The Camino and Me

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The Camino and Me
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    • Day 25; Foncebadón- Ponferrada – 25 km

      Posted at 1:47 pm by Mary Murphy, on April 4, 2020

      Cruz de Ferro, a famous Camino landmark, is a huge iron cross originally erected to help pilgrims find their way across the mountain. Over the years, a large mound has formed at its base as pilgrims have added a stone, brought from home, to symbolise what they want to leave behind and their readiness for rebirth on the last leg of the Camino. Legend has it that when the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela was being built, pilgrims were asked to contribute to its building by bringing a stone; hence the tradition at Cruz de Ferro.

      As I approached, I could see lots of people already there, standing amongst the stones and taking photographs. Not only had I missed the sunrise, but I didn’t have a stone. Still, I wanted to participate in the ritual along with everyone else. Stitched to my rucksack was a multicoloured ribbon, which for me represented joy, and I placed it between the stones. Put simply I wanted joy and play to have more prominence in my life.

      Walking across the mountain and through its villages was an uplifting experience. The picture perfect alpine village of El Acebo particularly stood out. I imagined people holidaying in the quaint, historic houses with their rickety balconies overhanging the narrow street, and for a while I felt more on holiday too – that is, until I was struck by the realisation that nothing big was going to happen to me on the Camino. It was like a bolt out of the blue. Suddenly, it became clear to me that I would be exactly the same person when I returned home as I had been when I started out. I could hardly believe that could be true. It was a reality I hadn’t bargained for, and in response I felt really angry and disappointed. What on earth was this Camino all about?

      Before arriving in the town of Molinaseca, where I stopped for coffee, I had managed to walk off or at least park my anger. Inside the café I met Darren, the Irishman I had briefly encountered in Foncebadón, and we struck up easy conversation, which helped me forget my morning’s disappointment. Later we left together to continue our journey. Darren was good company and I felt really relaxed, until we arrived at the enormous municipal albergue in Ponferrada. The registration process took place outside in the courtyard, and as I stood in the queue with Darren I began to feel uncomfortable about the possibility of sharing a dorm with him. But I needn’t have worried; I was allocated a small room with two bunk beds and three new companions.

      After a nap I made my way to the kitchen with my journal and took a seat at one of the long tables. Although I had slept, I felt unbelievably tired on all levels. I began to reflect on what I had discovered earlier in the day. My expectation that something big would happen was really a fantasy, a belief that I would become somebody or something else. It’s not that I actually wanted to be another person, more a case that just being me wasn’t really enough: I had to be something. Once the initial shock, anger and disappointment had worn off, what I felt was total relief. I realised that I had been saved from the utter disappointment of arriving in Santiago expecting my fantasy to be fulfilled there. So as I sat in the albergue that evening I knew something big had happened, just not the kind of big I had anticipated.

      Later that night while I was food shopping, I met Branu for the first time in four days. He had just arrived in Ponferrada, which hardly seemed believable, as it was 9 p.m. I couldn’t imagine that he would have dawdled so much along the way that he needed to walk in darkness to get to his destination. Over a glass of wine in the albergue courtyard, I discovered that he had walked with Kirsten to Molinaseca, intending to stay there, but that they had arrived too late for beds. While they could have shared a hotel room, it was not Branu’s style, so instead of spending a relaxing evening at Molinaseca, they had set out on the additional eight kilometre walk to Ponferrada. Although Kirsten was a good walker, she was nearly thirty years older than Branu, and I wondered if it was something she went along with rather than wanted.

      Our time to catch up that night was fairly short – the 10 p.m. curfew arrived all too soon – but we agreed to leave together to continue our reacquaintance in the morning. When I got to my room, it was in complete darkness and the ladder that had been there earlier to help me reach the top bunk had mysteriously been removed. After a couple glasses of wine, I was both a little tipsy and a little noisy in my endeavours to get to bed. But since I blamed one of my room-mates for moving my ladder, I wasn’t too bothered about the grunts that communicated their displeasure.

      Posted in Day by Day | 0 Comments | Tagged albergue, angry, Camino, disappointed, El Acebo, Foncebadón, journal, joy, Molinaseca, Pilgrims, Ponferrada, Rebirth, Santiago de Compostela
    • 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
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