Finally getting around to finishing up the last few days of the--well--not-a-pilgrimage-any-longer. But still part of the journey. It's taken me a few weeks to get here, but there you go.
On Saturday, the 31st, we slept in. I know; there's a shock. Niles and Emlyn were across the hall, Marty and I had a room overlooking the Cathedral, and the pension was wonderfully quiet. We had reserved our rooms for two nights, so there was no rush to get out. After we finally got going (grabbing a coffee and croissant for breakfast), Emlyn and I paired up to find me something to wear (we'd only had success in finding her something the day before), while Marty and Niles headed out for the guy equivalent of not-these-clothes.
It was a wandery kind of expedition; we just stepped in and out of shops and poked our heads in here and there, and occasionally went in to try things on. I did eventually find a skirt and top that bordered that line between casual enough to wear with Tevas, and hopefully preventing some of those "looks" from all the very stylish women. (OK, that really wasn't my true motivation. I just wanted to feel not gross again all for my very own self.) Plus spent a little time browsing boutiques for things like necklaces and rings and little gifts for folks back home. It was such a completely opposite feeling from the way we had spent the last 5 weeks, and I had a hard time figuring out that balance between loving it, and feeling--strange. Back to carrying about how things look, how I look. It wasn't right or wrong; it was just different. I hadn't lived in that space for a good while, and wasn't sure if I really wanted it back or not.
Still bought the necklace I found, though--a pendant with a stylized pilgrim shell on it that I really liked. I found myself really wanting to make sure I had some things that would help me remember this space. Not just the place, but the experience. I wanted to be able to, symbolically, carry the Camino with me.
After finishing up a little souvenir shopping, and running into Sarah-from-Quebec a few times (which was a delight!) we headed back to the pension. I changed into woohoo not shorts, and then decided to do the unthinkable. Niles and Emlyn were heading out again to find some gifts for friends, and Marty opted to stay in the room and journal a while, so I headed out to explore a little on my own.
OK, so that's not so unthinkable, you're thinking. No, not really. Except for the fact that I have discovered a truly amazing inability to maintain my sense of direction in any space that isn't laid out on a grid. I get lost. Really, really, really lost. Which tends to make me profoundly uncomfortable; I'm not one of those people who doesn't really care if she knows where she is or not. And oddly enough, I had discovered that there were no longer friendly little yellow arrows pointing me everywhere I wanted to go. I kept kind of hoping they'd magically appear, but I guess it doesn't really work that way.
But I decided I wanted to go out on my own, telling myself I'd just watch really carefully and note the street names and the shops and the turns and stay close enough to know where I was. I thought I was probably doing pretty well for a good while. I recognized things (not really realizing at the time that recognizing things isn't an indication that you actually know what to do from the position of the thing you recognize), and was generally enjoying myself and admiring my courage at stepping out with this whole new "hey everything will work out" Camino attitude.
Then I heard the harmonica. From across a plaza and just around a corner, the strains of "My Darlin' Clementine" floated into my awareness. There's only one person on the Camino I could possibly think of who would be playing that (and I'd already heard him playing it once), so I headed toward the sound.
Yup, it was Jorge. And Raphaela, wonder of wonders! Sitting outside a cafe, waiting for it to open for lunch. We hadn't ever found them the day before, and I had been so disappointed at not seeing them when we got to Santiago, so I was so happy to stumble across them there! I didn't call out, just walked across the plaza, sort of pointing to them. I think Raphaela saw me first, and said something to Jorge, who looked up, yelled "Oh my God!!," ran across the plaza and picked me up.
It has been a long time since anyone has picked me up. I am not what you call petite.
Not only did Jorge pick me up, he held me there, while we both laughed like fools. (I'm still very, very impressed, Jorge! Serious muscles you got there, dude.) This may have been one of the very best parts of my Camino, the joy of seeing them both again when I really thought I might not catch them. Yes, we'd been through this so many times with so many Camino friends; there were lots of other folks we either connected with or missed--and you'd think that at the end I would have been accustomed to letting it all go. But I guess I wasn't; I was so happy to have one more chance to tell them what all their help and encouragement, support and flight-planning, conversation and laughter have meant to me. (And queso con mielo, Jorge.)
We made plans to meet up for a beer later, since they were being called in to the restaurant. They told me it was one of the best in town, with reasonable prices and great food, and there was often a line to get in so we should be sure to come back and try it out. I told them I'd give them a call and we'd meet before dinner, or maybe before the concert that we'd heard was happening in the Cathedral plaza that night. Then I headed back to the pension.
Which, of course, I couldn't find. Yup, saw the stuff I recognized. Just didn't know what to do with it. And while I'd love to be impressed with my ability to, for once, overcome my direction-impairment, I had to settle with being sincerely impressed with my (new-found) ability to not go into a blind panic about it. I figured something would work out. Eventually.
It did. I stumbled across Niles and Emlyn. Both of whom know how to figure out where the heck they are, and where they're going. See? The Camino provides!
I told them I'd found Jorge and Raphaela (but couldn't tell them where!), and they mentioned that they had found Gavin and Claudia, and we were all pretty happy with having made some great connections one last time. Niles and I decided to scope out an internet cafe for blogging and updating, and Emlyn headed back to the pension. (Maybe I should have kept some of my direction genes, instead of passing them all on to the kids. Yeah, I know; it doesn't work that way. Meh--what does science know about real life?)
Hmmm, there seems to be more to talk about than when you spend the entire day just...walking. Haven't even gotten to dinner yet--and then there's the concert. But this will do for now, and more will come--I promise--before long.
Blessings and peace.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
July 30: O Pedrouzo to Santiago de Compostela!
How did I get here?
Woke up this morning having such a hard time believing this would be our last day of walking. The last day in an albergue, the last day of putting on really dirty boots, the last day of getting up and packing up in the dark.
We ate breakfast before we left, and got out by about 6:00. I really wanted to get into Santiago before about 11:00, just to be sure we could get to the worship service at noon. I wasn´t sure weather the 5 hours listed as the walking time in my guide included walking through the city to the cathedral or not.
We headed out along the side of the highway in the dark, but were actually out after most of the other pilgrims had left. (Don´t know if the late sleepers were the ones up past 11:00 the night before or not....) As we set out, walking pretty briskly and feeling pretty excited about the last day, Em and I kind took our normal lead position. We were chatting and talking about a variety of things, until eventually one of us said, "Have you noticed that we haven´t actually seen any Camino markers for a while?" Oh man. The last thing we needed the last day was to miss a turnoff and have to backtrack several miles. We had been watching--sort of. But it was dark, and a little overcast, and there was a very good chance that we might have missed one of those friendly little yellow arrows wee´ve come to rely on so very, very much.
We crossed the highway to get under a light post, and I pulled out my guide and map. We were checking to see how much the Camino followed the highway, when a pilgrim coming just behind us called out that the turnoff away from the highway was about 2 km ahead. Thank goodness! We were so relieved--evidently because we started from a private albergue, we had been taking what was sort of an alternate route along the highway at that point; the actual Camino was a little off to our right.
Once again, the day was pretty uneventful. We passed people we recognized; at one point we passed a woman sleeping under her thermal blanket (at least, I assume she was under there--she was completely covered up), with her backpack next to her and her very, very large Mastiff with the wounded paw sleeping partially under the blanket next to her. We assumed they were ok--we didn´t actually see any breathing or movement, tho. From either one. But they looked like they meant to be where they were.
It was, again, an odd day for me. I sure wasn´t feeling particularly spiritual, and was just eager to get to the end. We had a few tough climbs in the early part of the day, and I was really ready to be done with those! I was feeling the impatience that I also knew I didn´t want to feel, but that´s just life. Eventually I re-centered myself by listening to some of the music I have used regularly along this journey; it has an amazing ability to pull me out of pain or anxiety, and put me back--well--where I want to be, is the only way I can explain it. In my skin, in my experience, in the place I´m in, in the air I´m breathing. Rather than distracting me, it helps me be present to the things that are more real than mere weariness or pain or anxiety.
So when we came into Santiago, I was in a better frame of mind, for sure. There were challenges, for sure. About 10 k out we stopped for coffee, and just as we sat down a large tour bus pulled up, and out poured a large group of people. With hiking boots. And walking sticks. And little backpacks. And matching shirts. And pilgrim shells and gourds. All the accoutrements to make the 6-mile journey into Santiago in full peregrino parephenalia.
OK, I confess. We stared. And sneered. And sniped. Because it seemed like the rest of the way, every time we tried to move, one of those darn walking sticks was in our way. One guy dragged his over the asphalt for miles. In the most spiritually mature way possible, I really wanted to snatch it out of his hand--it was metal-tipped, by the way--and poke him repeatedly with it, and yell, "You don´t need this for six miles, you don´t need just one stick, and you don´t need to drag it behind you for the rest of the way when you won´t let me get past you!
Ah, yes, this spiritual pilgrimage has changed me.
In spite of our spiritual unworthiness (yup, we own it, but we still sneered a little over carrying the pilgrim shell for 10 k), we made it into Santiago without being struck down either by lightening or a steel-tipped walking stick. We actually got in early enough to check into our pension--a place we had gotten a flyer for the day before, and which Jorge-with-the-Spanish had reserved for us. It´s only about 100 meters from the Cathedral. Perfect.
Some of the guide books talk about the letdown of actually arriving. They´re right. When you get here, there´s no indication of where you should go, or what´s happening at the Cathedral, or where you get your Compostela. We just kind of wandered around until we found an entrance to the Cathedral--and didn´t discover until later that we, as pilgrims, should have used another entrance to sit with other pilgrims. There were long lines to get in the door--lots of people who aren´t pilgrims attend the services. There were signs posted that said no backpacks or sacks would be allowed in. But we looked around and saw lots of people with small backpacks, and very large purses, and shopping bags, all going right in. I had a fanny pack, Emlyn had a small cloth pack/purse she got at a youth gathering, but we had been able to leave our backpacks at the pension, fortunately.
But when we got to the door, the security guard looked at Emlyn, pointed to her bag, and said, "no." That was it. Everyone else was going in with their bags, but she couldn´t go in with hers. She had to leave, go back to the penion, leave her purse, and come back. Niles and I went in with Marty, found a place to stand, and then Marty went to meet Emlyn at the door and show her where we were.
It was packed. There was a continual stream of tourists walking around with cameras, and a religious issueing steady streams of "Shhhhhhhhh!" And a lot of liturgy in Spanish. We found the giant incense burner which swings over the heads of all the pilgrims--evidently it´s the largest in the world, and we were pretty exicted to see it--well-swing into action. But it never did. They didn´t use it. But wow, did it look impressive.
I did take communion. It´s been over a month since I´ve had communion, and I always struggle with whether to deceive people in order to share the sacramant. But this time I just needed it. So I got into line, wondering how many people were noticing how very Lutheran-and-not-Catholic I am, when a priest came up to me from the side, held out a host, and said "Body of Christ, for you." (This much Spanish, I got.) I took it as a sign, and took it as communion. Best part of the service, for sure.
Afterward, we went to get our Compostelas--the certificates that (sorry--redundancy alert, here) certify that you have completed the holy pilgrimage. If you don´t want a religious certification, you can get a nicely colored, non-religious one.
We stood in line for a bit, and got our certificates. When I got mine, the man asked my name, then consulted a list of some kind. Then he looked at me and said, "That´s not a Christian name, is it?" Melody, not a Christian name? Well, I´m a Christian, and that´s my name. But it´s not in the Bible, I guess. Anyway, he filled out my form with my full name, "Melody Beckman Eastman." Then looked at all my stamps, and said, "Where did you start?" I said, "St. Jean." (OK, point of PRIDE here, darn it! I walked 380 miles for this sucker!) He said, "But you missed some after Burgos." "Yes, I had an injury and couldn´t walk for 5 days." "So you started in Leon." So that´s what my certificate says. I walked from Leon to Santiago. And through the Pyranees, thank you very much--but that part I just get to carry in my heart, in a very non-prideful sort of way. (Irony alert here, for those of you prone to maybe missing it....)
Got outside, met up with Marty, Niles and Emlyn, and discovered that they all got cool, Latin-sounding versions of their names. (Emlyn is evidently more Christian than Melody, and Niles got to be "Cornelium." Cornelium??) Emlyn also got a cute guy who asked where she started, and she also said, "St. Jean." "You walk all the way?" "Well, we had to take a bus a little bit in the middle." "But you walked the rest?" "Yeah." "OK, St. Jean it is."
Why couldn´t I get cute guy? Ah well....
On the way out, we passed Gavin and Claudia, in line to get theirs. It is so cool how you keep finding each other again!
Did a little shopping in the afternoon, to get some clothes that are not the same pair of shorts I have been wearing non-stop for the past 5 weeks. Oh my goodness, am I sick of those shorts. And the t-shirt--two different colors, but basically, I have been wearing the same clothes non-stop for 5 entire weeks. (two sets, yes. But still, the same clothes. I am so ready for a skirt!) We ended up going for a late dinner, and getting back to our pension a little after 10:00
I found during the afternoon that I´m vascillating between being very gratified that I´ve been able to do this, very glad I don´t have to walk 20 k tomorrow, and very, very sad that it´s over. I´m going to miss my Camino friends. I´m going to miss the Camino friend culture. I´m going to miss the yellow arrows! I´m going to miss the feeling that someone, somewhere, took pains to make sure that I´ll be able to find my way. Until, of course, I remember that that part is still true....
There will be more stories and more reflection to come, but I gotta admit this is about all I got for now.
Thank you for sharing this journey with me. Buen Camino!
Woke up this morning having such a hard time believing this would be our last day of walking. The last day in an albergue, the last day of putting on really dirty boots, the last day of getting up and packing up in the dark.
We ate breakfast before we left, and got out by about 6:00. I really wanted to get into Santiago before about 11:00, just to be sure we could get to the worship service at noon. I wasn´t sure weather the 5 hours listed as the walking time in my guide included walking through the city to the cathedral or not.
We headed out along the side of the highway in the dark, but were actually out after most of the other pilgrims had left. (Don´t know if the late sleepers were the ones up past 11:00 the night before or not....) As we set out, walking pretty briskly and feeling pretty excited about the last day, Em and I kind took our normal lead position. We were chatting and talking about a variety of things, until eventually one of us said, "Have you noticed that we haven´t actually seen any Camino markers for a while?" Oh man. The last thing we needed the last day was to miss a turnoff and have to backtrack several miles. We had been watching--sort of. But it was dark, and a little overcast, and there was a very good chance that we might have missed one of those friendly little yellow arrows wee´ve come to rely on so very, very much.
We crossed the highway to get under a light post, and I pulled out my guide and map. We were checking to see how much the Camino followed the highway, when a pilgrim coming just behind us called out that the turnoff away from the highway was about 2 km ahead. Thank goodness! We were so relieved--evidently because we started from a private albergue, we had been taking what was sort of an alternate route along the highway at that point; the actual Camino was a little off to our right.
Once again, the day was pretty uneventful. We passed people we recognized; at one point we passed a woman sleeping under her thermal blanket (at least, I assume she was under there--she was completely covered up), with her backpack next to her and her very, very large Mastiff with the wounded paw sleeping partially under the blanket next to her. We assumed they were ok--we didn´t actually see any breathing or movement, tho. From either one. But they looked like they meant to be where they were.
It was, again, an odd day for me. I sure wasn´t feeling particularly spiritual, and was just eager to get to the end. We had a few tough climbs in the early part of the day, and I was really ready to be done with those! I was feeling the impatience that I also knew I didn´t want to feel, but that´s just life. Eventually I re-centered myself by listening to some of the music I have used regularly along this journey; it has an amazing ability to pull me out of pain or anxiety, and put me back--well--where I want to be, is the only way I can explain it. In my skin, in my experience, in the place I´m in, in the air I´m breathing. Rather than distracting me, it helps me be present to the things that are more real than mere weariness or pain or anxiety.
So when we came into Santiago, I was in a better frame of mind, for sure. There were challenges, for sure. About 10 k out we stopped for coffee, and just as we sat down a large tour bus pulled up, and out poured a large group of people. With hiking boots. And walking sticks. And little backpacks. And matching shirts. And pilgrim shells and gourds. All the accoutrements to make the 6-mile journey into Santiago in full peregrino parephenalia.
OK, I confess. We stared. And sneered. And sniped. Because it seemed like the rest of the way, every time we tried to move, one of those darn walking sticks was in our way. One guy dragged his over the asphalt for miles. In the most spiritually mature way possible, I really wanted to snatch it out of his hand--it was metal-tipped, by the way--and poke him repeatedly with it, and yell, "You don´t need this for six miles, you don´t need just one stick, and you don´t need to drag it behind you for the rest of the way when you won´t let me get past you!
Ah, yes, this spiritual pilgrimage has changed me.
In spite of our spiritual unworthiness (yup, we own it, but we still sneered a little over carrying the pilgrim shell for 10 k), we made it into Santiago without being struck down either by lightening or a steel-tipped walking stick. We actually got in early enough to check into our pension--a place we had gotten a flyer for the day before, and which Jorge-with-the-Spanish had reserved for us. It´s only about 100 meters from the Cathedral. Perfect.
Some of the guide books talk about the letdown of actually arriving. They´re right. When you get here, there´s no indication of where you should go, or what´s happening at the Cathedral, or where you get your Compostela. We just kind of wandered around until we found an entrance to the Cathedral--and didn´t discover until later that we, as pilgrims, should have used another entrance to sit with other pilgrims. There were long lines to get in the door--lots of people who aren´t pilgrims attend the services. There were signs posted that said no backpacks or sacks would be allowed in. But we looked around and saw lots of people with small backpacks, and very large purses, and shopping bags, all going right in. I had a fanny pack, Emlyn had a small cloth pack/purse she got at a youth gathering, but we had been able to leave our backpacks at the pension, fortunately.
But when we got to the door, the security guard looked at Emlyn, pointed to her bag, and said, "no." That was it. Everyone else was going in with their bags, but she couldn´t go in with hers. She had to leave, go back to the penion, leave her purse, and come back. Niles and I went in with Marty, found a place to stand, and then Marty went to meet Emlyn at the door and show her where we were.
It was packed. There was a continual stream of tourists walking around with cameras, and a religious issueing steady streams of "Shhhhhhhhh!" And a lot of liturgy in Spanish. We found the giant incense burner which swings over the heads of all the pilgrims--evidently it´s the largest in the world, and we were pretty exicted to see it--well-swing into action. But it never did. They didn´t use it. But wow, did it look impressive.
I did take communion. It´s been over a month since I´ve had communion, and I always struggle with whether to deceive people in order to share the sacramant. But this time I just needed it. So I got into line, wondering how many people were noticing how very Lutheran-and-not-Catholic I am, when a priest came up to me from the side, held out a host, and said "Body of Christ, for you." (This much Spanish, I got.) I took it as a sign, and took it as communion. Best part of the service, for sure.
Afterward, we went to get our Compostelas--the certificates that (sorry--redundancy alert, here) certify that you have completed the holy pilgrimage. If you don´t want a religious certification, you can get a nicely colored, non-religious one.
We stood in line for a bit, and got our certificates. When I got mine, the man asked my name, then consulted a list of some kind. Then he looked at me and said, "That´s not a Christian name, is it?" Melody, not a Christian name? Well, I´m a Christian, and that´s my name. But it´s not in the Bible, I guess. Anyway, he filled out my form with my full name, "Melody Beckman Eastman." Then looked at all my stamps, and said, "Where did you start?" I said, "St. Jean." (OK, point of PRIDE here, darn it! I walked 380 miles for this sucker!) He said, "But you missed some after Burgos." "Yes, I had an injury and couldn´t walk for 5 days." "So you started in Leon." So that´s what my certificate says. I walked from Leon to Santiago. And through the Pyranees, thank you very much--but that part I just get to carry in my heart, in a very non-prideful sort of way. (Irony alert here, for those of you prone to maybe missing it....)
Got outside, met up with Marty, Niles and Emlyn, and discovered that they all got cool, Latin-sounding versions of their names. (Emlyn is evidently more Christian than Melody, and Niles got to be "Cornelium." Cornelium??) Emlyn also got a cute guy who asked where she started, and she also said, "St. Jean." "You walk all the way?" "Well, we had to take a bus a little bit in the middle." "But you walked the rest?" "Yeah." "OK, St. Jean it is."
Why couldn´t I get cute guy? Ah well....
On the way out, we passed Gavin and Claudia, in line to get theirs. It is so cool how you keep finding each other again!
Did a little shopping in the afternoon, to get some clothes that are not the same pair of shorts I have been wearing non-stop for the past 5 weeks. Oh my goodness, am I sick of those shorts. And the t-shirt--two different colors, but basically, I have been wearing the same clothes non-stop for 5 entire weeks. (two sets, yes. But still, the same clothes. I am so ready for a skirt!) We ended up going for a late dinner, and getting back to our pension a little after 10:00
I found during the afternoon that I´m vascillating between being very gratified that I´ve been able to do this, very glad I don´t have to walk 20 k tomorrow, and very, very sad that it´s over. I´m going to miss my Camino friends. I´m going to miss the Camino friend culture. I´m going to miss the yellow arrows! I´m going to miss the feeling that someone, somewhere, took pains to make sure that I´ll be able to find my way. Until, of course, I remember that that part is still true....
There will be more stories and more reflection to come, but I gotta admit this is about all I got for now.
Thank you for sharing this journey with me. Buen Camino!
July 29: Arzúa to O Pedrouzo
This was a short day--only 19 Km, and about 4.5 hours of walking. There´s pretty much nothing between Arzúa and O Pedrouzo--the villages are really small, with no albergerges, groceries or any other services even listed. We were pretty much figuring we would be relying on cafes for meals, since we didn´t see any groceries, and after walking about 5 Km I asked Marty how much cash he had taken out the day before, when he went with Emlyn and Niles to the store. "Oh, shoot, I forgot to get cash."
Hmmmm. We had reservations as a private albergue, which probably would follow the practice of all the others we´ve stayed at and require cash. We weren´t sure how big O Pedrouzo would be--my book listed only an albergue, bus station and pharmacy. We took stock, and I had 40 € in my wallet--enough to cover the albergue. Niles had 10, Emlyn had 5, and Marty had 5. 20 € can actually get you a lot of food--if you can find a grocery store. Which there wasn´t a listing for in my guide book until we reached Santiago the next day. So we were facing the possibility of going 1 1/2 days on part of a pack of cookies, a half package of salted nuts, and two nectarines, and whatever we could get at cafes. (Pilgrim menus have been running us 9-10€ per person, instead of the 3-4 € that was listed in previous years.)
This tended to make the morning seem a little longer than we might have expected. We just had to walk, not knowing if we would find a grocery store or cash station when we got to O Pedrouzo, and figuring that one day of solid exercise on an empty stomach wouldn´t actually kill us. We had plenty of water, at least.
The walk was pretty uneventful, at any rate. Again, we saw pilgrims but not overwhelming numbers. We ate cookies for "second breakfast" (a tradition we´ve developed that keeps our energy up through the morning) and were fine. But I began to realize that I just felt done. I was tired of walking, tired of wearing the same clothes, tired of wiping the sweat dripping off my face by 6:30 in the morning...tired. As I reflected on this later (I´m in Santiago as I write this, and we finished the Camino yesterday), I realized I felt like I was beginning to check out. Physically, I wasn´t in any pain--at least, not beyond what I´ve been feeling most of the way. (The neuroma in my right foot is pretty much a constant--manageable and usually not worth mentioning, but a very faithful companion that I suspect I will become tired of shortly after arriving home.) But mentally, I was feeling pretty numb. Which also translated to emotionally and spiritually, I suppose. Rather than feeling excited about almost reaching our goal, I wasn´t feeling much of anything. Pretty flat, energy-wise. Even exhaustion carries its own psychic energy, I think--when you´ve overcome such a physical challenge you at least get the kick of thinking, "That was really hard and I did it!" But this day was just--meh. Not exactly the sort of spiritual experience I was expecting toward the end of this spiritual journey--duh. Have I figured out yet that the Camino never seems to be what you expect? One of the things you do learn is how to be ok with that.
We got to O Pedrouzo, and were happy to discover that it was a fairly large city with both cash machines and groceries. We easily found the albergue, which this time did have our beds, and one for Raphaela. (The one the night before had just written down the wrong day, I´m pretty sure. Jorge is from Valencia--I don´t have any doubts about his ability to communicate the right date!) The question was, where were Jorge and Raphaela? We hadn´t seen them at all the day before, weren´t sure where they were, and didn´t know if she would still be counting on this bed or not. Thae albergue was very nice--again, pretty new looking, with just one room, plus a few private rooms. Unfortunately, there was no kitchen, and we discovered to our dismay that there was no laundry sink! OK, when you have only two sets of clothes and you´re wringing wet with perspiration by 7:00 a.m., facilities for hand washing and line drying are pretty darn important. It just felt like they hadn´t even thought about what they were doing (or, more precisely, what pilgrims would need) when they put this thing together. Again, just such a different atmosphere from the albergues at the beginning of the Camino.
But we washed our clothes in the (too small) bathroom sinks, used our laundry line to supplement the limited lines they had available, and got some food for lunch, which we ate in the little dining/gathering area. A little later in the afternoon, around 4:00, as we were sitting there playing cards, Jorge and Raphaela walked in, and we were so exicted to see them! It´s amazing how exciting it is to reconnect with someone when you haven´t seen them for a day or two, and you have those questions about whether they have found their space, etc. We talked and laughed, compared stories about what happened to each of us the day before after the previous albergue messed up the reservation, and were generally a tad boisterous.
Unfortunately, another feature of this albergue was the complete lack of any kind of door between the gathering area in the front, and the room where the beds were--about 10 feet away. Remember that post I made a few days ago about stupid pilgrims who can´t remember that people might be needing to nap in the afternoon, so they should use their indoor voices? Yeah, today was our turn to be those pilgrims. Granted, we weren´t actually in the dorm, and there wasn´t any place else for us to go, and it was 4:00 in the afternoon, so most people had already had several hours to sleep. But still, Marty walked out of the dorm room and said people were complaining about how loud we were. Oops.
After a while, Jorge asked us how we were getting to Paris for our flight home, and we mentioned that Marty had only found a train that would take us about 20 hours, and cost us about $1000. He absolutely refused to accept that--with the upshot that he spent about the next 2 hours with me, surfing the internet for the European sites he´s familiar with, so find us flights from Santiago to Paris. He got us set for very little, actually, and saved us about 18 hours travel time! So we decided that we would spend two nights in Sanitago, have a day and a half to rest and explore, then have an evening and another full day in Paris. The savings between the train and the flights pretty much got used up for accomodations, but we actually get to spend our time sightseeing, and visiting Paris, instead of sitting on a train. He and Rapeala were so patient and helpful--I couldn´t believe how much they have helped us out on this trip. They have become very, very dear to me, indeed.
After that, they went off to clean up and get something to eat, and we went out to dinner. I couldn´t bear to look at another pilgrim menu, so we went to an Italian restaurant we saw down the street. On the way home we stopped at the grocery and got food for breakfast, and headed back to the albergue for bed. Even with the relatively easy day, I was wiped.
Remember that lack of door thing? All those pilgrims who were sleeping through the afternoon had plenty of energy to sit up until after 11:00 talking and laughing. We, of course, were still planning on getting up at 5:00, since we had a 20 K walk into Santiago the next day and wanted to get in in time for the Pilgrim´s Mass at noon. So I spent my next-to-last evening fuming just a tad more than I would like to think I would. But yeah, that´s just the way it goes, sometimes. Once again (here´s a shock), a day full of challenges, and joys, and a fair bit of keeping-it-in-perspective. Not bad, all things considered. I did finally get to sleep, at least.
Hmmmm. We had reservations as a private albergue, which probably would follow the practice of all the others we´ve stayed at and require cash. We weren´t sure how big O Pedrouzo would be--my book listed only an albergue, bus station and pharmacy. We took stock, and I had 40 € in my wallet--enough to cover the albergue. Niles had 10, Emlyn had 5, and Marty had 5. 20 € can actually get you a lot of food--if you can find a grocery store. Which there wasn´t a listing for in my guide book until we reached Santiago the next day. So we were facing the possibility of going 1 1/2 days on part of a pack of cookies, a half package of salted nuts, and two nectarines, and whatever we could get at cafes. (Pilgrim menus have been running us 9-10€ per person, instead of the 3-4 € that was listed in previous years.)
This tended to make the morning seem a little longer than we might have expected. We just had to walk, not knowing if we would find a grocery store or cash station when we got to O Pedrouzo, and figuring that one day of solid exercise on an empty stomach wouldn´t actually kill us. We had plenty of water, at least.
The walk was pretty uneventful, at any rate. Again, we saw pilgrims but not overwhelming numbers. We ate cookies for "second breakfast" (a tradition we´ve developed that keeps our energy up through the morning) and were fine. But I began to realize that I just felt done. I was tired of walking, tired of wearing the same clothes, tired of wiping the sweat dripping off my face by 6:30 in the morning...tired. As I reflected on this later (I´m in Santiago as I write this, and we finished the Camino yesterday), I realized I felt like I was beginning to check out. Physically, I wasn´t in any pain--at least, not beyond what I´ve been feeling most of the way. (The neuroma in my right foot is pretty much a constant--manageable and usually not worth mentioning, but a very faithful companion that I suspect I will become tired of shortly after arriving home.) But mentally, I was feeling pretty numb. Which also translated to emotionally and spiritually, I suppose. Rather than feeling excited about almost reaching our goal, I wasn´t feeling much of anything. Pretty flat, energy-wise. Even exhaustion carries its own psychic energy, I think--when you´ve overcome such a physical challenge you at least get the kick of thinking, "That was really hard and I did it!" But this day was just--meh. Not exactly the sort of spiritual experience I was expecting toward the end of this spiritual journey--duh. Have I figured out yet that the Camino never seems to be what you expect? One of the things you do learn is how to be ok with that.
We got to O Pedrouzo, and were happy to discover that it was a fairly large city with both cash machines and groceries. We easily found the albergue, which this time did have our beds, and one for Raphaela. (The one the night before had just written down the wrong day, I´m pretty sure. Jorge is from Valencia--I don´t have any doubts about his ability to communicate the right date!) The question was, where were Jorge and Raphaela? We hadn´t seen them at all the day before, weren´t sure where they were, and didn´t know if she would still be counting on this bed or not. Thae albergue was very nice--again, pretty new looking, with just one room, plus a few private rooms. Unfortunately, there was no kitchen, and we discovered to our dismay that there was no laundry sink! OK, when you have only two sets of clothes and you´re wringing wet with perspiration by 7:00 a.m., facilities for hand washing and line drying are pretty darn important. It just felt like they hadn´t even thought about what they were doing (or, more precisely, what pilgrims would need) when they put this thing together. Again, just such a different atmosphere from the albergues at the beginning of the Camino.
But we washed our clothes in the (too small) bathroom sinks, used our laundry line to supplement the limited lines they had available, and got some food for lunch, which we ate in the little dining/gathering area. A little later in the afternoon, around 4:00, as we were sitting there playing cards, Jorge and Raphaela walked in, and we were so exicted to see them! It´s amazing how exciting it is to reconnect with someone when you haven´t seen them for a day or two, and you have those questions about whether they have found their space, etc. We talked and laughed, compared stories about what happened to each of us the day before after the previous albergue messed up the reservation, and were generally a tad boisterous.
Unfortunately, another feature of this albergue was the complete lack of any kind of door between the gathering area in the front, and the room where the beds were--about 10 feet away. Remember that post I made a few days ago about stupid pilgrims who can´t remember that people might be needing to nap in the afternoon, so they should use their indoor voices? Yeah, today was our turn to be those pilgrims. Granted, we weren´t actually in the dorm, and there wasn´t any place else for us to go, and it was 4:00 in the afternoon, so most people had already had several hours to sleep. But still, Marty walked out of the dorm room and said people were complaining about how loud we were. Oops.
After a while, Jorge asked us how we were getting to Paris for our flight home, and we mentioned that Marty had only found a train that would take us about 20 hours, and cost us about $1000. He absolutely refused to accept that--with the upshot that he spent about the next 2 hours with me, surfing the internet for the European sites he´s familiar with, so find us flights from Santiago to Paris. He got us set for very little, actually, and saved us about 18 hours travel time! So we decided that we would spend two nights in Sanitago, have a day and a half to rest and explore, then have an evening and another full day in Paris. The savings between the train and the flights pretty much got used up for accomodations, but we actually get to spend our time sightseeing, and visiting Paris, instead of sitting on a train. He and Rapeala were so patient and helpful--I couldn´t believe how much they have helped us out on this trip. They have become very, very dear to me, indeed.
After that, they went off to clean up and get something to eat, and we went out to dinner. I couldn´t bear to look at another pilgrim menu, so we went to an Italian restaurant we saw down the street. On the way home we stopped at the grocery and got food for breakfast, and headed back to the albergue for bed. Even with the relatively easy day, I was wiped.
Remember that lack of door thing? All those pilgrims who were sleeping through the afternoon had plenty of energy to sit up until after 11:00 talking and laughing. We, of course, were still planning on getting up at 5:00, since we had a 20 K walk into Santiago the next day and wanted to get in in time for the Pilgrim´s Mass at noon. So I spent my next-to-last evening fuming just a tad more than I would like to think I would. But yeah, that´s just the way it goes, sometimes. Once again (here´s a shock), a day full of challenges, and joys, and a fair bit of keeping-it-in-perspective. Not bad, all things considered. I did finally get to sleep, at least.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
July 27 and 28: Portomarin to Palas de Rei, and from there to Arzúa
On Tuesday we knew we had a fairly hard day, so we got up early. We had to cover 22 km over several pretty steep ascents. The day before, I had been commenting to Raphaela about how I was missing whole grain anything, so as we sat at an early breakfast she stumbled sleepily downstairs and handed me her bag of granola for breakfast--what a sweetie! Then she headed back for more sleep--since our rooms were already reserved.
The morning was stunning. We headed out under full dark, but also under a full moon. The walk past the cemetery/mausoleum was quite beautiful, with all the crosses backlit by moonlight. Eventually, as you walk, you begin to realize that you can see the path, and the sun creeps over the hills. We had weather that is, I understand, much more typical for Galicia this time of year--heavy mist and fog, which muted the colors and kept everything pretty cool. Nice, because the steepest climbs were all in the first 10 k. The countryside continues to be very beautiful; today we passed through lovely pine and fern woods, with the mist lying low in the hollows.
We felt much less stress today, because we knew we had beds reserved at a private albergue. But also, we noted that the pilgrims seemed to be much more spread out; there was just a slightly easier feel to the day´s pace. My guide book listed the day as an orange (three categories: green = easy, orange = moderately difficult, and red = difficult). We had been trying to get ourselves psyched up for it to be a really tough day--but again, it didn´t seem as hard as the "easy" day we had before. We walked most of the day pretty much on our own, and got into the albergue in pretty good time. Our beds were indeed waiting, and when we checked in I went ahead and paid for Raphaela´s bed as well so she wouldn´t lose hers. (Jorge continues to find a place to pitch his 1-person tent.) She didn´t arrive until pretty late in the day, so I was glad her bed was secure.
Jorge was struggling, tho, because he´s now fighting the same bites I was getting several days ago--whether they´re just fly bites or bed bugs it´s hard to say. He wanted to wash all his clothes and his sleeping bag, but the albergue wouldn´t agree to let him use the (pay) machines unless he paid 10€, which is the cost of a bed in the private albergues. He was feeling pretty frustrated because he couldn´t get the hostelero to renegotiate with him, but evidently he was finally able to get them to agree to let him use the machines the following morning.
On Wednesday we had another orange day--the last day that isn´t listed as "easy" in my guide book. This one was listed as 25.5 k, but in actuality (according to the distance markers we passed) we did more on the order of about 28 k--about 17.5 miles. It looked like we would have a few climbs and descents that might pose a challenge, but it seemed like it would be more manageable than yesterday.
Wrong again. The climbs were intense--maybe it was that combined with the length of the day that made it so hard. Fairly early on, Emlyn and I realized that we were kind of in the mood to just go and keep going, and Niles and Marty were definitely feeling the need for more breaks. So we agreed that Em and I would just keep going at our own pace, and Marty and Niles should feel free to take breaks and stop for lunch without trying to catch up to us.
Again, more pilgrims than on the early part of the Camino, but still lighter "traffic" than the first day out of Sarria. Emlyn definitely leaves me in the dust when she´s at full speed, so she moved ahead pretty quickly. I found myself passing and being passed by the same people on a pretty regular basis, so it got to the point where we´d smile and nod every time we overtook each other again.
Again, the morning was pleasant--even though we didn´t find a place for breakfast until we had walked for two hours. (I´m not sure which is harder--walking without food or walking without coffee!) But it got hot, and the last 10 k were just killer. Don´t know if it was because I hadn´t really stopped much, or because I knew it was the last tough day (maybe??), or what. But I was really, really glad to get to the city of Arzúa and see Emlyn sitting outside a cafe, waiting for me.
She greeted me with, "Yeah, there´s a problem. Jorge actually made our reservations for last night, according to the albergue. They waited for us but we never showed. They don´t have any beds tonight."
Ouch. We began checking other albergues, and kept hearing "Completo. Completo." (full) After a couple of anxious stops we found a very nice place, tho, that had plenty of beds still available.
My concern is for Raphaela, at this point. She doesn´t know yet that she doesn´t have a bed, we don´t know how she´ll find us, and I don´t know what will still be available when she gets here. Hoping, one more time, that the Camino will provide.
Hard to believe we have only two days of walking before we hit Santiago de Compostela. Can´t decide if I´m happy about that, or not happy. I guess that´s appropriate; there´s no point in being either excited or sad about what isn´t here and what won´t be changed. Living in the moment, indeed. And, with everything we´ve been though, loving it very, very much.
Buen Camino!
The morning was stunning. We headed out under full dark, but also under a full moon. The walk past the cemetery/mausoleum was quite beautiful, with all the crosses backlit by moonlight. Eventually, as you walk, you begin to realize that you can see the path, and the sun creeps over the hills. We had weather that is, I understand, much more typical for Galicia this time of year--heavy mist and fog, which muted the colors and kept everything pretty cool. Nice, because the steepest climbs were all in the first 10 k. The countryside continues to be very beautiful; today we passed through lovely pine and fern woods, with the mist lying low in the hollows.
We felt much less stress today, because we knew we had beds reserved at a private albergue. But also, we noted that the pilgrims seemed to be much more spread out; there was just a slightly easier feel to the day´s pace. My guide book listed the day as an orange (three categories: green = easy, orange = moderately difficult, and red = difficult). We had been trying to get ourselves psyched up for it to be a really tough day--but again, it didn´t seem as hard as the "easy" day we had before. We walked most of the day pretty much on our own, and got into the albergue in pretty good time. Our beds were indeed waiting, and when we checked in I went ahead and paid for Raphaela´s bed as well so she wouldn´t lose hers. (Jorge continues to find a place to pitch his 1-person tent.) She didn´t arrive until pretty late in the day, so I was glad her bed was secure.
Jorge was struggling, tho, because he´s now fighting the same bites I was getting several days ago--whether they´re just fly bites or bed bugs it´s hard to say. He wanted to wash all his clothes and his sleeping bag, but the albergue wouldn´t agree to let him use the (pay) machines unless he paid 10€, which is the cost of a bed in the private albergues. He was feeling pretty frustrated because he couldn´t get the hostelero to renegotiate with him, but evidently he was finally able to get them to agree to let him use the machines the following morning.
On Wednesday we had another orange day--the last day that isn´t listed as "easy" in my guide book. This one was listed as 25.5 k, but in actuality (according to the distance markers we passed) we did more on the order of about 28 k--about 17.5 miles. It looked like we would have a few climbs and descents that might pose a challenge, but it seemed like it would be more manageable than yesterday.
Wrong again. The climbs were intense--maybe it was that combined with the length of the day that made it so hard. Fairly early on, Emlyn and I realized that we were kind of in the mood to just go and keep going, and Niles and Marty were definitely feeling the need for more breaks. So we agreed that Em and I would just keep going at our own pace, and Marty and Niles should feel free to take breaks and stop for lunch without trying to catch up to us.
Again, more pilgrims than on the early part of the Camino, but still lighter "traffic" than the first day out of Sarria. Emlyn definitely leaves me in the dust when she´s at full speed, so she moved ahead pretty quickly. I found myself passing and being passed by the same people on a pretty regular basis, so it got to the point where we´d smile and nod every time we overtook each other again.
Again, the morning was pleasant--even though we didn´t find a place for breakfast until we had walked for two hours. (I´m not sure which is harder--walking without food or walking without coffee!) But it got hot, and the last 10 k were just killer. Don´t know if it was because I hadn´t really stopped much, or because I knew it was the last tough day (maybe??), or what. But I was really, really glad to get to the city of Arzúa and see Emlyn sitting outside a cafe, waiting for me.
She greeted me with, "Yeah, there´s a problem. Jorge actually made our reservations for last night, according to the albergue. They waited for us but we never showed. They don´t have any beds tonight."
Ouch. We began checking other albergues, and kept hearing "Completo. Completo." (full) After a couple of anxious stops we found a very nice place, tho, that had plenty of beds still available.
My concern is for Raphaela, at this point. She doesn´t know yet that she doesn´t have a bed, we don´t know how she´ll find us, and I don´t know what will still be available when she gets here. Hoping, one more time, that the Camino will provide.
Hard to believe we have only two days of walking before we hit Santiago de Compostela. Can´t decide if I´m happy about that, or not happy. I guess that´s appropriate; there´s no point in being either excited or sad about what isn´t here and what won´t be changed. Living in the moment, indeed. And, with everything we´ve been though, loving it very, very much.
Buen Camino!
July 26: Sarria to Portomarin
Well, a different experience of the Camino today for sure. We´re now on the final 100km--this is the minimum one has to walk to get the Compostela--the certificate of completion of a holy pilgrimmage. As I said before, Sarria was pretty full of pilgrims who were beginning there, so we ended up really sharing the Camino with these folks today.
Ummmm--it wasn´t fun. It was odd to note how much the atmosphere of just about everything seemed to change. What had before felt so much like an amazing journey being shared by fellow travelers now felt much more like a race and a competition. There are large groups of pilgrims who have come together--scouts and youth groups and what have you. They tend to travel in packs, are mostly young, often have their heavy backpacks ferried to the next night´s stop--and they travel fast. We thought we might miss the large crowds of pilgrims hurrying into Santiago by planning to arrive after the festival day on June 25. Lots of other people evidently had the same idea.
There are fewer calls of "Buen Camino!" and more general loudness. You tend to either feel like you´re stuck behind a pack and can´t get around them, or a pack is about to run over you from behind and you need to hurry up or get out of the way. I know we´re not supposed to feel like this--I´m probably not really supposed to be referring to fellow pilgrims as "packs"--but that´s where we are. It was just a stressful-feeling kind of day, even though it was supposed to be fairly easy--just 21.5 km with only gentle inclines and descents.
When we got into Portomarin and headed to the municipal albergue, there was already a very long line outside, waiting to get in. Marty went to sit in line, while Niles, Emlyn and I headed to a cafe to order sandwiches for all of us. We knew Marty wouldn´t be able to actually get beds for us if we weren´t in line too, but we figured we could probably eat and take a sandwich to Marty before the albergue doors opened.
While we were waiting we ran across Gavin, Claudia and her sister Sarah--Camino friends from the part of our journey around Burgos. I figured we had left them behind--or they us--for good when I came down with shinsplints and had to take days off, then bus/train ahead to meet Marty and get back on track. It was great fun to see them and catch up a bit.
After we ate, we still had to wait in line for over 1/2 hour in the full sun before we got in, and during that time we weren´t at all sure there would be beds left when we got there. But there were--thank goodness!
This albergue had a wonderful large kitchen area. Other pilgrims were cooking and eating, and we thought that would be a good plan for the evening. But by the time dinnertime rolled around, all the kitchen utensils, pots and dishes were gone. Everything got taken out, because someone cooked but didn´t bother to wash their own dishes. (This is the second time we´ve seen pilgrims cook and not wash up after themselves.) There was just a different feeling in the albergue in general. On one of the bulletin boards as we went in, someone had written in permanent marker, "Poser Pilgrims, go the **** home!" There´s definitely a sense of frustration, resentment, etc. that is different.
I did some thinking about that, and realized how much I struggle with it myself. I did, in fact, make an offhanded, highly amusing (!?) comment about "posergrinos" myself. On the one hand, it´s really annoying when someone new to the Camino puts their pack and lots of loose stuff on the only chair in the room--as though there´s no one else there. Or they feel they need to take their full pack in to the very very tiny bathroom with three sinks but hardly any space, while they brush their teeth and put on makeup. Or they can´t understand that, while it still may be light outside, even at 4:00 in the afternoon people in the bunks are sleeping because they´ve carried their full packs 15 or 20 miles through the heat and are exhausted, and will be getting up at 4:30 or 5:00 in the morning--so maybe those who are awake should use very indoor voices instead of shouting and laughing loudly in the rooms.
On the other hand, anyone who drops obscenities on people they don´t even know probably qualifies as a poser pilgrim as well.
Fact is, those of us who started this thing 400 km back or so were probably anxious enough before we left to check out the websites and Camino forums, where we learned the etiquette and expectations of the Camino. And when we started out, the albergue hosteleros were careful to explain to us that boots wen´t outside the sleeping rooms, and packs never, never went on the beds (since said packs probably spent a fair amount of time on the Camino sitting on sheep doots during rest breaks). Lately, tho, I haven´t seen many hosteleros actually take the time to explain any of that. So yeah, small wonder people--especially people in their teens--don´t figure it out on their own.
So I tried to remember patience. Unfortunately, patience doesn´t address the issue that there are just a whole lot of people vying for beds now. I spoke with one woman--about my age--who has been walking from Lograño--not quite as far as we´ve come, but close. Virginia is from Colombia and currently living in the UK. She said she had had it--this is no fun anymore, too much like a race, too stressful on her body, and not worth it. She was seriously thinking of bagging it and taking the bus to Santiago (thus forfeiting her compostela), and then heading home.
The Eastmans did a check-in on how we were feeling, and although we don´t love the shift in culture that we´re feeling, we want to keep going. It means earlier starts, which wouldn´t be a bad thing with the heat. And then we heard that Virginia had actually simply reserved a bed at private albergues for the rest of the trip. We decided that was an option that appealed to us very much, and Jorge was gracious enough to offer to call ahead and make the reservations.
In the afternoon, after a bit of a rest, we went to the river with Jorge and Raphaela, and they and Emlyn went swimming. It was lovely, but still very hot, and I ended up sitting out there just too long. Did not feel well at all after that. We went to a cafe/bar for a cold drink, and met up with Gavin and Claudia, so spent some time chatting, and having a drink--which left me feeling much better. It was so delightful to be with them again--just to know that things we assume are lost, aren´t always.
Ummmm--it wasn´t fun. It was odd to note how much the atmosphere of just about everything seemed to change. What had before felt so much like an amazing journey being shared by fellow travelers now felt much more like a race and a competition. There are large groups of pilgrims who have come together--scouts and youth groups and what have you. They tend to travel in packs, are mostly young, often have their heavy backpacks ferried to the next night´s stop--and they travel fast. We thought we might miss the large crowds of pilgrims hurrying into Santiago by planning to arrive after the festival day on June 25. Lots of other people evidently had the same idea.
There are fewer calls of "Buen Camino!" and more general loudness. You tend to either feel like you´re stuck behind a pack and can´t get around them, or a pack is about to run over you from behind and you need to hurry up or get out of the way. I know we´re not supposed to feel like this--I´m probably not really supposed to be referring to fellow pilgrims as "packs"--but that´s where we are. It was just a stressful-feeling kind of day, even though it was supposed to be fairly easy--just 21.5 km with only gentle inclines and descents.
When we got into Portomarin and headed to the municipal albergue, there was already a very long line outside, waiting to get in. Marty went to sit in line, while Niles, Emlyn and I headed to a cafe to order sandwiches for all of us. We knew Marty wouldn´t be able to actually get beds for us if we weren´t in line too, but we figured we could probably eat and take a sandwich to Marty before the albergue doors opened.
While we were waiting we ran across Gavin, Claudia and her sister Sarah--Camino friends from the part of our journey around Burgos. I figured we had left them behind--or they us--for good when I came down with shinsplints and had to take days off, then bus/train ahead to meet Marty and get back on track. It was great fun to see them and catch up a bit.
After we ate, we still had to wait in line for over 1/2 hour in the full sun before we got in, and during that time we weren´t at all sure there would be beds left when we got there. But there were--thank goodness!
This albergue had a wonderful large kitchen area. Other pilgrims were cooking and eating, and we thought that would be a good plan for the evening. But by the time dinnertime rolled around, all the kitchen utensils, pots and dishes were gone. Everything got taken out, because someone cooked but didn´t bother to wash their own dishes. (This is the second time we´ve seen pilgrims cook and not wash up after themselves.) There was just a different feeling in the albergue in general. On one of the bulletin boards as we went in, someone had written in permanent marker, "Poser Pilgrims, go the **** home!" There´s definitely a sense of frustration, resentment, etc. that is different.
I did some thinking about that, and realized how much I struggle with it myself. I did, in fact, make an offhanded, highly amusing (!?) comment about "posergrinos" myself. On the one hand, it´s really annoying when someone new to the Camino puts their pack and lots of loose stuff on the only chair in the room--as though there´s no one else there. Or they feel they need to take their full pack in to the very very tiny bathroom with three sinks but hardly any space, while they brush their teeth and put on makeup. Or they can´t understand that, while it still may be light outside, even at 4:00 in the afternoon people in the bunks are sleeping because they´ve carried their full packs 15 or 20 miles through the heat and are exhausted, and will be getting up at 4:30 or 5:00 in the morning--so maybe those who are awake should use very indoor voices instead of shouting and laughing loudly in the rooms.
On the other hand, anyone who drops obscenities on people they don´t even know probably qualifies as a poser pilgrim as well.
Fact is, those of us who started this thing 400 km back or so were probably anxious enough before we left to check out the websites and Camino forums, where we learned the etiquette and expectations of the Camino. And when we started out, the albergue hosteleros were careful to explain to us that boots wen´t outside the sleeping rooms, and packs never, never went on the beds (since said packs probably spent a fair amount of time on the Camino sitting on sheep doots during rest breaks). Lately, tho, I haven´t seen many hosteleros actually take the time to explain any of that. So yeah, small wonder people--especially people in their teens--don´t figure it out on their own.
So I tried to remember patience. Unfortunately, patience doesn´t address the issue that there are just a whole lot of people vying for beds now. I spoke with one woman--about my age--who has been walking from Lograño--not quite as far as we´ve come, but close. Virginia is from Colombia and currently living in the UK. She said she had had it--this is no fun anymore, too much like a race, too stressful on her body, and not worth it. She was seriously thinking of bagging it and taking the bus to Santiago (thus forfeiting her compostela), and then heading home.
The Eastmans did a check-in on how we were feeling, and although we don´t love the shift in culture that we´re feeling, we want to keep going. It means earlier starts, which wouldn´t be a bad thing with the heat. And then we heard that Virginia had actually simply reserved a bed at private albergues for the rest of the trip. We decided that was an option that appealed to us very much, and Jorge was gracious enough to offer to call ahead and make the reservations.
In the afternoon, after a bit of a rest, we went to the river with Jorge and Raphaela, and they and Emlyn went swimming. It was lovely, but still very hot, and I ended up sitting out there just too long. Did not feel well at all after that. We went to a cafe/bar for a cold drink, and met up with Gavin and Claudia, so spent some time chatting, and having a drink--which left me feeling much better. It was so delightful to be with them again--just to know that things we assume are lost, aren´t always.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
July 25, the feast of St. James: Triacastela to Sarria
The albergue we stayed at last night had rooms with four beds each, which was quite the luxery. Although the beds had wooden frames, and CREAKED unbelievably loud every time anyone breathed heavy, so I wore my earplugs anyway--even though none of us has been snoring.
Upside of having a room to ourselves? We don´t get awakened by the other pilgrims getting up at 5:00. Downside of having a room to ourselves? We don´t get awakened by the other pilgrims getting up at 5:00. We overslept; Marty woke me up at 7:30, and we didn´t finish breakfast and get going until 8:30.
It was an easy day--21.5 K (almost 14 miles), with occasional climbs and descents. The walk was beautiful, again running along and above the same beautiful flowing stream. The morning was silent except for the sound of the water burbling and rushing over rocks and the occasional waterfall, and birds. The sun was up by the time we left, so it wasn´t too chilly. Before long we left the highway we were following and entered very rural areas, where the Camino took us along fields and past barns. Often, the way was completely shaded by trees overhead, and the colors were again just stunning. Once in a while a car or tractor would drive past, and it did occur to me that the dust we were breathing was probably made up predominantly of dried cow patties. ´Cause there are--wow--a lot of cow patties along the way in these parts. Along with the sheep doots.
We stopped in a small village mid-morning to get something to take with us for lunch, and bought empanada--a pastry stuffed with onions and meat and sauce. Sounded good! When we actually got to the lunch break, tho, we discovered the "meat" was applied with a pretty loose definition. A fair percentage of the meat was in fact made up of bits--you know, fat and tubes and things. We discovered we weren´t quite as hungry as we thought we had been, although the fruit and cookies we had with us went quite well.
Didn´t see too many other pilgrims on the way today, even though we are approaching the last 100K of the Camino, which is the minimum one must walk to get the compostela at the end. (We did pass one young man and his mother--he was stopped right by the path, evidently in some intestinal distress. We had no choice but to walk right by him while his mother smiled at us apologetically. Sometimes the only thing you can do is understand that some things are emergencies, and avert your eyes.)
Shortly after lunch (while the empanadas were quite distressing, our "dining room" under the trees above the very beautiful river was exquisite), we discovered the downside of getting over 9 hours of sleep the night before. It was hot. We seem to keep forgetting that the afternoons, when one still has to walk with a pack, are really, really hot. It was a very long slog into Sarria. At this point in the Camino the small towns are so small they often don´t have albergues, so you just have to keep going. We didn´t get into Sarria until about 4:30.
Since this is the point at which people who want to do the 100K minimum begin, many of the albergues were full by the time we got here. We walked further into town (this is a pretty large city, with several albergues and pensions and hostels), and stopped at an "international albergue." The woman first told us they had only two semi-private rooms for 45 euro each, and we said we would look further. She then said, "Oh, wait, I think I have four beds available in two different rooms." We said that would be fine. Emlyn and I are in one room, and Niles and Marty in the other. Oddly enough, people who came in behind us (including Jorge and Raphaela) were told the albergue had no more beds--but Marty and Niles are the only people in their room, which has at least 10 more beds. Who knows....
Anyway, a quiet day--restful for the mind, even for the one extrovert in the family. (One of these days I´ll have to reflect on what it´s like to do the Camino as a family made up of 3 introverts and one extrovert!) We plan to start early tomorrow, since we have another 21.5K day and don´t want to walk in that heat again. But we all continue to feel pretty good, and are holding up well.
Buen Camino!
Upside of having a room to ourselves? We don´t get awakened by the other pilgrims getting up at 5:00. Downside of having a room to ourselves? We don´t get awakened by the other pilgrims getting up at 5:00. We overslept; Marty woke me up at 7:30, and we didn´t finish breakfast and get going until 8:30.
It was an easy day--21.5 K (almost 14 miles), with occasional climbs and descents. The walk was beautiful, again running along and above the same beautiful flowing stream. The morning was silent except for the sound of the water burbling and rushing over rocks and the occasional waterfall, and birds. The sun was up by the time we left, so it wasn´t too chilly. Before long we left the highway we were following and entered very rural areas, where the Camino took us along fields and past barns. Often, the way was completely shaded by trees overhead, and the colors were again just stunning. Once in a while a car or tractor would drive past, and it did occur to me that the dust we were breathing was probably made up predominantly of dried cow patties. ´Cause there are--wow--a lot of cow patties along the way in these parts. Along with the sheep doots.
We stopped in a small village mid-morning to get something to take with us for lunch, and bought empanada--a pastry stuffed with onions and meat and sauce. Sounded good! When we actually got to the lunch break, tho, we discovered the "meat" was applied with a pretty loose definition. A fair percentage of the meat was in fact made up of bits--you know, fat and tubes and things. We discovered we weren´t quite as hungry as we thought we had been, although the fruit and cookies we had with us went quite well.
Didn´t see too many other pilgrims on the way today, even though we are approaching the last 100K of the Camino, which is the minimum one must walk to get the compostela at the end. (We did pass one young man and his mother--he was stopped right by the path, evidently in some intestinal distress. We had no choice but to walk right by him while his mother smiled at us apologetically. Sometimes the only thing you can do is understand that some things are emergencies, and avert your eyes.)
Shortly after lunch (while the empanadas were quite distressing, our "dining room" under the trees above the very beautiful river was exquisite), we discovered the downside of getting over 9 hours of sleep the night before. It was hot. We seem to keep forgetting that the afternoons, when one still has to walk with a pack, are really, really hot. It was a very long slog into Sarria. At this point in the Camino the small towns are so small they often don´t have albergues, so you just have to keep going. We didn´t get into Sarria until about 4:30.
Since this is the point at which people who want to do the 100K minimum begin, many of the albergues were full by the time we got here. We walked further into town (this is a pretty large city, with several albergues and pensions and hostels), and stopped at an "international albergue." The woman first told us they had only two semi-private rooms for 45 euro each, and we said we would look further. She then said, "Oh, wait, I think I have four beds available in two different rooms." We said that would be fine. Emlyn and I are in one room, and Niles and Marty in the other. Oddly enough, people who came in behind us (including Jorge and Raphaela) were told the albergue had no more beds--but Marty and Niles are the only people in their room, which has at least 10 more beds. Who knows....
Anyway, a quiet day--restful for the mind, even for the one extrovert in the family. (One of these days I´ll have to reflect on what it´s like to do the Camino as a family made up of 3 introverts and one extrovert!) We plan to start early tomorrow, since we have another 21.5K day and don´t want to walk in that heat again. But we all continue to feel pretty good, and are holding up well.
Buen Camino!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
July 23 and 24: Vega de Valcarce to O Cebreiro, and on to Triacastela
On Friday we had what looked to be a pretty tough day. The guidebook indicated our walk would only be 12 K, but would take 4 hours because we would be climbing over 2200 feet. That is a lot of up.
Thursday night before I went to bed I met a young man named Elias--originally from Barcelona but now living in Mexico. I had overheard him talking with another guy about the problems with their legs, and asked if he was having problems. He had been walking for almost 3 weeks and had been fine, but suddenly developed a lot of pain in his calf muscles. I told him about using anti-inflammatories on a regular basis, rather than just when the pain becomes to great, to reduce the inflammation, and he thanked me profoundly and headed off to the farmacia before they closed to buy those wonderful 600-mg ibuprofin capsules they have here. (Thanks again, Lisa!)
So Friday we got up very early, ate breakfast at the albergue (muffins, BiFructa--that odd milk-and-juice combination that is so delicious--and coffee) and started out. Emlyn and Niles always walk a good bit faster than I do in the morning, and Marty began to walk a bit ahead as well. The morning was absolutely glorious, and the first part of the walk was not very steep. Before long I came upon Elias, who told me he was having a lot of pain and wondering if he would be able to make the walk. It´s so hard, sometimes, to figure out whether you should bag it or try to go a little further and see how you feel. The problem is going on to a town that doesn´t have any bus service and deciding you´re doing too much harm to yourself; at that point the only option is an expensive taxi or walking.
I chatted with Elias a bit about taking it slow (which he knows, of course), and asked if he felt comfortable walking by himself when he was feeling so much pain. He assured me he would be fine, so I told him I would hold him in prayer for the pain to ease, and not become so severe that he couldn´t continue. He smiled at me--one of those surprised and pleased ones--and thanked me sincerely. I wished him Buen Camino and walked ahead.
The day consisted of about three steep uphill climbs broken up by villages where things level off a bit for a short distance. I huffed my way up the first climb, and got to La Faba where Marty, Emlyn and Niles were waiting for me to have our regular coffee break. They said, "Guess who we found!" and sitting there with a group of five young women was Jorge. I laughed, greeted them and sat down with a double espresso. As we began chatting, with Jorge introducing me and interpreting (they were all Spanish and didn´t speak much English), he asked if it was all right to tell them what I do. I said sure, and as soon as he said I was a pastor they said, "No!" (That I understood!) Then the questions started....
He told them that I am interested in what young people think about the Church and about God. And boy howdy, were they ready to tell me! They all spoke about being so disgusted with the Church, about how the church only gives you rules and tell you you have to follow them without thinking, and about it doesn´t have anything to do with anyone´s life really but they don´t even seem to realize that. One young woman said, "I don´t believe in God. The Church just tells you lies about what you have to do and what is wrong with you." Another said she had strong faith until she was 10, but she lost her faith when her father died, and she was wondering how she could get it back because she had liked believing in God. They were amazed that we had women pastors, and thought that was just great. I told them a little more about what our church does, and one woman asked how they could get the church in Spain to open up to these new ideas.
At one point one of the women asked a question about my own faith, and I began describing my own faith journey. This set them all back a bit, because I began with my experience of having been attacked and nearly killed almost 30 years ago. I caught poor Jorge off guard; he had to take a breath and gather himself to interpret what I was saying; sometimes I forget how hard my story can be for others to hear, since I´ve been sharing it so long. But we continued on, and I described how, for me, this experience had resulted in my understanding the the amazing revelation of love in Christ is grounded in the idea that the omnipotent, undying God had chosen to go through all of our own dying, so we would never think we had a God who couldn´t understand what our dying is like. They had lots of questions, but the main thing that struck me was that they seemed to have never heard the idea that the death of Jesus is a revelation of the unlimited nature of God´s love--who was willing to die every death we die out of love for us.
It was a great conversation. Once again, I was struck by their hunger to engage at a spiritual level, and the fact that they seemed not to understand the distinction between their problems with some of the actions or teachings of the Church, and their questions about the very existence of God. If they disagreed with the Church, then for them, God isn´t real.
They were also blown away to learn that our congregation is Open and Affirming, and that our denomination has opened itself to allowing congregations to bless life-long, same-gender unions, and that we had celebrated a union at my congregation just before I left for the Camino. Jorge told me later that two of the women are lesbians; they were just amazed that there could possibly be a Christian community that would not immediately tell them they were going to hell.
We all continued the walk together (my family had long since walked ahead), and continued chatting. We stopped for several pictures--which they insisted I be in. (I got lots of hugs that morning!) We passed Elias again, and when I asked how he was doing he said, "The pain and I have made friends!" He felt he was goinig to make it, and I told him I was very glad but I wouldn´t stop praying.
After the next steep climb we stopped again, for the village specialty at the cafe in La Laguna. This was queso con mielo--cheese with honey. It´s a soft cheese, locally made, about the consistency of cream cheese, served with locally-produced honey drizzled over the top. Delicious! We sat together and visited with some other peregrinos we met at the cafe, then set out to finish the last leg to O Cebreiro.
As we were heading up that last slope, it occured to me that, for the first time since I could remember, I was pretty much walking without pain. I coudn´t remember when the last time I had done that had been; I was really resonating with Elias´ statement about making friends with the pain! It was such an amazing joy to share the company of Jorge and these young women, traveling and stopping whenever we felt like it, and not thinking about my shin or my foot every step. When we got to O Cebreiro, I could hardly believe that what was supposed to be one of the hardest days had been--once again--one of my best.
Marty, Emlyn and Niles were waiting for me--and had been for quite a while, since we were really taking it slow. (Hence the no pain, I suppose--duh!) O Cebreiro is at 1330 meters, and the views from around there are absolutely stunning. Which has resulted in the town becoming quite the tourist town--too much so for our taste, actually. Sine we were all feeling much better than we thought we would, we decided to continue about another 7 K to Hospital de la Condesa, where there was an albergue with 20 beds. We weren´t sure that they wouldn´t be full, but decided to shoot for it anyway. It was a pretty easy walk, and there were plenty of beds open when we got there.
This albergue had been totally redone, with a very slick, contemporary feel. The kitchen was gorgeous--stainless steel appliances, very modern, cherry cabinets--it looked like something out of a kitchen design catalog from the States. Unfortunately, the town was so small there was one cafe and no grocery store--so there was absolutely no way we could buy anything to actually cook in the kitchen. No wonder it still looked so nice! (A lot of the albergues have received money to upgrade in prep for this festival year, evidently.)
We spent the evening playing cards, hanging out at the cafe, and relaxing.
Today, July 24, we slept in again until 6:00, then headed out for the 14 K walk to Triacastela. This was also supposed to be a hard day, since we were going town the same 2200 feet. The sunrise was absolutely beautiful, and it was a great early morning walk again. We found a cafe for croissants and coffee a couple of K out, which definitly helped my energy level. Then, at the next town, we stumbled across Jorge and Raphaela (we didn´t see Raphaela the day before until we all got to O Cebreiro). We all continued to walk together, and again spent the morning chatting, laughing, and comparing Camino experiences--and as always, the time just flew past. They were planning on meeting Sara at Triacastela and then all going on together, but we had decided to stay here. The rest of our days should be fairly easy, and we´ll still probably arrive in Santiago on the 30th, which we hope will give us a day to relax, maybe bus to Finis Terre, and do a little sightseeing.
We´re all feeling pretty good, although I´m covered in bites that I fear might be bed bugs. No one else seems to have them. I do get really severe reactions even to mosquito bites, and the flies here are plentious and fierce, so I suppose it could be that. But I´m paying to have all my bedding and clothing washed, and sprayed my pack and hung it out in the sun, in the hopes that I can at least not itch quite so much tomorrow. The red welts on my neck are truly impressive.
So that catches me up. Again, every day brings blessings I didn´t expect, and all kinds of beauty, and wonderful friends. Maybe, just maybe, I´m getting the hang of this....
Blessings and peace....
Thursday night before I went to bed I met a young man named Elias--originally from Barcelona but now living in Mexico. I had overheard him talking with another guy about the problems with their legs, and asked if he was having problems. He had been walking for almost 3 weeks and had been fine, but suddenly developed a lot of pain in his calf muscles. I told him about using anti-inflammatories on a regular basis, rather than just when the pain becomes to great, to reduce the inflammation, and he thanked me profoundly and headed off to the farmacia before they closed to buy those wonderful 600-mg ibuprofin capsules they have here. (Thanks again, Lisa!)
So Friday we got up very early, ate breakfast at the albergue (muffins, BiFructa--that odd milk-and-juice combination that is so delicious--and coffee) and started out. Emlyn and Niles always walk a good bit faster than I do in the morning, and Marty began to walk a bit ahead as well. The morning was absolutely glorious, and the first part of the walk was not very steep. Before long I came upon Elias, who told me he was having a lot of pain and wondering if he would be able to make the walk. It´s so hard, sometimes, to figure out whether you should bag it or try to go a little further and see how you feel. The problem is going on to a town that doesn´t have any bus service and deciding you´re doing too much harm to yourself; at that point the only option is an expensive taxi or walking.
I chatted with Elias a bit about taking it slow (which he knows, of course), and asked if he felt comfortable walking by himself when he was feeling so much pain. He assured me he would be fine, so I told him I would hold him in prayer for the pain to ease, and not become so severe that he couldn´t continue. He smiled at me--one of those surprised and pleased ones--and thanked me sincerely. I wished him Buen Camino and walked ahead.
The day consisted of about three steep uphill climbs broken up by villages where things level off a bit for a short distance. I huffed my way up the first climb, and got to La Faba where Marty, Emlyn and Niles were waiting for me to have our regular coffee break. They said, "Guess who we found!" and sitting there with a group of five young women was Jorge. I laughed, greeted them and sat down with a double espresso. As we began chatting, with Jorge introducing me and interpreting (they were all Spanish and didn´t speak much English), he asked if it was all right to tell them what I do. I said sure, and as soon as he said I was a pastor they said, "No!" (That I understood!) Then the questions started....
He told them that I am interested in what young people think about the Church and about God. And boy howdy, were they ready to tell me! They all spoke about being so disgusted with the Church, about how the church only gives you rules and tell you you have to follow them without thinking, and about it doesn´t have anything to do with anyone´s life really but they don´t even seem to realize that. One young woman said, "I don´t believe in God. The Church just tells you lies about what you have to do and what is wrong with you." Another said she had strong faith until she was 10, but she lost her faith when her father died, and she was wondering how she could get it back because she had liked believing in God. They were amazed that we had women pastors, and thought that was just great. I told them a little more about what our church does, and one woman asked how they could get the church in Spain to open up to these new ideas.
At one point one of the women asked a question about my own faith, and I began describing my own faith journey. This set them all back a bit, because I began with my experience of having been attacked and nearly killed almost 30 years ago. I caught poor Jorge off guard; he had to take a breath and gather himself to interpret what I was saying; sometimes I forget how hard my story can be for others to hear, since I´ve been sharing it so long. But we continued on, and I described how, for me, this experience had resulted in my understanding the the amazing revelation of love in Christ is grounded in the idea that the omnipotent, undying God had chosen to go through all of our own dying, so we would never think we had a God who couldn´t understand what our dying is like. They had lots of questions, but the main thing that struck me was that they seemed to have never heard the idea that the death of Jesus is a revelation of the unlimited nature of God´s love--who was willing to die every death we die out of love for us.
It was a great conversation. Once again, I was struck by their hunger to engage at a spiritual level, and the fact that they seemed not to understand the distinction between their problems with some of the actions or teachings of the Church, and their questions about the very existence of God. If they disagreed with the Church, then for them, God isn´t real.
They were also blown away to learn that our congregation is Open and Affirming, and that our denomination has opened itself to allowing congregations to bless life-long, same-gender unions, and that we had celebrated a union at my congregation just before I left for the Camino. Jorge told me later that two of the women are lesbians; they were just amazed that there could possibly be a Christian community that would not immediately tell them they were going to hell.
We all continued the walk together (my family had long since walked ahead), and continued chatting. We stopped for several pictures--which they insisted I be in. (I got lots of hugs that morning!) We passed Elias again, and when I asked how he was doing he said, "The pain and I have made friends!" He felt he was goinig to make it, and I told him I was very glad but I wouldn´t stop praying.
After the next steep climb we stopped again, for the village specialty at the cafe in La Laguna. This was queso con mielo--cheese with honey. It´s a soft cheese, locally made, about the consistency of cream cheese, served with locally-produced honey drizzled over the top. Delicious! We sat together and visited with some other peregrinos we met at the cafe, then set out to finish the last leg to O Cebreiro.
As we were heading up that last slope, it occured to me that, for the first time since I could remember, I was pretty much walking without pain. I coudn´t remember when the last time I had done that had been; I was really resonating with Elias´ statement about making friends with the pain! It was such an amazing joy to share the company of Jorge and these young women, traveling and stopping whenever we felt like it, and not thinking about my shin or my foot every step. When we got to O Cebreiro, I could hardly believe that what was supposed to be one of the hardest days had been--once again--one of my best.
Marty, Emlyn and Niles were waiting for me--and had been for quite a while, since we were really taking it slow. (Hence the no pain, I suppose--duh!) O Cebreiro is at 1330 meters, and the views from around there are absolutely stunning. Which has resulted in the town becoming quite the tourist town--too much so for our taste, actually. Sine we were all feeling much better than we thought we would, we decided to continue about another 7 K to Hospital de la Condesa, where there was an albergue with 20 beds. We weren´t sure that they wouldn´t be full, but decided to shoot for it anyway. It was a pretty easy walk, and there were plenty of beds open when we got there.
This albergue had been totally redone, with a very slick, contemporary feel. The kitchen was gorgeous--stainless steel appliances, very modern, cherry cabinets--it looked like something out of a kitchen design catalog from the States. Unfortunately, the town was so small there was one cafe and no grocery store--so there was absolutely no way we could buy anything to actually cook in the kitchen. No wonder it still looked so nice! (A lot of the albergues have received money to upgrade in prep for this festival year, evidently.)
We spent the evening playing cards, hanging out at the cafe, and relaxing.
Today, July 24, we slept in again until 6:00, then headed out for the 14 K walk to Triacastela. This was also supposed to be a hard day, since we were going town the same 2200 feet. The sunrise was absolutely beautiful, and it was a great early morning walk again. We found a cafe for croissants and coffee a couple of K out, which definitly helped my energy level. Then, at the next town, we stumbled across Jorge and Raphaela (we didn´t see Raphaela the day before until we all got to O Cebreiro). We all continued to walk together, and again spent the morning chatting, laughing, and comparing Camino experiences--and as always, the time just flew past. They were planning on meeting Sara at Triacastela and then all going on together, but we had decided to stay here. The rest of our days should be fairly easy, and we´ll still probably arrive in Santiago on the 30th, which we hope will give us a day to relax, maybe bus to Finis Terre, and do a little sightseeing.
We´re all feeling pretty good, although I´m covered in bites that I fear might be bed bugs. No one else seems to have them. I do get really severe reactions even to mosquito bites, and the flies here are plentious and fierce, so I suppose it could be that. But I´m paying to have all my bedding and clothing washed, and sprayed my pack and hung it out in the sun, in the hopes that I can at least not itch quite so much tomorrow. The red welts on my neck are truly impressive.
So that catches me up. Again, every day brings blessings I didn´t expect, and all kinds of beauty, and wonderful friends. Maybe, just maybe, I´m getting the hang of this....
Blessings and peace....
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