The Camino and Me

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The Camino and Me
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    • Day 34: Lavacolla – Santiago and Goodbye

      Posted at 6:03 pm by Mary Murphy, on April 13, 2020

      I left the hotel joyfully in the morning, knowing that I was walking the final ten kilometres to Santiago. On the way I met the three amigos (Frank, Jill and Brett) and we stopped at Monte de Gozo, five kilometres from Santiago, to catch a glimpse of the city below. An hour or so later we entered the old town with its narrow streets and lovely artisan shops. Although they were charming, all I really wanted to see was the cathedral spire, and when it came into view, all roads led to Santiago de Compostela. Once we arrived in the square in front of the cathedral I left my rucksack in the care of others while I headed for the swanky Parador to use their facilities and Brett went to find his hotel.

      Inside the cathedral we searched for a seat, but it appeared they were all taken until some people squeezed a little closer to accommodate Frank, while Jill and I pitched our rucksacks against a stone column and got ourselves comfortable. Then we waited, and when Brett arrived he joined us on the floor. During Mass I felt completely at home. I thought of my mother, in particular, whose anniversary it was, and of a friend who was having an operation that day. I didn’t say formal prayers – I didn’t have the words and they didn’t seem necessary – I just held them in my heart and hoped that would be enough. Then I walked to receive Holy Communion, each footstep a sincere prayer of gratitude for the privilege of being there.

      Outside after Mass, I looked around to see who else I knew and I met Eugene. He told me that he had decided to leave Santiago in the afternoon and take a bus to where his wife was staying in Portugal. That had not been his intention when the day started and he still had to break the news to his walking companion, Heather. While I was surprised that he wasn’t staying to celebrate, at the same time I understood his desire to be reunited with his wife. Such a journey has a profound impact on the heart.

      In the evening I met my Brazilian friend Manoel who had been such a significant support to me in the first two weeks. The last time I had seen him was in Ponferrada where he was recuperating for a few days. I was delighted to learn that he had walked the last one hundred kilometres, despite the injury that had stopped him in his tracks ten days earlier.

      Last Supper Contingent

      Later I joined Mike, Jackie, Brett, Frank and Jill among others for the last supper and had a wonderful meal, followed by churros (doughnuts) with hot chocolate. But afterwards I headed away early to be alone with my loss, while my comrades seemed to be in more celebratory mood. In the last few days leading up to my arrival in Santiago I didn’t want the Camino to end. Of course I wanted to arrive in Santiago, but I didn’t want the adventure to be over. I had been on a long walk with my soul, exploring and discovering its deepest longing, and although it had been the most difficult experience of my life, it was also the most transformative, all of which meant that being in Santiago was bittersweet – the joy of arriving and the sadness of ending. For me, it was like being without my best friend.

      Earlier in the day when I had picked up my Camino certificate, I noticed how little it meant. In 2011, I had received a certificate of completion for walking the last one hundred kilometres of the Camino and it had meant a lot to me. Second time around I didn’t need it; I knew I had walked the Camino. It had taken me thirty-four days and my achievement felt deeply personal. Its meaning was something only I could know, and there was no certificate for that!

      Next day while I sat in a café over breakfast, I noticed a line of rucksacks resting against the counter and my heart jumped with longing to still be part of the pilgrim community. I assumed they were heading to Finisterre to meet the sea and what is known as the end of the world, and I wanted to go with them! But this part of my Camino was over. I had just one call to make before leaving; my last trip to the cathedral. Outside, a security guard prevented tourists entering during Mass. As Mass was already in progress, I knew it was pointless to pretend that that was what I had come for, so I told him the truth: I wanted to say goodbye. He indicated that that was good enough and stood back to allow me to enter. Inside, Mass was in full flow and I rested against another of the stone columns, absorbing fully what I was experiencing in my heart. I felt full of gratitude and love for the one who guided me, while I acknowledged, too, the heartbreak of the losses along the way.

      At the time I didn’t know what affect the Camino would have on me or how it would change my life. Now, I see it as the threshold that divides my life: the life before and the life after.

      The Camino is in me now.

      Posted in Day by Day | 1 Comment | Tagged Camino Certificate, camino de santiago, Finisterre, Goodbye, gratitude, guidance, heartbreak, Lavacolla, longing, Loss, Monte de Gozo, Ponferrada, Santiago, Santiago de Compostela, Soul walk, threshold, transformative
    • Day 26; Ponferrada – Villafranca del Bierzo – 23.5 km

      Posted at 5:09 pm by Mary Murphy, on April 5, 2020

      The albergue staff switched on the overhead lighting at 6 a.m., and with the brightness difficult to ignore, I sprung out of bed quickly. The three strangers I had shared the dorm with were early starters and had already left. Kirsten, on the other hand, was slow to mobilise herself; I had finished breakfast before she appeared, she looked exhausted after her long trek the previous day, even putting on boots seemed to take a lot of her energy.

      Although we began walking together, Branu gradually fell behind and soon we couldn’t see him at all. It became apparent as we walked through the commercial district, which was completely different to the quaint old city, that Ponferrada was a lot bigger than we’d anticipated. With the city signs competing with one another for attention, I lost sight of the Camino and began to follow another pilgrim, assuming she could see what I could not. Mistake! It transpired that we were following Elizabeth from Dublin, and I don’t know who she was following. She worked as a teaching assistant in Madrid and had good Spanish, which came in handy, as we were lost. If I had been on my own I would have retraced my steps, but I felt safe in numbers and had faith that we would find our way back. However, Kirsten was less trusting – of me, of herself, or anyone else; mostly, perhaps, she was worried about being parted from Branu.

      About two hours later we were reunited with the Camino and shortly afterwards, Kirsten and I stopped at a café. Darren was there ahead of us and I was pleased to see him, as I needed some light relief. Walking with Kirsten for the previous couple of hours had been draining, so I was glad of Darren’s company. The three of us left together after coffee, and as the morning progressed into afternoon, Darren and I laughed our way through story after story. We were as carefree as school kids on a day off. I really don’t recall what we were laughing at, but it all seemed funny at the time. After a while, Kirsten dropped back and later I saw her in a bar having a beer with Heather and Eugene.

      In Villafranca, the albergue of popular choice was referred to as the ‘hippy place’. Run by a family who had been tending to pilgrims for years, it felt more like a community than usual, and it was clear that the family enjoyed the role they played. The upstairs dorms were accessed by external staircases while balconies overlooked the courtyard below, and as I observed the flow of movement from my vantage point in the queue, I had the feeling of being on holiday.

      When Darren and I got to the top of the registration line, we were allocated a double bunk bed – not ideal, but I knew I would be okay. I felt really happy. I knew so many people; Kirsten had arrived with Heather and Eugene, and I was especially pleased to see Branu a little later. Even before he showered, he ordered a bottle of wine and the three of us pooled our food resources for a lovely impromptu picnic. Those were some of the best moments. I felt so fond of Branu. Sometimes we had deep philosophical conversations and at other times we would just look at one another and laugh. I felt no pressure from him or with him. I could come and go as I pleased and we would be happy to meet whenever we did. He was also the bridge that connected me to Kirsten; we seemed to need his laid-back let’s-have-some-fun attitude as an antidote to the intensity between us. His appearance often put things into perspective for me, and I would suddenly find my playfulness again.

      Then after a lovely day I found myself drifting away and disconnecting in the evening. I didn’t seem to know what to do with myself and I felt at a loss. At the communal dinner, I struggled to participate in conversation; it took so much energy for me to talk at all. I could see Darren further down the table; he seemed to be getting along well with the girl on his right and I wondered if I had lost my companion.

      Posted in Day by Day | 0 Comments | Tagged albergue, Camino, pilgrim, Ponferrada, Villafranca del Bierzo
    • 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
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