It is approximately 50 kilometers between Ribadesella and Villaviciosa. The alburgue at the halfway point was closed on Mondays and all the hotels at the halfway point were full. We decided to spend the money and take a cab from Cangis de Onis to Villaviciosa. It was a beautiful drive through the Picos de Europa. Marco and I both need a rest day and we are taking one in Villaviciosa.
As the waiter put this placemat down on the table in front of me I commented, in my fractured Spanish, that I loved this Edward Hopper painting. I have a print in my living room. I told him I saw the original at the Chicago Art Institute. He said that was impossible because this painting is hanging in a museum in Madrid. I googled it and showed him that this painting is on permanent display at the Chicago Art Institute. He looked down his nose at me and insisted that I was wrong and that this painting is in Madrid. I gave up arguing with this guy and ordered a bocadillo.
Marco and I are thinking about hijacking this train, filling it with pilgrims and driving it to Santiago.
I saw this letter on the internet today and thought I would share it with you. Sullivan Ballou was an officer in the Union army during the civil war. On the evening before the first day of the first battle at Bull Run he had a premonition that he would not survive the battle and wrote this letter to his wife to say goodbye and let her know how much she meant to him. I purposefully avoided calling it a love letter because I think it is so much more than a love letter. The following is an excerpt from that letter.
“Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistingly on with all these chains to the battlefield. The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me and I feel most grateful to God and to you that I have enjoyed them for so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, few and small claims against Divine Providence, but something whispers to me – perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar – that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name. Forgive my faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been. How gladly I would wash out with my tears every little stain upon your happiness. But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth, and flit unseen around those they loved, I will always be near you; in the gladdest days and the darkest nights, always, always. And if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah, do not mourn me dead; merely think I am gone and wait for me, for we shall meet again.”
Can you read this letter and not get even a little teary eyed? The rest of the story is that Sullivan Ballou was killed on the first day of the Battle of Bull Run. His farewell letter was delivered to his wife Sarah at the same time she was notified of his death.
I hope you had a good day wherever you are. No steps, no kilometers and no stairs climbed today.
AbeAndMarkontheCamino 