Before I begin this post, i just want to apologise for the spelling and grammar errors! Fatigue can do that to you!
So, another confession to make! I actually walked the whole pyrenees today. 27km for steep up and steep down - and I am yet to decide what I like most! There were a few reasons for this... The main one is that it is suppose to rain tomorrow so I wanted to be out of the mountains by then... The other was because I arrived at my accommodation at 11am... No one was there and I am not patient at the best of times! So I did it! I am not going to lie.. There were times when I just felt like crying, and even now, laying in bed, I feel sore and needing a day of recovery tomorrow! - which I can't have because they kick you out by 830am! So my first day as a pilgrim has concluded!
The weather today is apparently the best they have seen in a while... It was warm and sunny! I went to the pilgrims office and Bernard was working there! He gave me my credential and my shell and away I went!
I have met couple of vocal Canadians - they're all the same! (haha Em!) and some Aussies! I got away at around 930am and arrived at Roncesvalles just as the church bell rang for 6pm! This albergue is amazing! 4 stories tall and after my struggle on the mountain, they have kindly placed me on the 3rd floor, bless their cotton socks!
I laid on my bed and fell asleep! I woke with 15mins until the pilgrim blessing at the church - I have to admit, I was torn between this and eating dinner! I was so hungry! The mass was amazing though! Gregorian chant like singing by two priests In the most incredibly beautiful church! Took a photo, but didn't do it any justice!
After this I went to a local restaurant / bar. I paid €3.50 for a glass of vino, some soup and bread! And shared the company of wilfred - a German cyclist!
Back at the albergue, they have turned out the lights! Yes, I have a 10pm curfew each night! So, it is time for me to settle in and rest my poor aching bones! :)
- buenos noches
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Finisterre and beyond the edge of the world...my final Camino blog :)
After spending my 'explore Spain' day in bed, sleeping, I was over Santiago. The rain, the impersonal feel of the damp, grey city, how I felt. This was not what I had expected it to be.
I had failed on getting my pedicure or massage. Failed on doing the pilgrim ritual in the Cathedral including hugging a beautiful statue of St James and just felt rotten.
My plan was to go to Finisterre the next day. That day, I received an email from Gigi, my french Canadian friend. Her and her Canadian friend, Bev, had ended up separating and she was arriving in Santiago the next day. She asked if she could come to Finisterre with me. Well of course I was fine with this, the company would be amazing, but I didn't want her to miss out on her pilgrim mass or receiving her compestela, or just 'enjoying' Santiago. She insisted this was fine and said that she would arrive around 1130am. The bus for Finisterre left at 1pm, and I needed to check out by 12pm. It was going to be close, but why the heck not!
By the evening, I was still tired, but feeling hungry having not eaten all day. I had found an Indian restaurant over the road - 'Punjabi'. It was a cute place run by a husband and wife who both spoke english. They both knew of Tasmania (the cricket, of course!) and shared my disbelief at how the spanish don't like or serve spicy food! Indian may not have been the best 'first food of the day on a weak stomach' choice, but it smelt so good! I watched Moulin Rouge in spanish - not half as bad as Doctor Dolittle! I slept for 13hours that night and the next day, I woke feeling better! - yeah, even I was surprised at this!
I left the hotel around 8am wanting to get some shopping done, visit the Cathedral, potentially squeeze in a massage and do all the things I had wanted to, but hadn't be able to. But nope. Spain doesn't open until 10am! So I walked around in the rain for a few hours, taking it all in, working on some patience that the Camino had obviously not yet taught me.
10am rolled around, everything was opening. I ran around quickly, buying some clothes for Holland - jeans and a top! Bought some Pjs - never needed any on Camino - may need some in Holland! And wanted to buy some souvenirs... This really disappointed me. The shops are all the same. I guess I should have realised that Santiago would be commercialised like this. I couldn't find anything special, however, I was feeling rushed needing to meet Gigi.
At 11am I went to the Cathedral square. I figured she would be there sooner. She was a fast walker and when you are on your last day, you find a pace you never thought you had!
The square was crowded, but there she was. I screamed (yep, loud, high pitched, girl type) out her name! We hugged like old friends. We were old friends. We relished in our moment for a minute, but then it was time to get moving so we could make it to Finisterre!
She had already been to get her certificate, so we were on our way. We got back to my hotel and received our instructions on which bus to take where. It would take 2 busses - one to the main station, then one for a 3 hour journey.
It was strange sitting on something that moved you. This was the first form of transport I had been on apart from my own legs for a month now. It felt odd, but good, but weird - like 'cheating' or something! After all, it would have only taken us 2 hours to walk to the main station, then 3 days to walk to Finisterre!
We left for our first bus, number 5 at 1210pm - cutting it a little fine. We found the little bus stop, then straight away, bus number 5 rolled up! Bingo! We boarded that and it took us to the main station. First leg, success! We found the ticket counter at the main station and purchased the tickets, €22 each. Purchased at 1250pm, tick! Our bus turned up at 1pm and we boarded! We were away... Off to the edge of the world! Off to see the ocean. I hadn't seen the ocean for 35 days. I did miss it. During the camino, I would look out and see off in the distant horizon, a dark line. My instant thought was, 'Oh, that's the ocean!', but then needed to correct myself with my geography! Now I will get to smell the salt air!
Within 2 hours, the bus was passing beautiful little seaside villages, that seemed to flow down the steep mountain sides and spill onto the sand. This is how I had always imagined Spain.
Finisterre came into view. It was a little larger than the others, and beautiful. Gigi and I jumped out of the bus, full of excitement! First stop was coffee and food.
Gigi and I had learned along the Camino that there are 3 things a pilgrim must do in Finisterre. 1. Watch the sunset, 2. Have a photo with the 0.0km sign, 3. Burn something. The lighthouse was the point of the sign and where we would see the sunset. I had heard that there was accommodation there, but I didn't know how much it would be - figured it would be a little more than the humble pilgrim was used to! ... But... for some reason, somehow, Gigi and I had managed to already ease our pilgrim conscience, saying that it was the end of the camino, so a splash out wouldn't hurt!
We went to find a cafe with wifi so I could check this lighthouse out! Turns out there are only 6 rooms and they were all booked out. The kind man at the cafe told us this when I gave up looking on the Internet and asked him to call. He came over and recommended a hotel, saying he would reserve for us, then drive us there! Wow! This was great - almost too great, but we went along with it! We finished our meals, took a walk, and then, as promised, the cafe owner drove us there.
It was beautiful. An old homestead situated 200m from the beach. It was clean and homely.
We checked in then made our way to the water... This would be a cool fresh final end of walking with purpose. The wind was harsh and the waves were fierce, and the sun glared, reflecting off the water. Together we walked into the water, arms around each other. The sand felt harsh on my feet. They are now harder in some places due to the blisters, but overall they are softer than when I begun due to all the moisturizing and massaging I have been giving them! We got to the water... It felt...well... FREEZING! But amazing too.
We spent some time here. Our plan, initially, was to relax here tonight, then walk to the lighthouse tomorrow as it was 3km away. We stood there in silence on the beach... right... so what now? It was 730pm. I turned to Gigi, "It's only 730pm, we still have another 2 1/2 hours of light! How would you feel about walking to the light house?". Gigi smiled, "Ah, why not!" Yep, mostly only pilgrims decide that walking 6km at 730pm at night 'just cause' is a good idea!
We walked, reminiscing about the past month. It was relaxing and good to walk. I had been walking around the city for the past few days, but not this sort of walking. I wasn't sure what sort of sunset we would get as the weather had been switching between intense sun and complete cloud cover with rain all day. But we had nothing to lose, chancing a break in the cloud when the sun hit the horizon.
We passed the 0.0km sign. Photo taken - tick!
We sat in a restaurant and waited for our second item on the list of 'Things to do in Finisterre', to see the sunset. I kept running outside and taking photos of the ever changing scene. The ocean looked like a silvery blue crushed velvet rug and my eyes became lost trying to look for it's end point. The lighthouse was situated out on a narrow point, giving me the impression I was fully surrounded by it. The sun reflected a golden light off it's crinkled surface and scattered rays throughout the thick clouds. It was incredible to watch. Finally, the sun disappeared behind a thick wall of cloud which sat on the horizon, blocking the final 'setting' part. It was 945pm at this point, so time to leave before it got too dark. We had seen the best bit of the sunset and I was happy with this! Sunset - tick!
We walked back to our hotel and settled into a very satisfied sleep. The next day we woke, as most pilgrims do, around 6am. Breakfast wasn't going to be served until 9am, so it was off to the beach again. The water had not yet let go of yesterday's fury, but the blue cloudless sky promised sun and perhaps some warmth.
After the beach and breakfast, we decided that Finisterre was done. The burning of an item of clothes would have to be left off the list. This was not important anyway. I have limited clothing and had struggled all camino thinking of which piece I should burn. I could not make economical or finacial sense of it - these things all cost me a fortune!
The clouds had rolled in once more. We boarded the bus just as it started to rain.
Back in Santiago, the streets were their usual shiny wet selves. We arrived at the train station around 2pm. There was a restaurant here, and it looked as good as any for lunch. It was here that I tried my first hamburger in so long. And it was incredible! The taste, the grease, the chips that I piled in it! Oh my. Amazing! Yes, I am easily pleased!
We got a taxi back to the hotel I had stayed at previously and re-booked it again for our mornings journey to the airport.
Gigi and I, once more ventured in to the city. We were going to the Cathedral to hug the statue of St James and to view his crypt, 2 things I had really wanted to do. Gigi also had some shopping to complete.
First we went to the Cathedral. There were not many people inside, so this made the line-ups short and the time you got to spend there less rushed. The first port of call was the statue. The statue of St James stood behind the central alter of the cathedral overlooking the main centre isle. I stood behind him, I placed my hands on his cold, golden, jewel embossed cloak. There I stood, giving thanks for the many things that I had experienced on my journey -health (a stomach bug was not much compared to some), the friends I had met, for safety and protection and for the subtle lessons I had learned.
I stepped down, my feet slipping into the well worn grooves on the steps many have walked on before me. I turned the corner and walked down some more steps into a dark room which sat below the central naive of the Cathedral. Here, at the end of a small dimly lit tunnel, sat a white box lined with intricate silver patterns. It looked out of place in its dark stone tunnel, but regal nonetheless. Here lay the remnants of St James. I felt humbled being here. I thought of all the pilgrims that had walked my journey, but having to battle disease, thieves, and poor conditions with little food or shelter, but drawn by faith alone to honor the Saint. This sort of faith is one that no pilgrim I met seemed to have and nor did I. I came for selfish reasons - knowing that the impact the Camino would have on me would be positive at the least, providing me a renewed appreciation and perspective on life. This experience inside the Cathedral meant a lot to me. It was the full stop on my Camino.
Walking out of the Cathedral, I heard a familiar voice. It was Richard, my pole angle! The man who had given his walking pole to me when I had mine stolen. I hugged him, and told him that I had given it back to the Camino. He was happy with this outcome.
Gigi and I enjoyed a dinner at a table with table cloth and a good wine.
As we made our way back to the hostel, we met up with Michael, the Irishman with the cat. He had walked the entire Camino based on the generosity of other pilgrims... makes for a pretty amazing journey.
This was my last evening in Santiago. I was ready to go. I am ready to see my friends, my family and get back to the world again - with the little changes that have been made within and the space that has been created. It's now time to plan so that I can ensure this space is put to good use on my return.
Walking 800km over 33 days in a foreign country without anything much familiar around you sure teaches you about yourself. A few lessons and truths for me from my Camino....
1. The race comes from the same place as the peace.
To begin with, I would walk at my maximum speed. This was a combination of wanting to get to my destination early enough to ensure a bed, but also, undeniably, a competitive streak coming out. I was getting frustrated when people passed me, feeling annoyed at my body when it could not keep up with my mind, and feeling jealous of the slow walkers because they seemed to be 'enjoying' themselves even though others were over taking them! I remember one lady I met in my first couple of weeks while walking to Puenta la Reina. She wandered from one side of the path to the other, touching the flowers, placing her hands on the bark of the olive trees, running her fingers through the wheat along the side of the road. I watched her and couldn't understand how, at just 5km from the destination town, could she be so 'chilled'. But she was. The thing is, the only person in my race was me. And I lost every time. This time the woman took to walk was a choice she made. This force to rush was just residue of my life back home, something I no longer needed. It was habit. I then started breathing between my footsteps, listening to the rhythm of my feet, smelling the air (not the little farm towns!) and taking a moment on the steep sections to stop and look around. This did not come natural, nor did it become habit, but it was a choice I made, and it felt good.
2. My mind has it's place.
Although I found that my mind was able to help me by wondering off on different journeys to distract me from the present pain, I also found that the mind could some days be my worst enemy. I am sure that people who suffer mental illness will testify to this!
The thing is, I discovered that my mind, although extremely influential over me, is not the control centre. When my mind was telling me that I couldn't keep going, that I was tired, that I didn't sleep well the night before and that the pain I felt in my leg and in my blisters was simply unbearable, I could hush this voice and just keep walking. My strength wasn't in my mind, it was within me. It's hard to explain, but I think our minds are given far too much credit for a force that can trick us, turn against us and follow processes that can be detrimental to us. Our mind is secondary. We, ourselves are a much greater force, with much more control than most of us think. We control the choice of our attitudes, and our minds control the attitude we choose.
I experienced the difficult and long process of taming my mind during my 10 day vipassana mediation course last year. I couldn't believe how 'wild' our minds are. They exist freely, roaming where ever, whenever they like, during sleep and throughout our waking moments. To train my mind to focus, to settle, to concentrate and even at times to shut off is something that I dont do enough of. Feeling the strength of my mind over my body during the walk made me realise just how much I should be meditating more.
3. So be it.
We are at the place we are meant to be at the time we are there. This was hard to reconcile with when the rain came bucketing down as I was walking, but it is true. Just enjoy where you are, and if you are not enjoying it, change it, or if you cant change it, know that change is inevitable anyway. Smiling while the mud clung to my boots and my feet slid out from beneath me was so exhilarating! 'Complaining' and getting annoyed seems to be a default reaction. But oh, to let that go and know that we are where we are meant to be is the only way to live! Enjoy what you have, where you are, right in this moment!
4. Pain is temporary.
The Camino taught me a lot about pain tolerance. That there are pains that can be ignored, cant be ignored and shouldn't be ignored. At the end of the day, I simply needed to accept that the pain is temporary and walk on.
5. Act first and foremost with love.
This is hard! And its not limited to how we act with others, but, arguably of more importance, how we deal with ourselves too.
Compassion, love and empathy are too often a secondary reaction with judgement being the first. Assume nothing, act in love.
My lovely papa gave me the New Testament for my 'spiritual first aid'. The day that I had lost Sylvia, I picked it up and found this verse:
"Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong. Do everything in love." 1 Corinthians 16 v 3... This verse became my personal challenge for the rest of the journey and I shared it with many.
Love is a theme on the Camino. The very sign of the Camino is a shell. It represents a lot and the meaning if it and its connection with Santiago is still not clear. One belief is that the shell is like that of an open hand to receive when facing up and giving when facing down. This is Camino. Receiving and giving in love with generosity, selflessness and of greatest value, time.
6. I will always lose my breath.
I remember one morning, leaving my small town and embarking on an uphill climb on my way to the '100km left to Santiago' sign. I started the uphill battle in my legs and lungs. I started to think, "I have walked 700km now, surely this should get easier!" But I now know that even after 800km, I still lose my breath up hills.
The difference is now that I am more resilient to the pain and the recovery is much faster. I now don't expect to ever climb a hill without panting. Even after 700km, I was still getting new blisters. No matter how similar the routines are, my body is still changing.
I think that I have had this belief that in life that after I do the same thing over again, it's going to be easier. I have heard people say "Isn't it that the older we get the easier life should be?" This is not the case. Again, we are a surrounded by impermanence. In life, my body will change, my circumstances will change. I am always going to encounter mountains that take my breath and make my muscles ache, but then, I will be stronger for the next one! I could go on to make some cliché comment about how every time I lost my breath, I knew an amazing view awaits me at the end of the struggle, but I think you get my point!
7. The open mind, the full cup.
On the Camino, some days I could simply retreat within myself and walk. Other days I would talk to pilgrims from all walks of life, nationalities, ages, cultures. Some would walk with you for a moment, others for a few hours and some would stay by your side for days. Whichever, I was able to listen to them and learn from them. On the Camino, despite our differences, our common purpose bound us at a level where open and trusting conversation took place between complete strangers. There were pilgrims that irritated me, intrigued me, drew me in and caused me to keep my distance. But all... every single one of them had something for me to learn from if I gave them the time and simply listened to their story. Some were profound stories of survival. Some where a simple want for the walk. Everyone is a teacher if as long as I am prepared to learn.
8. Patience and tolerance.
The Camino taught me that I am still learning both of these - and perhaps, patience especially, is still very much out of reach! :)
However, I want to take this opportunity to congratulate you on your patience and tolerance! I have sometimes read back on these blogs and have noticed the horrid spelling and grammatical and even formatting mistakes, errors and just complete stuff ups! I would like to blame my iPad keyboard, the fatigue of writing at the end of the day - (some days more than others) and my grade 2 teacher for not spending enough time with me on correct placement of commas!
But thank you... I know that there have been school teachers read this, family members with high standards in English and other 'anally retentive' dear friends read this and no one has said a word - your tolerance is much appreciated!
9. Me, myself and I.
One dear pilgrim friend of mine was on a journey to learn to be comfortable in his own company, sober, while on the pilgrimage - ironically enough, in this instance, most of the time I saw him, he was walking with others or came and walked with me! This whole 'learn to be ok in your own company' was a conversation that repeated a few times during the Camino. I was one of only a few who walked solo. It seemed that more often, the pilgrim's would walk with partners, friends or in a family group. I encountered a few raised eyebrows when they learned I was alone.
Comfort in solitude and peace in only the sound of your breathing is something that many avoid. I don't understand how they can not be at peace in their own company? Perhaps they are so irritating that they irritate themselves? I spoke to one gentleman about this when he confessed that he wanted always to be in the company of females. I spoke to him about learning to love his own company - then there is no 'need' for someone else, rather a 'healthier' want!
Silence truly is golden and your own company, at least I find, is sometimes the most intelligent you will find around! (joking!)
10. The holiest of holy...
I have had the pleasure of entering and admiring up close the incredible handy work of man in the ancient Cathedrals and Monasteries. They are truly breathtaking, but for me, they miss the point. They are an honor to the hand of man - to their creativity, their craftsmanship, their skill and their genius - but as for cultivating a spiritually inspiring 'air', I didn't feel it. I have always, and will continue to believe that spirituality is found where His hand crafted the mountains, the valleys, the flowers, the trees, the clouds, the skies and the oceans - here I am humbled, at peace and nearer to Him.
11. We can always do with less - and here you will find the most.
On Camino, simplification and minimalisation was one of the first lessons I learnt as I packed my bag at home. And I continued to learn as I sent home 2.7kg of 'stuff'. There is the material side of simplification, but also in the things that satisfy us.
I am part of a generation of consumers who had mostly had everything they need at their fingertips - a shower, a hot shower at that, a bed, accessible food, medical assistance at hand etc etc - these are classed as 'basic necessities'... the Camino took the 'basic' out of these necessities and added a 'to be grateful for' at the end.
As I wondered the streets of Santiago waiting for the shops to open, I found a art gallery. In it was a picture of a painted black figure standing at the top of a staircase with the following text: "There are no longer social classes, rather levels of consumption." I think this is very true.
... And finally,
12. In-spi-ra-tion; Noun; 1. The process of mental stimulation to do something.
It is plastered all over my Facebook wall - many of my friends (probably you!) have written and told me that this is inspirational, that I am inspirational... Well, in that case, it's your turn. If you are true in what you say, then I expect many of you to start doing your own adventures that further inspire others...
...this journey has been incredible.
Thank you for walking this Camino with me - your coffee cups in hand and slippers on your feet, sitting on your comfy chairs! ;) Even though the distance has been physically huge, your comments, messages, texts and phone calls have meant I may have walked in the company of my own shadow, but with many of you close to me... I cannot express in words alone how many of you have helped me to get up each of the 32 mornings and walk.
Can't wait to be home and to talk and hug and maybe have a small cry with my friends, my family, and one very special, well-missed little girl.
I will leave you with this thought I found. Camino is like life. It is just one step at a time...
"Watch your way then, as a cautious traveler and don't be gazing at that mountain or river in the distance and saying, "How shall I ever get over them?" but keep to the present little inch that is before you and accomplish that in the little moment that belongs to it. The mountain and the river can only be passed in the same way and when you come to them you will come to the light and strength that belong to them."
Muchos gracias y adios xxx
I had failed on getting my pedicure or massage. Failed on doing the pilgrim ritual in the Cathedral including hugging a beautiful statue of St James and just felt rotten.
My plan was to go to Finisterre the next day. That day, I received an email from Gigi, my french Canadian friend. Her and her Canadian friend, Bev, had ended up separating and she was arriving in Santiago the next day. She asked if she could come to Finisterre with me. Well of course I was fine with this, the company would be amazing, but I didn't want her to miss out on her pilgrim mass or receiving her compestela, or just 'enjoying' Santiago. She insisted this was fine and said that she would arrive around 1130am. The bus for Finisterre left at 1pm, and I needed to check out by 12pm. It was going to be close, but why the heck not!
By the evening, I was still tired, but feeling hungry having not eaten all day. I had found an Indian restaurant over the road - 'Punjabi'. It was a cute place run by a husband and wife who both spoke english. They both knew of Tasmania (the cricket, of course!) and shared my disbelief at how the spanish don't like or serve spicy food! Indian may not have been the best 'first food of the day on a weak stomach' choice, but it smelt so good! I watched Moulin Rouge in spanish - not half as bad as Doctor Dolittle! I slept for 13hours that night and the next day, I woke feeling better! - yeah, even I was surprised at this!
I left the hotel around 8am wanting to get some shopping done, visit the Cathedral, potentially squeeze in a massage and do all the things I had wanted to, but hadn't be able to. But nope. Spain doesn't open until 10am! So I walked around in the rain for a few hours, taking it all in, working on some patience that the Camino had obviously not yet taught me.
10am rolled around, everything was opening. I ran around quickly, buying some clothes for Holland - jeans and a top! Bought some Pjs - never needed any on Camino - may need some in Holland! And wanted to buy some souvenirs... This really disappointed me. The shops are all the same. I guess I should have realised that Santiago would be commercialised like this. I couldn't find anything special, however, I was feeling rushed needing to meet Gigi.
At 11am I went to the Cathedral square. I figured she would be there sooner. She was a fast walker and when you are on your last day, you find a pace you never thought you had!
The square was crowded, but there she was. I screamed (yep, loud, high pitched, girl type) out her name! We hugged like old friends. We were old friends. We relished in our moment for a minute, but then it was time to get moving so we could make it to Finisterre!
She had already been to get her certificate, so we were on our way. We got back to my hotel and received our instructions on which bus to take where. It would take 2 busses - one to the main station, then one for a 3 hour journey.
It was strange sitting on something that moved you. This was the first form of transport I had been on apart from my own legs for a month now. It felt odd, but good, but weird - like 'cheating' or something! After all, it would have only taken us 2 hours to walk to the main station, then 3 days to walk to Finisterre!
We left for our first bus, number 5 at 1210pm - cutting it a little fine. We found the little bus stop, then straight away, bus number 5 rolled up! Bingo! We boarded that and it took us to the main station. First leg, success! We found the ticket counter at the main station and purchased the tickets, €22 each. Purchased at 1250pm, tick! Our bus turned up at 1pm and we boarded! We were away... Off to the edge of the world! Off to see the ocean. I hadn't seen the ocean for 35 days. I did miss it. During the camino, I would look out and see off in the distant horizon, a dark line. My instant thought was, 'Oh, that's the ocean!', but then needed to correct myself with my geography! Now I will get to smell the salt air!
Within 2 hours, the bus was passing beautiful little seaside villages, that seemed to flow down the steep mountain sides and spill onto the sand. This is how I had always imagined Spain.
Finisterre came into view. It was a little larger than the others, and beautiful. Gigi and I jumped out of the bus, full of excitement! First stop was coffee and food.
Gigi and I had learned along the Camino that there are 3 things a pilgrim must do in Finisterre. 1. Watch the sunset, 2. Have a photo with the 0.0km sign, 3. Burn something. The lighthouse was the point of the sign and where we would see the sunset. I had heard that there was accommodation there, but I didn't know how much it would be - figured it would be a little more than the humble pilgrim was used to! ... But... for some reason, somehow, Gigi and I had managed to already ease our pilgrim conscience, saying that it was the end of the camino, so a splash out wouldn't hurt!
We went to find a cafe with wifi so I could check this lighthouse out! Turns out there are only 6 rooms and they were all booked out. The kind man at the cafe told us this when I gave up looking on the Internet and asked him to call. He came over and recommended a hotel, saying he would reserve for us, then drive us there! Wow! This was great - almost too great, but we went along with it! We finished our meals, took a walk, and then, as promised, the cafe owner drove us there.
It was beautiful. An old homestead situated 200m from the beach. It was clean and homely.
We checked in then made our way to the water... This would be a cool fresh final end of walking with purpose. The wind was harsh and the waves were fierce, and the sun glared, reflecting off the water. Together we walked into the water, arms around each other. The sand felt harsh on my feet. They are now harder in some places due to the blisters, but overall they are softer than when I begun due to all the moisturizing and massaging I have been giving them! We got to the water... It felt...well... FREEZING! But amazing too.
We spent some time here. Our plan, initially, was to relax here tonight, then walk to the lighthouse tomorrow as it was 3km away. We stood there in silence on the beach... right... so what now? It was 730pm. I turned to Gigi, "It's only 730pm, we still have another 2 1/2 hours of light! How would you feel about walking to the light house?". Gigi smiled, "Ah, why not!" Yep, mostly only pilgrims decide that walking 6km at 730pm at night 'just cause' is a good idea!
We walked, reminiscing about the past month. It was relaxing and good to walk. I had been walking around the city for the past few days, but not this sort of walking. I wasn't sure what sort of sunset we would get as the weather had been switching between intense sun and complete cloud cover with rain all day. But we had nothing to lose, chancing a break in the cloud when the sun hit the horizon.
We passed the 0.0km sign. Photo taken - tick!
We sat in a restaurant and waited for our second item on the list of 'Things to do in Finisterre', to see the sunset. I kept running outside and taking photos of the ever changing scene. The ocean looked like a silvery blue crushed velvet rug and my eyes became lost trying to look for it's end point. The lighthouse was situated out on a narrow point, giving me the impression I was fully surrounded by it. The sun reflected a golden light off it's crinkled surface and scattered rays throughout the thick clouds. It was incredible to watch. Finally, the sun disappeared behind a thick wall of cloud which sat on the horizon, blocking the final 'setting' part. It was 945pm at this point, so time to leave before it got too dark. We had seen the best bit of the sunset and I was happy with this! Sunset - tick!
We walked back to our hotel and settled into a very satisfied sleep. The next day we woke, as most pilgrims do, around 6am. Breakfast wasn't going to be served until 9am, so it was off to the beach again. The water had not yet let go of yesterday's fury, but the blue cloudless sky promised sun and perhaps some warmth.
After the beach and breakfast, we decided that Finisterre was done. The burning of an item of clothes would have to be left off the list. This was not important anyway. I have limited clothing and had struggled all camino thinking of which piece I should burn. I could not make economical or finacial sense of it - these things all cost me a fortune!
The clouds had rolled in once more. We boarded the bus just as it started to rain.
Back in Santiago, the streets were their usual shiny wet selves. We arrived at the train station around 2pm. There was a restaurant here, and it looked as good as any for lunch. It was here that I tried my first hamburger in so long. And it was incredible! The taste, the grease, the chips that I piled in it! Oh my. Amazing! Yes, I am easily pleased!
We got a taxi back to the hotel I had stayed at previously and re-booked it again for our mornings journey to the airport.
Gigi and I, once more ventured in to the city. We were going to the Cathedral to hug the statue of St James and to view his crypt, 2 things I had really wanted to do. Gigi also had some shopping to complete.
First we went to the Cathedral. There were not many people inside, so this made the line-ups short and the time you got to spend there less rushed. The first port of call was the statue. The statue of St James stood behind the central alter of the cathedral overlooking the main centre isle. I stood behind him, I placed my hands on his cold, golden, jewel embossed cloak. There I stood, giving thanks for the many things that I had experienced on my journey -health (a stomach bug was not much compared to some), the friends I had met, for safety and protection and for the subtle lessons I had learned.
I stepped down, my feet slipping into the well worn grooves on the steps many have walked on before me. I turned the corner and walked down some more steps into a dark room which sat below the central naive of the Cathedral. Here, at the end of a small dimly lit tunnel, sat a white box lined with intricate silver patterns. It looked out of place in its dark stone tunnel, but regal nonetheless. Here lay the remnants of St James. I felt humbled being here. I thought of all the pilgrims that had walked my journey, but having to battle disease, thieves, and poor conditions with little food or shelter, but drawn by faith alone to honor the Saint. This sort of faith is one that no pilgrim I met seemed to have and nor did I. I came for selfish reasons - knowing that the impact the Camino would have on me would be positive at the least, providing me a renewed appreciation and perspective on life. This experience inside the Cathedral meant a lot to me. It was the full stop on my Camino.
Walking out of the Cathedral, I heard a familiar voice. It was Richard, my pole angle! The man who had given his walking pole to me when I had mine stolen. I hugged him, and told him that I had given it back to the Camino. He was happy with this outcome.
Gigi and I enjoyed a dinner at a table with table cloth and a good wine.
As we made our way back to the hostel, we met up with Michael, the Irishman with the cat. He had walked the entire Camino based on the generosity of other pilgrims... makes for a pretty amazing journey.
This was my last evening in Santiago. I was ready to go. I am ready to see my friends, my family and get back to the world again - with the little changes that have been made within and the space that has been created. It's now time to plan so that I can ensure this space is put to good use on my return.
Walking 800km over 33 days in a foreign country without anything much familiar around you sure teaches you about yourself. A few lessons and truths for me from my Camino....
1. The race comes from the same place as the peace.
To begin with, I would walk at my maximum speed. This was a combination of wanting to get to my destination early enough to ensure a bed, but also, undeniably, a competitive streak coming out. I was getting frustrated when people passed me, feeling annoyed at my body when it could not keep up with my mind, and feeling jealous of the slow walkers because they seemed to be 'enjoying' themselves even though others were over taking them! I remember one lady I met in my first couple of weeks while walking to Puenta la Reina. She wandered from one side of the path to the other, touching the flowers, placing her hands on the bark of the olive trees, running her fingers through the wheat along the side of the road. I watched her and couldn't understand how, at just 5km from the destination town, could she be so 'chilled'. But she was. The thing is, the only person in my race was me. And I lost every time. This time the woman took to walk was a choice she made. This force to rush was just residue of my life back home, something I no longer needed. It was habit. I then started breathing between my footsteps, listening to the rhythm of my feet, smelling the air (not the little farm towns!) and taking a moment on the steep sections to stop and look around. This did not come natural, nor did it become habit, but it was a choice I made, and it felt good.
2. My mind has it's place.
Although I found that my mind was able to help me by wondering off on different journeys to distract me from the present pain, I also found that the mind could some days be my worst enemy. I am sure that people who suffer mental illness will testify to this!
The thing is, I discovered that my mind, although extremely influential over me, is not the control centre. When my mind was telling me that I couldn't keep going, that I was tired, that I didn't sleep well the night before and that the pain I felt in my leg and in my blisters was simply unbearable, I could hush this voice and just keep walking. My strength wasn't in my mind, it was within me. It's hard to explain, but I think our minds are given far too much credit for a force that can trick us, turn against us and follow processes that can be detrimental to us. Our mind is secondary. We, ourselves are a much greater force, with much more control than most of us think. We control the choice of our attitudes, and our minds control the attitude we choose.
I experienced the difficult and long process of taming my mind during my 10 day vipassana mediation course last year. I couldn't believe how 'wild' our minds are. They exist freely, roaming where ever, whenever they like, during sleep and throughout our waking moments. To train my mind to focus, to settle, to concentrate and even at times to shut off is something that I dont do enough of. Feeling the strength of my mind over my body during the walk made me realise just how much I should be meditating more.
3. So be it.
We are at the place we are meant to be at the time we are there. This was hard to reconcile with when the rain came bucketing down as I was walking, but it is true. Just enjoy where you are, and if you are not enjoying it, change it, or if you cant change it, know that change is inevitable anyway. Smiling while the mud clung to my boots and my feet slid out from beneath me was so exhilarating! 'Complaining' and getting annoyed seems to be a default reaction. But oh, to let that go and know that we are where we are meant to be is the only way to live! Enjoy what you have, where you are, right in this moment!
4. Pain is temporary.
The Camino taught me a lot about pain tolerance. That there are pains that can be ignored, cant be ignored and shouldn't be ignored. At the end of the day, I simply needed to accept that the pain is temporary and walk on.
5. Act first and foremost with love.
This is hard! And its not limited to how we act with others, but, arguably of more importance, how we deal with ourselves too.
Compassion, love and empathy are too often a secondary reaction with judgement being the first. Assume nothing, act in love.
My lovely papa gave me the New Testament for my 'spiritual first aid'. The day that I had lost Sylvia, I picked it up and found this verse:
"Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong. Do everything in love." 1 Corinthians 16 v 3... This verse became my personal challenge for the rest of the journey and I shared it with many.
Love is a theme on the Camino. The very sign of the Camino is a shell. It represents a lot and the meaning if it and its connection with Santiago is still not clear. One belief is that the shell is like that of an open hand to receive when facing up and giving when facing down. This is Camino. Receiving and giving in love with generosity, selflessness and of greatest value, time.
6. I will always lose my breath.
I remember one morning, leaving my small town and embarking on an uphill climb on my way to the '100km left to Santiago' sign. I started the uphill battle in my legs and lungs. I started to think, "I have walked 700km now, surely this should get easier!" But I now know that even after 800km, I still lose my breath up hills.
The difference is now that I am more resilient to the pain and the recovery is much faster. I now don't expect to ever climb a hill without panting. Even after 700km, I was still getting new blisters. No matter how similar the routines are, my body is still changing.
I think that I have had this belief that in life that after I do the same thing over again, it's going to be easier. I have heard people say "Isn't it that the older we get the easier life should be?" This is not the case. Again, we are a surrounded by impermanence. In life, my body will change, my circumstances will change. I am always going to encounter mountains that take my breath and make my muscles ache, but then, I will be stronger for the next one! I could go on to make some cliché comment about how every time I lost my breath, I knew an amazing view awaits me at the end of the struggle, but I think you get my point!
7. The open mind, the full cup.
On the Camino, some days I could simply retreat within myself and walk. Other days I would talk to pilgrims from all walks of life, nationalities, ages, cultures. Some would walk with you for a moment, others for a few hours and some would stay by your side for days. Whichever, I was able to listen to them and learn from them. On the Camino, despite our differences, our common purpose bound us at a level where open and trusting conversation took place between complete strangers. There were pilgrims that irritated me, intrigued me, drew me in and caused me to keep my distance. But all... every single one of them had something for me to learn from if I gave them the time and simply listened to their story. Some were profound stories of survival. Some where a simple want for the walk. Everyone is a teacher if as long as I am prepared to learn.
8. Patience and tolerance.
The Camino taught me that I am still learning both of these - and perhaps, patience especially, is still very much out of reach! :)
However, I want to take this opportunity to congratulate you on your patience and tolerance! I have sometimes read back on these blogs and have noticed the horrid spelling and grammatical and even formatting mistakes, errors and just complete stuff ups! I would like to blame my iPad keyboard, the fatigue of writing at the end of the day - (some days more than others) and my grade 2 teacher for not spending enough time with me on correct placement of commas!
But thank you... I know that there have been school teachers read this, family members with high standards in English and other 'anally retentive' dear friends read this and no one has said a word - your tolerance is much appreciated!
9. Me, myself and I.
One dear pilgrim friend of mine was on a journey to learn to be comfortable in his own company, sober, while on the pilgrimage - ironically enough, in this instance, most of the time I saw him, he was walking with others or came and walked with me! This whole 'learn to be ok in your own company' was a conversation that repeated a few times during the Camino. I was one of only a few who walked solo. It seemed that more often, the pilgrim's would walk with partners, friends or in a family group. I encountered a few raised eyebrows when they learned I was alone.
Comfort in solitude and peace in only the sound of your breathing is something that many avoid. I don't understand how they can not be at peace in their own company? Perhaps they are so irritating that they irritate themselves? I spoke to one gentleman about this when he confessed that he wanted always to be in the company of females. I spoke to him about learning to love his own company - then there is no 'need' for someone else, rather a 'healthier' want!
Silence truly is golden and your own company, at least I find, is sometimes the most intelligent you will find around! (joking!)
10. The holiest of holy...
I have had the pleasure of entering and admiring up close the incredible handy work of man in the ancient Cathedrals and Monasteries. They are truly breathtaking, but for me, they miss the point. They are an honor to the hand of man - to their creativity, their craftsmanship, their skill and their genius - but as for cultivating a spiritually inspiring 'air', I didn't feel it. I have always, and will continue to believe that spirituality is found where His hand crafted the mountains, the valleys, the flowers, the trees, the clouds, the skies and the oceans - here I am humbled, at peace and nearer to Him.
11. We can always do with less - and here you will find the most.
On Camino, simplification and minimalisation was one of the first lessons I learnt as I packed my bag at home. And I continued to learn as I sent home 2.7kg of 'stuff'. There is the material side of simplification, but also in the things that satisfy us.
I am part of a generation of consumers who had mostly had everything they need at their fingertips - a shower, a hot shower at that, a bed, accessible food, medical assistance at hand etc etc - these are classed as 'basic necessities'... the Camino took the 'basic' out of these necessities and added a 'to be grateful for' at the end.
As I wondered the streets of Santiago waiting for the shops to open, I found a art gallery. In it was a picture of a painted black figure standing at the top of a staircase with the following text: "There are no longer social classes, rather levels of consumption." I think this is very true.
... And finally,
12. In-spi-ra-tion; Noun; 1. The process of mental stimulation to do something.
It is plastered all over my Facebook wall - many of my friends (probably you!) have written and told me that this is inspirational, that I am inspirational... Well, in that case, it's your turn. If you are true in what you say, then I expect many of you to start doing your own adventures that further inspire others...
...this journey has been incredible.
Thank you for walking this Camino with me - your coffee cups in hand and slippers on your feet, sitting on your comfy chairs! ;) Even though the distance has been physically huge, your comments, messages, texts and phone calls have meant I may have walked in the company of my own shadow, but with many of you close to me... I cannot express in words alone how many of you have helped me to get up each of the 32 mornings and walk.
Can't wait to be home and to talk and hug and maybe have a small cry with my friends, my family, and one very special, well-missed little girl.
I will leave you with this thought I found. Camino is like life. It is just one step at a time...
"Watch your way then, as a cautious traveler and don't be gazing at that mountain or river in the distance and saying, "How shall I ever get over them?" but keep to the present little inch that is before you and accomplish that in the little moment that belongs to it. The mountain and the river can only be passed in the same way and when you come to them you will come to the light and strength that belong to them."
Muchos gracias y adios xxx
Sunday, June 10, 2012
From Amenal to Santiago, Day 35 (since leaving my home town), 16.8km
I am here. At last. A place that I always saw as being so far away - even right up to a few days ago with my head in a toilet.
The sky was overcast. For my first 10km today, there was no rain, no sun and no wind. Calm. And I was alone.
The night before, I had braved the intake of food in the form of a salad sandwich and some freshly squeezed orange juice. It was good and more importantly, it stayed. I got back to my room with high hopes of getting all packed up and showering before sleep, but even after sleeping all day, I couldn't look past my pillow as soon as I got there.
I set my alarm for 5am. I woke to the now unfamiliar disturbance to my blissful silence, in the form of a stupid iPhone alarm tone - marimba!
I paused for a moment, listening to the alarm become seemingly more frantic, considering the 'snooze' button... Wait... With a smile, and the realization that it was Santiago day, I turned off the alarm, lit the room up and turned on the Spanish radio. I have become quite accustomed to this beautiful music with lyrics that I don't understand. They are no longer important to me as they used to be - it seems that the company of instruments is enough for now.
I enjoyed my new found energy and wanted to leave as soon as I could while the adrenaline and excitement lasted! The cafe opened at 6am. I was dressed, smelling fresh and feeling hungry by the time I arrived there at 610am. I had some toast (4 slices, but who was counting!?) and my beloved orange juice and headed out. It was still quite dark. The weather was actually not to dissimilar to the the weather I had experienced on my first day when I arrived in France! I smiled at this thought. Actually, I smiled most of the way!
I felt strong. I felt confident in my body's ability to take me all the way today. My stomach was ok, my legs were keen and in my mind I was positive. Then the 5th km past. I was heading up hill. The puffing kicked in and my legs all of a sudden felt like they were carrying weights (yep, even bigger than my super impressive calves). It was mostly up then a short steep descent in to my Santiago.
I first walked past the airport. I had looked this stage in my book from the early days, never really believing I would get there - I know I sound like I may be exaggerating with my self belief, but I did seriously doubt I would making this far having walked all the way, the only mode of transport being my boots, and allowing nothing but my own back to carry my pack. So my definition of 'getting there' is arriving in the way I had set out to achieve - with no help - except maybe a little from above.
Passing the airports wire security fences didn't allow you to forget the spiritual side of the Camino. Every fence I passed had woven into it's wire, crosses shaped from twigs. It was a beautiful reminder of how many others walked this path, the same smiles on their faces, the same fear of something so familiar coming to an end - the friendships formed, for some, new love, for some, new freedom, for some, relief from an existence they resented and would now have to return to. For me, the fear of not having the time to keep walking... The mind is so clear when the body is healthy. It feels good to be like this. Just need to find a way of sustaining it back in the deep, dark winter of Tasmania!
The pilgrim path started to get busy. The multi-colored hunchbacks were appearing from out of their warm Albergues along the way. Hardly anyone spoke. The graffiti seemed to speak loud enough - some proclaiming faith, others, sheer relief.
I reached the top of my upward climb, and there in the distance, blurry through the light rain and low cloud, lay Santiago. It wasn't how I imagined it. It was industrial looking with big hotels, large advertising and fast, chaotic traffic (most traffic is fast after being on camino!). I didn't care though. It was Santiago.
"Cathedral, 4.7km" read a small sign on a power pole. Yep. Goal was in sight. This city, no matter how grey or bland looking it seemed, was merely the shell that held the 'pearl' of my Camino. The St James Cathedral. I kept walking, entering the damp streets.
"Hola, ¿habla usted español?", a friendly voice asked from my right. I awkwardly turned - turning was hard when you wear a raincoat with hood then strap yourself in tight to a back pack. The graceful neck rotation is more of a challenge than the 'whole body' rotation!
"Hola" I replied, "I speak english". Usually, this response would bring about a disappointed smile and a 'buen camino' at which point they would walk on. Nope, not this time!
"Ah, congratulations then!" the kind gentleman said in his soft Irish accent.
We walked together through the city, him telling me his camino, about the mass, then more important things like climbing Mt Kilimanjaro, Africa's highest peak, standing at 5895masl... How amazing does that sound? Don't focus on the 'kil' and 'man' part if the name, there are heaps of successful summit attempts! ;)
Then he stopped me... "There you are my girl, there's the first peek you get at your cathedral". Indeed it was. Peering over the top of an set of block apartments constructed in the 70's, stood the medieval tower, intricately decorated from its cloud covered peak, down the sides. "Did you want to walk this last bit alone? I won't be offended!", offered my irish friend.
"No," I replied. "Even if I did have any expectations for this last walk, which I didn't, I have learned to take what is given to me, which right now is you, so if it is ok, please walk with me!"
We continued to talk of the camino. He had arrived a few days ago and was on his way to his hotel. He had walked the camino once from St Jean and this time from Leon. We arrived at the gates to the main square. Then he said the magic, or not so magic words.
"Your mum would be so proud of you!"
Yep. You guessed. I stopped. Through my irritating high pitched crying voice, I asked, "Is it natural for this to happen at this point?". He held me, and apologised for using 'the' words. Tears streamed down my cheeks. It was relief that overwhelmed me, relief and happiness. I had made it. We continued walking through the grey stone arch together just as the church bells rang for 10am - not a bad walking time really!
He took my photo outside the cathedral, one on my camera and one on his - I think I appear on a few randoms cameras for simply being 'Tasmanian' - I don't get the celebrity status that comes with that!? Perhaps I should have been charging for them?
We parted and he pointed me roughly in the direction of the pilgrims office. I had been told that there would be around an hours wait in a cue to receive my 'compestela', my certificate. This menial inconvenience bothered me not in my state of euphoria! I would get there and absorb the atmosphere! ... But there was a problem - getting there. I was getting more lost than getting there! After wandering for around 1/2h, euphoria dissipating, frustration quickly taking over, hulk style, I found a couple of camino pilgrims who had arrived the day before. I pointed me back a few blocks, to the right, then the left etc. I finally found it, and was ushered straight through to my officer.
A dark head of hair greeted me. I waited a moment before making a slight 'clearing ones throat' noise. The man looked up. 'Hola! May I have your passport and credential?" he asked. I smiled so widely inside. I am not the discriminative type, but I can't help but see humor in people at times. He was a sweet man, very kind, but was so cross eyed, with the thickest bottle cap glasses on, that I felt more comfortable talking to his nose, rather than his eyes, for fear of confusing which one was actually looking at me. Oh this was a lovely moment. I am the 565th Australian to walk in to Santiago this year. I realised that my arrival date was exactly one month until my birthday. All of these little details meant something to me. He explained that the certificate was written in latin, even my name, in keeping with tradition. He informed me that 'Jessica' is Scottish. Perhaps I didn't need to walk camino to learn about myself - I just had to talk to this man and his nose! He gave my credential it's final stamp - the stamp of the St James Cathedral. And gave handed it back, along with the beautiful looking Compestela. I paid 1€ to have it rolled and stored in a tube, and with this secured in my hand, I left with a 'cat who got the mouse' type stride!
I walked out into the rain. I had booked my accommodation which was not supposed to be far away. At this point, it was around 1040am. I figured with the mass starting at 12, it would be better if I found a good seat in the cathedral and simply absorbed it all. The quiet reflection time would be good.
I began walking up the grey, shiny stone steps. I looked at my walking pole. It had been given to me by the generosity of a stranger, but it was not mine. So I left it there, on the steps, handing it back to the Camino.
I continued climbing. Inside the cathedral, pilgrims, tour groups and devout Catholics all mixed in a big clutter in front of the central naive. I found a seat and bowed my head. It was time for reflection.
After a while, I thought I would message my Dad to tell him I had safely arrived at my destination. A moment or two after sending the message, my phone started vibrating, he was calling! In my excitement, I fumbled with the damn thing and missed his call. I called him back, and pretty much straight away broke down. Hearing his familiar loving voice was like stepping into a warm, homely room after a long time of standing in the cold and rain. His was the first voice that I had heard since leaving Australia, so long ago. I then spoke to his wife, Helen and managed to position myself in front of the webcam so that they could both see me... It was so exciting. I said my farewells as the church officials were starting to move the tourists so that everyone was in place for the mass. I just sat there in my seat, the odd tear rolling down my cheek. It was surreal. I was actually awaiting my... 'my' pilgrim mass.
A small nun stood in front of a microphone and quietly spoke in Spanish. Then she started to sing, encouraging the already seated pilgrims to sing as well. I know this is cliché, but her voice truly was angelic. Like smooth whipped butter lightly and gently flowing through the cathedral (the non-dairy type of course!). It was beautiful. Then a priest stood and in a husky voice read out the list of pilgrims who were in attendance by mentioning their starting place and their nationality. I heard St Jean Pied de Port and then 'Australiana'... That was me! I smiled. Yep. Made it!
They did not use the giant incense burner, the 'Botafumeiro'...this weighs around 160kg and is the heaviest in the world. It was originally used to fumigate the often disease ridden and smelly pilgrims. Apparently we didnt smell enough and it didn't matter to me - nothing really mattered!
After the mass was over, I looked around for some family faces. It was then that I met up with a Dutch group I had met earlier on my Camino. A mother and son walking on their 60th and 40th birthday years, and a few other dutchies they had picked up along the way. I am not being biased at all when I say that the Dutch are a lovely people. I have had them to compare with many nationalities, and they are just so friendly and open. We all hugged and kissed and decided that a coffee was in order. Over coffee, it was decided that we would all meet at 530pm to watch Holland vs Denmark playing soccer, then get some dinner. After this appointment was made, I needed to go. I had a date with my hotel room and then in front of a webcam.
I started walking in the general direction, but decided it was safer to ask where my place was. After all, all the advertising said is was around the cathedral square. It wasn't. I asked 3 people of my journey. By 150pm, I knew I would miss my dance. I was so disappointment. I was saturated, tired of carrying my pack and just wanted to meet this commitment. But I couldn't.
Finally, with the help of a comic book store owner, he told me that my hotel was in the street parallel to his. Yay! I continued walking. In very small letters, I read the name. There were some glass doors. I entered them. But no reception. There were letter boxes, an elevator, closed doors and some stairs. 'Perhaps the reception is on the 1st floor', I thought to myself. I climbed the first set of stairs...nothing. I climbing the second set, nothing, and the third set, just to confirm that there was nothing. I walked back down. Now I was really frustrated! Who would design a hotel with no reception and no directions on how to get there. And how had I made my way through Spain and the most lost I had been was in a damn hotel! I then looked at the letterboxes. 'Hotel' was written on the box for floor 6. Yep, this was the only indication that a hotel existed. I made my way there, got my key, found my room, dumped my pack and sat.
What a journey it had been. How is it that 33 days have passed on Camino? It seems so much shorter than that. If you told me I had been walking for 14 days, that seems feasible, but not 33... That's ridiculous! Ridiculous, but true.
There are other things I want to write, but will leave it hear for now. There will be more blogs. I am off to Finisterre tomorrow - the edge of the world! Can't wait! I will have to write about that! Santiago and Finisterre both had rain forecast for the next 3 days... I guess I am getting acclimatized for Tasmania now!
I guess I have just ones more point... In Santiago you get to see the bonds that have been formed on Camino - both the sweet kind and the infidelity kind. I am happy to have not been in close company with those who decided to be unfaithful on Camino. I cannot judge them as this is their own personal experience. I feel that my journey was untainted by all things really - drugs, excessive alcohol, fraternising... I think this made for a more serious Camino for me, which I guess is what I always wanted/expected it to be. ... And there's always the upcoming days in Amsterdam for all that! Haha! (to all my motherly figures out there, block your eyeballs!)
Enough from me now... I have some shopping to do and a pedicure to source!
Camino completo :)
The sky was overcast. For my first 10km today, there was no rain, no sun and no wind. Calm. And I was alone.
The night before, I had braved the intake of food in the form of a salad sandwich and some freshly squeezed orange juice. It was good and more importantly, it stayed. I got back to my room with high hopes of getting all packed up and showering before sleep, but even after sleeping all day, I couldn't look past my pillow as soon as I got there.
I set my alarm for 5am. I woke to the now unfamiliar disturbance to my blissful silence, in the form of a stupid iPhone alarm tone - marimba!
I paused for a moment, listening to the alarm become seemingly more frantic, considering the 'snooze' button... Wait... With a smile, and the realization that it was Santiago day, I turned off the alarm, lit the room up and turned on the Spanish radio. I have become quite accustomed to this beautiful music with lyrics that I don't understand. They are no longer important to me as they used to be - it seems that the company of instruments is enough for now.
I enjoyed my new found energy and wanted to leave as soon as I could while the adrenaline and excitement lasted! The cafe opened at 6am. I was dressed, smelling fresh and feeling hungry by the time I arrived there at 610am. I had some toast (4 slices, but who was counting!?) and my beloved orange juice and headed out. It was still quite dark. The weather was actually not to dissimilar to the the weather I had experienced on my first day when I arrived in France! I smiled at this thought. Actually, I smiled most of the way!
I felt strong. I felt confident in my body's ability to take me all the way today. My stomach was ok, my legs were keen and in my mind I was positive. Then the 5th km past. I was heading up hill. The puffing kicked in and my legs all of a sudden felt like they were carrying weights (yep, even bigger than my super impressive calves). It was mostly up then a short steep descent in to my Santiago.
I first walked past the airport. I had looked this stage in my book from the early days, never really believing I would get there - I know I sound like I may be exaggerating with my self belief, but I did seriously doubt I would making this far having walked all the way, the only mode of transport being my boots, and allowing nothing but my own back to carry my pack. So my definition of 'getting there' is arriving in the way I had set out to achieve - with no help - except maybe a little from above.
Passing the airports wire security fences didn't allow you to forget the spiritual side of the Camino. Every fence I passed had woven into it's wire, crosses shaped from twigs. It was a beautiful reminder of how many others walked this path, the same smiles on their faces, the same fear of something so familiar coming to an end - the friendships formed, for some, new love, for some, new freedom, for some, relief from an existence they resented and would now have to return to. For me, the fear of not having the time to keep walking... The mind is so clear when the body is healthy. It feels good to be like this. Just need to find a way of sustaining it back in the deep, dark winter of Tasmania!
The pilgrim path started to get busy. The multi-colored hunchbacks were appearing from out of their warm Albergues along the way. Hardly anyone spoke. The graffiti seemed to speak loud enough - some proclaiming faith, others, sheer relief.
I reached the top of my upward climb, and there in the distance, blurry through the light rain and low cloud, lay Santiago. It wasn't how I imagined it. It was industrial looking with big hotels, large advertising and fast, chaotic traffic (most traffic is fast after being on camino!). I didn't care though. It was Santiago.
"Cathedral, 4.7km" read a small sign on a power pole. Yep. Goal was in sight. This city, no matter how grey or bland looking it seemed, was merely the shell that held the 'pearl' of my Camino. The St James Cathedral. I kept walking, entering the damp streets.
"Hola, ¿habla usted español?", a friendly voice asked from my right. I awkwardly turned - turning was hard when you wear a raincoat with hood then strap yourself in tight to a back pack. The graceful neck rotation is more of a challenge than the 'whole body' rotation!
"Hola" I replied, "I speak english". Usually, this response would bring about a disappointed smile and a 'buen camino' at which point they would walk on. Nope, not this time!
"Ah, congratulations then!" the kind gentleman said in his soft Irish accent.
We walked together through the city, him telling me his camino, about the mass, then more important things like climbing Mt Kilimanjaro, Africa's highest peak, standing at 5895masl... How amazing does that sound? Don't focus on the 'kil' and 'man' part if the name, there are heaps of successful summit attempts! ;)
Then he stopped me... "There you are my girl, there's the first peek you get at your cathedral". Indeed it was. Peering over the top of an set of block apartments constructed in the 70's, stood the medieval tower, intricately decorated from its cloud covered peak, down the sides. "Did you want to walk this last bit alone? I won't be offended!", offered my irish friend.
"No," I replied. "Even if I did have any expectations for this last walk, which I didn't, I have learned to take what is given to me, which right now is you, so if it is ok, please walk with me!"
We continued to talk of the camino. He had arrived a few days ago and was on his way to his hotel. He had walked the camino once from St Jean and this time from Leon. We arrived at the gates to the main square. Then he said the magic, or not so magic words.
"Your mum would be so proud of you!"
Yep. You guessed. I stopped. Through my irritating high pitched crying voice, I asked, "Is it natural for this to happen at this point?". He held me, and apologised for using 'the' words. Tears streamed down my cheeks. It was relief that overwhelmed me, relief and happiness. I had made it. We continued walking through the grey stone arch together just as the church bells rang for 10am - not a bad walking time really!
He took my photo outside the cathedral, one on my camera and one on his - I think I appear on a few randoms cameras for simply being 'Tasmanian' - I don't get the celebrity status that comes with that!? Perhaps I should have been charging for them?
We parted and he pointed me roughly in the direction of the pilgrims office. I had been told that there would be around an hours wait in a cue to receive my 'compestela', my certificate. This menial inconvenience bothered me not in my state of euphoria! I would get there and absorb the atmosphere! ... But there was a problem - getting there. I was getting more lost than getting there! After wandering for around 1/2h, euphoria dissipating, frustration quickly taking over, hulk style, I found a couple of camino pilgrims who had arrived the day before. I pointed me back a few blocks, to the right, then the left etc. I finally found it, and was ushered straight through to my officer.
A dark head of hair greeted me. I waited a moment before making a slight 'clearing ones throat' noise. The man looked up. 'Hola! May I have your passport and credential?" he asked. I smiled so widely inside. I am not the discriminative type, but I can't help but see humor in people at times. He was a sweet man, very kind, but was so cross eyed, with the thickest bottle cap glasses on, that I felt more comfortable talking to his nose, rather than his eyes, for fear of confusing which one was actually looking at me. Oh this was a lovely moment. I am the 565th Australian to walk in to Santiago this year. I realised that my arrival date was exactly one month until my birthday. All of these little details meant something to me. He explained that the certificate was written in latin, even my name, in keeping with tradition. He informed me that 'Jessica' is Scottish. Perhaps I didn't need to walk camino to learn about myself - I just had to talk to this man and his nose! He gave my credential it's final stamp - the stamp of the St James Cathedral. And gave handed it back, along with the beautiful looking Compestela. I paid 1€ to have it rolled and stored in a tube, and with this secured in my hand, I left with a 'cat who got the mouse' type stride!
I walked out into the rain. I had booked my accommodation which was not supposed to be far away. At this point, it was around 1040am. I figured with the mass starting at 12, it would be better if I found a good seat in the cathedral and simply absorbed it all. The quiet reflection time would be good.
I began walking up the grey, shiny stone steps. I looked at my walking pole. It had been given to me by the generosity of a stranger, but it was not mine. So I left it there, on the steps, handing it back to the Camino.
I continued climbing. Inside the cathedral, pilgrims, tour groups and devout Catholics all mixed in a big clutter in front of the central naive. I found a seat and bowed my head. It was time for reflection.
After a while, I thought I would message my Dad to tell him I had safely arrived at my destination. A moment or two after sending the message, my phone started vibrating, he was calling! In my excitement, I fumbled with the damn thing and missed his call. I called him back, and pretty much straight away broke down. Hearing his familiar loving voice was like stepping into a warm, homely room after a long time of standing in the cold and rain. His was the first voice that I had heard since leaving Australia, so long ago. I then spoke to his wife, Helen and managed to position myself in front of the webcam so that they could both see me... It was so exciting. I said my farewells as the church officials were starting to move the tourists so that everyone was in place for the mass. I just sat there in my seat, the odd tear rolling down my cheek. It was surreal. I was actually awaiting my... 'my' pilgrim mass.
A small nun stood in front of a microphone and quietly spoke in Spanish. Then she started to sing, encouraging the already seated pilgrims to sing as well. I know this is cliché, but her voice truly was angelic. Like smooth whipped butter lightly and gently flowing through the cathedral (the non-dairy type of course!). It was beautiful. Then a priest stood and in a husky voice read out the list of pilgrims who were in attendance by mentioning their starting place and their nationality. I heard St Jean Pied de Port and then 'Australiana'... That was me! I smiled. Yep. Made it!
They did not use the giant incense burner, the 'Botafumeiro'...this weighs around 160kg and is the heaviest in the world. It was originally used to fumigate the often disease ridden and smelly pilgrims. Apparently we didnt smell enough and it didn't matter to me - nothing really mattered!
After the mass was over, I looked around for some family faces. It was then that I met up with a Dutch group I had met earlier on my Camino. A mother and son walking on their 60th and 40th birthday years, and a few other dutchies they had picked up along the way. I am not being biased at all when I say that the Dutch are a lovely people. I have had them to compare with many nationalities, and they are just so friendly and open. We all hugged and kissed and decided that a coffee was in order. Over coffee, it was decided that we would all meet at 530pm to watch Holland vs Denmark playing soccer, then get some dinner. After this appointment was made, I needed to go. I had a date with my hotel room and then in front of a webcam.
I started walking in the general direction, but decided it was safer to ask where my place was. After all, all the advertising said is was around the cathedral square. It wasn't. I asked 3 people of my journey. By 150pm, I knew I would miss my dance. I was so disappointment. I was saturated, tired of carrying my pack and just wanted to meet this commitment. But I couldn't.
Finally, with the help of a comic book store owner, he told me that my hotel was in the street parallel to his. Yay! I continued walking. In very small letters, I read the name. There were some glass doors. I entered them. But no reception. There were letter boxes, an elevator, closed doors and some stairs. 'Perhaps the reception is on the 1st floor', I thought to myself. I climbed the first set of stairs...nothing. I climbing the second set, nothing, and the third set, just to confirm that there was nothing. I walked back down. Now I was really frustrated! Who would design a hotel with no reception and no directions on how to get there. And how had I made my way through Spain and the most lost I had been was in a damn hotel! I then looked at the letterboxes. 'Hotel' was written on the box for floor 6. Yep, this was the only indication that a hotel existed. I made my way there, got my key, found my room, dumped my pack and sat.
What a journey it had been. How is it that 33 days have passed on Camino? It seems so much shorter than that. If you told me I had been walking for 14 days, that seems feasible, but not 33... That's ridiculous! Ridiculous, but true.
There are other things I want to write, but will leave it hear for now. There will be more blogs. I am off to Finisterre tomorrow - the edge of the world! Can't wait! I will have to write about that! Santiago and Finisterre both had rain forecast for the next 3 days... I guess I am getting acclimatized for Tasmania now!
I guess I have just ones more point... In Santiago you get to see the bonds that have been formed on Camino - both the sweet kind and the infidelity kind. I am happy to have not been in close company with those who decided to be unfaithful on Camino. I cannot judge them as this is their own personal experience. I feel that my journey was untainted by all things really - drugs, excessive alcohol, fraternising... I think this made for a more serious Camino for me, which I guess is what I always wanted/expected it to be. ... And there's always the upcoming days in Amsterdam for all that! Haha! (to all my motherly figures out there, block your eyeballs!)
Enough from me now... I have some shopping to do and a pedicure to source!
Camino completo :)
Saturday, June 9, 2012
From Castañeda to Amenal, Day 33, 25km and Day 34, 3.6km -hmmmmmm
So I am two days behind on my blog - that's tragic really considering this is when all the exciting stuff happens - like so exciting that I decided to vomit up my stomach lining! - but more on that later :)
I woke on Thursday morning feeling tired. My body took a while to kick into gear. I had spent 2 hours on the internet the night before between 12 and 2am as I was strangely wide awake. I put my lethargy down to that.
The night before was wonderful. I shared a room with a 2 Germans, and a French. One of the German's, Andrea, was lovely and spoke great english. She had had a stroke (she looked no older than 35) and was told she would never walk, talk or live independently again. Now she is on Camino. She had to relearn everything and even now has to think about every step she takes, but wow, what a story. We were served the most amazing food too! Outside the rain was setting in. We all prayed that it was disappear by the next day.
Not so. Thursday morning we woke to the sound of the steady rain. I water-proofed everything in my bag, then left... Head down ready for a tough one. The sun appeared every now and then, but for the most part, it was one hell of a wet day. The pilgrims all looked like versions of the hunchback of Notre Dame in their ponchos covering their packs of a variety of colors. The path was crowded too. So many school kids and groups of adults who were on the track without packs (getting them sent on), talking and playing loudly and I guess lacking that sense of respect for the other pilgrims. A group of noisy 12 year olds ran past me at one stage, forcing me off the track. I guess these last 100km are rather popular, and I probably sound like a tainted, old pilgrim, but for some pilgrims, these last 100km were serious.
I arrived, rather saturated, at around 1pm at my Albergue to a signed door that read: 'Completo'. 1pm wasn't a bad time either. Usually this sign would appear after 3pm or so. I was angry at the new pilgrims. They could run, with their fresh legs, healthy feet, their pack-less weight and take the available accommodation. It didnt seem fair. I had considered walking further today. Stopping where I did, meant that I would still have 20km to walk to Santiago the next day. If I did this, it was possible that I would miss my pilgrim mass. You see, when a pilgrim arrives in Santiago, they go to the pilgrims office, get their 'compestella' or certificate, then go to the mass when it is read by the priest that '1Australian from St Jean Pied de Port to Santiago'. This was important to me. However, being a day earlier than I had expected meant that I could get their Friday and do this on the Saturday.
I was feeling tired and the 'completo' sign had arisen a sense or urgency to find accommodation in this town, knowing that accommodation between here and Santiago was limited and mostly more expensive hotels to capture the tourists. I wandered around, feeling more exhausted by the moment. I just didnt feel right. I had eaten a piece of cake and had a coffee for breakfast - the cake had a gritty base, and it was the first time I hadn't eaten all of it. I had stopped later on the track, craving some sugar and ate some lollies, then had a muesli bar. This was my day's intake.
I eventually found an Albergue and was lucky enough to find a bottom bunk. My usually routine would be: set up my bed (at least with a sleeping bag on it so no one else would take it!), get the shower things ready and hang out the wet things, then shower. But I just laid there. I had met a girl along the way who had been vomiting the night before and didn't take my chances, moving on pretty fast to talk to the next person. I felt sorry for her, but the more dominant feeling was relief that I didn't have to deal with that! Then opposite me at the Albergue was an unwell girl who had developed a serious throat infection. I thought it best that I get out of the room, so I went and showered. I just didn't feel right though. I got back to my room, and laid there. I watched the sick girl, all of sudden feeling a sense of empathy. Then it happened... The rush. The 'get something to stick your head it now, 'cause this ain't going to be pretty' type rush. I ran to the toilet. I ran there 4 times in the hour. The reception to my 'unusual noises' in the toilet could be broken into 2 groups. The motherly type who would ask if I was ok - to which I would reply 'yes' - what else was I going to say? Then those who would finish their business within seconds, flush and leave. I preferred these type better. After my marathon hour, I laid on my bed exhausted. Then came the noise. The woman beside me had started heaving - but not all civilized like in the toilet, nope, in the room, shared with 18 other pilgrims. I didn't care. But she sure cleared the room!
No one really in the room knew that it was me providing the 'murder scene' sound track in the toilet. No one had stuck around long enough to see me come out. I knew I needed one thing - water. Not water from the tap, mineral water from a bottle. This meant I had to make an epic journey down 2 flights of stairs, and work out the stupid vending machine. I couldn't do it. In the bunk bed above me, I had a Chinese man, who gave me sympathetic looks each time I got back from the toilet. He was my target. I stood up, I gave my tummy a rub and shook my head... 'agua?' I asked. I handed him a €5 note. He got to it straight away, but not the vending machine, he walked a few blocks to the supermarket and bought me a 1.5ltr bottle. Human kindness. So lovely. He went to hand me the change. I refused. He took my hand, turned it, and forced the change into it, giving me a smile. Grateful, I laid back on the bed. I knew I had to drink - but I knew where it was going to end up, "But it will flush your system out", said the parental figure in my head. I forced a few mouthfuls, and as predicted it did not stay. But I continued this over and over again. Around 930pm I made yet another run to the toilet. The same "are you ok?" in broken english came from the cubical next door. "yes" I replied in a croaky 'not fine' voice. As it had happened everytime, the flush occured quickly, the toilet door closed, leaving me alone in the room to gather some dignity to walk back out. Someone walked back in to the toilets. "Open the door", came the voice from a few moments ago. With sweat pouring off me, still catching my breath, I opened the door. There, a Chinese girl, from the same group of Chinese that the man was from, stood, holding four small pink pills and a bottle of her water. "Don't smell, just take," she instructed. I was too weak to care arguing, so I did as instructed. I felt instant relief. I laid back on my bed. The Chinese group of around 3 men and 2 women crowded around me. They felt my feet, forehead, ear lobes and got me to turn around and performed some kind of massage. I finally got some rest.
I had been listening to the woman in the bed next to mine get looked after and entertained by her husband. It was sweet, but heightened my sense of isolation. Turns out he is a German dentist. He had realized from the Chinese crew's attention to me that I had the same as his wife. He handed me 2 Imodium tablets. "Take these" he instructed, "One now and one in the morning.". I told him about the 4 pink pills and said I would give them a chance. He shook his head at my preference for 'alternative medicine'. However, at around 11pm, they too proved unsuccessful. So I popped the Imodium. Finally, a nights sleep.
I didn't know what I was going to do the next day. Whether I should walk, ask to stay in the Albergue, walk just a little? I would make up my mind when everyone else got up. Which they did - far too quickly!
I felt weak. No food, hardly enough water and my body ached. I sent a message to my sister to let her know what was happening and why no blog. Tears streamed down my face. I wanted to walk - if only for a few km's. But it was going to hurt. I slowly got myself ready, and left by 7am.
The track was a dirt one. It was slippery from the rainfall. I felt like rubbish. Each step was a damn effort. I kept thinking how close I was to Santiago, but how far away it seemed. I am not sure when they started, but there have been little track markers along the way at 500m intervals, letting the weary pilgrim know how far or how close it was to Santiago. Usually these pass with speed, but today, i took me 1 hour to just pass 4 of them. I was craving some fresh orange juice. At the first chance, I stopped at a cafe and ordered a juice and some toast. I ate it, hoping to feel some instant relief. It did not come. I felt dizzy and tired. Then I read the words 'hotel'. The cafe was adjoined to one! I asked the waitress, through tears (couldn't help them ok!) if I could stay. She asked me to wait an hour for the cleaners to finish. I think they could tell that I wasn't right and got me a room within 20mins. Here I was able to Facebook (feel some love) then sleep for around 6 hours straight. The bug was gone. Recovery now.
I remember walking with an Austrian man just a few days ago. He said that he had not booked his accommodation ahead once yet on Camino. He believed that you had to walk with some tension as a pilgrim otherwise it was like one big walking holiday. I thought about my journey - yep, definitely some tense moments! Defiantly not classed as a big walking holiday!
So, if everything goes to plan (which often on Camino, it doesn't!) then I should make it to Santiago by 10am-ish. The church dance, well, I will make that around 10pm your time - 2pm mine! I will dance for you all - looking like a complete tool in front of many who come to the cathedral for spiritual purposes! I may get another pilgrim to dance with me - you know, take the spot light off me! Haha!
It is overcast outside at the moment... I am going to go shower, and have some dinner in the restaurant here before the 'real' hotel guests make their way down. Then I shall sleep and then walk my final leg of the Camino.
Buenos noches amigos... Much love...
I woke on Thursday morning feeling tired. My body took a while to kick into gear. I had spent 2 hours on the internet the night before between 12 and 2am as I was strangely wide awake. I put my lethargy down to that.
The night before was wonderful. I shared a room with a 2 Germans, and a French. One of the German's, Andrea, was lovely and spoke great english. She had had a stroke (she looked no older than 35) and was told she would never walk, talk or live independently again. Now she is on Camino. She had to relearn everything and even now has to think about every step she takes, but wow, what a story. We were served the most amazing food too! Outside the rain was setting in. We all prayed that it was disappear by the next day.
Not so. Thursday morning we woke to the sound of the steady rain. I water-proofed everything in my bag, then left... Head down ready for a tough one. The sun appeared every now and then, but for the most part, it was one hell of a wet day. The pilgrims all looked like versions of the hunchback of Notre Dame in their ponchos covering their packs of a variety of colors. The path was crowded too. So many school kids and groups of adults who were on the track without packs (getting them sent on), talking and playing loudly and I guess lacking that sense of respect for the other pilgrims. A group of noisy 12 year olds ran past me at one stage, forcing me off the track. I guess these last 100km are rather popular, and I probably sound like a tainted, old pilgrim, but for some pilgrims, these last 100km were serious.
I arrived, rather saturated, at around 1pm at my Albergue to a signed door that read: 'Completo'. 1pm wasn't a bad time either. Usually this sign would appear after 3pm or so. I was angry at the new pilgrims. They could run, with their fresh legs, healthy feet, their pack-less weight and take the available accommodation. It didnt seem fair. I had considered walking further today. Stopping where I did, meant that I would still have 20km to walk to Santiago the next day. If I did this, it was possible that I would miss my pilgrim mass. You see, when a pilgrim arrives in Santiago, they go to the pilgrims office, get their 'compestella' or certificate, then go to the mass when it is read by the priest that '1Australian from St Jean Pied de Port to Santiago'. This was important to me. However, being a day earlier than I had expected meant that I could get their Friday and do this on the Saturday.
I was feeling tired and the 'completo' sign had arisen a sense or urgency to find accommodation in this town, knowing that accommodation between here and Santiago was limited and mostly more expensive hotels to capture the tourists. I wandered around, feeling more exhausted by the moment. I just didnt feel right. I had eaten a piece of cake and had a coffee for breakfast - the cake had a gritty base, and it was the first time I hadn't eaten all of it. I had stopped later on the track, craving some sugar and ate some lollies, then had a muesli bar. This was my day's intake.
I eventually found an Albergue and was lucky enough to find a bottom bunk. My usually routine would be: set up my bed (at least with a sleeping bag on it so no one else would take it!), get the shower things ready and hang out the wet things, then shower. But I just laid there. I had met a girl along the way who had been vomiting the night before and didn't take my chances, moving on pretty fast to talk to the next person. I felt sorry for her, but the more dominant feeling was relief that I didn't have to deal with that! Then opposite me at the Albergue was an unwell girl who had developed a serious throat infection. I thought it best that I get out of the room, so I went and showered. I just didn't feel right though. I got back to my room, and laid there. I watched the sick girl, all of sudden feeling a sense of empathy. Then it happened... The rush. The 'get something to stick your head it now, 'cause this ain't going to be pretty' type rush. I ran to the toilet. I ran there 4 times in the hour. The reception to my 'unusual noises' in the toilet could be broken into 2 groups. The motherly type who would ask if I was ok - to which I would reply 'yes' - what else was I going to say? Then those who would finish their business within seconds, flush and leave. I preferred these type better. After my marathon hour, I laid on my bed exhausted. Then came the noise. The woman beside me had started heaving - but not all civilized like in the toilet, nope, in the room, shared with 18 other pilgrims. I didn't care. But she sure cleared the room!
No one really in the room knew that it was me providing the 'murder scene' sound track in the toilet. No one had stuck around long enough to see me come out. I knew I needed one thing - water. Not water from the tap, mineral water from a bottle. This meant I had to make an epic journey down 2 flights of stairs, and work out the stupid vending machine. I couldn't do it. In the bunk bed above me, I had a Chinese man, who gave me sympathetic looks each time I got back from the toilet. He was my target. I stood up, I gave my tummy a rub and shook my head... 'agua?' I asked. I handed him a €5 note. He got to it straight away, but not the vending machine, he walked a few blocks to the supermarket and bought me a 1.5ltr bottle. Human kindness. So lovely. He went to hand me the change. I refused. He took my hand, turned it, and forced the change into it, giving me a smile. Grateful, I laid back on the bed. I knew I had to drink - but I knew where it was going to end up, "But it will flush your system out", said the parental figure in my head. I forced a few mouthfuls, and as predicted it did not stay. But I continued this over and over again. Around 930pm I made yet another run to the toilet. The same "are you ok?" in broken english came from the cubical next door. "yes" I replied in a croaky 'not fine' voice. As it had happened everytime, the flush occured quickly, the toilet door closed, leaving me alone in the room to gather some dignity to walk back out. Someone walked back in to the toilets. "Open the door", came the voice from a few moments ago. With sweat pouring off me, still catching my breath, I opened the door. There, a Chinese girl, from the same group of Chinese that the man was from, stood, holding four small pink pills and a bottle of her water. "Don't smell, just take," she instructed. I was too weak to care arguing, so I did as instructed. I felt instant relief. I laid back on my bed. The Chinese group of around 3 men and 2 women crowded around me. They felt my feet, forehead, ear lobes and got me to turn around and performed some kind of massage. I finally got some rest.
I had been listening to the woman in the bed next to mine get looked after and entertained by her husband. It was sweet, but heightened my sense of isolation. Turns out he is a German dentist. He had realized from the Chinese crew's attention to me that I had the same as his wife. He handed me 2 Imodium tablets. "Take these" he instructed, "One now and one in the morning.". I told him about the 4 pink pills and said I would give them a chance. He shook his head at my preference for 'alternative medicine'. However, at around 11pm, they too proved unsuccessful. So I popped the Imodium. Finally, a nights sleep.
I didn't know what I was going to do the next day. Whether I should walk, ask to stay in the Albergue, walk just a little? I would make up my mind when everyone else got up. Which they did - far too quickly!
I felt weak. No food, hardly enough water and my body ached. I sent a message to my sister to let her know what was happening and why no blog. Tears streamed down my face. I wanted to walk - if only for a few km's. But it was going to hurt. I slowly got myself ready, and left by 7am.
The track was a dirt one. It was slippery from the rainfall. I felt like rubbish. Each step was a damn effort. I kept thinking how close I was to Santiago, but how far away it seemed. I am not sure when they started, but there have been little track markers along the way at 500m intervals, letting the weary pilgrim know how far or how close it was to Santiago. Usually these pass with speed, but today, i took me 1 hour to just pass 4 of them. I was craving some fresh orange juice. At the first chance, I stopped at a cafe and ordered a juice and some toast. I ate it, hoping to feel some instant relief. It did not come. I felt dizzy and tired. Then I read the words 'hotel'. The cafe was adjoined to one! I asked the waitress, through tears (couldn't help them ok!) if I could stay. She asked me to wait an hour for the cleaners to finish. I think they could tell that I wasn't right and got me a room within 20mins. Here I was able to Facebook (feel some love) then sleep for around 6 hours straight. The bug was gone. Recovery now.
I remember walking with an Austrian man just a few days ago. He said that he had not booked his accommodation ahead once yet on Camino. He believed that you had to walk with some tension as a pilgrim otherwise it was like one big walking holiday. I thought about my journey - yep, definitely some tense moments! Defiantly not classed as a big walking holiday!
So, if everything goes to plan (which often on Camino, it doesn't!) then I should make it to Santiago by 10am-ish. The church dance, well, I will make that around 10pm your time - 2pm mine! I will dance for you all - looking like a complete tool in front of many who come to the cathedral for spiritual purposes! I may get another pilgrim to dance with me - you know, take the spot light off me! Haha!
It is overcast outside at the moment... I am going to go shower, and have some dinner in the restaurant here before the 'real' hotel guests make their way down. Then I shall sleep and then walk my final leg of the Camino.
Buenos noches amigos... Much love...
Thursday, June 7, 2012
From Castromaior to Castañeda, Day 32, 39km
Last night, I made myself at home at the small cafe in the remote village I had ended up in. This was good and bad - good that it was warm, bad that it had pastries and other nice things!
I sat and wrote the blog and watched the pilgrims pass by, head down against the rain, trudging to the next main town. My feet were itching (no, not from a bacteria!) to walk with them, but when I had arrived at the town, I was disappointed that I had missed my Albergue by walking right past it, and the threatening rain made me keen to find shelter.
I showered and got organised, but it was only 2pm. My room was small, cold and smelt of my damp woolen clothes (marino wool does too smell!). So that left me with the only other entertainment.. Me, the barmaid, and two local farmers for 3 hours with no wifi! I was bored and wasted the afternoon watching an 'old-day' Spanish version of 'Home and Away' - you know, you don't need to know what they are speaking about to work out the soppy and predictable story line.
I had eaten by 630pm, a good meal too! So headed back to my room in the light rain. I looked at the barmaid and gave her a disappointed look about the weather. In broken English, she informed me that it was going to remain for the next 3 days... Damn inclement Galacian weather!
I got back to my room and opened the guide book, trying to figure out the best way forward. There was a possibility that with an extra long day, I could email Sylvia and let her know I would be there a day early. However, I have already booked some accommodation there for Saturday and Sunday and Tuesday with Monday left for my visit to Finisterre (I heard it was a busy time in Santiago, so a few days ago I booked a hostel).
It was time to put my good health, new found 'i am so close to Santiago' energy and sore feet to the test. I studied the guide book. I figured out that the nearest and best private Albergue was around 39kms away... 39.8km to be exact. I erred about this for sometime, then picked up my phone and reserved my place. I knew that if worse came to worse, I would simply stay at the Xunta Albergue in Melide (32km away). I am trying to avoid the Xunta Albergues. They are old schools converted into basic pilgrim accommodation. They are shelter, but when there are private albergues available, I become a snob and stay in the better ones! Usually the prices are the same - but the 'atmosphere', food, facilities etc are vastly different, and much better in the privates!
I laid on my bed at 8pm and slept until 630am (quite the sleep and quite the sleep-in!). I was annoyed at myself that I had not woken earlier. I wanted to leave around 6 to get a head start on the big day. However, I was grateful for rest. I obviously needed it.
I was out by 640am on the already busy pilgrim path. I walked the first 20km by myself, passing pilgrims, stopping for a coffee, then watching them pass you! The path was a good mix of up and down today. The clouds hung low and the wind blew. It was a relief from the heavy muggy air that seemed to linger when the wind died down. I prayed that the rain would hold off on my long day, and it did.
20km on, I met some old familiar faces. A Dutchmen who had the same leg injury as me. I met him with a group of other dutchmen about 14 days ago. Then there was an older South African man, who now lives in Australia. He walks wearing a kangaroo toy attached to his cap, so is easily recognizable. And there was Ian - the Irish hairdresser. I caught up with this group and walked to Casanova with them, listening to them exchange dirty comments about Casanova and giving away a hug to the old South African man, who walks and talks with an extremely unattractive arrogance. But that's camino!
Ian and I strode off ahead. We walked together for quite some time, continuing our conversation from yesterday. It was good to walk with him. Walking with someone, speaking of life and loss etc etc speeds up time, makes the km's less and I learn. The quote for the day: "Don't look for this Spring's birds in last Springs nests"... The meanings could be many - do with it as you please :) Many cyclists passed us today and most of them surprisingly don't have bells to give you any sort of warning! They simply ride up behind you and stay there until you realize and move.
It was Ian's second day of walking, and after putting in a fair effort yesterday, he cut his day short. But me, I wanted to walk. Today was a day for walking. I needed it. I wanted to push myself physically, I wanted to sweat and feel the pain - sounds slightly masochistic! But it's so close now.
I shook hands with Ian, and continued. I started walking in some dense bush. I started getting lost in thoughts of the Tasmanian wilderness... Then, I took a deep breath... I stopped on the spot. I know that smell... I looked up... GUM TREES! I laughed out loud! It was great. This got me through the next 5km. With my remaining 3km to go, and the afternoon wearing on, I started walking in crazy pilgrim pose - a fast limp, leaning to one side with my head leading the body - all hunchback like! I cared little for how I looked - my feet were calling for the heavenly moment when they lift off the ground and my body is horizontal on a mattress.
My tendonitis is ok at the moment - but my feet are now carrying 3 blisters (severely contributing to my hunchback-like waddle). They are painful... But only 2 days to go!
My plan is to get to Santiago to meet with Sylvia on Friday. Then Saturday to register at the pilgrim's office and enjoy my pilgrim mass at the famed cathedral - my goal! Sunday to wander and absorb. Monday to bus to Finisterre, Tuesday to bus back. And Wednesday, and 930am, to fly out of Santiago to visit my Dutch family in Holland. I look forward to this a lot!
43km left on Camino and still learning, still hurting, still puffing on the hills, and still carrying my tummy from home! Haha - not much has changed really... Except that I am now used to a fine glass of Spanish vino every night.
I thought I would do some washing today. The other day I had dipped my Marino wool scarf in a coffee (don't ask!), so I threw it in the machine. All my Marino wool clothes are fine in the washing machine... Apparently not my scarf, which is now 1/8th of its original size... :(
Well, I shall finish my 'Orujo de hierbas' - its medicinal ok, then I need to do some stretching. Well, not me, my scarf!
2 days, just 2 days. By the way... There is a webcam on the cathedral of Santiago. Visit http://www.crtvg.es/crtvg/camaras-web/praza-do-obradoiro#.T8-eCGthiSN to see. Not sure if you're interested, but if so, I can give you the time I will arrive and do a dance! ... I think it's real time... Not sure! You computer techs out there may tell me it's a scam!
I sat and wrote the blog and watched the pilgrims pass by, head down against the rain, trudging to the next main town. My feet were itching (no, not from a bacteria!) to walk with them, but when I had arrived at the town, I was disappointed that I had missed my Albergue by walking right past it, and the threatening rain made me keen to find shelter.
I showered and got organised, but it was only 2pm. My room was small, cold and smelt of my damp woolen clothes (marino wool does too smell!). So that left me with the only other entertainment.. Me, the barmaid, and two local farmers for 3 hours with no wifi! I was bored and wasted the afternoon watching an 'old-day' Spanish version of 'Home and Away' - you know, you don't need to know what they are speaking about to work out the soppy and predictable story line.
I had eaten by 630pm, a good meal too! So headed back to my room in the light rain. I looked at the barmaid and gave her a disappointed look about the weather. In broken English, she informed me that it was going to remain for the next 3 days... Damn inclement Galacian weather!
I got back to my room and opened the guide book, trying to figure out the best way forward. There was a possibility that with an extra long day, I could email Sylvia and let her know I would be there a day early. However, I have already booked some accommodation there for Saturday and Sunday and Tuesday with Monday left for my visit to Finisterre (I heard it was a busy time in Santiago, so a few days ago I booked a hostel).
It was time to put my good health, new found 'i am so close to Santiago' energy and sore feet to the test. I studied the guide book. I figured out that the nearest and best private Albergue was around 39kms away... 39.8km to be exact. I erred about this for sometime, then picked up my phone and reserved my place. I knew that if worse came to worse, I would simply stay at the Xunta Albergue in Melide (32km away). I am trying to avoid the Xunta Albergues. They are old schools converted into basic pilgrim accommodation. They are shelter, but when there are private albergues available, I become a snob and stay in the better ones! Usually the prices are the same - but the 'atmosphere', food, facilities etc are vastly different, and much better in the privates!
I laid on my bed at 8pm and slept until 630am (quite the sleep and quite the sleep-in!). I was annoyed at myself that I had not woken earlier. I wanted to leave around 6 to get a head start on the big day. However, I was grateful for rest. I obviously needed it.
I was out by 640am on the already busy pilgrim path. I walked the first 20km by myself, passing pilgrims, stopping for a coffee, then watching them pass you! The path was a good mix of up and down today. The clouds hung low and the wind blew. It was a relief from the heavy muggy air that seemed to linger when the wind died down. I prayed that the rain would hold off on my long day, and it did.
20km on, I met some old familiar faces. A Dutchmen who had the same leg injury as me. I met him with a group of other dutchmen about 14 days ago. Then there was an older South African man, who now lives in Australia. He walks wearing a kangaroo toy attached to his cap, so is easily recognizable. And there was Ian - the Irish hairdresser. I caught up with this group and walked to Casanova with them, listening to them exchange dirty comments about Casanova and giving away a hug to the old South African man, who walks and talks with an extremely unattractive arrogance. But that's camino!
Ian and I strode off ahead. We walked together for quite some time, continuing our conversation from yesterday. It was good to walk with him. Walking with someone, speaking of life and loss etc etc speeds up time, makes the km's less and I learn. The quote for the day: "Don't look for this Spring's birds in last Springs nests"... The meanings could be many - do with it as you please :) Many cyclists passed us today and most of them surprisingly don't have bells to give you any sort of warning! They simply ride up behind you and stay there until you realize and move.
It was Ian's second day of walking, and after putting in a fair effort yesterday, he cut his day short. But me, I wanted to walk. Today was a day for walking. I needed it. I wanted to push myself physically, I wanted to sweat and feel the pain - sounds slightly masochistic! But it's so close now.
I shook hands with Ian, and continued. I started walking in some dense bush. I started getting lost in thoughts of the Tasmanian wilderness... Then, I took a deep breath... I stopped on the spot. I know that smell... I looked up... GUM TREES! I laughed out loud! It was great. This got me through the next 5km. With my remaining 3km to go, and the afternoon wearing on, I started walking in crazy pilgrim pose - a fast limp, leaning to one side with my head leading the body - all hunchback like! I cared little for how I looked - my feet were calling for the heavenly moment when they lift off the ground and my body is horizontal on a mattress.
My tendonitis is ok at the moment - but my feet are now carrying 3 blisters (severely contributing to my hunchback-like waddle). They are painful... But only 2 days to go!
My plan is to get to Santiago to meet with Sylvia on Friday. Then Saturday to register at the pilgrim's office and enjoy my pilgrim mass at the famed cathedral - my goal! Sunday to wander and absorb. Monday to bus to Finisterre, Tuesday to bus back. And Wednesday, and 930am, to fly out of Santiago to visit my Dutch family in Holland. I look forward to this a lot!
43km left on Camino and still learning, still hurting, still puffing on the hills, and still carrying my tummy from home! Haha - not much has changed really... Except that I am now used to a fine glass of Spanish vino every night.
I thought I would do some washing today. The other day I had dipped my Marino wool scarf in a coffee (don't ask!), so I threw it in the machine. All my Marino wool clothes are fine in the washing machine... Apparently not my scarf, which is now 1/8th of its original size... :(
Well, I shall finish my 'Orujo de hierbas' - its medicinal ok, then I need to do some stretching. Well, not me, my scarf!
2 days, just 2 days. By the way... There is a webcam on the cathedral of Santiago. Visit http://www.crtvg.es/crtvg/camaras-web/praza-do-obradoiro#.T8-eCGthiSN to see. Not sure if you're interested, but if so, I can give you the time I will arrive and do a dance! ... I think it's real time... Not sure! You computer techs out there may tell me it's a scam!
From Barbadelo to Castromaior, Day 31, 28km
I am currently sitting in a small cafe in a tiny village approximately 2km from where I have reserved a place... May have gotten a bit lost and kept walking past. The idea of having to walk back wasn't appealing especially as it was raining and I hadnt packed for the rain. I found a small 'pension' - a house that has basic rooms and a shared bathroom. This will do me for tonight.
I slept so well last night and thought that would get me through today, but still I have developed yet another blister (makes 2) and my leg is aching. I woke early, went through the same routine, draining the blisters (using sterile equipment!) then coating my feet in vaseline - a known prevention method for blisters. But not for me! Makes me feel disappointed in my body for not having yet gotten used to this yet. 4 days to Santiago. Deep breath.
Yesterday was good. Brad, my American friend and I stayed at the same Albergue. We set ourselves up for the afternoon on 2 deck chairs over looking a beautiful valley, drinking beer and eating potato chips. As I have said before, the Camino breaks down your walls and you cannot help but become the person you really are - not the person you necessarily want to be. Together Brad and I talked about our personal experiences with death and exchanged some very real details about our lives. After a rather 'light' day of walking, this depth and sharing of emotion was unexpected but also good. Brings in a sense of 'seriousness' and reality. He told me about a huge burden he carries every day. We shared our tears, truths and would every now and then exchange some homeland sayings to lighten the moments.
The dinner was beautiful. I ate ensalada mixta (mixed salad), then meatballs with chips. This the usual for the first 2 courses, however, in Galacia, I have noticed a new item on the desert menu, 'Santiago de tarte' - an almond meal- ish cake. I had watched the previous night as a pilgrim ordered it and the waiter had poured some 'Orujo' on it. This was the liqueur I had tried back in Los Argos. There are many different versions of this liqueur. The base is made from the byproduct of wine, the grape skins and flesh, then there is the 'original' flavour, a herb one (they say it's medicinal!), a coffee one etc. I ordered my santiago de tarte last night for desert, then asked the waiter if he had any 'Orujo de cafè' (the coffee flavour)... He gave me a knowing smile. My desert came out, he pierced it with a knife and poured in the liqueur..... Hmmmmmmmm great ending to a good day!
Brad and I decided that with the new pilgrims on the Camino, we would book ahead. So he is 2kms behind me in a rather nice Albergue, while I am in a cold room with no internet and a shower that at full pressure was an excuse for dribble! Well, I guess that's Camino. We are all in the place we need to be at the time.
Today's walking was pleasant, but included a few hills and therefore was tiring. The sun was mostly behind clouds, but this morning, the sun and the moon both shone equally as bright. I walked though little country towns and on dirt roads. To begin with, I loved walking through these towns, but now, the intense smell of sulphur from manure makes me feel nauseas. It burns your nostrils and if you breathe through your mouth, you taste it. There is no escaping it.
Galacia is alive. The birds, the hens, the roosters, the cows, their bells, the dogs, the crickets and overhead planes all provide a layered sound track while walking the rocky roads that snake through the grassy mountains. Each town today seemed to blend into the next.
I walked part of my journey today with Ian, an Irish hairdresser. His camino began today. Rather quickly, we have covered the essentials and had progressed into the deeper side of camino. We talked about the drugs on the track. Brad had told me that at one Albergue, when the pilgrims were asked why they were on the camino, most answered with sex or drugs. I thought this was strange as I had avoided all of this. Yesterday in fact was my first encounter with a Spanish walker so high, that he had sweat pouring from him, spoke a million words a minute, had decided to walk 100km in two days and although he seemed to be walking fast, he stayed at my pace. He was a mess. Chewing 'tres portions' of gum, looking terrible, he shook my hand and disappeared off ahead. I told Ian about this and said that why would you want to walk the Camino high and risk missing some of the beauty hear, closing yourself up to the impact that it can have on you, and putting yourself at risk of becoming lost. He then told me he was carrying some weed with him. He said "It's funny you should say that. Today is the first day in years that I haven't added weed to my cigarettes. I just didnt want to." He is on Camino to find some peace in the loss of his Dad from 7 months ago, to be cleansed from a health perspective, and to experience some solitude. I hope he finds all this. But my experience with Camino is that nothing quite works out the way you think it should. Much like life.
Many new pilgrims have now started. They are easy to tell apart. They aren't limping, they have started their day with cologne, they wear jeans and their shoes are bright and new! There are a lot of younger ones too. I guess this because Santiago is only 4 days away, it's easy to get the time off work or school. The pilgrims that walk the month are mainly retirees. There is a strong bond now forming between the St Jean pilgrims. It's almost 'us and them' with the fresh pilgrims. But ultimately, our destinations are the same and the pain they will feel is the pain I have felt.
I was thinking today that everyone has a past. Everyone has experienced pain and we each carry our own weight on our shoulders - and although this weight varies, to each individual, it is heavy. Sometimes, it becomes easy to forget this and our initial reactions towards another can be judged by our own standards. But to change this and first act with empathy and compassion is rare and beautiful.
I have around 2 1/2 hours to waste before dinner. Part of me wants to keep walking, but I am showered and have paid for my room. Thus, here is where I shall slumber.
84km left of wondering and wandering (apparently I get these confused!)...
I slept so well last night and thought that would get me through today, but still I have developed yet another blister (makes 2) and my leg is aching. I woke early, went through the same routine, draining the blisters (using sterile equipment!) then coating my feet in vaseline - a known prevention method for blisters. But not for me! Makes me feel disappointed in my body for not having yet gotten used to this yet. 4 days to Santiago. Deep breath.
Yesterday was good. Brad, my American friend and I stayed at the same Albergue. We set ourselves up for the afternoon on 2 deck chairs over looking a beautiful valley, drinking beer and eating potato chips. As I have said before, the Camino breaks down your walls and you cannot help but become the person you really are - not the person you necessarily want to be. Together Brad and I talked about our personal experiences with death and exchanged some very real details about our lives. After a rather 'light' day of walking, this depth and sharing of emotion was unexpected but also good. Brings in a sense of 'seriousness' and reality. He told me about a huge burden he carries every day. We shared our tears, truths and would every now and then exchange some homeland sayings to lighten the moments.
The dinner was beautiful. I ate ensalada mixta (mixed salad), then meatballs with chips. This the usual for the first 2 courses, however, in Galacia, I have noticed a new item on the desert menu, 'Santiago de tarte' - an almond meal- ish cake. I had watched the previous night as a pilgrim ordered it and the waiter had poured some 'Orujo' on it. This was the liqueur I had tried back in Los Argos. There are many different versions of this liqueur. The base is made from the byproduct of wine, the grape skins and flesh, then there is the 'original' flavour, a herb one (they say it's medicinal!), a coffee one etc. I ordered my santiago de tarte last night for desert, then asked the waiter if he had any 'Orujo de cafè' (the coffee flavour)... He gave me a knowing smile. My desert came out, he pierced it with a knife and poured in the liqueur..... Hmmmmmmmm great ending to a good day!
Brad and I decided that with the new pilgrims on the Camino, we would book ahead. So he is 2kms behind me in a rather nice Albergue, while I am in a cold room with no internet and a shower that at full pressure was an excuse for dribble! Well, I guess that's Camino. We are all in the place we need to be at the time.
Today's walking was pleasant, but included a few hills and therefore was tiring. The sun was mostly behind clouds, but this morning, the sun and the moon both shone equally as bright. I walked though little country towns and on dirt roads. To begin with, I loved walking through these towns, but now, the intense smell of sulphur from manure makes me feel nauseas. It burns your nostrils and if you breathe through your mouth, you taste it. There is no escaping it.
Galacia is alive. The birds, the hens, the roosters, the cows, their bells, the dogs, the crickets and overhead planes all provide a layered sound track while walking the rocky roads that snake through the grassy mountains. Each town today seemed to blend into the next.
I walked part of my journey today with Ian, an Irish hairdresser. His camino began today. Rather quickly, we have covered the essentials and had progressed into the deeper side of camino. We talked about the drugs on the track. Brad had told me that at one Albergue, when the pilgrims were asked why they were on the camino, most answered with sex or drugs. I thought this was strange as I had avoided all of this. Yesterday in fact was my first encounter with a Spanish walker so high, that he had sweat pouring from him, spoke a million words a minute, had decided to walk 100km in two days and although he seemed to be walking fast, he stayed at my pace. He was a mess. Chewing 'tres portions' of gum, looking terrible, he shook my hand and disappeared off ahead. I told Ian about this and said that why would you want to walk the Camino high and risk missing some of the beauty hear, closing yourself up to the impact that it can have on you, and putting yourself at risk of becoming lost. He then told me he was carrying some weed with him. He said "It's funny you should say that. Today is the first day in years that I haven't added weed to my cigarettes. I just didnt want to." He is on Camino to find some peace in the loss of his Dad from 7 months ago, to be cleansed from a health perspective, and to experience some solitude. I hope he finds all this. But my experience with Camino is that nothing quite works out the way you think it should. Much like life.
Many new pilgrims have now started. They are easy to tell apart. They aren't limping, they have started their day with cologne, they wear jeans and their shoes are bright and new! There are a lot of younger ones too. I guess this because Santiago is only 4 days away, it's easy to get the time off work or school. The pilgrims that walk the month are mainly retirees. There is a strong bond now forming between the St Jean pilgrims. It's almost 'us and them' with the fresh pilgrims. But ultimately, our destinations are the same and the pain they will feel is the pain I have felt.
I was thinking today that everyone has a past. Everyone has experienced pain and we each carry our own weight on our shoulders - and although this weight varies, to each individual, it is heavy. Sometimes, it becomes easy to forget this and our initial reactions towards another can be judged by our own standards. But to change this and first act with empathy and compassion is rare and beautiful.
I have around 2 1/2 hours to waste before dinner. Part of me wants to keep walking, but I am showered and have paid for my room. Thus, here is where I shall slumber.
84km left of wondering and wandering (apparently I get these confused!)...
Monday, June 4, 2012
From Triacastela to Barbadelo, Day 30, 24km
I did something yesterday that I have been fantasising about for weeks now. I went to the supermarket, bought some soy milk, ordered a 'cafe solo Americano' (a long black), then added the milk... Amazing! I sat in the little cafe and lost myself in the moment. Did I already say 'amazing'? Then... I ordered another... And still amazing! I was able to get wifi from my Albergue at the cafe which was over road, so I did some emailing, facebooking and just general nothingness. My body was tired and my mind exhausted - my mind seemed to do a lot of the work yesterday.
Back at the Albergue, before my heaven in a coffee cup moment, I had sat and blogged in the main 'living room'. Here, a Greek pilgrim who I have been running into throughout the Camino, walked past and asked me how I was. "Your smile does not seem so bright today," she exclaimed after my reply of "Good thanks". She sat down beside me and asked for detail.. In those words! "Give me some detail," she asked. So I had a bit of a vent about somethings that had been going on, and within 10 minutes, without realising it, she was venting to me about a 7 year long relationship that had failed due to his Muslim religion. 7 months after the break, he was married in an arranged marriage back in his home country. It's strange, hearing her speak about her pain and her sadness, and me having my brief vent, really lifted the clouds from my shoulders. This combined with my coffee moment, a reunion with Brad and Ashley from America over dinner made for a good afternoon.
The three of us sat on the side of a street and ate our peregrino dinner, watching other pilgrims walk past. We were looking at the sunburn, the tan lines, injury hobbles and drunk wobbles.
I got to bed at 10pm... Curfew. But there was a problem. My bed was so noisy, in fact, all the bunks in the room (5 in all) squeaked with even the most subtle movement... This is no exaggeration! I think the combination of the coffee and the noise from the bunks meant I watched every hour of the night go by on my watch.
It was ok though. I let my body rest, and my mind wonder... It was lovely and relaxing. I think that in a state of not sleeping, it is easy to become frustrated and then often, even the body gets no rest. At least remaining calm and knowing that the next day would come and go and be ok, ensured that I rose this morning with a little rest.
It was around 5am... Pilgrims were starting to rise from their deep sleep and move around. The noise from this meant that everyone woke super early. I left by 6am and was the second last pilgrim out.
I am really enjoying walking alone at the moment. Sylvia and I still stay in touch through email, and I miss our conversations during walking, but I think the separation was good for us both.
Today's path was far less clearly marked than usual. It wound in between farms, through small towns, and every now and then, at a fork in the road, you had to rely on intuition rather than the blessed arrows. I looked for signs of other pilgrims. These bought relief! The last thing a pilgrim wants to do is to walk further than they need to! Things such as fresh footprints, small piles on rocks and the odd piece of clothing or the full spaghetti bolognese jar all told me I was going in the right direction.
My pack has become 1kg heavier as I feed my caffeine addiction and carry my 1 litre of soy milk!
Today's walk was great. I was mostly alone and enjoyed every step. Even now, I am not feeling the effects of last nights lack of sleep - either my body got what it needed last night, or the coffee here is strong!
Around 11am, I arrived in Sarria. Sarria... The 100km to Santiago town! (111km going by the signs I saw, and 115km going by my book... But what's a few extra here and there!) I sat down and enjoyed an early lunch in the town and met a group of Australians who were starting from Sarria tomorrow to walk their 100km Camino. I feel like a veteran! It does kind of seem unfair that they only walk the last 100km and get the same certificate of completion.
It becomes quite important now to prove that you have walked the last 100km to the pilgrims office in Santiago. This is done by showing them your 'credential'. The credential is like a pilgrim's passport and is received on the first day of your Camino. You use them to prove that you are a pilgrim and therefore getting the pilgrim accommodation at pilgrim rates. Each Albergue and most bars along the Camino each have their own individual rubber stamp. You get a stamp on your credential at the Albergue to prove you walked through that town. This way, the officials in Santiago have evidence you walked the Camino. Due to fraud and lying and cheating, during the last 100km, it is rumored that you have to get 2 stamps at each town you stay - one at your accommodation and the other at a bar. You can never really decipher the truth in these stories that float the Camino, but for the sake of having an extra coffee at a bar in each town in order to obtain my certificate, I am willing to do this!
Most pilgrims who are walking with me now are on the same schedule. To make it to Santiago by Saturday. This means that most of the bigger towns, or the ones recommended in the guide books will be super busy combining the St Jean pilgrims and the newbies that have begun since. Today I walked out of Sarria and on to the next little town only 4km away (107km to Santiago!). I like the smaller towns anyway - more charm and personality! At the moment I am sitting at a stone table, on a stone seat, between a stone fountain flowing with water for pilgrims to fill their bottles and a small stone church (by small I mean around 6m2). All with beautiful roses clambering up and over them. Listen to the serenity!
Galacia weather is unpredictable, however, fingers crossed that the forecasted weather for the next few days - cloudy and sunshine, remains true - but come what may, baby I am hitting the streets of Santiago very soon!
I have a beer to drink and some sun to enjoy... So buenos tardes and esta luego... :)
PS... Leg not so good. Ice, elevation and pills are back on the agenda...
Back at the Albergue, before my heaven in a coffee cup moment, I had sat and blogged in the main 'living room'. Here, a Greek pilgrim who I have been running into throughout the Camino, walked past and asked me how I was. "Your smile does not seem so bright today," she exclaimed after my reply of "Good thanks". She sat down beside me and asked for detail.. In those words! "Give me some detail," she asked. So I had a bit of a vent about somethings that had been going on, and within 10 minutes, without realising it, she was venting to me about a 7 year long relationship that had failed due to his Muslim religion. 7 months after the break, he was married in an arranged marriage back in his home country. It's strange, hearing her speak about her pain and her sadness, and me having my brief vent, really lifted the clouds from my shoulders. This combined with my coffee moment, a reunion with Brad and Ashley from America over dinner made for a good afternoon.
The three of us sat on the side of a street and ate our peregrino dinner, watching other pilgrims walk past. We were looking at the sunburn, the tan lines, injury hobbles and drunk wobbles.
I got to bed at 10pm... Curfew. But there was a problem. My bed was so noisy, in fact, all the bunks in the room (5 in all) squeaked with even the most subtle movement... This is no exaggeration! I think the combination of the coffee and the noise from the bunks meant I watched every hour of the night go by on my watch.
It was ok though. I let my body rest, and my mind wonder... It was lovely and relaxing. I think that in a state of not sleeping, it is easy to become frustrated and then often, even the body gets no rest. At least remaining calm and knowing that the next day would come and go and be ok, ensured that I rose this morning with a little rest.
It was around 5am... Pilgrims were starting to rise from their deep sleep and move around. The noise from this meant that everyone woke super early. I left by 6am and was the second last pilgrim out.
I am really enjoying walking alone at the moment. Sylvia and I still stay in touch through email, and I miss our conversations during walking, but I think the separation was good for us both.
Today's path was far less clearly marked than usual. It wound in between farms, through small towns, and every now and then, at a fork in the road, you had to rely on intuition rather than the blessed arrows. I looked for signs of other pilgrims. These bought relief! The last thing a pilgrim wants to do is to walk further than they need to! Things such as fresh footprints, small piles on rocks and the odd piece of clothing or the full spaghetti bolognese jar all told me I was going in the right direction.
My pack has become 1kg heavier as I feed my caffeine addiction and carry my 1 litre of soy milk!
Today's walk was great. I was mostly alone and enjoyed every step. Even now, I am not feeling the effects of last nights lack of sleep - either my body got what it needed last night, or the coffee here is strong!
Around 11am, I arrived in Sarria. Sarria... The 100km to Santiago town! (111km going by the signs I saw, and 115km going by my book... But what's a few extra here and there!) I sat down and enjoyed an early lunch in the town and met a group of Australians who were starting from Sarria tomorrow to walk their 100km Camino. I feel like a veteran! It does kind of seem unfair that they only walk the last 100km and get the same certificate of completion.
It becomes quite important now to prove that you have walked the last 100km to the pilgrims office in Santiago. This is done by showing them your 'credential'. The credential is like a pilgrim's passport and is received on the first day of your Camino. You use them to prove that you are a pilgrim and therefore getting the pilgrim accommodation at pilgrim rates. Each Albergue and most bars along the Camino each have their own individual rubber stamp. You get a stamp on your credential at the Albergue to prove you walked through that town. This way, the officials in Santiago have evidence you walked the Camino. Due to fraud and lying and cheating, during the last 100km, it is rumored that you have to get 2 stamps at each town you stay - one at your accommodation and the other at a bar. You can never really decipher the truth in these stories that float the Camino, but for the sake of having an extra coffee at a bar in each town in order to obtain my certificate, I am willing to do this!
Most pilgrims who are walking with me now are on the same schedule. To make it to Santiago by Saturday. This means that most of the bigger towns, or the ones recommended in the guide books will be super busy combining the St Jean pilgrims and the newbies that have begun since. Today I walked out of Sarria and on to the next little town only 4km away (107km to Santiago!). I like the smaller towns anyway - more charm and personality! At the moment I am sitting at a stone table, on a stone seat, between a stone fountain flowing with water for pilgrims to fill their bottles and a small stone church (by small I mean around 6m2). All with beautiful roses clambering up and over them. Listen to the serenity!
Galacia weather is unpredictable, however, fingers crossed that the forecasted weather for the next few days - cloudy and sunshine, remains true - but come what may, baby I am hitting the streets of Santiago very soon!
I have a beer to drink and some sun to enjoy... So buenos tardes and esta luego... :)
PS... Leg not so good. Ice, elevation and pills are back on the agenda...
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