providence

My first night in Italy I went to sleep out in the open under the stars and a clear sky. I woke up out in the open in the rain. For the most part after that I slept inside under roofs, but never the same one twice.
In Vernazza, which is a coastal village in Italy not all that far from Genoa where I flew in to, I met Geoff, who is Australian, from Queensland, and he is a pentacostal. Our stories connected in such a way that we moved rapidly from acquaintanceship to brotherhood; he enriched my faith.
In Barcelona, which is on the eastern coast of Spain and a lot bigger than Vernazza, I met Chris from Berlin, and we didn't delve into many matters of faith, but he certainly brightened my day.
When I got to Pomplona at 5am one morning it was very cold and I was very alone. At about 5.17am I met Iago, who also had a backpack and also planned to walk across Spain, but he was planning to walk across more of it than I was. Iago smoked pot twice during the seven hours we were together and he said a few cuss words in English, maybe some in Spanish too, I don't know, even still I think he was an angel because I'm convinced that, without his help, I'd still be wandering around Pomplona aimlessly with a sad, confused look on my face. He helped me find a train that would take me to Leon in the middle part of northern Spain, that's where I started walking.
My first day on el Camino do Santiago (the Way of Saint James) I met Laura from Iowa, except sort of from Madrid, because she has lived and taught english there for four years. She is Jewish and is passionately afraid of snakes, but even more passionately in love with languages. Next year she is moving to Beijing because she wants to learn to speak Chinese. Laura and I shared lots of meals and lots and lots of conversations, she also enriched my faith.
I walked for a day with a German woman named Dorothy, except the German version of Dorothy which probably has dots over the 'o' and ends with an 'a'.
I walked a bit with Rainer from Austria too, he's the first person I've ever walked with, except my Grampy Mitchell, who was difficult for me to keep up with. The garlic soup at the restaurant we ate at was well worth the effort.
Gregoire, who also walks fast and far and at all hours of the night, is a culinary artist and he is who I'd stay with if I ever visited Germany.
Faith and Leslie from Ohio, who were visiting Santiago de Compostela, took it upon themselves to make a mercilessly wet and rainy day into a wonderful one when they invited me to breakfast about an hour before my flight back to London.
A significant number of things like that kept happening all throughout that made it difficult for me to not believe in providence, or at least that there is a God who likes me and has some sort of influence over the ordering of events and encounters.
I had fun learning a couple Italian words and some Spanish phrases, I patted several stray cats, made friends with a few dogs, wanted to bottle up one of the small farming villages I walked through so that I can pull it out and sit in it when ever the world gets too busy and hurried for me, and I walked all the way to the Atlantic, went for a swim.
Aunt Doris made my life more beautiful before and after my adventures by receiving me into her home, feeding me at her table, and beating me at Skip-Bo. If everyone had an Aunt Doris the world would be a better place.
Speaking of beauty, there's a good bit more of that on her way to me now, but I'll write on that later.. one heart stirring experience at a time..