As promised, at regular intervals for myforeign friends.

Looking back at the first 10 days it would be too much tomention all the details. So I decided to give you just some impressions of my journey, to get a touch of flavour.

The mornings are cold; the very first day I bought half a kilo of cheese, at a farmer who was awarded for his superior cheese, and I am still carrying this weight now already for the second and the third day, while I left my very thin and only 30 gr weighing fleece gloves at home, because of reduction of weight and volume. Would I make such a decision in my working life? Learning by doing is this. I walk through fields where they grow buxusses, millions of them. I have the idea that we are able to decorate all gardens in Holland and probably in the rest of Europe and the world with these buxusses. At night in a local restaurant I see the farmers and their relatives and employees. Strong guys and blond girls. Strong guys and blond and stout girls. (Sorry ladies, I just escaped punishment).

The third day is going along very old villages, nice farmhouses, the linden trees with their branches aligned. Here you still think that you are in the 19^th century, while only 15 km from the big cities. I arrive in Gorinchem, to cross the river by ferry. Some people are sitting on a bench. A man of about 50 is asking where I am going to. To Heusden, I said. That is a long walk he remarks. That is a relative issue I say, for today it might be, but for my whole trip to Rome it is a minor step. The man now tells that he has been to Santiago de Compostello with three friends, last year, and that he enjoyed it. Within minutes we are in a deep discussion,about life. God is what I see here, around me, he says, looking at the area around us where we see the river, the fields, the young blossoms, and old farmhouses. He is often going to Romania, where he is helping people in a small village in a deserted coal district. To set up their lives again, giving them some perspective. They are very nice people, beautiful people, he says. They have nothing but what should you need? I learned there to be happy with nothing. I enjoy it. At night we pick our instruments and we play music together.

At the other side of the river he accompanies me a little bit on my way, he with his bike at his hand. Then we say goodbye.

I walk along a church, and hear singing inside. It is a women's choir, singing a piece out of the Mattheus Passion. I wait till they have finished and enter. After my remark that they sing very nicely, that I am on my way to Rome and that I would like to have a stamp of their church in my pilgrimage book, the women burst out in laughter and consider this to be a nice interruption of their practising. They offer me coffee. One of the women remarks: we are all standing behind the pope, please can you bring that over to the pope when you are in Rome. The uneasy stillness which followed was broken by the conductor (a man who also hadwalked to Santiago) remarking that he was of a different opinion. Then another woman of the choir helped me out by bringing me to the pastor who gave me the stamp in my pilgrimage pass. The pass might be helping me in the coming times: you need it when you want to sleep in monasteries. On the pass there is a text stating: 'The Board certifies that the person identified in this document is a member of our Association and is undertaking a traditional pelgrimage to Rome. We kindly ask the reader to render this person such assistance as the circumstances require'. So this might be of help, but the actual proofthat you followed the route is of coursethe gathering of some stamps underway.

The other days are following the same pattern, meetingnice people, being engulfed inthe beautiful nature, every tree is in bloom, and my first physical problems (a very heavy diarrhoea) which made life not pleasant for a day and a half. But this has been overcome; I am surprised that I have already taken so much distance from my earlier work. I enjoy it.