Just to recap:

• Sister Clare sent me an email in which she said she’d been robbed at gunpoint.
• She said that her assailant took $700 – money she’d just withdrawn from the bank for her rent and heating.
• She said she filed a police report and also reported the incident to the bank.
• I said I would ask a journalist friend from the Toronto Globe & Mail to write a story, and then start up an online donation site to try and raise enough money to cover her stolen funds – but the journalist would need to have a copy of the police report.
• Sister Clare said that if she provided the police report to the journalist and it was published, she could be prosecuted for Obstruction of Justice.
• She claimed she received advice from her lawyer to this effect.
• I suggested then that she just provide the police report to the journalist, but not for publication – just so he can sight it, and verify the facts.
• She said she wasn’t given a police report.
• I queried this.
• She then told me she had left without the report.
• I told her the report was hers by right, legally – and surely it would be simple enough to just to back to the police station and ask for it. Or if she didn’t want to do that, to ask her lawyer to do it on her behalf.
• She said her lawyer informed her it would be an offense to pass it on to a third party.
• She asked to be allowed to post her story on my blog, to garner “support.”
• i told her I would allow her to do that, but only after I had sighted the police report.
• My wife and I then offered to personally send her $700 to cover the stolen money, but first we had to sight the police report.
• Sister Clare said she didn’t want me spending my money on her, and that I should put that $700 towards a nice Christmas present for Jennifer.
• I then asked Sister Clare for the name of the bank outside of which the robbery occurred. I wanted some independent verification of what happened,
• Sister Clare wouldn’t tell me.

That’s where we are so far –

By now I was suspicious. Sister Clare had consistently refused to provide me with the police report, and now she was refusing to tell me the name of her bank.

I could see no legal reason why she would want to withhold that basic information. She couldn’t be jailed for Obstruction of Justice simply by telling me what bank she used.

I wondered whether she wasn’t willing to tell me because she suspected that I wanted to check the veracity of her story – which I did.

By now I wanted independent verification of what happened. I had Sister Clare’s address from Susan Sande, who had been sending her goods as part of the Kit the Nun campaign.

So I looked up her address on Google Maps, and saw there were several churches in the town near where she lived. I figured a nun would have to be known by at least one of the churches, so I began to phone them, one by one.

I spoke to several priests, and was very discreet. I was aware that it was a small community, and I did not want to say anything that would get tongues wagging. I did not in any way wish to impugn Sister Clare’s reputation, or to suggest that she had done anything wrong.

I just wanted to find out if she had been robbed of $700 at gunpoint.

One priest i called told me that I should speak to the Father whom she worshipped with. He said they worshipped “out of the back of a garage.” He gave me the name and phone number of her priest, and so I called him.

He confirmed that Sister Clare worshipped with his group, and that he had spoken to her yesterday, on the day she was allegedly robbed. He said that she hadn’t mentioned anything about it to him at that time, and that she seemed fine. Not shaken up, or upset.

I suggested that maybe the robbery occurred after their call – but he said that if there had been anything like that happen, the news would have “spread like wildfire.” Everyone would know about it. It was a very small community, he said.

I then figured that if anything like this had happened, then the local newspaper editor would know about it. Being a former journalist myself, I know that these local editors know everything that goes on in their town.

So I called Howie Crighton, the editor of the Westport Review-Mirror.

It was a Saturday, the office was unattended, so I left a message, then followed up with an email. Howie subsequently got back to me and confirmed that he hadn’t heard of any such robbery.

This was still insufficient for me. The robbery could have happened, but they just weren’t aware of it yet. For me, the police report was key. And the bank manager. After all, Sister Clare had said that she’d filled out a police report, and that she’d reported the incident to the bank manager.

Sister Clare had finally told me the name of her bank, somewhat truculently, I thought. However it was the weekend in Westport, so I couldn’t speak to the bank manager until Monday.

As well, Westport doesn’t have a police station. I called the district police office, and again left a message.

I then called up my tv journalist friend again, in Montreal. She had a good contact in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I asked if she could ask him if any police report had been filed in the last few days under the name of Sister Simon Clare, or Alison Ferrier.

She said she’d get back to me.

Let’s pick up the emails again…

Sister, 

On November 1st, I received the following email from Sister Clare:

Hi
Just so you don’t worry if I’m not as present for a day or two. I was robbed today coming out of the bank-lost the rent and heat money, $700, no way to reclaim it. So I’m very low and working on snapping out of it. Ha Ha
Scraggy

I was shocked and confused – shocked that she would be robbed. Confused because it seemed a strange way to tell me – almost as an after-thought. If I had been robbed, I would have blurted it out up front, not put it as a secondary thought in the email, and finish with “ha ha.”

So I responded with this email:

Hi sister –
that is shocking.
tell me exactly what happened –
Have you reported it to the police?
Were you hurt?
Bill

This is what she replied:

Bill
Reported to the cops and the bank, but nobody cares-its that sigh of relief “Well if it happened to her it won’t likely happen to me.” I’ve never argued with a gun, so I wasn’t hurt-just expecting a hideous month of people wanting their money that I no longer have. I haven’t felt this low for a very long time. No Christmas this year, if I can even get straightened out  by the end of the year. I had just withdrawn the rent and heat money to drop off on my way home, as I’ve done for 15 years. I park the car a few blocks away so I get some small walking in-and there he was, shabby, desperate. I handed him my bag, as he demanded, he took only the cash, and gave it back. I went straight back to the bank-it was pouring rain, so no witnesses. The manager even said “How do I know you aren’t just saying this?”-but then, everyone knows he’s an asshole. Went to the police station, filed a report, came home, cried for a very long time.

Here was my immediate response:

dear sister –
thank God you weren’t shot.
you must have been shaken up.
is that a particularly dangerous area? Or did he follow you from the bank?
I have a journalist friend works for the Toronto Globe & Mail – let me know the police station, and the officer you gave your report to – with phone number – and I might see if I can get him to do a story on this, and get your money back through public donation. Or at least start an online collection – like that go-fund-me. It’s worth a try…
bill

This is what Sister Clare came back with –

I am so touched that you would think of trying to raise the money for me. I wish the world were that good! I can’t give any details, I was told, on the chance that one day he might be caught and prosecuted. I believe their hope is that this guy will try it again and they will catch him. If there was publicity it would forewarn him. I don’t know what its like where you live, but here, once you file a police report the information is sole property of the Crown. I went through a similar merry go round with the attempted murder charges years ago.

Its not a dangerous area, just an empty one. they say here that once the summer tourists are gone you could shoot a cannonball down the main street and never hurt a soul-its true. There are only 700 in the village, most retirement age , and over half of them are on their way south for the winter. They have condos etc in Florida and Texas-known as “snowbirds” here, as they always leave before the snow and return when it has melted. There are any number of places he could have waited to see someone leave the bank, and follow them. And there are several tiny villages he could try it in. I’m afraid what the police told me is true, “There’s no help for you, ma’am” Ma’am!!!!! Couldn’t even sharpen up enough to call me Sister!

My response:

HI Sister –
what I’m thinking is this – if I can get the reporter to speak to the police, and keep it non-specific, then we could get some publicity and use that to raise money for you online. 

Remember that homeless person who found that stash of money and returned it? Someone started a donation website and the guy got hundreds of thousands of dollars. We could do the same for you – nun with debilitating injuries, looking after a son who is a quadriplegic – no money for rent or heating – virtually destitute – then held up at gunpoint and her life threatened. It’s a great harrowing story. But I would need that reporter to act on this, and he would need to speak to the police.

It could literally be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars to you sister, if we can get it into the mass media. So please reconsider – and I can get onto the journo and he can speak to the cops, and then to you to get a full interview, photos, etc…
Bill

Her response:

Bill

Please don’t think its me being difficult. I checked with my lawyer this morning just to be sure, and I really can’t give you any information involvoing (sic) the police or their report. There is nothing I wouldn’t give to make this different. Already I’m getting threatening emails about money- I put some bids on some inexpensive ebay items for Christmas gifts that I can’t pay for  now, so that goes against my credit rating. I can live with being shut out of ebay, but I used to have  perfect credit.

This morning a bill payment came through my account at the bank and because I can’t cover it, the bank has now charged me a $45 NSF fee that I will be getting several more times as, obviously none of the bill payments on auto withdrawal are going to be covered. And the bank knows I was robbed, but can’t turn down the opportunity to make more money.

In the 80’s a monk from my Order who lived in New York was murdered for his welfare cheque. Today, when I can’t stop crying, it seems to me he got the better deal.

My response:

Hi Sister

do you have a copy of the police report you filed?
If you have that, and you’re happy for me to post it, I can start up a GoFundMe website to collect donations.
That won’t contravene any laws.
I’d be interested to read the report anyway… it sounds truly shocking, what happened to you…

Bill

Here’s what she came back with:

No-I wasn’t given a copy. The best I can do is retell or blog my story

This was strange, I thought. You file a police report for armed robbery – and you aren’t given a police report? That seemed very odd to me. At this point I phoned a good friend who lives in Montreal. She’s a very experienced television journalist and documentary maker. She told me that if you lose your wallet on a bus in Canada, you are given a police report.

So I questioned Sister Clare more closely –

Hi Sister –

Whenever you fill out a police report, you’re always given a copy as a matter of course. 

Can you please give me the name of the police station where you filed the report, and the name of the officer? 

 Why can’t you get your lawyer to get you a copy? 

I hope you understand that I’m trying to do everything possible to get you some money, but I can’t do anything until I get a copy of that police report. 

 Bill

Here was Sister Clare’s response:

Bill, believe me I am aware that my fate basically lies in your hands, and I am grateful. I intend to get a copy of the report, but will have to recheck with my lawyer-because and I am not happy about this – I think giving it to a third party with intention to publish is an offense. I am sure the only reason I didn’t get a copy was my rush to get out of there, and an oversight on their part. There is also a friendly (I think) police chief in town whom I will speak to about the consequences of “losing” my copy.

And if nothing can be done, I would like your nod to blog about what happened and the non-co-operation of the agencies involved-because I think if I got robbed on the Camino, people would come forth to help-and I don’t understand why it can’t be the same way in the larger world.

This now started to concern me. Was Sister Clare wanting to post on my blog that she was robbed at gunpoint, so that “people could come forth to help…”?

What sort of help? Donations? Like we did with the Kit the Nun campaign.

By now there were enough inconstancies in her story to make me very wary – and so I pushed harder to get the police report. I did not want her to use my blog to post anything that I couldn’t prove to be true and factual.

Also, I was curious because suddenly her email name had changed, to Alison Ferrier – not Sr Simon Clare, as it always had been. So here’s how I responded:

Hi Sister – 

a quick question: your email has the name Alison Ferrier on it, yet it’s the same underlying email address.

Is that your name or someone else’s? 

Bill

Her reply:

Why do you ask?

My reply:

Your name on your email address is Alison Ferrier. It used to be Sr.Simon – I want to know who Alison Ferrier is – and why you would be emailing under that name…

Why won’t you tell me?

 Bill

Her response:

This is a bizarre story about a nun, a gun, and a hatful of lies.

It involves deceit, masterful manipulation, and Holy vows before the Throne of God.

Let me tell you The Strange Tale of Sister Clare…

The internet can be a dark and murky place. We form friendships, we share secrets, we give over our trust to people we think we know from hours spent with them on the internet.

But do we really know them?

Who, for instance, is Sister Simon Clare?

I thought I knew, but now I’m not so sure…

She came onto this blog suddenly very early on, and quickly established a strong presence. It was apparent to me that she would continue to have a presence.

So Jennifer and I called her on the phone, to check her out.

We had a long conversation, and she seemed the real deal. Later I had a second conversation with her, and even though there were a couple of things that niggled with me – things that didn’t quite add up – I put them aside, because her writing on the blog was so persuasive.

I wondered why she was staying at home for instance, and not in a monastery or a church. She said she had a quadriplegic son, and she had been given special dispensation to stay at home and look after him.

Okay.

Then there was the issue with her gravatar – her picture attached to her posts. I asked for one, but she said she didn’t have a photo of herself. I asked that she take a photo with the camera on her phone, or from the webcam on her computer.

She didn’t want to do that.

After several requests and quite a few weeks, she finally produced a photo. Two photos. She said they were the only shots she had of herself. No others.

Well, I certainly was surprised at the photo. She was beautiful, and had a clear bright energy radiating out from her picture. She was everything you would want a nun to look like in a photo.

I remember when the photo finally went up on the blog, everyone expressed similar surprise, and delight.

But why had it taken so long? And why only two shots?

I put it down to her being a nun, and not having easy access to pictures of herself.

And then Sister Clare started telling me, off her own volition, how poor she was. And how she had no money – that nuns received no payment from the church. She told me that the welfare system in Canada didn’t provide enough money to adequately look after her handicapped son, and that she mainly survived on a small monthly stipend provided by her doctor.

At the time, I wondered: Is she wanting me too to provide her with a monthly stipend? If not, then why mention it?

Remember, I’d never asked her about any of this. She’d taken it upon herself to tell me off her own bat.

She told me other things too about her personal background, which I won’t go into here – but I will just say that her stories were truly harrowing.

She also told me about how ill she was. She detailed how she had to have 50 injections a week for an ailment that she never specified. This from the doctor who provided her with the stipend. You would have to have a heart of ice not to feel enormously sorry for Sister Simon Clare.

I began to give her more prominence on the blog – and I gave her several guest posts. She became very popular. You all loved her.

When I started the forum I gave her Moderator Permissions – and in fact I created her own forum for her, for Prayer Requests.

In her comments on the blog, and in private emails to me, she told of things she’d done in the past, both as a nun and before she joined the church, which surprised many of us. She had lived a full and colourful life.

Some of you I know expressed surprise at some of the things Sister Clare claimed to have done, or experienced. But none of us questioned her credibility. She was a nun, after all.

And nuns don’t lie.

In the first telephone conversation we had, Sister Clare had told Jennifer and me that she’d always wanted to walk the Camino. That it was her one big dream. But she had no money. She was saving what little she could and she hoped that one day she would get to become a Camino pilgrim.

When I later got a call from my travel agent, asking if I’d be interested in organising a Camino tour. I immediately thought of Sister Clare. I thought this would be a perfect way to make her dream a reality – I would do a tour, and cover the costs for her to come along.

I knew that her health issues might be problematic, so I organized to have a van on back-up support the entire way. This was principally for Sister Clare’s benefit.

And so I committed to the tour, and asked Sister Clare if she wanted to come, and be a tour leader along with Jennifer and myself. I told her we would cover all her costs.

Of course she jumped at it, and offered to hold daily Centering Prayer sessions for the pilgrims on the tour.

But there was a problem. She had no hiking gear, no clothing, nothing. And she had no money. So one of the contributors to the blog, Susan Sande, offered to coordinate a campaign whereby we ask for donations of gear and cash for Sister Clare.

And so I started up the “Kit the Nun” campaign.

Some of you swung into it with enormous generosity. Susan was sent a wide range of goods, including boots, a jacket, backpack – the works. Also a brand new camera worth about $850, an iPod Nano, an iPod Touch – and some of you even wanted banking details to wire money.

I put a value on the goods donated at a couple of thousand dollars, at least.

Still, the private emails from Sister Clare kept coming, telling me how hard her life was, how impoverished she was, and what a struggle each day was. She would give me gruesome details of the difficulties she was having with her quadriplegic son.

Behind the scenes, I was having to do some damage control with Sister Clare. She believed certain people on the blog weren’t treating her with due respect, and she complained bitterly to me about their treatment of her.

She asked me to admonish them.

At the time, I thought she was over-reacting, and I dealt with these episodes in a manner I thought appropriate. But I wondered about Sister Clare’s state of mind. It seemed she was very reactive and overly sensitive. I was also surprised at the level of anger she was directing towards some of you on the blog. I put it down to her health problems.

And then her Retreat came around.

She emailed me saying that she had no money and she needed $500 immediately – $250 for the cost of the retreat, and $250 to pay her heating. She told me that if she didn’t pay the $250 for the retreat, she would be expelled from the Order.

She said that she’d lent $500 to a friend who hadn’t paid her back.

Whilst she never explicitly asked me for money, the email was implicitly clear. Why email me telling me this if she didn’t want me to spring for the $500?

I felt very uncomfortable having someone I’d met on the internet talking about money this way. I told her I wasn’t in a position to cover the $500, and she emailed back saying: Oh Bill, I would never ask you for money. You’ve already been so kind to me.

Presumably she found the $500 from somewhere because she attended the Retreat. At least, I assume she attended the Retreat. She told me she did. And at that stage, I was taking Sister Clare at her word.

And then shortly after returning, about two weeks ago, she emailed me to say she had just withdrawn $700 from her bank, and she’d been robbed. At gunpoint.

Hmmm, I thought.

Just before the Retreat she was destitute with no money, now she’s withdrawing $700 from her account? She told me later that the friend who owed her the $500 still owed her that money. So where had the $700 come from?

This is Part One of The Strange Tale of Sister Clare.

As some of you might know, I am currently traveling, and have only intermittent access to the internet. I will post further Parts progressively, when I have the chance.

I won’t respond to comments or questions until I’ve laid out the entire strange tale of Sister Clare…

As many of you who read this blog know, I am a big supporter of dwarfs.

LITTLE PEOPLE HAVE BIG HEARTS – that’s something I think should be emblazoned on bumper stickers and t-shirts.

Now there’s a book out on the dignity of dwarfs – Little People, Big Lives. 

Written by Carole Lander, she states:

I was particularly angered by the incident at St Kilda Football Club’s Mad Monday celebration when player Clinton Jones took a lighter to the clothes of dwarf entertainer Blake Johnston.

This action highlights a certain prejudice against people living with this particular physical difference. Johnston uses the stage name Mr Big and works under the auspices of a firm called Dwarf My Party.

An internet search for ”dwarf entertainment” reveals an interesting range of services on offer from performers of short stature.

While they include TV commercials and corporate functions, they also list bucks’ parties, hens’ nights, birthdays, Valentine’s Day and weddings – functions at which they will dress up in costume to entertain the guests. The directors of Dwarf My Party conceived this business idea in 2006 and their company has now spawned several more.

http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/dignity-of-dwarfs-is-a-very-big-deal-20131109-2x8la.html

Anyone wishing to buy me a Christmas present – they now know what to get me…

– in a low slung coupe when the track turns crap because you will do some serious damage to the underside and it may not be covered by insurance.

More on that later…

What is it about the Portuguese people that makes them so friendly, so gracious, so welcoming.

Jennifer and I were frazzled when we arrived at Villa ‘d Arcos – a beautiful little family run hotel on the outskirts of the small township of Arcos.

The hotel is right smack bang on the Camino – pilgrims walk right past the front door – although they are very scant on this part of the Portuguese Way this time of the year, it seems. Today, we did not see one pilgrim between Vila do Conde and Barcelos.

The hotel has only five rooms, and because we were the only guests last night, we were upgraded to a suite. I’ll write more about our time there on the Road Food blog – (http://www.billsroadfood.com) – but I’ll just say here that last night has to rate as one of the best nights I’ve ever spent on the road, period.

After a breakfast of fresh fruit salad, freshly squeezed orange juice, cold hams and cheeses, and some much needed coffee, Jennifer and I headed off to Vila do Conde.

Yesterday at Porto airport the Hertz guy kindly upgraded me to a Renault 208CC coupe.  Seems like right at the moment I’m carrying an energetic bubble over my head saying UPGRADE ME, UPGRADE ME.

I’m not fussed about coupes. I think they’re stupid. I can’t see the need for them. In the pouring rain yesterday the Hertz guy showed me in painstaking detail how to take the top down on this car.

“In case the sun comes out,” he said optimistically. “And you want wind in your hair.”

I told him I didn’t want wind in my hair. It didn’t suit me. If I get wind in my hair it might blow all my hair off my head. I said I didn’t want to return the car in a week, wearing a rug.

Undaunted, and with the rain soaking us both, he explained that if I wanted to take the top down, then I couldn’t have any luggage in the trunk.

Given that we’re traveling with luggage, and there’s no room in the backseat in this stupid car to store luggage, (or at least only enough room for someone who has recently been to Afghanistan and trodden on a landmine,) I again told him that I didn’t think I would be taking the top down.

(I should state here that Jennifer has told me quite emphatically that if I keep this reference to a legless war veteran from Afghanistan, then she is having nothing further to do with this blog.)

Anyway, I didn’t like this coupe. To sit behind the wheel you had to drop down into it. I don’t believe you should have to either drop down into a car or climb up into a car. Both are undignified. You should just get into a car.

This is why I hate 4WDs. You have to climb up into them. There are other reasons why I hate 4WDs too – one being that if you back out of your driveway and you accidently run over your child, then the poor little bugger is only good for stock. Or pet food. But if you’re driving a smaller car, then you’ve probably only just dented the little tyke.

Back to Portugal…

Our plan on this trip is to follow the Camino from Porto up to Santiago, and to find suitable hotels for the tour, good restaurants, and see what sections of the route might prove problematic for our pilgrims.

The first night’s stay on the tour will be in Vila do Conde, a beautiful town on the coast – so that’s where we went.

As it turned out the weekly markets were in full swing, so we wandered through, looking at the various stalls selling clothing, cooking utensils, fruit and vegetables, pastries and bread, and all manner of nick-naks.

There was a stall selling dried cod – the fish having come from Norway. And I marveled at the fruit and vegetables. They looked real. They looked like they’d been grown in a garden, not genetically modified in a laboratory and buffed up to look good in a supermarket display.

We then had coffee and a pastry made of hazelnut meringue, with orange jam inside. Along with the two coffees – a latte and a cappuccino – the bill came to €2.70. I’d forgotten how cheap Portugal is.

We then went to the Information Office, found out which was the best hotel in town, walked there and checked out the rooms, and made a note that this is where we would all stay the first night out from Porto.

We then made our way down to the water. The town sits on an inlet, and high on a hill is a magnificent monastery. At the base of the hill are a line of shops and restaurants, and it was outside one of these that I saw a man huddled over a smoking barbeque.

We walked up and I saw that he was barbequing pork ribs. So we walked in and ordered lunch. Again, I’ll detail this in the Road Food blog, but the ribs were part of the set lunch menu. And needless to say, they were delicious.

I talked to the manager of the restaurant, and made arrangements for us to have dinner there when we return on the tour on April 6^th.

Then we headed off to Barcelos, which is to be our 2^nd night stop-over.

Jennifer and I stayed in Barcelos in May of this year, and we discovered an amazing Portuguese Grilled Chicken restaurant. Just like Bresse in France, Barcelos is famous for its chickens. Which means this restaurant has to have the best Portuguese Grilled Chicken in the world.

We’re eating there in a few hours.

However, let me take you back to the lengthy title of this post.

I wanted to follow all the yellow arrows to see what the route was like – yet I’d forgotten that I was in a car this time, and not on foot. So when the yellow arrows directed me off the tar and onto a muddy and rock strewn track, I was determined to keep following.

Did I say how much I love 4WDs for their high clearance?

This stupid coupe was so low to the ground it would bump its belly on a snail if you drove over it.

Against Jennifer’s protestations, which quickly transitioned into panicked shrieks and then involuntary gasping, I gunned this car along this impassable track.

Earlier this year, nothing stopped me walking the Camino Frances, and today nothing was going to stop me driving the Camino Portuguese.  It was only when I hit a rock and heard a horrible metallic crunching from underneath that I finally did stop.

Oh yes, and it was hard driving with Jennifer pummeling me with her fists.

I’d just got through a section that would have stopped some drivers on the Dakar rally. But up ahead the track dropped steeply. It was muddy and rocky. There was no way this stupid girly car could make that drop.

(By the way, Jennifer has said that if I use the word “girly” in this context, she will have nothing further to do with this blog.)

So I did a U turn – which meant renegotiating the Dakar Rally section again. I handed Jennifer her Kindle and asked her to look up Barcelos Hotels in the Lonely Planet Guide to Portugal.

So she was otherwise occupied when I gunned this stupid girl car back over that part of the track, this time neatly missing that miscreant rock which most probably had cracked the diff.

We got through it, and arrived in Barcelos, the car covered in mud.

Here’s the thing – if I return the car to Hertz covered in mud, then they’ll put it on a hoist and do a full check of the vehicle, including the underside. They’re bastards like that.

But if I get the car washed and return it sparkling clean, then it’ll probably be three or four rentals before the engine seizes. And they’ll never trace it back to me.

Unless one of you tells them!

Just remember, I have PGS. I will know which of you has dobbed me in…

I am now starting to catch up on entries to my Road Food blog.

Jennifer and I, when we left Mudgee, took a detour on the way to the airport and drove through those parts of the Blue Mountains at the back of Sydney that had been ravaged by the recent bushfires.

We came across a cafe, high on a ridge, and stopped in. As it turned out, this cafe became the epicentre of the fires – and for five intense days the owners looked after all the crews and media by feeding them, and making them coffees.

Amazing people. Very humble, self deprecating – real Aussies.

I’ve posted their story here –
http://www.billsroadfood.com/2013/11/08/bushfire-hero-tucker/

I will now start to catch up on some of the food stories on this trip, including London and now Arcos, at the start of our Portuguese adventure.

Bookmark the Road Food blog, because I think there will be some interesting stuff come up on this trip, and on my travels generally. The blog is not so much about the food, but the unique stories BEHIND the food, and the experience of finding and enjoying the food.

http://www.billsroadfood.com

My heart skipped a beat this afternoon.

After the flight from London, picking up the rental, driving in the rain out of Porto, and trying to find the hotel in Arcos, I saw a series of yellow arrows.

markings on an old stone wall…

I can’t begin to describe to you what it meant – something as simple as seeing several yellow arrows pointing The Way.

It felt… right.

It felt like I’d never been away.

It felt like I was reconnecting with something that was innately familiar.

The hotel we’re staying in tonight is smack bang on the Portuguese Camino. Anyone coming from Porto would walk straight past.

The people who run this place – a delightful couple named Mira (who cooks) and Alfred (who  knows his Portuguese wines like no other) and their daughter Christina, all made us feel immediately at home.

The food was magnificent – I’ll detail that more in the Road Food blog in the next day or so. But there aren’t many times when you have a meal and there’s not one thing you can point to that’s in any way deficient.

Tomorrow Jennifer and I start charting the tour.

And great news – Steve has decided to join us! I’m over the moon about that. We’re going to have  a very cool bunch of people on this tour!

Mira walked from Porto to Santiago in five days, she said. She told me she averaged fifty kms a day. That’s Herculean. She looks very fit and strong though. It wouldn’t surprise me.

it’s great to be back and talking to people who share a similar obsession…
The Way of St. James.

(the church at Arcos, approx 20kms N of Porto.)

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This is the first business trip I've done post Camino.

I've done things vastly differently this trip, because of what I experienced on my pilgrimage.

By way of background, I've been an independent film producer / director for more than thirty years, and during that time I've traveled a lot. And by “a lot,” I mean up to three to four times a year, often around-the-world trips.

Everywhere from Australia is a long way. There were a few years where I was on the highest frequent flyer level on both Star Alliance and One World.

When you travel as much as I do, you establish a set routine, and you do things a very particular way. You do this to protect yourself from the visissitudes of jetlag, and to make life easier on the road.

This trip I busted that all wide open.

For starters, and I mentioned this before, I am traveling with just carry-on luggage.

I used to have carry-on (my trusty battered Lancel wheelie bag) plus a suitcase which invariably weighed 20kgs+. My carry-on would weigh 12kgs+.

This time I got everything I needed for three weeks on the road, attending business meetings and packing for cold weather, into a small Samsonite case that weighed 11kgs. Most of that weight was my MacBook Pro, and my Nikon kit.

Whenever I stay in London, I usually stay at a small boutique hotel in Soho. It's called Hazlitts. It's very exclusive, (for “exclusive” read “expensive”) and it's very cool. And it's right in the heart of the film industry in London.

Whenever you go to a business meeting, you're always asked where you're staying, and you're judged on that. If you're in London and you're staying at Hazlitts, then it means you're cool and you're successful.

This time I booked into a pub in Wandsworth.

Where?

Wandsworth is in the suburbs. It's across the Thames from Chelsea. It is definitely UN-cool. But it's REAL.

Why this particular pub? It's what's called a “gastro-pub,” which means it's got terrific British pub food. And as I say, it's in the suburbs. It's about as far away from hip Soho as you can get.

(Well, not really. I could go way the hell out of town, but I had to be practical.)

As well, usually when I'm in London I take cabs everywhere. A cab to and from the airport, cabs to and from business meetings, cabs back to the hotel.

This time when I landed at Heathrow, instead of blindly heading straight for the cab stand, I found the tube. The subway.

I bought what's called an Oyster card, which is an electronic travel card for use on the tube and buses. I put £25 credit on it for three days traveling around London.

The cab fare from London to Hazlitts in Soho used to cost me close to £75. This time the tube to the pub in Wandsworth cost me £3.80.

I have been traveling the last couple of days around London, from meeting to meeting, using the underground. I will leave London with about £8 credit remaining on my Oyster, which I can reclaim at Gatwick.

Before the Camino, I would never have considered doing a business trip this way.

In one of the meetings – a very important one with the head of a very prestigious sales company whom I'd never met before – the bloke asked me where I was staying, and I told him. He looked at me, mystified. He said: Wandsworth? Why?

I told him I wanted to do things differently. I was tired of doing the same things the same way. Staying in the same place, eating at the same restaurants, going to the same coffee shops. I wanted to have new experiences.

He said: Yes, okay – but there is a very nice pub in Knightsbridge. I put my eccentric actors there all the time. It is very good food, and the rooms are very beautiful.

I explained that I wanted to see a different side of London. Not the Harrods London, the Tesco London. I think I totally confused him. I didn't care.

And here's the thing post Camino – I don't care about impressing anyone anymore. I don't care what people think of me. They can judge me on my work – what I've done, and what I can do in the future. If they wish to judge me on what hotel I stay in, then more the fool them.

Perhaps the biggest change in me this trip though has not been cab vs tube, fancy hotel vs local pub, big suitcase vs hand luggage – it's been internal.

On previous trips I set myself very definite goals, and sought very particular outcomes. This time I didn't. I've approached this trip the way I approached my Camino – trusting that my PGS will guide me the right way to my highest good.

On my Camino I would lob Into a town and allow my PGS to guide me to the best place for me to sleep that night. And it always did. This time I lobbed into London and allowed my PGS to determine what was best for me this trip.

What it meant was this – I went into each business meeting totally relaxed. Because I didn't want anything from it. I trusted that my PGS would guide me to what was best for me.

If the financier I had lunch with today (in Gordon Ramsay's restaurant in the Savoy) wants to put $7m into my movie, and if that's the best thing for the film and for me, then it will happen. And I don't need to worry.

If my PGS determines that it's best I don't have that financing, then it won't happen.

Either way, I'm sweet. So why worry?

It's the first high level financing meeting I've done in my time as an independent producer where I've gone in completely at ease, not wanting anything other than to have a nice lunch with an interesting person.

I'd let go the rope.

And you know what happened?

The financier kept on wanting to talk about financing the picture. Without any effort or prompting from me. She was the one who kept talking about the timing of contracts, and if the film would be ready for the Venice Film Festival etc.

I just sat back and enjoyed the foie gras.

Will the financing happen? Who knows. I don't care. Because only the right thing will happen. I know that as certainly as when I walked into Hontanas late that afternoon and found a bed for the night.

I love my new life!!

I thought it was high time that I stated clearly what the Rules & Regulations are for this blog.

I do this because a sometime contributor, Clare, posted a comment in which she said this: There is a lot of self-congratulation about this being a “safe” place. I don’t know what that means. It is only safe if you toe the line, and it is a continuing struggle to see the line. All social groups are like that, so it is OK, but don’t go on about it being “safe.”

Okay. So now it’s time to lay down the Rules & Regulations:

1. Thou shalt have respect for one another – their opinions, points of view, and use of smilies.
2. Though shalt refrain from criticising, abusing or in any way disparaging anyone else, including but not limited to Rachael, Peter, Brendan, and Clare herself. Exceptions to this rule include anyone who hasn’t started their Camino from St. Jean Pied de Port.
3. Thou shalt refrain from the use of foul or offensive language, particularly in relation to matters regarding the Sydney Swans or the Australian Cricket team. Exceptions to this rule include references to the Collingwood Football Club, the Poms (but only during The Ashes) and anyone who resides in Melbourne.
4. Thou shalt identify thyself – which means NO SUNGLASSES IN YOUR GRAVATAR pic!
5. Thou shalt not use this blog for any blatant or crass commercial or advertising purposes. Exceptions to this rule include Bill Bennett’s Portuguese Camino Tour (hurry pilgrims, only a few places left!) and Bill Bennett’s book, The Way, My Way – a truly FABULOUS read, now out on Kindle and iBooks. (links can be found on this blog! Only $5.79!! It makes a GREAT Christmas present!!)
6. Thou shalt not engage in any conversations of an overtly sexual or erotic nature. SO BE VERY CAREFUL OF THE USE OF THE WORD “LOVE.”
7. Thou shalt not overly use CAPITALISATIONS or italics. (NO EXCEPTIONS!)
8. Thou shalt toe the PGS The Way Line. You will be informed in due course as to where that line starts and finishes. In the meantime, BEHAVE. (Ooops, forgot Rule # 7!)
9. Thou shall keep this blog a Safe Place. A definition of “Safe Place” will be posted in due course, once Bill Bennett works out what it actually means. In the meantime, anyone found flagrantly making this blog an UN-safe place will have their offending comment or comments deleted for a minimum of thirty minutes, and then reinstated in a separate post for general discussion.
10. Lastly, and most importantly: Thou shall not laugh at burning dwarfs!

These are the PGS The Way Ten Commandments.

Anyone who disobeys them will be required to write a Guest Post.

Signed,

Bill Bennett,
Author of THE WAY, MY WAY
Tour Leader, PGS Pilgrim Tours.