The Camino and Me

The Camino and Me
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  • My Camino Story
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    • 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: Hontanas

    • Day 15; Hontanas – Castrojeriz

      Posted at 4:39 pm by Mary Murphy, on February 9, 2020

      Leaving Hontanas in the darkness of the morning was a magical experience, as the path was lit by the stars. They provided just enough light to keep me out of potholes and I switched off my torch. A clear sky, combined with a path that was sandy white, illuminated the way.

      After the sun came up I ran into Brandi and gave voice to the thoughts I was having about calling it a day at Castrojeriz. It was not what I had intended when I set out that morning, but I was feeling pretty low; my throat hurt and I had very little energy. Truthfully, I had probably overdone it the day before. It was Sod’s Law really: any time I thought I got ahead, the following day I seemed to pay the price. The first café appeared on the outskirts of Castrojeriz and when I stopped, my decision not to walk any further that day had been made. So I enjoyed a large chocolate pastry and two cups of café con leche (milky coffee) for breakfast, and by the time I was ready to leave the café had cleared. Outside I saw Kathy, an American woman from Colorado, just standing up from her table. She was alone too. Instead of passing with my usual ‘Buen Camino’, I told her I was stopping for the day. In response she showed me her blistered feet and said she wasn’t going any further either.

      Out of a regard for Kathy’s feet we walked slowly up the hill into town and decided to reward ourselves with the comfort of a hotel room. While we waited for our rooms to be readied, we sat outside on a bench in the early morning sun and were completely open with each other about our lives and our Camino experiences. We clicked straight away. I felt Kathy understood when I said how difficult the experience was for me and how out of tune I felt with those who were having a wonderful time.

      After we checked into our hotel we went our separate ways, although I hoped we would meet again later in the day. However, as the day progressed I felt really vulnerable and tired, so I spent the whole day more or less in, or on, the bed. With nothing to do, the day was long and I wished I had a novel for company. At some point during the afternoon I picked up the only book I had brought with me, Conversations with God. It was not what I wanted to read, but it was all I had and so I began, reluctantly. Surprisingly, I really got into the book and felt my spirits lift.

      By the evening I was starving. I hadn’t had any lunch, and although I was in a hotel, they didn’t serve food; it functioned more as an apartment service. While I could have gone to any number of places, I didn’t have the energy I thought it required, nor was I in the mood for facing people. So after the rain stopped I found a local shop where I bought bread, fruit, cheese and cured meat for dinner in my room. That way I could also continue reading my book.

      Later, despite being in a real bed with actual sheets and having a private bathroom at my disposal, I had a fairly sleepless night; part of me wanted to be in the albergue with everyone else.

      Posted in Day by Day | 0 Comments | Tagged Blisters, Camino, Castrojeriz, Conversations with God, Hontanas
    • Day 14; Burgos – Hontanas

      Posted at 4:36 pm by Mary Murphy, on February 9, 2020

      In the morning I left the albergue while Burgos was still in darkness, and even though the streets were lit, the Camino signs were difficult to make out, so much so that I couldn’t see them at all! Ahead in the near distance, I noticed a female pilgrim making decisions without hesitation and I decided to follow her. It turned out that I was following Brandi, a young American in her twenties, and we began walking together from the outskirts of Burgos. At our first coffee stop we met some people we knew, including Eugene and Heather. In fact when I arrived Eugene enveloped me in an uncharacteristic hug, as though I was some long-lost relative. After we found a table, Manoel and Sue joined us and I felt my happiness was complete. When I was feeling good, as I was on that morning, I found those impromptu meetings among the loveliest of my Camino experiences.

      Brandi and I parted company some time later and before lunch I met Wilhelm who, much to my surprise, was walking alone, as he was one of the seven men from Friesland! Naturally I enquired about his comrades and found out that they had not originated as a group of seven, as I had imagined. Wilhelm had set out to walk the Camino alone, but got no further than the airport before he found a ready-made walking group. The six men carried the Friesland flag on their luggage and that was what had brought them to Wilhelm’s attention. What intrigued me about them was how they walked together – more of a march really, as though they were in the army; they looked like they were taking part in their daily drill. The Camino seemed to be mostly a physical challenge to them, while for Wilhelm it was more than that – he had a real gentleness of spirit. So the first day I talked to Wilhelm was his first day alone. The rest of his group had finished in Burgos, while he was walking on to Santiago, and indeed beyond, to Finisterre.

      I had set myself a big task for the day: almost thirty-two kilometres, which was quite an increase under the circumstances. It was the first day of what would be a week of walking the great Meseta Alta, a barren wilderness that provided little or no shade from the relentlessness of the sun. So after lunch I set off on the remaining fourteen-kilometre walk to Hontanas, while others quite sensibly finished their day’s walk at lunch time. I knew it would be difficult; I just didn’t know how difficult until I encountered the reality of no cafés, no trees and no shelter of any kind – just endless walking in oppressive heat.

      When I arrived at my destination it was about twelve hours after my day had begun and I booked myself into the first albergue I saw: a bar. They had rooms upstairs, along with additional dormitories located in a series of random buildings at the back. My dorm accommodated ten people and four of them were present when I arrived. We exchanged the normal pleasantries but I didn’t know any of them and I was soon off to complete my chores. As I stood washing at an outdoor sink in what felt like a back alley, I could hear noise and laughter nearby, and I realised how disconnected I felt. The transition from walking alone to being surrounded by people and gaiety was challenging, particularly after the difficulty of the day. Down in the square, outside pubs and bars, the whole of the Camino seemed to have congregated – so many people and yet I felt so lost and alone.

      Later I went down to the square to face the world, but I felt that I stood out like a sore thumb. I could no more have engaged in conversation than I could have walked another fourteen kilometres. After walking around the village to get my bearings, I positioned myself at a table with a pot of tea and took out my journal to write. Writing helped me to process my feelings and explore what was going on. The holiday atmosphere really jarred with me and I felt out of sync with the rest of the world. I didn’t know what I wanted, while I had a list of all the things I didn’t want. At the centre of it was my ongoing resistance to the evening meal, the pilgrim menu. In addition, I was resisting drinking alcohol as a way of passing time, while others appeared to be doing it with gusto.

      The pilgrim menu, a standard three-course meal served everywhere along the Camino, varies hardly at all from place to place, either in variety or cost. A simple salad – by simple I mean lettuce and tomato – or soup to start, followed by hake or stew with potatoes, but rarely any other vegetables. Dessert might be a banana, Santiago tart (almond), a pot of yogurt or sometimes ice cream, all washed down with red wine for a total cost of about €10. So what was my objection? I should be so lucky, right?

      Well, for days I had been trying to figure out how to reduce the carbohydrate content of my diet and increase my vegetable intake. Vegetables were normally only available in the soup. So in order to have vegetables I needed the starter as well as a main course, and then while I was there, how could I refuse a dessert? While my body had some difficulty with the amount of carbohydrate and lack of fibre I was consuming, my mind was even more troubled.

      Journaling helped me to realise the bind I had got myself into, and I began to see that my resistance to the pilgrim menu symbolised my rejection of how things were, a refusal to accept what is, which meant that I vetoed everything around me. In an ideal world, one of my own making, I would have had more control over my diet, but if I was to have any peace, I had to accept what was available. I was doing the Camino, after all, and pilgrim dinners were part of the deal!

      Posted in Day by Day | 0 Comments | Tagged albergue, Alone, Burgos, Camino, Camino Frances, control, Hontanas, journal, journalling, lost, Meseta Alta, peace, pilgrim, pilgrim menu, resistance, Santiago tart
    • Mary Murphy

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