It’s a Fiasco

I’m back home in Texas, where it is hot, dry, and dull. Wandering loose in Europe is never boring.

According to Giuseppe, the origin of the word fiasco is this: patrons at a plays or performances drank wine. If they were dissatisfied with the performance, they would throw their empty wine bottles at the cast. And these type of wine bottles were called fiascoes.

Daisy and I went to Cross Mountain this morning. It was windy and not yet hot. Daisy is intrigued by the smells on walks and complains loudly if I don’t take her. I came back with a bit of a sore throat. It’s going away, perhaps caused by the dusty wind, but many of my friends have had Covid in the last few weeks. I am very, very thankful that I didn’t get Covid on the trail, that would really mess up the plan.

I’ve been back home for a week, and it’s hard adjusting. My sleep cycle adjusted very quickly. But there is also kind of a culture shock. After six weeks of calmness, I’m thrust back into the chaos that is American life. It started at the Atlanta airport and has not let up. I went to the enchanted rock for some relief, and was overwhelmed by the heat and dryness.

My friend Tyler from previous trails says the solution is to plan your next walk before you finish the one you’re on. So here it is: I’m walking the West Highland Way in Scotland with my sister Adele in September. This may be double-dipping, coming after a six-week trip, but my motto these days is DO IT NOW!

As luck would have it (if luck had anything at all to do with it), last week I read a newsletter from the Confraternity of Saint James in London, in which they mentioned this pilgrimage. It comes directly before our plan in Scotland. To me that was a sign, so I signed up. It’s four days of guided walks.

I’m also planning a few days in Vienna, visiting friends from the trail in Italy.

Then I’ll spend a few days with Josette, before we come back to Texas for adventure, phase 2.

I have been privileged to walk trails with a fabulous group of people.