And a child shall lead us

Yesterday, I watched live Facebook streaming of the Charlottesville student walkout from a parking lot in Fátima, Portugal, the town where, in 1917, three teenagers reported that they had seen a vision of the Virgin Mary. Today, thousands of pilgrims pour into Fátima every year because they believed those young people. I can only hope that the young people today who see a vision of a nation where they can be free to go to school without the fear of gun violence will be heard, too.  That is my fervent prayer.

I am writing this from a tiny campground high in the mountains of rural northern Portugal. It is really tiny. I mean, we are the only campers, and the man at the desk went home last night and left us here behind the locked gate. 

To get here, we drove up a steep, switch-backing, narrow drive that certainly didn’t look like it was leading to anything. But at the top we were greeted by the very nice manager and his enormous German shepherd, who stayed here alone last night to watch over us. We call the dog Jumbo, and he is very sweet to Jacob.

We have been “wild” camping (parking in random parking lots without water, electricity, laundry facilities, etc.) for several days, and it is good to plug the computer in and see her hum, ready for these words. We came north to escape the rain and incessant winds of the coast, but here we have rain, incessant winds and cold!  We have begun our trip inland, toward southern France, for the next springtime of our trip. We are lured onward by the prospect of sunshine in Avignon.

I want to tell you about the places we’ve seen the last few days, but I need pictures to help tell the story, and the weak Internet here won’t allow me to upload pictures, so the travelogue will have to wait for another day. For now, a list will suffice:  Albufeira, Lagos, Silves, Caldas de Monchique, Torquines de Cima, Cansino, Lisbon, Sintra, Cascais, Cabo da Roca, Fatima, Lamego. 

Until next time…