Like all paths there are ups and downs and typically multiple ways to get anywhere. And in my case, getting to Santiago de Compestla was going to be a trick. For those not familiar with the Way to Compestla see:  Santiago de Compestla. For those in the know, consider this – for over 1,200 years people have walked there, many over 500 miles using a few different routes well documented by now. Many of these are personal spiritual quests or pilgrimages to cleanse the soul.

But my route would be different I knew for sure. First there was Florence and of course we had to see Julia and travel through out Chianti for a few days – drinking wines, eating our way through the Tuscan region.
Oh and then there was Lucca and Cinque Terra. I can not help but get into a boat when I see one. That meant village hopping in Cinque Terra. And then there was the small matter of a river cruise along the Duoro for which I had yet to explain to my companion J. Oh well, a path has many twists and turns and mine was about to take some soon enough.

And mean while back in Windsor, Rome continued to burn. But that was like a distant dream of an era gone by. We were now in Portugal and the ebb and flow of my origins beckoned to me like a moth drawn to light. Or fire. What could one learn from a glass (or two) of Masleum rum on ice?

And then there was the desire for a cigar which is never popular in my circle – but sometimes, essential. Think Primo (my step Grandfather), he had an insight to some kind of brilliance that we did not understand as children who withdrew from the stench of his cigars.

Anyway, there was no way I was going to move on without recalibrating. And that meant finding a place with a view, a bar with large ice cubes, and a smoke shop within reach.