Toni was the perfect travelling companion. Often when we traveled with Americans, they would complain their room was too small, or towels were missing, or reservations lost. Toni was just delighted to be seeing new places, learning new things, eating new food. I loved her zest for travel. We shared a fantasy about living in exotic places, especially in medieval Centro Historicos with ancient stone houses fronting on narrow streets, windows with flower boxes. How was it possible for people to live amidst such beauty? At home in Buffalo, we watched House Hunters International. When they featured Spain or Italy, we’d wonder, could we trade our house straight up for one of those?
So Toni would have been out of her mind to have seen Se Vende signs in these Spanish Basque towns west of Pamplona: Uterga, Muruzabel, Obanos and Puente la Reina. Right now we’d have been trying to figure out how to make it happen.
My Camino with Toni 
I can picture Toni and you traveling. She would get so animated and excited when showing pictures of your many trips; and you were very fortunate to have explored so many wonderful places together.
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With you still. Keep on…
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When I bemoaned the amount of luggage I took to China, Toni told me she carried all that she needed in one leather shoulder bag – about the size of a small backpack. She had all of her stuff in it in NYC during a conference, yet still managed to be the most elegantly dressed person there.
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Well then clearly Toni was a woman after my own heart ( or what ever that expression is) . We look forward to your blog, so keep your observations coming!
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When I first tried to read the blogs, I discovered it was too personally difficult for me to complete reading an entry. Later, I approached them obliquely because it was Such a hard thing for me. Now I’m almost caught up on reading them, & while it’s still hard, at the same time it is such a balm to my heart! I’m so glad for this blog & blog-link.
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When I first tried to read the blogs, I discovered that emotion made it too hard for me to complete reading an entry. Later, I approached them obliquely because it was such a hard thing for me. I’m almost caught up on reading them. Now, while it’s still hard, at the same time it is such a balm to my heart! I’m so glad for the blog-link & the blogs. Thanx for taking us along & keeping us posted along ‘the way.’
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My hustand and I find ourselves doing the same thing. I can really imagine her soaking in all the beauty if new things and apprecoating every second of it all.
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Borges has a beautiful poem, Chris. Your entry reminded me of a line in it, which said:
“(This room is unreal; she has not seen it.)”
I will share with you the poem later.
Thinking of Toni watching you as you walk towards her.
Miss you!
Serife
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Here is the poem:
“It is love. I will have to run or hide.
The walls of its prison rise up, as in a twisted dream. The beautiful mask has changed, but as always it is the one. Of what use are my talismans: the literary exercises, the vague erudition, the knowledge of words used by the harsh North to sing its seas and swords, the temperate friendship, the galleries of the Library, the common things, the habits, the young love of my mother, the militant shadow of my dead, the timeless night, the taste of dreams?
Being with you or being without you is the measure of my time.
Now the pitcher breaks about the spring, now the man arises to the sound of birds, now those that watch at the windows have gone dark, but the darkness has brought no peace.
It, I know, is love: the anxiety and the relief at hearing your voice, the expectation and the memory, the horror of living in succession.
It is love with its mythologies, with its tiny useless magics.
There exists a corner that I dare not cross.
Now the armies confine me, the hordes.
(This room is unreal; she has not seen it.)
The name of a woman gives me away.
A woman hurts me in all of my body.”
― Jorge Luis Borges
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