The next morning I got off to a somewhat late start. I woke up and had a delicious breakfast and two great cups of café con leche before I set out. I then went back to my room and packed up Cheater. I left him with the front desk and got my passport stamped at around 9:30. I put it in my little purse strapped around my neck, then stepped outside. Right across from the hostel was a gift shop and, being a shopper, I was immediately drawn inside. There I found Camino tchotchkes of all sorts, including walking sticks, ponchos, postcards, St. James crosses, pens, notebooks with yellow Camino arrows and blue and yellow Camino shells, and more. I decided to get a few small mementos for my daughters, knowing as I purchased them that they wouldn’t hold any significance for them and I was wasting my money. Still, I had to have them. This journey would soon be over and maybe this was my feeble attempt to hang on to the Camino magic a little longer.
Then I walked farther into town and was surprised by how charming it was. I had missed this last night, as I had stayed close to my hostel and hadn’t ventured out to have a look around.
I started taking photos of the beautiful church before me when I met a guy from Ireland named Allen, a chatty fellow, who had just arrived and was just setting out on his first day. He was traveling with a friend named Johnny, and was excited to get under way. They were as different as night and day. Allen was outgoing and chatty, while Jimmy was dark and surly and barely said “Hello.”
Allen offered to take a few photos of me in front of the Church of Santa Marina, a huge edifice with a Gothic feel, and I returned the favor. Afterward, we chatted for a minute and I gave him lots of encouragement and wished him a “Buen Camino.”
Before leaving town, I stopped in the church, which was now open because I had lingered so long taking photos. I said a quick rosary, looked around, and then got another pilgrim’s stamp in my passport from a woman in the back of the church who took her stamping job very seriously.
Once that was done, I headed out of town and was about 15 minutes into my walk when I realized I had only one PowerBar and no money. So I turned around and went back into town to find a cash station. By the time I did that and got under way yet again, it was almost 11:30 in the morning.
Still, it was a bright, sunny day, and I felt no need to rush. My mind and heart were happy and all I wanted to do was sing. So I did. For hours and hours.
Eventually I came upon a man who was sitting by a tree with a sign that said “Free fruit.” It looked good, so I stopped and asked if I could have an orange. He was so friendly and happy to offer it to me that I felt blessed.
I noticed that he had a guitar right next to him, so I asked if he would play and sing a song. He turned bright red and said he was shy, but with a little encouragement he finally agreed. At first he sang so quietly I could barely hear him, but I heartily applauded anyway and thanked him profusely. It seemed to be all that he needed because after that he started playing and singing louder and louder until he was singing at full volume, song after song. Before I knew it I had just been given a 30-minute private concert.
“Wow! Thank you. That was beautiful,” I said. And it was. Beaming, he laughed. Thanking him once again for his lovely song, I asked him what his name was.
He smiled and said, “Patrick.”
Of course it is, I thought, shaking my head. Wow Camino, are you making sure I don’t forget about someone?
We laughed and hugged, and then he stood up to give me a gift, just like the shaman had yesterday. He reached into his bag, which was hanging on a tree branch, and handed me a wooden cross that he had carved himself. I tried to give him money for it, but he refused. “It is a present from the Camino because you bring joy to my day,” he said.
I graciously accepted it and after he wished me a “Buen Camino,” I was once again on my way. Soon I came across a café and stopped for lunch. There were so many pilgrims sitting there it was shocking. I wondered where they had all come from since not one had passed while Camino Patrick #2 was serenading me.
I was now convinced that the Camino was a magical vortex where multiple realities were going on at the same time. Either that or a bus just dropped the entire crowd off across the street right before I arrived. I ordered a Coke and a tortilla, made of eggs and potatoes. I was down to my last days now and I hadn’t eaten much of anything besides egg sandwiches and octopus, and lots of pork and potatoes. It was time to spread my wings a little and sample some new things for a change.
Minutes after I sat down, I saw Allen and Johnny from this morning rambling up the path, both looking pretty challenged. Huffing and puffing, they nearly flopped down on the ground as they walked into the garden area of the café.
I remembered how I had felt the first day after walking over the Pyrenees and how torturous it was. I had compassion for them. It isn’t easy to do this, especially if you are not used to walking this far.
We chatted a bit, but not for long, as they ran into some other pilgrims they had evidently met along the way, so I was left to my peace once again. My tortilla was brought to the table where I was sitting, so I was able to relax and watch the crowd as I lingered over lunch.
My feet were so sore I wondered if I would have to do something drastic to heal them when I got home. I decided just to ask God to heal them and trust it would happen as soon as I stopped beating them to death on a daily basis.
After lunch I got back on my way, grateful I’d had the good sense to get money before I set out. My PowerBar was long gone, and I am sure I could have eaten another tortilla and an egg bocadillo had I the time.
The path twisted and turned, went into the woods, followed the road, went up and down hills, and eventually came to a huge river. Walking across it with speeding traffic alongside me was a little nerve-racking, as I do not like heights and the drop down to the river was very long. The wind was blowing so hard directly in my face that at times I feared I would lose my balance and topple over the low guardrail into the water below. I seriously considered dropping to my knees and crawling across.
Concentrate, Sonia, I told myself. Stop thinking about falling into the river. You’re just freaking yourself out unnecessarily. You are safe and will get to the other side.
I just kept walking, my head down and my feet forward, taking one focused step at a time while looking away from the guardrail. It seemed to take an eternity to get all the way across, but in reality, it was only five minutes.
Finally, I made it. Whew! I felt as though I had really dodged a bullet on that one. Except the truth is I was never really in danger. My mind was just messing with me.
Safely back on solid ground, I looked up. Right before me was a steep, high, wide staircase leading to the city above, and at the top was Clint, sitting peacefully and waving down to me. I hadn’t noticed him before. I was glad I hadn’t crawled across the bridge now. I would have been so embarrassed to have had a witness to that.
I waved back and starting climbing up. It seemed a bit much of the Camino to ask pilgrims to make that steep climb after walking all day, and especially across that bridge, but then again, we were burning off our sins. Maybe we pilgrims needed this extra effort to make sure our karmic slates would be completely clean by the time we arrived in Santiago a few days from now.
Huffing and puffing, I finally made it to the top and plopped myself down next to Clint. “Waiting for Dean?” I asked.
“Yes, have you seen him?”
“He’s not that far behind. I saw him not too long ago with his shoes off, smoking a cigarette.”
“I just love that guy,” Clint said, and I knew he meant it. Bonding on the Camino had to have been special, as it strips away all that is artificial and ego-centered and leaves you only in the vibration of the heart. At least it has the potential to if you come at it with the intention to move in that spiritual direction.
“I’m happy you found such a great friend, Clint. Our relationships are the most important thing in the end, aren’t they?”
“That’s for sure!” he answered.
I then got up and wished him a “Buen Camino.” I turned to look at the river one more time and saw Dean waving and approaching fast, as at ease as ever.
I wandered another half a kilometer into town and came straight to the town’s church. I walked inside and said a prayer of thanksgiving for having had yet another glorious day on the Camino. I hadn’t felt any anger or upset or fear or resentment from my ego for days now. I was peaceful and happy to be me and ready to face anything life brought to my door with love and compassion for all involved. What a miracle that was.
After I left the church I walked out onto a plaza lined with cafés and saw Camino Patrick #1 sitting right in front of me, a cold beer in his hand and a big smile on his face.
I immediately walked over and joined him. “Patrick, I’m so happy to see you!”
We laughed, and I ordered a large, cold beer mixed with lemonade and sat down next to him. Patrick asked how my day was, and I started to tell him about it, when I stopped. The minute I tried to explain all the wonderful things that I’d experienced, they seemed to lose some of their magic and I didn’t want that to happen.
I quickly summed it up by saying, “It was a Camino kind of day.”
He smiled and said, “I understand. Enough said.”
We sat and relaxed, mostly in silence, as we were both too tired to talk at the moment, sipping our beers and watching other pilgrims show up. After a while we got up and went our separate ways. I had a pilgrim dinner waiting for me at the hostel and he had made plans to have dinner with some other pilgrims from the albergue where he was staying. We hugged and wished each other a “Buen Camino,” and dragged our tuckered-out selves back to our respective spots for the night.
As I was falling asleep, I reflected on all that had happened to me since I began this awesome journey a few weeks ago. I came so broken and wounded, and now I was feeling strong and more peaceful with each passing day. I was even feeling deeply happy. The Camino was healing me.