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!