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....
Thursday, July 22, 2010
July 21: Villafranca del Bierzo to Vega de Valcarce
Last night at dinner we discovered the "eccentric" part of our albergue host. We had noticed in the guide that peregrinos were not allowed to "do any work," and were a little curious what that might mean. At dinner we found out when Rob, a fellow American (from south Georgia), made the mistake of serving one of the other peregrinos at the communal dinner we had. He dished up some (wonderful!) vegetable soup for someone who wasn´t sitting too close to the serving bowl, and the host walked up, spoke to him in rapid Spanish, and took the soup and dumped it back in the serving bowl. No serving anyone else. A little difficult for some of us to fit into our "servant of Christ" mentalities, for sure! Fortunately, he hadn´t caught me serving both Marty and Emlyn--and we made sure we grabbed only for ourselves after that!
Dinner was kind of a hoot, over all. I paid for a meal for Marty and Niles as well, and they walked over from their albergue to join us. We all sat down to eat at long tables a little after 8:00 p.m. It was crowded, with a true polyglot of languages flying around. Marty was unfortunately closer to the German-speakers than to the English-speakers, but we all had fun anyway. Jorge and Raphaela were with us again, but Sara had decided she wasn´t feeling well and really needed some quiet and private space, so she ended up moving her things to a hotel in town. (She´d been afraid to say anything to the host about wanting to leave, and when he found out she wasn´t feeling well he offered her a room in the infirmary area. But she declined, and when he understood she was just emotionally worn out and wanted quiet and privacy, he drove her to the hotel himself.)
After dinner, several of us, including Jorge, Raphaela, Rob (the guy from Georgia), and two other guys (from Scotland and Italy) all decided to go out for wine. We eventually gathered at a cafe in the main plaze, where several of us decided on hot chocolate (which pretty much tasted like a hot, melted cup of semi-sweet chocolate bar--just, wow) and churros. Rob was asking Jorge what he had gotten from the Camino when he walked it before, and Jorge talked a lot about the amazing energy of the Camino, and the experience of meeting someone at the end, in Santiago. He said, even if you´ve never spoken to them before but you´ve seen them walking along, when you meet in Santiago you just grab each other with a "We made it!" hug.
Rob is very interested in how people use the Camino as a spiritual practice. I eventually learned from him that he has attended a wide variety of churches--Presbyterian, Episcopal, Methodist, Gospel, etc.--and he´s ended up very dissatisfied with all of them. He´s tired of churches where people put on a facade of looking good, but don´t do much beyond just show up. He has now started a house church, where he says they have only one rule: you have to be honest. You have to be honest about who you are, what you do, what you think and believe. He says, if you´ve had a bad day you can come and swear over what a lousy day you´ve had. If you´ve had a good day you can come and say that you´ve had a good day. But you can´t put up a false front, or mislead the other people. He says they´ve told a few folks to leave the church because they weren´t honest--and there are plenty of other churches that will welcome them. He said it´s not really part of the emergent church movement, because they´re more grounded in the tradition than emergent churches--although I´m not sure "emergent" really means non-traditional in that respect. But I think I get his drift. He´s looking for authentic community, couldn´t find it, and decided to gather it himself.
Interesting.
I had hoped to talk with him a bit more today, but haven´t seen him. At one point, when he was describing his community´s insistence on honesty, I said, "You mean you´re actually expecting people to stop worrying about going to church and start actually thinking about being the Church?" His response was, "Ah, I see you get it." He´s interested in the Camino because he´s teaching some classes on spiritual disciplines (he´s actually gone to the ELCA website, and said, "you guys have some great resources on there."), and ran across a reference to the Camino in a book on spiritual disciplines. We talked a little bit about prayer labyrinths, and the practice of using them, which he wasn´t familiar with. The guy from Italy talked about the fact that he and his wife are both walking the Camino, but 3 weeks apart, to give themselves space to meditate on some of the issues they face in their lives. Intriguing conversations, all around.
This morning we slept late, since our eccentric host proclaims "pilgrim sleep is sacred sleep" and the doors don´t open until 7:00. We knew we had a short, easy walk today. We could have taken a more strenuous path up the mountains (with a rise of almost 1000 feet) which the guidebook said is much more beautiful than the walk along the highway (proclaimed "boring"), but we opted to save ourselves some strain. Actually, the walk today was very lovely. The weather remains very nice--sometimes almost too cool in the shade. And the walk, even though along a highway on our right, also followed the most delightful river, which flowed and burbled with rapids and the occasional waterful to the extent that it was louder, sometimes, than the highway noise. It was very beautiful, and we walked along it most of the way. So I just kept my eyes, most of the time, to the left, where my mind could rest on the green and the sparkle and the shape of the stones under the water. Lovely, lovely.
We are entering the region of Galicia, and it is so very beautiful here. The town we came to is small and quaint, as is the albergue we are staying at. The kitchen, just outside our dorm room, is actually open to the outside--like cooking and eating on a balcony. We had a very nice, simple meal this evening, which we lingered over. Jorge dropped by earlier to day, and was eating a late lunch with some new friends before going on to meet Raphaela (they are both very flexible people!), and he continues to linger. I talked with him just a bit before Marty, Emlyn, Niles and I left to come into town for ice cream (and internet blogging), and I mentioned the questions I have been asking--especially young people--about their experience of the Church, and God, and faith, and their lives. He said, "I was considering just staying here tonight. Now I´m definitely staying." I´d love to talk with him some more and hear what he has to say; he´s obviously a young man with a lot of love for life, and for people, and I´d like to hear what he thinks. But he is indeed a free spirit, so we´ll see if he´s decided to move on or not when we get back.
The four of us have had a better day today. My tendonitis is still tender, and I can see the swelling around the tendon, but it´s ok. Emlyn not only has blisters, but she has developed a second blister directly under a first-layer blister, and today discovered that she had yet a third blister under the second blister. They are literally right under each other, between her toes, and I have no idea how she has gotten them there. But she´s managing. The shorter, more restful days have been really good for us, and we´re learning to not feel like we´re not accomplishing enough on these 4-hour days. Giving ourselves a bit more rest, a bit more time to just experience the communities and the people, is really giving me a lift. It´s amazing to think we have only a little over a week of walking left.
I am needing to make sure I keep myself focused in staying in the now, and not start thinking about either how much I want to get home, or how much I´m not ready to go home. It doesn´t matter. What matters is receiving the amazing blessing this day is bringing. Not whether I missed anything by not walking the high route, or by not seeing Raphaela again, or connecting with any of the Camino friends we left behind--but walking and breathing the blessing that is absolutely everywhere I look. Amazing and wonderful.
Blessings on your Camino this day!
Dinner was kind of a hoot, over all. I paid for a meal for Marty and Niles as well, and they walked over from their albergue to join us. We all sat down to eat at long tables a little after 8:00 p.m. It was crowded, with a true polyglot of languages flying around. Marty was unfortunately closer to the German-speakers than to the English-speakers, but we all had fun anyway. Jorge and Raphaela were with us again, but Sara had decided she wasn´t feeling well and really needed some quiet and private space, so she ended up moving her things to a hotel in town. (She´d been afraid to say anything to the host about wanting to leave, and when he found out she wasn´t feeling well he offered her a room in the infirmary area. But she declined, and when he understood she was just emotionally worn out and wanted quiet and privacy, he drove her to the hotel himself.)
After dinner, several of us, including Jorge, Raphaela, Rob (the guy from Georgia), and two other guys (from Scotland and Italy) all decided to go out for wine. We eventually gathered at a cafe in the main plaze, where several of us decided on hot chocolate (which pretty much tasted like a hot, melted cup of semi-sweet chocolate bar--just, wow) and churros. Rob was asking Jorge what he had gotten from the Camino when he walked it before, and Jorge talked a lot about the amazing energy of the Camino, and the experience of meeting someone at the end, in Santiago. He said, even if you´ve never spoken to them before but you´ve seen them walking along, when you meet in Santiago you just grab each other with a "We made it!" hug.
Rob is very interested in how people use the Camino as a spiritual practice. I eventually learned from him that he has attended a wide variety of churches--Presbyterian, Episcopal, Methodist, Gospel, etc.--and he´s ended up very dissatisfied with all of them. He´s tired of churches where people put on a facade of looking good, but don´t do much beyond just show up. He has now started a house church, where he says they have only one rule: you have to be honest. You have to be honest about who you are, what you do, what you think and believe. He says, if you´ve had a bad day you can come and swear over what a lousy day you´ve had. If you´ve had a good day you can come and say that you´ve had a good day. But you can´t put up a false front, or mislead the other people. He says they´ve told a few folks to leave the church because they weren´t honest--and there are plenty of other churches that will welcome them. He said it´s not really part of the emergent church movement, because they´re more grounded in the tradition than emergent churches--although I´m not sure "emergent" really means non-traditional in that respect. But I think I get his drift. He´s looking for authentic community, couldn´t find it, and decided to gather it himself.
Interesting.
I had hoped to talk with him a bit more today, but haven´t seen him. At one point, when he was describing his community´s insistence on honesty, I said, "You mean you´re actually expecting people to stop worrying about going to church and start actually thinking about being the Church?" His response was, "Ah, I see you get it." He´s interested in the Camino because he´s teaching some classes on spiritual disciplines (he´s actually gone to the ELCA website, and said, "you guys have some great resources on there."), and ran across a reference to the Camino in a book on spiritual disciplines. We talked a little bit about prayer labyrinths, and the practice of using them, which he wasn´t familiar with. The guy from Italy talked about the fact that he and his wife are both walking the Camino, but 3 weeks apart, to give themselves space to meditate on some of the issues they face in their lives. Intriguing conversations, all around.
This morning we slept late, since our eccentric host proclaims "pilgrim sleep is sacred sleep" and the doors don´t open until 7:00. We knew we had a short, easy walk today. We could have taken a more strenuous path up the mountains (with a rise of almost 1000 feet) which the guidebook said is much more beautiful than the walk along the highway (proclaimed "boring"), but we opted to save ourselves some strain. Actually, the walk today was very lovely. The weather remains very nice--sometimes almost too cool in the shade. And the walk, even though along a highway on our right, also followed the most delightful river, which flowed and burbled with rapids and the occasional waterful to the extent that it was louder, sometimes, than the highway noise. It was very beautiful, and we walked along it most of the way. So I just kept my eyes, most of the time, to the left, where my mind could rest on the green and the sparkle and the shape of the stones under the water. Lovely, lovely.
We are entering the region of Galicia, and it is so very beautiful here. The town we came to is small and quaint, as is the albergue we are staying at. The kitchen, just outside our dorm room, is actually open to the outside--like cooking and eating on a balcony. We had a very nice, simple meal this evening, which we lingered over. Jorge dropped by earlier to day, and was eating a late lunch with some new friends before going on to meet Raphaela (they are both very flexible people!), and he continues to linger. I talked with him just a bit before Marty, Emlyn, Niles and I left to come into town for ice cream (and internet blogging), and I mentioned the questions I have been asking--especially young people--about their experience of the Church, and God, and faith, and their lives. He said, "I was considering just staying here tonight. Now I´m definitely staying." I´d love to talk with him some more and hear what he has to say; he´s obviously a young man with a lot of love for life, and for people, and I´d like to hear what he thinks. But he is indeed a free spirit, so we´ll see if he´s decided to move on or not when we get back.
The four of us have had a better day today. My tendonitis is still tender, and I can see the swelling around the tendon, but it´s ok. Emlyn not only has blisters, but she has developed a second blister directly under a first-layer blister, and today discovered that she had yet a third blister under the second blister. They are literally right under each other, between her toes, and I have no idea how she has gotten them there. But she´s managing. The shorter, more restful days have been really good for us, and we´re learning to not feel like we´re not accomplishing enough on these 4-hour days. Giving ourselves a bit more rest, a bit more time to just experience the communities and the people, is really giving me a lift. It´s amazing to think we have only a little over a week of walking left.
I am needing to make sure I keep myself focused in staying in the now, and not start thinking about either how much I want to get home, or how much I´m not ready to go home. It doesn´t matter. What matters is receiving the amazing blessing this day is bringing. Not whether I missed anything by not walking the high route, or by not seeing Raphaela again, or connecting with any of the Camino friends we left behind--but walking and breathing the blessing that is absolutely everywhere I look. Amazing and wonderful.
Blessings on your Camino this day!
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
July 21: Ponferrada to Villafranca del Bierzo
Well, friends, yesterday´s blog is just gone. I spent an hour writing last night, close to the cutoff time of 10:00. A sign above the computers warned us that the computers shut off automatically at 10:00; I was just writing the last line at 9:56 when everything went blank. Before I saved it. Yup, it´s gone. Suffice it to say that we had a nice short day yesterday--we walked only 8 K from Molinaseca to Ponferrada, and spend the day there visiting with Jorge, Raphaela, Sara and some new friends over coffee, then sleeping and/or shopping for food, and the visiting the Templar castle in the town. (It was begun in the 13 C to protect pilgrims from bandits, and later confiscated by other lords and expanded to more palatial dimensions.)
Last evening the albergue was very crowded. Emlyn cooked dinner for us, but the kitchen was so crowded none of us could actually help her. Niles and I sat outside with our feet in the fountain (we love the albergues with cold foot baths or fountains!) and chatted with some new friends. We are finding that we are beginning to feel pretty weary, as are others on the journey.
Today we left at 6:30 in the morning to walk about 23 K to Villafranca del Bierzo. The first part of the day was through suburbs--one of which was rather disturbingly similar to a suburb in the US. (We saw others looking around in some dismay, actually.) After that we got into more rural, and hence much more beautiful, areas. The mountains are surrounding us, with rolling fields planted with vineyards and wheatfields between. It was at times a strenuous walk, but the weather was much better today--only about 75 with a good breeze while we were walking. I spent part of the morning walking with Ingrid, a woman from Germany who must be in her late 60´s.
I was a little surprised to find myself struggling more with the tendonitis and neuroma today, since with the exception of a few climbs the walk was fairly level. However, much of the walk was on concrete--and that´s always a problem for me. Marty was struggling again with blisters, and Emlyn had a bit of an upset stomach, and Niles was just feeling a tad weary--we weren´t necessarily at our most chipper again. But we made pretty good time, stopped for coffee or cold drinks a couple of times, and managed with no major problems.
The guidebook I have listed a couple of albergues in Villafranca--the municipal albergue, and another albergue run by a man who is a bit of a legend on the Camino. He runs the Refugio Ave Fénix de Familia Jato, a refugio that he is rebuilding after it burned in 1996. The guide said that he´s a bit eccentric--you can´t leave before 7:00 a.m., pilgrims are not allowed to do any work, and there is a separate room for people over 50.
Niles and Marty said they weren´t in the mood for "eccentric," but Emlyn and I were, so we opted to split up for the night (the albergues are just across the street from each other). Em and I pretty much fell in love with the place as soon as we walked in. We were put in a room only for women (sorry, guys, but that probably means a lot fewer snorers), and I didn´t get relegated to the room for old people, which was so very encouraging for me! It was interesting to me--again--that I felt a definite sense of this place that is very different from some of the albergues that are run mainly for profit. I´ve heard that the man who runs this one has a gift for healing; there´s definitely a sense of wholeness in the atmosphere here.
After we cleaned up and did laundry, we went to find Marty and Niles for lunch. As we were leaving we met up with Sara again. She, Raphaela and Jorge had thought of going further today, but she fell and cut her knee, and they all decided to just call it a day. I was delighted to see them, and we agreed to have dinner together.
The Eastman clan went to the town center for a late lunch (wonderful thin-crust pizza), and by the end of it Marty, Niles and Emlyn were all feeling the need for a nap. Since I napped for two hours yesterday while they went out shopping and exploring, I´m feeling a little more energetic. I found Rapaela sitting outside when we got back to the albergue, so Emlyn went in to sleep while I sat to chat.
Another delightful conversation. I learned that Raphaela is a child psychologist and has been practicing for about a year, focusing in play therapy. She loves what she does, and I can only imagine that she must be very, very good at it. She just radiates welcome and this delightful energy; I can well imagine children opening up to her so easily.
She spoke again about how wonderful she thinks the work our church is doing is, and wondered about what it was like to be "one small church trying to do good in such a big world.¨ I talked with her about my sense that the Holy Spirit is moving in the Church for good things, and the encouragment I find from my colleagues and church leaders, and she thought that was a wonderful thing. In her church, she said, it´s all ¨just boring. No connection to people or their lives--they just seem to think they should keep doing what they have always done.¨ She did attend an "evangelical" church service once, which she really liked, and she is thinking maybe she should give church another chance.
Well, I´m about out of euros and time, so I will wrap up. Again, a good day with unexpected blessings returning, unexpected challenges, and a sense of looking forward to what will happen next. I do love this!
Blessings and peace to all.
Last evening the albergue was very crowded. Emlyn cooked dinner for us, but the kitchen was so crowded none of us could actually help her. Niles and I sat outside with our feet in the fountain (we love the albergues with cold foot baths or fountains!) and chatted with some new friends. We are finding that we are beginning to feel pretty weary, as are others on the journey.
Today we left at 6:30 in the morning to walk about 23 K to Villafranca del Bierzo. The first part of the day was through suburbs--one of which was rather disturbingly similar to a suburb in the US. (We saw others looking around in some dismay, actually.) After that we got into more rural, and hence much more beautiful, areas. The mountains are surrounding us, with rolling fields planted with vineyards and wheatfields between. It was at times a strenuous walk, but the weather was much better today--only about 75 with a good breeze while we were walking. I spent part of the morning walking with Ingrid, a woman from Germany who must be in her late 60´s.
I was a little surprised to find myself struggling more with the tendonitis and neuroma today, since with the exception of a few climbs the walk was fairly level. However, much of the walk was on concrete--and that´s always a problem for me. Marty was struggling again with blisters, and Emlyn had a bit of an upset stomach, and Niles was just feeling a tad weary--we weren´t necessarily at our most chipper again. But we made pretty good time, stopped for coffee or cold drinks a couple of times, and managed with no major problems.
The guidebook I have listed a couple of albergues in Villafranca--the municipal albergue, and another albergue run by a man who is a bit of a legend on the Camino. He runs the Refugio Ave Fénix de Familia Jato, a refugio that he is rebuilding after it burned in 1996. The guide said that he´s a bit eccentric--you can´t leave before 7:00 a.m., pilgrims are not allowed to do any work, and there is a separate room for people over 50.
Niles and Marty said they weren´t in the mood for "eccentric," but Emlyn and I were, so we opted to split up for the night (the albergues are just across the street from each other). Em and I pretty much fell in love with the place as soon as we walked in. We were put in a room only for women (sorry, guys, but that probably means a lot fewer snorers), and I didn´t get relegated to the room for old people, which was so very encouraging for me! It was interesting to me--again--that I felt a definite sense of this place that is very different from some of the albergues that are run mainly for profit. I´ve heard that the man who runs this one has a gift for healing; there´s definitely a sense of wholeness in the atmosphere here.
After we cleaned up and did laundry, we went to find Marty and Niles for lunch. As we were leaving we met up with Sara again. She, Raphaela and Jorge had thought of going further today, but she fell and cut her knee, and they all decided to just call it a day. I was delighted to see them, and we agreed to have dinner together.
The Eastman clan went to the town center for a late lunch (wonderful thin-crust pizza), and by the end of it Marty, Niles and Emlyn were all feeling the need for a nap. Since I napped for two hours yesterday while they went out shopping and exploring, I´m feeling a little more energetic. I found Rapaela sitting outside when we got back to the albergue, so Emlyn went in to sleep while I sat to chat.
Another delightful conversation. I learned that Raphaela is a child psychologist and has been practicing for about a year, focusing in play therapy. She loves what she does, and I can only imagine that she must be very, very good at it. She just radiates welcome and this delightful energy; I can well imagine children opening up to her so easily.
She spoke again about how wonderful she thinks the work our church is doing is, and wondered about what it was like to be "one small church trying to do good in such a big world.¨ I talked with her about my sense that the Holy Spirit is moving in the Church for good things, and the encouragment I find from my colleagues and church leaders, and she thought that was a wonderful thing. In her church, she said, it´s all ¨just boring. No connection to people or their lives--they just seem to think they should keep doing what they have always done.¨ She did attend an "evangelical" church service once, which she really liked, and she is thinking maybe she should give church another chance.
Well, I´m about out of euros and time, so I will wrap up. Again, a good day with unexpected blessings returning, unexpected challenges, and a sense of looking forward to what will happen next. I do love this!
Blessings and peace to all.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
July 19: Rabanal to Molinaseca
Have I mentioned before that all these posts are written under time restrictions? Internet is, of course, so many minutes for a euro--so all of this stuff is really very much stream of consciousness, full of misspellings, and not edited at all. I still am not managing to get everything that happens in the day down. I do as much as I can, but thought you should know you´re getting this pretty much as I think it.
Just before bedtime on July 18, in Rabanal, I met the hosteleros of the other albergue in town. They speak English (British), and they invited me to walk over to see their albergue. They are volunteer hosteleros, giving their time to serve pilgrims because they have walked the Camino. The albergue we stayed at was very nice, but it was one of those being run by the owner, for profit. She was quite gracious and helpful--but there is indeed a difference in the atmosphere when you hit those places being staffed by people who truly are doing this service as a--well--service. It´s not unusual to see hosteleros in these albergues bandaging and bathing very ugly, very messy, very funky pilgrim feet.
I walked over with them while we chatted, and they were such delightful, gracious people I felt like I´d already known them forever. Their albergue was much smaller, but also very nice. While I was there I ran into Jorge. He showed me a little of the albergue, and his one-erson tent which he´s using on the Camino, and we chatted a short while, but it was getting late and I had to get back to my albergue before the doors closed at 11:00. Since I have a bad tendency to get hopelessly lost in these towns, Jorge walked me back, saying he needed to visit someone anyway.
We knew our day from Rabanal to Molinaseca was going to be hard--the guide book estimated walking time of 7 1/2 hours--so we planned to get up and out really early, stopping about 5 1/2 k out for breakfast. We got up at 5:00, and I went into the courtyard to pack up. The sun wasn´t rising yet, and this was the first time I had been outside at full dark when I wasn´t in a city. The stars were simply beautiful, and that seemed like a very, very good start.
We headed out of town in the dark, pretty much relying on the light packed gravel of the Camino to guide us, since there were very few lights. We got out into the country quickly, and walking was wonderful for a while.
Before long, though, we hit high open plains--and flies. Lots of flies. Lots and lots and lots of swarming flies. At the same time, we noticed that while the air was fairly cool, we could feel heat still radiating up from the ground (the day before had been pretty hot). As the sun came up (beautiful), the flies increased (not beautiful). I eventually had to get a bandana out to cover my ears to keep them from being bitten, and I spent the walk constantly batting away around my face and neck. It was pretty miserable. I could hear Niles muttering behind me; the flies were pretty much driving him crazy as well.
When we stopped for breakfast, getting inside was a blessing. We were already pouring with sweat by 7:00--not a good sign--but the biggest thing was getting away from the majority of the flies. The cafe we stopped at was also an albergue, and had a combination of Christian and Buddhist art and images, along with a really large singing bowl on a shelf that I really wanted to take down and listen to, but I didn´t.
By the time we stopped for breakfast, we had climbed almost 1000 feet in less than 3 miles. Tough, steep, and fly-ridden--and that accounted for the first 1/5th of the day. We were no longer in the best of moods.
I was, however, looking forward to the next piece, which was a much easier stretch that would take us to the Iron Cross, or Pilgrim´s Cross. This is the place I had been looking forward to going to from the very beginning. There is a tall pole with an iron cross on the top (a later addition), but for me the impressive part was the huge mound that has been formed by 10 centuries of pilgrims bringing rocks and pebbles from their homes and laying them, together, in this place. The top was filled with scribbled messages, prayers, rocks with names and dates and prayers painted on them. The pole, too, was covered with ribbons and notes that had been tied around it. Most people I´ve talked to have indeed brought pebbles from home; those who didn´t picked up a pebble somewhere here to add to the mound. It was an odd combination of power and tourism--I, along with just about everyone else, wanted my picture taken while laying the pebbles I had brought from home. (I brought more than one, carrying prayers for some dear friends along with mine. Feeling that sense of actually carrying prayers has meant a lot to me on this trip.) This actually has been more impressive to me than all of the magnificent cathedrals along the way.
After we left the Pilgrim´s Cross, we had another 17.5 K to go--downhill. Now, downhill sounds really great--until it´s the kind of downhill that takes you down almost 1000 feet over very little distance. This was absolutely grueling. The surface was very uneven rock, and both my tendonitis and my neuroma began complaining almost immediately. I ended up going slower and slower, and Marty, Emlyn and Niles ended up out of sight. I had to stop at just about every step and figure out where I was going to put my feet where it would cause the least pressure. Even then, I began having muscle spasms in my thigh from the stress of trying to protect the already-sore bits. On top of this, it was almost unbearably hot. I was very glad that I didn´t know until much later that the temps were well over 100 degrees; that would have made it even worse.
I walked this part alone. There was a grandson and grandfather behind me, but they were having as much difficulty as I was, so they didn´t catch up. This was not my favorite part of the Camino, needless to say. Even my attempts to pray just got absorbed by pain and anxiety; I had received a message from Tycho, a Camino friend who had gone ahead, that there were two people in his albergue who had broken legs on this portion of the route. That kept running through my head every time I felt my leg spasm while I was trying to negotiate another step down a jumble of rocks.
Obviously, I made it. As I walked into town, the fam was waiting in the shade just at the outskirts. I was on the other side of the street, and when they called to me I didn´t even hear them. (I was, however, wearing earbuds and listening to music which helps me walk through the most challenging bits--but I was still pretty zoned out.)
We got to the albergue, showered, did laundry, and went to a cafe for cold drinks before dinner, which we ended up eating at the same cafe. When we were returning to the alberge, I heard someone hailing us--it was John, who I had talked with in the morning the day I was stuck in Castrojeritz while Emlyn and Niles walked ahead. It was so very cool to reconnect, and we´re hoping we meet in a day or two. He was going farther than we on the 20th, but in a few days we should end up in the same place. One more lesson of receiving, and letting go, and receiving....
As soon as wel left John, we passed Jorge--again, who we had hoped to connect with but missed during the day. He was staying at the other albergue, and invited me down to chat with him while he made his dinner. (I had had a long conversation with his girlfriend Rapheala, but really haven´t had a chance to talk with him much.) Jorge had spent 13 hours walking that day, because he has made so many friends along the Camino and stops to visit all of them when he walks through.
When I walked down to his albergue, I discovered that it has about 20-30 of its beds outside--under a roof, but very much out on a porch. Jorge was actually sleeping in his 1-person tent, but I met up with Sara and Raphaela, who introduced me to Inga. Inga gave me some ointment for my shinsplints which she didn´t need anymore, which she said was much better than what I had. (It seems to be doing wonders, by the way. I do love Camino culture!!)
As I talked with Sara and Raphaela, I confessed that I had blogged about our conversations the day before, and apologized for the fact that I am writing what I can remember, but might not be getting everything right, or may be inferring things they didn´t actually mean. They both said that was quite all right, and asked for the info on the blog so they can read it--so please know they have permission to post corrections at any point!
Meeting these folks has been such a joy. They are all so gracious, so much fun to be with. Very spontaneous, very welcoming. Jorge talked with me some about my struggles with having to take 5 days off, and reminded me that you don´t walk the Camino. The Camino lets you travel it--or not. Anyone who comes in here thinking they´re going to take control of the agenda is going to be learning differently.
We talked about meeting up the next day for breakfast, and possibly walking together. (That´s going to have to be another whole entry--I´m a day behind at this point.) Then I headed in for bed. Again, our albergue was very nice--quite new, actually, with wood floors and lovely rooms. Our room had 8 peregrinos in it, including the young man and his grandfather who had arrived after I did.
We didn´t realize that we ordered the room with snorer. We´ve had snorers before--I have heavy-duty gun-range level earplugs--but this guy topped them all. Not only did we get the turbo-charged snorer, we got the luxery edition with the special snort feature. My earplugs were pretty much useless. I feel bad about even writing this, because the snorer was the grandfather who had been having such a hard time. (I´ll have to be careful not to be too friendly, or he´ll friend me on FB and end up reading this!) But we did strategize on how we would make sure we were not in the same room the next night--because we needed sleep.
We decided that we would walk only 5.5 K the next day, as far as a pretty large city called Ponferrada, which has a castle originally built by the Templars to guard pilgrims from bandits. After the day we had, we decided a rest day was in order--and walking only 5.5 K in the cool of the morning now qualifies. More on the next day in the next blog.
Blessings and peace!
Just before bedtime on July 18, in Rabanal, I met the hosteleros of the other albergue in town. They speak English (British), and they invited me to walk over to see their albergue. They are volunteer hosteleros, giving their time to serve pilgrims because they have walked the Camino. The albergue we stayed at was very nice, but it was one of those being run by the owner, for profit. She was quite gracious and helpful--but there is indeed a difference in the atmosphere when you hit those places being staffed by people who truly are doing this service as a--well--service. It´s not unusual to see hosteleros in these albergues bandaging and bathing very ugly, very messy, very funky pilgrim feet.
I walked over with them while we chatted, and they were such delightful, gracious people I felt like I´d already known them forever. Their albergue was much smaller, but also very nice. While I was there I ran into Jorge. He showed me a little of the albergue, and his one-erson tent which he´s using on the Camino, and we chatted a short while, but it was getting late and I had to get back to my albergue before the doors closed at 11:00. Since I have a bad tendency to get hopelessly lost in these towns, Jorge walked me back, saying he needed to visit someone anyway.
We knew our day from Rabanal to Molinaseca was going to be hard--the guide book estimated walking time of 7 1/2 hours--so we planned to get up and out really early, stopping about 5 1/2 k out for breakfast. We got up at 5:00, and I went into the courtyard to pack up. The sun wasn´t rising yet, and this was the first time I had been outside at full dark when I wasn´t in a city. The stars were simply beautiful, and that seemed like a very, very good start.
We headed out of town in the dark, pretty much relying on the light packed gravel of the Camino to guide us, since there were very few lights. We got out into the country quickly, and walking was wonderful for a while.
Before long, though, we hit high open plains--and flies. Lots of flies. Lots and lots and lots of swarming flies. At the same time, we noticed that while the air was fairly cool, we could feel heat still radiating up from the ground (the day before had been pretty hot). As the sun came up (beautiful), the flies increased (not beautiful). I eventually had to get a bandana out to cover my ears to keep them from being bitten, and I spent the walk constantly batting away around my face and neck. It was pretty miserable. I could hear Niles muttering behind me; the flies were pretty much driving him crazy as well.
When we stopped for breakfast, getting inside was a blessing. We were already pouring with sweat by 7:00--not a good sign--but the biggest thing was getting away from the majority of the flies. The cafe we stopped at was also an albergue, and had a combination of Christian and Buddhist art and images, along with a really large singing bowl on a shelf that I really wanted to take down and listen to, but I didn´t.
By the time we stopped for breakfast, we had climbed almost 1000 feet in less than 3 miles. Tough, steep, and fly-ridden--and that accounted for the first 1/5th of the day. We were no longer in the best of moods.
I was, however, looking forward to the next piece, which was a much easier stretch that would take us to the Iron Cross, or Pilgrim´s Cross. This is the place I had been looking forward to going to from the very beginning. There is a tall pole with an iron cross on the top (a later addition), but for me the impressive part was the huge mound that has been formed by 10 centuries of pilgrims bringing rocks and pebbles from their homes and laying them, together, in this place. The top was filled with scribbled messages, prayers, rocks with names and dates and prayers painted on them. The pole, too, was covered with ribbons and notes that had been tied around it. Most people I´ve talked to have indeed brought pebbles from home; those who didn´t picked up a pebble somewhere here to add to the mound. It was an odd combination of power and tourism--I, along with just about everyone else, wanted my picture taken while laying the pebbles I had brought from home. (I brought more than one, carrying prayers for some dear friends along with mine. Feeling that sense of actually carrying prayers has meant a lot to me on this trip.) This actually has been more impressive to me than all of the magnificent cathedrals along the way.
After we left the Pilgrim´s Cross, we had another 17.5 K to go--downhill. Now, downhill sounds really great--until it´s the kind of downhill that takes you down almost 1000 feet over very little distance. This was absolutely grueling. The surface was very uneven rock, and both my tendonitis and my neuroma began complaining almost immediately. I ended up going slower and slower, and Marty, Emlyn and Niles ended up out of sight. I had to stop at just about every step and figure out where I was going to put my feet where it would cause the least pressure. Even then, I began having muscle spasms in my thigh from the stress of trying to protect the already-sore bits. On top of this, it was almost unbearably hot. I was very glad that I didn´t know until much later that the temps were well over 100 degrees; that would have made it even worse.
I walked this part alone. There was a grandson and grandfather behind me, but they were having as much difficulty as I was, so they didn´t catch up. This was not my favorite part of the Camino, needless to say. Even my attempts to pray just got absorbed by pain and anxiety; I had received a message from Tycho, a Camino friend who had gone ahead, that there were two people in his albergue who had broken legs on this portion of the route. That kept running through my head every time I felt my leg spasm while I was trying to negotiate another step down a jumble of rocks.
Obviously, I made it. As I walked into town, the fam was waiting in the shade just at the outskirts. I was on the other side of the street, and when they called to me I didn´t even hear them. (I was, however, wearing earbuds and listening to music which helps me walk through the most challenging bits--but I was still pretty zoned out.)
We got to the albergue, showered, did laundry, and went to a cafe for cold drinks before dinner, which we ended up eating at the same cafe. When we were returning to the alberge, I heard someone hailing us--it was John, who I had talked with in the morning the day I was stuck in Castrojeritz while Emlyn and Niles walked ahead. It was so very cool to reconnect, and we´re hoping we meet in a day or two. He was going farther than we on the 20th, but in a few days we should end up in the same place. One more lesson of receiving, and letting go, and receiving....
As soon as wel left John, we passed Jorge--again, who we had hoped to connect with but missed during the day. He was staying at the other albergue, and invited me down to chat with him while he made his dinner. (I had had a long conversation with his girlfriend Rapheala, but really haven´t had a chance to talk with him much.) Jorge had spent 13 hours walking that day, because he has made so many friends along the Camino and stops to visit all of them when he walks through.
When I walked down to his albergue, I discovered that it has about 20-30 of its beds outside--under a roof, but very much out on a porch. Jorge was actually sleeping in his 1-person tent, but I met up with Sara and Raphaela, who introduced me to Inga. Inga gave me some ointment for my shinsplints which she didn´t need anymore, which she said was much better than what I had. (It seems to be doing wonders, by the way. I do love Camino culture!!)
As I talked with Sara and Raphaela, I confessed that I had blogged about our conversations the day before, and apologized for the fact that I am writing what I can remember, but might not be getting everything right, or may be inferring things they didn´t actually mean. They both said that was quite all right, and asked for the info on the blog so they can read it--so please know they have permission to post corrections at any point!
Meeting these folks has been such a joy. They are all so gracious, so much fun to be with. Very spontaneous, very welcoming. Jorge talked with me some about my struggles with having to take 5 days off, and reminded me that you don´t walk the Camino. The Camino lets you travel it--or not. Anyone who comes in here thinking they´re going to take control of the agenda is going to be learning differently.
We talked about meeting up the next day for breakfast, and possibly walking together. (That´s going to have to be another whole entry--I´m a day behind at this point.) Then I headed in for bed. Again, our albergue was very nice--quite new, actually, with wood floors and lovely rooms. Our room had 8 peregrinos in it, including the young man and his grandfather who had arrived after I did.
We didn´t realize that we ordered the room with snorer. We´ve had snorers before--I have heavy-duty gun-range level earplugs--but this guy topped them all. Not only did we get the turbo-charged snorer, we got the luxery edition with the special snort feature. My earplugs were pretty much useless. I feel bad about even writing this, because the snorer was the grandfather who had been having such a hard time. (I´ll have to be careful not to be too friendly, or he´ll friend me on FB and end up reading this!) But we did strategize on how we would make sure we were not in the same room the next night--because we needed sleep.
We decided that we would walk only 5.5 K the next day, as far as a pretty large city called Ponferrada, which has a castle originally built by the Templars to guard pilgrims from bandits. After the day we had, we decided a rest day was in order--and walking only 5.5 K in the cool of the morning now qualifies. More on the next day in the next blog.
Blessings and peace!
Sunday, July 18, 2010
July 18: Astorga to Rabanal
It´s the sabbath, so to celebrate we had an easy day of only 20 k, with only slight hills. (Yesterday´s hike translated to about 17.5 miles; todays comes out, I think, to about 12.5.)
The albergue yesterday was, as I said, lovely. An old building of several floors, and these beautiful wood ceilings. But every time someone on the floor above us walked, they CREAKED. So it was a pretty loud night, and we had a few snorers again, so it wasn´t the most restful. But we allowed ourselves to sleep in until 6:00 a.m., which felt like quite a luxery.
We started with a simple breakfast of coffee, muffins and BiFructa, a blend of fruit juice and milk I swore I would never try, but which turns out to be absolutely delicious. (The label says, "Fruit juice and milk works!" Es verdad.) We got out the door pretty late for us--about 7:30. Emlyn and Niles again headed out a bit before Marty and I, assuming they would walk ahead and meet us at our destination albergue.
Marty and I enjoyed the early morning walk in the cool (quite cool--it felt good to move) and just chatted about all kinds of things for a while. My legs felt better than they had in a while. For once, the neuroma was more painful than the shinsplint, which is a development I never imagined myself actually welcoming, but which is actually pretty nicely managable.
As we were walking we heard some travelers coming up behind us, and as I moved aside to let them pass Marty said, "I thought I recognized those shapes." (They were backlit.) It was Niles and Emlyn; they had gotten lost getting out of Astorga and were just catching us up. So we had a chance to walk together a while.
As we were walking, we passed a young couple by the side of the rode, and shared the traditional Camino greeting. The young woman I recognized from a conversation in the albergue the night before, when I warned her not to leave her camera untended because of the recent thefts. When we said "Buen Camino!" this morning, her companion shouted, "Oh my God, Americans! Wait! I want to walk with you!" She just looked at us and smiled and said, "This is my boyfriend. He´s crazy!" We did general introductions, and chatted for a bit about where everyone was from (him, Spain; her, Austria), and talked about the possibility of meeting up down the Camino for coffee at a cafe.
We stopped in the second village we passed through, at about 9:30, for the morning coffee break, and before long they came along. I had finished my coffee, and we were almost ready to start walking again, but a German friend of theirs also came up looking for a map. I offered them mine (which I then realized they didn´t need because they already had one), and we started chatting. In the course of that conversation it came out that I´m a pastor, and I eventually asked if I could walk with them a while and continue the conversation we were having. So Marty, Niles and Em went on, and I waited a bit with Raphaela and Jorgé. We were soon joined by another friend of theirs from Germany--Sara. They were all very energetic, very happy to chat, very funny, and very willing to talk with me about religion and church and all that stuff.
For a while I walked mainly with Raphaela, and she wanted to know what I do with my day, what I teach, etc. We wandered all over the place, theologically speaking, and she, like just about every young person I met, said that she didn´t go to church very much. Young people don´t, she said, especially with all the big problems in the church--clergy abuse and such. She, too, said the church doesn´t listen to the people, and only worries about its traditions, not about people´s lives.
When I described life in the church at St. Paul, she was surprised and thought it sounded wonderful. She wasn´t in any way against the idea of God, but didn´t find much in the church that helped her understand God.
I´m not sure exactly how it happened--maybe at a fountain to refill with water--but eventually I switched to talking with Sara. Tried out a little German , which they said was excellent, but I had to try to convince them that even if they thought my accent was great, my ability to understand was pretty bad. We stuck with English.
Sara, too, was interested in what the church is like where I come from. She likes church, she said, and she believes in God, but she has a lot of questions. She goes once in a while but not very often, but she wishes more young people did go, and that she had friends to go with. She thought if the worship had more variety in the music, that would help. She had a pastor who she thought was a pretty good speaker--but didn´t see the church really trying to engage the world very much.
She is walking the Camino to see if she can find some direction in her life. She has finished school and has a job that she likes (business management consulting, if I understood right), but she´s wondering if that´s all there is, or if there´s more she should be doing with her life. She wonders how you figure that out--how you know if you should be happy where you are with what you have, or whether you should be looking for something different in your life.
I run across that a lot on the Camino, it seems.
It had never occured to her that perhaps the Church might have some insight for her, from what I could tell. She was also very surprised at the kinds of things that happen at St. Paul, and the focus on serving out in the world. Her experience, from what I gathered, was that the Church was there to help you feel better in your life. The idea of really drawing one´s identity from that center was new to her, I think. We talked a lot about the difference between teaching about religion, which was what she sees the Church focusing on, and sharing faith--expressed in courage and joy and love.
It was a fascinating conversation, and the time absolutely flew past for me. When we hit Rabanal, I thought we were at the village still 8 k out; we were both very pleasantly surprised to find we were done walking for the day! It had gotten pretty hot today, and that last leg would have been a pretty tough slog (Marty said it sure was for him), but I barely noticed it.
The albergue here is again lovely. There is a cafe attached, and after I ordered my lunch the hostess gave us four large sandwiches and told us to keep them for tomorrow. (I hope they´re still good--they´re sausage. Again, standards are a bit different....) She also offered me an ice pack, which I used for my left shin and my right foot, and then passed to Raphaela for her knee. (I really hope she gave it back to the host; I haven´t seen her since.)
So again, a good day, with good (for me, at least!) conversation, and some new friends that ease the loss of the Camino friends I left behind when I had to bus so much. The Camino provides!
Tomorrow is the day we carry our pebbles to the pilgrim´s cross. Hard to believe we´re already at that point in the journey. And I´m very, very glad that I´m walking now; I´ve been looking forward to being able to carry those prayers and lay them down.
Blessed Sabbath to you all!
The albergue yesterday was, as I said, lovely. An old building of several floors, and these beautiful wood ceilings. But every time someone on the floor above us walked, they CREAKED. So it was a pretty loud night, and we had a few snorers again, so it wasn´t the most restful. But we allowed ourselves to sleep in until 6:00 a.m., which felt like quite a luxery.
We started with a simple breakfast of coffee, muffins and BiFructa, a blend of fruit juice and milk I swore I would never try, but which turns out to be absolutely delicious. (The label says, "Fruit juice and milk works!" Es verdad.) We got out the door pretty late for us--about 7:30. Emlyn and Niles again headed out a bit before Marty and I, assuming they would walk ahead and meet us at our destination albergue.
Marty and I enjoyed the early morning walk in the cool (quite cool--it felt good to move) and just chatted about all kinds of things for a while. My legs felt better than they had in a while. For once, the neuroma was more painful than the shinsplint, which is a development I never imagined myself actually welcoming, but which is actually pretty nicely managable.
As we were walking we heard some travelers coming up behind us, and as I moved aside to let them pass Marty said, "I thought I recognized those shapes." (They were backlit.) It was Niles and Emlyn; they had gotten lost getting out of Astorga and were just catching us up. So we had a chance to walk together a while.
As we were walking, we passed a young couple by the side of the rode, and shared the traditional Camino greeting. The young woman I recognized from a conversation in the albergue the night before, when I warned her not to leave her camera untended because of the recent thefts. When we said "Buen Camino!" this morning, her companion shouted, "Oh my God, Americans! Wait! I want to walk with you!" She just looked at us and smiled and said, "This is my boyfriend. He´s crazy!" We did general introductions, and chatted for a bit about where everyone was from (him, Spain; her, Austria), and talked about the possibility of meeting up down the Camino for coffee at a cafe.
We stopped in the second village we passed through, at about 9:30, for the morning coffee break, and before long they came along. I had finished my coffee, and we were almost ready to start walking again, but a German friend of theirs also came up looking for a map. I offered them mine (which I then realized they didn´t need because they already had one), and we started chatting. In the course of that conversation it came out that I´m a pastor, and I eventually asked if I could walk with them a while and continue the conversation we were having. So Marty, Niles and Em went on, and I waited a bit with Raphaela and Jorgé. We were soon joined by another friend of theirs from Germany--Sara. They were all very energetic, very happy to chat, very funny, and very willing to talk with me about religion and church and all that stuff.
For a while I walked mainly with Raphaela, and she wanted to know what I do with my day, what I teach, etc. We wandered all over the place, theologically speaking, and she, like just about every young person I met, said that she didn´t go to church very much. Young people don´t, she said, especially with all the big problems in the church--clergy abuse and such. She, too, said the church doesn´t listen to the people, and only worries about its traditions, not about people´s lives.
When I described life in the church at St. Paul, she was surprised and thought it sounded wonderful. She wasn´t in any way against the idea of God, but didn´t find much in the church that helped her understand God.
I´m not sure exactly how it happened--maybe at a fountain to refill with water--but eventually I switched to talking with Sara. Tried out a little German , which they said was excellent, but I had to try to convince them that even if they thought my accent was great, my ability to understand was pretty bad. We stuck with English.
Sara, too, was interested in what the church is like where I come from. She likes church, she said, and she believes in God, but she has a lot of questions. She goes once in a while but not very often, but she wishes more young people did go, and that she had friends to go with. She thought if the worship had more variety in the music, that would help. She had a pastor who she thought was a pretty good speaker--but didn´t see the church really trying to engage the world very much.
She is walking the Camino to see if she can find some direction in her life. She has finished school and has a job that she likes (business management consulting, if I understood right), but she´s wondering if that´s all there is, or if there´s more she should be doing with her life. She wonders how you figure that out--how you know if you should be happy where you are with what you have, or whether you should be looking for something different in your life.
I run across that a lot on the Camino, it seems.
It had never occured to her that perhaps the Church might have some insight for her, from what I could tell. She was also very surprised at the kinds of things that happen at St. Paul, and the focus on serving out in the world. Her experience, from what I gathered, was that the Church was there to help you feel better in your life. The idea of really drawing one´s identity from that center was new to her, I think. We talked a lot about the difference between teaching about religion, which was what she sees the Church focusing on, and sharing faith--expressed in courage and joy and love.
It was a fascinating conversation, and the time absolutely flew past for me. When we hit Rabanal, I thought we were at the village still 8 k out; we were both very pleasantly surprised to find we were done walking for the day! It had gotten pretty hot today, and that last leg would have been a pretty tough slog (Marty said it sure was for him), but I barely noticed it.
The albergue here is again lovely. There is a cafe attached, and after I ordered my lunch the hostess gave us four large sandwiches and told us to keep them for tomorrow. (I hope they´re still good--they´re sausage. Again, standards are a bit different....) She also offered me an ice pack, which I used for my left shin and my right foot, and then passed to Raphaela for her knee. (I really hope she gave it back to the host; I haven´t seen her since.)
So again, a good day, with good (for me, at least!) conversation, and some new friends that ease the loss of the Camino friends I left behind when I had to bus so much. The Camino provides!
Tomorrow is the day we carry our pebbles to the pilgrim´s cross. Hard to believe we´re already at that point in the journey. And I´m very, very glad that I´m walking now; I´ve been looking forward to being able to carry those prayers and lay them down.
Blessed Sabbath to you all!
Saturday, July 17, 2010
July 17: Villadangos del Páramo to Astorga
Well, this has been an interesting day!
We had a pretty long way to go today, but there were lots of villages where I could catch a bus if I needed to. We headed out about 6:30 this morning, and like yesterday Niles and Emlyn went ahead, and Marty and I took it a bit slower.
Not much of note about the bulk of the day. The weather was very nice--very cool in the morning, and fairly warm in the later part of the day, but not oppressive. The terrain was prettier today than it has been in a while, we´re getting out of the meseta, which means leaving the flat wheat fields behind. The sky is just an amazing shade of rich blue, with a few clouds, and the fileds alternate between corn, hay, wheat and something I couldn´t quite identify.
I started out feeling pretty good, and confident of being able to walk the whole way today. I did eventually start feeling the pain in both my shin and in the neuroma in my right foot (opposite legs--keeps me walking balanced, at least, with the pain alternating from side to side).
We encountered only a few peregrinos along the way, each one passing us or greeting us with the standard Camino greeting, "Buen Camino!" It´s interesting to me how, no matter how often we hear it, or how fast the greeter is going (some pilgrims are biking the Camino), the greeting always sounds and feels quite sincere, and is always a little blessing. It also feels good and right when we answer, "Buen Camino!" in return. In the villages, the residents will often greet us the same way. I always answer, "Gracias! Buenas Dias!" Again, it´s cool how it never feels like a matter of form, but like a matter of passing on blessing.
Marty and I made it to Astorga about 2:30--again, about 2 hours later than Emlyn and Niles. We were pretty tired, but walked past several albergues to find the one Niles had read (in the guide he´s carrying) was the best. Glad we made the effort; this place is lovely and restful, and very well equipped, including a great kitchen and dining area.
Em went to the store to shop for dinner, which she offered to cook. I took a power nap and Marty journaled, and Niles continued the nap he was taking when we got here. I woke up to find dinner nearly ready: pork chops simmered in chicken stock, with apples and sauteed onion, plus spinach salad. There was also pasta another group had made, they had a good deal extra, and left it on the stove with a note that it should be eaten by anyone who would like it. So we added it onto our menu. (We had more spinach and tomatos than we could use, and left them on the shelf in the fridge labeled "free food." This works very well!) Em also picked up a very nice red wine for about 2.50 euros; the wine here is amazingly inexpensive for very good wines--usually much cheaper than water.
Dinner was lovely. Afterward, as I was helping Emlyn dry dishes, a gentleman asked us if anyone was interested in getting a massage. I had noticed earlier several peregrinas getting a "Japanese Massage: 45 minutes for 10 euros" and had been pretty tempted. The massage table was right out in the middle of everything, right next to the dining table and between the kitchen and the front entrance desk. The clients were generall covered by towels, but not much else, and I has been wondering--well--how they got there.
This guy wasn´t offering Japanese massage, but I figured a massage couldn´t but help the tendonitis and general aches, and it would probably be much like the massage I had at the albergue a few days ago. He was offering to do back, legs and feet--awesome. So I said yes.
*TOO MUCH INFORMATION ALERT*
There may be certain pictures you just don´t want in your head. You know--like the very, very large man in the albergue last night who was wearing only underwear that was at least 3 sizes too small. So if you´d rather not have those pictures, you may want to stop reading now. Tomorrow´s blog will be equally wonderful, I´m sure.
So yeah, I walked over the the table. Now remember, we pack very, very light on the Camino. I am generally am wearing a grand total of two layers. The therapist promply invited me to divest myself of the top layer.
I hesitated. But then I thought, "Well, people have been doing this all day. And I know I´m American. This is Spain. Standards of modesty in Spain must be more...hmmmm...European. And we´ve been living in dorms with strangers dressing and undressing at about this level for 3 weeks now, so what´s the big deal?" After all, this is just one more exercise in receiving what the Camino has to offer--right?
I of course assumed that as soon as I lay down, he would modestly drape me with one of those nice towels. Wrong again. I lay on my stomach, and the first thing he did was remove any remaining barriers to working on those knots in my back.
This in front of the nice French family who had just finished cooking their dinner and sat down at the table--which was up about a half level up overlooking the sort of conversation-pit area where the massage table was. They must have had an absolutely....stunning is the only word I can think of....view.
He began working on loosening my hams and other large muscles in the legs. I couldn´t decide between keeping my eyes tighly closed (easy to do, since I was face down) and shouting an apology to the nice French family. I opted for the denial squinching of the eyes, and gratitude that no one could actually see my face, at least.
The massage was actually wonderful. He worked on back and legs and feet (heaven!), and I thought that was it. Evidently humiliation tends to stretch time, however; I wasn´t done yet. He invited me to turn over.
You know that dream? The one where you definitely aren´t adequatelly dressed for the context? And you keep hoping you´ll wake up, but you don´t, so you finally (in the dream) decide that--horror of horrors--this is the one time it actually came true, and you really are where you are afraid you are? But then (thank heaven!) you do wake up and are so happy to discover that you haven´t publicly humiliated yourself, and you actually can still look all the people you´re going to see that day in the face?
I didn´t wake up.
The only alternative seemed to be opting for keeping my eyes tightly closed. The massage therapist did, at least, re-establish the pertinant parts of the remaining layer before I turned. Thile he continued with various stretches for which I wanted to keep apologizing to the nice French family. I suppose I could have told him to stop. But it felt so daggone good to get the kinks worked out, and people did this all the time, and I´m probably way too obsessed with what people are thinking about my 53-year-old self, and he didn´t speak English anyway--so I just kept my eyes closed and focused on receiving what the Camino brings.
About then the Camino chose to bring me a visit from a somewhat odd older gentleman who seemed insistent on inviting me to join him in the plaza for bread and wine. Right there. With me dressed in one layer and a towel that covered--well, probably the most important parts, at least. By the way, this made the second time he had approached me, and I was not comfortable the first time, when I was just sitting out on the patio. Just, ouch.
At that point, Marty sent Emlyn in to make sure I was ok. (She told me he had invited her, as well. Ouch again.) She asked if I needed anything, attempting to keep the smile on her face encouraging and supportive but falling dangerously close to smirking. I told her I was fine, and she continued to fight for control--at which point I pretty much lost it altogether. I told her to leave because she was harshing my mellow. She just laughed again. But she left.
Focus on receiving all that the Camino has to offer. Right.
The very nice non-English-speaking massage therapist offered to extend the massage by giving me a face massage--an additional 20 minutes for 3.50. I thought maybe if I stayed there long enough, everyone who had seen me at the beginning might have left and I could get out with some shred of dignety. So I accepted.
When you think about it, I ended up with over an hour massage (he went longer than the minimum) for about 15 euro. That´s quite the deal, and I have to say I felt absolutely wonderful a the end. Except for the getting up, getting the top layer re-established, and actually having to look at the people all around me at the end.
Maybe tomorrow they´ll all have shinsplints and won´t be able to walk, and this is the last time I´ll see them. Ever. One can hope.
There is a bright side. At least it was all over before the group of teenage boys arrived.
Hope your Camino brings you something surprising--and wonderful--today! ^/^
We had a pretty long way to go today, but there were lots of villages where I could catch a bus if I needed to. We headed out about 6:30 this morning, and like yesterday Niles and Emlyn went ahead, and Marty and I took it a bit slower.
Not much of note about the bulk of the day. The weather was very nice--very cool in the morning, and fairly warm in the later part of the day, but not oppressive. The terrain was prettier today than it has been in a while, we´re getting out of the meseta, which means leaving the flat wheat fields behind. The sky is just an amazing shade of rich blue, with a few clouds, and the fileds alternate between corn, hay, wheat and something I couldn´t quite identify.
I started out feeling pretty good, and confident of being able to walk the whole way today. I did eventually start feeling the pain in both my shin and in the neuroma in my right foot (opposite legs--keeps me walking balanced, at least, with the pain alternating from side to side).
We encountered only a few peregrinos along the way, each one passing us or greeting us with the standard Camino greeting, "Buen Camino!" It´s interesting to me how, no matter how often we hear it, or how fast the greeter is going (some pilgrims are biking the Camino), the greeting always sounds and feels quite sincere, and is always a little blessing. It also feels good and right when we answer, "Buen Camino!" in return. In the villages, the residents will often greet us the same way. I always answer, "Gracias! Buenas Dias!" Again, it´s cool how it never feels like a matter of form, but like a matter of passing on blessing.
Marty and I made it to Astorga about 2:30--again, about 2 hours later than Emlyn and Niles. We were pretty tired, but walked past several albergues to find the one Niles had read (in the guide he´s carrying) was the best. Glad we made the effort; this place is lovely and restful, and very well equipped, including a great kitchen and dining area.
Em went to the store to shop for dinner, which she offered to cook. I took a power nap and Marty journaled, and Niles continued the nap he was taking when we got here. I woke up to find dinner nearly ready: pork chops simmered in chicken stock, with apples and sauteed onion, plus spinach salad. There was also pasta another group had made, they had a good deal extra, and left it on the stove with a note that it should be eaten by anyone who would like it. So we added it onto our menu. (We had more spinach and tomatos than we could use, and left them on the shelf in the fridge labeled "free food." This works very well!) Em also picked up a very nice red wine for about 2.50 euros; the wine here is amazingly inexpensive for very good wines--usually much cheaper than water.
Dinner was lovely. Afterward, as I was helping Emlyn dry dishes, a gentleman asked us if anyone was interested in getting a massage. I had noticed earlier several peregrinas getting a "Japanese Massage: 45 minutes for 10 euros" and had been pretty tempted. The massage table was right out in the middle of everything, right next to the dining table and between the kitchen and the front entrance desk. The clients were generall covered by towels, but not much else, and I has been wondering--well--how they got there.
This guy wasn´t offering Japanese massage, but I figured a massage couldn´t but help the tendonitis and general aches, and it would probably be much like the massage I had at the albergue a few days ago. He was offering to do back, legs and feet--awesome. So I said yes.
*TOO MUCH INFORMATION ALERT*
There may be certain pictures you just don´t want in your head. You know--like the very, very large man in the albergue last night who was wearing only underwear that was at least 3 sizes too small. So if you´d rather not have those pictures, you may want to stop reading now. Tomorrow´s blog will be equally wonderful, I´m sure.
So yeah, I walked over the the table. Now remember, we pack very, very light on the Camino. I am generally am wearing a grand total of two layers. The therapist promply invited me to divest myself of the top layer.
I hesitated. But then I thought, "Well, people have been doing this all day. And I know I´m American. This is Spain. Standards of modesty in Spain must be more...hmmmm...European. And we´ve been living in dorms with strangers dressing and undressing at about this level for 3 weeks now, so what´s the big deal?" After all, this is just one more exercise in receiving what the Camino has to offer--right?
I of course assumed that as soon as I lay down, he would modestly drape me with one of those nice towels. Wrong again. I lay on my stomach, and the first thing he did was remove any remaining barriers to working on those knots in my back.
This in front of the nice French family who had just finished cooking their dinner and sat down at the table--which was up about a half level up overlooking the sort of conversation-pit area where the massage table was. They must have had an absolutely....stunning is the only word I can think of....view.
He began working on loosening my hams and other large muscles in the legs. I couldn´t decide between keeping my eyes tighly closed (easy to do, since I was face down) and shouting an apology to the nice French family. I opted for the denial squinching of the eyes, and gratitude that no one could actually see my face, at least.
The massage was actually wonderful. He worked on back and legs and feet (heaven!), and I thought that was it. Evidently humiliation tends to stretch time, however; I wasn´t done yet. He invited me to turn over.
You know that dream? The one where you definitely aren´t adequatelly dressed for the context? And you keep hoping you´ll wake up, but you don´t, so you finally (in the dream) decide that--horror of horrors--this is the one time it actually came true, and you really are where you are afraid you are? But then (thank heaven!) you do wake up and are so happy to discover that you haven´t publicly humiliated yourself, and you actually can still look all the people you´re going to see that day in the face?
I didn´t wake up.
The only alternative seemed to be opting for keeping my eyes tightly closed. The massage therapist did, at least, re-establish the pertinant parts of the remaining layer before I turned. Thile he continued with various stretches for which I wanted to keep apologizing to the nice French family. I suppose I could have told him to stop. But it felt so daggone good to get the kinks worked out, and people did this all the time, and I´m probably way too obsessed with what people are thinking about my 53-year-old self, and he didn´t speak English anyway--so I just kept my eyes closed and focused on receiving what the Camino brings.
About then the Camino chose to bring me a visit from a somewhat odd older gentleman who seemed insistent on inviting me to join him in the plaza for bread and wine. Right there. With me dressed in one layer and a towel that covered--well, probably the most important parts, at least. By the way, this made the second time he had approached me, and I was not comfortable the first time, when I was just sitting out on the patio. Just, ouch.
At that point, Marty sent Emlyn in to make sure I was ok. (She told me he had invited her, as well. Ouch again.) She asked if I needed anything, attempting to keep the smile on her face encouraging and supportive but falling dangerously close to smirking. I told her I was fine, and she continued to fight for control--at which point I pretty much lost it altogether. I told her to leave because she was harshing my mellow. She just laughed again. But she left.
Focus on receiving all that the Camino has to offer. Right.
The very nice non-English-speaking massage therapist offered to extend the massage by giving me a face massage--an additional 20 minutes for 3.50. I thought maybe if I stayed there long enough, everyone who had seen me at the beginning might have left and I could get out with some shred of dignety. So I accepted.
When you think about it, I ended up with over an hour massage (he went longer than the minimum) for about 15 euro. That´s quite the deal, and I have to say I felt absolutely wonderful a the end. Except for the getting up, getting the top layer re-established, and actually having to look at the people all around me at the end.
Maybe tomorrow they´ll all have shinsplints and won´t be able to walk, and this is the last time I´ll see them. Ever. One can hope.
There is a bright side. At least it was all over before the group of teenage boys arrived.
Hope your Camino brings you something surprising--and wonderful--today! ^/^
Friday, July 16, 2010
July 16: León to Villadangos
Woot! Finally, after five days of waiting, I was able to walk 22 K from León to Villadangos. My guidebook says it´s an easy walk, and should take about 5 1/2 hours. We left at about 7:00 this morning, and Marty and I rolled in at about 2:30--about 2 hours longer than average. But I´m pretty darn excited that I made it at all.
The day didn´t start so well. The albergue we stayed at last night was pretty cool, and we actually got to attend Compline (in Spanish, with some Enblish translation) with the sisters, which was nice. But we were also reminded that the Camino is still part of the real world; after the doors were locked last night, and before they were opened this morning, someone stole Niles´ iPhone. Pretty rough stuff. We thought about trying to notify someone, but there were hundreds of people in this albergue, and we knew it wouldn´t do much good. So Niles used my phone to cancel all his accounts and change all his online passwords, and he´ll just manage without music or books for the next two weeks.
As we were leaving, Niles and Emlyn connected with a very nice young French man, and they ended up walking ahead. Marty and I told them to just plan on meeting us at the albergue in Villadangos, and I would decide on the way if I needed to bus it or not. Fortunately, there were several towns between León and Villadangos, so I could try a short bit and see if my shinsplints were going to be so bad I couldn´t walk today. I just couldn´t tell until after we started walking.
After only about 7 k, Marty and I stopped for coffee, and I asked if I could have some ice. The very, very nice woman at the cafe actually put it in a plastic bag so I could ice my leg; it´s amazing how much simple things like that matter. We were again walking for several miles on concrete next to highways, so it was pretty tough on my leg. But I walked really slowly (Marty being gracious enough to hang back with me, which isn´t actually that easy), and I was able to keep going.
At about 10:30 I was wondering if I needed to stop, and I began some pretty serious praying, trying to determine whether I was just being stubborn in wanting to walk, or trying to avoid discomfort in thinking about stopping. Sometimes, it´s really, really hard to tell. So I just kept up that internal dialogue with God ("I really don´t want to just use you as my personal Santa Clause to make my life easy, but I really do want to walk this thing and would be most grateful if you would bring some healing to this leg and let me continue walking prayers for my friends. But I´m not trying to bargain, here..." You know that dialogue.) And suddenly the pain just began to smooth out. It didn´t disappear, but I stopped wondering whether I was making things worse, and really felt like I could manage to keep going if I just allowed myself the time to walk slowly and gently.
So we did it, and I really felt wonderful about that. We found the albergue, cleaned up, did laundry, and I´m pretty confident that I can walk again tomorrow. My leg is feeling much better, for some reason--although I´m going to just take it the day at the time.
Marty, Emlyn and I went to a grocery store to get supplies to make a simple dinner, and when we returned we discovered a police officer at the albergue. (This one is much smaller than yesterday´s.) Someone stole a camera that was charging in the front area--the same way Niles´ phone was stolen last night. Not a great feeling, and we´re all keeping a much closer watch on our stuff.
Spent time after dinner playing cribbage with the family, and it was wonderful to just sit and laugh together. Niles is coming to terms with the fact that he has to replace his phone and will be pretty much out of touch for a couple of weeks, and I´m coming to terms with the fact that it´s a daily thing whether I walk or bus. Guess we´re learning to take things as they come. Which was, if I remember correctly, a big part of the point.
So yeah, not a bad day.
Peace!
The day didn´t start so well. The albergue we stayed at last night was pretty cool, and we actually got to attend Compline (in Spanish, with some Enblish translation) with the sisters, which was nice. But we were also reminded that the Camino is still part of the real world; after the doors were locked last night, and before they were opened this morning, someone stole Niles´ iPhone. Pretty rough stuff. We thought about trying to notify someone, but there were hundreds of people in this albergue, and we knew it wouldn´t do much good. So Niles used my phone to cancel all his accounts and change all his online passwords, and he´ll just manage without music or books for the next two weeks.
As we were leaving, Niles and Emlyn connected with a very nice young French man, and they ended up walking ahead. Marty and I told them to just plan on meeting us at the albergue in Villadangos, and I would decide on the way if I needed to bus it or not. Fortunately, there were several towns between León and Villadangos, so I could try a short bit and see if my shinsplints were going to be so bad I couldn´t walk today. I just couldn´t tell until after we started walking.
After only about 7 k, Marty and I stopped for coffee, and I asked if I could have some ice. The very, very nice woman at the cafe actually put it in a plastic bag so I could ice my leg; it´s amazing how much simple things like that matter. We were again walking for several miles on concrete next to highways, so it was pretty tough on my leg. But I walked really slowly (Marty being gracious enough to hang back with me, which isn´t actually that easy), and I was able to keep going.
At about 10:30 I was wondering if I needed to stop, and I began some pretty serious praying, trying to determine whether I was just being stubborn in wanting to walk, or trying to avoid discomfort in thinking about stopping. Sometimes, it´s really, really hard to tell. So I just kept up that internal dialogue with God ("I really don´t want to just use you as my personal Santa Clause to make my life easy, but I really do want to walk this thing and would be most grateful if you would bring some healing to this leg and let me continue walking prayers for my friends. But I´m not trying to bargain, here..." You know that dialogue.) And suddenly the pain just began to smooth out. It didn´t disappear, but I stopped wondering whether I was making things worse, and really felt like I could manage to keep going if I just allowed myself the time to walk slowly and gently.
So we did it, and I really felt wonderful about that. We found the albergue, cleaned up, did laundry, and I´m pretty confident that I can walk again tomorrow. My leg is feeling much better, for some reason--although I´m going to just take it the day at the time.
Marty, Emlyn and I went to a grocery store to get supplies to make a simple dinner, and when we returned we discovered a police officer at the albergue. (This one is much smaller than yesterday´s.) Someone stole a camera that was charging in the front area--the same way Niles´ phone was stolen last night. Not a great feeling, and we´re all keeping a much closer watch on our stuff.
Spent time after dinner playing cribbage with the family, and it was wonderful to just sit and laugh together. Niles is coming to terms with the fact that he has to replace his phone and will be pretty much out of touch for a couple of weeks, and I´m coming to terms with the fact that it´s a daily thing whether I walk or bus. Guess we´re learning to take things as they come. Which was, if I remember correctly, a big part of the point.
So yeah, not a bad day.
Peace!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
July 15 in Sahagun, then to Leon
Stupid Camino.
Stupìd, unbending, unyielding, rigid Camino.
Stupid, unbending, unyielding, rigid, inflexible, stiff-necked, proud, clobber-headed Camino!
Oh wait. That´s not the Camino. That would, in point of fact, be (sigh) me.
Yeah, the last few days have not been at all what I planned. As I mentioned earlier, I got shinsplints going into Burgos, and they haven´t been improving. I have been completely taken aback by this; after almost two weeks of some pretty rugged hiking and pretty challenging terrain, I just couldn´t accept that I had suffered an injury on a long straight walk that was just boring.
I kept thinking it would get better in a day. Or so. It didn´t.
After all those tears the day we left Burgos, taking over 3 hours to to 10 k to Tardajos, we took the bus on to Castrojeritz, where we did indeed finally get a bed even though it was in some question at first. Niles and Em and I talked over the options, and decided they would walk the next day to Fromista while I rested at Castrojeriz and caught the 6:30 p.m. bus to meet them.
Then we went to bed. Then I woke up--angry. I wanted to walk. I thought if maybe I just lightened my pack some, gave some gear to Niles and Em and took it slow, I could still pull this off. So I asked them to take some of my stuff (even though we had already agreed I would bus that day), and they looked at me like I was nuts and gave me the stuff they didn´t want to carry instead.
I did not take this well. They insisted, "We are not comfortable with you walking today." "Fine," I said. "Give me your stuff." While in my head I was saying, "And in an hour I´ll just follow you at my own pace." Right. With a pack that now weighs even more, and a shin that still hurts like billy-oh. (A favorite phrase of mine from C.S. Lewis when I know I shouldn´t say what I really feel like saying....)
So they left. And I felt like...well...billy-oh. I didn´t know anyone in the albergue we were in (and they all left early as well anyway); we´d left all our friends behind when we caught the bus the day before. I didn´t have anyone to talk to, and I had 12 hours to kill, and I felt--wow--really, really bad.
You have to clear out of the albergues by 8 at the latest, so they can clean for the day´s next influx of pilgrims. So I headed out the door, wondering where I was going to go in this very small village. The hostess told me there was a very nice taverna down the street that was already open, and I could get breakfast there.
So I went, and found an outlet to charge my phone, and sat down wondering what I was going to do for the next many hours. I was only there about an hour and a half when Aisling walked in--one of my Camino friends from the last week-plus. She had already walked to Castrojeriz by 10:30 and was thinking about stopping for the day, so she sat down with me. She said, "How you doing?"
Yeah--way to make me cry, Aisling!
Obviously, I was pretty much a mess. I couldn´t hold it together past a simple greeting. So she sat with me, and listened, and we talked for the next several hours. It struck me how different this was from what I planned; here was this young woman in her early 20´s comforting the 53-year-old spiritual guide. Right.
See, I knew that the Camino would not bring me what I expected. I knew I had to be ready to "lay everything down" and accept what came. I knew I couldn´t count on following my agenda. I knew I needed to know all these things. And I did! I told some folks before I left that one of the things I felt was important was the opportunity to--just for a while--lay everyone else´s pain down and just walk with mine.
Yeah, that´s going well. Turns out I hate my pain.
And a big part of the pain I hate is knowing I have to let go of my expectations, and then being unwilling to actually do it. I´ve discovered that gap between knowing what you need to do, and doing what you need to do. Somewhere in the middle is all that self-delusion.
I want to be the awesome, slightly-older-than-average female pastor who takes on a tremendous challenge, and suffers pain for it, but still pulls through! ("See the Amazing Limping Woman! She´s Courageous! She´s Cool! She´s an Inspiration to Everyone She Meets!") OK, maybe I´m being a little hard on myself, here. I don´t think my self-expectations were actually that high or unrealistic. But it feels like it, sometimes.
I did, however, really really really want to be able to walk the whole Camino. And I can´t. I overestimated what I can carry, and how quickly I can recover--and how gracefully I can accept my own disappointment. I got angry when Niles and Emlyn left, and they could tell. (They could also tell I was thinking I´d just leave after them, and when they broke for breakfast they actually waited an hour to see if I would show up. Fortunately the Holy Spirit smacked me into somewhat better self-awareness before I did anything that stupid.)
When Aisling showed up, it was like a gift from God. I needed the friendship and gentle, simple, easy conversation that came with her encouragment. She wasn´t heavy-handed with advice. She just shared the journey with me, and we had more time to talk then we´d had before. It was such a blessing.
About the time we broke for lunch, several other "Camino Friends" had shown up, and I joined them for lunch. A good part of the conversation (with several people much younger than I) was how we were going to manage this with our injuries. Some folks were sending their packs ahead and walking with only water. Others were taking very, very short days. I realized again how willing I was to accept their limitations without judgement. Hmmm.....
Kyle and Jess and I wandered down the street to buy Kyle a 20-liter pack, which he thought might be so light he could actually carry it. The very lovely, older proprioter was very eager to help us, but didn´t seem to understand that repeating Spanish even more rapidly every time we misunderstood wouldn´t be all that helpful for us. But we finally got it sorted. Kyle got a pack and small water bladder, Jess started to buy liner socks (she lost one) but Kyle told her he was going to send some home but he´d give them to her instead, and I got company and reassurance that we´re all just doing what we can. And If I´d walked on with Niles and Emlyn, I wouldn´t have been so cared for by these people who really don´t know me and don´t need to be so nice to me--but they do anyway.
The hostess at the albergue--a Czech woman who speaks even less Spanish than English--had told me I could come back for a massage for my shinsplints. I couldn´t quite understand her name, but she had left a career in banking (much to her parents´horror) to begin serving in albergues 13 years ago. When I stopped back by the albergue in the afternoon, she actually had a massage table set up. She put on quiet music, and worked on my feed and lower legs for almost an hour--all the while talking gently, telling me that I have to be flexible. The Camino is the Camino--it´s not my plan, or the walking schedule, or anyone´s expectations. It´s just the Camino, and everything one finds no matter where one is along the way.
I knew this. But I forget.
She reminded me that God intends that we listen to our bodies, because God speaks to us not only through others, but also through our own selves. She reminded me that when my body is telling me to slow down, that means God is also telling me to slow down. She told me to relax and accept the pain I was feeling, and care for it.
Breathe....
As she finished working on each leg, she would take my foot in her hand and just hold it. I could feel the prayer in her hands.
If I had walked on with Niles and Emlyn, I would have missed this ministry, this blessing.
During the course of our conversation (we continued talking for almost an hour after she finished the massage), she also said to me (with tears in her eyes), that it had been very important for her as well to talk to me. (I had told her earlier than I am a pastor, to which she had replied, "Ah, now I understand.") She said that so often in the church, she had only encountered priests or pastors who can´t seem to wait to get through the service, and who speak the prayers and liturgy in a monotone. These spiritual leaders had taken exception to her ministry of serving and healing, pretty much indicating that what she was doing wasn´t valid, or part of serving God. On the Camino, however, she had the chance to meet pastors and priests who affirmed her service, and her gift--and she needed, in some way, to hear that from the Church. It meant a great deal to her to have a pastor thank her for her ministry--to in fact, need her ministry.
We all need our ministries to be needed.
Afterward, it was time for me to head to the bus stop. I got a little confused about directions, and had to ask a lovely older gentleman who showed me the way and then desired to receive my thanks with a kiss. (I managed to give him my cheek just in time to avoid the full-on expression of gratitude.)
When I got to Fromista, Niles and Emlyn were waiting for me at the bus stop. Another blessing! They had had a great day, and I was so glad to see them. I apologized immediately for my attitude that morning, and they accepted with grace. We were at a beautiful albergue--a private one that cost no more than the municipal one--and felt very comfortable there. We went out for dinner and had a great time, and some of the most relaxed and enjoyable conversation we´d had in a long time. The day was very good for all of us.
The next morning we looked at the schedule and realized we needed to take the train to Sahagun. I still wasn´t ready to walk, and it was too far for Niles and Em to be able to make it by today, when we meet Marty. So we travelled by train and again checked into a private algergue. This one seems fairly new, and is in the back of a bar/restaurant (across an alley in the back). We were the only ones there, which meant a lovely quiet night. But the atmosphere was just off somehow. Not long after we checked in, we got to listen to what sounded like a loud and long argument between the owner and family or staff. No one seemed particularly glad to see us, and they made no effort whatsoever to help us understand what they were trying to tell us. So we left early this morning, and have spend the day sitting around cafes until Marty´s train arrives at 1:20 today.
Obviously, after looking around for a day, I finally found a cafe with computers--hence the blog today. Now it´s time for lunch, and we´ll meet Marty, who has had a somewhat stressful trip. He had 7 hours between his flight landing in Paris and needing to catch the train, which we thought was a great safety net. But the flight was weather delayed, and he missed the train and had to book another ticket. Pretty expensive delay, but we´ll manage.
We´ll go on to Leon by train this afternoon, and then have some flexibility to take half days or rest days and still get into Santiago in plenty of time. Or maybe we´ll take the bus if we feel like it. But Niles and Em and I are missing the routine of walking, and my leg is definitely feeling better today. So am I, come to think of it.
God is good. And a heck of a lot smarter than I am.
Thanks for all the notes of encouragment, and all the prayers. I am indeed leaning on them! Blessings on your day.
Stupìd, unbending, unyielding, rigid Camino.
Stupid, unbending, unyielding, rigid, inflexible, stiff-necked, proud, clobber-headed Camino!
Oh wait. That´s not the Camino. That would, in point of fact, be (sigh) me.
Yeah, the last few days have not been at all what I planned. As I mentioned earlier, I got shinsplints going into Burgos, and they haven´t been improving. I have been completely taken aback by this; after almost two weeks of some pretty rugged hiking and pretty challenging terrain, I just couldn´t accept that I had suffered an injury on a long straight walk that was just boring.
I kept thinking it would get better in a day. Or so. It didn´t.
After all those tears the day we left Burgos, taking over 3 hours to to 10 k to Tardajos, we took the bus on to Castrojeritz, where we did indeed finally get a bed even though it was in some question at first. Niles and Em and I talked over the options, and decided they would walk the next day to Fromista while I rested at Castrojeriz and caught the 6:30 p.m. bus to meet them.
Then we went to bed. Then I woke up--angry. I wanted to walk. I thought if maybe I just lightened my pack some, gave some gear to Niles and Em and took it slow, I could still pull this off. So I asked them to take some of my stuff (even though we had already agreed I would bus that day), and they looked at me like I was nuts and gave me the stuff they didn´t want to carry instead.
I did not take this well. They insisted, "We are not comfortable with you walking today." "Fine," I said. "Give me your stuff." While in my head I was saying, "And in an hour I´ll just follow you at my own pace." Right. With a pack that now weighs even more, and a shin that still hurts like billy-oh. (A favorite phrase of mine from C.S. Lewis when I know I shouldn´t say what I really feel like saying....)
So they left. And I felt like...well...billy-oh. I didn´t know anyone in the albergue we were in (and they all left early as well anyway); we´d left all our friends behind when we caught the bus the day before. I didn´t have anyone to talk to, and I had 12 hours to kill, and I felt--wow--really, really bad.
You have to clear out of the albergues by 8 at the latest, so they can clean for the day´s next influx of pilgrims. So I headed out the door, wondering where I was going to go in this very small village. The hostess told me there was a very nice taverna down the street that was already open, and I could get breakfast there.
So I went, and found an outlet to charge my phone, and sat down wondering what I was going to do for the next many hours. I was only there about an hour and a half when Aisling walked in--one of my Camino friends from the last week-plus. She had already walked to Castrojeriz by 10:30 and was thinking about stopping for the day, so she sat down with me. She said, "How you doing?"
Yeah--way to make me cry, Aisling!
Obviously, I was pretty much a mess. I couldn´t hold it together past a simple greeting. So she sat with me, and listened, and we talked for the next several hours. It struck me how different this was from what I planned; here was this young woman in her early 20´s comforting the 53-year-old spiritual guide. Right.
See, I knew that the Camino would not bring me what I expected. I knew I had to be ready to "lay everything down" and accept what came. I knew I couldn´t count on following my agenda. I knew I needed to know all these things. And I did! I told some folks before I left that one of the things I felt was important was the opportunity to--just for a while--lay everyone else´s pain down and just walk with mine.
Yeah, that´s going well. Turns out I hate my pain.
And a big part of the pain I hate is knowing I have to let go of my expectations, and then being unwilling to actually do it. I´ve discovered that gap between knowing what you need to do, and doing what you need to do. Somewhere in the middle is all that self-delusion.
I want to be the awesome, slightly-older-than-average female pastor who takes on a tremendous challenge, and suffers pain for it, but still pulls through! ("See the Amazing Limping Woman! She´s Courageous! She´s Cool! She´s an Inspiration to Everyone She Meets!") OK, maybe I´m being a little hard on myself, here. I don´t think my self-expectations were actually that high or unrealistic. But it feels like it, sometimes.
I did, however, really really really want to be able to walk the whole Camino. And I can´t. I overestimated what I can carry, and how quickly I can recover--and how gracefully I can accept my own disappointment. I got angry when Niles and Emlyn left, and they could tell. (They could also tell I was thinking I´d just leave after them, and when they broke for breakfast they actually waited an hour to see if I would show up. Fortunately the Holy Spirit smacked me into somewhat better self-awareness before I did anything that stupid.)
When Aisling showed up, it was like a gift from God. I needed the friendship and gentle, simple, easy conversation that came with her encouragment. She wasn´t heavy-handed with advice. She just shared the journey with me, and we had more time to talk then we´d had before. It was such a blessing.
About the time we broke for lunch, several other "Camino Friends" had shown up, and I joined them for lunch. A good part of the conversation (with several people much younger than I) was how we were going to manage this with our injuries. Some folks were sending their packs ahead and walking with only water. Others were taking very, very short days. I realized again how willing I was to accept their limitations without judgement. Hmmm.....
Kyle and Jess and I wandered down the street to buy Kyle a 20-liter pack, which he thought might be so light he could actually carry it. The very lovely, older proprioter was very eager to help us, but didn´t seem to understand that repeating Spanish even more rapidly every time we misunderstood wouldn´t be all that helpful for us. But we finally got it sorted. Kyle got a pack and small water bladder, Jess started to buy liner socks (she lost one) but Kyle told her he was going to send some home but he´d give them to her instead, and I got company and reassurance that we´re all just doing what we can. And If I´d walked on with Niles and Emlyn, I wouldn´t have been so cared for by these people who really don´t know me and don´t need to be so nice to me--but they do anyway.
The hostess at the albergue--a Czech woman who speaks even less Spanish than English--had told me I could come back for a massage for my shinsplints. I couldn´t quite understand her name, but she had left a career in banking (much to her parents´horror) to begin serving in albergues 13 years ago. When I stopped back by the albergue in the afternoon, she actually had a massage table set up. She put on quiet music, and worked on my feed and lower legs for almost an hour--all the while talking gently, telling me that I have to be flexible. The Camino is the Camino--it´s not my plan, or the walking schedule, or anyone´s expectations. It´s just the Camino, and everything one finds no matter where one is along the way.
I knew this. But I forget.
She reminded me that God intends that we listen to our bodies, because God speaks to us not only through others, but also through our own selves. She reminded me that when my body is telling me to slow down, that means God is also telling me to slow down. She told me to relax and accept the pain I was feeling, and care for it.
Breathe....
As she finished working on each leg, she would take my foot in her hand and just hold it. I could feel the prayer in her hands.
If I had walked on with Niles and Emlyn, I would have missed this ministry, this blessing.
During the course of our conversation (we continued talking for almost an hour after she finished the massage), she also said to me (with tears in her eyes), that it had been very important for her as well to talk to me. (I had told her earlier than I am a pastor, to which she had replied, "Ah, now I understand.") She said that so often in the church, she had only encountered priests or pastors who can´t seem to wait to get through the service, and who speak the prayers and liturgy in a monotone. These spiritual leaders had taken exception to her ministry of serving and healing, pretty much indicating that what she was doing wasn´t valid, or part of serving God. On the Camino, however, she had the chance to meet pastors and priests who affirmed her service, and her gift--and she needed, in some way, to hear that from the Church. It meant a great deal to her to have a pastor thank her for her ministry--to in fact, need her ministry.
We all need our ministries to be needed.
Afterward, it was time for me to head to the bus stop. I got a little confused about directions, and had to ask a lovely older gentleman who showed me the way and then desired to receive my thanks with a kiss. (I managed to give him my cheek just in time to avoid the full-on expression of gratitude.)
When I got to Fromista, Niles and Emlyn were waiting for me at the bus stop. Another blessing! They had had a great day, and I was so glad to see them. I apologized immediately for my attitude that morning, and they accepted with grace. We were at a beautiful albergue--a private one that cost no more than the municipal one--and felt very comfortable there. We went out for dinner and had a great time, and some of the most relaxed and enjoyable conversation we´d had in a long time. The day was very good for all of us.
The next morning we looked at the schedule and realized we needed to take the train to Sahagun. I still wasn´t ready to walk, and it was too far for Niles and Em to be able to make it by today, when we meet Marty. So we travelled by train and again checked into a private algergue. This one seems fairly new, and is in the back of a bar/restaurant (across an alley in the back). We were the only ones there, which meant a lovely quiet night. But the atmosphere was just off somehow. Not long after we checked in, we got to listen to what sounded like a loud and long argument between the owner and family or staff. No one seemed particularly glad to see us, and they made no effort whatsoever to help us understand what they were trying to tell us. So we left early this morning, and have spend the day sitting around cafes until Marty´s train arrives at 1:20 today.
Obviously, after looking around for a day, I finally found a cafe with computers--hence the blog today. Now it´s time for lunch, and we´ll meet Marty, who has had a somewhat stressful trip. He had 7 hours between his flight landing in Paris and needing to catch the train, which we thought was a great safety net. But the flight was weather delayed, and he missed the train and had to book another ticket. Pretty expensive delay, but we´ll manage.
We´ll go on to Leon by train this afternoon, and then have some flexibility to take half days or rest days and still get into Santiago in plenty of time. Or maybe we´ll take the bus if we feel like it. But Niles and Em and I are missing the routine of walking, and my leg is definitely feeling better today. So am I, come to think of it.
God is good. And a heck of a lot smarter than I am.
Thanks for all the notes of encouragment, and all the prayers. I am indeed leaning on them! Blessings on your day.
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