The Camino to Santiago de Compostela: by train (June 19)

Many travelers to the north of Spain have heard of the "Camino"-- the walk from the south of France to the city where Saint James was buried at the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela. This is a Catholic pilgrimage of several hundred miles or more. Some take the big walk as an expression of religious devotion; others take the journey as a personal spiritual encounter.

My friend Reed, asked me to visit Spain. He knew my mother's family has roots in Galicia and we will eventually visit her home village of Sada, a fishing town situated above Portugal. So my Camino is part tourist trip and a return to family ancestry. Instead of a walk, we took a massive 12 hour train journey, from Barcelona to Santiago. Okay, it's easier riding a comfortable train, complete with a cafe car, than traversing miles of Spanish countryside.

The Renfe train revealed very productive land for the first several hours. The many miles of cultivated land impresses me with Spain's agricultural richness. Believe it or not, I visited Spain in 1963 as a 14 year old. Okay, so I'm older than you! My Aunt Carmen took mt to Espana to expose an American teenage kid to our family's homeland. We started in the south. We saw arid land and beautiful orchards of olive trees with shimmering leaves of silver. The cork trees really shocked me. The bark had been carved out, to make corks, I guess, for wine bottles. The trees survived despite have big square blocks carved out of their sides. We saw Malaga, Sevilla, Córdoba and Granada. Spain seemed more isolated in 1963. Nobody spoke much English. Times have changed. The average  storekeeper or citizen in the street now chatters away in English before "puedo hablar ni una palabra."

I went to Galicia in 1963 and spent a month here. I come back an older person and to the nueva Espana. I'm glad Spain has gone through all these changes. Maybe when We get further into Galicia, to A Coruna, Vigo, Orense, Vigo, Lugo and Pontevedra and Sada, of course, I will get to try out my rusty, high school Spanish. Galicia is green, with rolling hills, a bit of Irish greenery at the top of Spain. I love the orange tiles on the roofs of the homes. Tomorrow we will be by the seaside, the Atlantic Ocean crossed by my grandfather Juan Lopez and his wife, maiden name-- Dolores Garcia Tie. I've heard the stories from my mother Beatriz and my aunts Carmen and Dolores. Now I get to walk the streets of the town-- my own personal Camino.