Ponferrada to Villafranca del Bierzo
I woke up early in Ponferrada, still absorbing all that had happened yesterday while walking from Rabanal to here. Once I emerged from under the cold cloud on the top of the mountain after stopping at Cruz Ferro, I walked for miles and miles through the most exquisite mountain valley, filled with every imaginable kind and color of flower. It was breathtaking.
My heart sang and I felt as though I had just shed several thousand years of karma. Words cannot capture the bliss I felt. It was like I was stoned. Every one of my senses was amplified. The colors surrounding me were so brilliant and complex I had to stop every few hundred feet or so to stare at them. The sky was crystal clear and the birds were singing so loudly I wondered if I were hallucinating. Maybe I was. Or maybe this is how the senses work when we are not buried alive in the stale energies of past experiences and the grievances that often come with them. The sweetest fragrances from the flowers washed over me, and that, too, made me marvel, as I had long ago lost my sense of smell. Not on this day, though. I could smell everything.
I was so present and alert it felt as though every cell in my being were turned on full volume. Yet I was peaceful, quiet, and relaxed. Is this how we are supposed to feel all the time? I wondered. Is this the kind of feeling we have when we are very young and uncomplicated?
All I knew was that I was at one with my surroundings and nothing came between me and the beauty and calm of the glorious present. While I had a long way to go to my next stop, I purposely walked slowly so I could savor this incredible experience. I wanted it to last.
A few hours later, I wandered into the small village of Molinaseca. I was suddenly starving and had to stop and eat. When I entered the café, it was standing-room only. I patiently waited my turn to order, not really wanting to talk. I was afraid if I spoke to anyone, even if only to order my egg bocadillo, I might slip out of this serene state I was in, and I wasn’t ready to leave it.
The waiter at the counter, a young kid of no more than 15 or so, understood this, as I held up the menu and pointed to what I wanted when it came my turn to order. He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. Then he asked if I wanted something to drink with a motion of the hand. I pointed to Coke on the menu. He nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.
I looked around. Some people were talking animatedly. Others, like me, stared into outer space as they reflected on the experience of the morning. A young woman got up from a table nearby and left, so I set Pilgrim down and took a seat. It felt good to rest. I didn’t realize how tired I was until my butt hit the chair.
“Ahh,” I sighed, relieved, relaxed, and ready to eat. Two minutes later my sandwich was presented at the counter. I got up, grabbed both it and my Coke, and sat down once again. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to go back down that rabbit hole that had brought me to the point of such pain in the first place. I just wanted to rest and be.
I sat for some time, yet I knew I had another eight kilometers to go before I arrived in Ponferrada, so eventually I forced myself to get going. I grabbed Pilgrim, got my passport stamped, and headed out. The sun was shining so brightly by now it was hard to believe that only a short while ago I was inching my way through freezing cold and dense fog.
The lower I descended on the path, the brighter and warmer the day got. Soon I had peeled off all of my layers and was drenched in sweat. What a day of contrasts. As I walked I could feel something else peeling off of me as well. Old karma from those soul experiences I had as a Knight Templar. I could feel the heaviness and rigidity, that somber dark energy, with its stifling intensity, lift off my bones and drift into the light. With it I could sense guilt and judgment and all the other negative emotions in my soul disappear. In their place was a lightness of being like I had never before experienced. I had somehow burned off my karma and was now free to live fully and happily in present time.
The path wound down the mountain for miles before reaching the city below. Finally the road turned abruptly and revealed the magnificent Templar Castle, built in the 12th century. I had no idea it was there, and seeing it made me gasp. It was like something out of a fairy tale. It towered over everything, and the minute I saw it I recognized it with every cell of my being. I just stood and stared. I was spellbound.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I first find my hostel then come back to visit inside? Should I just go in right now? I was confused. Looking up at the massive structure, I decided that I would cross the moat and drawbridge and enter right then. Only to my surprise, once I crossed the bridge, and approached the entryway, I discovered the castle was closed. I was strangely relieved. I was not to go in, not then anyway.
I walked away and looked at the castle from down below once again. I then walked across the plaza and went into the tourist office and asked what time it would open tomorrow.
The woman inside shook her head and said that it was closed tomorrow as well, and would not reopen until the day after. I walked out, shaking my head, taking this all in. I then walked to a café just across from the massive structure and sat down. I knew the doors where closed to me because my energetic attachments to the Templars were now over. I was not supposed to go backward, not even to visit the castle. I was to keep moving on. It was perfect.
I closed my eyes and felt the warm sun on my face. The cold and gray had disappeared as well as all the heavy energies that I had carried with me for all these lifetimes. I ordered a glass of red wine and sipped it slowly. It tasted so good. I then ordered a pepperoni pizza and ate the whole thing. Finally I had an ice-cream cone. It was time for a graduation party.
After that I decided to walk around the medieval town. Everything was closed as tight as a drum, and I figured out it was Sunday. The cafés were open, but not the shops. That meant I couldn’t even buy Knights Templar memorabilia, which was on display in the window of every shop surrounding the castle. The past was over; my new holy adventure was in the here-and-now.
A bit farther into town, I found the cathedral. I walked in and sat down to say a rosary in thanksgiving for closing this heavy chapter of my past forever. It was dark and sad, and hard to see anything. But then another pilgrim placed a coin in a slot to one side of the altar and it lit up, almost like at a movie theater, revealing a magnificent multilayered, carved tableau filled with ornate versions of saints, surrounding Mother Mary in the center. Soon a frail, old Spanish woman came out from the sacristy and lit the candles on the altar and left. Shortly after this, bells rang and a mass began. I looked around and saw about ten very old Spaniards in attendance, as well as a sprinkling of pilgrims. I stayed through the mass and then lit candles for everyone in my family.
Afterward, I wandered back outside and made my way toward my hostel. It was a simple, old hotel just up from the castle and located on the plaza. I walked into the lobby, only to find a soccer match was blaring on TV with no one watching. In the corner stood Cheater, waiting patiently for me to pick him up.
No one was in sight, so I walked to the receptionist’s desk and rang a small bell sitting there. Moments later, a young woman came rushing from the kitchen to help me. After checking in, I went upstairs to find a comfortable room, with a fairly new bed, warm blankets, and heat, although today I had to turn it down. It was too warm in the room. Exhausted, I lay quietly on the bed. What an incredible day. I could hardly believe all that had transpired in the expanse of only seven hours. It felt as if I had just been in a time warp, as lifetimes had passed before my eyes.
I was spent, so I promptly fell asleep.
The next morning the town was still quiet when I woke up. I took a shower and started to get dressed when I noticed that sitting on top of my hiking gloves was a bright shiny American penny, the kind my father used to give me as a child. I heard his voice, “Remember, Sonia, in God we trust.” I burst into tears, as I knew my father had placed that penny there while I slept. There was no other way it could have gotten there.
“Dad, thank you,” I cried. “Thank you for walking with me. Thank you for all the lessons. I love you so much.” I had to sit down and regain my composure, as I was overwhelmed with my find and the love that had just poured down from heaven and throughout my body.
“Okay, Dad,” I finally said as I finished getting dressed. “Let’s go.”
I had a quick breakfast and got under way. After only ten minutes of walking, I left the surreal realm of medieval Ponferrada and entered into a very different reality. Modern Ponferrada was gray, dreary, and took forever to get out of. I yearned for the calm beauty of the Camino more than ever before as I inched my way out of town.
After about an hour, I encountered a Brazilian man of around 25 years old named Paolo, who could barely walk his feet hurt so badly. He stopped and showed me why. He had so many blisters on his feet they looked like shredded wheat. I offered him some of the many Band-Aids I still had, and he grabbed them all. He covered his feet with them and then decided he would walk in his socks, as his shoes didn’t fit with all the bandages covering them.
I wished him a “Buen Camino” and carried on.
Eventually I freed myself of the urban sprawl that was modern Ponferrada and headed back into more pastoral territory. This part of the Camino is known as Galicia and was once populated by ancients Celts, so the music playing in little cafés and shops along the way was filled with bagpipes. I hadn’t expected that, but it was delightful.
There was a big winery just off the path at one point, and I stopped to grab a snack. Inside I found many pilgrims having a very drunken good time, which they heartily invited me to join. Since it was only 11 in the morning, I took a pass. I knew if I started drinking now I wouldn’t make it the rest of the way.
While the walk was not as long as it was the day before, because I was so spent from yesterday’s experience, it seemed as though I would never arrive. I could barely trudge along for the last ten kilometers.
“Please end!” I screamed in my dramatic fashion to the Camino, as it kept going and going and going. “I’m tired of walking today. Let it end!”
So much for bliss, I thought. While I was free of my past, the present was getting on my nerves big-time.
It was just plain fatigue. I had walked an average of 29 kilometers (18 miles) for the past 25 days in a row, and it was just too much today. I guess what goes up must come down, I thought as my irritation flared. It was not realistic or possible to expect that I could drift on a cloud indefinitely. In my heart I was still light, still peaceful, still feeling free. My body—especially my feet and now knees—on the other hand, was miserably aching, and I was tired of pushing myself. I had not taken a day off since I started and today I felt it.
Still, I kept walking. What else was there to do? To waste energy fighting the path was silly. I knew that much by now. I prayed instead.
Holy Mother-Father God,
I’m tired. If you have a few angels to spare and can give me some wind under my wings, I would very much appreciate it.
Thank you, and amen.
No wind came. I kept going.
Finally, finally I wandered into Villafranca del Bierzo. It was charming, filled with little cafés and restaurants all situated along the lovely plaza running the length of the town. I sat down and promptly ordered a large, cold beer. I had arrived.
I took my time drinking it before I set out to find my hostel, but had no luck. I traversed the town three times before I decided to stop and ask for directions. Good thing I did because it was located down some hidden steps at the end of the plaza, something I would never have found on my own.
The hostel was in a medieval stone building, so it was cool and dark inside, a very pleasant relief from the bright sun I had walked under all day. I rang the bell and waited for five minutes. I could hear someone talking, but he didn’t come out. I was impatient. Why was he making me wait?
I had not had a bitchy day in a while, and was surprised to see nastiness descending upon me like the flu. I rang the bell again. A minute later, out walked a man from the back.
“Why are you ringing the bell again?” he snapped at me, in perfect English. “I heard you the first time!”
Whoa! He was bitchier than I was.
I took a breath. He was so stern he scared me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t sure you did.”
He was curt and handed me a key without looking me in the eye.
I asked about Cheater, and he said that he was in the back hallway. He led me to retrieve him, and then pointed to the stairs.
“You are on the third floor,” he said dismissively. He started to walk away, then stopped.
“Dinner is at 7 P.M.,” he barked up at me.
“Okay,” I said.
I went back down at 7 P.M., starving.
I must have been the only guest staying there, as there was only one table setting in the entire place. Moments after I sat down, the surly man came out and nearly threw a bowl of soup in front of me, then left.
I was annoyed that he was still not very nice as I took my spoon to taste his fare.
Then—oh my God! The soup was outstanding. I couldn’t believe I was served something so delicious by this troll of a person. I licked the bowl clean.
Moments later he came out again, removed my soup bowl, and slammed down a plate of roasted pork, garden vegetables, and stewed fruits. Again, I was blown away by how delicious it was. I ate every bite, forcing myself to slow down, as I didn’t want to finish too fast. Surly Man was a fantastic chef.
When he brought out dessert, an orange flan with homemade whipped cream, I nearly died.
“Wow! This is so good. Thank you,” I said. He just looked at me and grunted, then left the room.
I ate all my dessert and had two glasses of wine. My dinner was gourmet from beginning to end.
As I sat sipping my wine, I wondered why I was having this experience on the Camino right now.
I had been so high and felt so transcendent yesterday, only to face this paradox of mixed messages sent by a grump today.
I listened for guidance and heard that I was to be happy inside no matter what was going on with others around me.
As an empath, I’ve often been affected—even controlled—by the energies and moods of those around me, having my good mood or happy feeling snatched away by someone else’s bad mood before I could even try to stop it.
What a great lesson—and served with such a delicious meal.
When Grumpy inquired as to whether or not I wanted some coffee, I just smiled and said, “No, thank you, but thank you for a lovely dinner. You are a magician in the kitchen.”
He stopped and looked at me and almost smiled. Then he turned and left.
I decided to get up and do the same, heading for my room, now exhausted.
I looked at Gumby as I was falling asleep.
“Get that, Gumby? It is time to stop allowing others to dictate how I feel.”
He smiled as usual.