To The End: The Atlantic Ocean

In different texts and countries, it can be read as Finisterra, Finisterre, or Fisterra, but for me, it just mattered that I kept up the motivation to make it to the Atlantic ocean.

It would also mark the moment where I would complete my last day of walking.  At least as far as walking on the Camino goes.  I thought about what would be different after returning home, but in the end I hoped that it wouldn't be odd or bad to think: not much?  I'd be happier, and that was enough for me.  Happy to have finished one of those feats that are on the never ending list of things I've always wanted to do, but am afraid I never will.

During the last few days, there had been a lot of talk over the next long treks that people were willing to do. From the Appalachian Trail, the Continental Divide Trail, and the Pacific Crest Trail (all known as the Triple Crown of long distance hiking in the U.S. and several kilometers longer than the Camino), people were sharing information on what they had known about each one, with the Appalachian Trail seeming like the most popular choice.  We laughed over passages from Bill Bryson's, "A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail", which someone carried with them and shared amongst the group, and we had actually met and had lunch with Bill Walker.  Bill is nearly 7 feet tall, and we met him in Santiago at a kebab restaurant. My friend Robin from Amsterdam, had walked the Camino last year and swore he met Bill then too.  It turns out that Bill remembered Robin, and during their nice reunion he told us about how he wrote a book titled, "Skywalker--Close Encounters on the Appalachian Trail", which furthered Robin's interest in doing the trek on top of his father having already walked parts of it before.

Bill Walker--nearly 7 feet tall

I never really considered doing another long distance hike. My friend Lindsay was scheduled to walk the Pennine Way only a week or so after finishing the Camino. I ended up giving her my poncho, waterproof pack cover, and a durable water bottle to set her up for her next trek.  When she asked me if I was sure, I exhaustedly expressed to her, "I'm really not planning on doing another long hike for quite sometime," and she took the items graciously.

Rather than planning for another hike, I was more concerned with maintaining momentum on finishing the to-do list I kept in my mind.  I want to learn how to play piano, take yoga seriously, and write a really bad novel that no one will likely read.  I want to find a job I love, love fearlessly, forgive lovingly, and live intensely.

My hiking shoes in the ocean

Looking back, I didn't think I would walk everyday.  I wasn't sure if my body was up for it.  I didn't think I would make genuine friends that I felt I could grow close to, and I didn't think I'd sustain injuries in body parts I never had previous problems with.  I just didn't know what would happen when I started out, and was proud enough that I even made it to St. Jean Pied-de-Port, France over a month ago after hoping for so long that I would one day take on the Camino de Santiago. I suppose that now I know a little bit more about myself, and have a new confidence for the way forward, even if it means I'll never do another long distance hike again.

Finisterra was always the final destination for my Camino.  Most of my ocean viewing experiences were with the Pacific, but nothing beats a walk alongside an ocean.  Walking to the coast seemed more final to me, because it was the furthest point I could go on foot, and would also complete the length across an entire country.  Not to mention, I just had the time, and I wasn't sure when I'd have time like this again.

When we finally reached the Atlantic, it was the first sunny walking day we had without any rain at all.  The previous weeks before had been filled with rain and the kind of weather that just wouldn't allow our clothes to completely dry and be ready for the next day.  When we looked at the weather reports across Spain, it seemed like where we were was the only sunny location along the entire route of the Camino.

Clearly, a positive sign of good things headed our way.

--J

500 Miles: And then I reached Santiago

In my lifetime, I haven't scaled any mountains with names worth remembering, or survived on a deserted island. I'm not sure that I even consider myself an enthusiastic and self-sufficient outdoors-woman.

 When I was young, my family drove across the United States from Florida to Alaska, but I can barely recall anything aside from the details of the interior of our family van, and how excited I was to drive through Canada just because it was my first "other country".

I'm not a triathlete or a millionaire or have a job that makes me feel important. I'm not an adventurous thrill-seeking daredevil and I think anything that I've done that could come close to that category was by accident or default. I'm not a lot of things.

But I did walk across Spain, from France, through the Pyrenees, and to the cathedral in Santiago neither by default or accidentally. And I think a lot could be said about that.

When I didn't know how I'd feel through it all, after looking back I know I felt all the highs and lows I didn't expect to. I made friends where I didn't think I would, and I walked further and took other routes  than I had planned. I learned how to survive my doubts and fears a little better, and more importantly, I just feel better about myself and life in general. And it's really what I wanted most.

It would have been a beautiful morning to walk to the Cathedral in Santiago at sunrise, but the clouds and rain and overall grayness had continued to follow us the way it had been the entire week. Still, there was a clear skip in our steps and we were filled with immense excitement as we crossed into the outskirts of Santiago and headed towards the center. There was an obvious commercial aspect to walking through the city. An overwhelming amount of pilgrim souvenir shops stood amongst the sea of albergues, hotels and restaurants with varying ways of attaching "peregrino" to their names.

I considered how the institution of the Camino de Santiago extended commercially past the journey to the resting place of St. James, but to me I didn't really think it deterred from the experience of finishing such a long trek.

After receiving my Compostella, I went to explore the Cathedral. Between the traditional embracing of the statue St. James, seeing his tomb, and sitting through mass held in a language I didn't understand, I was able to peacefully forget the menial Camino things that bothered me. I didn't think about the lines I had to wait in for the bathroom or to pay my bill, I forgot about the unpleasant people I met, the not-so-great or not-so-hygienic hostel experiences, and the damage to my body that I hope will heal.

Some people say that going through the Camino experience has a way of transforming you.  There's this line in a song by The Avett Brothers called "The Perfect Space" that goes:

"I want to have friends, that I can trust
That love me for the man I've become, not the man that I was
And I want to have friends, that let me be
All alone when being alone is all that I need"

It makes me consider who I was, am, and will be. I wonder the same for others I have met too. There were times when  we walked together, broke off to walk alone, and took things in stride to have the Camino we needed. There were times when we had to remind each other why we were here or had to be the positive attitude that someone else needed.

Being on the Camino sometimes felt like that clean slate feeling of starting your first year in high school or university. You have a new pool of people to be surrounded by and you can re-invent yourself, be a stranger, be the same, or run away from what you used to be. You wonder about how much your past matters, and if you'll still be accepted by older friends if you're too different, or by new friends if they knew who you were before.  Sometimes I've felt like I'm running away, and other times I felt like I'm merely searching for the next direction worth running to.

Over a month ago, Santiago was that direction for me. And now I have well worn in shoes, aches and pains that I can neither explain or will go away, and strength that can only come from walking great distances for the past month.  It was a much needed break even though at times it didn't seem like one. And sometimes you have to choose to take that abrupt break from life and leave everything you know to walk across a country. I don't think there are many equivalent experiences to that sort of thing.

As far as directions go from here, I'm headed to Finisterra/Fisterra next and will pass through Muxia. Finisterra was once considered the end of the world, and to end my walking journey I want to walk to the Atlantic and see the sun set into the ocean.



"I want to fit in
To the perfect space
To  feel natural and safe
In a volatile place"

Walk This Way

From O'Cebreiro it's about 155km to Santiago. The pace I take to accomplish this stretch is different from how I planned, but in the end it turned out to be exactly what I wanted. I owe it almost completely to the new group I started to travel with. It resulted in an increase of pace in both how we walked and talked and made me realize that this was the first time I travelled with an all English speaking group for multiple days.

My days of receiving Spanish lessons and giving English lessons were behind me and I now had different friends that came complete with inside jokes, sarcasm, and random facts about the world that would otherwise be too hard to translate using elementary foreign language skills.

When we passed through Sarria, we reached the town where a lot of pilgrims start their Camino. It marks the last 100km of the Camino which is the minimum distance required to obtain a Compostella, or certificate showing completion of the pilgrimage all the way to Santiago.

We saw several new pilgrims and it seemed like more families started from this point together.  Though there were few, we still saw people from the first day starting back in St. Jean. I had never really considered doing the Camino any other way, but I understood how several of the people I met were on a schedule dictated by their job or other life demands.

I met a grandmother from Norway who, for the past few years, has taken a different grandchild each year to do a portion of the Camino in sequential order. I met two Spanish men who were best friends since their youth that took a week off from work every year to do different sections, and said that each time their packs are lighter as they gained experience on what they really need to carry. I met a woman who was 7 months pregnant. I met people who started 750km before St Jean in Le Puy, France and I met a couple that started in Geneva who had been walking since April. I met a man who started walking from Holland.

When I meet others who, like me, are taking the 30 some odd days to complete the entire Camino Frances route, I find that they're mostly students or teachers on summer break, retirees, or people unemployed or between jobs. It covers a wide spectrum of ages, experience and wisdom, and we all have to start somewhere...and finish too.

The Dragonte Route (Part 2)

I don't think I've ever been in the middle of nowhere on a mountain in a foreign country and felt more happy to be...found.

The voices behind me were from a group of two girls from Canada, Dawn and Lindsey, and Robin from Holland. We spent a good amount of time just rejoicing in finding each other while also recounting the ridiculous path it took just to get to this point. I had seen them on and off throughout the Camino, but hadn't walked with them before.

They seemed so impressed that I was out here by myself, and before they could say anything further, I stepped in and asked to join their group for the remainder of the way.

"There's no way we're leaving you alone!" Dawn exclaimed.

I would remain with this group for the rest of the Camino, but at this point in the journey on Dragonte, although I was proud of myself for getting so far while alone, I knew that joining them would be the best decision. The path was easier from that point on even though it would be hours before we would stop for the night.

After a quick snack to recharge we carried on with our guides in our hands and much more hopeful and motivated toward the task ahead. We wouldn't see another pilgrim for the rest of the route until the point where the Dragonte route crossed over with the traditional Camino Frances route.

As we continued we steeply descended the mountain alongside a rock quarry and toward a small town we could see in the distance and used as a point of reference. The path, or what we assumed was the path, was incredibly overgrown and filled with thorny branches and bushes that pulled at our clothing and annoyingly scratched and pierced our skin. Ouch.

Finally we reached asphalt road and the steep uphill toward the town. We weren't sure which town it was so I asked as best I could in Spanish when we finally saw someone. We met an old woman who told us where we were, which was San Fiz do Seo. The only "cantina" was closed and looked like it hadn't been visited in years.

Still, we took advantage of civilization and sat down against a building on some benches. We squeezed the water out of our socks and changed into dry ones. We ate what food we had on us. We rested and discussed our strategy for the rest of the day. It was only a little before 1pm.

After setting off again, we started to see more markers for the trail, although they were few and far between and very poorly placed. We laid down arrows and rocks to guide the way for others that may come and when we reached the next town of Villasinde, we found the motivation we really needed.

Finally we found a bar! Or...what we could call a bar. It seemed more like a large room for entertainment in someone's house, and it was closed when we arrived. A woman saw us from her balcony and pointed in the direction of the "bar" and yelled something to another woman.

That other woman, smiled at us warmly, and opened a set of doors and welcomed us in. We asked  for coffee and she left the room making it seem as though she went to her house to make it. My guidebook mentioned the bar being owned by someone named Celia. I ask her what her name was and she tells us it is in fact Celia and we excitedly point to her name in the guidebook.

The coffee Celia serves us is some of the best tasting coffee we had on the Camino. We ask her if she had seen any other pilgrims besides us. It was already after 2 and very unlikely that anyone would arrive any later. She said she had only seen two other pilgrims, travelling together, but they hadn't walked the entire way. Apparently they were driven to the town of Dragonte and after reaching Celia's they had their hiking backpacks forwarded on by taxi to the town where they would end their day. It's a common service provided all along the Camino.

Celia said that she doesn't see many pilgrims anymore because when they built the new major road, they changed the Camino route along with it resulting in an easier and shorter route. She assured us that hiking through the mountains of Dragonte had been part of the original route of St. James and she misses the company of the pilgrims that would frequent her bar. After more coffee, she sends us on our way and advises us to use radio towers that we'll see eventually to guide us to the next town that will link us to the Camino Frances route.

We arrive in Herrerias  in the evening and decide to stop at that point for dinner, but continue to O'Cebreiro cementing the fact that we'll have walked over 40km by the end of the day. The town, though it seemed empty and uninhabited, was one of the larger ones we stopped at, and was where we finally saw other Pilgrims coming up from the traditional route. The dinner we ate was probably one of the most delicious of the entire Camino, although it could have been because of the distance and climbing we had achieved the hours before. We were the only customers in this tiny restaurant with low light and stone walls, but the servers were so kind and it was the perfect stop before our last climb up to O'Cebreiro.

You can always tell you're close to a village when your nose finds the overwhelming smell of cow manure...or see it on the ground and have to tip toe around it to avoid having unpopular shoes at the end of the day.  This is exactly what happened when we passed through La Faba and had to stop along the side of the road as a large group of cows were being herded through. La Faba seemed lively with several pilgrims milling about, and we realized that many of them were stopping there for the night and leaving the hike to O'Cebreiro for the morning. I even saw my Spanish friends who left me that morning! As we passed them they were drinking beers outside a bar and Dawn pointed at me and told them I was the strongest woman on the Camino. They looked at her and smiled and said, "We know."

It felt nice to be so warmly accepted by a new group of people and we ended up getting along so well the rest of the way.

As we made the final climb up and into O'Cebreiro the sky began to darken, the wind picked up and the fog covered the mountainside blocking our view of the valley below and behind us. We put on our jackets again and when we walked into the village it seemed like we were set back hundreds of years in an absolutely beautiful and quaint town.  The stone buildings were so well maintained and we felt like we were in a film with the way it was set against the fog and the mountains.

We were so happy to have made it! By the time we reached the Albergue it was nearly 8pm. It seemed like we were given the nicer rooms they had to offer. Maybe because we said we did the Dragonte route, or because when pilgrims arrive late it means they travelled very far.

Dawn paid for our Albergue fees that night to celebrate. We took a moment just sitting there together and finally being able to stop after such a demanding and adventurous day. To us, that's what we hoped the Camino would be and it felt like real hiking after travelling days alongside busy roads.

We also had decided that it was one of the best days of our lives.

And then we did what pilgrims do: shower, laundry, eat, take care of injuries, and fall asleep thinking of the next day ahead.

The Dragonte Route (Part 1)

The route less travelled.

I set off at 0630. Sleeping in an extra 30 minutes more than I had planned probably wasn't the best start, but I knew it would be a long day anyway and I was pleased to pay the extra money to sleep in a nicer pilgrim hostel. It offered free Internet with single beds rather than bunk beds so everyone would be guaranteed a floor level bed. I didn't realize how big of a deal it was to not get the top bunk. I never really preferred them myself, mostly due to fear of rolling over and falling onto the floor, but I think the Camino has made me much more comfortable with them now.

The bathrooms were clean and came with...hydro-massaging showers. It's exactly how it sounds. Equipped with more buttons than necessary causing one to not intuitively know what each button did, water came at me at all directions. I felt like Ross in the episode of 'Friends' where he goes to a New York City tanning salon to achieve a perfect spray tan.

Around sunrise, we left our hostel and headed toward the outskirts of town. There were three choices of routes to take, but there weren't clearly marked signs that we could see that would  eventually dictate our fates that day. My Spanish friend Diego walks into a nearby bar to ask for clearer directions. He returns with a discouraged look on his face. He knows which way goes where, but was again warned for what seemed like the tenth time that the Dragonte route was poorly marked and dangerous. 

He tells me he's taking the more popular, traditional and better marked route. Everyone else agrees with him. I look over my shoulder in the direction of Dragonte and take off with a quick goodbye and say, "Maybe I'll see you in Herrerias," but I already know that I won't. He'd pass it before me if he doesn't decide to wait, which isn't a reasonable choice anyway. The rightfully selfish part of the Camino is that you go at your own pace, choose your route, and hope that the Camino takes care of you. Still, the confidence of possibly linking up again was comforting for us, and with another stepI take off without looking back.

I'm now completely alone. I spent the entire morning without seeing a single pilgrim. The first stretch was along a steep and desolate uphill asphalt road and I start to think about how long it's been since I've really walked all on my own after having attached to different groups the last two or so weeks. Sunrise didn't really exist with the dark clouds above and the chilling wind coming at me in every direction. The main reason I felt confident about the route was because my guidebook had instructions, although obscure, of how to reach different points along the way and what one should see and where to approximately turn.

I pass through the first seemingly abandoned mountainside town of Dragonte with ease. The only sign that pilgrims once came through here is a village fountain marked with the traditional pilgrim conch shell symbol of St. James. Aside from that, I feel like any car that passes me by and other townspeople that see me are looking at me in astonishment or as if I'm crazy.  Had they ever seen pilgrims before on this route?

I take on my first set of obscure instructions of passing a rock quarry on my left and turning right after a grove of trees up a hill. The narrow path seems overgrown and I assume that I see fresh footprints of possible other pilgrims who came before me earlier in the morning. In the end, I think they were just from farmers moving their cattle through the forests. Then again, I'm not a tracker. I look at the dark clouds again and even though I don't think it'll rain that much or at all, I'm not a meteorologist either. All skills that probably could prove helpful in lonely pilgrimage situations with unmarked trails.  I don't think the first traditonal trail marker of a yellow arrow appear until 8km in.

I remember how discouraged others seemed after hearing how poorly marked the trail is. This trail wasn't in most of the other guidebooks or maps people had. People had heard of it, but it seemed like any route description of it made it's way to the maps or guides that pilgrims were carrying. I hated the feeling of being left at the last minute. It wasn't so much a feeling of abandonment as much as it was that the others didn't have the confidence to do it with me. I decide to do my part and lay down cairns, or a pyramid pile of stones to mark routes for hikers, whenever I felt confident about the direction I took on this route.  Later I decide that carrying a can of yellow spray paint to create the familiar yellow arrows, or even a machete to cut down the overgrown plants would have been helpful.

The  helpful farmer leaving

At one point, I found myself face to face with a herd of cows making their way down the path toward me. They just stop and stare directly at me. Maybe it's not so odd in the Spanish countryside, but coming from the city, I wasn't really sure what to do.  I decide against walking toward them. Seeing images of San Fermin with the running of the bulls in Pamplona spring into my head.  I decide to move off the path and head a little into the steep down.  A few minutes later two dogs come charging at me from behind the group of cows. I freeze until I see the shape of a man come from inbetween the animals.

"....Hola....?" I say in my southern Californian accent.

The farmer comes to me and says something to me in Spanish that I could only assume were directions.  He uses his hands to point at what I think should be the next few directions I should be going in.  Even though I knew this wouldn't help me, I thank him graciously and wait for him to move past me with all his cattle.  I do catch that he tells me that they aren't bulls. A little embarrassed, I continue on knowing I have such a long day ahead of me.

Hidden derelict building

My first real spell of discouragement came when I couldn't find a 'derelict stone building' that I was to turn right at. I was confident in my pace count that I was precisely 1.5km into the forest where the building should be, so I went 100m in  a few directions to see if I could find it and was just thrown off by the incline of the trail. I found both a large clearing and a small waterfall, both nice, but neither were noted in the book, so I started to follow my steps back from where I came.

After nearly an hour of searching and backtracking I finally found it concealed a bit too well. It seemed like it appeared out of nowhere and it blended in so well with the rest of the stones, trees and mountainside. Relieved, I took a photo for the memory and continued on. The rest of the directions were accurate and I walked 30m through a small stream (wet socks!) before reaching a dry path to follow again. It was at this point that the rain started coming down and harder with every passing minute so I put on the poncho and continued until I frustratingly came to the end of the path where there were 3 options to choose from and no clear decision to make. I knew I had to find a church next and make my way up and out of the forest so I chose the way where it seemed like the trees cleared up in the distance.  After a few hundred meters I discovered I made the right decision and took shelter under an arch of an old church that didn't seem well looked after or that friendly. I don't think anyone was even there or that the door would open, but my guide mentioned that it was formerly a monastery and pilgrim hospice of San Fructuoso.

Church-both shelter and a view

I moved on eventually and made my way out of the next abandoned town and followed a path leading to the high point of the first mountain. The clearing fog and the ceasing rain combined to grant me my first spectacular views and I was so grateful. I took advantage of the moment by removing my poncho and taking my first real break to recharge my energy and eat some food. It was just after 11am and I calculated that I had only hiked around 12km. It wasn't the most encouraging news seeing how I was averaging around 5km an hour on other...more flatter days.

About 20 or 30 minutes had passed when suddenly behind me in the distance I heard a woman's voice.

"Oh my God, is that actually another person?!......Is that Justine?"


(end of part 1)

To Live Intensely

I'm almost too tired to write but I feel like I should take advantage of the wifi as I write this on my phone.

Tomorrow will be what I think is the last hardest day as far as terrain goes. I'll work to make my way toward O'Cebreiro and plan to stop short possibly in Herrerias. The normal route calls for 30km, but is 36km with the adjustment for climb.

Except I don't think I'm going to go that way. There's this other more challenging route that promises the most beautiful views of the Valcarce valley, but requires twice as much climbing. It's called the Camino Dragonte route. The adjusted distance is 44km, but the first town I can stop at will be at 32km along the way and is probably going to be the most reasonable place to break for the night at that point.

There have been several warnings here and there about how challenging it is and how it's poorly marked and there aren't any towns to stop at along the way. Aside from this, no one has skipped a beat when they talk about hearing how beautiful it is.  In my head I just think of the first arduous day from St Jean to Roncesvalles that never seemed to stop climbing uphill in addition to the sideways rain and steep downhill march. All of this combined into perfect pain, exhaustion, and pride.

It just makes sense for me to go. The group I've been traveling with here and there  seem to keep changing their minds, despite the fact that I'm the tiny girl of the group. Tonight I just said that I wasn't afraid and that I don't want to take the easier route and always wonder if I should have turned left when instead I went right.   I don't know if there's going to be a second Camino for me so I'm treating this experience as being the one and only. It just feels different from when I decide to sleep early after a day of walking and miss seeing the town and it's monuments. This seems more than that.

So I've packed food for tomorrow (extra weight!), am prepared for possible rain, and scanned the map for alternative routes to reach the main road in case of disaster. I'm also suddenly grateful for the travel insurance I purchased only hours before my train to France.  

There's only so much one can do in these types of situations. When I was younger, I remember always being annoyed when before some significant event I was asked, "Are you ready?" 

I used to just reply with, "I'm ready because I have to be."

I should probably reveal now that I'm not the most intuitive when it comes to land navigation, so the lack of marked paths is probably what worries me the most. I think I tend to lose patience with deciding which way to go when I might be lost, so I'll just pick a way and take it and hope I'm right or that I can make up for it later. Since I lack in that area, I tend to go with what "feels right" in order to avoid frustration and wasted time  in calculations and over preparation. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. 

I'm just not scared. And that's enough for me (and all I need?).

Oh and I'm not sure who reads this, but I'll try to post soon after so you know I've survived!

So here's to not going right.

--J

Charades and Spanglish-aliano

I arrived in Astorga and it's so beautiful even with quite an overcast day with rain looming in the distance.  By the next morning, the weather doesn't allow my laundry to fully dry so I have to pin my socks to my backpack and let them dry in the wind while I walk the next leg.

Astorga has plenty to see and would be an ideal place to stay if I were able to allow myself to stay somewhere more than 24 hours.  How could I not love a place that was once a center for chocolate production? Aside from that, there are so many sites to see to include original Roman walls and foundations and the Bishop's Palace designed by Gaudi. Today may be a day where I wish I wasn't so tired, but after a couple of days of fairly athletic walking at a fast pace to take advantage of the flat roads, I can feel it all catching up to me.

During this next week's stretch, the terrain begins to climb and fall as we enter the mountains of Galicia. The views are expected to be breath taking, but not without a lot of hard work and probably my knee brace.  I think that may be my metaphor for life now that I think about it--aside from the knee brace part.

I can't believe how far I've come on my own...or how hard it is to not scratch these bug bites and aggravate them further.  Yes. I have become the unfortunate victim of bed bug bites due to the glamorous life of hostel living. Though I remember my friend Kate telling me about getting bed bug bites when she walked the Camino and how absolutely miserable she was, until she told herself that she could either be miserable and stay in all day or go out and enjoy what there is around her. That's exactly what she did, and what I did as well--after a stop to the pharmacy to obtain some kind of cream to help alleviate the itching.  (Imagine how asking for such a thing looks like without having the proper Spanish vocabulary and using wonderfully ridiculous hand motions). 

My Spanish skills are also improving and I now think that I speak some form of Spanglish-aliano that seems to get me by with the people I meet.  If I don't know a word in Spanish, I attempt it in Italian to see if that works, and if it doesn't then both I and the other person play a game of charades or try using similar words until we figure it out. It's an interesting way to pass the time...especially when for some reason you're trying to list Kevin Costner films or music groups.

I helped a Spanish friend with his English the other night and had to explain to him the difference in pronouncing "peaches" and "bitches" and that he in fact, had "sweet peaches" for dinner and well....not the other.

Run to the Rhythm

There are things that I am, and things that I'm not.  Similar to the Camino, I have my high points and low points, and even if the route during the last few days have been constant and level, our attitudes and morale do not always follow suit.  I started to consider how much of our attitudes we're actually in control of.  I can fix a rainy day with ice cream and ordering in Chinese, but I can't fix the persistent body aches or intangible mental annoyances that carry on with each and every step.

I suppose we can't be inspired every day and we can't always be happy just because we expected to.  Still, I do believe that our own tempo develops us and makes us better, even if we don't believe it does at first or even like it.  There are some days, when I wake up and ask for just five more minutes, the same way I did during University or afterwards with my previous profession. Other days, I question how much I really like hiking, or walking for that matter, and wonder if what I've put my body through the last few years has been really worth it.  I think that pain can both tell us when to stop and take a break, orcan  inspire us to change our rhythm and find what works.  Maybe it just takes a knee brace or ibuprofen that's necessary--or maybe it's a professional or location based lifestyle change.

So not everyday can be described as "good", but that doesn't mean that it was awful.  Something or someone you didn't expect or plan for in your life doesn't mean that you're thrown off your track of ultimate happiness or whatever it is you were working towards.  I can't control or maintain an easy-going positive attitude and max it out everyday, but I know that I can control how I express myself, even if it's choosing to smile over choosing to frown.  And I've learned over the years that smiling goes a long way.

I think sometimes I'd like to fantasize that the Camino de Santiago is this happy-go-lucky dream where we break out into spontaneously choreographed song and dance accompanied by harmonic forest critters.  Though I know that pilgrims, including myself, are going through an internal journey just as much as an external one. And this kind of journey may not be remedied by the completion of the Camino, or even by a fellow pilgrim.

I was walking next to someone new a few days ago, and when asked for reasons for doing the Camino, my limited Italian could only reveal that, "Last year I was sad, and this year I want to be happy."

The rest of the stretch was walked mostly in silence and nothing more was said on the issue.  Sometimes that's all you need or all you can offer.

So no matter the expectations we have on the Camino, or even in life, it's not always going to be easy/lucky/free  (reference to the song by Bright Eyes).  Though in spite of this, our life's rhythm isn't static.  Our pace changes and dances along with the factors of time, health, money, attitude, and those around us.

So on this/my Camino and even in my life, I want to run, skip, or stroll to my rhythm as I please.  I want to smile, and know how powerful it can be, and I want to sing if I think it feels right.  And that's how I hope to spend my bad days.

The following morning, two of the younger guys that I've seen on and off, were wearing identical "Hello Kitty" t-shirts that were purchased for them by one of the girls.  The juxtaposition of a fluffy kitten with a pink bow on the t-shirts worn by these "tough" guys had the dormitory hall rolling in laughter and camera flashes  resulting in the immediate increase in morale.  On our way out, we learned by the Hospitalero, or person who looks after the hostel, that one of the female pilgrims was robbed in the city last night and no longer had her cash and credit cards.  We donated what we could to help her continue on her way.

Shelter from the Storm

It's been a few days of lengthy walks on mostly flat ground and featureless surroundings as we make our way to Leon, where we should arrive in two days time. After tomorrow's task of 30 or so kilometers, we'll have two days of walking around 20km that I'll count as my rest days. 

Last week, I was considering bypassing Leon with more mileage in order to avoid the big city. All of that changed when I spent most of my time during the last few days with the same group of new friends. Four are from Spain, one is from Italy and will be pursuing a Ph.D. program in New York this year, and the other is a former German soldier. We all pretty much came on our own and have varied paces that seem to match up for different lengths of the walk. We kind of just uniquely fit together and lately have had dinner every night where we put together whatever we collect from various markets. 

Oh and I should mention that I'm the only native English speaker (again) and the group is determined that I'll be fluent in Spanish by the end of my Camino.  I've been dubbed as their English teacher as well. 

Two of the group members will end their journey in Leon. Due to work requirements, every year they've come out for a week or so to do a portion of the Camino along the different routes.  Though they have limited English, we've spent our walks pointing at random things and repeating their names in both English and Spanish. I use the "thumbs up" sign for pretty much everything and teach it to them too.

Tonight in Terradillos de los Templarios, a former Knights Templar stronghold, it started to storm violently to include large chunks of hail.  We ended up playing poker, board games, and doing magic tricks to entertain ourselves indoors. 

My poor poker skills resulted in learning the term, "Farolerra", since anytime I won I was usually bluffing.  We played Connect Four with a couple from Wales and talked about how we hadn't played that since we were children. One our friends, who walks nearly 40km a day so I'll likely never see him again, taught us a magic card trick that I can't wait to do when I return...if I can remember it. Our German friend showed us a collection of photographs he carries with him which include a photo of his daughter when she was five years old.

Classic rainy day fun, that made me almost forget about the long walk ahead for the next day. Sometimes people are the best shelter, no?

I Would Walk 500 Miles for...

We stopped at a fountain in San Bol a little off track from the Camino route. Legend has it that the fountain has unexplainable healing powers and I figured I'd need all the help I could get.  We did dare eachother to jump completely into the fountain for various amounts of money, but in the end we settled for just our feet. It was absolutely freezing, which made for some great photographs where we had to force our smiles then cringe and whine after the camera shutter was released. And then of course, do it all again for the next person's camera. I met Robin, from Holland, who is walking the Camino for the third time in his life. His first time was with his mother when he was 15.

I still have some time to see if the magic fountain works, but at the time of writing this, I'd like to report that I haven't had a blister since and my Achilles hasn't bothered me for the last two days. Knock on wood!

I was thinking on the day of the fountain, that no matter what, everyone must leave the Camino as a better and somewhat changed person.  It has to take a certain kind of person to walk across Spain, to persevere through all the challenges, be constantly kind to strangers, and to contemplate one's own life in such a spiritual atmosphere even if you aren't religious.  Even if nothing healed from the fountain, or all of one's sins aren't forgiven on this pilgrimage, or if you never keep in touch with the people you meet, you still develop a belief in yourself that probably wasn't there before. And it's for the better, and for whatever walking 500 some odd miles means to you.   

So far I have learned, or at least have a glimpse of, the minimal things I need to be clean and happy. I've also learned the kind of, and priority of, the load I carry that's both physical and emotional. Other things that I hope to learn involve understanding what truly makes me happy and the art of actually being able to recognize and believe in my own happiness. I want to know the differences between a traditional Camino pilgrim and what is truly me. I want to know where to go from the point where the journey ends, or where I can go.

500 miles is nothing when I have to consider the path I'll choose to lead for the rest of my life, and I can only hope that it's filled with beautiful thoughts and things, and moments of healing. 

What would you walk 500 miles for?

The Golden Path

I walked from Burgos to Hontanas for a total of 31.8km. My new longest stretch.  Last night was the main festival in Burgos of San Pedro y Pablo. It may have been the first time in my life that I didn't make an effort to see fireworks. I had always loved them when I was young, although these ones seemed to go on late into the night till around 2am. It's not exactly ideal for the tired pilgrim lifestyle, but who am I to criticize a reason for a party?

It was so interesting to see the Spanish town folk in traditional period clothing for both children and adults, and to see musicians parade through the streets of the old town. The Burgos Cathedral, a World Heritage site whose first stone was laid in 1221, was absolutely breath taking.  I never really imagined myself to be amongst such magnificent gothic architecture or to see the tomb of El Cid. 

Although the trek to Hontanas was long, a cool breeze carried on throughout the day, and made it considerably easy and even beautiful. I entered the Meseta, which has been described as having lonely vast plains of endless crop fields, with little water or shade. Despite this description, I thought the first day was beautiful. The sun shined on the crops turning them gold and the strong winds danced through the fields making them appear like ocean waves. (Pictures to be posted when I have a better computer!)

Coming from the city life, I had never seen anything like it. They say that with the conditions during the walk through the Meseta, it becomes a period when pilgrims really start to look into themselves and contemplate deeply about life.  I'm just happy that my initial Meseta thoughts were happy beautiful ones.

We Have All the Time in the World

Ten days in at the time of writing this and I'm changing up my Camino routine.  I'm still finding my pace!  For one, I think I'm going to walk less than I had planned, depending on the locations of where to stay each night.  My Achilles tendon decided that for me when it started aching more than usual, combined with a bit of swelling that resulted in having to break into my first aid supply of ibuprofen. Not to mention, on today's walk I had to stop briefly after only an hour to sit and rest and let the pain subside.  I decided that it must just be the walk/terrain/my feet and not the weight.  My back and shoulders haven't ached at all from the weight of my pack, which I'm incredibly grateful for.

I also think I'm missing things and a bit of the history that I cross on my path.  I should stop to admire the beautiful Cathedrals, but instead I'm rushing to get to the next point, eating on the go as I walk (which someone pointed out to me was a very American thing to do), and mapping out a schedule to reach Santiago when I know I have more time than I need, even with my hope to go to Finisterra.  It's like I'm holding myself to an imaginary schedule that could be sacrificing the overall experience.  And I have no idea why.

Who am I competing against? How will it change the reward or what am I trying to prove?  It's the first itme in my life that I don't need a schedule, or have any appointments to make, and I made them for myeslf anyway.

I've heard of people who achieved amazing athletic feats on the Camino like running it all in 9 days or walking to Pamplona on the first leg, but none of this to me was ever about the sport.  A couple of times, I've actually caught myself counting my steps or just staring at my feet as walked and completely missing the landscape around me.

So the new rules I want to put into practice are:

1. Walk less/slower (seek a true fulfilling experience in your steps)
2. Don't compete (even if it's just with your self)
3. Look up (except maybe not on the terrible downhill slopes)

My body will get me there if I listen to it, and being broken isn't worth being faster. And I don't think I'll have the opportunity to do this again, at least not in this way with the current status of my life.  I think if I didn't follow these rules and continued otherwise, it would be like I was sleepwalking, but without the dream.

Let it Be

I walked from Grañon to Villafranca de Montes de Oca.  It was about 28km and puts me at the base of the hill I have to climb tomorrow.  I think three days in a row of nearly 30km is definitely the limit. Tomorrow will be a short day, but with a few hills in the beginning. And does anyone know what to do for pain in the Achilles tendon?! Please don´t say, "Stop walking."

I´m staying in a pilgrim hostel, that´s actually a part of a hotel.  The owner had walked the Camino before and now uses part of his hotel as a place for travelling pilgrims.  Around 5pm (when I was in the middle of updating the blog), an incredible storm began and I ran to grab my laundry hanging on the line outdoors.  When I returned, water started actually leaking through the roof and the lights started flickering.  I automatically wondered about my friend Mac (Washington D.C.) who I met last night and said he was going to camp out on this very night on a hillside up ahead.

It´s interesting how on the Camino we so easily start to care about complete strangers and offer them everything from money to first aid to free walking sticks or networking for the future.  I´ve reached a point where I´m seeing less of the people I started out with and meeting more new people each day.  I finally started meeting other Americans after hardly seeing any this whole time, and was told that most of the Americans are a couple days ahead.  I´ve met people who started before or after me, and from all different starting points.  We truly are at our own pace, but it´s hard to think that I may not see some of them for the rest of my time here.  I suppose I just have to let it be.

I spent most of yesterday charting the rest of my Camino.  I came here with a "go with the flow" attitude, then recently started getting more interested in the distances I've been able to acheive each day and where and how far I can go.  I think I may be able to finish in 30 or 31 days to Santiago if my body doesn't break.  I'm not sure if that's normal or not, but I'm also hoping to have enough strength to add on 3 or 4 more days in order to reach the Atlantic to watch the sunset.

I know I shouldn't obsess over the mathematics of it all, and concentrate on the journey, but I think I'm just anxious for the experience.  Maybe for the transformation, or to put all the thoughts I've been having into action, or to just be proud of something (myself?).

I´ve also been considering my own ability to be more open since I don't think I'm very good at it.  I don't really talk much about myself besides my name, where I'm from and where I went to University, or other places that I've travelled.  Maybe it's easier to be more open with strangers because you don't really consider the long term impact or judgement that might occur.  It's like they're each potential psychologists with varying, though questionable, degrees of qualification.  Sometimes, I think they can help you reach a revelation that you may not have gained otherwise.  Still,  I can't seem to get over the fact that although this is a personal journey, I still care what others might think. It seems like I can let the presence of other peoples' lives in my life be, but not so much mine in theirs.  Yet another thing to think through and work on during the walks ahead.

--J

One Day Like This

How I slept that night...

I may have found a place of magic. Tonight I sleep in the loft/attic of the Church of Saint John the Baptist. It's a parish albuergue and the church dates back to the 16th century.

Entering the church balcony

I'm sleeping on a mat on the floor and I can already tell that it'll be close quarters within the inescapable vicinity of snoring, but I think I'll be alright. It's just so beautiful.

I'm glad I walked the extra 8km to Granon when the group I was mostly walking with stayed in the more traditional stopping point of Santo Domingo de la Calzada. I don't think my body can take another nearly 30km walk three days in a row.

View from the balcony

I may have been dehydrated today.  Almost out of water and on the last long stretch of the hottest part of the day, I started having really silly thoughts like:

"If only I had an umbrella, I could be under shade all the time!"

And I may have started singing my favorite tunes from Disney films, but I tend to do that anyway.

A nice Camino-themed door knocker

At one point someone passed by me and said they were surprised I was barely sweating.  This triggered thoughts back to my limited first aid training where I remember that as being a possible sign of dehydration.  Oh and then when I reached the town I completely missed the albuergue sign and kept walking, adding unnecessary steps.

Peeling potatoes

When I finally reached the church and where I was going to stay I walked in and was a bit disoriented by the dark stone corridor that narrowly led up to the common area. I sat down right away just to gain my senses while a pilgrim I knew grabbed my bag off my shoulders. I sat there for a while just coming back to life, looking like a complete mess, while the woman who ran the house and the other pilgrim spoke in Spanish.  At one point she smiled warmly and said something to me. I looked to my friend for translation and he said, "She says you're beautiful."

Dinner that night

That night we all cooked dinner together and afterward meditated and prayed in our own languages in a group in the balcony of the church. I was the only one who spoke in English,  and one of the things I said was to hope that we live spiritually everyday in the way we believe in ourselves on the Camino. I talked about the journeys we took just to get here and how our journeys cross now. I had no idea if people understood, but one person after came up to me, hugged me, and thanked me.

Something for the Weekend

Why not celebrate the end of my first week into the Camino by walking my longest leg of 30km under the hot Spanish sun and waking up at my earliest time at 0430? The day seemed like it would be difficult so I linked up with a group from the start in case I ended up needing some pilgrim encouragement. Oddly enough, the next day asks for only 20 or 21km and I consider doing more to put myself on a fast track schedule. Technically, the faster I am, the more money I save, right? Not sure if my body will agree...or if that's truly the point or a priority of mine for the Camino.

After the walking part of the day is over I decide that doing 30km in 40 degrees Celsius might be the limit. The only pilgrim hostel to stay in has so many bunk beds crammed together in one giant dormitory room that I feel like we should inflate a beach ball and bounce it around like they do with massive crowds in outdoor concerts. I'm not a fan of the tan lines I received from the shadeless walk, and getting sunburned would be miserable so I decide to wear sleeves for the next day even if it'll make me warmer.

Today I thought, "If I'm walking 20+ km each day, does that mean I should be running 10km daily back at home?"

It never seems to work out that way though, does it? Not when you mix in work or social events or everything else that you have in your daily life that you don't have on the Camino. Though I'm sure a renewed sense of time is something that people take back with them when they return home, even if it's just for a little while.

With my mornings here, waking around 5 or 5:30am makes me happy (even though I don't admit it till about 7am), and waking up after 7am makes me think I've completely wasted my morning. Oh and relaxing into bed around 9pm is a joy so I can just write or listen to music or read until I fall asleep. I'm not sure how old any of that makes me sound, but most people I come across who guess my age think I'm five to seven years younger than I actually am.  Let's just hope that comes in handy later on ;)

I think with being here, time becomes a funny thing. We start each day with some kind of schedule in our minds and I feel pretty accomplished  after walking, resting, eating, showering, laundry, writing and exploring. Although, it's the timeless moments of meeting someone worthwhile or seeing something amazing, or reaching some new revelation about your life that you didn't know you longed for, that are the moments you just can't plan for.

She Moves In Her Own Way

A little while ago I realized I´ve walked over 100km.  I had planned in a rest day for today, but it didn´t exactly work. Yesterday when I set off around 0530, my plan was 20km for Los Arcos and I was the first one to leave my hostel room. I ended up walking an extra 8km past Los Arcos to Torres del Rio just because it felt right and it turned out to be one of the best decisions I had made so far.

I ended up having a dinner amongst 10 people with a combined 4 languages. Only one person knew all 4 moderately well, and the rest of us knew only one or a combination of French, Italian, Spanish and English.  It was surreal switching back and forth seamlessly between the different languages and helping others with translation. I may have been in the English with limited Italian category. We were in a medieval pub-like setting, and at one point the background filled with country music.  Everyone looked at me and shouted, "America!" and sometimes called me "Arizona."  At one point, my friend Raymond asked me how I was and I said I was happy because everyone here seemed happy.  Nothing was lost in translation because all we needed was that. 

Raymond is in a group with two women and one of them, named Anna, always smiles so warmly and hugs me when she sees me even though we have no idea what the other is saying if Raymond isn´t there to translate.  They came from Barcelona and told me very convincingly that I must go one day.  Unfortunately the trip ends for them in Logroño and they had to take a bus from Torres del Rio to there because someone in the group had a foot injury.

After hearing about people already going home because of injuries, or having to see doctors when in Pamplona, I had planned a rest day for myself, but it didn´t work.  I walked 28 instead of 20 past Los Arcos to Torres del Rio, and then I walked 20 instead of 10 to Logroño instead of Viana for the planned rest day.  It was probably the best kind of peer pressure I could hope for.  It´s funny to decide you´re done and plan on stopping and then randomly running into someone you met before who just puts the idea in your head of, "What if you went further?"

I suppose it´s just a matter of limits.  I think everything from physical, mental and emotional limits will be encountered here.  Whether I´m fighting my body to let me go farther and faster, or encouraging myself to take step after step knowing I´ve never walked like this before, or missing someone at home terribly and knowng you´re experiencing an unbelievable journey with the dull ache of being incomplete without them.

I don´t think I want to particularly find my limits, but really just see how I fall within the expecations I have of myself.  I´m racing no one, and just hoping to make it.  There´s no prize at the end, but I´m searching for something profound. I believe in my strength and health, but I still take rocky downhill treks slowly and drink ridiculous amounts of orange juice.  Perhaps I´m planning ahead in case those limits are reached, but regardless, everyday I feel more grateful for my body and want to do everything I can to take care of it and be in one piece for the trip home (which seems so far away!).  Lately it´s the little things, and making it past 20km without any blisters feels like someone just gave me a box of chocolates ;)

--j

Songs from my Camino Playlist

Thanks everyone for their recommendations.  Here are some of the songs I´ve been listening to that help get me through the day.  I don´t normally listen to music on the actual hike, since it´s nice to take in the nature and you have to look out for the cyclists, but it helps to listen to music when I´m winding down my day, writing in my journal, or trying to rest through someone´s snoring.

Some but not all of them:

1. The Proclaimers - 500 Miles
2. Johnny Cash - I Walk the Line
3. Oleander - I Walk Alone
4. Counting Crows - Walkaways
5. U2 - Walk On
6. Something Corporate - Watch the Sky
7. Maria Taylor - Clean Getaway
8. Jimmy Eat World - Chase this Light
9. Death Cab for Cutie - You Are a Tourist
10. Nancy Sinatra - These Boots Are Made for Walkin
11. Dashboard Confessional - Everybody Learns from Disaster
12. Bishop Allen - Things Are What You Make of Them
13. Alicia Keys - Superwoman
14. Anna Vandas - What is
15. Cake - I Will Survive
16. Thao with the Get Down Stay Down - Know Better, Learn Faster
17. The Submarines - Shoelaces
18. Taylor Swift - Long Live
19. Ini Kamoze - Here Comes the Hotstepper
20. The Kooks - She Moves in her own Way
21. Barnaked Ladies - Another Postcard
22. Cake - The Distance
23. Noah & the Whale - L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N.
24. Camera Obscura - Let´s Get Out of this Country
25. Foo Fighters - Walking After You
26. All American Rejects - Move Along
27. Badly Drawn Boy - A Minor Incident
28. The Beatles - Let it Be
29. Ben & Jason - The Wild Things
30. Aerosmith & Run DMC - Walk this Way
31. U.N.P.O.C. - Here On My Own
32. Bob Dylan - Shelter from the Storm
33. Bruce Springsteen - Born to Run
34. Crowded House - Weather with You
35. The Chemical Brothers - The Golden Path
36. Fun Lovin´Criminals - We Have all the Time in the World

(Those are just a few from over a 100)

Handle with Care

All poncho´d up. Still smiling.

I walked to Puente La Reina from Pamplona this morning leaving at 6am.  It was around 24km and much easier and relaxing than I thought it would be.  I walked mostly alone and thought about how nice it was to have Natasha to walk with during the first few days.  I realized how nice it was to look after and be looked after by someone.  It´s nice to be amongst people that believe in you and what you´re doing without knowing your whole story.  Natasha helped me at the pharmacy to buy some sports cream for muscle inflammation when my lack of Spanish and wild and extravagant hand gestures failed me--though I´m sure entertained everyone else. 

There were also a few points of low morale during the walk to Pamplona and it was nice to encourage eachother on.  We discussed how during the walk you have a lot of time to think, and sometimes you end up thinking about things that make you lose focus, energy, or happiness. Sometimes it takes more than yourself to get out of those kind of moments.

Entering old Pamplona

Pamplona was a nice stop to get  a good meal (tapas!), but the busy pace of the city and actually seeing someone eye my belongings as if they were going to steal it was a bit overwhelming. I´m not sure if I should work to avoid the bigger cities and opt to stay in smaller villages.  I also haven´t yet figured out a rest plan either.  Should I walk everyday till my body gives out? Take a full day of rest in a larger city? Walk maybe half the day for 10km and rest the remainder of the day at a village inbetween points? I´m still figuring out my physical limits more carefully than I probably ever have before. Getting to know your body on an adventure like this is like the start of a new relationship.  What I found that did help was taking off my hiking shoes and strapping them to my pack for the last hour after I saw on my map that the trail was mostly flat (hooray for minimal map terrain knowledge!). I put on my Tevas sandals.  It resulted in happier feet and I had more energy when we finally reached the hostel where it seemed as though everyone crashed immediately for a midday nap.

On the way to Puente La Reina you walk over the ground where Charlemagne´s forces defeated another army in the 8th century.  The highest point of the day was known as Alto del Perdon, or the Hill of Forgiveness, and the altitude measurements did not make it look too friendly.  I thought it began at this wrought iron monument of medieval pilgrims so I kept walking knowing a huge climb was coming.  When I reached the pilgrim monument, I discovered that I was already at the top of Alto del Perdon and had already achieved the hardest climb of the day.  It was such a relief.  Then of course, there was the downhill part...which my right knee has revealed it isn´t such a big fan of.  I don´t know the background behind the Hill of Forgiveness, but I decided it was forgiving us for such a difficult and steep climb from the first day. I don´t really contemplate about forgiveness too often, but for the majority of the rest of the walk I started to think about the people in my life that I would forgive, or should forgive, and can´t forgive or understand.  I suppose it was an initial glimpse into the aspects of my life that I should let go or sort through to where they don´t bother me as much. I don´t think I´m very good at forgiveness.  I´m shamefully probably better at being the silent grudge and/or runaway type, but maybe today´s walk was a bit of a dent, despite not really reaching any answers.

Tonight I´m staying in a Monastery hostel that I was able to reach by about 1pm. I´ll set off to explore the town soon...particularly to find a US/European adaptor because I think I left mine in Zubiri.  There´s a Romanesque bridge here built at the command of the wife of Sancho III to support the safe movement of medieval pilgrims.  It has six arches that span the Arga river.  It´s amazing to think about the history behind supporting the Camino and the many pilgrims over time.  It makes me miss anyone who has ever supported me in anything I did that I considered great, and showed that they genuinely cared. (Thanks)

--J

Zubiri

Heading to Roncesvalles

Walked with Natasha to Zubiri today from Roncesvalles leaving the hostel at around 7:30am. It was around 23km today and much more relaxing of a walk than yesterday.  The hills weren´t as steep, there wasn´t any rain, and there were villages to stop at in between.

Passing through Burguete, a traditional Navarese village, we see a hotel where Ernest Hemingway used to stay.  Several pilgrims stopped to have breakfast, but we continued on to make the most of our energy and agree to sit for a quick snack later.  At one of our stops I bought a sports drink and an energy drink at this refreshment cart on the side of the road that seemed to be waiting for thirsty pilgrims.  The person running it looked like a traditional Basque man, and though I had to point at everything I wanted to buy, he gave me some chocolate candy as a treat as well.  We sat off to the side in the shade with our shoes off to let our feet breathe as we still had about an hour left in the walk and it would be mostly downhill.

Kittens we found

We decide to stay in Zubiri in a private hostel called Albergue Zaldiko with 8 beds to the room for 10 euro including breakfast. Everyone in our room aside from Natasha speaks Spanish so I smile and say ¨Gracias¨a lot and hope that it´s appropriate enough.  My allergies kick in which means I normally sneeze three times in a row and the man in our room says ¨Salute¨ and asks me what the correct response is in English to a sneeze.  I tell him ¨bless you¨and I have to remind him of this later when he asks again...because I definitely sneeze again. And a lot.

There is also a medieval bridge here called Puente de la Rabia.  Apparently the legend is that leading an animal three times around the arch cures it of rabies.  Not sure when the last time that legend was tested and Natasha always has a laugh when I refer to it as the, ¨rabies bridge¨.

Tomorrow is Pamplona and the end of the Camino for Natasha who has to return to England for work.  I think I´ll spend the day in Pamplona to see what it has to offer as a bigger city in comparison to the other villages along the Camino.  It seems like it would be a nice break even though I´ve just started.

My feet began to ache today a few hours into the day and my hips are rubbing from the weight of my pack.  I´m still hesitant to lighten my load because I am using everything I brought aside from maybe bug spray and nail clippers, which I´m sure will come into use later.  There are so many days left ahead and I´ve decided already that I should do what I can to make the next day easier than the last, whether it´s in my overall attitude or how I adjust my gear.

I may have had my first blister today, but by the late afternoon we were already showered, hand-washed our laundry, and were drinking a beer with our new Canadian and Austrian friends who we hope to see for dinner.

It´s just the second day and I wonder why everyone doesn´t do the Camino.  I´m pretty sure I´ve met both a 17-year-old and a 70-something-year-old.  For some Spaniards, the Camino is a requirement to be on their resume.  For me, a while back, I made it a requirement for my future happiness.  And I hope it works even though my feet and body may not agree.