Love at Spain's Iron Cross

24 - University

24

University

Monday, June 7

Jordan slept poorly, intermittently roused by the pain in his leg. Upon awakening, it looked the same, still badly swollen. He had gone to bed early, so although it was only six, he was somewhat rested. He dressed slowly and went downstairs for some ice, took the anti-inflammatory medicine, then elevated and rested his leg.

Around 7:30, he hobbled down to the albergue's restaurant, ate a Spanish tortilla, and drank two coffees with lots of milk and sugar. He was ready to go to class. Though it wasn't far away, he didn't want to be in a hurry for anything, considering his leg. He grabbed his small daypack with just essentials, leaving everything else by his bed, and saw Grace as he started out the door.

"Where are you headed?" he asked her.

"To the same Spanish class that you're taking. I saw it written on your registration info," she said.

"Great! But I don't want to hold you up. I'm walking slowly."

"No problem," she said. Grace smiled his way and Jordan finally noticed her, unusually pretty for Ireland, Spain, or anywhere. Her red hair was almost aflame, it was so bright. She wore it pinned up but it seemed like it was long. Her skin was fair but covered with freckles. She had bright green eyes and wore a long cream-colored dress that was both modest and flattering. She had a shawl on, though it didn't feel that cold.

"You look like you're ready for a cool day."

"Oh, the classroom is air-conditioned. Did you bring a jacket?"

"I have a windbreaker in my pack, just in case. With the color of your hair and eyes, I'll bet you don't get mistaken for being Spanish much."

She laughed with delight. "You're right. In the northwest of Spain, there are some people in Galicia with Celtic roots. But my combination of hair and eyes is unusual even where I'm from."

"I was out of it yesterday. Remind me. You're from Northern Ireland but attended college in Scotland?"

"Yes, I'm from Derry."

"Ah," said Jordan. "I'll bet you're not Protestant, then. You didn't call it Londonderry. Since I have a mother from Nepal, I've some understanding of Britain's colonial past. The mother country benefited the most."

"Yes, that's true," she said. "And almost exactly half of Northern Ireland is Catholic now. I would prefer the whole island to become one nation, but at least it's peaceful. I'm not into violence at all. There have been too many deaths. Because I live in Northern Ireland, I can volunteer at the British Albergue, saving money on housing. But I hope to live long enough to see unification. We'll see. What about you? Are you Protestant?"

"My father was, actually still is. My mother was a Hindu. But growing up in England, we didn't spend much time in any church or temple. They worshiped privately for the most part. I read some, but never participated in religious ceremonies. I suppose I'm more of an agnostic, but I feel spiritual. My religion is what I'm into when I gaze at the stars at night, listen to the breeze in the trees, or feel the stream flowing over my toes. I feel small when I'm in nature."

Grace nodded. "I know what you mean. But my family went to church every Sunday. I like its rituals and splendor. Inside cathedrals, I also feel small."

"In California, where I live now, I spend time outdoors whenever I can. My wife and I used to love to go hiking and camping together."

"So you don't love doing so anymore?"

"Orianna died from cancer three months ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jordan. That must hurt."