Unpacking My Camino

It's hard to believe that I have been back from the Camino for seven weeks now and I have been told that the real Camino begins when you return home.  It's hard to process such an experience.  Days upon days of walking sometimes completely alone, up and down mountains, through villages and towns, where the beauty of the countryside can take your breath away.  Trusting that, especially when you are completely exhausted there will be a bed and a meal at the end of it.  Traveling with only the basic essentials to get you through.  Sleeping in hostels with strangers and not always speaking their language.  Stepping outside one's comfort zone doesn't even come close to describing the process, so it's hardly surprising that on my return it felt as if I was in another world for quite a while.  I suppose in a way I was.  I watched myself slip back into old patterns of behaviour probably because I was too exhausted, euphoric or too zen to do otherwise but slowly I am unraveling IT and the upper case IT is no mistake.  I realise that walking the Camino was big and I start to see that by applying some of the lessons I learned there, maybe, just maybe I can make some sense of this strange call that I somehow responded to.  Someone said to me, the Camino chooses you and if that's true then what do I do with that?  When I unpack my Camino I find gratitude, peace, love, community and much more, so maybe it really is true, my Camino is only just beginning.

Finishing Strong

Today was not a day for walking, that part of the Camino is now over.  Yesterday was our last day and as we walked in to Santiago together, none of us really knew how to feel.  After another glorious day walking through forests that now were home to eucalyptus trees and with the scent of them following our trail, so much was going through our heads.  I say "ours" and that is the group that had somehow found its way together in the last few days: three Brazilian girls, one young lady from Oregon, me and my friend Darragh.  Now Darragh is a dark horse and Darragh has taught me much this Camino and the one powerful thing he said is that really the only prayer we need to say is "I'm alive and I'm grateful", he has his reasons for saying that.
Anyway, we walked through the outskirts of Santiago and found our Albergue, then went to get our "Compostelas" - certificates to say we had walked the Camino and then had a quiet evening.  I think maybe we expected a mariachi band or something.  I found myself with a vague unsettled feeling but as I have learned, I just had to wait.  When I went to the cathedral this morning which is so massive that I can only imagine how the pilgrims of the past have felt to see it towering over them as they stumbled into the city, there was mass in the morning and at this mass they swung the Botufumeiro - the huge incense burner which takes 8 men to swing it.  It is the most amazing sight and all I can say is that it moved something so deeply in me that it was hard not to gasp.  It swung down one nave and then the other, unbelievable and then at the pilgrim mass later in the day, the same thing was done.  This was such a gift and I was so grateful so see it.  But the thing that struck me so much too was that high on the altar is the statue of St. James and all through mass people were walking behind it and hugging the statue as is the custom.  It was strangely moving to see what was going on behind the altar and all the faithful who were pouring in to do this, even if they questioned that belief.  I visited the relics and my Camino was over, my sins forgiven.
So tomorrow I head to the end of the earth, Finisterre or Fisterre.  I take the bus, some are walking but for now my walking is over. 
Yes, my darling son, I finished strong and know that all the support, prayers and positive thoughts from everyone lit my path and lightened my load over these 500 miles.
Thank you all so much.

Almost There

Well the days seem to be flying by and there are now 89 kms to go to get to Santiago, talk about mixed emotions.  Coming through the mountains over the last few days has been exhausting but the views have rewarded every bit of effort.  I run out of superlatives to use to describe all that I see.  It's hard to believe I am walking through all this majesty, not only walking by castles such as the Knight's Templar castle in Ponferrada, dating to the 13th century but also ancient monasteries such as Samosa.  I was lucky enough to time my visit there and have a tour, I swear I could feel the ghosts of the old monks wandering the halls.  Today only six remain.
I had climbed to 1300 metres to get to O Cebreiro and even though the thought of the ascent had filled me with dread, as I left there, the clouds had dropped down over the mountaintops and it felt as if I could reach out and touch them.  I had now entered into the province of Galicia where the weather promises to be unpredictable but so far there has brilliant sunshine for days.  After the flat terrain of the Meseta the walk through the mountains was very welcome and then the rolling countryside that followed was a real delight.  Cherries hang from the trees and roses cascade over garden fences. Poppies dot the wheatfields and small farms blend in with tidy homes where summer sits in the gardens.
Soon countryside begins again and the butterflies of all different colours flit among the wild flowers.  I was treated to bluebells and wild purple foxgloves, then yellow lupins appeared today.  Fig trees have started to appear along the way and the fruit hangs heavy on the branches.  It seems as if nature puts on a show for me every day.

Mother´s Day on the Camino

Well I would have to say this may be the strangest Mother's Day I have ever spent, on the Camino, high in the mountains of Spain.  Sitting in an Albergue in a nearly abandoned village at a height of almost 1400 m. I walked up here today and what a wonderful sight it is to see the mountains again.  It was a rocky path but it wound up through wonderful vistas and big gorse bushes in shades of mauve, yellow and white.  It almost seems as if the Camino is bracketed by mountains.

So many contrasts.  Wandering through the stone villages with populations of maybe 20 or 50 never seeing a soul.  They resemble movie sets where the actors have left for the day and then to arrive at a city like Leon or Astorga, dominated by the majestic cathedrals and the wonderful architecture of bygone days.  They crackle with life when the Spanish people swarm the bars and restaurants after 8:00 pm, pushing babies in strollers and holding onto toddlers.  Then to pass from that to the majesty of the mountains or the sight of the fields of wheat and barley, being stirred by a wind which reveals all the different hues of green as a ripple runs through them.  Only by walking through all this, is the memory imprinted on my soul.

I have to admit though that this morning, as I lay in my bottom bunk and watched my friend Serina pack up her pack at 5:30 am and start walking and then listen to the people on the floor above also packing up and sounding like a legion of Roman soldiers who had walked this land before, I had the question in my mind, "what in the good Lord´s name am I doing here, miles away from everyone I love, on Mother's Day?"
The question is being answered moment by moment.  Maybe it isn't me that follows the Way, the Way will find me.

Sleeping with Francisco

Okay, I have a confession to make, last night I slept with Francisco.  In this strange world that is called the Camino, after a 32 kms day and the Albergue being "completo" - full, there were a couple of spaces in a private establishment and for an exorbitant 12 euros I was shown to what resembled a garden shed with stick on stainglass windows and there sat Francisco, a fellow pilgrim, probably in his early sixties who spoke not a word of English.  Anyway, we spent the night together, in this garden shed, and he helped me thread my blisters.  There we were, he, slightly deaf and explaining in Spanish how to pull a thread through my blisters and then finally, gently doing it for me.  Nice.  I have come to believe and to see that kindness is a language all of its own. 

Today was a good day and I am now about 330 kms from Santiago.  Phew!!  One thing I am really learning is how very powerful our thoughts are.  I notice quickly now the negative, self-defeating thoughts and how they colour my day, a slight tweak and the day seems to go better.  Also, I spot whiney pilgrim quickly.  After not having someone to talk to for hours, she pops out when someone comes along and moans about the weather or something, ah, but I am too smart for her now, I pay attention and then gag her.  I suppose it´s a bit like that Zen koan, if a tree falls in the forest and there is nobody there to hear it, does it make a sound?  If a pilgrim whines when no-one's listening, well, you catch my drift.

Sunshine on the Meseta

I am now at Castrojeriz and this makes me 460 kms from Santiago.  I am almost halfway there.  The last three days have been brilliant sunshine and perfect days for walking.  The landscape changes daily and I go from wooded areas and then by rocky paths through wide open spaces and yesterday entered the Meseta, a flatter, unshaded landscape with little piles of stone and low stone walls.  Left behind are the glorious mauve gorse bushes of three days ago, the vineyards and the wheatfields.  Still I pass through the villages dominated by their huge stone churches and with the smell of woodsmoke wafting through the air.  I find it sad that so many of these magnificent churches are closed up and it's rare to see inside their marvellous interiors.  Today and yesterday were spent in Albergues in these places where cobbled streets pass by stone houses adorned with scallop shells but few people do I see.  The ferocious dogs I have read about have not yet materialised and so far they are a sleepy, rather unkempt lot that lolled in the streets as I pass. 

I have fared quite well so far and even my pack seems to be less of a distraction.  I tend less to think of myself as the "World's Worst Pilgrim" and compare myself less to the others I see on the road.  I have come to see that as I bring the best of myself to the day, the day unfolds much better.  To be mindful and to be present bring forth a better outcome.

Physically I have had a bit of sunburn, a couple of coldsores and a couple of blisters, there are no complaints here, I pay attention and then let them go.  It is funny to see how we rock and limp and yet keep going.  This world of contrasts which is so very different than the conventions we usually adhere to, it is nothing to see a pilgrim rubbing his sore bare feet at an outdoor cafe or clipping his toenails on the stone steps of a church where storks nest in the towers.  Middle-aged pilgrims sit in their underwear on bunkbeds in the Refugios.  This is normal life on the Camino.

Fully rested

Today was a better day and I reached Villafranca de Montes de Oca, a distance of 22 kms without it seeming too arduous.  The route took me through gently rolling terrain that at times reminded me of the English countryside.  There is a pattern to the days.  I leave around 8.30 am and make sure to stop for a cafe con leche soon after leaving.  Today I stopped for lunch which was the most delicious tortilla, a pie made with potatoes, egg and sometimes onion and ham.   I was rested and my drooping spirits were revived after staying at the wonderful albergue last night which is run by Acacia and Orietta.  This wonderful couple met in 1999 on the Camino, he from Brazil and she from Italy.  According to Orietta, the Camino shakes you and this is obviously what happened to them.  After many years working as volunteers they bought and renovated an albergue in the little village of Viloria de la Riojia.
Our evening meal which consisted of large pots of rice; a stew of chorizo and beans; homemade soup; salad bread, was placed on the table and then we all introduced ourselves and gave our reason for being on the Camino.  We were one Korean, one Canadian, three French and two Germans, yet really I think we all somehow have just shown up on the Camino and in some ways don´t know why but we all know that we have found something special in the friendships and community that spring up so unexpectedly along the way.  Orietta said that God is not the man with the white beard hiding round the corner, he sits at the table with the pilgrims breaking bread, this is the everyday sacred that exists here. 
I agree with her.

The Rain in Spain

The rain in Spain does not stay mainly in the Plain, because yesterday it poured all day long and I walked through it.  Red rivers of mud flowed down the hills and it made for really heavy going but at least my poncho kept me dry.  My boots were caked in mud and my pants had stretched by about 6 inches and were dragging in the dirt.  At one point there was not a soul except me on the route and I was making up a song and singing at the top of my lungs, what a picture.  I did have several moments when I wondered what on earth I was doing walking in the rain on Easter Sunday when all the family was sitting down to a lovely dinner but now today I find myself at the Albergue sponsored by Paulo Coelho.  It is an old stone house with stone floors, wooden beams and woodstoves.  Ten beds only and on the wooden posts at the end of my bed there are four angels and I am reminded of the childhood prayer about Matthew, Mark, Luke and John and the angels protecting me.  An evening meal is being prepared for us by the hospitaleros so the seven of us who have stumbled upon this little piece of paradise will share a meal together.  It is quite a difference from the big refugios I have been staying at but so welcome because I was exhausted and had hit a wall after yesterday's walk. 
Life is strangely intensified here and small things matter, just things we take so much for granted - hot showers, a warm bed to crawl into.
There is a notice posted in the bedroom:
The tourist demands, the pilgrim thanks.  I now know the difference.

Racing for a Refugio

Today I arrived in Najera.  Gratefully the rain has held off in the day and fallen through the night which deepened the green of the wheat fields and the yellow of the path taking us through them.  Vineyards spread out for miles on either side and red poppies start to punctuate the yellow gorse.  Sadly this scenery is behind me and passing through some modern cities and industrial areas, I really missed all that had gone before.  After two of my longest days of walking (27 kms and then today 30 kms) I am now 595 kms from Santiago.  The day starts quite early because it is essential to get going as there is a bit of a race to the refugio to get a bed.  Later in the day it becomes much harder as I found out yesterday in Logrono and this is where trust comes in.  Logrono has very elaborate Easter celebrations and the whole town was jumping last night which seems a bit weird since it was Good Friday but there was a procession through the streets with men carrying crosses and Jesus on the cross, it was quite amazing but there was no room at the inn and Carmel from Australia called everywhere in town and the report from each was "completo".  It would be easy to panic but we found ourselves at a hostel run by the church where overflow mattresses were spread over every available surface. I think the priest took pity on two old broads and showed us a room that I think was his with two single beds.  Brilliant.  There is a huge difference in the feeling and energy of the refugios that are run by volunteers or the church and those that are run for profit.  The spirit of the Camino is so much more evident in the former.  Little bits of grace come every day if I pay attention.  The little man at the market in Estella who charged me 1 euro for 2 oranges and 2 bananas and then handed me my change on a free tangerine and the people who appear just when I need them.  This is the Camino.

Finding peace on the Camino

Today I walked about 20 kms after having a quiet day yesterday at the Refugio at Cizur Menor just outside Pamplona.  My shoulders ached and I worried that the muscle pain would get worse and dreaded picking up my heavy pack once more.  I had stayed overnight at the Refugio in Pamplona even though I had considered staying at the Hotel de la Playa where Hemingway stayed and where his room, #217 is still available with original furnishings, for a modest 520 euros a night!  I saw the Plaza de los Toros and followed the path of the running of the bulls (and no Lynn, I was not wearing red).
The walk today took me through rolling hills with views reminiscent of Tuscany.  Spring follows me along the route and wisteria dripped from the balcony of the refugio and lilacs bloom in the gardens of the little villages we pass through.  Apple blossoms, wild thyme and yellow gorse dot the path and fields of yellow wildflowers contrast with the brilliant green that the province of Navarre boasts at this time of year.
I took off my still heavy backpack and sat down for a rest.  The fields on either side of the route stretched beyond where the eye could see, so I looked to see what was planted there.  Peas.... peas, finally I had found peas on the Camino.  Maybe I need to make my prayers clearer but I do think God has a great sense of humour.

Ultreia

Steinbeck wrote that we don't take a journey, a journey takes us.  The Camino is taking me.  Today I passed through little villages nestling at the base of the Pyrenees where smoke snaked from chimneys and bells from stone churches tolled to remind me to stay present. A shepherd herded his sheep across the road just after I crossed it, time stand still here. Then I thought to myself, "maybe this Christian pilgrimage will make a Buddhist out of me?"  Mindfulness and staying present are a good place to start and essential on this trip. 

I made it to Zubiri today and tomorrow hope to get to Pamplona.  I have but one prayer to say, "Please God, can I have a bottom bunk next time?"

Over the Pyrenees

I am waiting here in Roncevalles for my pilgrim meal.  I am absolutely starving, I suppose walking over the Pyrenees will do that to a person.  The first ascent to the refugio/gite called Orisson was especially steep and then today we climbed the rest of it and now have come down the other side.  1400 ft.  It is an amazing sight to see: a steady stream of pilgrims behind and in front, snaking up and down the trail.  All ages and nationalities.  The one little walker who passed me a couple of times today is from Kent, England and she is 77.  Needless to say I made no complaints to her.  The advice I was given by those who had done this walk before was: just show up, no whining and stay open, good life advice anyway.  Metaphors abound here.  I am, for instance, carrying much too much baggage and the ache in my back is a great reminder of this.  Coming from Lourdes where I spent two days, it is a huge reminder to be grateful for the good health to do this. What a sight to see that is.  I never expected it to be so moving with lines of sick people being pulled along in the big blue wheelchairs and the mass for the sick so well organised.  I think the miracle of Lourdes is all the young people who volunteer to help there and the love and care they give to those they serve, such kindness.  The grounds and the Grotto are beautiful though with all the souvenir shops it feels just like Niagara Falls.  I actually went into the baths too, quite an experience.
Oh, I forgot, I´m in Spain, maybe someone could whip me up a little sangria.
Hasta la vista

My bags are packed....

After weeks of preparation and with my backpack loaded after a couple of re-packings, I am set to go.  I have laced up my boots, checked final details and prepare to take the first steps towards walking the Camino, the pilgrimage route of approximately 800 kms.  Destination - Santiago de Compostela.  Here lie the bones of St. James the Apostle but many taking this route have no belief in saints, church or even God.  Maybe I will discover what compels us all to take this journey.