passing notes

Not since junior high--okay high school--has passing notes been such fun. I get separated from people all of the time on the Camino. Sometimes they get ahead of me by a day or so. Sometimes I get ahead of them by a day or so. So we leave notes. Everyone is on the same path, after all.

It´s a trick to make sure that it gets the recipient´s attention. I left one in a plastic bag with a big red pepper full of rocks holding it down--a dare for someone to meet me at a certain place on a certain day. A dare because it involves a long day in order to catch up.

Last night, I arrived at an albergue, and the hospitalera said, "Are you Bridget?" and when I nodded, she handed me a note from another pilgrim. "How did you know who I was----?" I touched the hair.