ogro–o is one of the largest cities through which pil- grims traveling the Jacobean route pass. The only other city of any size that we had entered had been Pamplona but we had not spent the night there. On the after- noon that we arrived in Logro–o, though, the city was preparing for a great festival, and Petrus suggested that we stay there, at least for one night.

I was used to the silence and freedom of the coun- tryside, so the idea did not much appeal to me. It had been five days since the incident with the dog, and every night since then, I had invoked Astrain and per- formed the Water Exercise. I was feeling very calm, and I was more and more aware of the importance of the Road to Santiago in my life and of the question of what I was going to do after the pilgrimage had ended. The area we walked through was like a desert, the meals were seldom very good, and the long days on the Road were exhausting, but I was living my dream.

All of these feelings disappeared the day we arrived at Logro–o. Instead of the warm, pure air of the fields, we found a city crowded with cars, journalists, and

television equipment. Petrus went into the first bar we saw to ask what was happening.

You didnt know? Today is the wedding of Colonel M.s daughter, said the bartender. We are going to have a huge public banquet in the square, and I am closing early today.

It was impossible to find rooms at a hotel, but even- tually we were given lodging at the home of an elderly couple who had noticed the shells on Petruss knapsack. We showered, I put on the only trousers that I had brought, and we left for the town square.

Dozens of workers, perspiring in their black suits, were putting the finishing touches on the tables that had been placed all over the square. National television crews were filming the preparations. We went down a narrow street that led to the church of the Royal Santiago parish, where the ceremony was about to begin.

Flocking to the church were great numbers of well- dressed people. The womens makeup was running in the heat, and their children, dressed in white, were irri- table. Some fireworks were exploding overhead as a long black limousine stopped at the main gate. It was the groom arriving. There was no room for Petrus and me in the church, so we decided to go back to the square.

Petrus wanted to scout around, but I sat down on one of the benches, waiting for the ceremony to end and the banquet to begin. Nearby, a popcorn vendor,

hoping for a windfall profit, awaited the crowd from the church.

Are you one of the invited guests? he asked me.

No, I answered. We are pilgrims on our way to Compostela.

Theres a train that goes there straight from Madrid, and if you leave on a Friday, you get your hotel free.

Yes, but we are doing a pilgrimage.

The vendor looked at me and said respectfully, Pilgrimages are made by saints.

I decided not to get into that discussion. He said that his daughter had already been married but was now separated from her husband.

In Francos time, there was more respect, he said. Nowadays, no one cares about the family.

Despite my being in a strange country, where it is never advisable to talk politics, I could not let this pass without a response. I said that Franco had been a dicta- tor and that nothing during his time could have been better than now.

The vendors face turned red. Who do you think you are, talking like that? I know this countrys history. I know the war the

people fought for their freedom. I have read about the crimes of the Franco forces during the Spanish civil war. Well, I fought in that war. I was there when my familys blood was spilled. Whatever stories you have read dont interest me; what Im concerned about is what happens to my family. I fought against Franco, but

when he won the war, life was better for me. Im not a beggar, and I have my little popcorn stand. It wasnt this socialist government we have now that helped me. Im worse off now than I was before.

I remembered what Petrus had said about people being content with very little. I decided not to press my point of view, and I moved to another bench.

When Petrus came back, I told him about my exchange with the popcorn vendor.

Conversation is useful, he said, when people want to convince themselves that what they are saying is right. I am a member of the Italian Communist Party. But I didnt know about this fascist side of you.

What do you mean, fascist side? I asked him angrily.

Well, you helped the popcorn man to convince himself that Franco was good. Maybe he never knew why. Now he knows.

Well, Im just as surprised to learn that the ICP believes in the gifts of the Holy Ghost.

Well, I have to be careful about what the neighbors will think, he said, laughing.

The fireworks started up again, as musicians climbed to the bandstand and tuned their instruments. The festi- val was about to begin.

I looked up at the sky. It was growing dark, and the stars were beginning to appear. Petrus went over to one of the waiters and brought back two plastic cups full of wine.

It is good luck to have a drink before the party begins, he said, handing me one of the cups. Have some of this. It will help you forget about the popcorn man.

I wasnt even thinking about him anymore.

Well, you should. Because what happened with him is an example of mistaken behavior. We are always trying to convert people to a belief in our own explana- tion of the universe. We think that the more people there are who believe as we do, the more certain it will be that what we believe is the truth. But it doesnt work that way at all.

Look around. Here is a huge party about to begin. A commemoration. Many different things are being cele- brated simultaneously: the fathers hope that his daugh- ter would marry, the daughters wish for the same thing, the grooms dreams. Thats good, because they believe in their dreams and want to demonstrate to everyone that they have achieved their goals. It is not a party that is being held to convince anyone of anything, so its going to be a lot of fun. From what I can see, they are people who have fought the good fight of love.

But you are trying to convince me, Petrus, by guid- ing me along the Road to Santiago.

He gave me a cold look.

I am only teaching you the RAM practices. But you will find your sword only if you discover that the Road and the truth and the life are in your heart.

Petrus pointed to the sky, where the stars were now clearly visible.

There is no religion that is capable of bringing all of the stars together, because if this were to happen, the universe would become a gigantic, empty space and would lose its reason for existence. Every star and every person has their own space and their own spe- cial characteristics. There are green stars, yellow stars, blue stars, and white stars, and there are comets, mete- ors and meteorites, nebulas and rings. What appear from down here to be a huge number of bodies that are similar to each other are really a million different things, spread over a space that is beyond human com- prehension.

A rocket from the fireworks burst, and its light obscured the sky for a moment. A shower of brilliant green streamers fell to the ground.

Earlier, we only heard their noise because of the daylight. Now we can see their light, Petrus said. Thats the only change people can aspire to.

The bride came out of the church, and people shouted and threw their handfuls of rice. She was a thin girl of about sixteen, and she held the arm of a boy in a tuxedo. The congregation appeared and began to move toward the square.

Look, theres the colonel ... Oh, look at the brides dress. How beautiful, said some boys near us. The guests took their places at the tables, the waiters served the wine, and the band began to play. The popcorn vendor was surrounded by a mob of screaming boys who made their purchases and then scattered the empty

bags on the ground. I imagined that for the townspeo- ple of Logro–o, at least that night, the rest of the world with its threat of nuclear war, unemployment, and murders did not exist. It was a festival night, the tables had been placed in the square for the people, and every- one felt important.

A television crew came toward us, and Petrus averted his face. But the men passed us by, heading for one of the guests who sat near us. I recognized immediately who he was: Antonio, the man who had led the Spanish fans in their cheers at the World Cup in Mexico in 1986. When the interview was over, I went up to him and told him that I was a Brazilian; feigning anger, he com- plained about a goal of which Spain had been robbed in the opening round of the Cup.*

But then he gave me a hug, and said that Brazil would soon once again have the best players in the world.

How do you manage to see the game when your back is always to the field and you are inciting the fans, I asked. It was something I had noticed over and over again during the television transmissions of the World Cup games.

Thats what gives me satisfaction. Helping the fans believe in victory.

* In the game between Spain and Brazil at that World Cup in Mexico, a Spanish goal was disallowed because the referee had not seen the ball cross the goal line before rebounding out. Brazil ended up winning that game 10.

And then, as if he too were a guide on the Road to Santiago, he said, Fans who lack the faith can make a team lose a game it is already winning.

Manolo was then grabbed by others who wanted to interview him, but I stood there thinking about what he had said. Even without ever having walked the Road to Santiago, he knew what it was to fight the good fight.

I found Petrus hiding behind some trees, obviously uncomfortable with the presence of the television cam- eras. It was only after their lights had been turned off that he emerged from the trees and relaxed a bit. We asked for two more cups of wine, I fixed myself a plate of canapŽs, and Petrus found a table where we could sit with some of the guests.

The newlyweds cut into a huge wedding cake. People cheered.

They must really love each other, I said.

Of course they do, said a dark-suited man sitting with us. Have you ever heard of anyone marrying for any other reason?

I kept my answer to myself, remembering what Petrus had said about the popcorn vendor. But my guide didnt let it pass.

Which kind of love are you talking about: eros, philos, or agape?

The man looked at him blankly. Petrus got up, filled his cup, and asked me to walk with him.

There are three Greek words that mean love, he

began. Today, you are seeing a manifestation of eros, the feeling of love that exists between two people.

The bride and groom were smiling for the photogra- phers and accepting congratulations.

It appears that these two really do love each other, he said, looking at the couple. And they believe that their love will grow. But shortly, they will be alone with each other, struggling to earn a living, build a house, and share their adventure. This is what ennobles love and dignifies it. He will do his time in the army. She is prob- ably a good cook and will be an excellent housewife, because she has been trained since she was a child for that role. She will be good company for him, theyll have children, and they will feel that they are building some- thing together. Theyll be fighting the good fight. So even if they have problems, they will never be really unhappy.

However, this story that I am telling you could go a very different way. He might begin to feel that hes not free enough to express all of the eros, all of the love that he has for other women. She might begin to feel that she gave up a brilliant career in order to be with her husband. So instead of creating something together, each could begin to feel robbed of a means of express- ing love. Eros, the spirit that unites them, would begin to reveal only its negative side. And what God had pro- vided to humans as their noblest sentiment would become a source of hatred and destructiveness.

I looked around me. Eros was present in many of the relationships there. The Water Exercise had awakened

the language of my heart, and I was seeing people in a different way. Maybe it was the days of solitude on the road, or maybe it was the RAM practices, but I could feel the presence of good eros and evil eros, just as Petrus had described.

Its strange, Petrus said, sensing the same thing. Whether its good or evil, the face of eros is never the same for any two people. Just like the stars I was talking about half an hour ago. And no one can escape eros. Everyone needs its presence, despite the fact that many times, eros makes us feel apart from the world, trapped in our solitude.

The band began to play a waltz. The guests went to a small cement section in front of the bandstand and started to dance. The alcohol was making itself felt, and people were perspiring more and smiling more. I noticed a girl dressed in blue who looked as if she had waited for this wedding just to have the chance to dance the waltz she wanted to dance with someone who would embrace her in the way she had dreamed of since adolescence. She was watching a well-dressed boy, who wore a white suit and stood among his friends. They were all talking and had not noticed that the waltz had begun. Nor did they see that a few yards away, a girl in a blue dress looked longingly at one of them.

I thought about small towns and marriage to the boy one has dreamed of since childhood.

The girl in blue saw that I was watching her and tried to conceal herself among her girlfriends. As she did, the

boy searched for her with his eyes. When he saw that she was there with her friends, he went back to his con- versation with his own group.

I pointed out the two of them to Petrus. He watched the game of glances for a while and then went back to his cup of wine.

They act as if it were shameful to make any show of love, was all he said.

A girl near us was staring at Petrus and me. She must have been half our age. Petrus held up his cup of wine and made a toast in her direction. The girl laughed in embarrassment and pointed toward her parents, as if to explain why she did not come closer.

Thats the beautiful side of love, Petrus said. The love that dares, the love for two older strangers who have come from nowhere and will be gone tomorrow gone into a world where she would like to travel, too.

I could hear in his voice that the wine was having an effect on him.

Today, we will talk of love! said my guide, a bit loudly. Let us speak of true love, which grows and grows, and makes the world go round, and makes people wise!

A well-dressed woman near us seemed not to be paying any attention at all to the party. She went from table to table, straightening the cups, the china, and the silverware.

See that woman there? asked Petrus. The one whos straightening things up? Well, as I said, eros has many

faces, and thats another of them. Thats frustrated love, with its own kind of unhappiness. She is going to kiss the bride and groom, but inside shell be saying that a knot has been tied around them. Shes trying to neaten up the world because she herself is in complete disor- der. And there he pointed toward another couple, the wife wearing excessive makeup and an elaborate coif- fure is eros accepted. Social love, without a vestige of passion. She has accepted her role and has severed any connection with the world or with the good fight.

Youre being very bitter, Petrus. Isnt there anyone here who can be saved?

Of course there is. The girl who was watching us, the adolescents that are dancing they know only about good eros. If they dont allow themselves to be influ- enced by the hypocrisy of the love that dominated the past generation, the world will certainly be a different place.

He pointed to an elderly couple sitting at one of the tables.

And those two, also. They havent let themselves be infected by hypocrisy like the others. They look like working people. Hunger and need have required them to work together. They learned the practices you are learning without ever having heard of RAM. They find the power of love in the work they do. Its there that eros shows its most beautiful face, because its united with that of philos.

What is philos?

Philos is love in the form of friendship. Its what I feel toward you and others. When the flame of eros stops burning, it is philos that keeps a couple together.

And agape?

Todays not the day to talk about agape. Agape is in both eros and philos but thats just a phrase. Lets enjoy the rest of the party without talking about the love that consumes. And Petrus poured some more wine into his plastic cup.

The happiness around us was contagious. Petrus was getting drunk, and at first I was a little surprised. But I remembered what he had said one afternoon: that the RAM practices made sense only if they could be per- formed by the common people.

That night, Petrus seemed to be a person like any other. He was companionable and friendly, patting people on the back and talking to anyone who paid him any attention. A little later, he was so drunk that I had to help him back to the hotel.

On the way, I took stock of my situation. Here I was, guiding my guide. I realized that at no time during the entire journey had Petrus made any effort to appear wiser, holier, or in any way better than I. All he had done was to transmit to me his experience with the RAM practices. Beyond that, he had made a point of showing that he was just like anyone else that he expe- rienced eros, philos, and agape.

This realization made me feel stronger. Petrus was just another pilgrim on the Road to Santiago.