Yesterday was my last walking day. It was a difficult day. I wanted to walk alone but the night before the hospitalero had pointed out that a man who was very quiet at the table was also going to Santiago, as if to say, you have a walking buddy. What was even funnier was there was only one other person sharing my room and I had assumed it was a woman but lo and behold when bedtime rolled around it was the quiet man.
The quiet man spoke a little English. More English than I speak Spanish. Though I have improved by default. We figured out when the lights were going out. When he was getting up. Whether the windows were going to be opened or closed. And whether the door was going to be opened or closed. Whew!! Sleep come on!! Like sweetness!! I had walked 30 miles and taken a hard fall! I was exhausted and now trying to communicate in a language I wasn't fluent, barely capable of the basics. I can only imagine how he felt.
I forgot to set my alarm and overslept. I heard rattling in the other room, people fixing their self-serve breakfast? And my roommate started moving so I put on my glasses and it was 6:30. Oh no. I had meant to be on road by now. Oh well, I guess I needed the sleep and besides I only had 13 miles to walk. And my albergue was on the Santiago side of Negeira. Relax, it will be fine, I told myself.
I packed my bags. Went to the bathroom. Ate breakfast. Brushed my teeth. And started out the door wishing those left eating breakfast at the albergue a "buen camino".
It was was a beautiful morning. And I had a song in my heart and on my lips.
O Lord, with your eyes you have searched me,
And while smiling have called out my name;
My boat's left on the shoreline behind me
Now with you I will seek other seas...
I remember some of the verses but the chorus just kept coming back to me. I sang it quietly, I sang it out loud, I whistled it, I hummed it. I was listening deeply this last day of walking.
As I got to the top of a hill there were two different and conflicting sets of arrows. One pointed straight which is what I thought but the other pointed left. But the shell marking was left. Dang it here we go again. So I took the left just a ways just to make sure. I went about a block and figured it was wrong. So I turned around. I saw a guy working and said, "Santiago?" And pointed the way I thought I ought to be going. He just slowly smiled a devilish smile and finally shook his head and said, "si!" Ugh! I thought. This last day of the Camino IS going to be my most difficult day. Of course it is. So I turned around. And as I reached the corner there was the quiet man. I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, "oops I took the wrong road!" He smiled and followed me on the right one.
We walked along me in front the quiet man behind. I would stop at a fork in the road get my bearings and then see the correct marking look back at him as if for confirmation and a simple nod from him and on we would go. At one point though we both stopped. It was not obvious. We went up on the road. Down another path. Back and forth. Looked for pilgrim footprints going to Finisterra. And then took a chance. We walked along and introduced ourselves. Me asking in Spanish, "what is you name?" Jose. I am Debora. And we walked together. Often me walking ahead. We stopped several times at coffee bars for water and just to rest. We even stopped for what the Hobbits would call a second breakfast. And then we walked. Sometimes Jose pointing out that I needed to come back to the way. Occasionally he would do this and I was on the right way and he was mistaken.
This is how it is in life. We help each other. Strangers become friends. Community is formed as a common purpose is realized. And language is worked through because of that common purpose and community and food are shared.
As we got to the top of the hill before Santiago we saw this view:
Jose asked for a photo of himself with Santiago. He had asked for several pictures of himself. I had hoped that there had been others to take pictures of him along the way. Always when he asked for me to take a picture he would ask me, "Debora, do you prefer I take a photo of you with your camera with this scenery?" It was very nice.
I had reached the hill with the view of Santiago before he did. And my feet were tired. I was hot. And I was ready to get a shower and rest. I had come so close and could not stop now. Jose declared, "I'm tired!" I think that meant I'm going to rest a bit.
I said, "I must keep going." I showed him we had more than the 1 kilometro he thought to go and wished him a buen Camino. Thanked him. Hugged him. And headed out.
As I reached the park in Santiago that I recognized tears just poured from my eyes. I had no control. I can't really express the joy, exhaustion, humility, beauty, gratitude, love for so many, community, the memories, and so many other things that I don't have words for.
I cried all the way to the cathedral. Just stood there for a bit and listened to the bagpipes and other pilgrims; the many languages and watched people. The whole walk in from the park is a climb up and I noticed a lot of people staring at me. But I just smiled through my tears and said hello/hola interchangeably I was so happy, so overwhelmed.
And then I made my video and headed to the albergue.
The last three days of walking truly were the most difficult. I am thankful for that. It is in the difficult days of the Camino that I am reminded of what so many people deal with in life. And so much of what I will be faced with when I return home. The peace of life on the Camino will be interrupted by the distractions and temptations of normal life. Just like it was when the signs were not clear and I wandered a bit seeing more than some pilgrims and perhaps logging more miles and learning lessons. It will be easy to miss the signs and get off of the path if one is not careful. It is easy to lose a sense of community if you choose not to listen and hear or work on language and have a common purpose and goal or just shut yourself off.
Of course there is more but that is probably enough for now of how I found grace in few difficult days.
