America’s urban planning is dreadful in comparison to Spain’s. I spent a beautiful hour this morning walking out of Logroño. There was no sprawl. There was only a big gorgeous park on the edge of the city. The park culminated in a stunning lake then gave way to miles of picturesque Riojan vineyards.
The Camino was packed with Americans today—Idaho, Florida, Virginia, Ohio, New York, Arizona, Pennsylvania were all represented. I met a woman who lives 10 minutes away from me. We walked for a while, but I spent most of the morning conversing with Idahoan Steph. She has bum knees, so I went slowly along with her. A day will come when I want someone to walk with my limping self. The injuries are really catching up to people. I’m holding steady. As long as I’m uninjured and score a bottom bunk, I am a happy camper.
Today I talked with people about being 9. Connor from Cleveland made an igloo. Henry from Buffalo got two shitzu puppies. Jay from Philly figured out how to manage dyslexia due to a kind teacher. Mark the Yinzer pulled a chair away from a girl he had a crush on and gave her a concussion. She never paid attention to him again.
I remember that when I was 9, the teacher on lunch duty (Mrs Novak?) made me anxious by insisting that I had to eat everything on my plate. I think my mom got involved.
1 comment:
So glad you remain injury -free! Hooray for bottom bunks 🙌🏽
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