Crosswalks in Spain

There has been stuff happening, but most of it is nothing I want to put out into the world in writing. Let’s just say too many people in my life are sick right now, both back home and here.

The weather here is slowly changing; it is less excruciatingly hot. This is not necessarily good, as one of the primary reasons people stop in Pieros is because they are too hot and tired to make it to anywhere else. We had eight pilgrims at dinner two days ago, but no one for two days before that and no one yesterday or today.

Mar says the end of August is always slow but it picks up. It hasn’t yet. But I have a backup plan if it doesn’t and my presence is no longer needed. I will leave some things here and travel to Porto to walk the Camino Portuguese. Then I will come back and get them and head home, maybe in enough time to attend my 40 year reunion. We’ll see.

Anyway, crosswalks. They look like this.

You can see the Spanish are far less reticent about parking near the corner than Americans are.

Anyway, I have not gotten used to the fact that Spanish drivers a) watch for pedestrians and b) actually stop for them. So I’m always standing on the corner, waiting to see if the car will stop. The drivers get frustrated because if I had just gone ahead and crossed they wouldn’t have had to stop or only briefly because I would be across already.

So I have perfected a kind of “I’m not crossing the street; I’m just standing here” stance which I maintain until the car is safely past. If there is more than one I go down the street a little like, “I don’t want to cross; I’m just walking” and when they are all gone I go back to the crosswalk.

Because here is the thing. Few people jaywalk here. If I had to guess, I would guess the law is “If you hit the pedestrian in the crosswalk it’s your fault. If they weren’t in the crosswalk, then…🤷‍♀️.” But I don’t know that; it’s just a feeling.

So I don’t really know what else to write. Like I said, the things that are happening are either private (mine or someone else’s) or part of an internal journey I’m not ready to reveal.

Okay, one more thing. What IS it about teenage boys and cologne? Mar’s son just passed me about ten feet away, and I still smelled him.