Chicago to Madrid

Eight hours plane flight ahead. I found a good hostel to stay at for two nights in Granada but it was pricier than I liked. I read Anne Carson on the flight from Seattle to Chicago because I left my earbuds in my check in bag (I’m carrying a small drawstring pack on the plane). Last year I lost my earbuds at the airplane and had to walk the Camino without the aid of my own personal soundtrack, so thanks again, St. James, for the small miracle in the airport.

Between Carson’s powerful clean prose and the neurotic self awareness of the man who was sitting to my left on the plane (touch between men remains a strange issue on planes), I can’t help but wonder, as I move through this airport, how the space I am moving in is a product of architectural engineering; a feat impossible without our modern notion of space. Everything is so compartmentalized, clean black rows of chairs splayed neatly before boarding gates. How efficient does one have to move before his movement becomes sterilized? Surely there is no grace and providence at work in the gait of a window shopper at the mall, but what about the passenger shuttling himself between terminals? I am not optimistic, the airport feels too neat for serendipity (I say this as my own thoughtlessness deprived me of my earphones!)

I’ve also taken some time to look into Allison Raju’s guidebook, which will be the guidebook I will be following for the Camino Mozarabe. First impressions are: housing looks exceptionally bleak. The first stay out of Granada is at a center for disabled youth; Allison also stresses that anyone without a “reasonable command of Spanish” will find this route exceptionally difficult. Dios, ayudarme! (not to mention her guide comprises solely of directive sentences: turn L at the….then 200 km later turn L….) Jeez.

Anyway, touchdown, Granada!

edit: turns out I packed the wrong moleskin, so I’ll be picking up another pilgrims journal in Granada….