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