Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved good food. Lots and lots of good food. She found a man who loved good food, so the two of them married and they proceeded to search the world over for a place teeming with vast quantities of good food, at all times of the day and night (which also required them to exercise ad nauseum in order to keep the food from incapacitating them). There is a name for that place where all their dreams came true. It's called a cruise. Yes, it is spectacular to "set a course for adventure," to experience new and exotic ports of call, but let's face it, for us, many of the conversations each day on board were what not what we were seeing but what we were eating. Comforting ourselves with pronouncements such as, "Tonight I shall eat no bread," or, "Only one dessert for me this time," we prided ourselves on our eating expeditions, chalking it all up to sampling exotic foods, and reminding ourselves that certainly we could not allow what amounted to pre-paid food to go to waste. Fun ride while it lasted.
Fast-forward twenty-five years. Seemingly out of the blue, I began to have gut issues, as in curl up in the fetal position unable and uninterested in eating anything for days. When able to get around, my stomach was beyond sore, my chest produced sharp pains, and I felt as if there was something stuck in my throat. Every, single, stinkin' day. Another five doctors and three years later I had a diagnosis, but not a cure. No prescribed method of treatment. Not even a hint of what might help me manage my wide ranging symptoms. I only knew this much: food was now my enemy. Almost everything I ingested set me back, caused me pain, made me regret eating. Anything. Ever. To save us the gory details, after another year of praying, waiting, searching the Net, and being providentially led to a dr who TRULY knows nutrition, I began a new way of life. A new way of looking at food. I now eat foods that help me heal, that first do no harm; no more eating willy-nilly for me. Funny how pain can change a person's perspective!
So what will eating on the Camino be like for me? Except for a little white rice and a little sweet or white potato, all grains are out (so sauces and anything else using flour is out). I can do a tiny bit of fruit. More importantly though, meats, seafood, and most veggies are in. Foods on the Camino are of course a big topic of conversation on the Net, and universally pilgrims agree on the following staples: the Spanish torilla (egg, potato, onion, cheese most often); chorizo (spicy sausage) and other meats; fruits, nuts, and a few veggies (mostly salads in restaurants). The "pilgrim meal" is supposedly a moderately priced three course meal consisting of pasta or salad, meat/side, and fruit or other dessert. The good news for me? Most towns where we'll be staying will have some sort of grocery store. Even better news for me? My husband will almost certainly trade out with me, especially if it means he gets an extra dessert or fruit serving, or if he must really sacrifice and eat a fresh pastry so I can have his stinky cheese (that's been aged in a sun baked pack for a few hours). I really don't care. Food keeps me alive, and now it does not keep me from going. Or hiking.
For a long year after beginning my healing with foods, I had quite a bit of conflict on this new way of life, for it is not the norm to avoid all processed, additive-laden, easily available food. It darn sure wasn't easy. It was even a little sad for a while. Dinner invites don't exactly pile up when a person's diet seems complicated, even though it's quite simple. Give me a hunk of meat and throw in a carrot or cuke or leafy green. You get the point. At the end of that first year (let me repeat the word long), I distinctly remember getting up early one morning to do a little devotion and being clearly led to a verse that said, "Do not labor for food that perishes, but for food that endures to eternal life." That verse was transformational to me. It was clarity in print. It was serenity for the future. That verse was, and is, food to live by. No matter what happens on this earth, I am confident in my future, the beautifully loooong future. No matter the difficulties, my future is a buen Camino.
Fast-forward twenty-five years. Seemingly out of the blue, I began to have gut issues, as in curl up in the fetal position unable and uninterested in eating anything for days. When able to get around, my stomach was beyond sore, my chest produced sharp pains, and I felt as if there was something stuck in my throat. Every, single, stinkin' day. Another five doctors and three years later I had a diagnosis, but not a cure. No prescribed method of treatment. Not even a hint of what might help me manage my wide ranging symptoms. I only knew this much: food was now my enemy. Almost everything I ingested set me back, caused me pain, made me regret eating. Anything. Ever. To save us the gory details, after another year of praying, waiting, searching the Net, and being providentially led to a dr who TRULY knows nutrition, I began a new way of life. A new way of looking at food. I now eat foods that help me heal, that first do no harm; no more eating willy-nilly for me. Funny how pain can change a person's perspective!
So what will eating on the Camino be like for me? Except for a little white rice and a little sweet or white potato, all grains are out (so sauces and anything else using flour is out). I can do a tiny bit of fruit. More importantly though, meats, seafood, and most veggies are in. Foods on the Camino are of course a big topic of conversation on the Net, and universally pilgrims agree on the following staples: the Spanish torilla (egg, potato, onion, cheese most often); chorizo (spicy sausage) and other meats; fruits, nuts, and a few veggies (mostly salads in restaurants). The "pilgrim meal" is supposedly a moderately priced three course meal consisting of pasta or salad, meat/side, and fruit or other dessert. The good news for me? Most towns where we'll be staying will have some sort of grocery store. Even better news for me? My husband will almost certainly trade out with me, especially if it means he gets an extra dessert or fruit serving, or if he must really sacrifice and eat a fresh pastry so I can have his stinky cheese (that's been aged in a sun baked pack for a few hours). I really don't care. Food keeps me alive, and now it does not keep me from going. Or hiking.
For a long year after beginning my healing with foods, I had quite a bit of conflict on this new way of life, for it is not the norm to avoid all processed, additive-laden, easily available food. It darn sure wasn't easy. It was even a little sad for a while. Dinner invites don't exactly pile up when a person's diet seems complicated, even though it's quite simple. Give me a hunk of meat and throw in a carrot or cuke or leafy green. You get the point. At the end of that first year (let me repeat the word long), I distinctly remember getting up early one morning to do a little devotion and being clearly led to a verse that said, "Do not labor for food that perishes, but for food that endures to eternal life." That verse was transformational to me. It was clarity in print. It was serenity for the future. That verse was, and is, food to live by. No matter what happens on this earth, I am confident in my future, the beautifully loooong future. No matter the difficulties, my future is a buen Camino.