What does a "real pilgrim" look like?

You've heard me lament the joys of the Camino and also the hardships. Sometimes it's hard to imagine that a person (me) willingly gives up some of the finer things in life, to go in search of ... something else.

The finer things being, in this case:

• Gentle face wash and cloth - replaced by bar soap, that doubles as laundry soap and also washes anything else that crosses the (gradually moving) line of "dirty".
• Shampoo - Honestly I had a 2-in-1 with me, but lost attachment to using it when the showers were not hot, not long enough or lacked the ambiance that made them feel in any way luxurious! Eh... I washed my hair every 2-3 days and used a Buff to try and hide this laziness in between.
• Hairbrush. I used one every other day or so and don't remember missing it too much after a while.
• Mirror. If the selfie function on my camera doesn't count, I went for days without seeing myself as others did - but I still had friends! I think the albergue's don't hang mirrors on purpose, to keep the turnover in the bathrooms going smoothly.
• Outfits that didn't consist of the green t-shirt or the black t-shirt.
• It goes without saying there was not a drop of make-up in my pack, right?

So in reality, what does a tired, 42 year old woman look like, when she enthusiastically lets go of attachment to self image? 

Well, one day in the last week (3+ weeks of hiking under my increasingly smaller belt), I came upon an American guy in a small village, taking professional black and white pics of pilgrims. For a small fee he took your picture "as is" in his little studio off the side of a cafe. 

The rules were simple; You walk in and have the portrait shot, without fixing yourself up in the bathroom, taking off your pack, putting down your sticks or pretending to be something you weren't. In return, he emails you a picture of yourself a few days later - long after you are able to remember where you met him, or can reach him with that hiking stick!

All I can say is, I was super glad I was not the dude who hiked without his teeth in, because that was indeed honestly portrayed in his picture!

Day 36: Goodbye Santiago. Goodbye Camino

How did I spent my last day in Santiago? I'm so glad you asked!

I started the day with my last Camino miracle.  Having lost Alan's business card sometime in the last week, I had been unable to contact him and instead was relying on the universe to provide.  He was the last goodbye left on my list and while it was a given that he'd arrive in Santiago this week, it was not a given that I'd simply run until him.  Santiago is a vibrant, bustling city, filled with albergues, pensions and hotels. The streets are narrow and winding and honestly it had taken me 3+ days to figure out how to get from pension to dinner and back in the dark. Squirrely doesn't even begin to describe it.

And then it happened.  9am Saturday morning I got an email from him and just like that, we were in touch again.  My last lunch date was going to be the guy that was also my first lunch date on September 24th, in Orisson!!!

I joined an English speaking walking tour of Santiago at 11am. Our guide, Juan, was awesome. Charismatic, funny, thoroughly knowledgeable. This was my chance to turn the stories I had heard into actual knowledge.  Did Saint James actually come to Santiago before his death?

We started at Praza do Obradoiro, the square in front of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compestela. We were surrounded on all sides by the 4 powers. The religious power in front of us with the Cathedral, on its right, the intellectual power of the University of Santiago de Compostela. behind me, the government building with the Mayor's office and on the other side, the Parador - tourist dollars are very powerful!

Corelia and Mirusia: These two sisters were real...They took a walk in Alameda Park together at 2pm every day. They came from a family of anarchists and many were killed. Only 3 sisters remained and they never married. It was the 50's, 60's and 70's and at that time, the general population wore bland, dark colors. But not these ladies. Never. There were well known and well liked. Mirusia (in blue) had a reputation for being impish and teased men. She died in 1983. Her sister, Corelia (in red) was shy and died just a few days after Mirusia. The sisters were loved and protected by the Compostelians. 

Views from Alameda Park

A 140 year old eucalyptus tree!

 

Shopping at the Santiago markets.

And the narrowest street in Santiago... Just 80cm wide at one end.

What else did I learn on the walking tour?

The legend of Saint James:
James, brother of John, was one of the 12 apostles. Jesus told his apostles to go forth to the ends of the earth and evangelize/spread the word. James came to Finisterre... the end of the earth as they knew it. He was called back to Jerusalem when Mary, mother to Jesus, was close to the end of her life. In Jerusalem, King Herod had him killed. Decapitated. The remains of James were taken by boat to Spain in the 1st century and arrived at the Atlantic coast just 21km from where the remains rest today. They carried him through the forest and left him. It wasn't until the 8th century when a monk discovered the remains of Saint James, called the Bishop and started the process that birthed Santiago de Compostela and the cathedral that is built over the remains today. Pilgrimages began! Alfonso II was the first pilgrim, but he didn't walk the route I did. He walked what is today known as "the primitive way".

The botafumeiro: You might remember I blogged about the giant incense ball a couple of days ago. Here is the scoop... The original botafumeiro was silver. During some conquering through time, it was stolen and never recovered. The botafumeiro that we see today is 1.60m high and weighs 70kg. Actually 100kg when full of incense. At full swing, going north to south, it reaches 70km/hour and puffs incense through the church to disguise the smell of stinky pilgrims! It costs 450 Euro per Mass to swing it.It takes 7 people to launch and swing it.  (7 is a holy number... 7 gates to the city, 7 hills around the city etc.)

So, the question on everyone's mind when they see that thing swinging is, has it ever come undone and flown out of control into the crowd? Yep! 3x - rumor, not published. And the result was the death of the people it hit, not surprisingly. Can anyone say "Free ticket to heaven and a seat beside St James"?!

I had a delightful lunch with Alan, we chatted about stories of the Camino and reminisced about our first meeting. It seemed a lifetime ago. Then I headed to the park to spend the last few hours of my time in Santiago, in quiet reflection. Two minutes passed before my eyes welled up and anxiety crept over me. There was shortness of breath. I called Mark. I can always breathe better when we talk.

Abba was playing in my head:  "Can you hear the drums Fernando?" (I don't think Abba has stopped playing in my head since the Finisterre tour!)

I had been traveling 6 weeks today and part of me fears I may have have forgotten how to be "normal". Weird, right? Especially since I've traveled 2-3x as long as this in my past. I'm older, have a greater attachment to things outside of travel than I used to and essentially, the Camino is different. The highs are high because the challenges really force you to recognize what you have, had, or miss.... The spread between the highs and lows are what make each so intense. The bonds between Camino friends are born out of reliance on and the assistance of, others. They form stronger and more quickly, and the pain of saying goodbye is akin to pulling Compeed off a blister!

Goodbye Santiago. 

You have exceeded expectations and left a permanent smile on my face. 

Goodbye Camino. 

You have both strengthened and broken my heart. 

Caused me to look inside and broadened my view outside. 

Almost defeated me, then healed me. 

You made me cough up some courage and asked me to check my ego at the Pyrenees; 

Reminded me that my boots were made for walking.

 Hasta Luego

Day 35: Final touches on my transformation back to"real life"

I am a Pilgrim.  Despite the shower and hair dryer, I still look like one too. My Pilgrim uniform is worn out.  Both t-shirts, good quality merino wool, have stood the test of time, hand washing, pack-wearing and overuse. Now they feature holes in identical places... In the middle of my back, thanks to a bra strap and at the front, where the pack clips together on the hip strap.

The shirts and the bra both meet their end in the trash bin of my room this morning. Next stop: shopping!  Not going to lie to you, I was looking forward to this for quite some time.

First I perused the stores inside the old city, then I ventured to the outside, where the Santiago residents might go.

By the early afternoon the only part of my outfit left from the Camino, was my underwear. Yay me! New bra, shirt, scarf, jeans and shoes.  New earrings too. Hahaha.

I felt less pilgrimy and, no big surprise, was being treated like a tourist who smells like shampoo and US dollars.  Uh-huh... better service (with a smile) from waiters and store owners!

Case in point, I went back to my favorite restaurant for lunch.  3rd time in 4 days. This time I got lots of smiles, quick service and generous explanations of menu items - in English! At the end of the meal I was served coffee and cake (normal) then treated to chocolate olives.  Of course they probably have a different name, but they were slightly sweet, coco-ish, vinegary, salty, olivey things with the faint odor of Pilgrim boots, IMHO. Not bad.  Not really my cup of tea though - and I'm almost partial to Pilgrim boots at this point.

Don't get me wrong., I'm grateful for the fantastic meal and service. Just noticing that either the waiter had LOTS of compassion for my "solo" status, or the pearl earrings and fancy-pants shoes, warranted the extra attention.

Check out the dinner:

Day 34: Getting Closure in Santiago

So, I walked into Santiago 2 days ago, stared out to the end of the earth in Finisterre yesterday and today hoped to watch them (in the cathedral) swing the flaming incense in the botafumeiro at mass.

Weirdly, all of this is what I need to close out my Camino... complete. Nope, not even catholic! And since I don't understand much Spanish, I don't get much of the sermon either.  But I get the gist of it... I know when pilgrims are being welcomed, recognised and blessed.  And you don't need to be catholic or Spanish to feel the overwhelming intensity of 5 guys hoisting the botafumeiro into the air and sending it flying over our heads. I viewed the fire inside and inhaled the sweet mild incense smell.

Ahhhh.... that, my friends, was the smell of the end of this journey. And the beginning of another journey, as a wise friend reminded me.

Day 33: Bus Tour to Muxia and Finisterre

And just like that, overnight Pierre and I became "bocadillos".

What's a bocadillo? Actually it's Spanish for sandwich and has been the nickname we gave to pilgrims who transported their luggage everyday, then walked with a tiny wee backpack.  All it seemed to contain was, you guessed it... a sandwich.

Today that was us!

We left everything in the albergue except the tiny backpack.  Inside was a light jacket, some money, the camera phone and chapstick.  The luxury tour bus left Santiago at 9am and our first stop was Muxia, at 10am. Definitely quicker than walking (4 days). Definitely.

Muxia is an unspoilt little village, tucked into a cove on the Atlantic shore. Every other person is a fisherman and the bay is dotted with sail boats.  The coast is rugged and rocky. Strong winds and storms deemed a little magical by the superstitious celtic folk, are frequent. The pagan settlers had handmade boats and legend has it that this place, rather than Finisterre, was the end of the world. If you sailed too far, you fell off the edge of our flat earth!

Muxia smells fresh, clean, oceanic! The road to and from, is winding, green, scenic. It doesn't feel well traveled. The village remains, to this day, primarily a fishing village.  Unspoiled, picturesque, quintessentially Spanish costal in flavor. 

The next stop was Cape Finisterre (in Galician they call it Fisterra). For Pilgrims who go further than Santiago, this is considered the end of the line... finished.  The cape is about 3km out of Finisterre town itself.  All uphill. Of course there is a stamp to be had here too and I'm still not feeling guilty that bus deposited me 100 yards from said stamp! I've put in my miles. 

From here, there are panoramic views looking out to sea and back to Finisterre. 

What is that I see? The Greek brothers, Konstantin and Danis, and Samantha! These three have been crossing paths with me for weeks and it feels good to visit with them one last time. 

And now Finisterre.  Holy crap! I stepped into a picture postcard! Stunning colors, quaint and perfect in its simplicity... smelling just like you'd expect a coastal village on the Atlantic should.  Forging distinct, wonderful, surreal memories that I hope will last to the end of my days. 

Some things I always knew would signify closure to my Camino... walking into Santiago, watching the Botafumeiro (swinging incense urn) and the feeling that Finisterre promised me in my dreams. 

I'm almost ready to go home. To reclaim my wonderful life and infuse it with the sweet gratitude and sun-filled memories of beautiful souls and magical places I have found in France and Spain this year.