The way to Santiago - the last bits

Over the days that went by we met more and more people. So many that at some point I felt a bit lost, as I had wanted to do this trip on my own, and felt I now had not only Esther with me at all times, but dozens of others. And I enjoyed everyone's company, but craved a bit of time for myself. For the freedom of doing what I pleased, and not what was expected.  And because I felt I just couldn't connect with myself, with my being. I felt I was pleasing others and forgetting my little person in me.

But then again: Happiness is only real when shared. Right? You can't be alone all the time and be happy.


So we met: an argy full of blisters who couldn't walk anymore and was thinking of going back; his new friend from Tenerife, who had come to meet girls; Sergi, from Barcelona, who slept with us by chance in over three hostels, who was taking some time off work and who I later learnt was a good volunteering soul to children with cancer, mainly because he wanted to give some love to children he couldn't have himself. And the list kept growing, till we eventually became a group of almost twenty staying at the same hostels, and sharing a meal and experiences of each day, every night.

When my birthday arrived we were almost 30 celebrating each. Random people cooking, and buying drinks, and setting up the huge table, and writing a big card with loads of congratulations, even from people I hardly knew. I was so happy.

It reminded me of how I love to share when I'm capable of opening up to others, to listening stories, to smiling and laughing out of ridiculous stories more often, when I let the London guard down.

And days went by....until we finally arrived.

The beautiful city of Santiago, where the apostle James ( Santiago ) is buried, in a huge cathedral, where religious people go to pray and get their miracles conceived. Because people go asking for miracles; love, healing and peace miracles.

The arrival was not met by any sort of miracle, it was not as emotional as I had expected. However I did remind myself that one my let down the expectations of how things should be and just take them as what they are.

And to be honest, life is fucking good to me.

And I cried...
And I prayed.
And I left my stones behind.

The Way to Santiago - Part III

From Triacastela to Sarria
We left the 'albergue' and had a full continental breakfast with fresh orange juice included and by 9:00 we were walking up a beautiful dirt path, with green valleys around us, and the sunrise morning light with its early fogginess and cool breeze. Beautiful.

Third day learnings: 

The path was quite challending - a knee breaker, as some would call it - so we soon began to hurt, especially while going downhill. It was after we'd gone past the first few villages that we saw an old man in front of us hopping down with tiny steps, as if allowing his body to move down by gravity. It was a little trot downhill, but controlled by short steps. Esther and I found it hilarious, but when I decided to imitate the man, in an attempt to laugh about it, I soon discovered the benefits of it.

And I remembered Jack Kerouac's Dharma Bums and he's revelation that to go down a mountain you need to come down jumping. And so we decided to try it out. 

And it worked. Our trotting was a bit less controlled, and our steps where bigger. People would look at us as if weree crazy. But we felt much less pain when going down, so it didn't really matter what anyone would think.

It was fun.

Accomodation:
Albergue Casa Peltre. Scared of the Sarria's hoards of piligrims - Sarria is the last place where to begin El Camino, and still receive the 'Compostela' certificate - we decided to make reservations. We chose one that seemed pretty enough from the Eroski website.

And I was pleasantly surprised. We slept in the most beautiful room on our stay. Huge windows on most walls, one specially big - wall to wall window - overlooking the garden. I just wanted to stay there all day. And we met Sergi again there, who we'd met on Triacastela, who would then become our coincidential room companion through the rest of El Camino.

The Way to Santiago - Part II

From Alto de Poio to Triacastela - 14km

I woke up at 5 am a bit lost. Someone was already shuffling things around, the sound of zippers and quiet voices and shushing evident. I was wondering if I was still in London time but noticed it was still pitch black outside. The snoring was now breathable silent.

I decided to keep on sleeping and an hour later, more shuffling, lots of loud speaking and the turning on of lights. "what the f*%$?!" i thought. So unconsiderate. 

By 7 am I was wide awake and up, almost packed. Just two woman speaking some strange but familiar language. Dutch? I thought. No. Czeck. Aha. 

I came out and bumped into Esther at breakfast. She had also decided to take it easy. "Shall I wait for you?" she asked. I didn't really know if I wanted her to wait, but I told her that I would take it easy and she was most welcome to join me. 

I got my Piligrim passport on the bar across the street and a big glass of fresh orange juice and was ready to walk. Yey.

So off we went. The sun was shining, the grass was green on our side of the mountain, and there was nothing else I wanted more. We even got a pancake for free on our way.

No worries, no phone in my hand, no Citymapper of use to show us 'the way'. The Pilgrim's road was all marked with yellow arrows and shells on walls. I realised the side road walking the day before was not what I had been supposed to do. No wonder people had given me odd looks. 

It all made sense now. If only life had yellow sign posts showing the way all the time in life. So simple. 

The magic of Santiago's trail is there is not much to think about except getting to a certain point without blisters. All the rest is just spare time to either breathe and enjoy, if your mimd allows you that. Disconnect from life and re-center yourself.

Esther proved to be a great road friend. She was super spiritual and very perceptive, and up for learning living a life in a different way ( she'd never been in a hostel and decided to give it a try).

So in Triacastela we found the Albergue Xacobeo, a nice hostel and decided to share bedroom with another 8 people. She suffered with the snoring choir, but all in all she appreaciated the sharing community vibe. And hence how she became my partner in 'the way'.

The way to Santiago

A few years ago, six to be precise, I met a girl while travelling that told me her most amazing trip had been walking to Santiago. She had described the outburst of emotion, the nonstop uncontrolled crying, one of the most significant experiences in her life. As if the walk and the later crying, had cleansed a deep obscure side of her, as if her wounds had been be cured, as if she had finally been able to let go. A feeling of blissfull happiness.

Yesterday I started walking. Partly seeking redemption, and reconciliation with myself - cause I had ben a bit of a bitch to myself to be honest -  the other thinking walking would help me actually think in a more clean focused way, and would give me direction. Walking had always been challenging for me, mainly because I considered my feet useless because of my big arches, which had brought me so much pain on other walks I'd done in life. But I had "prepared" myself...a little...by buying inner soles - the good ones Scholls - and that's it really. Did not have special socks (just the usual H&M) or special shoes, but I thought my good trainers would do.

I flew to Madrid as I planned to visit a friend there first and then, the next day took a bus from Madrid to Pedrafita do Cebreiro. From that point I would only have to walk the last 150 km to Santiago, so as to cover 20/25 km in the seven days I had off work. I'd chosen the french Camino to Santiago which really starts in St. Jean Pied de Port, which if done complete takes aprox 32 days. However due to my olack of time, I could cover only the last bits. There are other many other trails one can pick from as people can walk from wherever they want (I met some people walking from Rome!). However the french had more meaning, as St Jean Pied de Port is where my great grandparents lived, so...it made sense.

So time to walk. One hundred and fifty kilometres will do. One hundred and fifty kilometres of my time, time to think, focus, figure out what I want, and let go.

First stage

Start: Piedrafita do Cebreiro.

Finished: at Alto Do Poio 

My plan had been to sleep first night in O Cebreiro but arrived at 6 pm and there were no beds left, which could have been scary and terrible given that I did not plan on walking and light would be gone in 2 hours. But it was alright. I walked 8 more kilometres and after several attempts found a bed in Alto. 

At Alto I met Esther, a woman from Andalucia trying to fix her 10 year marriage, taking some time off to re-think how she would cope with a separation (after 16 years of togetherness). It's amazing how much you get to know a stranger when you are placed on a spiritual pathway.

We decided to walk together the next day.

I went off to sleep that first night satisfied. I'd had a wonderful day alone full of music and beautiful scenery, and I had walked 13 kilometres. I was already feeling that sense of adventure you experience that first night, in an unknown bed, in a shared bedroom, surrounded by moans and strangers' snoring. Excited, full of hope. Happy.