Today it was rainy and I couldn’t help thinking of the rainy days during the Camino. I will write more about it when it is the anniversary of those days, for now, I want to dwell on today with all its promise. I awoke from a deep sleep full of dreams that made no sense. Then had breakfast at Elsa and Hilario’s and set out to get what we needed to bake the hojarascas, the flaky cinammony and anise flavored sugar cookies. After a very late lunch–a chicken salad sandwich–Elsa declared, “Let the baking began!” And so it did. Always so much more fun when it is a shared task. We made dozens and dozens of the delicious “wedding cookies” that are a staple for the holidays; we will share the goodies with neighbors and colleagues this coming week. I’ll take some to my friend Carmen Tafolla’s class and of course to my own classes as an end of the semester treat. The cookies are placed in special plates and wrapped in cellophane tied with a pretty bow. We felt such a sense of accomplishment to see the pretty packages all lined up. It was a fitting task for a rainy Sunday evening. Last year, I didn’t get to bake the traditional Christmas cookies; Elsa and Elvia did. I missed the traditional tamalada at my Mom’s, too.
When Becky and I were on the Camino, it was not an option to claim we couldn’t walk because it was raining; the Camino pulls one and it is hard to resist. It was particularly hard for those on a bicycle. The rain, some claimed, was a blessing, at least it wasn’t snowing! We agreed as we donned our rain ponchos. I had not bought one and therefore was getting soaked, although I wore my parka and the rain proof pants over the rain resistant flannel-lined ones. Still, the humidity penetrated and the wetness permeated all the way through. Today’s steady drizzle reminded me of those kind of days when we yearned to arrive at the albergue, take a hot shower, eat something and just lie down on a cot and sleep. It was colder than it is here too.
On those days, I would be reminded of songs about rain, especially Karen Carpenter singing….”sometimes I’d like to quit…walking around…Rainy days and Mondays always make me weep.” Not unusual, for we often thought of songs. We even sang some although neither Becky nor I are very good at remembering the lyrics for an entire song. Acutally Becky surprised me because she did remember the lyrics to one song, but not the Carpenters’ song. Even today, I kept thinking of the song, Rainy Days and Mondays.
It is 3 in the morning on Monday December 5, and sound of rain lulls me to sleep. As I did so many times on the Camino, I will fall asleep to the sound of rain.