Homestretch and homesick

Today was a rainy day, but my pack cover and poncho did well by me. Jett's kind of disgusted with me that I didn't use the umbrella he bought for me. (I did use it once, in the sun...)
The walk was beautiful: through a nature preserve. I covered about 17 km today, and was the first to arrive at the Albergue in Miraz. I'm still always so grateful to get a bed. I was just chatting with the hospitaleros, who said that last night, 19 pilgrims spent their night in the field adjacent, as the Albergue was full. Tonight, there's still two beds open, but they might fill up later. Lots of young people walking the last 100km, and I've still been fretting about whether or not I'll be able to get a bed every night. Relax, Jolie.

I've been homesick the past few days. Earlier this week, it was my halfway day: the midpoint of my time away from home. My "camigos" Miriam and Leontina told me about the halfway day phenomena: everyone is 'off' on their halfway day, depressed, cranky, or irritable. I was all of that and more. My homesickness has been quite pronounced, and I'm so ready to go home to my family and friends.
But I can't see anyone right away because I stink so bad. I'm just going to lock myself in the washroom and soak in the tub for a week. All my gear will be confiscated at the airport because they won't let anything that filthy into Canada. They'll just put a match to it, and it will immediately combust.

Numbers

Yesterday, I walked my 300th kilometer. Three hundred. In three weeks. Holy moly.

Today, I took the bus from La Isla to Gijon, then (after spending 6 hours in the city) Gijon to Vilalba. I'm now 150km from Santiago de Compostela, and 240 km from Finisterre ("the edge of the world").
Wish me luck. :)

Luxury and the Litany Against Fear

So I got lost in Llanes. There are three albergues listed in my guide book, but I couldn't find any of them, and I lost the Camino. Instead of being patient, I saw a highway sign that said the next town, Poo, was 3 km away. Well, I knew that Poo was on the Camino, so I said, I'll just walk on the highway, get a place at the Albergue at Poo, and it's all good.
Hot, ugly highway walking sucks.
And the Albergue was full. The tourist apartments next to them were full. Poo was full.
Except for the luxury hotel "El Camin". So I got a room there. For 80euros.
I took a shower, relaxed with the tv, went out for dinner, came back, had a hot bath, and slept in a room that did not have any strangers in it.
Had a shower in the morning. Then free fancy breakfast, taking my sweet time. Wrote in my journal, then made a pig of myself and had second breakfast.
I was so at my wit's end when I arrived... Crying, limping, just a mess. But my stay was sorely needed. I had been missing creature comforts, so I got a little fix. I hope it will be enough to take me through the next three weeks...

As I left the hotel, I thought, " I'll take the train... The station is right there, and I'm going to have to take it some time... I'm way behind." As I looked for the station to buy a ticket, I met some pilgrims from Germany. One had lost the tip off of one of her walking poles, so I gave her my spares. I didn't think it was a big deal, but she was overjoyed. They invited me to walk with them, and I accepted. It was a long day, but nice to walk with awesome people again.
We parted ways when the albergue we stopped at had only one bed. They told me to take it; they had energy to press on. (I found out later that there was an extension of the albergue about 800meters down the Camino, so they didn't have to walk to the next town.)
Today, I said (planning, again. When will I learn?) "I'm going to Ribadesella, and I will stay at such-and-such albergue, because the next pilgrim Albergue reportedly sucks." Well, guess which albergue is full? Guess who had to walk 5extra kilometers? And this albergue is fine. The bathroom is not the best, but the beds are great, and the yard is lovely. And there's beer in the coke machine.

But I spent much of my brainpower today afraid and fretting that I wouldn't find a place to sleep tonight. Tears shed along the way.
When I arrived at the Albergue, and realized I really had nothing to worry about, I found myself thinking about the Bene Gesserit litany against fear from Frank Herbert's Dune:
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

Gratitude and blessings

A full tummy, and a warm, dry bed. I am blessed.
Many people around me are struggling with blisters; I haven't had any on my feet. I am very grateful. I will never complain about having to hand-wash four socks everyday.
My muscles are sore, and I miss my creature comforts. But I'm looking forward to the challenge of walking tomorrow (from Buelna to Llanes).
My digestion has been improving. I bought dried fruit and nuts today at a farmer's market, and have been snacking much of the day. Very grateful for that.

Dialing life down. Trying to keep it simple. Being filled with gratitude for the "small things", which, really, are the biggest things in life.
And I'm thankful for you. Thanks for being there for me.

Companions and comprehension

A long day. It is very hot here, and high humidity. It is hard to walk, or do anything, when it is like breathing through a sponge.

I'm picking up more Spanish, and I can understand most of what people say if they speak slowly and the subject is in context. Numbers are getting easier, and I no longer need the cashier to print or display the amount I owe. It feels good. Still not speaking a lot, just briefly to order food or ask for a bed, but that's a start!

I am struggling with my digestion. A very upset stomach, and it has dragged on for quite a few days. I'm not sure what it's about: the food, the heat...? So I've been avoiding meat, rich food, and alcohol. :(

My brain has been okay. I've been homesick, but also very joy-filled along the way. I find myself warming to the challenges of the day. Around every corner is a surprise: a steep rocky incline lined with thornbushes, or a bubbly little stream, or a gorgeous view of the sea, or friends made along the way, or a beautiful albergue with a bed just for me.

I've been thinking about people. How I'm not the best friend, and how rarely I go visit or socialize with people. I'm realizing that I simply like to know that people are there. I can walk with someone on the path, and not exchange many words, but when we separate, I feel lonely.
Thank-you to all of you who have walked and are walking the path with me, literally and metaphorically. I like having you around.

Wandering

It is not the destination. It is the journey.
I'm starting to understand. I have  dipped my feet in the Cantabrian Sea. I have talked with people from all over the  world. In the last two weeks, I have travelled by plane, train, bus, car, boat, and foot.
Honestly, at this moment, it doesn't matter if I make it to Santiago de Compostela or not.

This process is indescribable.
Intense. Sublime. Painful. Beautiful.

Guardians and good-byes

After an extremely long night, in which I became sure that I had some kind of food poisoning, I decided to press on. The town of Noja was only 8km away, and had accommodation. I was lucky to catch up with a pilgrim who had helped me the nights before. Mirella from Como, Italy. She made sure I did not walk too fast, made sure I was eating, etc. I made it as far as Meruelo because of her. She went on to the next town, and it was very difficult to say good-bye.

I'm feeling much better today, and am about to sit down to a meal of soup and paella. I am hungry for the first time in a couple of days. I will sleep very well tonight.
I wish you all a nourishing evening, and send my love.

Whining

I don't have anything enlightening. I'm hot, tired, and sick. I was ready to come home last Friday, and I'm still considering it.
My "battery", if you will, is dead. I just walked 6 km along a beautiful beach, and didn't care.
I'm now at a Municipal Albergue, and it is located on a promontory in the Bay of Biscay. It stinks of fish. My stomach is having trouble as it is, but now this. Thinking about putting some muscle rub lotion on my nose to counter the stench.

I'm homesick, too.

Whine, whine, whine.

...later...
I think I had heat exhaustion. Along the beach there was a convenience store, and I bought a 1.5 litre bottle of Aquarius, which is the Spanish equivalent to GatorAde. That bottle is half gone now, 3 hours later, and I feel much better. I did eat a croissant this morning, although I had to force myself. I need to stay out of the sun. Perhaps I should walk super-early tomorrow, before the sun gets too high. Or maybe I'll try to stay here another day... I don't know. We'll see.

All plans are off. I find that the more planned out I have things, the more frustrated I get when those plans don't come through. So I'm trying my best to just "let it go", take it all day by day.
I suppose I should start to apply that to " real-life", as well. I can't be in control of everything. I need to learn how to have faith that things will work out, whether or not I planned down to the last detail.

Angels and acceptance

He doesn't speak the language
He holds no currency
He is a foreign man
He is surrounded by the sound
The sound
Cattle in the marketplace
Scatterlings and orphanages
He looks around, around
He sees angels in the architecture
Spinning in infinity
He says Amen! and Hallelujah!
-"You Can Call Me Al"
Paul Simon

The Camino de Santiago is an exaggeration of everything. Ten times the pain, ten times the peacefulness. It is very intense, and I am learning hard lessons about life and about myself.

I find it difficult to ask for, or even to accept an offer of help from anyone, but here, I have been completely at the mercy of others... Lost in cities, running out of water, having few language skills, feeling pain and frustration, and then, suddenly, angels appear. I must accept their help, whether it's a woman refilling my water bottle from her kitchen tap, or kids pointing me the right way when I am lost, or a fellow pilgrim bribing a hostel hostess to allow us to sleep on a floor. I must accept, though I know that I can never repay that person, or even adequately express my thanks. It is humbling and powerful.

I don't know how I'm even going to begin paying all of the kindness forward: there has been so much.

Ibuprofin and good works

Ever feel like you have been pulled through a knothole backwards? That's me, this morning.
Yesterday was hellish. I am from Saskatchewan... Not meant to be climbing mountains. Asphalt highways, sandstone paths, gravel, all at an incline of 15 to 50 degrees. Hurtin' for certain. Just popped an extra strength advil and drank a whole bottle of water... waiting for them to kick in.
At least it wasn't raining yesterday.

I'm staying at an albergue about 3.5 km out from Donostia/San Sebastian, run by a community of service workers. They have taken excellent care of me. I have been on the verge of tears for the last 24 hours, with pain, with joy, with relief.

Hobbits and beads

I love "The Lord of the Rings", and watch the films yearly, in a marathon showing with my dad. I re-read the books annually as well, usually in the summer. When I first started preparing for this trip, way back in Jan 2014, I began thinking of it as "there and back again". I'm going on an adventure!
The sketchbook and journal I will be using along the way are both embossed with Tolkien's illustrations from " The Hobbit ". 

Then I learned that a major city on my route is Bilbao (Bilbo). lol! I bought a copy of the elven brooch that the Fellowship wear, and it is pinned on my fannypack.

Also pinned on my pack is a pair of lampwork glass beads: bright orange with white dots. These were purchased for me (thanks, Shauna) with the intention that I take them on Camino. When I finish, I will send one of the beads to Beads of Courage, who will then give it to a child who is fighting an illness. It is a huge honour for me, and I wept when I was given the beads. So they will rattle with me across Spain.

   

Hamlet and holiness

Heading to a funeral today. It's at a church I never thought I'd go back to. The funeral is for a man that I've known for many years: he was the librarian at my high school and he was kind to me at a point in my life when I desperately needed kindness. His name is James. So it's not Saint James that will bring me back into a church, but librarian Jimmy. I'm apprehensive about going back to the little church that I converted in: although I head off tomorrow on a pilgrimage, religion, particularly Catholicism, makes me uncomfortable.
I need to remind myself that we're all just on our own journeys, and we're all human, and we all make mistakes.

...

After the service
A lot of the words of Saint James resonated with me today: Jimmy's life of generosity and kindness to his community fulfill St. James's words about good works being the heart of faith. My take on it: One can live without faith (ie: organized religion) but still display divinity through good works.

One of my very first jobs when I was a teenager was to help Jimmy in the library at the end of the school year sorting textbooks. I found a battered and water-damaged copy of Hamlet, and I asked Jimmy if I could have it, rather than throw it out. He exclaimed, colourfully, that the copy I was holding looked like someone had peed on it, and then he went and got a new-ish copy from his office. I don't know why he had it: it wasn't coded for library or textbook use. He gave it to me without any ceremony... but I remember that moment very clearly, even over fifteen years later.
I work now as a school librarian. And I still love Shakespeare.