Love at Spain's Iron Cross

3 - Ronda

3

Ronda

Sunday, May 9

Jordan had walked over 70 miles in six days from La Linea de la Concepcion, its name reflecting the line between Spain and Gibraltar. He followed the Via Serrana, one of the newest trails for pilgrims, through a variety of towns. So far, the weather had been mild and dry. He meandered past ranches full of unimpressed sheep, farms whose crops likewise remained oblivious to his presence, and the occasional curious child who accompanied him for a short while.

He thought about the last young girl who tried to keep up. She was a cute, dark-haired youngster, with short legs and a huge smile.

She was like the sunshine that comes with a family. Oriana, I so wish we could have created ours together.

Jordan frowned, then nodded in understanding.

Okay, the first decision about my novel. It won't be set in the present, nor have characters like the two of us, as in my last novel. I can't write about something that would recreate the pain and longing to have her back with me all the time. He rubbed his forehead as if to ease the creases forming there as he thought. So the protagonists will be different from us, and the setting will be a long time ago. I need to learn more history of this region to help me decide on the era.

Jordan had seen only a few others hiking this trail, but wondered about a couple in Arab dress that he had seen but not had a chance to talk with. Unusual in Spain, but of course, this southern region was once controlled by Muslims. Had they, like Jordan, stayed in private homes as well as albergues, the hostels so numerous on other Caminos but not yet on this new spur? The route continued ahead for another 85 miles to Sevilla, where Jordan would connect with the next trail north. He planned to complete all 55 days of trekking before July.

He finished the day's twelve miles early, arriving in Ronda at about 11 a.m. He stopped at an open-air market to pick up some snacks for the next morning, since nothing opened till nine, long after he began walking each day. The aroma of various fruits and vegetables beckoned. A vendor saw him, and in Spanish implored others to let him move to the front and buy first. In Spanish, she said, "He carries his house on his back!"

Jordan then found an outdoor cafe and sat down. They had umbrellas over the tables, but he still perspired freely after all that walking. He ordered some appetizers, water, and "the coldest beer in the world." It's early, but I've earned it. The waiter smiled and asked if he wanted the menu del dia, with a main course and dessert as well, a common choice among pilgrims. Jordan said no, that he was more thirsty than hungry now, but would come back that evening for the full meal. The waiter nodded and returned quickly with his requests.

The beer's taste was less important. Its refreshing carbonation and cool temperature revived him. It didn't last long. He caught his server's attention and used his favorite Spanish line: "In the interest of science, I must see if the second beer is as good as or better than the first!" The waiter laughed and took his mug for a refill.

I used that same line over a hundred times the last time I walked in Spain, for coffee, beer, and wine. He smiled, accepted the beer, sipped slowly, and began to read some history. I still don't have even a beginning for my novel figured out. Maybe what I learn about the past here will give me some ideas for my novel.

Just then, the Arab-looking couple he had seen not only came trekking up the street, but they stopped at the same outdoor cafe and dropped their packs next to him. Jordan smiled and asked in Spanish, "Are you walking the Camino?"