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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
