Camino 2016 05/27 - Walking Apart, Walking Together

Our lives are so full of transitions. We walk together briefly but at some point we must walk our own separate ways. People come and go, whether we want them to or not. Jobs change, comforts ebb and flow, and healthiness rises and falls like the tide.

I think of relatives and friends we've lost this year, as well as those of years past. Or the prayers and visits we make to those fighting to continue today. 

The Camino I realized shows many transitions within the course of days. It feels longer to me because of the walking, but in truth it happens quickly. Transitions happen sometimes so suddenly that we actually don't have time to process it. I think that's what's happening to me. Our boots never rest, though we think they've been sitting around long enough to sprout flowers.

A week ago I was in Lourdes and walked an absurd distance over flat lands. Then heat and hills came. Then a Pyrnees hailstorm. Then forest. Then hilly villages. Now the starting of the Meseta plains. All in just over a week.

And through those walks, people have come and gone, some faster, some slower. Cuisine actually keeps changing as well, and also not just accent or dialect but actual language. My health improved then lagged and also follows unpredictable changes. The sun shines; it rains. Sometimes concurrently.

I've had to accept these things though in order to do so I must recognize I must yield to the Camino. If blisters slow me down then I have to figure out what to do about it. So yesterday, after seeing the infamous wine fountain, after the lovely walk with Ed, Will, and Johnny from the UK, and after some chatting with the Swiss couple Timmon and Luna at Los Arcos, I grabbed a bus down the hills to Logroño. It'll give me an extra day to walk shorter distances and I give more time for the blisters to melt away.

I met briefly in front of the Cathedral a fellow who has followed my journey. Andy  Perry left Paris two weeks ago, met up with Kathy in Bordeaux, and - knowing I left from Lourdes - knew we would cross paths soon. We chatted and wished each other Buen Camino as we continued on to enjoy this lovely and fun city.

I wonder who I will encounter next, as transitions continue, and our paths briefly cross, our footsteps briefly in sync.

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Camino 2016 05/26 - May the rain fall softly on your fields

Village after village came and went on Thursday, scarcely exhilarating, with some history, probably in a state of economic predictability. Yet what connected these various villages were fields and crops, people and families.

As I trudged up the frustratingly vertical town of Cirauqui, I couldn't help but notice how friendly the locals were. Some were toiling on the farms, but the seniors watching over the little ones were glad to point out the local market or to wish you a Buen Camino.

When the day finally ended at Estella, with several beautiful churches and royal heritage, I found that the most intimately religious thing I could do was stay out with the people. I chatted with a shop keeper as I tried to decide which helado (ice cream) and lunch sausage wanted. Then I decided that sitting in the plaza mayor was to fun to go eat inside.

So I sat with a large mixed salad and a meat and fries dish - we are in Spain after all - and watched as kids, teens, parents and seniors interacted. I laughed as a tough muscle guy looked hopeless and hapless as his toddler boy had a meltdown and his wife was busy with a newborn; a passing senior looked down at the boy, blew a whistle, and said that he must not lie down in the street or he will attract the attention of police. 

It was a small community that felt comfortable with itself and could exist timelessly. The rain fell softly on its fields, and they grew a friendly, family oriented society that shook hands when they met in the streets.

May the rain fall softly on your fields, in ways of gentle nourishment .

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Camino 2016 05/25 - Alto Del Perdòn

There's something liberating about giving yourself permission to heal yourself, to be frail, to be human. The weight of trying to accomplish a goal, succeed, meet your goals burdens you and doesn't give you the time to mend those broken tissues, wounds, and hurts. Some things can't be forced and just take time.

And yourself permission is often similar to forgiving yourself of not meeting your own expectations. You might feel that you've let yourself or others down. And you need to forgive yourself for doing so. Until you do, you carry the feeling that you aren't really healed.

So goes carrying your world on your shoulders while you're in pain. Something must give. You can press on and endure your unhealthy condition, possibly making it worse. Your body might rebel until you are forced to stop completely. You may slowly and unknowingly reduce your capacity, a machine that becomes ever less efficient until it's not useful any more.

Pilgrimage on foot offers a good reminder    that physical weight isn't different from emotional and social weight. Leave the weight behind, carry less, and each step feels better. Cumulatively over the course of many miles, you feel the benefits in less wear and tear. So you look through your pack, almost daily, wondering if you need to jettison this or that. If only we did that in our lives as often or effectively.

Is this rent or mortgage worth the weight? The emotional scarring from a bad job or dysfunctional relationships? Do we constantly say there are no choices?

I'm so thankful that I've been using a transport service. Since I started walking just over a week ago, I've had to shed much. Detergent for laundry? Yes I have permission to leave it. Shampoo? Likewise. A souvenir? Take a weightless photo and say goodbye. And using a service to carry the backpack while I use the day pack has lightened me enough to feel better about my hip and to set limits on my expectations.

The planned rest days to do some tourism? I need the time more to reduce my daily average and speed. So I'll be ditching those days and walk more realistic distances until, or even if I can, return to prior expectations.

And that forgiveness gave me joy today. I was able to walk with not the day pack (1/3 of my weight) but with the backpack. I instead used the transport service to send the daypack ahead, filled with my nightly needs not things I need on the road.

And I made it up to the peak of a hill Alto Del Perdòn. I stopped more, and enjoyed more. It's that hill in the movie The Way that has flattened statues and wind mills. And it felt awesome. 

I left later, ate the included breakfast offered by the albergue, and walked with Alix. But at the first town, 6km away, she had to take the bus back because she left her medications at the albergue. I too couldn't find my blood pressure medicine, which is what got her to notice that she lost hers.  We parted and I continued. 

Soon I caught up with Diane and Claude. She got new shoes and all sorts of paraphernalia for her blister. We sat at a lake and breathed in some beauty and rest. We drew a crowd and soon it was a multi-ethnic beach party.

They went ahead but I caught them at the last village before the peak, checking in. I got a Coke Zero and enjoyed the bright sun. What a change from the hail just a few days earlier! While sitting, I found Alix's traveling companions, Alice and Lin, and told them what Alix had to do. I met Janelle of Reno/East bay and did her study abroad in San Sebastián, who as it turns out was sitting behind me at the restaurant last night. And met Mike from Long Island.

I continued up the hill and got to the statues. I was just here in Spetember with mom and dad but it felt different. I felt liberated of my pains. I went slower but I still got here with most of my pack.

After a light sandwich lunch, I found my meds in a side pocket and I worked my way down the very rocky and steep path towards my destination Puente La Reina. Most of the afternoon was alone in gorgeous fields. I'm not sure if it was the allergies or the sunshine but I started to weep with happiness. I noticed that the heat made me thirsty so I refilled my water and the icy water felt wonderful.

It felt so good to not be limping today. Lord, if only we can give that joy to all who limp.  

The last few kilometers I walked with Lucy from Brazil. In broken Spanish, English, and French we walked and talked about her job loss and taking the opportunity to finally live out her three decade dream of doing the Camino.

I got to my albergue, Jakue, on the outskirts of town. We said au revoir. I realized my camel started to leak and I'll have to sleep on a wet bed, so I'll need to find a replacement water system. After a quick laundry wash, I rested then went into town. The old Roman bridge was quite impressive. I then went into the Santiago church and joined the evening Rosario (daily rosary service). 

Afterwards, I ate the most since leaving home. The albergue offered a buffet and I had a large salad with egg, asparagus, etc followed by a warm appetizer plate of some pasta dish with cauliflower and a pasta dish with clams and shrimp. I chose a served main plate do roast chicken and of course it had fries. By this time I was running out of steam so I did the best I could. I tried a couple of postres (desserts) but settled for ice cream. While I was finishing up, Norma from Ireland, who inherently for a couple more days, updated me on Alix. Alix caught up with her friends and was just a town or two behind.

So today was a day bookended by prayer and food. And with that joy, joy of ascending a gorgeous peak, joy of sunshine, joy of finding that giving myself permission has been so liberating.

Oh, and the peak Alto Del Perdòn? That name means the Heights of Forgiveness. Thank you God for taking me there.

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Camino 2016 05/24 - Slowly I learn, Step by Step

I awoke at 5:30am. Then 6am. Then 6:30am. Two years ago people seemed to use their mobile devices, if they brought them, personally. This time, it seems as though we must all listen to their mobile phone alarm clocks going off at various times. I at first was irked, as many trying to sleep in would, but realized that they, like my ex and like my husband, hit snooze repeatedly to slowly wake up.

Since I go to bed earlier I just wake up and start my prayers. In an ideal situation, given the beauty around us, I'd get up and do them facing the river or views. But in an alburgue with bunk beds, it's fine just doing so from your spot.

I chose to continue to use the bag service to transport my backpack to the next town. I've resigned to using it for the time being until I have the blister situation under control and a much better understanding of why my hips are hurting up steep inclines. My day pack with lunch, water, and medical necessities weighs 7 pounds and that doesn't seem to be an issue for me hip.

I left at 7:40am thinking that at my normal speed, I would get into Pamplona 11:40am or noon with a break. And all that depends on who I meet along the way. I wasn't sure who I would meet since everyone in my dorm left before me.

I said goodbye to the lovely Puente de la Rabia bridge I shared yesterday and started up the hill. Two years ago, Rev. Canon Joanna Satorious who just returned from Camino warned me that since old towns were by rivers, you often left every morning heading uphill to leave the town. As I crested the hill, I saw a huge mill and industrial area. Not exactly promising.

But it's a day of gradual downward walking so I kept my hopes up. Soon I came across Diane and Claude from Ottawa. Diane is the nurse who sat with me in the sun yesterday as we awaited a store to open from siesta so that we could buy compeed for blisters. She only had one but it was big and at a bad spot on ankle. A lovely couple, he a network system business owner who works mostly with the government, they shared their stories about their two PhD kids, one at Oxford studying church history the other at Yale with art history. We split at Larrosoaña so that Diane could rest her foot.

Yesterday I only ate half my apple, half a sandwich, 1/3 of my chips, half my dinner. I still don't have a great appetite to eat a whole meal. I get tired and then the food seems unappetizing. This happened before. The sight of French fries on the Camino last time truly nauseated me, and the Spanish include it with many pilgrim menus. I ate the remainer of my half apple, core and all. It's something I noticed Europeans did and I learned last time there was no point to waste edible parts of the fruit.

I rested, ate the rest of my sandwich, and chatted with Victor from Brazil. He's a fast young man but he stops a lot to take pictures and text. I ran into Lukas and Anna, the Portuguese couple who offered me a fig a couple days ago. From where they sat, I could see Alto Del Perdòn, the high hill we climb tomorrow. They said I don't look American. Interesting how the world still thinks American means Northern European.

Found a highway rest stop and refreshed myself before the last hill before Pamplona. Then started walking in the suburb Arre with Dominique and Patric. They're retired and started in central France at their cottage. They're grandkids are plotting their journey on a map as they post photos.

I checked into a place I reserved, the Albergue Casa Ibarrola, a modernist spot with pods rather than just bunk beds at 12:40. I was slower than normal but much faster than I expected. I decided to rest and launder. I waited for a couple of nice Italian women and they let met have 20 minutes of their dryer time when they felt ready. I washed everything. It felt so good to have laundry that smelled clean and not handwashed. And I gave thanks for those like my friend Rev. Nat Katz who work with Laundry Love and those who must choose between rent and food and laundry.

I walked around Pamplona. I came to Spain last year with my parents and it was fun reminiscing about the lovely walk through the old city with them.

I'm feeling grateful. No heatstroke, frostbite, or even new blisters today. What a joy! Homeostasis was giving me room to heal. The lovely forest walk had few hills over the 21 km. 

For those who know I walk quickly, I'm walking about 1km (0.6 mile) an hour slower. The pedal to the metal types know that can be frustrating but I'm actually accepting it as the price of healing faster. 

And with that, I kept meeting wonderful people from awesome places around the world. Alix leant her sandals to Diane because she saw Diane in such pain from a blister (I saw it last night. It was worse than any of mine). People lending cash when the ATM doesn't work in another country. 

It feels like what the world should be as we walk together. May we remember those from other lands who struggle with healing and safety as they try to make their way in the world.

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