Directly inside rested a coffin. It’s contents were explained by the churchman but the answer remained lost between languages. It was old, that’s all I know. The Spanish couple and I were then gestured up a steep slanted staircase many wise people would deem rickety and unsafe. Nonetheless, the Spanish couple led the way up two narrow stories to the top of the tower. Upstairs, three open arches exposed the stone walls to the elements, a bell hung from the middle. Off to the right a window faced the coast where fog had cleared, exposing grey choppy waves to complement the rugged and rural coastal view.
The Spanish couple asked for a picture of the three of us by the bell, but before the churchman took our picture he reached his hand through a small crevice of the aged stacked stone wall and pulled something out. I couldn’t see it clearly, it was small, wrapped in his palm, but thought it might be some sort of ancient stone. He spoke in Spanish explaining the significance of what he held, but once again his explanation was lost on me.
As we posed for the picture, the churchman asked me to lay out my hand to place the unknown object in my hand. As he handed it to me, I could see it was not some old stone ruin but more of an ancient corpse, and he laid the crusted remains of a palm-sized lizard in my hand.
Once again, the significance of this bizzare mummified reptile was lost on me, but the excitement from the three Spaniards was enough for the four of us to laugh and smile.
Back on solid earth we said our goodbyes. Apparently I served as a tourist attraction just as interesting as the church as they shot photos of me posing with my pilgrim credential and it’s many stamps, as well as my sockless sandalled feet which are constantly exposed to the elements.
As they got back in their car they were kind enough to offer this cold pilgrim a ride to the next stage, but I just smiled, shook my head, and kept on walking.