
Anyway, we spent a long time in the desert, and finally, the oasis of Zaragosa appeared, and the towering silhouette of Our Lady of the Pillar. Barbara started absolutely squirming with excitement. We arranged to meet the driver in two or three hours (he went to get directions to the Xavier castle in Navarre), and headed across the cobblestones of the plaza towards Our Lady's shrine with its remarkable multi-colored tile roof. As we went, Karen unclipped her camera bag and reached for the exquisite camera which...fell to the ground with a heavy thump. Ugh. Hoping for a miracle, Karen gave the shutter a try, but (this being a digital camera) all she got was an error message. There was nothing we could do--and we hadn't even reached the Basque region (Pais Vasco) yet! Well, our Lady was right there, so we traipsed over the stones of the plaza. That's where I basically lost Barbara and Karen for over an hour, to the point where I became very nervous. Turns out they were in the gift shop. (If you can't shoot, shop!) Well, I had taken a ton of pictures, hoping for the best, since the church was so large. I aimed my

When Karen and Barbara reappeared with their shopping bags, we headed to a small restaurant for lunch. The place we chose had outdoor seating and was evidently located above or very near some ancient Roman ruins. Our cheerful (and somewhat insolent) waiter made recommendations that we were happy to accept; Karen stuck by her decision to have paella everywhere. And we had a bit of an encounter with a gypsy girl (and baby) who took advantage of our exposed position. I have to admit having a very hard time being able to name anything particularly positive about the gypsy culture. It seems so abusive toward women, and yet you see young, young mothers with babies (and sometimes older kids) on their lap begging, and you know there is not much of a chance that it will even occur to their girl children, once they are older, that they don't have to live that way. I really think that persons who are especially active in matters related to women's rights have a really worthwhile mission to fulfill on behalf of the female half of the gypsy population--to set up micro-credits, education, child-care that will allow women to really be liberated from the slavery that is all they know. (Any volunteers?)
Back to the cobblestones, our driver soon appeared, with clear (he thought) directions to Javier, only he was insisting that Javier was not Basque, and Karen and I knew very well that St. Francis Xavier was as Basque as St. Ignatius, even if they were from provinces that took different sides in the battle at Pamplona. Turns out we were both right. The driver probably meant that Javier (the castle, not the man) was in the Province of Navarre, not in the Pais Vasco.
Interestingly, to get to Navarre, we crossed not Aragonese wheat fields, but rice paddies!
Note: I have attempted three times to put pictures into this post, and it is getting too late for me to try again, what with multi-tasking other things as well. So come back Monday to (God willing) see what I am talking about! And maybe I will even get to Javier by Monday night!
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