An Army and a Saint

Today has been one of those days that felt several days long.

Arrived in Santander early and while waiting to disembark, watched this army of cleaners arrive to clean up our mess. Felt so grateful for their unsung work.

Decided to veer off our route a bit, and visit Ávila, birthplace of St Teresa, whose writings I studied in Uni, and for whom I have great admiration. The story is told that once in her travels to visit all the convents she founded, her saddle slipped as her donkey was crossing a stream and she found herself face down underneath its belly. Complaining to the Lord of her treatment, she heard him reply, “Teresa, whom the Lord loves, he chastises. This is how I treat all my friends.” Her feisty reply: "No wonder you have so few!" My extra is of her hands holding her quill and notebook.

(Rather more gory was her dessicated finger, still wearing its ring, in a case - supposedly kept by Franco at his bedside throughout his regime. You can't help wondering who and when and why it was removed from her body. Next to it, were two bits of bone from St John of the Cross.)

Ended the day in a place high in the forest in the Sierra de Gredos mountain range. 

Gratefuls:
- a safe and fairly smooth crossing and safe driving, and Mike being willing to veer off our route to see somewhere new
- coffee and pan con tomate in Reinosa
- managing to raise the key holder of this place: Fogon de Gredos in Guisando