The golden buddha, part 1
The story begins some time ago, when I set off to walk the Camino from St Jean Pied de Port to Santiago de Compostela in northern Spain. That was in Spring, 2004 I took with me a small figurine of the Buddha, golden in colour. It had belonged to my father, who had recently died. I intended to take it all the way to Santiago. It wasn't actually made of gold. Brass, more like. My father had bought it from the local auction room for a few pounds. But it meant a lot to me because he valued it. It sat on the mantelpiece next to his chair along with various pipes and other smoking paraphernalia. I had to return home for work reasons after only a week of walking and having covered just a hundred miles or so of the 500 mile route. Before I left the path, I buried the Golden Buddha under a tree, in the garden of a ruined church, high on a hillside, overlooking the plains of La Rioca. I made a map, pinpointing the location to the nearest hand's breadth, fully intending to come back la...