Walking long days can push you to your edge.

So when you’re walking long days with other people, sometimes everyone’s edges bump up against one another.

But more often, what comes out is something beautiful.

Someone will have a blister, and someone else will have exactly what they need.

Or someone runs out of snacks, and someone else offers an extra tangerine.

Often it’s in the small things that you see love on the Camino:

Slowing your pace just enough that the person next to you won’t fall behind.

Carrying your roommate’s suitcase down to the lobby.

Grabbing an extra coffee or an extra cold drink.

A host offering to find a restaurant in town where 12 people can sit together.

Someone listening to someone else tell about losing someone they love.

Someone making someone laugh when they are too tired to keep going.

On the Camino, there is love to be found every day if you are awake to it.

And I suppose that is true everywhere in the world.

But on the Camino, I am paying better attention. I am watching for it. And I think maybe I am more ready to give love as well.

Ted and Stephanie, who you might remember as the owners of an extra suitcase, arrived on the Camino after they had been traveling together all over Europe. They were sightseeing, but they were also still working remotely, so they would start their work day in the afternoon.

I expected that they might be tired of traveling and juggling work. I thought they might even be a little tired of each other when we all met up in Porto.

But they were not. Far from it.

They literally held hands every day while we walked the Camino. Not all day, but at multiple times throughout the day. It was absolutely precious.

They were good-natured and genuinely happy to be together. And seemingly happy to be with all of us as well.

They showed up with love on the Camino.

And this has been a theme all year…folks showing up with hearts open and ready for the walk and for the new friends they are going to make along the way.

It’s been fun to watch.

Since I often pray that I can meet everything and everyone in my path with love, I have enjoyed learning from others this year about how to do just that.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog a fabulous year of walking. During December, I’m inviting you to come along with me on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here. Or subscribe to get stories to your inbox here.

The post Mini Walking Stories: Love on the Camino appeared first on Alison Chino.

Hey y’all, do you think you can all be ready in an hour to walk to Santo Antonio church together for the pilgrim blessing?

We had just finished a long day of walking, but I had read about a pilgrim’s mass at a church in Barcelos that I wanted to attend. I told everyone that it was totally optional.

You can just meet us at the restaurant if you want a little more time to decompress after the day.

But one fun detail about this group was that they were consistently game for whatever I threw at them. They were all ready to go to church at the appointed time.

We planned to slip in the back pew, maybe not even stay for the whole service if it ran long. We had an 8pm dinner reservation.

But two volunteers met us at the front door and ushered to the special seating reserved for pilgrims. We sat down off to the left of the congregation in a choir stall, so that we were facing everyone.

I guess we won’t be slipping out early, I whispered to Stephanie.

The church was packed on this Tuesday evening mass, not with pilgrims, but with folks from town for whom I assumed this practice of evening mass was a regular one. There was singing and readings and faces lit with joy.

Everything was in Portuguese, so our group plus one other pilgrim from Germany, sat and joined in where we could. Sometimes a chorus would repeat and we could sing part of it.

At the end of the service, the volunteers brought us to the front of the church for the special pilgrim blessing, which the priest read in Portuguese, English and German.

The whole crowded church participated in the blessing. You could tell that this business of blessing pilgrims is a ministry that they all embrace as part of being a church along The Way.

We learned that many of them have walked the pilgrimage route themselves. They have a heart for folks walking the Camino, so they make sure that two volunteers stand outside the church every evening to welcome any pilgrims who come.

When the service finished, our volunteers ushered us off to a side room where they had gifts waiting for us: a bookmark and a list of other places along the Portuguese Camino that offer pilgrims’ mass.

There was a world map on the wall full of pins representing the many places from which pilgrims had journeyed to walk this Camino. We added our pins to the others. We were excited to place the first pin on the state of Arkansas.

Joy

They also asked us each to choose a rock from a collection that had been hand-painted by a woman in their church who especially loves the Camino.

Diane chose one that had the world JOY on it. She later said that she chose it because it echoed her Bible reading from that morning. She had read these words from Psalm 5:

Let all who take refuge in you be glad,

Let them even sing with joy.

She said later that her rock is special to her because it’s a reminder of God speaking the same message to her from all different directions, just for her heart. JOY was the world God continued to speak to her throughout our time on the Camino.

Before we left, the volunteers asked us if we needed anything. Did we have a place to stay that night? What about water? I had the sense that if we had presented any immediate physical needs, these ladies would have done whatever they could to meet them. When we walked back through the church, we paused to take a photograph with the priest who had blessed us.

He and Diane’s son, Alex, were speaking together in Spanish, and I think they could have continued visiting well into the evening had we not interrupted them.

We left the church with hearts full and with our new pilgrim friend from Germany, Kerstin. She joined us for dinner that evening and brought along another friend as well. At the restaurant, we sat chatting with them for so long that they missed their curfew at their hostel. They had to find someone to open the door and let them in.

We saw Kerstin many more times on the Camino and shared several more meals and masses. I felt like our shared experience at Santo Antonio in Barcelos bonded us together for the journey. Meeting her was one of the many gifts we received at our special pilgrim blessing in Barcelos. We will remember it always.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog a fabulous year of walking. During December, I’m inviting you to come along with me on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here. Or subscribe to get stories to your inbox here.

The post Mini Walking Stories: Pilgrim Blessings appeared first on Alison Chino.

Something you might already know about me is that I like to travel light.

It’s a point of pride for me to leave home for weeks at a time with only my trusty blue 24 liter backpack.

Sometimes when I’m walking with a group, I find that supplemental things I carry – a first aid kit, extra snacks and water, etc – make my rucksack quite full.

Usually I have everyone else’s bags transferred each day, so that people only carry a small backpack on the trail. So I have started bringing a tiny collapsable backpack that I cram with my clothes and toiletries to be transferred with the rest of the bags. That way my backpack isn’t so heavy during the day. The small pack is also a waterproof liner if I need to use it in my backpack in the rain. And it doubles as a purse or shopping bag in the evenings. It’s so handy!

So when I arrived on the Camino in March, I had this small pack transferred each day along with the suitcases. After my first ever Camino with the princesses when we had way too much stuff, I now limit everyone to one small carry-on suitcase and one small daypack. It felt a little silly to pay to have my tiny backpack transferred each day, but I appreciated having less weight to carry around.

So in June, on the Portuguese Camino, I was planning to repeat this process.

But my friends who were joining me – let’s call them Ted and Stephanie – had been traveling around Europe already for several weeks. And it seems they had acquired a few souvenirs. Stephanie texted me before I arrived and asked if there would be any extra space in the luggage.

I replied: SURE! Why don’t you buy a big collapsible duffel bag that we can both throw our stuff in. I’ll toss in my little pack of clothes and you can fill the rest with your souvenirs. Since I was going to move my little bag anyway, I won’t have to charge you for a whole extra bag.

When I flew to Porto, I discovered that Ted and Stephanie had not bought a duffel bag. They had purchased a small European sized carry-on suitcase. European carry-ons are much smaller than American ones. They are for tiny Ryanair and Easyjet flights.

The bigger problem was that this tiny suitcase was already full of cheese and wine. I couldn’t just pop my little bag into it. Instead, with quite a bit of effort, I could squeeze my clothes around the souvenirs. Even then, I could not properly close the suitcase. The suitcase had to be perfectly aligned in order for the clasps to work. And when you sat on it, it would just bend, and then it would no longer be aligned. You had to hold both sides of it in alignment and close it at the same time.

After a couple of days of fighting with their new suitcase, and dragging it into the lobby to ask for help with closing it, Stephanie came up with a plan. She and Ted would take care of packing and unpacking the suitcase, and I would stop resenting their souvenirs. Now when we arrived each day, they would deliver my small bag of stuff to me. And in the mornings, I would deliver it back to them, and Ted would pack the suitcase. It was a daily comedy of errors.

Ted and Stephanie now had three suitcases that they unpacked and packed at every stop. I honestly have no idea how they ever made it on time to breakfast.

Missing Suitcase

We had another suitcase adventure just outside of O Porrino a day after we crossed the border into Spain. When we arrived at our guesthouse after a long, hot day, we discovered that one of the suitcases was missing.

Our host helped me to track down the driver who said that they knew they had one missing and they would bring it later. So poor Diane, who was the owner of the neglected suitcase, had to go to dinner without a shower and clean clothes. She was a great sport about it though. She said that she was glad it was her and not one of the other ladies who had just arrived.

(On the Portuguese Camino, five of us walked from Porto to Santiago, and seven more folks joined us for the section from Tui to Santiago.)

But when we came back from dinner, Diane’s suitcase had still not arrived. I got back on the phone with the company but did not receive assurance that our missing suitcase was still coming.

Our host had gone home for the day but his father happened by while I was trying to sort out the problem. Between my broken Spanish and another guest’s better Spanish, we communicated our problem to our host’s father. He then got on his phone and somehow managed to track down the suitcase. It was apparently waiting at a nearby post office.

I still don’t understand how it got there or how he found it. I also don’t know how one gets inside of a post office at 10pm at night. Undaunted by this detail, our knight in shining armor headed out with certainty that he would be able to retrieve Diane’s luggage. The other guest who had been helping us went along with him, just for the ride.

About fifteen minutes later, they returned with Diane’s suitcase, much to our delight. We all said goodnight. Diane headed off to the shower and I went to bed.

When Diane flew home at the end of our trip, somehow her suitcase was diverted to Miami and didn’t make it back to her house until a week after she had arrived home in Arkansas. That suitcase must have really wanted to have an adventure of its own.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog a fabulous year of walking. During December, I’m inviting you to come along with me on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here and subscribe to future stories here.

The post Mini Walking Stories: The (Mis)Adventures of a Suitcase appeared first on Alison Chino.

One morning on the Portuguese Camino, we met a couple from Ukraine who were living outside their home country when Russia started a war there.

Feeling helpless, they decided to walk the Camino to raise awareness about the war in their country.

Walking extra long days, they wore the Ukrainian flag on their backpacks, and stopped to tell anyone who asked about what was happening back home to their families and friends.

Olha, the wife, spoke perfect English, so everyone quickly gathered around her to listen.

But her husband, Ivan, was still learning English, and of course, none of us spoke Ukrainian.

But when you’re walking, you can’t all crowd around just the one partner who speaks English.

There were folks on either side of her and just in front and just behind, but some folks had to fall back and were not able to hear her.

Ted, who was with our group, had been using the speak feature on Google Translate already to talk to people, mostly in restaurants. He would talk into his phone and let the app translate and speak the request back in Portuguese.

So when he fell side by side with Ivan, he pulled out his phone and started using Google Translate to talk to him. I hadn’t really seen him use it for much more than to ask for a recommendation for wine or food, but Ted and Ivan talked back and forth for the entire stretch we walked with them, both of them speaking into the phone. They told each other about their families, their jobs, and their lives back home.

Even without smartphones, I am often amazed at how much of a conversation you can have with someone when you don’t share a language. You can get a lot across with body language, broken phrases and a version of charades.

But who knew we would one day be able to break through languages barriers with pocket-sized technology?

A few days later, the couple sent Ted a message. People had started to write messages and blessings on their flag, so they said we could add one as well if we liked. They would write it in for us. Diane sent back this message:

The Lord bless you as you walk the Camino telling others about your beloved country. You are keeping hope alive!

Later in the week, we rejoiced when they sent us a picture of their flag in the cathedral square in Santiago.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog a fabulous year of walking. During December, I’m inviting you to come along with me for a few minutes on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here.

The post Mini Walking Stories: Google Translate appeared first on Alison Chino.

I am a total sucker for a big tree-lined pedestrian promenade.

Whoever first had the idea to plant two gorgeous rows of trees to create a shaded walkway was a genius, as well as a visionary, because giant trees take a long time to grow.

It’s like having a little bit of forest right in the middle of town. If you don’t have time to go to the woods, at least you can still get under the trees.

There is one in Bristol about two miles from my house and I walk myself over there at least once a week to walk beneath the trees.

We had one in Tübingen as well, dreamily set right alongside the river.

On our first week on the Portuguese Camino, we finished the day with a tree-lined walkway in Ponte de Lima. After we’d had our lunch, we headed back there to occupy several of the benches for our afternoon naps. It turned out to be the only place in town where you could be kissed by the gentle afternoon breeze from the river.

In the Parque da Alameda in Santiago de Compostela, you can walk under a similar row of trees, another perfect place for a rest at the end of your long walk.

When I pass a bench under these inviting trees, I long to sit down for a while. Even I am not tired, the benches seem to call out to me to come and enjoy them. To be present for a moment, and to watch others walking along the way.

Like I said, I just adore these tree-lined avenues.

And so when we walked into Padron on our second to last day of the Camino and from a distance, I saw that we were about to walk under a promenade of trees AND that there seemed to be a few restaurant tables set up, I thought, Dear Lord, I HOPE they have stopped there!

And by they, I am referring to the folks walking ahead of me on the Camino.

It was nearing the end of the day and we were all a bit spread out on the trail. There were a few folks ahead of me and a few folks behind me. And then in the middle there was me and a few others. We had just stopped at an open air market where I had grabbed a wheel of my favorite Galician cheese and a big fresh baguette.

Somehow I had a hunch that any snacks I had on me would be happily consumed by my fellow walkers.

Then we saw the tables,

situated merrily underneath the shade of the trees,

and as we got closer, we realized with delight that

YES, it was our group sitting there!

And they had already ordered drinks.

We joined them and pulled out our snacks while we waited for the rest of our crew to show up.

As folks arrived, they were immediately pulled into the welcome of the table, sitting down with relief in the shade.

Two friends ran back to meet the last straggler and walk the rest of the way with her.

They arrived to claps and cheers and soon there we all were, sitting under the trees like we would stay there forever.

And I believe I might still be there if the restaurant hadn’t eventually closed up for the afternoon. Soon the tables and chairs would need to be stacked and carried away. And so it was time to go.

Besides, we had a swimming pool waiting for us.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog a fabulous year of walking. During December, I’m inviting you to come along with me for a few minutes on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here.

The post Mini Walking Stories: Meet Me Under the Trees to Rest appeared first on Alison Chino.

How Always Stop For A Swim Became My New Walking Motto

We had been walking all day along the water, staring out at the crystal blue sky and sea on our left as we headed north.

For most of the bright blue June day, we were fully in the sun, but a consistent breeze had lessoned its heat.

Still, the more we walked, the hotter we became.

Making frequent stops is a theme of my time on the Camino and this day was no exception. You can only pass so many inviting seaside cafes with beach umbrellas before you have to stop at one. We stopped at three.

You could say we were having a leisurely first day on the trail, which is always a good way to begin.

But even with the stopping, by the end, we were all hot and tired, so we kicked off our shoes on the beach and ran out into the water.

And wow! There is just nothing more refreshing than cold water on tired legs.

Afterwards, we all spread out on rocks by the sea and nodded off like seals in the sunshine. It was perfect.

A couple of days later, after we had left the seaside, and we had been walking for a much longer stretch without the benefit of the sea breeze, we crossed over a small river on an old medieval bridge. On the other side of the bridge, we were able to access the river. Again, we jumped in the water and rinsed off the heat and sweat of the day before drying off on the grass by the river, taking a quick nap before wandering on into the town where we were staying.

This became a habit on this trip: jumping into water at or near the end of the day. I started keeping an eye out for places to stop for a swim on my map. It was unseasonably hot in Europe this past summer, so we found that even if you only soaked your feet and splashed your face, it made a huge difference to how you felt for those last few steps of the day.

When the rest of our group joined us halfway through our time on the Portuguese Camino, we immediately introduced them to the delight of jumping into water on a hot day. And if you crossed over some refreshing water earlier in the day, you could still soak a bandana or a buff to wipe your face.

Towards the end of the day, sometimes folks were in a hurry to just get on to the hotel or hostel, but often the last mile or so when you are entering a town is the hottest, because you’re walking on the pavement. A cold soak can be that little extra boost you need for turning the final leg from a slog into a victory stroll.

And so I would always stop for a swim when I saw a perfect spot. A cold, flowing river made my ankles and knees happy with me again, at least for a little while.

Four of the places we stayed on the Portuguese Camino had swimming pools, which was an equally delightful way to finish the day with a swim.

And one day, an especially lovely hostel host arranged for us to all be carried off in cars to the beach to splash in the water and quickly forget how hot we were.

Of course you must go to the beach! he said to me.

Yes, absolutely we must! I replied involuntarily.

And it was the most refreshing plunge of all the refreshing plunges. It had been such a hot day, and the sea immediately turned angst into laughter.

Though none of my other trips this year were as hot as the Camino in June, I still kept jumping into water.

I jumped into several lakes in Switzerland on hot days and soaked my weary bones in some Swiss streams. Pure bliss after all the ups and downs!

Then, in the Lake District, though it was quite cold and even rainy, there were two occasions where a few brave souls and I ended the day’s walk by jumping into a lake. I cannot even explain the urge to do this. Maybe it is the incredible relief that the freezing cold water provides for my joints. Or maybe I am just wildly curious about the spike in popularity of cold water swimming. But I think there must be at least some motivation having to do with my muscle memory around how delightful it was to end the summer walks in the water that produced my desire to jump in a cold lake after the Lake District rambles.

And so it came to pass that both my first walk of the summer in June and my last walk of the season in September ended with splashes in the water. Two very different days, but they both involved a good walk with friends with a swim at the end.

Last week I went for a swim in a nearby pool that has a sauna for your post-swim warm up (yes, please!), and while I was doing frosty laps in the pool, I was gratefully remembering of all my summer dips. I was filled-to-the-brim thankful for everyone who was willing to pause and hop in the water along with me!

Sometimes the only thing keeping you from a good swim is a fellow adventurer. The folks I most often hike with (Chino boys) are hard pressed to stop at all on a hike, much less for something as lengthy as a swim.

Unlace boots? Change clothes? Dig out a towel?

Taido Chino cannot be having that kind of delay in the schedule.

So I consider it a great accomplishment that this past summer I managed to coax him into a lake, not once, but twice!

Like I said, it was an unusually hot summer in Europe.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog a fabulous year of walking. During December, I’m inviting you to come along with me for a few minutes on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here.

The post Mini Walking Stories: Soak in all the Rivers + Jump in all the Lakes appeared first on Alison Chino.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog what has been an AMAZING year of walking. Every day during December, I’m going to choose one photo and invite you to come along with me for a few minutes on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here.

Casa Fernanda on The Portuguese Way

Some people are just naturally hospitable.

Or welcoming.

Some folks have the gift of being able to make you feel at home.

And then there is Fernanda, and also her husband, Jacinto, who have turned the act of simple hospitality into an art form.

They run a small pilgrim’s hostel (or albergue) at their home: Casa Fernanda, which is on the Portuguese Camino between the city of Porto and Portugal’s northern border with Spain.

From the moment our small band of five walkers arrived at Casa Fernanda, we forgot the twelve miles we had walked in the rain, because we were immediately swept up into the sheer delight of being in Fernanda’s welcoming orbit.

She ushered us onto her covered porch to escape the rain, where those who had arrived before us were already sitting and chatting. Fernanda’s easy manner with everyone made us all feel like long lost friends, both hers and each other’s.

She brought out drinks and glasses, and then she started making snacks for us in her outdoor kitchen. I wasn’t even hungry but the fried croquettes and skillet-sizzled Padron peppers smelled so good that when she set them on the table before us, I happily did my part to help make them disappear.

The whole time she was cooking, Fernanda was answering her phone to tell folks that she was full for the night. She hates disappointing folks but she only has 10 beds, 11 in a pinch. But when a man showed up with a giant backpack hoping to camp in her garden for the night, she squeezed him in as well. On the phone, she would tell people about other places that they could stay, trying to help everyone have a bed for the night.

We all took turns using the two showers in between chats on the porch and quick naps in the cabin that sits in Fernanda’s back garden. It is lined with two rows of quilt-covered twin beds, five on each side, and reminds me of summers at my grandparents’ house in the country.

For dinner, Fernanda cooked us a beautiful meal inside her house. We started with vegetable soup and a salad made with lettuce from her garden. Then the family style dishes just kept coming. We passed bowls of food and bottles of wine up and down the long table that lines her kitchen. Her husband Jacinto came in as we were eating and he exchanged his work jacket for an apron and started serving as well. Fernanda slipped out for a little while to go and help an older neighbor up the road from her, because of course her care for others extends beyond her own walls and into her community.

Those of us around the table started out fairly quiet but gradually became animated as the food and wine kept coming. We were all becoming fast friends under Casa Fernanda’s spell, learning each other’s names and where each pilgrim was from. Seven countries were represented among our small group. There were five of us from the States, and then the backpacker from Germany. Two ladies from the Canary Islands who had been best friends since they were children were doing the walk together. A gal from Germany we had met the day before had claimed the extra porch bed. And then three ladies from three different countries, who had met each other on a previous Camino, had reunited to walk together again.

Jacinto joked that we couldn’t leave the table until we finished all the plates of food, which we couldn’t do, but we came close. He also refused to let us help clean up, telling us to just relax at the table. Just enjoy yourself. We had dessert accompanied by his homemade schnapps, a drink he calls “firewater” and is made from the peels of grapes. It is not for the faint of heart.

And then just when I thought the evening was winding down, Jacinto asked,

Does anyone know how to play the guitar?

And it just so happened that yes, someone did.

Alex, my friend Diane’s son and our youngest companion on the Way, knows how to play the guitar quite well.

And so Jacinto brought out a guitar and we asked for a song. And then another. And another.

Everyone was requesting songs and pulling up lyrics so we could all sing along.

Fernanda came back from helping her neighbor into bed and joined in the singing. At the end of the night, she said, okay, one more! Do you know Hallelujah?

And everyone knew it and sang along. It was our good night serenade.

It was time for bed, which was heavy sleeping for some and lying awake listening to snores for others.

I was too wired to sleep, amazed that Fernanda and Jacinto do this every single day and night! The steady stream of pilgrims means that they are constantly engaged in this welcoming dance! They told a few stories of some of the adventures they have had hosting pilgrims for so many years. For example, when the pandemic hit, they had a man from Germany who ended up staying with them for two months as all the other pilgrim’s hostels closed overnight.

People return to the Portuguese Camino over and over to stay again at Casa Fernanda, and I can see why.

The next morning Fernanda and Jacinto filled us with a generous breakfast and sent us on our way with blessings.

They have a jar on the kitchen counter where you can leave a donation, but they don’t keep track of who pays what. They just trust that it will all come out in the wash.

In fact, even the guitar came from a guest who suggested that they should have a guitar, and then he later sent the money for them to buy one.

Fernanda and Jacinto embody the Spirit of the Camino, part of which is knowing that whatever you need will be provided when you need it. You can just trust. Just keep walking the way, one foot in front of the other.

What a privilege it was to stay with them!

The post Mini Walking Stories: Casa Fernanda appeared first on Alison Chino.

Mini Walking Stories is a project I’m doing this month to catalog what has been an AMAZING year of walking. Every day during December, I’m going to choose one photo and invite you to come along with me for a few minutes on one of the walks I took in 2022. Read more stories here.

A Sliver of Shade in Redondela on The Portuguese Way

80 degrees (F) is not that hot if you are sitting still in the shade.

It’s actually the perfect temperature for dining outside under an umbrella, especially by a river or a lake with a soft breeze blowing.

But 80 degrees on a walk in the sun, with very little shade, is a different matter altogether.

When you are stepping one foot in front of the other, again and again for more than 10 miles, and maybe you didn’t sleep very well because you still have jet lag or because your room feels too hot compared to your climate controlled, air-conditioned bedroom back at home, well then, 80 degrees feels like a heat wave.

And all of a sudden, you might feel compelled to tell me, the person whom you followed to a strange, new country (Spain) to do a strange, new thing (walk day after day after day) that you’re regretting very much having said YES when I invited you on this adventure.

You might feel inclined to tell me in great detail how you are feeling at the moment about this decision to be here, but you can’t really bear to waste the energy it would take to talk to me right now, so you’re relieved when someone else asks…ALISON, HOW MUCH FURTHER???

YES, you think to yourself, How much longer must I carry on before I can collapse?

You hear me say: It’s not far at all! Honestly, we are practically there. Here we are at the outskirts of Redondela. And LOOK, over there is a place selling ice cream! Let’s stop for an ice cream. My treat!

You follow me across the street to a tiny convenience store. When you crowd in with everyone else, you expect to feel the cool relief of blasts of air conditioning when you walk inside, but alas, it seems like it might actually be hotter inside the small shop than it is outside. You have to go back outside for relief, but first you choose an ice cream off the picture board. Only it seems that only some of the ice creams pictured are actually stocked by this small shop, so you have to settle for a drumstick over your first choice of a fudge bar and your second choice of a cookies and cream bar.

But it doesn’t matter. You don’t even care about the ice cream. You have to leave the stuffy air of this shop right now or you’re going to be sick. So you step back outside into the hot sun.

I finally emerge from the shop with my arms full of random ice creams and a few cold bottles of water. Then you follow me down the street to a teeny tiny corner of the sidewalk that the sun has not found with its relentless rays.

And for one moment, you feel some relief.

You eat the ice cream, even as it is melting and becoming ice milk, sticky and dripping onto your wrists, mingling with the sweat on your arms. You drink the water. You wipe your face with a bandana.

Ten minutes ago you thought you were not going to make it one step further, but right now, you are okay.

You don’t know that I am about to lead you into town, only to discover that in order to reach our lodging for the night, you will have to walk up a rather steep hill. And then after you march up that hill, you will have to climb four flights of stairs to your room. And then after you get up all of those stairs, you will find that your room is almost as stuffy as the ice cream shop and of course, there is no air conditioning. You don’t know what’s ahead of you, and that’s for the best.

Right now you have a tiny bit of shade and a very modest boost of energy thanks to cold water and a sugary treat.

Ten minutes ago, you were ready to sit down and cry but now here you are smiling and laughing.

The post Mini Walking Stories: A Sliver of Shade appeared first on Alison Chino.