| Abstrakt: |
In the cities I walked through - Pamplona, Logroño, Burgos, Leon, Astorga - I ate the inexpensive prix fixe menus pilgrims often eat: cold french fries, chicken cutlets. One night when my son was three months old, I turned to Matt, my husband, and said, "What if you quit your job and we move to Barcelona so I can write this book and you'll take care of Julian?" Once a week Matt and I would leave Julian with a babysitter and gorge ourselves on jamón, gambas, and almejas and come home tipsy at midnight. [Extracted from the article] |
