The past week has been a magnificent whirlwind of joy, wonder, and gratitude. This week was also particularly challenging for me in many ways, and at times frustrating, for I felt a lot of deep insecurity and pain begin to surface and demand recognition. I felt blocked and shackled by anxiety, yet couldn’t get myself to release it in a way that felt familiar (usually by crying). Instead, I found healing through continuing my walking journey, and, surprisingly enough, in the company of six men.
Picnic in the park! L to R: Miguel, Jess, Delta, Josep, Erik, Reagan, me. Not present: Jordi, taking the pic.
Three were from Barcelona: Miguel, Jordi, and Josep; one, from Holland: Erik; and two from the United States: Delta and Reagan. Jess and I had run into them all separately since the first days of our Camino, but hadn’t had a collective in depth conversation until we all found ourselves in Viana. We decided to walk together the next day, and every day after, until the three Spaniards reached the end of their journey in Burgos (this was Miguel’s fifteenth time walking the Camino).
It’s been so great for me to find companionship in males who are not related to me in a familial or romantic way. It’s been an interesting change to be surrounded by this masculine energy, for I usually seek close friendships in females. These men have been so lovely to me- I’m generally a pretty slow walker, so they take time to wait for me to catch up to the group, while still respecting my need to be alone at times to reflect. Miguel, who knows how to navigate the Camino quite well, helped us find the best places to stay and eat, and even included us in some of his reservations so we could all stay together.
At the beginning a part of me considered whether or not I truly wanted this kind of guidance on the Camino- I didn’t get a guidebook, and I was passionate about finding my own way. However, with a shift of perspective, I came back to gratitude. How wonderful it felt to be a part of this group, and included in these plans. How amazing it was to not have to worry about finding a place to stay or a good place to eat for a whole week! All I had to focus on was the walk (and so much muck came up from the bottom of my mind that needed to be dealt with- it was good timing). I am so grateful for these people I’ve met and all that they’ve shown me. I realized that just because I’m not alone and trusting other people is finding my way. This is part of my journey- exercising my inner extrovert and making connections, while granting myself this precious time for reflection, is my way.
A few days ago upon leaving Navarette, I started out on my own while the rest of the group started a few moments ahead. I was feeling some remnants of painful emotion, needing some time to be alone and collect my thoughts and enjoy the sunrise while listening to Norah Jones. A man from Canada floated into my snail’s pace down the road (literally, because there are usually tons of little snails on the sidewalk that I stop to put in the grass every once and a while). He had also walked the Camino multiple times, and had even taken five months to walk from Paris to Santiago, to Porto, to Granada, and then to Barcelona. We talked about this inner drive that borders on an addiction to walking that many pilgrims develop on the road (I think back to my time in Estella waking up with a cold, and continuing to push onward). I’ve really fallen in love with the pattern of waking up before dawn and setting off at sunrise to walk all day. Rarely do I even think of Santiago- I really just find pleasure out of putting one foot in front of the other, meeting new people, and being outside. Though I’m naturally a bit of a homebody, someone who loves home life and making a nest, I’ve really enjoyed sleeping in a new place each night, and sleeping well despite the chorus of snores that begin around 10pm. One of my travel companions, also from California, Reagan, has stated multiple times that the Camino feels like the movie Groundhog Day! Though the scenery changes and the hostels are all completely different (though I almost always end up on the top bunk, the wifi is always frustratingly spotty while trying to make blog posts, etc) there is a definite monotony to Camino life, to the point where the towns and the days start to blend together. Far from being unbearable, however- the routine is rich and absolutely fulfilling. Each day we wake up, pack up, eat our usual breakfast of café con leche and a chocolate filled croissant (which barely sustains us past the door, as we need to continue to stop throughout the morning for another cup of coffee, a banana or slice of tortilla con patatas), I complain about not packing gloves at least three times, we arrive at the next town, check into the hostel, try to find decongestants at a farmacia (we all have the same cold), shower, nap, have dinner where Miguel makes me and Jess laugh hysterically until Jordi spills his glass of wine all over the table, we float up to bed with full bellies and try to fall asleep before Delta, Jordi, and Reagan start snoring.
It is just so wonderful.
Today, however, is particularly sad, as we reached Burgos and the Spaniards had to end their journey and say goodbye. However, we all plan on seeing one another again- Erik, Jess and Reagan all plan on making their own trips to visit Barcelona, and Miguel and I are trying to plan a Camino from Santiago- Porto at the end of May (if all bodes well for the rest of this journey). My Spanish and his English improved immensely from spending time together, and we want to continue to learn from each other.
Miguel and I, the two Tauruses, in the company of toros.
So now, there are five. But so far we all plan on sticking together, which I think is quite a lovely thing. At this point I feel like we are all family- Reagan feels like an older brother to me (though he acts so much like my younger brother back home…) and I feel like Erik and Delta could be my uncles.
I am still so overjoyed by this familial atmosphere on the Camino; it’s truly so magical. Being with these people makes me feel so grateful that I forget about those little nagging thoughts and insecurities and become absorbed in the pleasure of their company and presence.
I will always remember the last day walking all together to Burgos- we all managed to stick together the entire time! Reagan and I started the morning by belting Frank Sinatra songs over breakfast. Then we watched the sun rise as we climbed a hill past the small village of Atapuerca, where we had to say goodbye to the flocks of sheep and agriculture land and stroll into the big city, the wind and rain whipping our faces. Jess and I put our headphones in and danced our way into Burgos. Though I have been feeling overwhelmed and unsatisfied visiting the big cities, and most peaceful and content in the small pueblos, Burgos feels different. The old town is quite beautiful and there are many lovely shops and historical monuments to see, including the gorgeous cathedral.
Reagan and Erik being goofs in Burgos
Last night, over hot chocolate with churros, Miguel showed us Santiago de Compostela on google earth. He showed us the path that lead to the cathedral, where he stayed, and the square where everyone meets, embraces one another, and cries. Though I had seen pictures and movies of Santiago before, it was striking to realize we are already almost halfway there. Soon we’ll be at the cathedral.
I think much of my anxiety that arises during my time walking stems from feeling like I should have a concrete motivation for taking this pilgrimage, and realizing that perhaps I don’t (or maybe I don’t even need one). Though many people have stated their motivations, (Erik claims he’ll stop smoking once he reaches Santiago…a familiar story…) I feel as though the purpose of this walk runs deeper than I can even comprehend for myself at this time of my life. Maybe that’s why people find themselves so invigorated by the journey that they continue walking beyond Santiago, or come back and walk the path fifteen times or more.
I met a German woman the other day who reminded me of my grandmother: bright, floral, colorful clothing and large elaborate jewelry, piercing green eyes, short curly strawberry blonde hair, piano teacher…
She was baffled by what many people say they are looking for on the Camino: themselves.
“What does that even mean, to find yourself? Does that mean you’ve always been lost?” she said.
She also shared a story about her son. When he was four years old, he asked her, “Mother, who am I?” (Quite a deep question for a four year old, as it baffled her too!) she replied by saying, “Well, darling, you’re Yoseuf!” (I am pretty sure that’s what she said his name was…)
“Mother, I know my name! But I want to know who I am.”
Though she stated her pilgrimage was for other reasons, I think her quest was triggered by this question as well. Particularly because her son grew up and took his own journey around the world, to Asia, Central America, and the US. She said when he left, he was a boy; a year later when he returned, she said, he was a man. Maybe you find yourself through travel, or perhaps traveling just changes you.
When lovely Diane came to speak to our program, she introduced the idea that the person who returned from our journey would be different than the person who left. She asked us what part of us needs to be shed in order to open up to something new?
Perhaps I can’t see everything in its entirety because I am deep in the process of transformation, and “shedding.” Or, like Paulo Coelho said, the questions he took with him on his journey to Santiago were much more interesting than his answers.
Either way, maybe our reasons for being here shouldn’t completely define our journey. Maybe the purpose at the present moment is just to be here. And that’s enough.
xoxo
