9

     .       


             The restaurant was just one room jwith tables on the right, an L shaped bar to the left, and a catwalk running around the four walls above. The place was just about empty and  the clients were all local folks  Chloe saw a table where you could see the esplanade and the shady river. and asked him if he liked it. They sat down across from one another. Looking him straight in the face she was struck by how, well, funny, the details of his face were, definitely puffier  than on the photographs. Yet when that face became animated, teased in an understated manner, offered her a menu with subtle warmth, the whole was greater than the sum of its parts. What you saw was a boyish, intelligent, reserved guy.. It struck her too how he was straight, not "on", full of the witty come backs and one liners as in their virtual-self communications where peeks of the straight man sometimes peeked through. Especially now, when they were so new to each other, he was discreetly attentive, kind of like being on a first date, when it wasn't that at all. Just two people who became friends online sitting down to eat a local dish  in Sarria.

             In time the one waiter approached their table with the air of a formidablel maitre d'. Listening to their garbled Spanish, he repeated their order with a poker face  she realized it was not Spanish, but Galician he was speaking. At any rate, he brought them water, home made bread,  over easy eggs, bacon, and chopped steak, with potatoes for him and a salad for her. This salad was so huge, served on an oblong platter with a white pickled asparagus on top and some fresh tuna within that seemed to be the way salads went around here.

            When the maitre d' came to clear away their plates, she asked  him to show them where  they were on the map.  At last!! She saw exactly where they were and everything fell into place. They were on Ferrerio Malcecon Campo do rio, along the banks of  Rio Sarria. And the old town was just around the esplanade where they had come down.

            Sean got up to look for the bathroom. Chloe got  her change purse nd pulled out 50 Euros to tally up the check while he was gone. She saw him lingering at the end of the bar, not realizing what that was about till he came back.

            "Where is the check?'" she asked.

            "The check is gone," he said without irony.

             Her first impulse was to insist paying her share But in the next second saw that they were dancing, and she was all for dancing..She accepted graciously Some ineffable energy settled upon them as they turned out the door into the cool twilight.

             Passing by the long steps they now knew led up to the old town, they strolled around to the left till they came upon the street that ran  below the old town sitting like a toy village on top of the hill above them, with the steeples of Santa Marin pointing high.. Off of this street was one of those paved ways for pedestrians, with steps running right and left up between gardens and houses. 
            The path was inviting and they started climbing at a brisk pace She paused to get a look at the view, and because her knees were throbbing. The panorama was awesome. But he was plowing ahead without a glance. She called out to him and he stopped for a second to look but quickly turned back to climb.. There was something else though, when she he stared without a smile or look of camaraderie. Like he was not  with her, maybe found her wanting..But she had to be careful of her own projections and issues. He could also be afraid of something he wasn't sure he could handle.Though he would never admit it to himself. Not often a girl of this caliber came along his way. But what did she see in him? What would the old ladies at the church think, (not that he'd been to mass since he had to attend in school), if they knew he was doing this charity walk for his son's school not solo, but with this American woman..He would really fly them to the moon then..He had told Chloe in jest to tell people she was from Budapest, where she was born, rather than the States.
            They went on silently, breathing heavily, and suddenly unawares stepped back in time...they had entered the medieval stone paved streets of the old  town.

8

            .As they were crisscrossing and backtracking the center of Sarria,, population 13,000,  all of a sudden he just started pulling ahead of her some ten feet. Since they were talking she broke into a trot just to keep up the conversation."Hey,  slow down a bit." she said, and he did, but in a couple of minutes was  back striding ahead talking with his back to her.. She  would have to take it up to a gallop to keep up. What am I doing? She slowed down and took  it down to a comfortable, brisk  gate..

            "Hey, Free, would you slow down a tad ?" She called out , "This pilgrim has to take two steps for every one of yours lol.." To quote one of their online quips where he had typed back, "sure, what's the rush? This isn't a marathon."

            Sean stopped and turned around, a head  above the scattered local men passing by. him  Now if you could just imagine him 10,  naybe15 pounds less, and no double chin....maybe a little bit longer hair. Never the less, a  boyish charm reflected back at her, him with his red ruck sack on his back and Camino hat on, as he turned half way to her with his Brierley's Pilgrim's Guide  open in his hands like a prayer book.

            "I'm known for walking ahead of women at home.'

            "Charming. Is that why you're "freeagain"? His username on the film site.

            He laughed with self depreciative humor. She caught up with him and this time he tried to curb his Achilles' heels.as they wandered about looking for the right street and the Casa Mathias. Finally they found the right street but walked up and down three times before she noticed the inconspicuous sing over a doorway.

            Nobody answered the doorbell, till to their surprise an attractive woman's head popped out from the small photo shop next door.

            "Moment " she said disappearing back inside.. In a minute she  was out of the shop with the keys . Inside a conversation began about the room and price in an odd mixture of repeated phrases, gestures, English words attempted to sound Spanish by putting an "o" at the end of them,  till finally Sean's knowledge at least of the numbers in Spanish came in handy, She wished she had taken the time to print out at least some common phrases in Spanish.

            So they finally went up the narrow steps. The concierge got a set of keys out and Chloe knew instinctively she had misunderstood because  when they got to the room, it was clear she was assuming they would be sharing it. Sean picked up right away on the tone of her voice and took charge in communicating to their host that they wanted two swperate rooms. She went and got another pair of keys and opened up the next room cattycorner.. They were 20 euros each and as she was opening her wallet, Sean was already putting the euros in the woman's hands and blankly refused Chloe's money. Okay, so he wanted to be a man about it. She would accept.  She knew it had something to do with him telling her he felt bad she had to forlk out so much dough for the flight. Chloe stepped in to look at his room, both modest, each with a tiny bathroom and shower.. Then she said she was going back to her room and take a shower since she'd slept in these clothes on the plane.

            He looked at his watch and said, "Meet you in an hour?"

            "Sure" she said, feeling great thinking ahead of exploring the old town together. It would be a quick shower and marathon putting herself together. And sure enough, she was still drying her hair with a mini hair dryer she'd brought along  when he tapped  on the door. It was now an hour and ten minutes.  But she was put together enough, wearing the same clothes except for  a little cashmere sweater, buttoned up to the neck. It had dropped to chilly 50F outside. Her clean hair gave a silky feeling grazing her neck. Such a simple pleasure, such a luxury for free.

            It was very cool now and the streets were practically deserted; all the shops were closed. They meandered around looking for the old town clueless together..

            Then a cobble stoned path came into view; it cut a  across on a bridge over a little  river, a river that had it's banks built up like a canal as it flowed through town.. He said that this was the Camino, but it didn't really sink in for her that this was the pilgrim's path cutting through town here, coming from the Pyrenees, 400 miles to the east. There was a park like feel to the river and the esplanade that opened up down the steps from them. On the map they could see that here are two rivers in Sarria, but neither knew which one of the two this was. Not having any street signs to speak of was the main culprit

            The esplanade looked inviting with its iron fence along the river embellished in shell motives; restaurants on the ground floor of the even height, four story apartments overlooking the small rive, and line of trees across. A couple of local gals with long black hair bouncing on their backs, mini black skirts with leggings, quick stepped by them. The eateries were  closed but for a couple that still had tables out, and these looked like a place patronized by the locals. He was hungry, and though she felt okay, it sounded like a good idea to sit down among their host countrymen, and be face to face with one another for the first time at table.

7

 

            After paying, she went ahead and picked a window seat just behind the rear exit doors that were glass from top to bottom. She asked if he wanted the window seat, but he shook his head.  Being  a good bit taller, he would have no trouble seeing above her head. As they drove off it came over her like a wave how incredible it was that this physical  body, which she had only know as a mind before, was just a few inches from her arms. Sean was feeling pretty high himself. She was really beautiful, both inside and outside.. When he had opened the last photo she sent, he almost choked on his apple.. She had the face of a model. Her long straight hair was fab.. And he had seen that she was more like his age. She had a lot going for her over all the onlilne dating he'd done, and other women he'd met up with that he had known from on online communities, like that film site.. Pickings were slim now a days in the daily life he lead in the little gateway village outside of Wexford with his small family business. It was hard to meet people to date, not like in the old days, in Dublin, while he and Sarah were working it out. Now, with the child and his mother Sarah who lived a mile up the road he had to interact with because of the boy, things were quite. And this girl next to him had been an important element in his daily life the past year, the one that had lasted, emailing a good bit back and forth each day.. Something about her attitude. An aura. Not trying to define everything, not sweating the small stuff. Always full of surprises, and hard to pin down. He was so tired of drama with women  And this one had been cool, well, till just before they left. But one else had he sharing music, film and art, like they had. A major sustained stimulus, beside his little boy. His attraction to her Dolly Parton  curves were not to be dismissed. Good god, But knew better than to  entertain the merer thought. This was a serious pilgrimage, holy or not, it was going to be life changing, and he was not disbelieving in St. James.. He and Chloe were mates, on the buddy system.

            She'd never been to Spain . The Greek islands had enticed her from a long time ago. The bus drove up and down rolling hills and along long ridged mountains. The houses and towns reminded her of Greece, but mellower. Stucco houses, often with red slate roofs, the courtyard garden, and fruit trees outside, not unlike in Hungary.  They drove through several towns which had none of the urban sprawl as back in the States, The buildings on either side when  they passed through on of the towns, were modern, the buildings all no higher than six stories, with apartments above and stores and cafes below. The locals were smartly dressed, cosmopolitan casual

            The humming of the engine, the swaying of the bus, and having gotten three hours sleep made her nod off  try as she might to keep her eyes open. She'd jerk to with a start, finding herself leaning into him as they were going through a curve After adjusting herself she continued to peer out at the countryside where she noticed the preponderance of windmills on the long ridged mountain----or were they just big hills? Then she noticed pilgrims walking by the side of the road. One woman with a couple of big dogs turned out from what looked like the path.  I t had not occurred to her that the Camimo crossed metropolitan centers or abutted  highways .She had thought it would be all idyllic pastoral paths from the Middle Ages.  That was what you saw in the youtube videos he shared with her.

            After a couple of hours they reached the Lugo bus station. It was one of those old fashioned bus stations with wooden benches and bars, not glass windows, across the ticket counter. She made it a point to stand in line with her money in hand to buy the next round of tickets . They waited outside on benches. He got up and  went back inside and came back with  some of his Kit Kats and Snickers.

             "Want some?" he asked as soon as he opened the Kit Kat and thrust it toward her.

             She laughed "no thanks"  and said,

            "But thanks for offering,'.

             The bus finally pulled up and along with other pilgrims straddled up like them. They stood in line, waited for the luggage compartment to open, slipped their packs in, and then piled into the bus, getting the front row seats. She was able to stay alert and feasted on the countryside, dozens of white windmills on the horizon everywhere, towns bustling with the Galicians, whose style she was liked. At last they arrived in Sarria and pulled into the bus terminal.

            They got their back packs and actually put them on their backs, not just slung on their shoudlers. He had his  John Brierley guide book out and invited her to take a look at the map of Sarria. As a girl she had learned from her father on their travels that the first thing you  do a new place is get a map. So she was looking at this map of Sarria she had never studied before and to where he was pointing to the old town. She assumed the top of the page was north and looked  like it would be on the other side of the fence where the buildings looked old., but when they asked, they were directed the other way, out the drive and a modern looking section.

            They walked in that direction pointed to them for the street Calvo Sotero. Along the practically deserted streets, they stopped the rare local.and asked how to get to Calvo Sotero.. She liked the good natured way he approached strangers. How friendly everyone was!

             But they just kept on walking around in circles, only then did she realize the map didd not have north at the top, but west. The bottom was east. But itt was fun meandering like that in the attractive but closed up retail section of Sarrria. The buildings were all about five stories high with apartments upstairs. And they kept asking people where Casa Mathis was. and continued walking around in circles. There were  no street sings to speak of..

6

            "What seat do you have?" she asked.

            They compared tickets and were seated way apart.

            "We can change that," Chloe said, "The travel agent told me it would be no problem."

            "Let's go see," he said rising, inviting her with his eyes.

            At the counter they said not a problem, and asked for their tickets and passports.

             "Ms. Clhloe Fodor?"

             "Yes."

             "Mr. Sean Cain?"

             "Yes."

             Standing next to him leaning against the counter  gave her that feeling again of being with an old chum.  This was the same boy with whom she had sometimes exchanged rapid fire, witty, suggestive repertoires ?  Emails that had made her laugh giddily all day not  that long ago? Til one day a few months before the pilgrimage, she had caught sight of women doing the same with him, and  much more,  in the forum games, stuff they posted and on his wall. coming on to him in no sublet terms,  new women to the site rapidly expanding site. Whoa. The last thing she wanted was to be like any of them and immediately desisted. Let him teas her if he will, she would from now on be the straight-man... And here he was, inches from her, not doing a thing for the libido. But doing a lot for the id and ego. It felt like moving with her other, lost half. that none of her other guy pals made her feel. Nor had she carried on these daily witty repertoires online with any other guys either, whose emails eventually became banal and petered out. But not his. He always had a good comeback, a worthy  opponent . But who was she kidding, for aside from a few new friends from the inn and the hiking clubs, she did not have those pals she had had in Budapest two years ago,  never mind Nantucket, since she had moved to the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. And this feeling of camaraderie clicking she had not had  since that affair of the heart in Budapest. And Robert, all those years back and forth between Nantucket and Boston, but she certainly was not going to think about him now.... Gal pals, real ones, she was forging a couple of friendships, but nobody who really made her cork float.. The ones she truly loved were scattered across the vast Americas, some in Europe, most married and lost, except for two women she kept in touch with online who were a saving grace. Sean, she knew he was still hurt by his ex from his lyrical hints online, and surmised he was experienced in online dating.The tickets were adjusted  quickly enough and within minutes they boarded the plane.

            She sat by the window and he sat down beside her with his looming mass. The arm rest was up so it was  like sitting on a couch. She examined his clothes now. Yep, Working class country boy, just like he'd said. Nice.Though she felt no erotic attraction to him whatsoever, it still felt comforting to have his body close, but not touching. She made a point of not looking at him, and when she did take a glance, as they were talking, between comfortable lull moments, it was like a shock evrey  time she glanced at him how strange he seemed to look, but that was probably the Irish look and she was just not used to it, and how like a Quasimodo he seemed each time she laid her eyes on him anew, but then he became cute, and then as you related to him, he became surprisingly quite attractive. She could see that sparkle of being pleased in her company in his face. They felt smooth in one another's company, as smooth as the plane taking off now toward Spain.
             Their course took them out over the Atlantic for several hours and then it curved left. An irregular, craggy coastline full of inlets, ridges, and mountains appeared below them. Galicia. They banked left, inland and were flying toward Santiago de Compostela somewhere below soon. And so what was she doing this Camino de Santiago for? 
             For though she might not be religious, she thought of herself as a Christian mystic and this invocation to James the Great was serious. What a blessing to be finally be able to do this pilgrimage, a dream of a lifetime. So which devils was shet to cast off her back? What direction did she envision her life heading? How could she be a better man?.
             

            At the airport they went to get his rucksack. Walking with him as he disappeared ahead now as if they were not together, she wondered suddenly with a downturn of mood how he expected to be treated. Would he expect to go off  during the day by himself, to exercise his "freedom" so that she'd have to make her own agenda?  But as  he turned to her when he got his pack,  his look was appreciative and by the time they were at the gates, she felt a sense of confidence they were friends. and all would be well.

            "Wait, do you know where we're going?" she asked stopping suddenly as they crossed the road. They had been chatting away as two kids and had been walking ahead mindlessly.

            "No" he said.

            Ahead was what looked like other drop off pick up areas and taxi parking. She looked back by the airport wall and saw the bus stops and people randomly querying up..

            "Over there, I think," she said and they turned and walked back. toward the terminal. But there were about two stops. When the first bus came up, he climbed in and asked, "Lugo?" and the driver pointed back  behind him saying something. So they went to the other stop.

            "I thought you spoke fluent Spanish?" she said.

            "What made you think that? I speak a little French."

            "Doesn't your brother own a villa on the south coast somewhere? I figured you came to Spain regularly."

            "No, it's a condo, a time share. I've only been to Spain once, for a couple of weeks." She knew he'd been in Spain the summer before.

            "And then I was in Majorca, not visiting my brother."

            "Ah, Majorca. I have friends that went there. It looks pretty nice."

            "The old town really is."

            The bus pulled up and as they stood up, he picked up her bag also on his shoulder and carried it to  the cargo area. opened the door, and put in their packs. This felt really nice to Chloe.As intended. As they were querying up he gave her some Euros and said, "say 'dos etradas por favor'." as if he were her brother or something

            

            She had her little change purse out and was gesticulating with it , not taking the money, but he gave an emphatic shake with his writ, and said, "You can get me back next time."

5

           Glancing up from her magazine taking in the people still trickling in, their eyes met for a split second across the room. She looked back down at her magazine pretending to read There was a grace to his tall bodied stride down the ramp coming in from the main terminal. She panicked for a second lest she were going to feel awkward,  wreck the first impression...But, she thought, he's probably having some similiar houghts, and her poise came back. Alert but looking nonchalant she kept reading.till he sat down on the edge of the chair next to the little table she had her bag on, leaned in toward her as he rested his elbows on his spread knees.
            "Hi," he said.
            "Hi," she said.looking up.
         They smiled  at each another for a glance, as their eyes met in the course of them both surveying the terminal..

           "I almost thought I wouldn't make it," he chuckled.

            "Do I know you?" she said with a little ironic smile.

            "No, no" he chuckled glancing at her, looming there next to her with an understated presence, a calm not unlikely a little induced by the alcohol still carousing in his veins  from last night's send off at the village local.he had emailed her about. His easy going manner made her feel in her elements, the way you do when you  meet up with an  old high school chum you used to cut up with,  but not date Then he looked back at her and was saying something and it hit her with a start she could not understand much if anything of his brogue.

            "I'm sorry, but I can't understand a word you are saying," she said jokingly but serious..

            "It's okay. Just nod your head 'yes' at whatever I say," he said with the sang-froid of a seasoned comic.
             Well, guess it was a good thing he had never suggested calling her. How would she nod over the phone?  Never mind videcam, which sounded scary thinking about it for a novice like her coming late to the net.

            "I'm just a country Irish lad with me Wexford dialect." he grinned, and she laughed. She could pick out the words in that. His dialect was great. She liked the way he put things. But then had that not been the point of attraction?He pulled out a Kit Kat and Snickers bar and asked her if she wanted some. She shook her head.

            "No thanks.What are you doing with that," she teased suspending judgment.

            "Hey, it's my vacation!" He intoned grinning..

             He looked nothing like she'd imagined. Yet felt familiar, comfortable. No pretty boy, that was obvious at a glance, but his broken nose was not as bad as he had hinted his concern several times in  joking. Just a prominent nose, bent a little to the side.Maybe one eye had been smashed. And that chin, it was Stephen Fry!!! But his washed out baby blue eyes opened wide from under their hoods as he smiled and that drew you in. His Celtic warrior hair was straight dirty- blond, cut with bangs. Like a do at home job. He made her laugh. God.She had flirted with this character at sometime online? No, she would not have been attracted to him at a bar or party. Not right off, anyway. Maybe in a group of friends.She could see where girls would find him a charming boy., though, looking past the hook nose.. The whole was greater than the sum of its parts and there was a presence about him, and that  felt attractive. He seemed reserved, but ready to be mischievous at the slightest provocation And he was tall, massive biceps.

            But she knew this guy from the inside.That's how she thought of it  anyway because it was the first time she had ever gotten to know anybody on a daily basis, on the net. just from their mind, sight unseen.  She never had done any e-ralationships, no online dating, and who had been looking for anything anyway? It was just a movie site.And this friendship had bloomed innocently enough. But now she kept drawing a blank as  to any of their fencing, sparing, playing. It was just the present moment, being becoming.

              He had missed the bus in his village. Barely made it on another to get here..

              "Did you think I had stood you up?"

              "Was just planning the benefits of trekking solo."

               They were interrupted by the appearance of flight attendant who were soon opening  the glass doors and the speaker finally announced their flight. 

            "Where is your bag?" she asked somewhat surprised.

            "I checked it in. Like having my hands free."

            She nodded and swung the bag  around her shoulder  As they got up and walked side by side for the first time, he stood over a foot above her. Somehow, he didn't exactly have the build of a runner, ex- boxer, or footballer as she might have expected You could tell she'd been out in the spring sun already t but he still looked a bit winter pasty. When he ran on Curracloe beach, were the sun rays weaker up in Ireland? But you gave the benefit of the doubt..

            They sat down once again and waited to board the flight to their destination,  having just ended one.

4

        
          But time was ticking by and one had to wonder. Sure, there was still and hour till boarding, but that was cutting it pretyt close. And then the airline people arrived and puttered about the counter by the side of the glass doors, about to open them. Was this a practical joke? Only minutes till the doors opened and they could go to their boarding gate and no sing of this guy. Was one of her gal pals really right wondering if she could trust him to show? Had it all not been a bit too casual, and he had never called....

           It suddenly hit her  that she might be doing this pilgrimage solo and she had no guide book nor had planned anything. This was the first time someone else had worked out the details for a trip, if you could call the Camino a trip. She could tell he had worked hard to plan out the daily section, the distance between the town they stayed in and the town they planned to reach the next day, which albergue to spend the night in, the three days in Santiago with a day trip to Finisterre. All contingent, depending on how far they could walk. She had already warned him  that being a midget, every step of his would take two of hers. He asked her if she had any particular albergue she wanted to stay in.Whatever you choose is good. After all, what did she know or care about the albergues except that they were different kinds of hostels? The sojourn was the main thing at the moment.. 
           When Chloe and her ex used to travel,  she had been the one with the knack for reading maps and  studying the guide book. Now, she'd only read up on the Camino on line, mainly about it's history, a couple of blogs he had sent, some youtube videos, and had seen the movie The Way. But she had not studied any guide book or any maps. A guide book you carefully picked out to be the right one was your bible. There was no time to buy a guide book now and when she landed in Santiago, she'd have to find out how to catch a bus to Sarria winging it.Then find a place for the night without a map. Nor had she brushed up on her Spanish, assuming her guide spoke Spanish, as she was more user friendly with French and Greek. This was to be her first trip to Spain.

            She'd done her fair share of traveling alone as well, and was not really into it anymore but it was becoming fast clear she might jsut have to get into it. .Something must have happened.She knew this person from the inside, his mind, if you didn't count for the projection.and transference.But still, she had not intended to do the Camino solo, though many people did and just made friends along the way. She wanted to share it with friends she already had.. She had wanted to do it with her girl friends for years but their time or pocket books had not been in sync.. The plane ticket had been dear and she had sold her great grandmother's diamond ring on Ebay for half of what it was worth  to get it.
         .  After watching him interacting with others as well as her on the film site for the last 18 months, and in the last 11 months having emailed and private messaged daily, several times a day, and exchanged little gifts in snail mail, she  had a sense of the ambiguity of his character for which she still gave him the benefit of the doubt for...It had bowled her over him telling her just last month  that he was a singe father of a six year old boy.This news had made her rejoice as she praised the pictures he sent her of his beautiful blue eyed son, but it had also put her a little off guard, while she asked no personal questions.
          It was probably better he'd never called, anyway, because she was no phone chatter herself with her friends. It would seem that would quickly get old. But by typing, never mind the music and film videos they shared, one could engage in funny battle of the wits that could be drawn out day to day and keep the momentum  going. .

          She recognized him the minute she caught sight of him, though he looked nothing like she had imagined.

3

            Out in the the glare of the milling terminal with high-end shops lining the court reminding her of an upscale mall, she went to exchange dollars for euros. She couldn't help but wonder if he would jut materialize out of the crowds even though it was an hour early..

            When she had joined this movie site a year and a half ago, it had just started up.It was also her first PC, a small Dell laptop she could drop in her bag for anywhere. The computer was something she'd only used for a word processor till then. On Nantucket Island many of her friends were on line but it just did not interest her. She had so many friends  and bartending at The Brotherhood of Thieves kept her on her toes  while  in her spare time she liked to read Dostoyevsky and Chekov. But here in the mountains even with the barkeep job she had lined up at the local country inn, life was a cloister compared to the island, even in the dead of winter..The old inn had a cool manager, a woman she'd met before on island, who got the best bands on Saturday nights which drew crowds from all over the valley. And yet, though she'd met a lot of new people in the last two years, the Yankee mountains were nowhere as casual and inclusive as cosmopolitan, laid back Nantucket. So watching free movies on line at night, in lieu of getting a satellite dish, was a real God sent.
            You could say she was a rookie to the net. And what this new web site had done was incorporate the format of facebook and twitter with a chat box on the platform of an ever expanding film library. The guy who started it up was breaking away from another site she'd been watching movies on. Several other linkers though at the time she was clueless to what that meant, who were fed up with that site followed him and joined the new site and soon were made moderators. Being friends with the three top women moderators at he time who had evacuated the other site with him, Ex-fighter was one of those linkers soon made content moderators. For her, it became evident that there was a whole new world of honing your social skills and the kind of persona you wanted to project opening here..

            That and commenting on and reviewing movies was really fulfilling in a way she could never have imagined. Her first interactions with users on her wall, and she had to learn that you answer them on their wall, was about films. The last thing on her mind was hooking up in real life with anyone and it had first surprised her to learn that people did phone one another and stuff. Those who posted their real faces for their avatars, and photos of themselves, and these were predominantly women, turned her off at first. She took  notice of this guy by his complimenting her on her wall about a  review she had worked on long and hard. This was months before she had the gumption to join in any of the forum games, though she had been "lurking" around them well enough. Yet it was in the games when she was finally brave enough to take the leap that their wits clicked And when their private messaging took off. They shared links to youtube songs, movies, poetry and art, and besides the comedian, the romantic boy in the Celtic warrior showed it's face.After New Years he introduced his real name, Sean Malone, and gave her his email address saying that she seemed like a genuinely nice girl and he did not want to lose touch with her in case the site went down, as many were doing.

            She finally sat down in a lounge area in the middle of the hustle How would it be talking to someone when you don't have three hours to think up a witty come back. And how did you say "lol" in person? Would he be much he like his virtual reality persona? Most of the time they were teasing and playing battle of the wits, not in common every day banalities Though in planning this Camino.they tended to put aside the irony, a bit anyway.. Months before they knew they were going to meet, she had teasingly asked him if people in Ireland kissed one another on both cheeks like they do in Hungary, where she'd been teaching English for a few years in between Nantucket and the Berkshires. In Ireland, he had typed back, when a fella met a person of the opposite persuasion, he grabbed her around the waist  and dipped her way back while planting a big smooch on her mouth. "Pucker up! lol" typed he.. At first she had been naive enough to wonder if he would act out this threat, but he had also said he would be wearing "lol" on his head.

2

            
           From near empty when she'd arrived, the waiting are swelled into a teaming mush-mash of human protoplasm in the two hours she'd been reading one of her New Yorkers. Boarding was announced. .It was great at last to be  walking through the tarp tunnel into the belly of the plane. Past the stewards and captain at the door came the bottle-necked aisle backed up with passengers loading their stuff overhead.This was just a timed relaxation in the tension of the dance. Her movements were  fluid as she scooted past a couple to get to her window seat. Even as petite as she was, it took some agility to situate her gear underneath the seat in front of her and stay in  form. And then the inevitable happened. It was their turn to take off, and the engines roared as you felt the energy pushing you back. And that fantastic moment when you feel the wheels leave the tarmac, and see then everything fall away and to become like an ant colony.  Two hours later they landed in Charolette where the performance art of opening and shutting  your bag, taking your shoes on and off, played a few times till  she finally slithered into her window seat.of the overseas flight to Dublin.

            Every time she flew coach overseas, which was most of the time, where you were supposed to sleep on the overnight flight, anticipating sleeping in that position filled her with dread. She fished out a New Yorker and noticed the couple next to here was reading books.Then after the whole ceremony of being served dinner, given free wine because they had run out of dinners and their row had to wait while everyone else was happily munching away, but both she and the couple declined and had diet cokes, and water for her; so that, followed by the clean up,  the start of a movie you had to buy earphones for, the lights dimming so you had to read by the overhead beam: you get to a point where leaning against the wall on an airline pillow, covered by a thin airline blanket was not such a bad idea. Before you know it, you wake up with a jerk and see only two hours have passed. Next time it's one hour and that's it. The sun is starting to light up the horizon.

            . The sun was blazing on the horizon, and the sea blinded her. Quays were lining up for the toilets. The breakfast carts rumbled along at snail's pace with steaming coffee or tea. She made a quick run to one of the tiny toilets to freshen up,  and finally was eating ham and cheese with delight, leaving the bread,  and sipping piping hot tea. Apparently they knew hoe to make tea here and it was not the usual let down.Then suddenly land--- was that possibly Ireland passing bellow them?

            It looked so familiar, a jagged coast line like a live satellite cam shot, thought she'd only seen it in movies before, all those patches of green bordered by lines of trees and stone fences, ant the little hamlets scattered about in between. Could that be Cork? They were stealing over sea side again and a long ribbon of beach was seen coming up ahead. Where was Wexford?  That had to be Curracloe beach. That meant Castlebridge was somewhere right there. Where was that village? But they had already passed over and were moving up the east coast.

            .Then she could see the city and knew it was Dublin They were beginning to drop for the airport  She could see  cars and buses below on veins of country roads. Now a four lane, Was he on that bus this very instant on his way to the airport?.

            He had kept joking about himself being a scary looking man, an ex fighter with a broken nose, but she thought he looked kind of cute with a boyish face and big round eyes in his photographs, bulging biceps, the best you could tell from that odd angle holding the camera down at his waist shooting a portrait in the mirror. But the blue eyes he spoke of did not show. His hair was a dirty blond.

             Last year when he was formally ( if one could ever call his tone completely straight, like, when was he not on? ) introducing himself, he let it be known that he was forty one. She had kept her age to herself, and he was too tactful to insist. But the pictures she's sent him were good and clear and spoke for themselves and he had guessed her to be 28 or early 30's begging pardon  if he were presuming wrong. She just laughed and called him a funny boy. Why spoil the mystery?

            Since she had first read about the Camino de Santiago by happen chance in an old Atlantic magazine, she had wanted to do this trek.As much fun as it sounded, you could not evade the fact that it was a  holy pilgrimage to the Cathedral of St. James, tread by hundreds of thousands before her, kings and queens and paupers, some on their knees.
           What were her intentions? What miracle was she  to ask of James the Great was a question haunting her the pas two months. If miracles were even in order  when  all you could do was not even a fifth of the whole 500 mile pilgrimage. But were  one so bold, what was worthy to address one of the best friends of Jesus of Nazareth for his consideration after the rivers of thousands of souls migrating in his direction, all with their personal intentions. She wished she could ask for all the little girls in whorehouses around the world to be miraculously freed, but knew such were not the miracles one asked forl. Probably freedom from a few demons of the past, and courage to be what she was meant to be, so she could give something back and leave the world a better place. If such a thing were possible. Even were she not inclined toward Christian mysticism,  it had to be a life changing experience, if it already wasn't. Would you come out the same person as you had gone in? Hope not.

            Then Dublin airport was in plain view with it's flashing tower, and they dropped rapidly, flying level with the ground, poised for touch down. After they disembarked and  even before they had to walk the endless corridors and security checks, she turned into the first ladies lounge. She unpacked her toiletries eager to scrub her face; brush her teeth.. Then in the stall she did a complete sponge bath with those toweletts  mother had given her ages ago in college, scented ever so lightly with some cologne. Back at the sink she  put on a light touch of foundation, brown mascara, and pink lip gloss. To fluff up her baby fine hair, she sprinkled baby power close to the roots. It was such fine hair. She could ruin it with one overheated hair dryer. Then she shook it out over he shoulders ready with confidence to face come what may..

            Walking out into the glare of the milling terminal with high-end shops and cafes lining the court, she kept wondering if his face might not  just morph out of the crowds. Would she really recognize him? Even though it was two hours till he said he'd arrive, at eleven, she would not put it past him if he'd just pop up in front of her.

1

         On a road perhaps less traveled, but it had bought her here just the same, being let off at the main gates of Bradford airport.  Mitch and Laura, a couple from the church, tucked away on the Mohawk Trail, where Chloe sang in the choir, had given her a lift. On the drive down  from the mountains they told her of their Mont Blanc wayfaring in the Alps from  Chamonix to Mount Blanc, backpacking, sleeping in rough shelters, and  having to carry sufficient food and water along because villages were so few and far in between.
         After their goodbyes, Chloe strode into the bustling airport, her steps  light and free. Heads turned. Shining ash blond hair bouncing off her shoulders didn't hurt. Her body moved in a fluid manner. She had a pleasant sense of being fully present, yet detached..It still took her off guard when she caught a man turning after her. But she knew better than to take it personally It so had nothing to do with who she was inside, and who she wanted to become.. The last year of working out twice a week in the women's Nautilus room did not hurt either. Nor the payoff from the discipline in her food plan. All hadsome little to do with this happy confidence that is, well, attractive.Women's faces lit up with a smile as their eyes brushed in passing..But it was something much more than mere physicality, it was a light in the heart..
          Her luggage was a vintage Jensport back- pack with well padded shoulder straps in a teal color she loved; and had owned since way back in college but never really used so it looked pretty new considering, and was in fact, perfect. Her hand tooled leather purse was looped around her belt and lay flat against her hip. A petite natural blonde, (well, if you didn't count the lemon juice she sometimes squeezed on her hair as she was drying it and absorbing some vitamin D on the deck of her little cottage in the woods where she had left her dog, worried perhaps in the wrong hands), her curves showed to her advantage by a pink tank top and tailored by a loose, short-sleeved black sweater; snappy with narrow jeans and black Timberline boots.       
          It was so early.no one else was at the check in. The airline people did a  little double take when they realized she only had that one small back pack for a transatlantic flight.
           Life was mysterious, full of possibilities; everything in the here and now. There were a few inconsistencies perhaps,  but she'd  work them out later to see what if anything needed attention..Now,this was all there was, and all was good. At the first security stop, when she smiled at the officer, his face lit up. A charming, pretty girl smiling at him, not one of these pinch nosed models with a sour face. He didn't use that formal official voice with her, but his social one

            "Where are you traveling today Ms.Fodor?" he said flipping through her passport.

            "Santiago de Compostela, Spain."

            "Why are you flying to Spain today?" he said his voice inadvertently slipping back to chilling formality.

            "To walk the Camino de Santiago."

            "What is that?" his.ears pricked up..

            "It's a walking pilgrimage, which dates back to the Middle Ages, to Santiago de Compostela, in north western Spain. You carry everything on your back, and sleep at hostels along the way in villages."

            "I've never heard of it. Are you walking alone?"

             "I'm meeting up with a friend in Dublin, just a sheer coincidence my flight connected with his on the plane to Santiago" she laughed.

              "That's good, meeting up with your friend in Dublin."

             "Well, we've never actually met; just got to know each other over a couple of years on a movie site." just as she heard herself saying this, she realized it was information she did not have to share. Spilling, that is what she was working on extinguishing. To say less, be more enigmatic, not try to define everything.

            "Now that is interesting," he perked up," but you've talked?"

            "No."

            "You've seen his photograph?"

            "Yes." Well, if you could call the bad images he'd taken of himself in a mirror doing the job. What was it with people taking self portraits in mirrors? Didn't their cameras have timers? The image she'd sent of herself (a self portrait taken with a timer that she'd made for her passport picture) he emailed back was a Magyar princess.

             "Hmmm, well, I'd say that's unique" the officer shook his head "you don't hear of something like that too often. Meeting up on line like that, somebody across the sea, but never talking,  and then meeting for the first time, on a pilgrimage. Like in a movie" he smiled as he handed her passport back to her "Have a wonderful experience, you and your friend."

            And it was bound to be. Whatever was going to happen, she had to prove nothing, if she could only be mindful enough to say little and listen much..