Camino de Santiago

From Sarria to Portomarin (22 km)

I dilly dally this morning and don´t get on the road until 8:30.  I had a great sleep in my private room last night and actually sleep in until 7:30.  I pop into the Albergue that did my laundry to check my email and then I stop again for breakfast.  I couldn´t resist the breakfast buffet on offer, such a nice change from the usual breakfast of coffee and white toast or croissant.  There was fresh fruit, yogurt, granola, an assortment of juices, cakes and toast.

The weather is strange this morning.  The air is quite crisp, and there are big clouds in the sky, some even threaten rain.  But when the sun peeks through, it is quite hot.  I can´t get comfortable this morning, I am either too hot or too cold.  And it doesn´t  help that the trail is still very hilly, so I get really hot as I go up, and then cool off as I go down.  The scenery is just as beautiful as yesterday.  But today I feel quite tired and I walk more slowly than usual.

View of Sarria as I leave town.

The Camino is very crowded today. Sarria is about 110 km from Santiago and many people start their journey here.  It feels very touristy all of a sudden where people are wearing their city clothes and city shoes, they look and smell fresh and clean, they are talking on their cell phones, carry little day packs or even handbags.  You can easily spot the pilgrims who have been walking many days….we don´t look too clean, and we probably don´t smell all that great either.  Our packs are larger and definitely more worn out.  Everyone I talk to today is talking about the change of atmosphere on the Camino….and we are very disappointed with this change.  It seems like we are in the middle of a tourist attraction now.

The 100 km marker is popular – everyone wants a picture of it.
I can’t believe I am so close to Santiago, but still days away. 

Five km from Portomarin, I run into Arpad, one of my new Camino friends and one of the pilgrims I had dinner with a few nights ago when Alex was trying to get a rise out of me over taking the bus.  He is still walking very slowly, but I decided to slow down to his pace and walk into Portomarin with him.  We have such an interesting conversation along the way.  First he observes what a spiritual person he thinks I am based on the way I handled Alex and the bus issue. We talk a lot about being in the present, in the moment.  We hear this so much these days, but it really is difficult to practice.  He talks about not being attached, which he believes is the way to real happiness and contentment.  He follows the teachings of a spiritual leader named Eckhart Tolle, a German who lives in Canada.  He is surprised I have never heard of him. I must admit I find many of the concepts he is talking about quite difficult to grasp and he urges me to listen to Tolle.  I am quite fascinated by these new ideas.

Even though we are walking so slowly, time flies as we are engrossed in such a deep and meaningful conversation.  Once we arrive in Portomarin, he continues on and I look for a place to sleep.  The first Albergue I look at also offers private rooms and again I opt for my own room.  It costs twice as much as a dorm bed, but it is still cheap at 20 Euros.  I notice that I am in a self-nurturing place and I am happy I am taking such good care of myself.  This journey has been long and hard, and I am tired now.  So a little bit of comfort goes a long way to making the remaining days easier to cope with.

After the usual routine, I settle on a patio for some food and drink.  Here I meet new pilgrims, it is so easy to meet people and start a conversation because we all have this common bond, the Camino.  As I finish my meal, I notice Frances and Glenn walk into the main square.  I head over to say hi and mention where I am staying.  Sure enough, they check it out and take the private room next to me.  We are all laughing about how they now know to just hold back and let me stake out the rooms because I always seem to find a good one for all of us.

A group of tourist pilgrims which is what I call these new, not so serious pilgrims on the Camino check into the Albergue.  I hope I don´t sound too judgemental, because I don´t mean it in a negative way, just to distinguish those who are walking the Camino as a tourist attraction versus those who are walking it for other reasons.  Well, the tourist pilgrims take over the entire downstairs dorm including the garden.  They are having a big party, and are cooking up a storm at 10:30 at night.  Now you have to understand, most Albergues have lights out at 10:00 and they rigidly enforce this rule.  Besides, we are usually so tired that many are already asleep well before lights out.  I am really surprised to see this new group having a party and I feel very sorry for the few pilgrims in the dorm who are trying to sleep.

It is so noisy now and I am feeling a little irritated.  I go to the hospitalero and ask what time is lights out.  She says 11:00, but I doubt this party is going to end as it is just revving up.  At 11:30, this group are well on their way to getting drunk and are hollering and yelling in the garden.  I am so not impressed.  I get the second pillow and put it over my head, and practice my deep breathing which has become a very effective way to put myself to sleep.  Within moments I am fast asleep, and sleep right through the night in spite of the loud party below.

From Triacastela to Sarria (22 km)

Sabina fills me in this morning about the Japanese pilgrim who had collapsed at my feet yesterday.  The ambulance arrived after 23 minutes and when he was carried out in the stretcher, he was all smiles waving to everyone. Seems like he was going to be ok, tragedy averted.

I examine my feet before starting out and can hardly believe that I have no new blisters and all my other blisters are in various stages of healing.  And I have no pain in my feet this morning when I take my first few steps.  A lightness has settled in my heart and I as I set out at around 8:00 this morning, I think it is going to be an easy day.

Day 23 and no bandaids!  Woohoo!

It is another cold and foggy start to the day, very humid too.  Lots of up and down over the moutain through beautiful scenery.  I am reminded of the cloud forest in Mindo, Ecuador although it is much colder.  The vegetation is lush and everything is wet from the mist.  It is a long walk to my first cup of coffee, 14 km this morning.

Today I reflect on some of the things that have happened on the Camino. What happened on the road to Astorga still puzzles me but I can now see how that was a turning point in my journey, the point after which I started to heal.  I must admit that I have felt the presence of a strong force or energy on the Camino. Perhaps it has been because of my openness that I have felt this energy, I am not really sure.  I don´t even know what to call it: it feels like a strong energy that draws me towards people or  pushes me away.  Is this what people call God?  I have experienced it as a strong energy, without personality, just something beyond our physical selves.  I am reluctant to call this God because that conjures up too much from my past.  When I think of God, I think of religion and what I have experienced on the Camino has nothing to do with religion.  I have had a spiritual journey without a doubt, but not religious in any sense.

I have suffered much physical pain and I have faced a lot of emotional pain as well.  As my feet are healing, so too is my spirit.  I feel a greater force has been at play throughout this journey.  I used to think that life is just full of random coincidences but it seems impossible for me to explain all the has happened to me on the Camino as randomness.  I know my heart was closed tight after my Jehovah´s Witness experience, but now I think it has been opened, if only just a crack.  I began the Camino as an atheist, and that has not changed.  But now I will concede that perhaps there is a force greater than us that I will call an energy although I´m sure some will call it God (but I won´t, I hope you understand).

So I have experienced this energy on the Camino, although I have never witnessed it in my day to day life.  Maybe one needs to be open to it to let it move us, to move through us.  There is so much to think about as I walk on the Camino this morning.  The path this morning winds through forests that are shrouded in mist, quite magical.  I feel a lightness of heart this morning, like I want to celebrate, to rejoice.

What to do when a herd of cattle are heading your way?  Yield, of course.
Especially when they have big horns!

When I finally reach a place to have a coffee, Alex and Arpad are already there.  Alex tells me there is a fiesta in Sarria tonight and I think I am ready for a party and think that perhaps I will stop at Sarria today, even thought I think I can walk further.

As I make my way towards Sarria, I think I would like to stay in a private room tonight, a little bit of pampering.  I don´t need anything fancy, just a little room with a single bed, that has a locked door.  I begin to imagine my little room where I will stay tonight, in fact, I have a very clear picture in my mind of what it looks like.  I am certain I will find my room in Sarria; the Camino has not let me down yet!

When I arrive in Sarria, I am surprised at how large this town is.  I pass by a big hotel but don´t even bother to take a look at their rooms.  I know they will be expensive and an impersonal hotel room is not what I have in mind.  I stop into a ¨Pension¨ that advertises rooms (as opposed to beds) and I am disappointed to learn rooms start at 45 Euros, a little more than I wanted to pay.  I describe to the man at the Pension that I am looking for a little room, nothing fancy, don´t need a private bath, just a little room with a little bed and some privacy.  Well, he suggests I stop in at a restaurant a block up the street, he thinks the lady there might be able to help me.

When I walk into the restaurant, Camino Frances, there is no indication that they have beds or rooms, it is just a little mom and pop restaurant.  I ask the lady if she has a room.  Yes, she does, and she takes me upstairs to take a look. She has four rooms that she rents, and as I enter the hallway to the rooms, I notice how sparkling clean the floor is, and how everything smells of fresh laundry. When she opens to the door to my room, it is the exact room I have been imagining all morning – small, modest, simple bed, window, and a locked door.  And it is only 15 Euros.  Sold!

I now learn that the woman and her husband are French speaking which is a bonus for me, now I can communicate with much more ease.  When I explain I want to do my laundry in a  machine – washer and dryer – she says she will take me to another Albergue up the street and arrange it.  So for 6 Euros, I get all my clothes and towel washed and dried.

The French lady who was so kind and helpful.

Now that the laundry is taken care of, and I´ve already had my shower, I sit down to eat at a table outside the restaurant.  As soon as I sit down, Sabina walks up the street and joins me for a snack.  I haven´t seen her since the Albergue this morning.  She is continuing on to the next town.  We then see Alex who is eating lunch at another restaurant nearby.  And then Frances and Glenn stroll up, ask if the food is good, and decide to have their lunch here as well.  Finally, Arpad walks by, he is slower because of a bad knee, but he too is continuing on.  He doesn´t want to stop, because it looks like rain and he wants to miss it if he can.

Just as I finish my lunch, and say good bye to Sabina and Alex, it starts to rain.  I am so glad my clothes are not hanging on a line outside today.  Glenn and Frances head indoors to finish their lunch and I go to my room for a nap.  When I awaken, I am surprised to see Glenn and Frances have decided not to walk in the pouring rain, but are staying in the room next to me.  They got the room for 25 Euro which is only 5 Euro more than two dorm beds.  They love their room, especially the window that looks out over the countryside.

Now I head out into the rain to look for an internet cafe.  I am wearing my blue plastic poncho that has been salvaged with duct tape and headphone wire, but it is ripping in new places.  It is pouring now, coming down in buckets, and I think my poncho is on it´s last legs.  I stumble upon a great trekking store that has everything you could imagine, including good rain gear and foot wear.  Now that my feet on on the mend, I decide not to bother looking at the shoes, but I do end up buying a rain coat that will cover my back pack.  It is a good brand (Altus) – the brand I remember that was recommended on the Camino forums – and it was only 28 Euros.  I figured it was worth it for the peace of mind.  I asked the lady in the store to take a picture of me in my plastic poncho before I throw it in the garbage.  As I walk out into the rain in my new raincoat, I think I can handle any kind of weather that will come my way over the next week.

Saying goodbye to my cheap plastic poncho
in the shop where I splurge on a good one.

I find the internet cafe which also has a bar so I get to enjoy a nice cold beer while I knock off three more posts.  I hate getting so behind on the blog, but getting access to a decent computer and internet is so unpredictable.  Now I’mm only a couple of days behind, and I feel much better.

At 9:00 I head back to the restaurant and have a small dinner, not the pilgrim’s menu.  A large plate of pasta with tomato sauce, tuna, and melted cheese along with two glasses of wine sets me back a mere 5 Euros.  As I eat, I write today’s journal entry before calling it a night.  I am so comfortable and cozy in my little room enjoying simple little pleasures like being able to turn the light off when I am ready to.  Oh, and about that party, apparently it is not until the weekend, I’ll be long gone but who knows maybe there will be a party in the next town.

From La Faba to Triacastela (25.5 km)

During the night I decided to switch beds because I was surrounded by loud snorers, and there was no back support in my bed.  I’m sure I was breaking all sorts of rules but it was the middle of the night and the German lady was nowhere to be seen.  I went to the other end of the room where Sabina was sleeping – she had unwittingly settled into a bunk without the German lady’s permission and somehow managed to stay there even though she was asked to move.  I slept much better at that end of the room but I was quick to move back to my bunk at sunrise.

I still managed to get myself in trouble that morning when I had the nerve to put a bandaid on one of my toes in the kitchen.  German lady swooped in just before the bandaid went on and insisted I leave the kitchen.  I got rather annoyed with her because there was nowhere else to go where I could sit down and have proper lighting.  I told her this in English and with gestures and with a tone that made it clear I was not happy.  Well, to her credit, she found me a chair in the entrance way and made room on a shelf so I could put my medical kit somewhere.  Like I said yesterday, I think she meant well, she just came across rather rigid and harsh.

I am happy to get out of there at 7:30 when I begin my trek up the second half of the mountain.  It is a beautiful morning, the sun is rising and there is mist on the distant hills.  Absolutely glorious.  My feet are feeling good, only two bandaids on my little toes today.  Life is looking pretty damn good.  I reach the top of the mountain around 9:30 and stop in the town for a coffee. This little town is incredibly touristy with shops already open with all kinds of Camino souvenirs for sale.

In the coffee shop, I meet Dawn and Deana who are in a bit of a bind – they have forgotten their passports and all their money back at the albergue.  Well, we are sure their stuff will be safe with the German lady but they need to find a way to contact her.  They are asking if anyone has the phone number of the albergue but no one does.  Sabina arrives and she has the phone number and she speaks both German and English so she is the hero of the day.  Sure enough the German lady has found the girls’ belongings and she assures Sabina they are safe with her.  She even offers to bring them up the mountain at 11:00 later in the morning.  Sabina gives the girls some money so they can pay their restaurant bill, and all is good again.  The girls head over to the church to thank God for the angels that have been sent their way this morning.

While all this drama unfolds in the coffee shop, the weather changes dramatically outside; a thick fog rolls in and the temperature drops significantly.  The fog is like a wet mist, so I bundle up in my rain jacket before heading back out on the Camino.  I am on the top of the mountain now, but the terrain is still very hilly as I traverse the mountain to the other side.  The path is beautiful though, very lush like walking through a rain forest.  Now and then the fog clears, showing off spectacular views of the valleys below.  The cows have their bells on again, reminding me of the days I walked through the Pyrenees mountains.  I actually stop at one point and video tape the cows, their bells were making the sweetest melody imaginable.

Somewhere along the road, I meet up with Sabina and we walk together the rest of the way.  She tells me a little about herself: born in Germany but currently working in Denmark as a translator (her English is perfect), she is 43 years old, never married, no children, but adores her nieces and nephews.  She has recently quit her job and is planning to relocate back to Germany, closer to her family.  She was a little upset about the way the German lady was treating everybody at the Albergue, and she vents a little.  She didn’t like being made to feel like a child.  We both agreed that the woman was well intentioned, but really missed the mark in making people feel welcome.

We arrive in Triacastela around 4:00 which is a little later than normal (lots of breaks today) and we wonder if there will be a problem getting a bed.  No, there are lots of beds in this little town.  After the usual routine, we head down to a bar for a beer (guess that’s part of my usual routine too 🙂 There we meet Alex from England and Angel from Spain, both unemployed and both are talking about doing another Camino as it is a pretty cheap way to live, under 30 Euros a day.  Arpod from Hungary joins us later at the table.  Sabina knows these guys, but this is the first time I have met them.  We end up having dinner together.  The food in this region of Galicia is markedly different, and better than what we’ve been eating so far.  Even the bread has changed and is now a lovely chewey texture.  The house wine is delicious too.

When Alex hears I have taken the bus, he tells me I´m not a real pilgrim and tries to give me a hard time, sort of joking but also a little serious.  He is definitely a purist and taking a bus is definitely against his rules.  I resort to humour to lighten the conversation, saying jokingly, show me the rule book, maybe we have different rule books.  Still I can see he thinks less of me because I have taken the bus, and I really don’t care.  I tell him that it is the journey that is important to me, not the number of kilometres I have actually walked.  I hold my head high and refuse to be intimidated or worse, shamed by him for taking a bus.  Frances has now joined our table as well (remember the brother and sister pair I met on the bus).  Both Sabina and Frances have taken the bus, but neither offer this information – maybe they’ve already had this conversation with Alex.

Alex then tells us  a story of how he walked the 8 km into Burgos after a long 32 km day only to find all the beds were taken when he arrived at the Municipal Albergue.  He says bitterly that all the cheating pilgrims who took the bus got the beds and there wasn’t a single one left for him.  He actually walked on to the next town.  I asked him why he didn’t take a bus. He replied that when he began his pilgrimage he made a rule that he would walk every kilometre, no matter what.  He admitted it was his pride and ego that day that prevented him from bending his rule.  Now he is bitter and resentful towards pilgrims like us at the table.  I look at him squarely in the eyes and suggest perhaps the Camino was trying to teach him something.  He gives me a strange look but the moment is lost because of what happens next.

I suddenly feel a dead weight push against my chair – an older Japanese pilgrim has collapsed right behind me.  I feel the full weight of his body pinning me against the table.  A rush of people come to his aid.  He tries to stand only to collapse again, this time scraping his legs on the pavement.  Someone calls an ambulance, and a few minutes later, he is able to get up and they take him into the restaurant to wait for the ambulance.  Frances astutely observes there are signs that he is having a stroke.

We are all shaken by this incident.  We have seen the crosses along the Camino where people have actually died during their pilgrimage and we are hoping we haven´t witnessed yet another fatality.  Alex now tells us another story of man who died on the Camino (I don´t remember when this happened).  The man had been walking for several days and was telling people how happy he was.  At the age of 50, he had just completed his psychology degree and was excited to be embarking on a new career.  One night on the Camino, he went to sleep and never woke up again.  What did he die of, I asked.  Alex suggested he either died of too much happiness or old age.  And he was dead serious.

At this point, I am feeling quite fatigued so I make my exit and head back to the Albergue where I get ready for bed.  It has been a good day for me, the first day where there have been no new blisters.  I figure my feet are going to be perfect by the time I stroll into Santiago.  I notice that not only are my feet healing, but my heart and spirit are healing too.  I feel a deep inner peace that I have never felt before.  I don´t know what the next few days will bring, but I feel like the hardest part is now behind me.  I think (hope) it will be clear sailing ahead.

From Villafranca to La Faba (23.1 km)

Frances, Glenn and I wake up at 6:30; we are all feeling refreshed after a good night´s sleep.  Breakfast is included in our hotel rate, and I linger over a second cup of coffee, sending off a few emails before I start me day.  Frances and Glenn head off ahead of me and I am sure I will see them again.

This is the first day that I have no piercing pain in my feet.  It´s a bloody miracle and it´s about time!  I put on my shoes and walk a few steps – no pain!  I still have three festering blisters I must tend to and others in various stages of healing.  My feet still feel very tender, but there is no searing pain today.   I am beyond joy!

This is what a happy pilgrim looks like before she starts here day!

I set out on the Camino just after 8:00 and I am full of piss and vinegar.  There is a definite hop to my step this morning and I feel euphoric in this pain free state.  I laugh when I pass a man who says to me:  You have happy, energetic walking sticks.  He has been listening to the click, click, click of my sticks coming up behind him for a while now.  And they make him smile.  He is right, I am exuding happiness and energy right into my sticks.  Not only are my feet healing, but I feel a huge weight has lifted from my heart, and I feel an inner peace I have never felt before.

Villa Franca soon disappears in the distance.

There are three possible routes from which to choose today but I only see the signs for one route and that is the one I follow.  The path follows a roadway on the right and a river on the left.  I don´t like being so close to the road, but there are very few cars and the scenery is very beautiful now that I am back in the mountains.  Such a welcome change from the flat farmlands I have been enduring these past days.  I am happy to be in the mountains although the path is following the valley floor right now, still very flat.  I know it will soon ascend up a high, steep mountain and I am looking forward to the physical challenge of it.

At 10:00, I stop for my second breakfast – freshly squeezed orange juice and a tuna empanada.  Both are delicious but quite a lot more food than I am used to eating while walking.  Afterwards I feel sluggish as I digest my food.  At noon I take another break and when I take off my socks and shoes I am dismayed to see another blister starting on the side of my foot, a brand new location.  I hope I have caught it early enough as I bandage it up expertly.  When I start walking again, the familiar pain is back, and it takes me by surprise but I try not to get discouraged.  I have walked a whole morning without pain, and for this I am grateful.

And now the steep ascent begins, just as my energy is sagging and my feet are crying out.  I decide I will stop at the next town that has an Albergue that is run by German volunteers.  It is described as an excellent albergue in a beautiful location.  That will be home for me tonight.

When I arrive, I am relieved to find there are many beds.  There is an older German woman who is very much in charge.  She only speaks German and is quite frustrated that she can´t make herself understood to me.  I select a bed and put my sleeping bag on it, the usual routine, only to have the German woman come over to me and in a very chastising voice she makes it clear that it is she who assigns the bed.  She then sees my walking sticks and is aghast that I have not put them in the holder at the door.  I indicate I will fold them and put them in my bag but she seems to think they must be put in the hallway.  I don´t care, they are going in my bag.  She is clearly not pleased with me.

Peaceful surroundings enticed me into this Albergue.
Little did I know what was in store for me. 

The first bed I picked before being ushered to a bunk at the back of the room.

She then goes on and on about something about the shower and the light.  I don´t speak German so I don´t know what she is saying.  I shrug my shoulders and she gets exasperated with me, and seems to think that if she talks long enough, somehow I will understand.  Well, I soon find out what she was saying when I turn the light off in the shower. The door was partially ajar when I did this and she was standing right there as if waiting to catch me in the act.  She yells at me, clearly upset that I have disobeyed her.  She doesn´t seem to grasp that I have no clue what she is saying.

My final transgression, at least for now, is when I go into the kitchen and turn on the kettle to make myself a cup of tea.  She comes in and asks angrily who has turned on the kettle.  Everyone in the kitchen, all Germans, point to me.  Now what have I done?  Don´t I know that she has just prepared a pot of tea for everybody?  No, I don´t and by now I´m a bit fed up with this woman and her silly rules so I show her my tea bag and indicate that I am making my own damn cup of tea.

I am watching her now as she mills around the kitchen, fretting about this and that.  She seems to be on the lookout for the next pilgrim to break one of her rules.  I can see she is not mean spirited, she is just trying to run the hostel in the best way she knows how.  She even offers me a cookie when my tea is ready, a peace offering.

She reminds me of my mother and the way I was brought up.  There were many rules in my house, and I have vivid memories of being chastised constantly. How frustrating it must have been for my mother who was just trying to run a household in the German manner, where cleanliness and orderliness reign supreme.  With seven children under foot, there was always someone getting into trouble for something.  Watching this woman now, actually made me smile as I thought fondly maybe a little sadly too of my own mother.  I think we all might have been a lot happier, my mother included, with a lot fewer rules.

This place must be highlighted in the German guidebooks because it is a mecca for the Germans who are arriving in hordes.  And these Germans are a noisy bunch so I seek a little bit of peace and quiet in the church right next door.  Imagine my surprise when I enter to hear singing coming from within.  There are two young girls in the last row of pews, singing what I think may be the Vespers, although I don´t really know what Vespers are.  I remember Chris telling me he heard nuns singing in the evening and I think this must be the same thing.  I sit in the back of the church, careful not to disturb them.  They have voices like angels, singing in perfect harmony.  I listen for a while, and then I get up and head for the only bar in town, the physical body needs to be tended too as well.

While I eat and drink, the young girls come along with another women.  The girls are American, Dawn and Deana.  The woman is German, but living in Denmark, her name is Sabina.  I am so grateful they all speak English and we all talk about the German lady in the Albergue and we have  a good laugh as we share our respective infractions, of which we have all committed a few.

Later at the albergue, Deana gives me a lesson in tatting which is a technique used to make lace.  They are surprised that I know what tatting is, but I confess I only know this because of a visit to Colonial Williamsburg many years ago where I remember seeing a woman doing it.  Since I can crochet lace, I find this technique to be very interesting.  These girls are very religious but they are not nuns.  I am quite curious about them but don´t really have a chance to talk to them today.  Maybe further down on the Camino our paths will cross again and I can ask them about their singing in the church.

I go to bed very early, while everyone has gone to the church for what I thought was mass, but was actually a pilgrim´s blessing.  I am so tired today, but I am also feeling so at peace, like a huge burden has been lifted from my heart.  And my feet are healing too…..life is good again on the Camino.

From Hospital de Orbigo to Astorga (18 km)

From Astorga to VillaFranca by bus

I am on the Camino around 8:00 am and I am trying to figure out a strategy for the remaining days.  I want to walk each day, as far as my miserable feet will take me.  I know I must take a bus at some point because I simply don´t have enough time to walk the entire way to Santiago. Today I decide I will walk 18 km to Astorga where there is a bus station.  From there, I will figure out what to do next.

I think my feet are feeling better this morning until I squeeze them into my hiking shoes and take my first steps.  The familiar pain hits me, and I am almost sick to my stomach.  I know the routine now, just force myself through the pain to get into my stride and then ignore it as much as possible.

When I reach the first open restaurant, I walk by it because I have already had a nice breakfast at the albergue although I have not had a coffee yet.  I turn around and go back for a coffee and a bathroom break.  Who knows when the next restaurant will appear.

As I sit at a table outside, I hear a familiar voice a few blocks away.  I listen intently, quite certain I recognize the voice.  Sure enough, I see Chris coming around the corner, along with the guy on the recumbent bike who I met a few days ago, but I don´t remember his name.  Chris doesn´t see me and I watch him as he is laughing and talking with this guy, stopping to take some pictures and then goofing off near the water fountain, posing for some silly pictures.  As he approaches, he sees me and expresses surprise.  What are you doing here? he asks me.  I thought you would be way ahead of me since you are taking buses now.  Oh, how his words cut me to my core.  Doesn´t he know the pain I am in?  Doesn´t he know that every step is agony for me? I reply simply that my feet are still bothering me with blisters.  He tells me his feet are perfect.  Perfect?  What do perfect feet feel like?  I can´t even imagine.

More of his friends arrive, and he is distracted greeting them.  Everyone in his little group seems quite jovial, having fun.  Chris does mention he has some pain in his shins and is thinking about taking a bus soon.  But then he is talking to his friends, greeting the Swedish girl who I also met some time ago, but whose name I now forget.    Everyone in this group seems so happy, Chris included, laughing and joking.  Am I the only one suffering on this Camino? All of a sudden, I feel my lower lip quivering, and my eyes are glassy.  I don´t belong here amongst these happy pilgrims.  I don´t belong in this group.  I don´t belong with my husband.

I get up quickly, put on my pack and say Bye Chris, without looking at him.  He has been busy with his friends not paying much attention to me, and I sense his surprise at my abrupt departure.  I walk away as fast as I can.  I can feel Chris´ eyes on me.  He must be wondering what the hell is up with me.  What is my problem?  But I don´t care, I have to get away.

As I go around the corner, the tears come, fast and furious.  I am sobbing and I cannot stop.  I pass other pilgrims, the Camino is busy this morning, but I don´t care.  I keep walking as fast as my crippled feet will take me.  I cry and cry.  I let out all my pain and frustration and suffering.  The sense of not belonging with Chris and his group has triggered something far deeper.

I am acutely aware of a deep sense of loneliness, one that has been with me all my life, for as long as I can remember.  Some days ago, I shared with you my loneliness for female companionship, but this loneliness is far deeper, it permeates to my core, to my very soul.  I have spent my life struggling with this loneliness, with this feeling that I don´t belong.

The world seems so superficial to me.  People seem superficial.  I pretend.  I pretend to care about the things most people care about, the superficial things.  I pretend so I can fit in, so I can feel that I belong.  But it is not really who I am.  I yearn to be around people who are deeper, who are willing to share themselves, to be vulnerable, to let themselves be known.  But most people stay on the surface, and they seem to like it that way.  Am I the only one that feels this way?  I feel like I don´t belong in this world, I just don´t belong anywhere.  And I want to belong somewhere.  I don´t want to be alone.

In the moment I saw Chris with his happy group, I saw how different we are.  I see how I hold him back too.  I see we are from different worlds, cut from different cloth.

As I am walking and sobbing and thinking about these things which only makes me cry harder, I pass by the Italian man who made me the sandwich in Granon, many days ago.  I don´t even know his name. I am so surprised to see him, and as I pass, I say a quick hello without looking at him.  He recognizes me as I pass but he also sees my tear stained face.  Further ahead, I step off the path, as I feel suffocated by so many people around.  I let people pass and I decide to take my daily video which is really pathetic as I´m not even coherent, just a blubbering pilgrm. I guess I´m not even thinking straight.  Well, my Italian friend also steps off the path, and stands next to me.  He takes a photo and then just stands next to me, very close.  He doesn´t say a word, and I can´t look at him, I am feeling too raw.  He just stands next to me for a few minutes, and then as he passes me to leave, he wishes me a Buen Camino.

A little further ahead, I find a private spot under a tree that shields me a little from the busy path.  I sit down and take off my shoes and socks.  I notice the bandages are a bloody mess but I decide in this moment my feet must take care of themselves as I have more important matters of the heart to tend to.  I feel I must write about what has happened, what is happening, I just need to release it.  And so I sit for quite a while, writing in my journal, resting on my back pack.  When I am done, I know something important has happened, although I am not sure what it means.  I feel much better now, and put my socks and shoes on and get back on the Camino.

As I ease back into my stride, I suddenly have an epiphany.  My blistered feet are a blessing, not a curse.  They have forced me to slow down, they have humbled me, they have been my teacher.  And in this moment of understanding, I am overcome with a deep sense of calm.  What happens next is very strange and I don´t understand it.  I will just describe it.  I feel like I am floating, that somehow I am separate from my physical body that has caused me so much pain.  In this moment, I understand myself, I accept myself, I love myself.  I continue to walk but I feel no pain, I feel nothing, I am in a dreamy state.  I am thinking how strange and wonderful I feel.  I am sure I haven´t lost my mind, because I am having coherent thoughts, like wow, what is going on here.  I don´t want to forget this experience.  I need to write this in the blog.  This dreaminess subsides after awhile, but the rest of the walk into Astorga is a blur. The last 10 km pass by and I have lost my sense of time.

From a distance, I can see the cathedral of Astorga and I am drawn to it, I do not know why.  I just know that I must go to the cathedral and from there I will decide what to do next.

My first glimpse of Astorga and the Cathedral. Little did I know at this point
that the bus station was right beside the Cathedral! 

Before I reach the cathedral, I see Marcel, the guy with the recumbent bike sitting at a cafe with another guy who looks familiar.  I stop and say hello and it turns out that we have never met, although both know Chris well.  I ask them if they know where the bus station is and also can I join them to have a beer.  Both are shocked to learn that I am considering taking a bus at this point on the Camino.  Don’t I know what is ahead?  The famous cross on the mountain, where people leave a stone or some other momento which symbolizes leaving something behind, letting go of something.  How could I even think to miss this by taking a bus now?

The central square in Astorga is full of people – tourists, locals and pilgrims.

The cathedral that was closed by the time I reached it.

A pilgrim museum in the forefront (designed by the famous Spanish architect, Gaudi). Unfortunately, I missed seeing the museum as it closed at 2:00 on Sundays.

I consider what they have to say carefully and I consider all my options.  Hans suggests I go to his albergue, just around the corner from the cathedral (which by the way is now closed for siesta time), to talk to the hospitalero to get advice about the buses.  He is confident that I will change my mind and stay the night in the albergue.

While I am chatting with these guys, Monique walks by.  This is the woman I met on my first day, my second camino friend, who is from Vancouver.  She is equally surprised to see me and I ask her for her contact info as I regretted not getting it the first day when I met her, especially since I haven´t seen her since.

At the albergue, the friendly, english speaking woman suggests I go to the bus station which is right behind the cathedral to see the bus schedules.  She warns me though that it is impossible to take a bus near the cross on the mountain – either I take a bus around the mountain from here, or I walk the mountain and take a bus further on down the road.

When I get to the bus station, a bus has just pulled in and a young couple enter the station.  They are looking at the schedule with me and mention they are going to Villafranca which is where I have decided to go.  They realize, too late, that they should have stayed on the bus they were on, which they had taken in Leon.  So they must now wait until 6:15 like me to catch the last bus of the day.

With a few hours to kill, I head back to the main square to get some food.  On my way, I run into Alf and Kathryn (to my immense delight).  They are looking for the albergue I was just in getting bus information and I offer to take them there because it is a little complicated to find.  At the albergue, I run into Monique again.  I want to invite her to join us, but she tells me she is heading off for a nap.

Once Alf and Kathryn are registered and have found a bed, we all go out for a beer together.  We spend a couple of hours together, and I am amazed at the things we talk about.  There is nothing superficial about this couple, I just knew were kindred spirits when we first met!

When we say our good-byes, I know I won´t see them again because I am jumping way ahead by bus.  They remind me of the invitation to visit them in Melbourne and they tell me they will be on the look out for Chris.  They are dying to meet him, the other Chris, and somehow I am quite sure their paths will cross, such is the way of the Camino.

Back at the bus station, the young couple arrive and I learn they are actually brother and sister, Glenn and Frances from Georgia, USA.  They have time constraints as well, so they did the first part of the Camino from St. Jean Pied de Port to Logrono, and are resuming the Camino for the last part from Villafranca to Santiago.  It´s interesting how we share a common bond because we are pilgrims.

The bus to Villafranca stops in every little village along the way, the milk run. It starts to rain hard, and I have a sinking feeling.  We are now going through the mountains again, and the scenery is stunning in spite of the rain.  When we arrive in Villafranca, the rain has subsided and it is a mere drizzle.  We walk together into town and we all decide to head to the same albergue on the other side of town.  We are shocked to learn that all the beds are taken, in fact, every bed in town is taken.  It is 8:30 in the evening, too late to go to the next town.  The kind hospitalero offers to call the hotels in town to see if by chance there is a room available.  He finds one room, with three beds, for 60 euros.  It´s more than any of us want to spend, but we take it, gratefully.

On the way to the Albergue in Villa Franca.

So here we are, virtual strangers just a few hours ago, sharing a hotel room.  I think I have made my first camino friends on this leg of the journey.  The room is lovely, with three single beds and a private, large bathroom. And free internet on a functioning computer – a bonus for me. I manage to post two blog entries and then head to bed.  We´re all asleep by 11:00 pm.

From La Virgen del Camino to Hospital de Orbigo (28 km)

I get up late today and take my time getting ready.  In fact, I am the last one to leave the Albergue at 8:00 in the morning.  Amazingly, my feet are not so swollen today, and I can walk without excruciating pain.  My feet hurt, but I think I can walk today so I decide to go as far as my feet will take me.

There is another choice to make today, almost immediately.  A right and left route; one follows the road and the other goes through the countryside.  I again choose the path less travelled through the countryside but almost immediately I think I may have made a grave error.  I only see two people on this path during the first 10 km, and the first two villages are closed up tight, no services whatsoever.  This route isn´t mentioned in the papers I have so I don´t know how long it will take to get to the next town.

Every time I stop for a rest, it is very painful to start up again.  I am walking very slowly today, taking many rests, and each step hurts.  At the beginning, I step very tentatively on my feet, gingerly trying to avoid the pain.  Ouch, ouch, ouch…until I force my foot down firmly and just work through the pain until I get into my rhythm.  I try to distract myself with my thoughts but today I find it hard to think about anything really positive.  I am still thinking it is near the end of the road for me, that my feet just won´t take me to Santiago.

I finally reach a town after walking about 10 km and there I find a large group of pilgrims at the restaurant.  I feel relief.  I am not alone.  I order a large coffee and tortilla, my favourite breakfast.  I take off my shoes and socks and examine my feet.  They are the same as this morning, no new blisters, so I think this is a good sign.

As I sit back and put my feet up, I listen to the conversations around me from all the unfamiliar faces.  It is soon obvious that these are all new pilgrims having just started in Leon.  When they hear I have come all the way from St. Jean Pied de Port, and I have been walking for 19 days, I receive instant pilgrim awe and respect. It makes me laugh; I don´t tell anyone that I am thinking of quitting here and now.

There is a couple who I am drawn to, Alf and Kathryn, a 30 something couple from Australia.  They seem so cute and innocent in their enthusiasm – this is their first day on the Camino and they have never stayed in a hostel they confess.  They have brand new, very clean, matching back packs and they just look so fresh and enthusiastic.  Their enthusiasm is infectious and it renews my energy and zeal.  Just thirty minutes earlier I was ready to quit but now I am thinking I can do it.  In fact, I am really enjoying my sudden ¨real pilgrim¨status and I answer all the questions that are thrown my way.  I feel energized by this crowd and set out with a renewed sense of determination that I will continue on.

I reach the next town quickly.  It was only 5 km away and all on a paved road which I find much easier to walk on.  The pebble paths are my enemy as they torture my feet and cause more blisters to form.

I must now make another decision.  I have only walked 15 km and I am feeling much better now.  My feet feel the same as when I started, and it is still early in the day, just noon.  I buy some orange juice and sit in front of the store trying to figure out what to do next – stay for the night or carry on.

All of a sudden, Alf and Kathryn come walking down the street and when they spot me they head straight for me.  They too are trying to decide if they should continue or not.  They have walked further than me, 21 km from Leon, and they wisely decide that they will stop here, take it easy on their first day.  We chat for awhile and I confess to them how miserable I was when I entered the last town, and how much their enthusiasm helped me to keep going.  They declare that I am their first Camino friend, and now they have their first Camino story, the story of how they unwittingly helped a pilgrim keep going.

Alf and Kathryn, my source of inspiration today!

Alf and Kathryn showing off their brand new, matching backpacks.

Amazingly, this beautiful couple spontaneously invite me (and Chris) to visit them in Melbourne.  They want us to stay with them so they can hear all about our adventures.  They are dead serious and very sincere.  I give Kathryn my notebook to write down her contact information, and in the margin, she writes:  We look forward to cooking you pavalova!! 🙂  Well, I have no idea what that is, but I just sense that these are kindred spirits.  I hope to see them again, and I hope Chris gets a chance to meet them too.

I decide to keep going.  It is 13 km to the next town, another long stretch but I think I have it in me.  Well, it turns out to be the longest 13 km imaginable.  I honestly don´t know what I was thinking.  Within a couple of kilometres, the path changes from pavement to a nightmare of pebbles.  Soon I can feel new blisters festering.  And the weather changes, first it becomes very still and humid, and then the wind picks up and there are storm clouds on the horizon.  I have no choice now but to keep going.

Thankfully, it only spits rain.  But I take out my refurbished, cheap plastic poncho which I had salvaged earlier with duct tape and wire from cheap airline headphones….I can be creative when I need to be.  It becomes very windy and my poncho holds up well.  When I reach a town, I think I have arrived, only to learn I still have 4 km to go.  This is only an hour of walking, but it feels like an eternity, especially now that I am walking painfully slow.

Cobblestone streets like this one entering Hospital de Orbigo are
excruciating for my feet.  I walk (or rather hobble) on the single row
of flat stones in the middle.  Who designed these roads anyways?
I meet Elizabeth (Mary Poppins) as I enter the town.  She asks
about my feet and is shocked that I am still suffering.

This has been a common sight lately: large  stork nests built
on the top of churches and other roof tops.

When I finally get into town, I choose to stay in an albergue a few blocks off the main Camino because my papers say it has vegetarian food and a communal meal.  Even though it is a little out of the way, it turns out to be a wonderful oasis, just what I need to rest my weary feet and soul.

The bed costs 9 Euros which is expensive in this area, but the dinner and breakfast are on a donation basis.  The owner registers me and then shows me around, pointing out his pride and joy – they best shower on the Camino.  It has a rain shower head, and pulsating jets along the sides.  It is wonderful.  This is a newly built albergue, that seems to be built with the needs of the pilgrim in mind.

After the usual routine (you must know the drill by now), I go into the common area to relax and write in my journal.  There are cushions on the floor where you can sprawl out.  Wonderful smells are coming from the kitchen, and a girl picks up a guitar and starts to play and sing the most beautiful music imaginable.  I think I have entered heaven, it is so peaceful here.  I am so relieved I don´t need to leave the albergue, all my needs are taken care of here.

Relaxing before dinner.

What a surprise to see Nicholas, the young father-to-be
from Edmonton who I met many days ago.
He has walked fast to get this far without a bus! 

Dinner is wonderful, my body craves vegetables and is duly satiated.  The tone is very subdued, not much conversation.  During dinner the girls plays the guitar again (she has been here for three days recovering from an illness -both physical and of the spirit she confides to me).  As she plays and sings, the owner starts drumming on a set of hand held drums, and we are mesmerized by this spontaneous performance.

After dinner, I offer to help with the dishes.  The owner has worked so hard preparing this lovely meal for us pilgrims and he is all alone in the kitchen. He tells me that usually he has two helpers but this is their day off.  He appreciates my offer, but he looks at me intently and says:  You are very tired, you must stay off your feet and rest.  You may stay here tomorrow if you like and recover.  I am amazed as I have said nothing to him about how I am feeling.  I guess my limp and hobble give me away.

I seriously consider staying another day to rest as I know my body needs it.  He offers free internet on his laptop and the thought of spending a day off my feet, getting the blog caught up, is very appealing.  But before bed, I log onto his laptop and I am so disappointed to find it completely unusable. It is impossible to type on this computer – the cursor bounces around the page randomly as I try to type.  It takes me ten minutes to write one sentence before I give up in frustration.  I am annoyed and decide I will keep going tomorrow.