Tuesday Dec 12. Leuca. 26.1 km.

The end of the road! The Via Francigena del Sud can go no further. Santa Maria de Leuca is at the very southernmost tip of the heel of the boot shape that is Italy. The Via arrives at a lighthouse that is watched over itself by the Santuario di Santa Maria de Finibus Terrae. A small town centred on the sea lies below.

Just like last fall and my walk from Lausanne to Rome, it is an odd feeling to arrive. Wise people say we need a project, or a goal, as we move through life. A pilgrimage is widely spoken of as a mirror of our way through life. And as a pilgrim walking the path, it certainly helps to have a final destination as a goal. Reaching this goal, however, to me seems slightly anticlimactic. No blast of glory, no mystical levitation!

What the path has taught me, over and over again, is the immense beauty and glory of the present moment. The blessings of sun and wind (and even rain), the wonder of the strength of our body, the communion of humanity as we each proceed with our daily tasks. The slow rhythm and daily discipline of the walk have left me feeling cleansed and at peace.

I’m wondering if this is the best place to end the blog. Probably it is, but I’m also tempted to continue with it a bit more, as I like the feeling of chatting with friends and family on a somewhat daily basis. I thank those of you who have been reading, and please no one feel any obligation to continue reading as I wander on!

The last picnic on the Via.

A typical upscale modern house in this area

And here I am, Leuca with its towering light house

An evening walk along a slightly rickety path.

The Roman column marking the end of the road.

Climbing up to the lighthouse.

The convent and church by the lighthouse.

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Sat Oct 4. London.

19 days walking on pilgrimage paths for a total of 395 km or 245 miles on foot (not that arduous - an average of 20.7 km per day, and lots of ‘rest days’ staying put in one place). All of that undone in 1.5 hours on a Eurostar train. I’m not entirely sure what conclusion I’m drawing from that comparison, but I’m back where I started, in London. On my way to my lodgings (I’m staying in a Buddhist retreat centre) I decided to visit the first visitable place to cross my path, which turned out to be the Foundling Museum. Horrified by the sight of infants being abandoned on 18th c London streets, a prosperous seaman, Thomas Coram, spent 17 years raising awareness and funds, as well as obtaining royal permission to build London’s first children’s charity. Opened in 1739, the Foundling Hospital continued its work until the 1950s, and actually is still active as a non-institutional resource, under a different name. Here is a photo of it in 1935. So many similarities to ...

Fri Oct 3. Lille.

I had a lovely day in Lille. In fact, all my days on this trip have been lovely! In the morning I went to the very large Palais des Beaux-Arts. This museum holds the largest collection of works of art of any French institution outside Paris. The collection started at the time of the French Revolution as the works of art of the nobility and of the church were confiscated, and continued on apace due to various enthusiastic municipal governments. By 1892 the collection was so large and important that the Palais, its current house, was constructed in the centre of town. The first fun aspect was the recent work of the Swiss artist Felice Varini who used the museum’s interior as his canvas. The oldest works of art are in the ‘basement’, beautifully displayed. Look at the marvellous three dimensionality of this (flat) marble plaque sculpted by Donatello (c 1435) showing Salomé dancing for the head of John the Baptist. And modern technology brings statues alive by giving them back t...

September 5

I landed at Heathrow this morning at 6 am, a very inconvenient time to get a room and rest! But my student residence accommodation includes a common room with handy couches for a short snooze. The neighbourhood abuts on Regent’s Park, complete with gorgeous flowerbeds. The Queen Mary’s rose garden in Regent’s Park. My neighbourhood wandering took me to the Wallace House which used to be one of the homes of the marquesses of Hertford. The Hertfords were fabulously rich, mainly from extensive land holdings, and in the 18th and 19th centuries avid art collectors. They obviously had Trumpian home decorating tastes. Here are two of their many clocks, all of which need frequent ‘fine tuning’, it appears. I particularly liked two 18th c British paintings by Sir Joshua Reynolds in their collection: Mrs Carnac and the hauntingly strange Strawberry Girl.

Celia Walks

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