There may be a few of you wondering what happened to Santiago de Compostela! It's already two weeks later.
After my self pitying, it's-all-about-me rant, I was blessed with encouragement and pride from my husband and wonderful down to earth words from my Laura. It's nobody's business how you got there; they don't know what you've been through! These are like warm hugs.
I had one Robaxacet with me which had been calling to me for days. I had tried everything else, give it a go, at the very least, I would get a good night's rest! This was the case and the day began.
We were all reserved and excited at the same time. Which always allows for Caminho moments. Laura knocked on the door to ask, Dad, can I carry Graham today. Yes, of course. We had asked if she wanted to at some point but to have it come as a request is an indescribable blessing to us. I will always treasure the silent exchange as I handed her the small package.
Then... our friends Beth and Jim back in Calgary had put together Bible verses and messages for each day on our first Camino and I had asked the favour of the same for this trip. For this day, Psalm 23, Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Oh my!
Dave and Laura set off over the train tracks and I stayed back to order a taxi to a likely meeting place. In fact, I saw them heading up a hill beside the church near the stop they had made at a café. The taxi left me at a park near the Casa Parada de Francos a beautiful looking rural inn. The park was a picnic area which gave me a place to sit, wait and enjoy the surroundings. It appeared to be the edge of a small residential development as cars came and went, people walked by up to the main street and one elderly woman made her way to the fruit trees in the yard nearby, picked a good piece and munched as she made her way slowly back home.
Soon the pilgrims started to come by so there were lots of Bom Caminho's to be given out. And then, at last, steps and voices which sound familiar and there they are with the Lithuanian couple they had met earlier. An interesting couple surprised to learn there is a wife along! Now they are really moved by our little family group.
We set off along the track and Laura was soon off on her own. This is good! Dave persevered with me until we came to the place of a possibility of a café. It looked pretty limited on the map but turned out to be a good sized town and what should be the welcome but a taxi sitting in front of a Farmacia! The first twinges had begun.
Google Translate got me more of the Spanish version of Robaxacet and a caution about it making me sleepy!
The café got us a very delicious potato snack, an actual toasted sandwich, a lovely visit with two women friends, one from Derbyshire, the other from Belfast and two glasses of wine for Dave. I was curious about how the walking was going to go for him!
Back to the Farmacia to ask about the taxi - he is at the café! Back to the café to find the driver. He kindly dropped me near a hotel marked on the map. A short walk along the marked Camino was another lovely park with a spot in the shade and a view of all the approaching walkers. It seemed to be taking longer than I had expected even though I knew from experience it takes what seems like forever to get from the outskirts of Santiago. I am glad to learn Laura did not trudge ahead but is with her Dad and we will walk in together as I had hoped.
In the blink of an eye, they appear and we set off up the busy street for the very last steps. Soon it is familiar with shops, bars and music! Up the hill on the other side of the Cathedral this time but the music of the piper at the usual entrance greets us as well. There it is - the Praza do Obradoiro - as it is most days filled with pilgrims and visitors.
We are happy but reserved again. Dave and I stand and contemplate. Laura enjoys some shade and the cool of the stones. She has done a great thing to bring her brother to this place.
Friday, September 25, 2015
Monday, September 21, 2015
Sept 11, 2015 what's a camino (Dave)
Laura and I were walking out of Redondela to Pontevedra; yes, another beautiful day for walking, somewhat overcast so as to not be hot, with rumours of rain possible.
We stopped at a café several hours down the road - a complete jumble-up with more people stuffed in wanting an espresso and bun and to get on again before the rain. As is so often he case with these mom/pop cafes, completely overwhelmed by the crowd and wholly understaffed, making the waiting just that much more tenuous, as one was never really quite certain the order might be relayed and returned, nor never quite knowing how much grace of time one should extend before either repeating or leaving.
We found a table in the corner, thought we had ordered and were calmly waiting for something to happen when the table next to us was taken up by a couple who in their patience undertook to start a conversation with us. They are from Lithuania, undertaking the pilgrimage in desire of receiving some direction on their next stage of life, following their children being set off and pursuing their own lives in various places. A delightful couple, Gunther and Viva, wholly humble and gentle-spirited, and taking their pleasure in each moment as it unfolded.
We saw them several times as we leap-frogged according to our paces. I noticed that Gunther (?) and one of their friends from Lithuania would stop at almost every icon along the way , statues, markers, chapels or churches, to take a moment to pray. I even noticed Gunther following this practice in Santiago in one of the heavier-trafficked tapas streets, inserting himself in the midst of several others oblivious in conversation.
This person was a real pilgrim, with a serious question articulated, and intent with expectation of receiving some direction from God, unlike most of the other travellers who were taking advantage of a well-supported route of travel, reasonably marked routes, enjoyment of the camaraderie which develops as one continues to mark the days with others' paces, and find yourself crossing paths.
I have great respect for those of us who undertake such an exercise with commitment and intention; mine however being much less clear.
It did however raise a question as to what this camino endeavor means and consists of. The camino is a process of putting one foot in front of the other at whatever pace you determine, and continue doing so until a specific goal / place is reached. The camino consists of a starting point and time, a passage of time in which questions of life are substantially reduced to cover health, food, shelter, weather, until one reaches the line in the sand, the goal.
Well, by gosh. This is really no less or more than what each of us does each day of our lives as we try to move consistently toward whatever the goal is - get a project done, meet deadlines, work on/build/strengthen relationships with friends, spouse, family. The blisters from walking are not much different from the resulting frictions that arise from living with others; both need to be tended to to ensure the problem reduces rather than increases in severity. The delight of sharing a meal at the end of the day with others you have spent the day walking and talking with, is not different from sharing the accomplishment of the day's goals with family, friends. The need for assistance from our travelling companions to help with blisters, advice etc, is no different from needing to ask for help with the problem immediately faced at home...
And then we get to do it all over again tomorrow! how hugely blessed we are to have those travelling with us to be a part of each of our lives, and we theirs.
We stopped at a café several hours down the road - a complete jumble-up with more people stuffed in wanting an espresso and bun and to get on again before the rain. As is so often he case with these mom/pop cafes, completely overwhelmed by the crowd and wholly understaffed, making the waiting just that much more tenuous, as one was never really quite certain the order might be relayed and returned, nor never quite knowing how much grace of time one should extend before either repeating or leaving.
We found a table in the corner, thought we had ordered and were calmly waiting for something to happen when the table next to us was taken up by a couple who in their patience undertook to start a conversation with us. They are from Lithuania, undertaking the pilgrimage in desire of receiving some direction on their next stage of life, following their children being set off and pursuing their own lives in various places. A delightful couple, Gunther and Viva, wholly humble and gentle-spirited, and taking their pleasure in each moment as it unfolded.
We saw them several times as we leap-frogged according to our paces. I noticed that Gunther (?) and one of their friends from Lithuania would stop at almost every icon along the way , statues, markers, chapels or churches, to take a moment to pray. I even noticed Gunther following this practice in Santiago in one of the heavier-trafficked tapas streets, inserting himself in the midst of several others oblivious in conversation.
This person was a real pilgrim, with a serious question articulated, and intent with expectation of receiving some direction from God, unlike most of the other travellers who were taking advantage of a well-supported route of travel, reasonably marked routes, enjoyment of the camaraderie which develops as one continues to mark the days with others' paces, and find yourself crossing paths.
I have great respect for those of us who undertake such an exercise with commitment and intention; mine however being much less clear.
It did however raise a question as to what this camino endeavor means and consists of. The camino is a process of putting one foot in front of the other at whatever pace you determine, and continue doing so until a specific goal / place is reached. The camino consists of a starting point and time, a passage of time in which questions of life are substantially reduced to cover health, food, shelter, weather, until one reaches the line in the sand, the goal.
Well, by gosh. This is really no less or more than what each of us does each day of our lives as we try to move consistently toward whatever the goal is - get a project done, meet deadlines, work on/build/strengthen relationships with friends, spouse, family. The blisters from walking are not much different from the resulting frictions that arise from living with others; both need to be tended to to ensure the problem reduces rather than increases in severity. The delight of sharing a meal at the end of the day with others you have spent the day walking and talking with, is not different from sharing the accomplishment of the day's goals with family, friends. The need for assistance from our travelling companions to help with blisters, advice etc, is no different from needing to ask for help with the problem immediately faced at home...
And then we get to do it all over again tomorrow! how hugely blessed we are to have those travelling with us to be a part of each of our lives, and we theirs.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Sept 3 Barcelos to seara (dave)
walking to our destination accommodation Residencial Pinheira Manso in Seara, short of the day's normal destination of Ponte de Lima because I didn't like a 30 km day.
long day for all - 27 Km -and thankfully again warm weather and clear skies- how sweet!
Laura and I had walked ahead of Wendy as she was feeling up to covering the last
distance to the day's goal. Got to the end of the road where we would normally turn right for another hour into Ponte de Lima; were surprised by a car pulling up asking if we were their guests and would we like a ride down the last 5 minutes walk?
Even though Laura's feet were sore and blistering, decided we would finish the day with integrity and walk it in. once checked in, I dropped my pack and walked back to the intersection where we had to make the choice to turn right into town on the Way or left to the accommodation. Walking back to meet Wendy I suddenly realized how easily I was able to walk after the day's trek of 27 km;
and realizing what a difference carrying a load makes, and what difference shedding a load makes.
Dave S was ambitious before his April walk of the same route, planning to loose 20 lbs to make up for what he anticipated he was going to carry. He ended up carrying much less, but made up for that by not loosing the weight - untiI getting sick in Lisbon from seafood rejection, and thereupon loosing 10 of his goal. One way to do it for sure!
I was intrigued by how accustomed I had become to carrying the 18 lbs (8+ KG) without thinking and without realizing how much easier movement was without it. I guess we all become accustomed to carrying loads of our own making and choosing, until we're ready to shed them.
Hmmm...
long day for all - 27 Km -and thankfully again warm weather and clear skies- how sweet!
Laura and I had walked ahead of Wendy as she was feeling up to covering the last
distance to the day's goal. Got to the end of the road where we would normally turn right for another hour into Ponte de Lima; were surprised by a car pulling up asking if we were their guests and would we like a ride down the last 5 minutes walk?
Even though Laura's feet were sore and blistering, decided we would finish the day with integrity and walk it in. once checked in, I dropped my pack and walked back to the intersection where we had to make the choice to turn right into town on the Way or left to the accommodation. Walking back to meet Wendy I suddenly realized how easily I was able to walk after the day's trek of 27 km;
and realizing what a difference carrying a load makes, and what difference shedding a load makes.
Dave S was ambitious before his April walk of the same route, planning to loose 20 lbs to make up for what he anticipated he was going to carry. He ended up carrying much less, but made up for that by not loosing the weight - untiI getting sick in Lisbon from seafood rejection, and thereupon loosing 10 of his goal. One way to do it for sure!
I was intrigued by how accustomed I had become to carrying the 18 lbs (8+ KG) without thinking and without realizing how much easier movement was without it. I guess we all become accustomed to carrying loads of our own making and choosing, until we're ready to shed them.
Hmmm...
Sept 4 Seara to Rubaies - or elsewhere (Dave)
Laura has already written about the traumatic day this was for her in her "Day ... I have no idea".
but what about my perspective and experience as her accompanying walker on that day...
I knew she was in some pain and dogging it as up to that point I suspect she was going on the basis of younger, stronger, better... and likely having a hard time lightly acknowledging her surprise at the old man generally keeping up, tagging slightly behind, moving ahead - a real tortoise and hare event!
I was thankful she decided to call it a day when she did as the remaining path took us generally straight up a 300 metre incline over old Roman roads - or at least over roads that were stabilized by cobblestones on uneven ground, uneven placing, uneven spacing, followed by the inevitable going down again - it would have been quite difficult for her in the going down especially, adding friction to surfaces that would really have objected.
When the offer for a ride popped out of the air and she took it, I continued on up the mountain myself. There were a few pilgrims ahead but they were younger and more intent and so lost sight of them. On the other hand, without Laura alongside I found my thoughts and attention wandering nowhere and anywhere - except on looking for the yellow signs of the path.
And how long was it before I recalled I hadn't seen any signs for perhaps 15 minutes, nor any people other than 2 cars that passed me (as I had unwittingly turned out on the road leading over the pass).
What to do when the signs hitherto relied on for pointing the way, confirming that you are still on the right road, eliminating the need for paying attention and effectively letting go of the map, seem to disappear, your phone battery is running thin so needs to be conserved in the event you really do need to call for help, virtually no one available to ask for direction even if it was possible to communicate in another language...
Back or forward, how far back do I need to go, carrying this pack, before I find my markers, remembering that I had been moving at a very respectable pace so meant likely retracing 2 km back and 2 forward again; or take a chance going forward into the great unknown (and in the absence of any actual road signs thus far) and maybe ending up in a different town altogether. Decided to go forward knowing the up had to become down sometime and somewhere end up in a town. Some distress texts sent off to at least allay concerns as to not showing up on time.
Which was just about the time I reached the top and found a monument pointing out I was on the Romana Atlantiqua which follows the roman roads through the region. Provided a great map of the trail and local area - but no, not possible to put a You R Here button nor did it identify the highway overpass under which I was standing.
An amusing and perplexing peculiarity of European roads is that unless its a highway toll road, signs are considered to be an aid to the enemy and consequently are not highly valued or put in place.
Their absence reminded me of the tale told us in Prague of the Russians invading in 1968 and taking up a fortified position at the top of Wenseslau promenade - in front of the national museum which they mistook for city hall. Street signs at that time had been removed, which in the absence of current technology, proved to be a significant slower-downer.
suffice to say with some further walking on the road, found rumours of one of the towns which I knew was in the right direction, and further down the hill. continued on till I found an almost toothless gentleman pulled up at an intersection who managed to communicate directions to the town next closest to the destination. followed my guess of the directions and discovered we had understood each other sufficiently to get me to a predictable point, whereupon texted W of the good news and ETA.
All of this to get me thinking along the way of lostness of the value of signs in our lives which we take for granted, ignore, respond to, misinterpret, miss altogether ... also reminded me of the Dead Dog Cafe's closing imprecation of "Stay calm, be brave, wait for the signs".
but what about my perspective and experience as her accompanying walker on that day...
I knew she was in some pain and dogging it as up to that point I suspect she was going on the basis of younger, stronger, better... and likely having a hard time lightly acknowledging her surprise at the old man generally keeping up, tagging slightly behind, moving ahead - a real tortoise and hare event!
I was thankful she decided to call it a day when she did as the remaining path took us generally straight up a 300 metre incline over old Roman roads - or at least over roads that were stabilized by cobblestones on uneven ground, uneven placing, uneven spacing, followed by the inevitable going down again - it would have been quite difficult for her in the going down especially, adding friction to surfaces that would really have objected.
When the offer for a ride popped out of the air and she took it, I continued on up the mountain myself. There were a few pilgrims ahead but they were younger and more intent and so lost sight of them. On the other hand, without Laura alongside I found my thoughts and attention wandering nowhere and anywhere - except on looking for the yellow signs of the path.
And how long was it before I recalled I hadn't seen any signs for perhaps 15 minutes, nor any people other than 2 cars that passed me (as I had unwittingly turned out on the road leading over the pass).
What to do when the signs hitherto relied on for pointing the way, confirming that you are still on the right road, eliminating the need for paying attention and effectively letting go of the map, seem to disappear, your phone battery is running thin so needs to be conserved in the event you really do need to call for help, virtually no one available to ask for direction even if it was possible to communicate in another language...
Back or forward, how far back do I need to go, carrying this pack, before I find my markers, remembering that I had been moving at a very respectable pace so meant likely retracing 2 km back and 2 forward again; or take a chance going forward into the great unknown (and in the absence of any actual road signs thus far) and maybe ending up in a different town altogether. Decided to go forward knowing the up had to become down sometime and somewhere end up in a town. Some distress texts sent off to at least allay concerns as to not showing up on time.
Which was just about the time I reached the top and found a monument pointing out I was on the Romana Atlantiqua which follows the roman roads through the region. Provided a great map of the trail and local area - but no, not possible to put a You R Here button nor did it identify the highway overpass under which I was standing.
An amusing and perplexing peculiarity of European roads is that unless its a highway toll road, signs are considered to be an aid to the enemy and consequently are not highly valued or put in place.
Their absence reminded me of the tale told us in Prague of the Russians invading in 1968 and taking up a fortified position at the top of Wenseslau promenade - in front of the national museum which they mistook for city hall. Street signs at that time had been removed, which in the absence of current technology, proved to be a significant slower-downer.
suffice to say with some further walking on the road, found rumours of one of the towns which I knew was in the right direction, and further down the hill. continued on till I found an almost toothless gentleman pulled up at an intersection who managed to communicate directions to the town next closest to the destination. followed my guess of the directions and discovered we had understood each other sufficiently to get me to a predictable point, whereupon texted W of the good news and ETA.
All of this to get me thinking along the way of lostness of the value of signs in our lives which we take for granted, ignore, respond to, misinterpret, miss altogether ... also reminded me of the Dead Dog Cafe's closing imprecation of "Stay calm, be brave, wait for the signs".
Sept 5 - Rubaies to Valenca - three graces
1. left the Alberque Constantino in Rubaies at a reasonable time to stop at the first café. L and I went up over the hill following the trail while W took the simpler route following the road. we met at the café for coffee and a breakfast before heading off.
Wendy's leg was being bothersome after the short downhill walk; Wendy had decided to catch a taxi to an interim point. As we were getting up to start off the daughter of the café owner came over, having overheard our discussion, and offered the service of her father to drop Wendy down the road approximately where she had been planning. As he was shortly heading that way it was no trouble and very pleased to be able to freely offer the assistance. At the drop off point, no money accepted though offered. Just a common courtesy offered to someone identified as needing assistance, so what else would you do!
2. Laura and I continued on up over hills, down lanes, through towns for the morning. we had chatted briefly with Alexis and Yolanta from Belgium along the way previously. As we descended into another small town, Alexis called up the hill for us to grab some oranges off the tree we were just passing. the tree was by itself in some resident's back yard; however Alexis being originally from Portugal and being a gently gregarious and curious person had chatted with some of the elderly women neighbours close by who had instructed him to grab some as well. Apparently the owners were away and not expected back until after the oranges had matured so the fruit was going to waste. Solution - Feed the pilgrims!
Laura and I chose some 6 from the tree, and smelled the real orange natural scent. Very delicious for the nose filling its sense of smell with that fresh tangy aroma which suggests there is more delight to come. packed most but cut into one which was so full of magnificent juice my mouth almost overflowed. Laura laughed at my sounds of delight coming through the full mouth of juice and orange - she observed it sounded just like the Wooky speaking.
3. it had been a hot day of walking, although hadn't yet covered 12 km - beautiful clear sky, mid 20's - and looked like it would be another hour at least before the next identified café was available; so one carries on. Only to be surprised by the presence of an alberque, the Quinta Estrada Romana, with lunch available out on the patio by the roadside. No traffic here as the road was getting down to a little more than a dirt track.
This is a recently added alberque owned and operated by a Canadian couple Leslie and Geof. Their goal is to become as self-sufficient and sustainable as they can, without doing away with the comforts they find necessary. When Leslie asked what we would like to eat, the automatic response is what's on menu. No menu here! Tell me what you want and we'll see what we can do. Laura was thrilled to not have to have another minimalist sandwich so asked for a salad. Leslie, using the tomatoes, onions and lettuce they grow added some tuna and cheese and presented us with a magnificent salad surprise.
Sunshine on the patio, quiet other than the birds and our chatting, no other guests at the time, it was easy to suddenly realize 2 hours had passed and the road still ahead. we discovered that both Leslie and Geoff had worked in Calgary at various times, Leslie's daughters still there, one of whom lives very close-by to Laura.
It was a wholly unexpected moment of rest in the middle of a day's trudge; warmth and gentleness and generosity of space, time and material things all with the intended purpose of helping us on this particular day and stage of our walk. A veritable oasis;
And just to affirm their commitment to being in this particular place at this particular time for their particular purpose, the lunch was donativo - whatever you want / can.
I recall observing myself being filled with a sense of utter contentment and well-being, letting a great inhaling of breath and exhaling of same be my word of wonder at the goodness there is in the world and, in contrast to the concurrent news of the plight of the refugees in Budapest, that I am so greatly blessed by all the surprise and unbiddenness of each of these different events; what's to say except thanks Dad.
Dave
Wendy's leg was being bothersome after the short downhill walk; Wendy had decided to catch a taxi to an interim point. As we were getting up to start off the daughter of the café owner came over, having overheard our discussion, and offered the service of her father to drop Wendy down the road approximately where she had been planning. As he was shortly heading that way it was no trouble and very pleased to be able to freely offer the assistance. At the drop off point, no money accepted though offered. Just a common courtesy offered to someone identified as needing assistance, so what else would you do!
2. Laura and I continued on up over hills, down lanes, through towns for the morning. we had chatted briefly with Alexis and Yolanta from Belgium along the way previously. As we descended into another small town, Alexis called up the hill for us to grab some oranges off the tree we were just passing. the tree was by itself in some resident's back yard; however Alexis being originally from Portugal and being a gently gregarious and curious person had chatted with some of the elderly women neighbours close by who had instructed him to grab some as well. Apparently the owners were away and not expected back until after the oranges had matured so the fruit was going to waste. Solution - Feed the pilgrims!
Laura and I chose some 6 from the tree, and smelled the real orange natural scent. Very delicious for the nose filling its sense of smell with that fresh tangy aroma which suggests there is more delight to come. packed most but cut into one which was so full of magnificent juice my mouth almost overflowed. Laura laughed at my sounds of delight coming through the full mouth of juice and orange - she observed it sounded just like the Wooky speaking.
3. it had been a hot day of walking, although hadn't yet covered 12 km - beautiful clear sky, mid 20's - and looked like it would be another hour at least before the next identified café was available; so one carries on. Only to be surprised by the presence of an alberque, the Quinta Estrada Romana, with lunch available out on the patio by the roadside. No traffic here as the road was getting down to a little more than a dirt track.
This is a recently added alberque owned and operated by a Canadian couple Leslie and Geof. Their goal is to become as self-sufficient and sustainable as they can, without doing away with the comforts they find necessary. When Leslie asked what we would like to eat, the automatic response is what's on menu. No menu here! Tell me what you want and we'll see what we can do. Laura was thrilled to not have to have another minimalist sandwich so asked for a salad. Leslie, using the tomatoes, onions and lettuce they grow added some tuna and cheese and presented us with a magnificent salad surprise.
Sunshine on the patio, quiet other than the birds and our chatting, no other guests at the time, it was easy to suddenly realize 2 hours had passed and the road still ahead. we discovered that both Leslie and Geoff had worked in Calgary at various times, Leslie's daughters still there, one of whom lives very close-by to Laura.
It was a wholly unexpected moment of rest in the middle of a day's trudge; warmth and gentleness and generosity of space, time and material things all with the intended purpose of helping us on this particular day and stage of our walk. A veritable oasis;
And just to affirm their commitment to being in this particular place at this particular time for their particular purpose, the lunch was donativo - whatever you want / can.
I recall observing myself being filled with a sense of utter contentment and well-being, letting a great inhaling of breath and exhaling of same be my word of wonder at the goodness there is in the world and, in contrast to the concurrent news of the plight of the refugees in Budapest, that I am so greatly blessed by all the surprise and unbiddenness of each of these different events; what's to say except thanks Dad.
Dave
Thursday, September 17, 2015
The last day
As I started my evening ritual of rolling back up my clothes, putting everything in it's place in my pack I started to feel, I don't want to say impending doom about the day coming up, that's far too dramatic, but almost like I was preparing for war. Whatever tomorrow brought, it would be hard. At first I thought it was the distance, 25km, but no, I've never been good with endings, I never let go very easily and I was just hitting my stride, just starting to gain what The Way had to offer me. Now I think about it, the last day was the beginning of another end in our journey, we got Graham to Santiago, no more distractions now, the next step would be a whole other form of letting go.
The morning started out on our side, we heard of a short cut the night before to pick up the way instead of back tracking just over a kilometer, which we found without difficulty. There was a fairly dense fog hanging over the land, which would later turn into a constant misting, but I wasn't complaining a bit as the blistering heat became a distant memory. The first stop we made was 6k in and it felt like dad and I were just flying, the initial mileage not even registering. Dad suggested we stop and I frankly had to do a double take and think to myself "Really?? Already??" But like I said we had already covered 6k. However the day did start to slow down, we met up with mom at some random place, she always tended to just pop up in our sight lines, but soon our paths diverged a bit. No matter how hard I tried I could never walk slower than my natural pace, so off I went assuming I would meet them for lunch at the next place. Of course when you are trying to coordinate 3 people nothing ever happens how you think it will, so I ended up doing most of the rest of the walk on my own. It was nice. Peaceful. I'm used to being on my own so that never bothered me, although I found I really started to enjoy my own company. Hey, I'm a delight! To be fair, I elected to take Graham that day and walk him into Santiago, so perhaps he was keeping me company a bit.
Finally I decided to stop and wait for my dad to catch up. We started this thing together, we should probably end it together too. We would walk the last 4/5k or so then meet up with mom to arrive at the cathedral all together. Just at the crest of a hill all of a sudden the city revealed itself. I couldn't see the Cathedral, but it was there lost in those twists and turns somewhere, so there I waited. I found a nice spot to sit and Graham and I just hung out until dad showed up. Talk about a charged time in your life. I was just to complete a 250km walk, I had Graham on my back, knowing we were about to scatter his ashes in a couple days, and to top it all off I was about to turn 30 in two days. So there I sat, for a long time, and just thought and felt. I won't lie, most was pretty painful. At some point my walking partner showed up, it was time to start the beginning of the end.
I constantly do this. I imagine how something is going to be and usually it is the exact opposite. Somewhere I head read the population of Santiago was about 70 000, not true! The city is huge! I had some vision of walking into somewhat of a town and all of a sudden, BEHOLD, the cathedral and everything revolving around it... Yeah, I know... Anyway, the final bit of the walk actually stressed me out a bit! We had to navigate around this huge city, with very few markers to indicate the way, going this way and that, stopping at traffic lights and fighting with traffic and business people. NOT my ideal version of ending this journey. Although, when we finally made it, true to European form, enormous monuments just appear out of nowhere, same for the Cathedral, turn a corner and BAM there it is! Along with that is the hundreds of stores cashing St James/Pilgrim/The Way paraphernalia, you know, just like in the old days... Anyway, entering into the square not only for yourself but with a constant steam of others is a huge privilege. Watching their expressions and reactions is a massive insight into what their journey may have been. Not only that, there is an energy of not only ecstatic joy but also of relief, despite all the vendors. For me, I retreated to the shade looking up at this massive edifice and said to myself "So, this is what I've been walking towards". Despite being half covered in scaffolding it really is quite impressive, even if you are not a "churchy" or "cathedraly" person like me. To have been in the square, shedding my boots and hobbling along in my flip flops, seeing the blister scars on other peoples feet, to know I have been part of something so much bigger than myself really is humbling. I feel an odd kinship to these people, to have shared our own defeats, failures and successes in the pursuit of a common goal, wow. I didn't know it at the time but I would experience the same emotion when we went to the Pilgrims mass the next day. I may not be a specifically religious person but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate it, and it was very heartening to see hundreds of people all in the same place for the same reason, appreciation, recognition of the experience.
Once we had taken in our fill we, of course, drank some sangria then headed to the apartment we had rented for the next 2 days. It was beautifully Ikea in all it's glory! Most importantly it was furnished with a bowl of chocolates and leftover ice cream bars from the previous renters, score! Dinner was lovely, the wine was lovely, but the whole night still seemed a bit surreal, I didn't have to set my alarm for the next day to get up and walk, it was over...
I think perhaps I will end my posts with the End of the World, Fisterra. It seemed only too appropriate to spend part of my 30th birthday at the end of the world with the mental state I was in. Lets just say I didn't take turning 30 well. At all. Even though the endpoint of Finisterre was slightly overrun with guides and tour buses, filled with people who had nothing to do with nor any idea of what a pilgrimage was, it still managed to maintain a sacred place. There are spots all over where pilgrims burn bits of clothing/boots/mementos they have carried from the beginning, so signify the end of their journey, to sit and reflect. So there I sat, on a rock at the end of the world. I sat for a very long time. So marking the close of one journey.
The morning started out on our side, we heard of a short cut the night before to pick up the way instead of back tracking just over a kilometer, which we found without difficulty. There was a fairly dense fog hanging over the land, which would later turn into a constant misting, but I wasn't complaining a bit as the blistering heat became a distant memory. The first stop we made was 6k in and it felt like dad and I were just flying, the initial mileage not even registering. Dad suggested we stop and I frankly had to do a double take and think to myself "Really?? Already??" But like I said we had already covered 6k. However the day did start to slow down, we met up with mom at some random place, she always tended to just pop up in our sight lines, but soon our paths diverged a bit. No matter how hard I tried I could never walk slower than my natural pace, so off I went assuming I would meet them for lunch at the next place. Of course when you are trying to coordinate 3 people nothing ever happens how you think it will, so I ended up doing most of the rest of the walk on my own. It was nice. Peaceful. I'm used to being on my own so that never bothered me, although I found I really started to enjoy my own company. Hey, I'm a delight! To be fair, I elected to take Graham that day and walk him into Santiago, so perhaps he was keeping me company a bit.
Finally I decided to stop and wait for my dad to catch up. We started this thing together, we should probably end it together too. We would walk the last 4/5k or so then meet up with mom to arrive at the cathedral all together. Just at the crest of a hill all of a sudden the city revealed itself. I couldn't see the Cathedral, but it was there lost in those twists and turns somewhere, so there I waited. I found a nice spot to sit and Graham and I just hung out until dad showed up. Talk about a charged time in your life. I was just to complete a 250km walk, I had Graham on my back, knowing we were about to scatter his ashes in a couple days, and to top it all off I was about to turn 30 in two days. So there I sat, for a long time, and just thought and felt. I won't lie, most was pretty painful. At some point my walking partner showed up, it was time to start the beginning of the end.
I constantly do this. I imagine how something is going to be and usually it is the exact opposite. Somewhere I head read the population of Santiago was about 70 000, not true! The city is huge! I had some vision of walking into somewhat of a town and all of a sudden, BEHOLD, the cathedral and everything revolving around it... Yeah, I know... Anyway, the final bit of the walk actually stressed me out a bit! We had to navigate around this huge city, with very few markers to indicate the way, going this way and that, stopping at traffic lights and fighting with traffic and business people. NOT my ideal version of ending this journey. Although, when we finally made it, true to European form, enormous monuments just appear out of nowhere, same for the Cathedral, turn a corner and BAM there it is! Along with that is the hundreds of stores cashing St James/Pilgrim/The Way paraphernalia, you know, just like in the old days... Anyway, entering into the square not only for yourself but with a constant steam of others is a huge privilege. Watching their expressions and reactions is a massive insight into what their journey may have been. Not only that, there is an energy of not only ecstatic joy but also of relief, despite all the vendors. For me, I retreated to the shade looking up at this massive edifice and said to myself "So, this is what I've been walking towards". Despite being half covered in scaffolding it really is quite impressive, even if you are not a "churchy" or "cathedraly" person like me. To have been in the square, shedding my boots and hobbling along in my flip flops, seeing the blister scars on other peoples feet, to know I have been part of something so much bigger than myself really is humbling. I feel an odd kinship to these people, to have shared our own defeats, failures and successes in the pursuit of a common goal, wow. I didn't know it at the time but I would experience the same emotion when we went to the Pilgrims mass the next day. I may not be a specifically religious person but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate it, and it was very heartening to see hundreds of people all in the same place for the same reason, appreciation, recognition of the experience.
Once we had taken in our fill we, of course, drank some sangria then headed to the apartment we had rented for the next 2 days. It was beautifully Ikea in all it's glory! Most importantly it was furnished with a bowl of chocolates and leftover ice cream bars from the previous renters, score! Dinner was lovely, the wine was lovely, but the whole night still seemed a bit surreal, I didn't have to set my alarm for the next day to get up and walk, it was over...
I think perhaps I will end my posts with the End of the World, Fisterra. It seemed only too appropriate to spend part of my 30th birthday at the end of the world with the mental state I was in. Lets just say I didn't take turning 30 well. At all. Even though the endpoint of Finisterre was slightly overrun with guides and tour buses, filled with people who had nothing to do with nor any idea of what a pilgrimage was, it still managed to maintain a sacred place. There are spots all over where pilgrims burn bits of clothing/boots/mementos they have carried from the beginning, so signify the end of their journey, to sit and reflect. So there I sat, on a rock at the end of the world. I sat for a very long time. So marking the close of one journey.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Sept. 15 Yes! We are still out here!
And by out here, it is literal! We are about 1700 Kms directly West of Lisbon. Terceira is a volcanic island about 19 Kms across. Settled around 1450 by a Flemish captain Jaome de Bruges, an associate of Prince Henry the Navigator who is still a big name throughout Spain and Portugal! It was an important base in both World Wars and continues to have a NATO and US presence. The main city, Angra do Heroismo, is busy with people, cars and business. I'm always struck by island life - here we are in this tiny place and everything is as it is everywhere else in the world.
We arrived last night after quite a day! We rally for breakfast at the hotel in Fisterre. Fisterre, the end of the world and the second official end of each Camino. We pile into the car and set off for Lisbon to catch the plane. Only two turn arounds to get us past Santiago and onto the Autopista 9 to Pontevedra. This is like two years ago when we drove back the entire 800 Kms in one day arriving at the airport with 5 minutes to spare! Today we only have about 6 hours of driving to reach Lisbon by 4:30. Dave is in his driving element as we whiz past the 120 signs which seem to be merely a suggestion to the locals who whiz by us!
Lots of familiar names go by - Caldas de Reis, Porrino, Tui, Ponte de Lima, Barcelos. We stop for lunch and we are back in Portugal - Dave's plate of veal comes with potatoes and rice!
The now A3 is a toll highway. Sometimes you throw money in the bucket and sometimes you get a ticket which you insert at the next booth. Now in Portugal, there is a lovely tempting lane with a green sign with a white check mark. Fine, we'll pay at the end. And we paid! Just after entering Lisbon - your ticket is no good, you must have another ticket - no, we don't have another ticket - I must charge you from the border, 42.50 euros please! I read the back of the ticket which tells me, if my ticket is lost or, if you are lazy and don't find out what the words meant under the white check mark which is actually a stylized V for a Via Verde pass, by law, they are allowed to charge you double! It's only money and we are contributing to the fine state of the Auopista!!
We arrive almost exactly at 4:30. The approach to the airport was simple and the self serve check in kiosk elicits none of the groans and frustration of the Calgary version. Off to the baggage drop.
The young man at the baggage drop points out that - for next time - there is a dedicated spot with no line ups for business class customers. Business class? Yes, your boarding pass is executive and you are welcome to wait at the lounge. You mean the gate? No, no the Blue Lounge on your left just before gate 7. Well, thank you RBC Rewards, I had no idea what I'd booked!
Laura and I head off to security where Dave suddenly realizes he has forgotten his Swiss army knife in his carry on. He's going back to the check in to see what can be done. The Blue Lounge is quiet and inviting! Laura's question is, We can just help ourselves to everything up there!? Why yes, go right ahead! Alcohol, snacks, water etc. I may have to book tickets with RBC Rewards online at 11:00 at night when the brain was shutting down more often! Dave arrives without his carry on - it has been checked through at no extra charge - hopefully, without incident to the precious cargo.
We are directed to the front of the boarding line; get settled in our seats and finally, the plane is off directly West over the Atlantic. All the usual announcements and the food service begins. A full meal with glassware and real cutlery (isn't this knife a weapon?) and warm rolls out of a basket! I could definitely get used to this and Laura will expect this kind of travel with her parents from now on!
Next on the agenda was a rental car. The VRBO owner has sent a taxi having not received our message about deciding to rent a car. Pay off the poor driver who has come all this way; get through all the paperwork and one of the rear signal lights does not work. OK, we'll change cars tomorrow. By this time, it is dark but we set off to the other side of the island. We get into the downtown area of Angra and cannot find the signs to Sao Mateus. Finally, I call Patrizia who sends someone, we still haven't clarified who he was, to come find us and lead us out to the house.
They are still in the process of making and serving pizza - that was the other sign we were to look for. We are well met with kisses and handshakes and Constantino insisting on sit, sit for wine. And you must have this pizza - it's light, you will sleep better. Fine, we give in to red wine from the box, white wine locally made and the best pizza we've had in a very long time! A wonderful end to a very long, full day.
Boa noite!
We arrived last night after quite a day! We rally for breakfast at the hotel in Fisterre. Fisterre, the end of the world and the second official end of each Camino. We pile into the car and set off for Lisbon to catch the plane. Only two turn arounds to get us past Santiago and onto the Autopista 9 to Pontevedra. This is like two years ago when we drove back the entire 800 Kms in one day arriving at the airport with 5 minutes to spare! Today we only have about 6 hours of driving to reach Lisbon by 4:30. Dave is in his driving element as we whiz past the 120 signs which seem to be merely a suggestion to the locals who whiz by us!
Lots of familiar names go by - Caldas de Reis, Porrino, Tui, Ponte de Lima, Barcelos. We stop for lunch and we are back in Portugal - Dave's plate of veal comes with potatoes and rice!
The now A3 is a toll highway. Sometimes you throw money in the bucket and sometimes you get a ticket which you insert at the next booth. Now in Portugal, there is a lovely tempting lane with a green sign with a white check mark. Fine, we'll pay at the end. And we paid! Just after entering Lisbon - your ticket is no good, you must have another ticket - no, we don't have another ticket - I must charge you from the border, 42.50 euros please! I read the back of the ticket which tells me, if my ticket is lost or, if you are lazy and don't find out what the words meant under the white check mark which is actually a stylized V for a Via Verde pass, by law, they are allowed to charge you double! It's only money and we are contributing to the fine state of the Auopista!!
We arrive almost exactly at 4:30. The approach to the airport was simple and the self serve check in kiosk elicits none of the groans and frustration of the Calgary version. Off to the baggage drop.
The young man at the baggage drop points out that - for next time - there is a dedicated spot with no line ups for business class customers. Business class? Yes, your boarding pass is executive and you are welcome to wait at the lounge. You mean the gate? No, no the Blue Lounge on your left just before gate 7. Well, thank you RBC Rewards, I had no idea what I'd booked!
Laura and I head off to security where Dave suddenly realizes he has forgotten his Swiss army knife in his carry on. He's going back to the check in to see what can be done. The Blue Lounge is quiet and inviting! Laura's question is, We can just help ourselves to everything up there!? Why yes, go right ahead! Alcohol, snacks, water etc. I may have to book tickets with RBC Rewards online at 11:00 at night when the brain was shutting down more often! Dave arrives without his carry on - it has been checked through at no extra charge - hopefully, without incident to the precious cargo.
We are directed to the front of the boarding line; get settled in our seats and finally, the plane is off directly West over the Atlantic. All the usual announcements and the food service begins. A full meal with glassware and real cutlery (isn't this knife a weapon?) and warm rolls out of a basket! I could definitely get used to this and Laura will expect this kind of travel with her parents from now on!
Next on the agenda was a rental car. The VRBO owner has sent a taxi having not received our message about deciding to rent a car. Pay off the poor driver who has come all this way; get through all the paperwork and one of the rear signal lights does not work. OK, we'll change cars tomorrow. By this time, it is dark but we set off to the other side of the island. We get into the downtown area of Angra and cannot find the signs to Sao Mateus. Finally, I call Patrizia who sends someone, we still haven't clarified who he was, to come find us and lead us out to the house.
They are still in the process of making and serving pizza - that was the other sign we were to look for. We are well met with kisses and handshakes and Constantino insisting on sit, sit for wine. And you must have this pizza - it's light, you will sleep better. Fine, we give in to red wine from the box, white wine locally made and the best pizza we've had in a very long time! A wonderful end to a very long, full day.
Boa noite!
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