There are as many reasons for doing the Camino as there are pilgrims. You hear this all the time. While here I have also noticed that there are many ways to do the Camino: on foot, by bike, horse (though I haven´t seen that yet), with your pack on your back, having someone transporting your pack for you to your next destination, in bits, by public transport, with other people, by yourself...
After Burgos there is an area of land called the Meseta. Many pilgrims take a bus from Burgos to Leon or try to walk the way and take a bus for at leat a portion of it. They lady who owns the Ospital de Peregrinos where I stayed in Rabé de las Calzadas told me that skipping the Meseta is a mistake because it is magical. I don´t know if it is magical, it´s certainly cool and for me, has probably been the most significant spiritual bit of the whole journey. The Meseta is where I decided to let go.
I know that I have said this before, but the Camino is like life. There are parts of the Camino that take you through beautiful fields willed with natural paths and native creatures, those are the bits that everyone likes. Now a day, the Camino also takes you through large cities, industrial zones, places that smell like shit, literally, yesterday, one bit was so bad that I thought I might throw up.
I walk the Camino differently than most. I am slow, I do between 18 and 20 kilometers a day. I get distracted when I fly crosses in front of me, an since I walk next to a lot of rivers this happens very often. Some days, like yesterday, the walk was very, very hard. I was tired, my body hurt and the only thing that go me through it was singing children´s songs at the top of my lungs to forget the pain in my body. Sadly, I was 3km away from anything; I´ve never considered hitchiking more seriously in my life.
I received an email a few days ago from a very good friend, among the things he told me, he said "let go and let God". That is what I am trying to do. Today I had to forcemyself to just let go and accept that I had a pace, that my pace was the perfect pace for me and that I should not worry about other people´s paces. Ever since I did that, everything seems to have fallen into place.
I have walked alone for a few days and finally seem to have gotten my wish, maybe more than I have bargained for. I see people form groups of friends and sort of adapt their Camino to stay together with the group, but I have the opposite need. I usually am very complacent with people and follow along with whatever others want to do, I came here to do exactly what I want when I want and so far, I am being pretty successful at it.
It´s hard to explain the position where I am right now. As I walked today I was approached my an older man (in his late 60s or 70s) that asked me if I was alone, having learned my lesson as I will explain in a second, I told him I stopped to go to the bathroom and my friends got ahead of me. He asked where my boyfriend was and when I said home (I am stil slow on the uptake) he said I would not be making love anytime soon. This is the second old man that approaches me to talk to me about sex! The first one was at a cafeteria where I had stopped to get something to eat.
A man in his 70s asked me to join him and having had thus far a great experience with town folk I did, after some pleasant talk, the conversation turned on a note I didn´t like when he said "you look like a veteran" having left my cat of nine tails and thigh-high leather boots at home I had no idea what he was talking about. HE began to talk about sex, and this man was absolutely disgusting. His nails were black underneeth, he must have been 120 years old, he was 4´10, fat and look like he hadn´t showered in days, not to mention he drooled when he ate. He began to describe what he liked to do to women which I will spare you in case you happen to be eating while reading this entry.
Now, assesing the knee to bollocks situation is always an option, but you have to be smart about it. I was a pilgrim walking alone, they know what path you travel on and I didn´t want to put myself in a compromising situation, so I nodded to everything he said, took his number when he offered it and got the hell out as soon as I could. Needless to say I have made a vow of chastity for the next 6 years after the though of what that man said.
After today´s incident, only about 50 maters after I was approached by an older couple who smiled nicely and told me what a wonderful things I was doing, I told them what had just occured and they were outraged. They bought me a "cortado" and we chatted, it put me in the best of moods! They told me about their life story and it was sucha beautiful one that I never wanted to leave. They had been together for 47 years and they hed a child, they had a house in Asturias and one day hopes to do the Camino. EVentually, as the sun was getting stronger, I had to leave, and they walked me toward the Camino, but not before giving me a jar of honey from their very own bee farm!
The lady said it might be too heavy, and it was a big jar, but to me, it looked like she was giving me a large jar of sticky, sweet love. I took the jar of love and felt the added weight in my pack, but happily walked on feeling happy with my latest encounter and having completely forgotten the one before.
Today´s walk was pretty nice and slow paced, it was a short one, only 18k. As I walked into Leon, I saw that my favorite band Estopa is playing here tonght! I thought, "today must really be my lucky day!". You see, I have never ever seen Estopa as they don´t tour the US and they are never where I am in the world. I always miss them by a couple of days, but somehow, they are here, in Leon for one night, and it happened to bethe night before my rest day (I would have gone to see them anyway!).
I don´t know if the events of today have anything to do with my decision to just be accepting this morning, but whereas I got out of bed this morning filled with doubt and fear, I will go to bed tonight with a jar of love and an earfull of great music!
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Searching for forgiveness (a letter to God)
Dear God,
On the Camino they say that pilgrims find enlightenment and that through that we come closer to you. That we find you and that we realize things about ourselves and our lives that were lacking. I have been doing a lot of thinking all these 453 km that I have walked as of today and I have come up with a few things that I need to apologize for, a few things I need to make amends for and a few things that I would like to promise.
I am sorry for every time that I have not taken a set-temperature when I have had the chance. When I get home, I´m going to take hot showers that remain that way all throughout. My pennance is to perform the shower dance on a bi-daily basis where I get in the shower thinking the water is hot only to find that in 10 seconds after I´m in it turns alpine cold, 10 seconds after that it goes hell hot. I must at all times jump in and out of the water trying only to be under the stream during the two seconds in between temperatures where it is lukewarm.
My cuticles know not what I do. It was not their decision to come on the Camino. Please don´t punish them. The poor things they are dried and damaged to the point of tearing and bleeding when I reach into pockets to look for things on the go as I do most of the day. My right thumb is the worst as it is the one that goes into my pocket the most. When I get back, I promise to never scoff at weekly manicures and pedicures, and God, thank you for giving me good, non-smelling feet, I´m not sure I could have delt with both underarm and foot funk all on the same body.
When I get home I promise to put a shrine up to the Degree gods. They have truly saved my life and stopped me from smelling like a rat that rolled around in someone´s morning mouth and died (because I could very easily).
In the future, I will perform weekly rain dances to keep the snails happy. The snail has now become my inner spirit creature as there is no other choice but to admire a creature that carries all of its house on its back. I will prosthelitize the word of the snail and let those who are shopaholics head the warning that they might one day be reincarnated into a snail and have a heavy karma to bear.
I would like to apologize for ever thinking that asphalt was ugly or unappealing. In your wisdom you have had me walk for three weeks on other terrain in order to compare and see the superiority of asphalt. The loose stones that shifted under my shoes and made my feet rub against my socks will never be forgotten. The day-after-the rain mud that sticks your foot to the ground like chewing gum and then remains on your boots, weighing down your legs at the layers dry and stick toone another will always be stuck in my brain. The uphill ascents and the downhill descents will always be the peaks and valleys of the ideas that I ponder. Asphalt #1.
Everyone that comes to my house will have to bow down to the central air and heating systems that we have installed as I will make reverence to those of the houses I visit.
I promise to no longer take my car to drive from one side of the mini mall to the other in solidarity with those who are less fortunate than I and are walking the Camino at that moment.
If you help me through this I promise I will make a monthly Pilgrimage to La Carreta and have me a Palomilla with all the trimmings and I will even have a cafecito to end the meal.
I will always try to carry with me the wonderful Camino custom of always greeting random people on the street, even if you have passed each other 25 times in that day. I will salute the people in Miami with Buen Camino! even at the risk of being thrown into a mental institution and being thought crazy.
That´s all for now.
Veronica
On the Camino they say that pilgrims find enlightenment and that through that we come closer to you. That we find you and that we realize things about ourselves and our lives that were lacking. I have been doing a lot of thinking all these 453 km that I have walked as of today and I have come up with a few things that I need to apologize for, a few things I need to make amends for and a few things that I would like to promise.
I am sorry for every time that I have not taken a set-temperature when I have had the chance. When I get home, I´m going to take hot showers that remain that way all throughout. My pennance is to perform the shower dance on a bi-daily basis where I get in the shower thinking the water is hot only to find that in 10 seconds after I´m in it turns alpine cold, 10 seconds after that it goes hell hot. I must at all times jump in and out of the water trying only to be under the stream during the two seconds in between temperatures where it is lukewarm.
My cuticles know not what I do. It was not their decision to come on the Camino. Please don´t punish them. The poor things they are dried and damaged to the point of tearing and bleeding when I reach into pockets to look for things on the go as I do most of the day. My right thumb is the worst as it is the one that goes into my pocket the most. When I get back, I promise to never scoff at weekly manicures and pedicures, and God, thank you for giving me good, non-smelling feet, I´m not sure I could have delt with both underarm and foot funk all on the same body.
When I get home I promise to put a shrine up to the Degree gods. They have truly saved my life and stopped me from smelling like a rat that rolled around in someone´s morning mouth and died (because I could very easily).
In the future, I will perform weekly rain dances to keep the snails happy. The snail has now become my inner spirit creature as there is no other choice but to admire a creature that carries all of its house on its back. I will prosthelitize the word of the snail and let those who are shopaholics head the warning that they might one day be reincarnated into a snail and have a heavy karma to bear.
I would like to apologize for ever thinking that asphalt was ugly or unappealing. In your wisdom you have had me walk for three weeks on other terrain in order to compare and see the superiority of asphalt. The loose stones that shifted under my shoes and made my feet rub against my socks will never be forgotten. The day-after-the rain mud that sticks your foot to the ground like chewing gum and then remains on your boots, weighing down your legs at the layers dry and stick toone another will always be stuck in my brain. The uphill ascents and the downhill descents will always be the peaks and valleys of the ideas that I ponder. Asphalt #1.
Everyone that comes to my house will have to bow down to the central air and heating systems that we have installed as I will make reverence to those of the houses I visit.
I promise to no longer take my car to drive from one side of the mini mall to the other in solidarity with those who are less fortunate than I and are walking the Camino at that moment.
If you help me through this I promise I will make a monthly Pilgrimage to La Carreta and have me a Palomilla with all the trimmings and I will even have a cafecito to end the meal.
I will always try to carry with me the wonderful Camino custom of always greeting random people on the street, even if you have passed each other 25 times in that day. I will salute the people in Miami with Buen Camino! even at the risk of being thrown into a mental institution and being thought crazy.
That´s all for now.
Veronica
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Searching for patience, and I want it now!
I keep saying that the Camino is to life like a model is to an architect: the smaller version can be picked up examined, flipped over, changed and gives the viewer perspective of the big picture.
Well the longer I am on this Camino, the more perspective I lose, the mose liquid my thoughts become and the more I fear I am losing myself. I try to make decisions and I cannot. I find that five minutes feel like a lifetime and that people I just met feel like fmaily and sometimes friends.
Tonight I had dinner with 5 german-speaking people, only one of which speaks english very well and I couldn´t have felt more welcomed to their table (not to mention the food was delicious).
I used to think that I could think myself through anything. My thinking was: God made me intelligent so that I could lead with my brain and solve problems as they came my way. The problem is, he also gave me a heart, and it seems they are always at odds with one another. Why would God create me in a such a way where parts of me could never see eye to eye and I am always finding myself in conflict?
After the city of Burgos, many pilgrims take a bus to Leon, the next big city to try and avoid the Meseta of Palencia. The Meseta is wide, monotonous and very, very long. There is a path along it that is 18k long and there is nothing on the path. When I say nothing I mean no towns, water or even shade. This is known as the most trying stretch for a pilgrim. There was a Bulgarian lady that arrived at the albergue last night and in that 18k had decided to get a divorce. I thought the 18k wasn´t bad at all, but I have delayed reactions to things.
My grandmother was shot dead when I was 11. It didn´t hit me until almost a year later, when everyone else was at that point, functional again. If I were to classify myself as one of the five senses, I would probably be smell. The nose has an automatic self defense mechanism, when something smells really bad or strong, it shuts down and doesn´t smell anymore. When something impacts me, my brain shuts down, I don´t realize what is happening until time passes and I have had time to process things, this is what had been building since Burgos.
The Meseta Castellana is boring. Well, in comparison to the grandeur of the pyrinees and the beauty of Navarra, it´s nothing special, lots of wide open spaces and blue skies which make you marvel at the beginning, but quickly become as picture perfect and monotonous as you Windows screen saver (which I am now walking through on a regular basis). In addition to being boring, it has become commercial. With the high unemploym,ent rate in the country, everyone has done something to cater to pilgrims. Long gone are the days where a pilgrim has to walk for 40k+ in a day just to get to the next shelter, or have to sleep under a tree (if there is one) surrounded by enormous bugs, iguanas and snakes. I have heard nothing but complaints about this from "old school" pilgrims who say that the Cmaino has lost its soul. That´s ok, I now refer to myself as Pilgrim Light same great smell, burning half the calories.
I would like to propose a counter argument to these pilgrims based on Maslow´s hierarchy of needs. The needs look like our food pyramid, with the most important needs that should be met are food, water, shelter, sexual needs, then safety, love and belonging, self-esteem and then self-actualization. When a pilgrim is in need of one of their most basic needs (food, water, shelter...) that is all they can concentrate on, as would happen to any human. This leaves little time for contemplation.
However, when the pilgrim is simply walking, not hungry, not thirsty, not worrying about shelter or safety, it allows him or her to think... just think. Sometimes the perils that pilgrims must face on the outside pale in comparison to those which they must face in their innermost selves. That, for me is the true pilgrimage, not the blisters, sunburn, dehydration, illness or exhaustion (and though I may not do 40km a day, I´ve have them all thank you!).
I have a very hard shell. It protects me from outside forces like pain, illness and all kinds of weather. But like the boots I had to send back to Madrid, a hard shell may protect you from outside forces, but can´t protect you from the destruction that is going on inside.
I finished the 18k at 3pm, my deamons started knowcking five hours later.
I am currently caught in a web between my head and my heart. It´s like I´m standing over a cliff on a cold breezy day and I can feel the moisture on my face and I´m looking to the other side, wondering if I should try to jump to where I want to go, stay where I am, fall into the nothing or build a bridge. The problem is, I´m a writer not a structural engineer, I don´t know how to build a bridge.
Luckily we are not talking about the Grand Canyon, we are talking about the inner me, deeper, a lot more dangerous, but in the end, territory I have some knowledge in. The Secret tells us that all we have to do is ask the Universe and it will provide. Well..
Dear Universe,
I WANT FUCKING ANSWERS!
Sincerely, Veronica
It´s not that simple. What I need to take is what I am not good at taking: time. I am not a creature of patience. But this is one more lesson Mr. Camino, one more of the many lessons you want me to learn on this journey I have decided to take. I have no idea what I have already learned as it´s all cakemix in my head, gooe and sticky all at the same time.
So it´s time for a verdict:
THE BAD NEWS: Truthfully I´m not sure I can handle everything in my head at the moment.
THE GOOD NEWS: I don´t have to handle everything right now. All I have to handle is my feet, my pack, the sun and the path, and barring a few blisters, I´ve almost got those down.
Well the longer I am on this Camino, the more perspective I lose, the mose liquid my thoughts become and the more I fear I am losing myself. I try to make decisions and I cannot. I find that five minutes feel like a lifetime and that people I just met feel like fmaily and sometimes friends.
Tonight I had dinner with 5 german-speaking people, only one of which speaks english very well and I couldn´t have felt more welcomed to their table (not to mention the food was delicious).
I used to think that I could think myself through anything. My thinking was: God made me intelligent so that I could lead with my brain and solve problems as they came my way. The problem is, he also gave me a heart, and it seems they are always at odds with one another. Why would God create me in a such a way where parts of me could never see eye to eye and I am always finding myself in conflict?
After the city of Burgos, many pilgrims take a bus to Leon, the next big city to try and avoid the Meseta of Palencia. The Meseta is wide, monotonous and very, very long. There is a path along it that is 18k long and there is nothing on the path. When I say nothing I mean no towns, water or even shade. This is known as the most trying stretch for a pilgrim. There was a Bulgarian lady that arrived at the albergue last night and in that 18k had decided to get a divorce. I thought the 18k wasn´t bad at all, but I have delayed reactions to things.
My grandmother was shot dead when I was 11. It didn´t hit me until almost a year later, when everyone else was at that point, functional again. If I were to classify myself as one of the five senses, I would probably be smell. The nose has an automatic self defense mechanism, when something smells really bad or strong, it shuts down and doesn´t smell anymore. When something impacts me, my brain shuts down, I don´t realize what is happening until time passes and I have had time to process things, this is what had been building since Burgos.
The Meseta Castellana is boring. Well, in comparison to the grandeur of the pyrinees and the beauty of Navarra, it´s nothing special, lots of wide open spaces and blue skies which make you marvel at the beginning, but quickly become as picture perfect and monotonous as you Windows screen saver (which I am now walking through on a regular basis). In addition to being boring, it has become commercial. With the high unemploym,ent rate in the country, everyone has done something to cater to pilgrims. Long gone are the days where a pilgrim has to walk for 40k+ in a day just to get to the next shelter, or have to sleep under a tree (if there is one) surrounded by enormous bugs, iguanas and snakes. I have heard nothing but complaints about this from "old school" pilgrims who say that the Cmaino has lost its soul. That´s ok, I now refer to myself as Pilgrim Light same great smell, burning half the calories.
I would like to propose a counter argument to these pilgrims based on Maslow´s hierarchy of needs. The needs look like our food pyramid, with the most important needs that should be met are food, water, shelter, sexual needs, then safety, love and belonging, self-esteem and then self-actualization. When a pilgrim is in need of one of their most basic needs (food, water, shelter...) that is all they can concentrate on, as would happen to any human. This leaves little time for contemplation.
However, when the pilgrim is simply walking, not hungry, not thirsty, not worrying about shelter or safety, it allows him or her to think... just think. Sometimes the perils that pilgrims must face on the outside pale in comparison to those which they must face in their innermost selves. That, for me is the true pilgrimage, not the blisters, sunburn, dehydration, illness or exhaustion (and though I may not do 40km a day, I´ve have them all thank you!).
I have a very hard shell. It protects me from outside forces like pain, illness and all kinds of weather. But like the boots I had to send back to Madrid, a hard shell may protect you from outside forces, but can´t protect you from the destruction that is going on inside.
I finished the 18k at 3pm, my deamons started knowcking five hours later.
I am currently caught in a web between my head and my heart. It´s like I´m standing over a cliff on a cold breezy day and I can feel the moisture on my face and I´m looking to the other side, wondering if I should try to jump to where I want to go, stay where I am, fall into the nothing or build a bridge. The problem is, I´m a writer not a structural engineer, I don´t know how to build a bridge.
Luckily we are not talking about the Grand Canyon, we are talking about the inner me, deeper, a lot more dangerous, but in the end, territory I have some knowledge in. The Secret tells us that all we have to do is ask the Universe and it will provide. Well..
Dear Universe,
I WANT FUCKING ANSWERS!
Sincerely, Veronica
It´s not that simple. What I need to take is what I am not good at taking: time. I am not a creature of patience. But this is one more lesson Mr. Camino, one more of the many lessons you want me to learn on this journey I have decided to take. I have no idea what I have already learned as it´s all cakemix in my head, gooe and sticky all at the same time.
So it´s time for a verdict:
THE BAD NEWS: Truthfully I´m not sure I can handle everything in my head at the moment.
THE GOOD NEWS: I don´t have to handle everything right now. All I have to handle is my feet, my pack, the sun and the path, and barring a few blisters, I´ve almost got those down.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Finding humility
The most common question that goes around on the Camino is "Why?". This inquiry is in reference to the reason why you in particular took this journey, this hard, trying and long journey. I was asked this question yesterday and realized that I don´t really know.
When I left San Juan de Ortega (the stop right before Burgos) I was feeling ill. It was the second day that I was feeling this way, and somehow, I knew that I was brewing an infection. I walked ahead from David who has to go slow due to his tendinitis. I was to get to Burgos earlier and head straight to the doctor. I did alright for the first 20km or so, at which point all my body ached and I stopped to take a drink of water and rest for a moment. Well, that did it, I could no longer walk, my pack, which lately had felt like a feather on my back, now felt like a boulder I had to carry on my frail pain-ridden body.
As I am stubborn as all hell, I tried to gather the strength and energy to finish the path to Burgos on foot. I wanted to be able to tell myself that I had completed the entire Camino on foot, like in the olden days. But I had to level with myself, I could in theory finish by foot, but then I was afraid I would push myself too far and make myself much worse. With pain in my heart and tears in my eyes I walked one more block to the bus stop that would take me into the center of Burgos. I paid the bus driver the fare and silently cried at my weakness, my failure and my lack of stealth.
I thought: I should be made of stronger stuff, my feet, my period, my weak immune system. I must be nothing more than a Cuban American Princess who should never have left home, like my grandmother has told me. I wanted to run off the bus and walk back to where I had taken it, but my body was too weak to even entertain this idea for too long.
Two pilgrims that I had met before got on the bus a couple of stops after me and we together made our way to the Albergue. I checked in and went straight to the doctor, where I was informed that I was suffering from a laryngitis infection. She gave me antibiotics and powerful drugs and ordered that I should rest at least a day. I went back to the albergue and showered, shivering even in this very warm and very modern albergue due to the immense fever that was slowly getting the best of me.
Despite the fact that my hair was so dirty it was stuck to my head, I didn´t wash it, I picked it up in a bun and applied cream to my very warm and red face. and decided there was nothing I could do about my feverish eyes. I got a bite to eat and had my meds. I lied down in bed, a single bed on the fifth floor that is usually reserved for disabled people as this albergue is compliant with all ADA regulations. Since there are no disabled people staying here now, the hospitaleiro allowed David and I to have the single beds, David did not arrive until 4 hours later.
As I was lying down, my fever spiked and my cheeks burned. I satyed in bed most of the evening, except for the moment when my german friends brought me something to eat downstairs.
I barely moved that night, not even the restricting shape of the mummy-like sleeping bad bothered me that night. Usually, I move around so much that the fact that I have to keep my feet tightly together makes me wake up. The next morning Luis the hospitalero allowed us to stay one more night due to my doctor´s note. I was too weak to do much, cold for most of the day but sad because I felt I wasn´t strong enough to do what so many people, older people, were doing so easily.
I am still here two nights later, having taken another day´s rest in order to completely get better before I venture into cold April showers again.
Where I thought I was weak, I am coming to terms with my humanity and realizing that sometimes you need to take a step back in order to appreciate the things that are meant to happen. Yesterday I was asked again why it was that I did the Camino. We were having lunch and I was really missing Cuban warmth. What we call "que te pasen la mano". All I wanted was to lay my head on my mothers legs and have her stroke my hair, in an act that mean that everything was going to be OK and that I was not alone. And then I realized why I was there at that moment.
I have always been a very protected girl. At least I have always known that no matter what happens, I have a safety net underneath me in case I fall. I think that one of the reasons I might have come is to see if I can make it alone. Even thought people have told me that I will never be alone, and I rarely have been on this journey, I didn´t want to even speak to people while I was here, but that was unrealistic.
I was surrounded by people yesterday and nonetheless, by not having anyone to give me a hug, I felt alone. I was not protected, I was not with my people.
The moment passed and after I took a nap I began to feel better. I was again in better spirits and talked to everyone. In the evening, I began to chat with a guy named Daniel. The conversation became very deep, about the meaning of life and our approach to it. Sometime between that conversation and this morning I was humbled, i began to let go and I started to accept that perhaps stopping was something I had to do.
Daniel told me that at one point he simply began to trust that everything would be OK, and that he had faith that it did. He said that at times in his life he has wished to know where he would be in the future, just to know that there was a direction in which he was to travel, but then he said that if he knew what direction he was to take that he would probably run the other way. I recalled a wish that have had many times, I would have loved to flash forward and know that I am going to be OK, that my people are going to be OK, I don´t want to know what difficulties I will have along the way, just that the outcome will be good.
I then realized, that like David, I would probably want to run in a different path, that is just my nature.
David told me that he thought he had enough money to finish and get home, that he wasn´t sure, but that he trusted that he would be fine. He talked about a heart at peace vs a heart at war, and I wondered what the hell I was fighting so hard for.
Sometimes I´m so used to just fighting, for everything, to kick a bad habit, to make a good one, to try harder, to arrive at a chosen destination.
After another long, philosophical breakfast with someone named Nicholas this morning, I went out by myself to walk around the city. Something bizarre happened to me: my mind was quiet. I wasn´t worried about making it to Santiago, about my family, about my boyfriend, about my career, I wasn´t worried about anything. I simply walked around the city and went at the pace of my choosing, walked down to the edge of the river when it called, touched the water to see if it was cold, watched the ducks swim with and against the current, I simply was and I simply am.
I trust I will make it to Santiago, but I don´t know when. I trust that my life will go in the direction it needs to, though I don´t know which. I trust that tomorrow morning, I will wake up and the earth will still exist, but I don´t know that It will. I trust that I will have children one day, but I don´t know how many.
Daniel said that events in nature happen exactly when they are meant to happen, and not a moment sooner, because nature is perfect. The water that flows down a river parts only after it hits a rock, and not before. The water does not see the rock and split itself up in preparation.
I meant to be so prepared for this trip. But no matter how many lists I have made, how many special equipment I bought or how many times I went over the maps, this journey hasn´t been a thing like I had expected. I didn´t expect 16 blisters, I didn´t expect the pain, I didn´t expect the people and I didn´t expect the tears. I have cried so much on this trip I feel more like fountain than a pilgrim.
I have cried at the sight of beauty, at the presence of God, missing my family, missing my boyfriend, at the loss of expectation and at the thought of the unknown ahead, at fear and even about a dead snake I almost stepped on.
There is a song called "You Humble Me Lord". I am not a person who is prone to outwardly admitting that I have been humbled, but I feel smaller and more human every day. I have always wanted to conquer the world in my own way, prove my strength and stand out. I know now that I must first tackle me before I can move on to anything else, and I have a feeling that´s going to be a lifelong project.
But luckily, even in the moments that I try to be alone in order to stand up on my own, life comes back and shows me that it´s much easier to get up in the morning when you have someone to "pasarte la mano" and now I wonder why I would ever want it any other way.
A little bit smaller, but bursting with love, I remain humbly yours,
Veronica
When I left San Juan de Ortega (the stop right before Burgos) I was feeling ill. It was the second day that I was feeling this way, and somehow, I knew that I was brewing an infection. I walked ahead from David who has to go slow due to his tendinitis. I was to get to Burgos earlier and head straight to the doctor. I did alright for the first 20km or so, at which point all my body ached and I stopped to take a drink of water and rest for a moment. Well, that did it, I could no longer walk, my pack, which lately had felt like a feather on my back, now felt like a boulder I had to carry on my frail pain-ridden body.
As I am stubborn as all hell, I tried to gather the strength and energy to finish the path to Burgos on foot. I wanted to be able to tell myself that I had completed the entire Camino on foot, like in the olden days. But I had to level with myself, I could in theory finish by foot, but then I was afraid I would push myself too far and make myself much worse. With pain in my heart and tears in my eyes I walked one more block to the bus stop that would take me into the center of Burgos. I paid the bus driver the fare and silently cried at my weakness, my failure and my lack of stealth.
I thought: I should be made of stronger stuff, my feet, my period, my weak immune system. I must be nothing more than a Cuban American Princess who should never have left home, like my grandmother has told me. I wanted to run off the bus and walk back to where I had taken it, but my body was too weak to even entertain this idea for too long.
Two pilgrims that I had met before got on the bus a couple of stops after me and we together made our way to the Albergue. I checked in and went straight to the doctor, where I was informed that I was suffering from a laryngitis infection. She gave me antibiotics and powerful drugs and ordered that I should rest at least a day. I went back to the albergue and showered, shivering even in this very warm and very modern albergue due to the immense fever that was slowly getting the best of me.
Despite the fact that my hair was so dirty it was stuck to my head, I didn´t wash it, I picked it up in a bun and applied cream to my very warm and red face. and decided there was nothing I could do about my feverish eyes. I got a bite to eat and had my meds. I lied down in bed, a single bed on the fifth floor that is usually reserved for disabled people as this albergue is compliant with all ADA regulations. Since there are no disabled people staying here now, the hospitaleiro allowed David and I to have the single beds, David did not arrive until 4 hours later.
As I was lying down, my fever spiked and my cheeks burned. I satyed in bed most of the evening, except for the moment when my german friends brought me something to eat downstairs.
I barely moved that night, not even the restricting shape of the mummy-like sleeping bad bothered me that night. Usually, I move around so much that the fact that I have to keep my feet tightly together makes me wake up. The next morning Luis the hospitalero allowed us to stay one more night due to my doctor´s note. I was too weak to do much, cold for most of the day but sad because I felt I wasn´t strong enough to do what so many people, older people, were doing so easily.
I am still here two nights later, having taken another day´s rest in order to completely get better before I venture into cold April showers again.
Where I thought I was weak, I am coming to terms with my humanity and realizing that sometimes you need to take a step back in order to appreciate the things that are meant to happen. Yesterday I was asked again why it was that I did the Camino. We were having lunch and I was really missing Cuban warmth. What we call "que te pasen la mano". All I wanted was to lay my head on my mothers legs and have her stroke my hair, in an act that mean that everything was going to be OK and that I was not alone. And then I realized why I was there at that moment.
I have always been a very protected girl. At least I have always known that no matter what happens, I have a safety net underneath me in case I fall. I think that one of the reasons I might have come is to see if I can make it alone. Even thought people have told me that I will never be alone, and I rarely have been on this journey, I didn´t want to even speak to people while I was here, but that was unrealistic.
I was surrounded by people yesterday and nonetheless, by not having anyone to give me a hug, I felt alone. I was not protected, I was not with my people.
The moment passed and after I took a nap I began to feel better. I was again in better spirits and talked to everyone. In the evening, I began to chat with a guy named Daniel. The conversation became very deep, about the meaning of life and our approach to it. Sometime between that conversation and this morning I was humbled, i began to let go and I started to accept that perhaps stopping was something I had to do.
Daniel told me that at one point he simply began to trust that everything would be OK, and that he had faith that it did. He said that at times in his life he has wished to know where he would be in the future, just to know that there was a direction in which he was to travel, but then he said that if he knew what direction he was to take that he would probably run the other way. I recalled a wish that have had many times, I would have loved to flash forward and know that I am going to be OK, that my people are going to be OK, I don´t want to know what difficulties I will have along the way, just that the outcome will be good.
I then realized, that like David, I would probably want to run in a different path, that is just my nature.
David told me that he thought he had enough money to finish and get home, that he wasn´t sure, but that he trusted that he would be fine. He talked about a heart at peace vs a heart at war, and I wondered what the hell I was fighting so hard for.
Sometimes I´m so used to just fighting, for everything, to kick a bad habit, to make a good one, to try harder, to arrive at a chosen destination.
After another long, philosophical breakfast with someone named Nicholas this morning, I went out by myself to walk around the city. Something bizarre happened to me: my mind was quiet. I wasn´t worried about making it to Santiago, about my family, about my boyfriend, about my career, I wasn´t worried about anything. I simply walked around the city and went at the pace of my choosing, walked down to the edge of the river when it called, touched the water to see if it was cold, watched the ducks swim with and against the current, I simply was and I simply am.
I trust I will make it to Santiago, but I don´t know when. I trust that my life will go in the direction it needs to, though I don´t know which. I trust that tomorrow morning, I will wake up and the earth will still exist, but I don´t know that It will. I trust that I will have children one day, but I don´t know how many.
Daniel said that events in nature happen exactly when they are meant to happen, and not a moment sooner, because nature is perfect. The water that flows down a river parts only after it hits a rock, and not before. The water does not see the rock and split itself up in preparation.
I meant to be so prepared for this trip. But no matter how many lists I have made, how many special equipment I bought or how many times I went over the maps, this journey hasn´t been a thing like I had expected. I didn´t expect 16 blisters, I didn´t expect the pain, I didn´t expect the people and I didn´t expect the tears. I have cried so much on this trip I feel more like fountain than a pilgrim.
I have cried at the sight of beauty, at the presence of God, missing my family, missing my boyfriend, at the loss of expectation and at the thought of the unknown ahead, at fear and even about a dead snake I almost stepped on.
There is a song called "You Humble Me Lord". I am not a person who is prone to outwardly admitting that I have been humbled, but I feel smaller and more human every day. I have always wanted to conquer the world in my own way, prove my strength and stand out. I know now that I must first tackle me before I can move on to anything else, and I have a feeling that´s going to be a lifelong project.
But luckily, even in the moments that I try to be alone in order to stand up on my own, life comes back and shows me that it´s much easier to get up in the morning when you have someone to "pasarte la mano" and now I wonder why I would ever want it any other way.
A little bit smaller, but bursting with love, I remain humbly yours,
Veronica
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Searching for the right DNA
I´m in Burgos. To be more precise I´m taking a rest in Burgos as I have a faringitis infection due to the ridiculous changes in temperature we have been having.
As I am on a journey with religious undertones I have been giving a lot of thought to the subject of God. But about two days ago I realized that God or the delegates of the weather must be women. They couldn´t make up their damn minds about the weather! Within a period of 90 minutes we had blistering sun, pouring rain, hail, torrential winds, sun again, more rain, wind... It was awful! I was trying to b so careful as well, I´m sure that and the albergue we stayed in a couple of days ago are what seriously did me in!
I left you last in Najera. I met loads of people there while feeling miserable. I got my period that day and was simply a complete disaster. I burst into tears mid meal and whined about missing my mother and boyfriend and I think poor David didn´t know what to do with himself.
More than recounting a series of events, let me talk to you a little about all the things that you don´t read about on the internet or in the giude books.
1. EVERY PLACE YOU WALK THROUGH IS HISTORICAL: No matter where you go, whether it´s a cross in the middle of the road or a person of interest, everything that you encounter matters. Now, depending upon how you are doing physically will equal the amount of care that goes into it. Most of the time, if you are so tired that you can´t go on but still have 3km to your next albergue and you have blisters and you have tendonitis you don´t give a crap what you are walking by on the road. And forget the times where there is a sign that is indicating a 5k diversion just so you can see a church that no one has been to in 200 years! Trust me only the repeat Camino takers go there (I will get to those later).
2. THE SMALLER THE TOWN THE BIGGER THE CHURCH: You know the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris? It´s got nothing on the one in Los Arcos, Navarra, population: 1277 (real number). There is seating there for everyone in town, all the pilgrims and everyone they´ve ever met! And that´s assuming all the people on question are catholic. Well even if they´re not they are forced to go as curch goers are in need of the body warmth.
3. JUST BECAUSE THERE ARE SHOWERS, DOES NOT MEAN PEOPLE WILL USE THEM. Most pilgrims ask a very simple and obvious question when they first enter an albergue: "¿Hay agua caliente?" more often than not, the answer is yes. We had been forewarned about the albergue in San Juan de Ortega. It is an old monastery that had been converted into a hostel for pilgrims. They have the tradition of serving sopa castellana (garlic soup) to the pilgrims every night t 6:30pm. It would serve them better to allow the pilgrims to bathe in the soup as it would be warmer and smell better than the showers. The water was freezing, but it was a walk in the park compared to the 50- it seemed to be in the bedroom. I put on three blankets plus my sleeping bag and was still trmbling form the cold! I was at this point already getting sick and this just made it much, much worse. I was instructed to go to the bar and have a cognac. I did, and seeing that I am a lightweight, by the time I was finished I was almost dancing. A little while later, an older gentleman said that I needed to have another before bed so that I could sweat out whatever I had. WOW. I am a light weight and two glasses of Cognac almost put me in a coma! I was seeing like 100 pilgrims in the bar when there were only 50. The albergue was so cold and drafty that I didn´t sweat and coupldn´t smell a thing (that´s the plus side).
But forget it! The night before, we had spent the night in Belorado in a very small albergue. It had rained that day. Have you ever smelled wet dog? You know how gross that is? Well imagine wet pilgrim! Everyone´s feet had had a chance to macerate in their wet boots and get all gungy and the albergue was about the size of my bedroom at home so the aroma was concentrated. My friend David actually asked me if getting wet on the road counted as his shower for the day!
4. NO MATTER HOW MANY BLISTER CURES YOU TRY AND REGARDLESS OF THE ORDER, ONLY THE 7TH WILL WORK. I am now the utmost expert on the subject of blisters, well and feet in general. About 45% of our conversations on a daily basis consist of feet, footwear, leg pain, tendonitis, athlete´s foot and a number of other darling subjects. First I was told that blisters should be punctured. Then I found out that they close on their own and fill up again if you keep walking.
Then they told me that I should use the Band-Aid Blister equivalent called Compeed. Compeeds work great! if you are not a pilgrim. They stick to your skin and provide comfor for your already-made blister. But, if you keep walking, all they do is melt and create this gooey muck that sticks to the kin on your blister and consequently makes your sock stick to your foot, so now you have to tear your sock off of your foot and usually rip some skin off along with it.
They also recommend that you run thread through the blister so that it won´t close. Well, depending upon the size and shape of the blister this might work or not.
There is also the option of cutting the skin, which I did which is strictly orbidden by all those of the Blister brigade as the skin underneath stands a bigger chance of getting infected (my pinkies dried just fine thank you!)
There are two gangs in the blister curing world: the Betadine Bandits and the Mercurochrome Mafia. One is completely opposed to the methods of the other and they duke it out whenever they come in contact, though all they do is end up red in the face.
FINALLY, what worked for me is the most awful, terrible cure of all! The massage therapist at Los Arcos gave me a syringe and told me to drain the liquid from my blisters as they appeared and then inject BEtadine into the blister. IT HURTS LIKE A BITCH! There is no blowing, rubbing, kissing or shaking to be done as the fire is inside your skin and will only go away when the intense throbbing takes over. Not to mention that you feel like a complete crack addict as you are sitting on a bunk bed or in a bathroom injecting the spaces between and on your toes. But let me tell you... it works! By the net morning or if you have to do it twice, following evening, the blister is completely dry on the inside and out and it not longer hurts!!!!!!!!!!!!
5. YOU MUST PAY TO SEE CHURCHES NOW. Gone are the days of sanctuary at a church. You must pay to pray! Well not quite. If you are there to see the church then you must pay to walk into the church, as you would a museum. If you are there to pray, you are allowed to walk through a side door where you are incased behind bars or plexi glass, and there you may sit to pray and reflect, usually next to a leper or two. The historical relics and livestock are for paying non-believers damn it!
In Santo Domingo de la Calzada there is a legend:
QUOTE: "SANTO DOMINGO DE LA CALZADA
WHERE THE HEN SANG AFTER BEING ROASTED"
A German family-father, mother and son-on pilgrimage to St. James´ tomb stopped to spend the night at an inn in Santo Domingo. The innkeeper´s daughter fancied the son and propositioned him, but he rejected her advances. Furious at the refusal, she hid some silver vessels in the young man´s bag and notified the authorities of the theft the next morning after the family had left the inn. The boy was promptly arrested, hanged and, as was the custom in the Middle Ages, his body left hanging on the gibbet as warning to others who would commit similar crimes. His parents, meanwhile, continued their sorrowful journey to Santiago.
On their way home again, they once more arrived at Santo Domingo. Approaching the square where their son´s body still hung, they were startled to discover that he was still alive! Their son, calling out from gibbet, hailed them and told them that his life had been spared by Santiago (in some versions it is Santo Domingo who saves the boy), who had kept him alive by supporting his weight the entire time. The astonished parents ran to report the news to the city official, who was just sitting down to eat his lunch when they arrived. Scoffing at their story and unwilling to abandon the table, he replied that their son was as alive as the roasted chickens on his plate. No sooner had he said this than the chickens leapt up, sprouted feathers and flew away cackling! Needless to say, their son was quickly cut down from the gibbet and pardoned of the crime.
Part of the wooden gibbet on which the young man was hanged is preserved in the cathedral, displayed in the transept over Santo Domingo´s tomb. Even more astonishing to visitors unfamiliar with the legend, a live rooster and hen are kept in a pen in a wall in the west transept. Popular legend has it that the rooster and chickens you see in the cage, replaced each month by new birds, are descendants of the original, miraculous pair.
6. THE CAMINO IS MORE ADDICTING THAN CRACK. There are people on the Camino that have done it seven, eight and 10 times! They say that the Camino calls them and they use somethimes all their vacation time in a year simply to do the Camino. I met a 75-year old doctor who had done the Camino 10 times! He said his wife threatened to divorce him, but that Santiago called. And that no matter when he planned to go, that he would end up being called before then to go. He has also saved 3 lived on the Cmaino, one from heat exhaustion, another was a cyclist who had a terrible falla nd was bleeding out, and the last was a man who had a heart attack 10 feet in front of him. I´m sort of glad he´s no longer around me, means he doesn´t need to be so close!
7. YUO DON´T HAVE TO BE CRIME FREE TO BE A PILGRIM. We have spent the last week doing the Camino with a group of convicts who were doing a piece of the Cmaino as a rehabilitation exercise. The arrived in Burgos today and have gone back to the detention center in Palencia. Apparently, it was a very international group as they had a Colombian cook, a Mexican Santero, an Argentinian journalist and a Venezuelan boy toy in the bunch. At first, several people commented that they had read an article about a group of convicts that were doing a piece of el Camino. Then we crossed this group of tourists coming out of Logroño and thought nothing of it. Soon, rumors started to fly and later, David asked one point blank who told him that they were in fact that group. I have to tell you, I have never met a nicer bunch of guys. I asked one point blank if they were the group and he said they weren´t. I then asked him where he was living, he said Palencia (though he was from Venezuela), then I asked about 7 other guys from the group where they lived and they all said Palencia. Can´t keep a good journalist down eh?
8. SPAIN IS GENETICALLY ENGINEERING PILGRIMS. OK seriously! What is it with these men in their 60s who all fly by the 20 and 30-somethings throughout the day. And then when the younger kids get to the hostels we are all hurt and crap and they are pretty much planning a party? I am convinced that Spain genetically engineers these men to come out of pods already int heir 60s and they make them out to be pilgrims! You see, they look like they are wearing boots but in fact they are calluses that are made in the shape of hiking boots. Instead of hair they are actually magnetic compass arrows so they never get lost and their skin is not porous so that they don´t sweat and lose water. I mean seriously! These men look at you and say "you´re tired already? I´ve done 30kms today, and I plan to do 40 after lunch!" I mean seriously!
9. GOD IS THE MOST MAGNIFICENT ARTIST. YEsterday I had a fever, I was tired and all my muscles hurt. But I was surrounded by the most amazingly beautiful nature I could never have imagined existed. My uncle Mark once told me that going to see the Seqoias was the closest thing he had ever witnessed where he felt the presence of God. I now know what he feels like. How ballsy of artists that try to mimic this beauty, because it´s simply impossible., I keep trying to take picture after picture so that, when I arrive home I might be able to share with my friends and family some of what I have seen. I´m afraid I will do it all a disservice as it´s impossible to capture with any lense that is not attached to a retina. I guess even in that, man will always try to mimic God but fall short. Nothing, we could ever build will be so beautiful and perfect.
The beauty of the camino is a drug. I can´t be thankful enough for being surrounded by so much beauty. I thought yesterday that I couldn´t wait to do this again... and I haven´t even finished this time around! I have always said I am a city girl and I am, but nature is too beautiful to pass up forever.
Love,
V
As I am on a journey with religious undertones I have been giving a lot of thought to the subject of God. But about two days ago I realized that God or the delegates of the weather must be women. They couldn´t make up their damn minds about the weather! Within a period of 90 minutes we had blistering sun, pouring rain, hail, torrential winds, sun again, more rain, wind... It was awful! I was trying to b so careful as well, I´m sure that and the albergue we stayed in a couple of days ago are what seriously did me in!
I left you last in Najera. I met loads of people there while feeling miserable. I got my period that day and was simply a complete disaster. I burst into tears mid meal and whined about missing my mother and boyfriend and I think poor David didn´t know what to do with himself.
More than recounting a series of events, let me talk to you a little about all the things that you don´t read about on the internet or in the giude books.
1. EVERY PLACE YOU WALK THROUGH IS HISTORICAL: No matter where you go, whether it´s a cross in the middle of the road or a person of interest, everything that you encounter matters. Now, depending upon how you are doing physically will equal the amount of care that goes into it. Most of the time, if you are so tired that you can´t go on but still have 3km to your next albergue and you have blisters and you have tendonitis you don´t give a crap what you are walking by on the road. And forget the times where there is a sign that is indicating a 5k diversion just so you can see a church that no one has been to in 200 years! Trust me only the repeat Camino takers go there (I will get to those later).
2. THE SMALLER THE TOWN THE BIGGER THE CHURCH: You know the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris? It´s got nothing on the one in Los Arcos, Navarra, population: 1277 (real number). There is seating there for everyone in town, all the pilgrims and everyone they´ve ever met! And that´s assuming all the people on question are catholic. Well even if they´re not they are forced to go as curch goers are in need of the body warmth.
3. JUST BECAUSE THERE ARE SHOWERS, DOES NOT MEAN PEOPLE WILL USE THEM. Most pilgrims ask a very simple and obvious question when they first enter an albergue: "¿Hay agua caliente?" more often than not, the answer is yes. We had been forewarned about the albergue in San Juan de Ortega. It is an old monastery that had been converted into a hostel for pilgrims. They have the tradition of serving sopa castellana (garlic soup) to the pilgrims every night t 6:30pm. It would serve them better to allow the pilgrims to bathe in the soup as it would be warmer and smell better than the showers. The water was freezing, but it was a walk in the park compared to the 50- it seemed to be in the bedroom. I put on three blankets plus my sleeping bag and was still trmbling form the cold! I was at this point already getting sick and this just made it much, much worse. I was instructed to go to the bar and have a cognac. I did, and seeing that I am a lightweight, by the time I was finished I was almost dancing. A little while later, an older gentleman said that I needed to have another before bed so that I could sweat out whatever I had. WOW. I am a light weight and two glasses of Cognac almost put me in a coma! I was seeing like 100 pilgrims in the bar when there were only 50. The albergue was so cold and drafty that I didn´t sweat and coupldn´t smell a thing (that´s the plus side).
But forget it! The night before, we had spent the night in Belorado in a very small albergue. It had rained that day. Have you ever smelled wet dog? You know how gross that is? Well imagine wet pilgrim! Everyone´s feet had had a chance to macerate in their wet boots and get all gungy and the albergue was about the size of my bedroom at home so the aroma was concentrated. My friend David actually asked me if getting wet on the road counted as his shower for the day!
4. NO MATTER HOW MANY BLISTER CURES YOU TRY AND REGARDLESS OF THE ORDER, ONLY THE 7TH WILL WORK. I am now the utmost expert on the subject of blisters, well and feet in general. About 45% of our conversations on a daily basis consist of feet, footwear, leg pain, tendonitis, athlete´s foot and a number of other darling subjects. First I was told that blisters should be punctured. Then I found out that they close on their own and fill up again if you keep walking.
Then they told me that I should use the Band-Aid Blister equivalent called Compeed. Compeeds work great! if you are not a pilgrim. They stick to your skin and provide comfor for your already-made blister. But, if you keep walking, all they do is melt and create this gooey muck that sticks to the kin on your blister and consequently makes your sock stick to your foot, so now you have to tear your sock off of your foot and usually rip some skin off along with it.
They also recommend that you run thread through the blister so that it won´t close. Well, depending upon the size and shape of the blister this might work or not.
There is also the option of cutting the skin, which I did which is strictly orbidden by all those of the Blister brigade as the skin underneath stands a bigger chance of getting infected (my pinkies dried just fine thank you!)
There are two gangs in the blister curing world: the Betadine Bandits and the Mercurochrome Mafia. One is completely opposed to the methods of the other and they duke it out whenever they come in contact, though all they do is end up red in the face.
FINALLY, what worked for me is the most awful, terrible cure of all! The massage therapist at Los Arcos gave me a syringe and told me to drain the liquid from my blisters as they appeared and then inject BEtadine into the blister. IT HURTS LIKE A BITCH! There is no blowing, rubbing, kissing or shaking to be done as the fire is inside your skin and will only go away when the intense throbbing takes over. Not to mention that you feel like a complete crack addict as you are sitting on a bunk bed or in a bathroom injecting the spaces between and on your toes. But let me tell you... it works! By the net morning or if you have to do it twice, following evening, the blister is completely dry on the inside and out and it not longer hurts!!!!!!!!!!!!
5. YOU MUST PAY TO SEE CHURCHES NOW. Gone are the days of sanctuary at a church. You must pay to pray! Well not quite. If you are there to see the church then you must pay to walk into the church, as you would a museum. If you are there to pray, you are allowed to walk through a side door where you are incased behind bars or plexi glass, and there you may sit to pray and reflect, usually next to a leper or two. The historical relics and livestock are for paying non-believers damn it!
In Santo Domingo de la Calzada there is a legend:
QUOTE: "SANTO DOMINGO DE LA CALZADA
WHERE THE HEN SANG AFTER BEING ROASTED"
A German family-father, mother and son-on pilgrimage to St. James´ tomb stopped to spend the night at an inn in Santo Domingo. The innkeeper´s daughter fancied the son and propositioned him, but he rejected her advances. Furious at the refusal, she hid some silver vessels in the young man´s bag and notified the authorities of the theft the next morning after the family had left the inn. The boy was promptly arrested, hanged and, as was the custom in the Middle Ages, his body left hanging on the gibbet as warning to others who would commit similar crimes. His parents, meanwhile, continued their sorrowful journey to Santiago.
On their way home again, they once more arrived at Santo Domingo. Approaching the square where their son´s body still hung, they were startled to discover that he was still alive! Their son, calling out from gibbet, hailed them and told them that his life had been spared by Santiago (in some versions it is Santo Domingo who saves the boy), who had kept him alive by supporting his weight the entire time. The astonished parents ran to report the news to the city official, who was just sitting down to eat his lunch when they arrived. Scoffing at their story and unwilling to abandon the table, he replied that their son was as alive as the roasted chickens on his plate. No sooner had he said this than the chickens leapt up, sprouted feathers and flew away cackling! Needless to say, their son was quickly cut down from the gibbet and pardoned of the crime.
Part of the wooden gibbet on which the young man was hanged is preserved in the cathedral, displayed in the transept over Santo Domingo´s tomb. Even more astonishing to visitors unfamiliar with the legend, a live rooster and hen are kept in a pen in a wall in the west transept. Popular legend has it that the rooster and chickens you see in the cage, replaced each month by new birds, are descendants of the original, miraculous pair.
6. THE CAMINO IS MORE ADDICTING THAN CRACK. There are people on the Camino that have done it seven, eight and 10 times! They say that the Camino calls them and they use somethimes all their vacation time in a year simply to do the Camino. I met a 75-year old doctor who had done the Camino 10 times! He said his wife threatened to divorce him, but that Santiago called. And that no matter when he planned to go, that he would end up being called before then to go. He has also saved 3 lived on the Cmaino, one from heat exhaustion, another was a cyclist who had a terrible falla nd was bleeding out, and the last was a man who had a heart attack 10 feet in front of him. I´m sort of glad he´s no longer around me, means he doesn´t need to be so close!
7. YUO DON´T HAVE TO BE CRIME FREE TO BE A PILGRIM. We have spent the last week doing the Camino with a group of convicts who were doing a piece of the Cmaino as a rehabilitation exercise. The arrived in Burgos today and have gone back to the detention center in Palencia. Apparently, it was a very international group as they had a Colombian cook, a Mexican Santero, an Argentinian journalist and a Venezuelan boy toy in the bunch. At first, several people commented that they had read an article about a group of convicts that were doing a piece of el Camino. Then we crossed this group of tourists coming out of Logroño and thought nothing of it. Soon, rumors started to fly and later, David asked one point blank who told him that they were in fact that group. I have to tell you, I have never met a nicer bunch of guys. I asked one point blank if they were the group and he said they weren´t. I then asked him where he was living, he said Palencia (though he was from Venezuela), then I asked about 7 other guys from the group where they lived and they all said Palencia. Can´t keep a good journalist down eh?
8. SPAIN IS GENETICALLY ENGINEERING PILGRIMS. OK seriously! What is it with these men in their 60s who all fly by the 20 and 30-somethings throughout the day. And then when the younger kids get to the hostels we are all hurt and crap and they are pretty much planning a party? I am convinced that Spain genetically engineers these men to come out of pods already int heir 60s and they make them out to be pilgrims! You see, they look like they are wearing boots but in fact they are calluses that are made in the shape of hiking boots. Instead of hair they are actually magnetic compass arrows so they never get lost and their skin is not porous so that they don´t sweat and lose water. I mean seriously! These men look at you and say "you´re tired already? I´ve done 30kms today, and I plan to do 40 after lunch!" I mean seriously!
9. GOD IS THE MOST MAGNIFICENT ARTIST. YEsterday I had a fever, I was tired and all my muscles hurt. But I was surrounded by the most amazingly beautiful nature I could never have imagined existed. My uncle Mark once told me that going to see the Seqoias was the closest thing he had ever witnessed where he felt the presence of God. I now know what he feels like. How ballsy of artists that try to mimic this beauty, because it´s simply impossible., I keep trying to take picture after picture so that, when I arrive home I might be able to share with my friends and family some of what I have seen. I´m afraid I will do it all a disservice as it´s impossible to capture with any lense that is not attached to a retina. I guess even in that, man will always try to mimic God but fall short. Nothing, we could ever build will be so beautiful and perfect.
The beauty of the camino is a drug. I can´t be thankful enough for being surrounded by so much beauty. I thought yesterday that I couldn´t wait to do this again... and I haven´t even finished this time around! I have always said I am a city girl and I am, but nature is too beautiful to pass up forever.
Love,
V
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Searching for my memories
It´s been almost four days since my last blog entry, and I´ve been trying ever since to organize my thoughts. Love, is somehting that you never know when or where you will find it. By love I am not talking about Eros, romantic love, but love of the person that you cross on the street, of the people you are taking a journey with or even the person you have still to meet.
I am tired. The curse of womanhood is upon me and I´m afraid that between my exhaustion, that and the events since I have last wrote I am utterly exhausted. The prescription of the day will be two benadryl and bed in a bit, after I write and go and get some fruit and stuff for tomorrow.
In Estella, where I last wrote I was in a lot of pain and my blisters weren´t healing, the ones on my pinkies wrapped around my toe and I got pissed so I cut the skin off, good thing too because the lower layers were coming off from being wet for so long. The following day they were half way to dry (yay!).
The following day I said "screw this" and put on my sneakers, immidiately my feet felt much, much better. Although the arches of my feet hurt after a couple of days from the lack of support from my running shoes on the rocky path, my blisters and my impending tendinitis appreciated it.
Los Arcos is a town that for a Pilgrim is a little bit of a liar, after you officially arrive through the town you have to walk straight through it to get to the Albergure, by that time you are so tired that you just want to sit down and yuo don´t care where the hell you do it. I passed, fell behaind and caught up to several friends along the way that day, always wishing one another "Buen Camino!" no matter how many times yu had already wished each other so.
The Hosteliers at the Albergue were a bit strict and angry looking, but my good mood at having arrived early and in better shape than any other day was not to be thwarted. The time I spent walking alone that day (which was most of the way) was pretty good as I got lots of ideas and spent most of the journey singing, much to the delight of passers by, who gave me lots of compliments. I think I spent close to 30 minutes singing a Disney medley as I am a big fan and have a huge repertoire.
I landed in my room and a few minutes later was followed by my new German friend Daniela, who had the bunk above me. We went to lunch and hung out for a bit and had a quiet afternoon. There was a man who came from Logrono to tend to Pilgrim´s feet and give us massages. I happily paid him 15 Euros for a foot massage, he told me I wasn´t drinking enough water and about three other things that I had been suffering from that I figured he couldn´t possibly know. Only my touching my feet, he knew that I had had throat problems as a child, that I had sinus issues and that I hadn´t been to the bathroom in two days. I was floored! How did this man know this about me simply by touching my feet. He then said " you have a hyper sense of responsibility." and then I wanted to know if he had been reading my journal because it couldn´t be so!
He gave me a syringe and a new way of curing my blisters which consists of draining the liquid with a syringe and injecting Betadie in the blister for it to dry. This process is miraculous! It works! And it is PAINFUL AS ALL HELL! You know how when you apply something to cure a cut you can blow on it to relieve the sting? Well by injecting the BEtine in the blister there is no relief to be had! The sting and throbbing is endless, but worth every seocnd of pain as the next morning the blister is almost totally dry!
That night, all the pilgrims had dinner together as this group decided to make us dinner and we all contributed only 3 Euros. Goes to show where you can feed you you can feed two and so forth. The dinner was nice, but what was totally great was that some of the Spanish guys broke out into song after dinner and then we all contributed songs from our own countries. I sang the Guantanamera and Unforgetable. We danced, laughed and had a ball and got to know a lot more people I had seen many times before but hadn´t actually spoken with.
I´m sure you remember about the 75-year-old grandmother I told you about. I was speaking to her granddaughter Melissa Mclaughlin and I found another layer to the grandmother story that was even cooler. It turns out, Melissa just met her grandmother. Melissa was adopted. HEr parents had always said that of melissa wanted to meet her birth parents that that would be cool One day Melissa decided to do just that and found her mother. She said that her mom is a nice lady but that when she met her grandmother she felt and instant connection. They had spoken about three times when her grandmother called her up and told her she was doing an 800km walk (her third, her first had been to Rome) for her 75th birthday and would Melissa like to come so that they could get to know each other. And so they are. Isn´t that just the most inspiring story you have ever heard?
That night when I went to bed, I realized I had no sleeping bag! I had left my sleeping bag in Estella! The meanie hostelier lady gave me a hard time as she didn´t believe I had forgotten it, but then finally gave me a blanket.
The following day, most people walked to Logroño but about 10 of us walked to the town before where our friend Pedro (May - promounced MA-I) is from. He was inviting us all to his culinary society where his parents would make us all paella! A Culinary Society is like a kitchen + dining room that you can cook in and throw parties, they have a wine cellar and the ability to buy the wine in boxes so that it´s cheaper. You bring your food and cook but then there are people there to clean after you, it´s great for people who want to entertain and as in most of Europe live in a small apartment.
During the day, Mai was nice enough to take three of us (Daniela, Christian - both German - and I) to the mall so that I could buy new shoes and a sleeping bag and the guys a couple of things too. I also got a water bottle as the stupid Camel Pack is more of a pain in the ass than it´s worth, it spills, it warms, it bunches up in your pack, and if you don´t put it in right you get no water through your straw!
After all my purchases and going to the post office to send grandpa my boots and sneakers I did and enormous happy dance with Daniela in tow through half the mall (I had promised her after all).
The paella was delicious!!!!!! And we got to try two wines from another region. I tried to pair this one wine with dark chocolate and though it did change the taste, I´m not sure it was as effective as when Danny did it for me. Seeing as I´m sure I got it all wrong. I am not a sommelier after all.
The following day most of us were supposed to do a small stint to Logroño only 11km away but my friend David and I got abandoned and the Germans, the Belges and Mai took off almost 30 kms to Najera.
David and I arrived at Logroño at 11am. The hostel didn´t allow you to leave packs til 12 so we went into a coffee shop about two blocks away. The lady asked us of we wanted to toast with jam and I said that I would please. I asked her to put some ham on it. She looked at me in surpris and said it was a weird combination. I told her about the Elena Ruth sandwich but that I preferred goat cheese, raspberry preserves and turkey grille din a sandwhich. She was so jazzed wiht the idea that as of this morning there is a Veronica´s Sandwich in Logroño. David was tripping out for the rest of the day saying "Dude! You were only in town 10 minutes and they name a sandwich after you?!"
We dumped our sacks and walked around. Logroño is beautiful. I went last year for Pablo and Marta's wedding but as I had a sinus infection, saw very little of it! We went for pinchos, which seems to be David's famous passtime, and saw the sites. When we arrived back at the Albergue 5 hours later there was a huge group waiting for them to open the doors. It is customary for Albergues to open at 1pm for tired pilgrims but I guess in La Rioja they don´t opne til four, which pisses off a lot of exhausted pilgrims. The man in the hostel was awful to a girl and there was a big huff. They had taken our passports at the door and that wasn´t customary either! We didn´t like the scene so we left. The only other hostel was full from the overflow and bad juju so David and I suited up again and walked 12km to the next town.
It was awful. Thinking we hadn´t to walk anymore we had done the tourism thing, had a couple of glasses of wime (I mean it is La Rioja) and were exhausted. Those 12k felt like 21. We got to the next town almost at 10pm. The mosquitoes killed me as it was sunset and upon seeing us, the lady at the hostel told us where we could get warm soup.
We slept OK and saw some friend we knew. Today was kind of hard as our bodies were still recouping form yesterday so upon arrival at the hostel today we decided to take it easy no matter what sites there are to see.
We walked most of today without talking, side by side but as if we didn´t know each other. That´s how it works really. It´s someone you don´t know so there´s no preassure.
Today was a real treat for me in one way. I really appreciated and thought of my friend Danny. As I walked through the vineyards I got to see a bit of the raw material for all the things he´s always talking about. I got to see the nature around the wine that influences the wine´s taste. David is an environmentalist and knows alot about nature so he picked rosemary for us to chew on and lavendar for me to smell, I also saw basil, lemongrass and other things growing on the side of the path just around the vines. So when you taste apple or smell rosemary in a wine, be sure that less than 20 feet from the field there was a tree or a bush.
I cried today from exhaustion and because I missed my boyfriend. But tonight I will sleep well and tomorrow will be another cool day.
with all my love,
V
I am tired. The curse of womanhood is upon me and I´m afraid that between my exhaustion, that and the events since I have last wrote I am utterly exhausted. The prescription of the day will be two benadryl and bed in a bit, after I write and go and get some fruit and stuff for tomorrow.
In Estella, where I last wrote I was in a lot of pain and my blisters weren´t healing, the ones on my pinkies wrapped around my toe and I got pissed so I cut the skin off, good thing too because the lower layers were coming off from being wet for so long. The following day they were half way to dry (yay!).
The following day I said "screw this" and put on my sneakers, immidiately my feet felt much, much better. Although the arches of my feet hurt after a couple of days from the lack of support from my running shoes on the rocky path, my blisters and my impending tendinitis appreciated it.
Los Arcos is a town that for a Pilgrim is a little bit of a liar, after you officially arrive through the town you have to walk straight through it to get to the Albergure, by that time you are so tired that you just want to sit down and yuo don´t care where the hell you do it. I passed, fell behaind and caught up to several friends along the way that day, always wishing one another "Buen Camino!" no matter how many times yu had already wished each other so.
The Hosteliers at the Albergue were a bit strict and angry looking, but my good mood at having arrived early and in better shape than any other day was not to be thwarted. The time I spent walking alone that day (which was most of the way) was pretty good as I got lots of ideas and spent most of the journey singing, much to the delight of passers by, who gave me lots of compliments. I think I spent close to 30 minutes singing a Disney medley as I am a big fan and have a huge repertoire.
I landed in my room and a few minutes later was followed by my new German friend Daniela, who had the bunk above me. We went to lunch and hung out for a bit and had a quiet afternoon. There was a man who came from Logrono to tend to Pilgrim´s feet and give us massages. I happily paid him 15 Euros for a foot massage, he told me I wasn´t drinking enough water and about three other things that I had been suffering from that I figured he couldn´t possibly know. Only my touching my feet, he knew that I had had throat problems as a child, that I had sinus issues and that I hadn´t been to the bathroom in two days. I was floored! How did this man know this about me simply by touching my feet. He then said " you have a hyper sense of responsibility." and then I wanted to know if he had been reading my journal because it couldn´t be so!
He gave me a syringe and a new way of curing my blisters which consists of draining the liquid with a syringe and injecting Betadie in the blister for it to dry. This process is miraculous! It works! And it is PAINFUL AS ALL HELL! You know how when you apply something to cure a cut you can blow on it to relieve the sting? Well by injecting the BEtine in the blister there is no relief to be had! The sting and throbbing is endless, but worth every seocnd of pain as the next morning the blister is almost totally dry!
That night, all the pilgrims had dinner together as this group decided to make us dinner and we all contributed only 3 Euros. Goes to show where you can feed you you can feed two and so forth. The dinner was nice, but what was totally great was that some of the Spanish guys broke out into song after dinner and then we all contributed songs from our own countries. I sang the Guantanamera and Unforgetable. We danced, laughed and had a ball and got to know a lot more people I had seen many times before but hadn´t actually spoken with.
I´m sure you remember about the 75-year-old grandmother I told you about. I was speaking to her granddaughter Melissa Mclaughlin and I found another layer to the grandmother story that was even cooler. It turns out, Melissa just met her grandmother. Melissa was adopted. HEr parents had always said that of melissa wanted to meet her birth parents that that would be cool One day Melissa decided to do just that and found her mother. She said that her mom is a nice lady but that when she met her grandmother she felt and instant connection. They had spoken about three times when her grandmother called her up and told her she was doing an 800km walk (her third, her first had been to Rome) for her 75th birthday and would Melissa like to come so that they could get to know each other. And so they are. Isn´t that just the most inspiring story you have ever heard?
That night when I went to bed, I realized I had no sleeping bag! I had left my sleeping bag in Estella! The meanie hostelier lady gave me a hard time as she didn´t believe I had forgotten it, but then finally gave me a blanket.
The following day, most people walked to Logroño but about 10 of us walked to the town before where our friend Pedro (May - promounced MA-I) is from. He was inviting us all to his culinary society where his parents would make us all paella! A Culinary Society is like a kitchen + dining room that you can cook in and throw parties, they have a wine cellar and the ability to buy the wine in boxes so that it´s cheaper. You bring your food and cook but then there are people there to clean after you, it´s great for people who want to entertain and as in most of Europe live in a small apartment.
During the day, Mai was nice enough to take three of us (Daniela, Christian - both German - and I) to the mall so that I could buy new shoes and a sleeping bag and the guys a couple of things too. I also got a water bottle as the stupid Camel Pack is more of a pain in the ass than it´s worth, it spills, it warms, it bunches up in your pack, and if you don´t put it in right you get no water through your straw!
After all my purchases and going to the post office to send grandpa my boots and sneakers I did and enormous happy dance with Daniela in tow through half the mall (I had promised her after all).
The paella was delicious!!!!!! And we got to try two wines from another region. I tried to pair this one wine with dark chocolate and though it did change the taste, I´m not sure it was as effective as when Danny did it for me. Seeing as I´m sure I got it all wrong. I am not a sommelier after all.
The following day most of us were supposed to do a small stint to Logroño only 11km away but my friend David and I got abandoned and the Germans, the Belges and Mai took off almost 30 kms to Najera.
David and I arrived at Logroño at 11am. The hostel didn´t allow you to leave packs til 12 so we went into a coffee shop about two blocks away. The lady asked us of we wanted to toast with jam and I said that I would please. I asked her to put some ham on it. She looked at me in surpris and said it was a weird combination. I told her about the Elena Ruth sandwich but that I preferred goat cheese, raspberry preserves and turkey grille din a sandwhich. She was so jazzed wiht the idea that as of this morning there is a Veronica´s Sandwich in Logroño. David was tripping out for the rest of the day saying "Dude! You were only in town 10 minutes and they name a sandwich after you?!"
We dumped our sacks and walked around. Logroño is beautiful. I went last year for Pablo and Marta's wedding but as I had a sinus infection, saw very little of it! We went for pinchos, which seems to be David's famous passtime, and saw the sites. When we arrived back at the Albergue 5 hours later there was a huge group waiting for them to open the doors. It is customary for Albergues to open at 1pm for tired pilgrims but I guess in La Rioja they don´t opne til four, which pisses off a lot of exhausted pilgrims. The man in the hostel was awful to a girl and there was a big huff. They had taken our passports at the door and that wasn´t customary either! We didn´t like the scene so we left. The only other hostel was full from the overflow and bad juju so David and I suited up again and walked 12km to the next town.
It was awful. Thinking we hadn´t to walk anymore we had done the tourism thing, had a couple of glasses of wime (I mean it is La Rioja) and were exhausted. Those 12k felt like 21. We got to the next town almost at 10pm. The mosquitoes killed me as it was sunset and upon seeing us, the lady at the hostel told us where we could get warm soup.
We slept OK and saw some friend we knew. Today was kind of hard as our bodies were still recouping form yesterday so upon arrival at the hostel today we decided to take it easy no matter what sites there are to see.
We walked most of today without talking, side by side but as if we didn´t know each other. That´s how it works really. It´s someone you don´t know so there´s no preassure.
Today was a real treat for me in one way. I really appreciated and thought of my friend Danny. As I walked through the vineyards I got to see a bit of the raw material for all the things he´s always talking about. I got to see the nature around the wine that influences the wine´s taste. David is an environmentalist and knows alot about nature so he picked rosemary for us to chew on and lavendar for me to smell, I also saw basil, lemongrass and other things growing on the side of the path just around the vines. So when you taste apple or smell rosemary in a wine, be sure that less than 20 feet from the field there was a tree or a bush.
I cried today from exhaustion and because I missed my boyfriend. But tonight I will sleep well and tomorrow will be another cool day.
with all my love,
V
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Searching for Sherwin Williams
Desperation: When you are willing to risk your life in shark-infested waters in search of freedom. When you steal a piece of bread to stop your children from crying. When you fantacize about going home and throwing away all your worldly posessions because you feel the load on your back will be lighter because of it.
I´m a city girl. It´s becoming more apparent the more I am on this walk. The sun on my skin, the blisters on my feet, the fact that asphault feels like a relief to me when everyone else says that it´s harder to walk on. I wasn´t cut out for this thing, but still, it´s a priviledge to do it and I intend on taking every opportunity I can in order to enjoy it.
At about 10am this morning I was over it. I was done, all that I wanted to do was to take a hot bath, walk into Massage Envy, throw down my credit card and have them massage me til my skin fell off. Today was hard. Not quite as painful as day two had been, but it was certainly the second-hardest day. I almost chucked my boots into a rivine.
The only thing that I bought in person and not therough the internet were my boots. I walked into REI and told the man what I was doing, what the terrain consisted of and what it was all about. He sais he was familiar. He recommended the boots I bought over the nicer-feeling, softer ones, because he said that they would protect my feet from outside peril. What he didn´t say was that they would destroy my feet on the inside in the process.
I am now up to 12 blisters (and that´s not counting the new ones forming under the ones I already have). Somewhere aroung 2pm the pain starts. By 3pm the pain is so bad that the width of my steps decreases by half and I have to take twice as many to get to where I´m going.
But all the people around me are incredibly nice. Everyone is concerned for my feet and gasp whenever they see their state. I figure that before they see them they think I exagerate the condition. So when Ihear gasps of horror, I see that they get why I walked hunched over.
I was going to mail my boots to Madrid, but someone told me there is rain coming and I should keep them at hand. So tomorrow I will try out walking all day in my sneakers and see if that helps.
As I walked, I thought of my old job at the lawfirm, where I would sit all day at my desk and had a paint bucked under my table for when my legs hurt so that I could my feet up. I don´t think anyone in the history of the world has missed a paint bucket, and if they have, it wasn´t as much as I did today.
I look like complete crap in all my pictures, fat, sweaty, red-faced. I don´t think I´ve ever wanted to wear make-up this much in my life. I almost want to make a promise to the patron saint of Cuba and patron of all things girlie that I will fix my hair and put on make up every day, but then I remember that that usually comes with heels... then I change my mind.
I´m a city girl. It´s becoming more apparent the more I am on this walk. The sun on my skin, the blisters on my feet, the fact that asphault feels like a relief to me when everyone else says that it´s harder to walk on. I wasn´t cut out for this thing, but still, it´s a priviledge to do it and I intend on taking every opportunity I can in order to enjoy it.
At about 10am this morning I was over it. I was done, all that I wanted to do was to take a hot bath, walk into Massage Envy, throw down my credit card and have them massage me til my skin fell off. Today was hard. Not quite as painful as day two had been, but it was certainly the second-hardest day. I almost chucked my boots into a rivine.
The only thing that I bought in person and not therough the internet were my boots. I walked into REI and told the man what I was doing, what the terrain consisted of and what it was all about. He sais he was familiar. He recommended the boots I bought over the nicer-feeling, softer ones, because he said that they would protect my feet from outside peril. What he didn´t say was that they would destroy my feet on the inside in the process.
I am now up to 12 blisters (and that´s not counting the new ones forming under the ones I already have). Somewhere aroung 2pm the pain starts. By 3pm the pain is so bad that the width of my steps decreases by half and I have to take twice as many to get to where I´m going.
But all the people around me are incredibly nice. Everyone is concerned for my feet and gasp whenever they see their state. I figure that before they see them they think I exagerate the condition. So when Ihear gasps of horror, I see that they get why I walked hunched over.
I was going to mail my boots to Madrid, but someone told me there is rain coming and I should keep them at hand. So tomorrow I will try out walking all day in my sneakers and see if that helps.
As I walked, I thought of my old job at the lawfirm, where I would sit all day at my desk and had a paint bucked under my table for when my legs hurt so that I could my feet up. I don´t think anyone in the history of the world has missed a paint bucket, and if they have, it wasn´t as much as I did today.
I look like complete crap in all my pictures, fat, sweaty, red-faced. I don´t think I´ve ever wanted to wear make-up this much in my life. I almost want to make a promise to the patron saint of Cuba and patron of all things girlie that I will fix my hair and put on make up every day, but then I remember that that usually comes with heels... then I change my mind.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Searching for a soundtrack
I almost feel that if I write that today wasn´t that bad, it´ll seem like I already beat the odds. Believe me, this is not so. Today my feet lasted longer, the terrain was easier and I had yesterday´s rest behind me. This morning I also went alone, I left after everyone else did because, as usual, I was fussing about with my feet. In truth, if you know me, you will realize that I am always slow and therefore usually late. But this is where good people come in again.
Yesterday, I spent the day, as you know, walking around Pamplona. I think in the last post I forgot to mention Hemingway. Hemingway spent a lot of time in Pamplona from 1923 through 1968. He wrote about it throughly in The Sun Also Rises. I began to ponder how Hemingway and I had a lot in common: Cuba, Spain, South Florida, journalism, writing. For a moment, I wanted to pray to his spirit for inspiration, but I decided against it in case he inspired me to drink heavily, seeing as that´s what he did for the second part of his life.
After my post, I was planning to stay in the hostel and sleep early, but this is never a plan that seems to work for me. I met up with this guy in the bathroom (most places have unisex bathrooms) as I was applying Betodine to the acne that has appeared on my shoulders due to the sweat under that backpack straps, and he said he was going out to get a bite and I decided to go along. We met up with two more pilgrims in the street and went for a few "pinchos" (tapas) in typical Navarra fashion. The way it works is that you go from bar to bar and order a small drink and a tapa and then move on to the next bar so youc an try the specialty of each place.
Everything we had was delicious, I had brazed duck in filo dough with raspberry preserves, goat cheese melted over a crushed tomato and toast, jamon iberico on toast with quail egg and a red pepper stuffed with ham and bechamel sauced that was then breaded and fried. That was certainly more than I had planned to eat that night.
Thank goodness I am a heavy sleeper as last night I was sourrounded by a quartet of snorers. I say quartet because I believe ( and I have a great musical ear) that they were harmonizing beautifully! But I didn´t care, I slept pretty well.
This morning I was the last one out the door, and started on a really nice pace. I realized that I had been making a mistake where my foot care was concerned. Before i left, my mother gave me these rubbery like tubes that you can place around your toes in case they rub up against something in your shoe. These things are fabulous for sneakers, shoes and softer footware that is flexible when your feet on it. What they are not good if the footware that you are wearing is stiff, like for example, hiking boots! I was walking around like a wicked step sister who went hiking in Cinderella´s smaller glass hiking boot. It´s not bad enough that I wear a size nine, I had to make my feet bigger!
So today, when I realized my mistake, I put on Band Aids instead and my feet didn´t feel nearly as cramped. Today was pretty good. I keep trying to take pictures of the countryside and trying to do it justice, but I can´t. Standing atop of a hill you just climbed and staring around you at wind mills that produce power in front of the bluest sky you´ve ever seen is not capturable, even on my 12MP Nikon camera. The grass is so green, it´s the kind of true green you would find in a child´s drawing as they had a pick from their 60+ Crayola set. Everything I could possibly type here falls short of what my eyes are experiencing.
As I walked today I had my iPod on the whole time, I try to keep the music upbeat as I am a slow walker and trying to keep pace with the music is better for me. What´s funny are the songs that go around and around in my head as my own personal walking soundtrack, so far it includes "I´m gonna be (500 miles)" by the Proclaimers, "Kodachrome" by Simon and Garfunkel, "Up!" by Shania Twain, "Pa´lante" by Willy Chirino and a few other relevant tunes that escape my mind. They roll around and around in my head no matter what I am listening to, although the Proclaimer´s song is probably the closest to an anthem as there are 525 miles from Saint Jean to Finisterre, appropriate eh?
Today was better than Day 3 and tomorrow will be better still. I have to make this post short as it is 11pm here and the sun really beat down on me today.
Love,
V
Yesterday, I spent the day, as you know, walking around Pamplona. I think in the last post I forgot to mention Hemingway. Hemingway spent a lot of time in Pamplona from 1923 through 1968. He wrote about it throughly in The Sun Also Rises. I began to ponder how Hemingway and I had a lot in common: Cuba, Spain, South Florida, journalism, writing. For a moment, I wanted to pray to his spirit for inspiration, but I decided against it in case he inspired me to drink heavily, seeing as that´s what he did for the second part of his life.
After my post, I was planning to stay in the hostel and sleep early, but this is never a plan that seems to work for me. I met up with this guy in the bathroom (most places have unisex bathrooms) as I was applying Betodine to the acne that has appeared on my shoulders due to the sweat under that backpack straps, and he said he was going out to get a bite and I decided to go along. We met up with two more pilgrims in the street and went for a few "pinchos" (tapas) in typical Navarra fashion. The way it works is that you go from bar to bar and order a small drink and a tapa and then move on to the next bar so youc an try the specialty of each place.
Everything we had was delicious, I had brazed duck in filo dough with raspberry preserves, goat cheese melted over a crushed tomato and toast, jamon iberico on toast with quail egg and a red pepper stuffed with ham and bechamel sauced that was then breaded and fried. That was certainly more than I had planned to eat that night.
Thank goodness I am a heavy sleeper as last night I was sourrounded by a quartet of snorers. I say quartet because I believe ( and I have a great musical ear) that they were harmonizing beautifully! But I didn´t care, I slept pretty well.
This morning I was the last one out the door, and started on a really nice pace. I realized that I had been making a mistake where my foot care was concerned. Before i left, my mother gave me these rubbery like tubes that you can place around your toes in case they rub up against something in your shoe. These things are fabulous for sneakers, shoes and softer footware that is flexible when your feet on it. What they are not good if the footware that you are wearing is stiff, like for example, hiking boots! I was walking around like a wicked step sister who went hiking in Cinderella´s smaller glass hiking boot. It´s not bad enough that I wear a size nine, I had to make my feet bigger!
So today, when I realized my mistake, I put on Band Aids instead and my feet didn´t feel nearly as cramped. Today was pretty good. I keep trying to take pictures of the countryside and trying to do it justice, but I can´t. Standing atop of a hill you just climbed and staring around you at wind mills that produce power in front of the bluest sky you´ve ever seen is not capturable, even on my 12MP Nikon camera. The grass is so green, it´s the kind of true green you would find in a child´s drawing as they had a pick from their 60+ Crayola set. Everything I could possibly type here falls short of what my eyes are experiencing.
As I walked today I had my iPod on the whole time, I try to keep the music upbeat as I am a slow walker and trying to keep pace with the music is better for me. What´s funny are the songs that go around and around in my head as my own personal walking soundtrack, so far it includes "I´m gonna be (500 miles)" by the Proclaimers, "Kodachrome" by Simon and Garfunkel, "Up!" by Shania Twain, "Pa´lante" by Willy Chirino and a few other relevant tunes that escape my mind. They roll around and around in my head no matter what I am listening to, although the Proclaimer´s song is probably the closest to an anthem as there are 525 miles from Saint Jean to Finisterre, appropriate eh?
Today was better than Day 3 and tomorrow will be better still. I have to make this post short as it is 11pm here and the sun really beat down on me today.
Love,
V
Friday, April 9, 2010
Searching for a pace
I smell feet. It´s awful. For the second night, I am staying at a hostel in Pamplona, I was only allowed to stay a second night because I got here in such bad condition. It´s a beautifully restored Episcopalian church that was given to the City of Pamplona to make a pilgrim´s hostel (http://www.pamplona.net/VerPagina.asp?idPag=356&idioma=1). But all I can think about at this moment is how it SMELLS LIKE FEET! There is this man whom I guess finished his path and was exhausted and has simply fallen asleep with his dirty socks on and the entire left wing of the place (the one I am currently in) STINKS!
But enough about feet. I am overwhelmed and touched by the response to my first blog. A part of me wants to be as honest as possible so I admit that I am a little intimidated by myself. Everyone liked the first entry so much that I am afraid of boring you the rest of the way. But these are my demons, one of which I will have to deal with along the way.
After the excruciating pain I was in on Day 2, I decided that I would no longer simply "go, go, go!" and instead, "chill, chill, chill..." go at my pace and the like. So I meant to wake up first thing in the morning on Day 3, but after I wrote my post, I was so hyper that I stayed up for a long while. I woke up at 6:45 and I have realized that one of the traits I have picked up from my mother is that I am a slow morning person, unlike so people I can´t just get up and go. So it took me a while to get up and going.
I got out at about 9:15 and started at a pretty slow pace, I took loads of pictures and rested a while. They say that you learn something new every day, well the day before, I learned that stopping to rest for me was not a good idea, because every time I stopped, I allowed for my feet to swell and my pain to increase. So the first time I stopped on Day 3 I sat on a wall i a town and put my feet up, this proved to be better. The second time I stopped I was next to a road about two feet from the main highway and I took off my boots and thick socks, stayed in my liners and put my legs up against the wall, this proved to be wise as well. It was here where I was approached by another pilgrim named Marcos (not Marcus!) he asked me where I was going and said that he was heading to a hostel with 140 spots. I figured we were heading to the same one and thought we should call to inquire about reservations. No one picked up. So Marcos went about his merry way and I didn´t give it a second thought. I began to put my boots on when this killer lizard (lagartija asesina!) almost ate me! Well I exagerate.
ASIDE: If you know little about me, one of the things you probably know is that I am petrified of snakes. Seriously, all jokes aside, I have a paralyzing fear of snakes. I know there are snakes out there, I have prepared myself to see one, and every time I see something snake-like on the Camino (and sue to my paranoia this occurs at least once per hour) I jump. But again, I am dealing with it.
The lizards here aren´t like the ones in Miami. the ones in Miami get up on their feet and run around, the ones here stay closer to the ground so they slither (very much appearing like snakes), and apparently, they have absolutely no fear of human beings. As I was putting on my boots, this HUGE (like the size of my hand) lizard tried to crawl up my backpack, I jumped and it fell to my smaller bag and I freaked out! It tried to get closer but I think I finally scared it as it crawled under a rock.
Then I got lost. There was this confusing sign that said you could go two ways, I thought I chose the shorter one, apparently it was also the tricky one because I went through an alternate Camino route that was four kilometers longer. Let me explain something to you, when every step you take and every move you make is excruciatingly painful, four kilometers extra SUCKS!!!!!!!!
But I was meant to get lost.
When I finally couldn´t take it anymore and was almost at the point I was on Day 2 where I sat on a rock and called my mother, I stopped at a bar to eat and put my feet up. Despite the fact that as a pilgrim you are allowed to get away with lots of stuff (like eating cheaper and sleeping cheaper and dancing naked on Spanish highways). The reason is that in the end, people think that you are crazy, and the figure that if they keep you happy you won´t direct your craziness toward them.
Nonetheless, I was mortified when I took my shoes and cocks and liners up and put my feet up (what would my grandmother think?). But pain trumps manners any day of the week. So I took off my socks and blister liquid-drenched liners and put my feet up. When she brought me the food, the young lady (Susana) told me she had an oil that I could put on my feet after lunch. I thanked her and she brought it. I spoke to my mom and Conchi and Jason, and when I finished my meal I went to put the oil on when Susana stopped me. She bent down and took my foot. I recoiled and insisted my feet were dirty and horrible, but she said she didn´t care.
I must have been meant to get lost. I don´t know what was in that oil other than lavender it must have contained crack, because by the time she was done my swelling was gone and I felt much, much better. I will never be able to repay the kindness both in action and in word that Susana showed me. She was most certainly a sign that even if I get lost, I am on the path I am meant to be.
Everyone, and I mean everyone I have met has been absolutely wonderful. People stop me all over to talk to me. They all admire the sacrifice pilgrims undergo. They have told me I´m very brave and when I inquire as to why simply to make sure what I have heard about crime is true, they tell me that though I am very safe, it still takes guts to do this alone. Ironically, I have been alone very little since I began this journey.
There are some people that have faith in the above and are always looking up. I have believed (and I´m not sure I´ve said this in so many words before ) that if you look inside the eyes of a person who is showing you kindness, you can actually see God.
As I walk the Camino, I can´t help but forget I am not in Hialeah. I mean man! It´s uncanny! The Romanesque bridge leading into Pamplona is so similar to the 826 overpass, I feel like I´m about to cross over to 49th street!
But seriously, I have never been a nature person, but you have to wonder how much beauty we are missing by always being surrounded by concrete. The flowers, the trees, even the gross, gross, massive heaps of sheep, horse and cow dung I have to leap over are kind of cool (well at least the first couple of times, then it´s all the same shit).
Last night, in the hostel I took care of my blisters yet again and gave some love to my shoulders, who, unlike my feet (which I have now named Burt and Ernie for the left and right respectively) have not complained at all yet are a nice shade of puce with dots of lavender.
Today I "took the day off" and walked Pamplona sans backpack or killer boots. I´m at the hostel early and hope to get a good night´s rest before I head out again tomorrow to Puente la Reina, hope I make it.
love,
Veronica
But enough about feet. I am overwhelmed and touched by the response to my first blog. A part of me wants to be as honest as possible so I admit that I am a little intimidated by myself. Everyone liked the first entry so much that I am afraid of boring you the rest of the way. But these are my demons, one of which I will have to deal with along the way.
After the excruciating pain I was in on Day 2, I decided that I would no longer simply "go, go, go!" and instead, "chill, chill, chill..." go at my pace and the like. So I meant to wake up first thing in the morning on Day 3, but after I wrote my post, I was so hyper that I stayed up for a long while. I woke up at 6:45 and I have realized that one of the traits I have picked up from my mother is that I am a slow morning person, unlike so people I can´t just get up and go. So it took me a while to get up and going.
I got out at about 9:15 and started at a pretty slow pace, I took loads of pictures and rested a while. They say that you learn something new every day, well the day before, I learned that stopping to rest for me was not a good idea, because every time I stopped, I allowed for my feet to swell and my pain to increase. So the first time I stopped on Day 3 I sat on a wall i a town and put my feet up, this proved to be better. The second time I stopped I was next to a road about two feet from the main highway and I took off my boots and thick socks, stayed in my liners and put my legs up against the wall, this proved to be wise as well. It was here where I was approached by another pilgrim named Marcos (not Marcus!) he asked me where I was going and said that he was heading to a hostel with 140 spots. I figured we were heading to the same one and thought we should call to inquire about reservations. No one picked up. So Marcos went about his merry way and I didn´t give it a second thought. I began to put my boots on when this killer lizard (lagartija asesina!) almost ate me! Well I exagerate.
ASIDE: If you know little about me, one of the things you probably know is that I am petrified of snakes. Seriously, all jokes aside, I have a paralyzing fear of snakes. I know there are snakes out there, I have prepared myself to see one, and every time I see something snake-like on the Camino (and sue to my paranoia this occurs at least once per hour) I jump. But again, I am dealing with it.
The lizards here aren´t like the ones in Miami. the ones in Miami get up on their feet and run around, the ones here stay closer to the ground so they slither (very much appearing like snakes), and apparently, they have absolutely no fear of human beings. As I was putting on my boots, this HUGE (like the size of my hand) lizard tried to crawl up my backpack, I jumped and it fell to my smaller bag and I freaked out! It tried to get closer but I think I finally scared it as it crawled under a rock.
Then I got lost. There was this confusing sign that said you could go two ways, I thought I chose the shorter one, apparently it was also the tricky one because I went through an alternate Camino route that was four kilometers longer. Let me explain something to you, when every step you take and every move you make is excruciatingly painful, four kilometers extra SUCKS!!!!!!!!
But I was meant to get lost.
When I finally couldn´t take it anymore and was almost at the point I was on Day 2 where I sat on a rock and called my mother, I stopped at a bar to eat and put my feet up. Despite the fact that as a pilgrim you are allowed to get away with lots of stuff (like eating cheaper and sleeping cheaper and dancing naked on Spanish highways). The reason is that in the end, people think that you are crazy, and the figure that if they keep you happy you won´t direct your craziness toward them.
Nonetheless, I was mortified when I took my shoes and cocks and liners up and put my feet up (what would my grandmother think?). But pain trumps manners any day of the week. So I took off my socks and blister liquid-drenched liners and put my feet up. When she brought me the food, the young lady (Susana) told me she had an oil that I could put on my feet after lunch. I thanked her and she brought it. I spoke to my mom and Conchi and Jason, and when I finished my meal I went to put the oil on when Susana stopped me. She bent down and took my foot. I recoiled and insisted my feet were dirty and horrible, but she said she didn´t care.
I must have been meant to get lost. I don´t know what was in that oil other than lavender it must have contained crack, because by the time she was done my swelling was gone and I felt much, much better. I will never be able to repay the kindness both in action and in word that Susana showed me. She was most certainly a sign that even if I get lost, I am on the path I am meant to be.
Everyone, and I mean everyone I have met has been absolutely wonderful. People stop me all over to talk to me. They all admire the sacrifice pilgrims undergo. They have told me I´m very brave and when I inquire as to why simply to make sure what I have heard about crime is true, they tell me that though I am very safe, it still takes guts to do this alone. Ironically, I have been alone very little since I began this journey.
There are some people that have faith in the above and are always looking up. I have believed (and I´m not sure I´ve said this in so many words before ) that if you look inside the eyes of a person who is showing you kindness, you can actually see God.
As I walk the Camino, I can´t help but forget I am not in Hialeah. I mean man! It´s uncanny! The Romanesque bridge leading into Pamplona is so similar to the 826 overpass, I feel like I´m about to cross over to 49th street!
But seriously, I have never been a nature person, but you have to wonder how much beauty we are missing by always being surrounded by concrete. The flowers, the trees, even the gross, gross, massive heaps of sheep, horse and cow dung I have to leap over are kind of cool (well at least the first couple of times, then it´s all the same shit).
Last night, in the hostel I took care of my blisters yet again and gave some love to my shoulders, who, unlike my feet (which I have now named Burt and Ernie for the left and right respectively) have not complained at all yet are a nice shade of puce with dots of lavender.
Today I "took the day off" and walked Pamplona sans backpack or killer boots. I´m at the hostel early and hope to get a good night´s rest before I head out again tomorrow to Puente la Reina, hope I make it.
love,
Veronica
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Searching for Carbs: Day Two of the Adkins Diet.
They say that the second day of the Adkins diet is the worst, it is the day that your body is going into Keitosis and you suffer from "clinical depression". Well I guess the Camino must have a lot oto do with the Adkins diet because today was an absolutely horrble day.
At the end of the day: (what I suspect to be) two broken pinkie toes, 8 blisters (3 HUGE ones), lots of pain and a dash of desperation. But I made it, Camino:1 Veronica: 0 (it will be zero til I get there).
So today was the day that we walk from Roncesvalles to Zubiri. My feet started out hurting from the get-go and I thought the pain would not escalate from there; boy was I mistaken! I dont´think I have ever felt so much pain in my life! Yesterday I crossed the Pyrinees and I thought "they say today is the worst day." except they don´t tell you that on the second day you have to deal with all the aftermath of your first day, and believe me people, the Pyrinees are bithces, every last one of them.
The first hostel I stayed in was pretty great, they had a really good atmosphere "L Espirit du Chemin" and it really was a fantastic experience. The place is owned by a couple who work for free and live like their guests for the entire six months the open, the other six months of the year they move back to their home on Holland, where they are from, and try to make enough money to survive the reast of the time. People who have done the Camino and have stayed there previously go to volunteer for a couple of weeks at t a time.
There I met Yurgen, a a 44-year-old ultra-conservative Catholic, with Rastafarian dreads, whose philosophy in life is to not work and simply ask God for the things that he needs (by the way this really does work for him), he also seems to be a communist (the utopian version not the Castro one) and he´s a pot farmer. You guys will see pictures of him when I get back. He was really nice to me despite the fact that he spoke very little English and I no German. But his Germanness was getting on my nerves as he simply wanted to "go, go, go!" and my feet didn´t allow. I found myself not being able to have a moment without him and I couldn´t deal. So, today I think I dropped enough hints and he walked in front of me.
Today was terrible I cried at one point. I wanted to cry before the point that I did but I think the ters, they just didn´t want to come. There came a point today where my feet started to really hurt. Whereas yesterday I looked at the surroundings and marvelled at the beauty I was walking through, today I barely kept my eyes off the ground should I slip. The times I did look up I could see how gorgeous it was, my feet were in so much pain. And let me tell you why.
So Miami is not a place to break in boots, no matter how much I walked in them and wore the boots what I thought was sufficient time for them to be worn in, they were not, people could simply look at my boots and tell that they were not broken in due to the kind of boot that they are. I of course bought the best kind of boot for this, the one that would protest your feet the most from outside damage, well, no one told me that these boots' killer instinct would also be aimed at my poor feet. OK so that one you can´t blame me for. But I am still a come-mierda...
Monday, when I arrived to Saint Jean Pied du Port I went to the Pilgrim information office. They said that there were two paths to take to Roncesvalles: 1. the Napoleon ROute through the mountains, or 2. The path along the road. Of course, you know which one I chose, and you know I did it because it was the prettiest of the two, but seriously I COULD HAVE BOUGHT A POST CARD!
By the time I got the Hostel: about 100 bunk-beds located in a beautiful old church (don´t worry people, they had running hot water and heating)I knew I would finish this Camino because there was no way in Hell I delt with everything I did to not finish it... and it´s only day 1! So yestreday people recommended I tape my feet for the blisters, the tape was very sticky and I basically wrapped my foot in it, and, well, my foot got taped to the flip-flop. I thought for a second I was going to either have to rip my skin off or do the Camino with one chancleta and one boot.
Today I felt the aftermath of my decision yesterday, apparently, Karma is not stricly Hindu.
The word of the day is wet. I was all wet, it was pouring and muddy, most of the down hills felt like water slides. I am very thankful Conchita (my grandfather´s wife) told me to cut my crap of "finding" sticks along the way and to just buy sticks at the sport's store, I will never be able to thank that woman enough. Although, maybe if I had fallen and gone down the mountains on my ass, my feet wouldn´t hurt so much? Now I´m not so sure.
At one point, I had to leave the people I was walking with and sit on a rock, cry and call my mother (or call my grandfather and tell him to call my mother and tell her to call me).
My mother told me that the path of the Camino was a microcosm of the path of life, and it was then I realized that I had spent the last two days trying to keep someone else's rhythm and that this was part of my problem. Maybe that´s soemthing I do in life as well? I shall have to ponder. That conversating gave me strenght to not sleep right there on the floor because my pain was so great.
I cried when I got to Zubiri. I am actually in a 5-star Hostel now (no there is no such thing, but if there were, this would be it. The stay, dinner, laundry and breakfast tomorrow morning cost me 32 Euros (which is quite expensive) but I have an entire room to myself (the other 9 beds are not occupied) and this room has two shower stalls for itself!!!!!!!!!!!! Yesterday I had to share two stalls with over 35 people! And these are REAL showers! Not the kind that you have to keep pressing a button so that the water comes back. My laundry is already folded and in my room and dinner was delicious.
I am in this hostel along with three other gentlemen, Robert (late 40s from Canada), Reto (50s from Switzerland) and Phillipe (50s from France). Needless to say the conversation at dinner was really cool!
I am not looking forward to tomorrow, I fear more blisters and strife are in my future. But I know I will make it to Santiago; all I have to do is walk.
At the end of the day: (what I suspect to be) two broken pinkie toes, 8 blisters (3 HUGE ones), lots of pain and a dash of desperation. But I made it, Camino:1 Veronica: 0 (it will be zero til I get there).
So today was the day that we walk from Roncesvalles to Zubiri. My feet started out hurting from the get-go and I thought the pain would not escalate from there; boy was I mistaken! I dont´think I have ever felt so much pain in my life! Yesterday I crossed the Pyrinees and I thought "they say today is the worst day." except they don´t tell you that on the second day you have to deal with all the aftermath of your first day, and believe me people, the Pyrinees are bithces, every last one of them.
The first hostel I stayed in was pretty great, they had a really good atmosphere "L Espirit du Chemin" and it really was a fantastic experience. The place is owned by a couple who work for free and live like their guests for the entire six months the open, the other six months of the year they move back to their home on Holland, where they are from, and try to make enough money to survive the reast of the time. People who have done the Camino and have stayed there previously go to volunteer for a couple of weeks at t a time.
There I met Yurgen, a a 44-year-old ultra-conservative Catholic, with Rastafarian dreads, whose philosophy in life is to not work and simply ask God for the things that he needs (by the way this really does work for him), he also seems to be a communist (the utopian version not the Castro one) and he´s a pot farmer. You guys will see pictures of him when I get back. He was really nice to me despite the fact that he spoke very little English and I no German. But his Germanness was getting on my nerves as he simply wanted to "go, go, go!" and my feet didn´t allow. I found myself not being able to have a moment without him and I couldn´t deal. So, today I think I dropped enough hints and he walked in front of me.
Today was terrible I cried at one point. I wanted to cry before the point that I did but I think the ters, they just didn´t want to come. There came a point today where my feet started to really hurt. Whereas yesterday I looked at the surroundings and marvelled at the beauty I was walking through, today I barely kept my eyes off the ground should I slip. The times I did look up I could see how gorgeous it was, my feet were in so much pain. And let me tell you why.
So Miami is not a place to break in boots, no matter how much I walked in them and wore the boots what I thought was sufficient time for them to be worn in, they were not, people could simply look at my boots and tell that they were not broken in due to the kind of boot that they are. I of course bought the best kind of boot for this, the one that would protest your feet the most from outside damage, well, no one told me that these boots' killer instinct would also be aimed at my poor feet. OK so that one you can´t blame me for. But I am still a come-mierda...
Monday, when I arrived to Saint Jean Pied du Port I went to the Pilgrim information office. They said that there were two paths to take to Roncesvalles: 1. the Napoleon ROute through the mountains, or 2. The path along the road. Of course, you know which one I chose, and you know I did it because it was the prettiest of the two, but seriously I COULD HAVE BOUGHT A POST CARD!
By the time I got the Hostel: about 100 bunk-beds located in a beautiful old church (don´t worry people, they had running hot water and heating)I knew I would finish this Camino because there was no way in Hell I delt with everything I did to not finish it... and it´s only day 1! So yestreday people recommended I tape my feet for the blisters, the tape was very sticky and I basically wrapped my foot in it, and, well, my foot got taped to the flip-flop. I thought for a second I was going to either have to rip my skin off or do the Camino with one chancleta and one boot.
Today I felt the aftermath of my decision yesterday, apparently, Karma is not stricly Hindu.
The word of the day is wet. I was all wet, it was pouring and muddy, most of the down hills felt like water slides. I am very thankful Conchita (my grandfather´s wife) told me to cut my crap of "finding" sticks along the way and to just buy sticks at the sport's store, I will never be able to thank that woman enough. Although, maybe if I had fallen and gone down the mountains on my ass, my feet wouldn´t hurt so much? Now I´m not so sure.
At one point, I had to leave the people I was walking with and sit on a rock, cry and call my mother (or call my grandfather and tell him to call my mother and tell her to call me).
My mother told me that the path of the Camino was a microcosm of the path of life, and it was then I realized that I had spent the last two days trying to keep someone else's rhythm and that this was part of my problem. Maybe that´s soemthing I do in life as well? I shall have to ponder. That conversating gave me strenght to not sleep right there on the floor because my pain was so great.
I cried when I got to Zubiri. I am actually in a 5-star Hostel now (no there is no such thing, but if there were, this would be it. The stay, dinner, laundry and breakfast tomorrow morning cost me 32 Euros (which is quite expensive) but I have an entire room to myself (the other 9 beds are not occupied) and this room has two shower stalls for itself!!!!!!!!!!!! Yesterday I had to share two stalls with over 35 people! And these are REAL showers! Not the kind that you have to keep pressing a button so that the water comes back. My laundry is already folded and in my room and dinner was delicious.
I am in this hostel along with three other gentlemen, Robert (late 40s from Canada), Reto (50s from Switzerland) and Phillipe (50s from France). Needless to say the conversation at dinner was really cool!
I am not looking forward to tomorrow, I fear more blisters and strife are in my future. But I know I will make it to Santiago; all I have to do is walk.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)