a hanger to hang clothes.

I'm perty sure a lot of the food served in the remote villages along the way came out of the freezer, the food has improved since Sarria too.  Sarria is where a lot of people start, they stay in hotels more than the walkers who start in St Jean, and perhaps because there are a lot more of them restaurants can serve fresher food, be more frequent along the path and they're even opened earlier.  I got an espresso at the Albergue I stayed in last night before 7am instead of boiling water in the microwave adding instant coffee and eating prepackaged donuts because I want an early start.

Thinking about all the bad coffee.  I knew it was bad when I hoped for a coffee machine in the Albergue for morning coffee.  The thing is I needed coffee and a little something to eat before walking.  Since not all Albergues are the same, some locked their kitchens until 7 or 7:30 am some didn't even offer any kind of kitchen facilities.  So I bought instant coffee, kept donuts on hand for all occasions.  A couple of times I was so desperate I filled a water ball I'd saved got hot water out of the tap added the instant coffee shaking it real well before I drank it.  Looking back this must have been one of the low points.

Along the path I did a lot of forward thinking. I thought about my morning granola with fruit, sleeping in my own bed, sitting in the living room talking to Laura.  Wearing different clothes.  Yes I'm homesick.

Tomorrow night I'll be in a hotel in Santiago to hide out, rest and chill before I head to Madrid for a couple of days before heading home.

Noticing Galicia

First an update on the bike accident. I ran into the couple that helped, the man with his cell phone and the woman was a nurse said the ambulance came took the cyclist to the town.  Several hours later they saw the cyclist biking down the road.  News travels on the Camino fast.

As for the Galicia the culture has changed.  For one thing the graves are wrapped around the church instead of behind a stone wall just out of town.  The small churches have started to be open too.  A few towns ago I talked to a priest sitting

outside.  I asked him if he went around on Sunday mornings doing services in the small churches in the countryside.  He said only to some of the bigger churches.  In this area, he said, there's three of us at the main church in Palas de Rei.

Here's a picture of the graves to the right, they line one side of the church property like a fence.  Most of the graves have artificial flowers.

Galicia is a farming region. Almost every house had a structure I wondered about.  I took several pictures.  At one of the pilgrim stops I asked a local.  He

pointed to corn hanging from the roof and said storage.  These corn storage structures come in many different designs.  To me they looked like some kind of temple.  The points at the top are also on top of chimneys of houses. Definatly a Galicia design.

Two more days of walking. Then three nights in Santiago.