The Camino and Me

The Camino and Me
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  • My Camino Story
  • Posts
    • Camino Frances Introduction, Cork – St Jean Pied de Port
      • Day 1; St Jean Pied de Port – Roncesvalles
      • Day 2; Roncesvalles – Zubiri
      • Day 3; Zubiri – Pamplona
      • Day 4; Pamplona to Obanos
      • Day 5; Obanos – Estella
      • Day 6; Estella – Los Arcos
      • Day 7; Los Arcos – Logroño
      • Day 8; Logroño – Ventosa
      • Day 9; Ventosa – Cirueña
      • Day 10; Cirueña – Santo Domingo de la Calzada
      • Day 11; Santo Domingo – Belorado
      • Day 12; Belorado – San Juan de Ortega
      • Day 13; San Juan de Ortega – Burgos
      • Day 14; Burgos – Hontanas
      • Day 15; Hontanas – Castrojeriz
      • Day 16; Castrojeriz – Frómista
      • Day 17; Frómista – Carrión de los Condes
      • Day 18; Carrión de los Condes – Ledigos
      • Day 19; Ledigos – Calzadilla de los Hermanillos
      • Day 20; Calzadilla de los Hermanillos – Mansilla de las Mulas
      • Day 21; Mansilla de las Mulas – León
      • Day 22; Leon – Hospital de Órbigo
      • Day 23; Hospital de Órbigo – Astorga – 15 km
      • Day 24; Astorga – Foncebadón – 27.2 km
      • Day 25; Foncebadón- Ponferrada – 25 km
      • Day 26; Ponferrada – Villafranca del Bierzo – 23.5 km
      • Day 27; Villafranca del Bierzo – La Faba – 25 km
      • Day 28; La Faba – Triacastela – 26 km
      • Day 29; Triacastella – Sarria – 25 km
      • Day 30; Sarria – Portomarín – 22.4 km
      • Day 31; Portomarín – Palas de Rei – 24.8 km
      • Day 32; Palas de Rei – Ribadiso – 25.8 km
      • Day 33; Ribadiso – Lavacolla – 32 km
      • Day 34: Lavacolla – Santiago and Goodbye
      • The Camino and Me
  • Themes
    • Stepping into the Ring
    • Clear Intention
    • Enjoying the mystery
    • Fear and Courage
    • Risk and Vulnerability
    • Meeting and Letting go
    • Giving In
  • Tag: Astorga

    • Day 24; Astorga – Foncebadón – 27.2 km

      Posted at 12:14 pm by Mary Murphy, on April 3, 2020

      As the Camino curved its way back into the mountains, the landscape transitioned from the vast sparseness of the Meseta into vibrant, intimate abundance. It felt like a new beginning, an emergence from the womb into an exciting new world. Most pilgrims I knew were intending to stay the night in Rabanal, a town at the bottom of the mountain, but I wanted to be higher up. When I saw Christine waiting for the albergue to open, I went over to say goodbye. ‘Go be with your spirit in the mountain,’ she said. Her words touched me, and I wondered if she had seen more of me than I realised.

      That night I decided to stay in a community albergue that offered bed, dinner and breakfast on a donation basis. The evening meal was determined by the shopping done earlier by the volunteer warden, and the pilgrims cooked and ate as a community. Until then I had avoided such places; I wanted to be on the outside of the community, not part of it. On arrival, I was told by the American warden that all the beds had been taken, but that I could have a mattress on the floor if I wished. This was followed by more disappointing news: there was no hot water. The man who had gone for gas hadn’t returned, nor was his return that day guaranteed. Since I had already decided I would stay there I wasn’t easily deterred, and I followed the warden to a room full of mattresses and a mix of German and American students. ‘We have one more,’ he announced. Immediately the students began to rearrange themselves to accommodate me. Then later they took over cooking dinner, while I and many others only had to turn up to the table.

      Foncebadón was more of a hamlet than a village; there was no place to go and nothing to do but relax on the veranda. While most people with beds slept, I enjoyed talking to a French couple who were cycling the Camino. It wasn’t often that I got a chance to talk to cyclists, as they generally stayed in different albergues to walkers. Just before dinner I took a short stroll, and while I was out I met Darren, an Irishman from County Meath. He was continuing his Camino after a stint as an artist in residence in Carrión de los Condes. But someone called ‘Dinner’, which put an end to our chat, as I was more than ready for food. Afterwards, I didn’t even wash dishes as there were so many hands available for work. Instead, I sat back on the veranda making a bracelet with elastic bands, colourful beads and letters of the alphabet.

      At bedtime most of us headed for sleep in anticipation of reaching Cruz de Ferro, the highest point on the Camino, in time for sunrise the following morning. However, for me sleep came slowly and as I lay on the thin mattress on the concrete floor, I felt cold and couldn’t avoid for long the call of nature. To reach the bathroom I had to overcome both psychological and physical barriers. Firstly, I had to persuade myself to get out of my sleeping bag when I really didn’t want to. Secondly, I had to give myself permission to make the necessary noise, as everything I was about to do involved discomfort for me and disturbance for others. With permission granted, my release began with the noisy separation of the Velcro strips on my sleeping bag, the equivalent of opening a packet of crisps in the cinema during the quiet bits of the film. Then I switched on my torch and swished the light around to establish the easiest route to the door without stepping on anybody. Stage one of my mission was successfully accomplished. Next was the dormitory with the beds and the sleeping bodies – the night would not be complete without disturbing them too. Oh, and I got to repeat the process on the way back. What fun!

      Posted in Day by Day | 0 Comments | Tagged albergue, Astorga, Camino, Carrión de los Condes., community, Cruz de Ferro, Foncebadón, Meseta, Pilgrims, Rabanal, spirit
    • Day 23; Hospital de Órbigo – Astorga – 15 km

      Posted at 4:52 pm by Mary Murphy, on April 2, 2020

      Things did not go to plan. My reliable German alarm clock, Toby, surprised himself and me by sleeping in! Then there was a bit of a scramble in the small room as ten of us tried to get up and pack for departure simultaneously.

      Mid morning Kathy and I stopped for an impromptu picnic with Jan and Christian on a hill overlooking the town of Astorga. They had been walking for three months and were well equipped with utensils and food; I watched in awe as they delicately sliced food into small portions to share with us. Christian sat beside me, and although I had felt blessed by his loving fatherly touch a week before, I found it a little too much that morning. I really enjoyed our picnic initially, but after a while I became anxious to move, and we left to continue our descent, leaving Jan and Christian to savour the view.

      Arriving in Astorga, I headed to the albergue to register and drop off my stuff while Kathy waited at an outdoor café across from the Gaudí building. We had both wanted to see Gaudí’s work, but it was Monday and the building was closed. So we sat and had some lunch as Kathy battled with her decision to stay in Astorga or walk on further. She was very tired and conflicted. At one point she went and lay on a bench to get some rest while I watched over her rucksack. I began to feel hopeful that she might stay, but I didn’t apply any pressure. While I sat on my own, Eugene and Heather came to join me, enquiring about Kathy’s whereabouts. Then when Kathy returned we sat again for a while until she announced she was leaving, and I accompanied her to the outskirts of town. After we said goodbye, I watched her walk on ahead, noticing how tired she looked with the weight of the huge rucksack on her back. I wandered aimlessly around town afterwards and I was struck very quickly by the loss I felt at her departure.

      I felt so sad. I knew I would miss her, but I really, really missed her, and although I hoped to bounce back after a nap, the feeling of loss stayed with me. In the supermarket, I wandered around hoping for inspiration, but I couldn’t make a decision, so I bought some water and sat on a bench in the square. All my energy seemed to have drained out of me; part of me wanted the Camino over because in some ways I felt it was.

      In retrospect, I understand more about what was important for me about meeting Kathy and why I missed her so much. She had the capacity to see me and accept me. I felt seen by her as me, rather than some version of me that she might have imagined me to be. Furthermore she was sufficiently contained within herself to listen deeply and I felt safe to share my inner world. I didn’t need to edit my expression or wear a protective mask. In short, we were kindred spirits. Given that, it’s not surprising I felt her absence intensely; such an experience in everyday life is rare. Back home in Colorado, Kathy worked as a school teacher and studied spiritual psychology at Santa Monica University; in my view, what she had could not be studied – it was simply who she was.

      Posted in Day by Day | 0 Comments | Tagged accepted, albergue, Astorga, Camino Frances, Hospital de Orbigo, kindred spirits, listen, Loss, pilgrimage, Sad, safe, seen
    • Mary Murphy

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