Paula’s Weekly Summary Week 2 The Union is Strong

The Via Francigena continues to inspire and humble.  Each day presents like a new episode of Survivor.  No trespassing events to report this week.

 

Our daily rituals simplify our comings and goings, introducing the illusion of predictability.   Mornings start at 7 am usually without the aid of an alarm.  Having showered the evening before we go about our tasks like an army breaking camp.  We move purposefully, stealthily reclaiming laundry that has dried on heaters or towel racks.  We pack items with precision, our bags are economical in content and size, with one inexplicable exception: a 450-page hard cover book I thought important to bring.  With limited clothing choices dressing is rapid.  Foot preparation bears a striking resemblance to an elaborate Japanese tea service.   Backpacks are restocked with water and appropriate weather gear.  The organizing ritual continues: two Kleenex in left pant pocket; small Swiss army knife, right shirt pocket; telephone, right pant pocket; sunglasses on lanyard; walking stick and hat.   All these essential items are checked and re-checked with serious redundancy, like a Nomar Garciaparra performance.

Once we hit the trail, we shout off a brief rollcall.  “How are we feeling?”  A 10 out of 10 answer is “Strong!”  Second question: “How are the feet?”  The perfect answer: “Quiet!”  Next in sequence is posing for our trademark photo. You might ask “What accounts for Edward’s big smile?”  I am grabbing his butt. 

 

The Via Francigena takes us along many roads, and we are conspicuous pilgrims.  I feel a responsibility to present myself as a “happy” pilgrim to those we pass.  I adjust my smile and demeanor for onlookers particularly when feeling punished by the path.  Perhaps not quite to the Gioconda level but think of the ecstatic expressions of martyrs while being tortured, like the flaying of St Bartholomew or St Lucy gazing at her eyeballs on a tray.   I most closely resemble Perugino’s St Sebastian, his body pierced with arrows launched by joyful archers, his demeanor remains that of bemusement, like a parent watching naughty children. He is seemingly inoculated to the pain but not the inconvenience. 

As our days come to an end, I am grateful for the level of maturity and wisdom the Wildebeest brings to this adventure. He serves as the IT guy, captain and navigator, DJ, concierge, and roadside podiatrist, all the while looking like Sir Jorah. An example: recently I was frustrated with a particularly embedded ceramic shard, the Wildebeest without a word, unsheathed his saber and completed the excavation – swoon.  The fine art indulging eccentricity. 

 

What I could really use is a style hack for my wardrobe.