blogs.bootsnall.com/nlw

That's the new blog I'll be using from Cairo. ENJOY!

We've come full circle and are ending the trip exactly as it began:

an absurdly long (overnight) stay at Heathrow, where the bathrooms are clean but the all mighty Pound crams our sissy, limp-wristed dollar down our throats with every soggy airport sandwhich we buy.

Even aside from the financial clobbering, we are ready to get back. We are ready to be home, if only to shed these clothes and the skunky poopsweat haze that has descended upon us. Don't just think this is a guy thing eithe; C smells like a barrel of fish heads as well.

5 more hours. Till we board the plane....mmmm

Update:
I just peed in the bidet.

After 6 weeks of always picking the right hole to aim at, I finally messed it up. The worst part was the attempted correction midstream.

Always double check. Always.

"Trogdor?" she asked, looking at the name I had jotted down on her little sheet.

"That's right. Trogdor."

Her face screwed up with determination and confusion, the young Asian woman tried to think of how she would translate the name "Trogdor."

The sun was setting in the Piazza Niccolo in Rome. I had just shelled out a Euro and indicated that I wanted my name written in Chinese, on the "Blue Dragon" template, please. I tried to keep a straight face and wondered how my life would be different had my parents named my "Trogdor Leigh Whittemore," rather than Nathaniel.

This is the great side of tourism; the vacation part; the part where the biggest decision is whether to say your name is "Trogdor" or "Mayor McCheese." (The former won just because I decided McCheese wouldn't fit on the page.)

Rome is a huge city. Unlike Forence (where we are now) or Cinque Terre (where we were before Rome) which are extremely pedestrian friendly and extremely tourism based, Rome has distinct parts that are for travelers, and other parts that aren't as great. Basically, its a huge city.

The Piazza was wonderful. It had all the vacationistic things you could want: street hustlers, fake Dior Sunglasses, bad (and even a little good) street art, etc. We spent a few hours there, eating Gilatto and watching ugly dudes get their characatures drawn. As darkness fell, we decided it was time to make our way over to the Trevi Fountain, which we heard was really nice all lit up. Real good vacation tourism stuff. As it would happen, we were in for some shitty bad tourism stuff, as well.

There are lots of schemes to get your money on the streets. One of the more successful ploys goes something like this. A friendly looking guy with a handful of roses and a big smile plastered on his face comes up to a couple and hands the girl a flower saying "take it, take it, its for you." The girl says "No, no, no" but the florist persists and eventually she takes it. As soon as it is in her hand, the vender turns to the guy in the equation and asks (really, demands) money.

We knew it was coming before it happened, so when the young guy came up to us at the Trevi, Christina stuck her hands in our pockets and said "No" more firmly than most. Undettered, he shoved the flowers into her, at which point, I lost my cool (Rome is big, remember? I was stressed and a little tired), pushed his hand out of the way, and told him to Piss Off. In response, he COMPLETELY lost his shit, hit me open handed, and tried to hit my face with the roses. Not one to back down in a "lose your shit" contest, I told him to get the fuck away, or he'd be in trouble.

It was a stupid encounter. Stupid because an avoidable situation had blown up, maybe dangerously. A minute later he came up, looking for a fight. When I told him that I wasn't going to fight him, he told me he'd "see me later {because he} would remember my shirt." At that point, the cost-benefit calculator in my head tipped decidedly towards swallowing pride and away from getting shot.

It took about ten minutes of talking and apologizing and vigorous slightly angry handshaking which eventually calmed to normalgrip chilled out situation over handshaking, but it turned out fine.

It turned out that he didn't really like this job. He had come to Italy just a few years ago, wasn't much older than me, and sure didn't like having someone make him look like an even bigger asshole by smashing his arm to the side in a crowd of people and yelling for him to hit the road. I understood - pride sucks, and wounded pride is the worst.

After all my talking about fighting and kicking ass, I ended up apologizing. Live to fight another day though, I guess.

Anyway, Rome was pretty good, but nothing like Florence, where I'm typing now. More soon...

Love and Roses smashed into your face.

Hey all. Cinque Terre is amazing, minus the mad expensive internet cafes. Love Nathaniel

Hey all
We're back in Santiago now, but will be on trains for approx. 34 of the next 48 hours. To Italy we go! Enjoy the pics.

Hill above Castrojeriz

House in Galicia

The view from O Ceberio

Photographer at Dusk

Looking up at the Cathedral

Sign Shining

Palencia on Fire

As the three-times-too-full bus bound for the Concierto del Millenio chugged out of the Plaza de Galiza, the air was filled with the smell of Hash and the sound of excited slightly-drunk Spanish teenagers sluring their way through loud renditions of Iggy Pop songs. The elegant pristine of the Camino was shattered.

Last night was the first night of a three day concert festival set up by the Xunta de Galicia (regional government) to celebrate the upcoming Festival Day of St. James. Lilith, The Darkness, Iggy Pop, Massive Attack, and the Chemical Brothers. It was huge, and Spain showed up, big time. The paper this morning called it a "reinvention of rock!" and featured a giant picture of Iggy screaming as Iggy does.

For Christina and I, it was all about the Darkness. It was long overdue; I had hearbreakingly missed them by a day at the end of Christmas vacation. Lots and lots of hours went into imagining what they would be like. Could they live up to my expectations?

Seeing the Darkness for the first time is like losing 13 year old virginity to a middle aged prostitute with all your friends watching.

For an hour, the quitent shredded, duck-walked, absured-english-accented, swore, and secuded me into falling in love with them all over again. It was better than I could have imagined. Do whatever you can to see them...immediately.

Here is a tour schedule:
Sunday 18 July:
Feria de July, Jardines de Viveros, Valencia, Spain

Tuesday 20 July:
ChicoBum Festival, Parco Chico Mendes Borgaro, Turin, Italy

Wednesday 21 July:
Cornetto FreeMusicFestival, Roma Live, Centrale Del Tennis, Rome, Italy

Friday 23 July:
Paleo Festival, Nyon, Switzerland

Friday 30 July:
Storsjöyran, Östersund, Sweden

Sunday 1 August:
Ankka Rock, Helsinki, Finland

Anyway, I´m in Negreira tonight recovering. Two more days to the Coast. Peace for now.

I had to take my shoes off about 1.5 km before we actually got to the Cathedral in Santiago. Of all the points on this trip where I thought every bone in my feet had broken, I´m pretty sure this one was the worst; in fact, I´d even guess that my feet hurt more at that point than any other single moment in my life.

Thankfully, I could already see the tops of the giant building, and I knew that after 30 days of getting up at 5:15 and walking from one town to the next, we had arrived at our destination. We were no longer on the Camino de Santiago, we were actually there.

Before leaving for Spain, I had more than one person warn me that every experience I had would be different from the way I previously imagined it. While they were right, there was no point along the way that struck me as unexpectedly as our arrival in Santiago.

I´m not sure why, but i don´t feel finished.

All along the way, in guest books, and spray-painted on walls, I saw that people had written excerpts from a poem that starts, ¨Caminante no hay camino.¨ It was basically about the idea that someone who is walking isn´t following a path, but creating it as he goes. It makes sense in the way somewhat abstract or romantic verses make sense, but I guess now that I´m here, and I don´t know whether or not I feel done, I actually think I get it. Despite the fact that each person has followed a marked path here, it doesn´t seem like everyone is finding the same ending.

Well, even though it doesn´t seem like an end, at least not yet, I can definetly say that Santiago has been awesome. The Cathedral is amazing from the inside and out, especially when it is overflowing with people during mass. The shops are all cute, and constantly running in to pilgrims that we met along the way has been one of the best parts of the journey.

Well, that´s pretty much it for now. Tomorrow night we will see the Darkness and friday I´m off to Portugal!

One last thought- to understand one major cultural difference between Spain and the US, you just need to look at coffee.

You can´t get coffee ¨to go¨ here.

Santiago dances in shapes and colors.

It is not monumental buildings, but ancient giants that move too slowly for us to notice. It is not wide-eyed travelers with blisters and knee braces, but a millenium and more of completion etched into the sweaty forehead lines of every pilgrim. As the backpack-clad tromp down the great stone steps toward the door where they will enter the Cathedral, as millions have before them, they share the same look. It is confused and resolute at the same time, as if know that "this is it" and wondering if, "this is it?"

The city glows in twighlight golden.

As the curtain falls on another day, the Gallego Celtic band sets fire to the Plaza do Toural. Lutes, wind, sunset, harps, bagpipes, drums, hair flung in dancing, muscles moving without command, long shadow light that fades to night. Its fairy tale music.

Santiago burns in a world of Forms. It is not a city in a moment, but an endless stream of people irrevocably connected throughout the ebb and flow of centuries.

I don´t know what it all means yet.

C and I will split up for the first time on Friday. She´s going to Lisbon; I´m walking to Finesterre, "the end of the world" to medieval Europe. We´ll be back in Santiago on the 19th. Talk to you then