We arrived at Castillo de los Templarios just as it opened. Three pilgrims in a Templar castle which covers approximately 16,000 square meters. What a hoot--up the spiral stairs of the turrets--across the bridges--peeking through the artillery windows--climbing the walls--checking out the catapult. I have decided that you are never to old to let your imagination run wild in a gigantic castle. Then of course more walking....
I apologize in advance that my pilgrim story for today will be a bit of a rant. I have been holding this one in for a couple of days and just need to get it out. Ironically, I want to address pilgrim-judging and in doing so am about to judge another pilgrim😕 He is from South Africa. He is retired. He spends considerable time showing our Belgium host pictures on his iPhone of basically what her white-privilege could buy her in South Africa. Then he starts in on his fellow pilgrims. His friend/partner volunteers for the confraternity of St James in Santiago. "Boy, I could tell you stories", he says. REAL Pilgrims don't use bag transport. REAL Pilgrims don't use public transportation. REAL Pilgrims only stay in Pilgrim hostels. I sat quietly, and a bit guilty, as he outlined the Pilgrim "sins", but after a few days of churning about this I would like to add my own Rule--REAL Pilgrims don't judge other Pilgrims. I've now walked every step of over 600km, but if for some reason one foot couldn't place itself in front of the other--I would take a bus. Also, this REAL Pilgrim stayed in a B&B the other night--that's right--with my own bathroom and towels. Oh, and after four days of being on electrolytes and pro-biotics I shipped my bag today in the 31C heat! Oh, oh, ....that's not even the first time...that is the fifth time I've had to ship my bag. I can't be a REFLECTIVE and HEALTHY Pilgrim if Im being a DUMB Pilgrim. Everyone has a story--we need to be willing to listen.....judgement free. You are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom (REAL Pilgrim).
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Last night we had probably the best pilgrim's dinner yet. Great vegetarian paella and delightful company. Our group of six had Canadians (us), a Spanish brother and sister, a German and a Brazilian. We all had one thing in common (besides the Camino)--we had all seen Tina Turner live in concert! On a more serious note our discussion did turn to the Cruz de Ferro as we knew we would be visiting early today. Our German friend has walked the Camino many times before. She says she brings many stones and drops them along the way for people who have "done wrong to her". I asked if she forgives them when she drops the stones. "Some--not yet---some stones I have dropped many times already". For her forgiveness is a process. I carried a crystal and two pebbles to the cross. Here is the story of my stones:
Your Dad adjusts his headlamp as we leave the Albergue. It is early--before dawn--the sun rises as we walk. When we approach the hill there is still a tinge of pink on the horizon, but the sun has fully lit the sky. It is surprisingly simple--a wooden pole with an iron cross placed at the very top. I climb the pile of rocks carrying my stones. First the crystal. A friend, and mentor, gifted this to me the first month of my principalship. It was a good role for me, but a role I found harsh. It is my fourth year of retirement and I when I look back I can still feel the stresses. Today I leave this stone forever at the bottom of the cross. I will not pick it up again. I promise to spend my life living fully. Today and Tomorrow--not yesterdays. The second are my Phil and Bernie pebbles. I wedge them right into a crack in the wood of the base. Your struggles are great, but you are strong--I want you completely covered in the cross. These tiny rocks come from the abandoned well at Lakelet. We missed the Corps gathering this year as we were already on The Way. I take this moment to pray for our Church family. You have seen so much grief. There is no power in the Cruz de Ferro, but I believe there is power in the intention of our heart. I missed my stones as I walked away. My pocket felt empty without them. There was a temptation to run back up the hill and take those stones back under my control. So like human nature. I left them there. You are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. My eyes and soul appreciate that we are back in the mountains--my muscles maybe not quite as much. Do you know that "snap" you feel when you put on 3D glasses? Everything today felt super 3D, but perhaps it is just the huge contrast from days on the Meseta. However, that wasn't even the coolest thing. This honestly happened--we were walking along the path and their was a guy dressed in complete knight-gear offering to let you hold his trained hawk and stamping credentials. You had to wear a giant glove, but of course I did it & of course I got another stamp! And, of course, I have a couple of pilgrim stories for you--one even features Dad and me (along with a fellow pilgrim):
• From the river valley you climb through a woodland to a high point somewhat before Astorga. He calls his "happening place" The House of the Gods. His name is David--he is somewhat of a legend. Tie-dyed hammocks, a meditation circle, and a place to smell the roses. Yes, I mean literally smell the roses--he nurtures beautiful fragrant bushes in the hot rocky climate. Tamed birds and pilgrims alike are snacking from the same plates of fruit scattered around the compound. Whole grain cakes, rice cakes, and peanut butter! We choose smelling the roses along with cake and peanut butter. As we leave I thank him in Spanish--he sends us off with a gesture somewhat between the sign of the cross and a peace symbol (or maybe that is just my imagination). "Love Life", he says. And we keep walking... • We are three pilgrims. We sit on a bench in Astorga between the Cathedral and Gaudi's Castle. Our bare and bandaged feet rest on our backpacks--walking poles cast to the side. We have given up seriously combing our hair a week ago. We spread soft cheese on our bread using our fingers. Bread crumbs start to gather at our feet as we dig in. While we start to Vaseline our feet for the afternoon one pilgrim passes around a sleeve of cookies clearly marked 1€. In struts a well dressed tourist group. They have their ear plugs in and are listening intently to their guide. Suddenly, we hear the word peregrino. Guess what? We are the tourist attraction. One smirking tourist, clearly appalled, stops just shy of taking a picture. Get back in your air-conditioned tour bus Sunshine....because we are going to just keep walking... Fourteen people in my dorm tonight, but I'm pretty excited that we have cots rather than bunks. You are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. Dear HS Friends, Sorry, I had to take this for she-walks so I didn't manage to get in the picture. Did you know they really did hunt with Trained Falcons during Medieval times. What do you think they hunted? Sincerely, Flat L I will praise You with all of my heart.
I will praise You with all of my hope. With all of my life, and all of my strength. All of my hope is in You. In the town of Hospital de Orbigo we crossed the longest ancient bridge on the Camino. It boasts a legend from the 1400's that goes something like this: Guy loves Girl--Girl rejects Guy--Guy spends 30 days on the bridge whacking other guys--Guy goes to Santiago with his "honour restored"--Never gets the girl. We managed to picnic beside the bridge without getting the urge to smack anyone😄 Today was a lovely walk. I am sitting on the veranda of my Albergue soaking in the sun. Here is my favourite pilgrim story from yesterday:
• We have walked together many times before. Yesterday he wanted to talk about home. He was a partner in a successful start-up. His dream was to have an in-ground pool, two kids, and a house in suburban Montreal. He has two sons. He has the house and the in-ground pool. He also had 60+ hours of work, no time with his young family, and unhappiness. Six months ago he made a life changing decision--he sold to his partner and quit. After a few months his wife bought him the guide to the Camino--"Go figure it Out", she said. Has he? Well there is still a lot of Camino left, but at this point he has no idea where his career is headed. Is he happier? While walking he has remembered his first communion. At first, he laughs, he only remembered wearing a great little suit. Then, he started to remember what was in his heart. Now he knows he wants that for his children. So, yes he is happier....and he still keeps walking. Celebration today! Over 500 km walked. You are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. Dear H.S. Friends, I hear you might be going to Medieval Times. Today I was on a real Medieval Bridge where knights fought battles. How cool is that? Sincerely, Flat S. STILL on the Meseta. Not everything is ancient ruins, medieval towns, and endless fields of crops already harvested--just almost everything😀 But this morning on our way out of Leon we stopped at something a little different. The church in La Virgin del Camino provides a 21st century take on stain glass design. As well, the apostles and kings are sculpted in a stylized way that incorporates the Camino shell. The symbol of a pilgrim. Loved It! Feeling great today and I did collect a few Camino stories, but I will save them for later--I want to share one from WAY back:
• He is Italian. His features favour St. Nicholas--almost as old with a little more grey and black in the beard. He does have a belly that jiggles when he laughs...and he laughs a lot. At first we think he belongs with the Albergue, but then we realize that just like us he is a pilgrim. When Dad struggles with a question he drags over a nice young fellow that speaks Italian, Spanish, and English. Next we see him heading off with a wrench to fix a leak in the shower. At dinner he sits at the head of the table appreciating more wine than I think is possible. He is so enjoying the meal that our host brings him a second plate. He treats us like family and he is the papa. He strips to his boxers, crawls into his bunk, and breaks out in a healthy snore. In the morning he sleeps through everyone packing. One pilgrim speculates that he might be dead...but NO the big bear awakens...rubs his belly and declares he has had a fabulous night's sleep. Last seen he was wobbling down the Camino path riding an almost gearless bike with his beard blowing in the wind. Was Papa Camino real? Or perhaps we were in the presence of a very unusual angel unaware. Well, I've washed out my smelling clothes on the washboard. They are hanging on the line. I'm just going to put my feet up and enjoy the sunshine. You are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. Dear H.S. Friends, He-walks loves to pick the wild anise beside the road. The licorice smell really keeps you awake. Have you smelled anise before? Sincerely, Flat L We started our morning as the sun was rising--the air was just slightly crisp with Fall. I am missing the Fall leaf smell from home; so this was perfect. As we walked into Leon the area became more industrial. Fruit shops, mixed with car dealerships, mixed with tiny community parks where old men sat on benches exchanging stories and soaking in the sun. The body did 47 km in just over 36 hours so I am going to share just one pilgrim story before I get my Dominoes Pizza (big city treat) and head to bed early:
• She is from Estonia. We have met several times before. She joined us for Pilgrim's Dinner. She went to school when Estonia was part of the Soviet Union. She studied Russian at school and spoke Estonian at home. Now her children, three daughters, learn Estonian at school and study English and Russian to get better jobs. She also speaks German, French and some Spanish. She walked the Camino last year. Her feet were bad...she had to take the bus. She bought merino wool socks and hiking boots two sizes bigger and her husband has encouraged her to try again. She tells me her parents were divorced and she was raised by her father. I sense there is more tragedy to the story...I sense there is a brokenness. She has just lost two days of walking to fever and was afraid she would have to go home again. She said her spirits were low and she cried. I said I cry because my feet hurt--she laughs. I tell her the tears might help wash away her sadness. I sense she is on the edge of healing. After, she tells me, her husband is meeting her in Barcelona. It has been many years since they have done something like that together. She is beautiful already....as she speaks of her walk she becomes radiant. "As the thunder rolls...I barely hear Your whisper through the rain....“I’m with you”...And as Your mercy falls...I raise my hands and praise..." World class stain glass at the Leon Cathedral. Reflection upon reflection in the early evening light. The Albergue is exceptional. Our own bathroom and real towels. But, of course, in the morning we walk.... You are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. Over 26 km and over 40 000 steps today. Still on the Meseta, which has a wonderful sameness about it. Just put your playlist on, keep your eyes open, and put one foot in front of the other. It is so flat that you can see towns miles away--Always more in the distance than they seem. Then there are those Camino moments that break the rhythm:
• It is 9:30 a.m.--We gather at the tables in front of the bar in the old town for a morning break. ABBA tunes pumping into the street. Rumour has it the churros are almost ready. We talk about our feet, our aches, and our blessings. Simultaneously we all spy a gorilla driving down the narrow street. He slides out of the tiny European car and apes that he needs bananas. The waitress passes a banana to Dad--who passes it out the window to me--who passes it to the gorilla. One happy gorilla--many entertained pilgrims. Finally unmasked the gorilla chats with Dad--he loves Canada, Drake, and the Beibs😀 I suspect this bit of performance art has played out many times, but for today's pilgrims it was just the spark we needed to carry on with a smile. A Gorilla Blessing--sure was--and we just keep walking.... • Many cyclists travel the Camino. Although their requirements are slightly different it is still a tough road. Those of us walking the way learn to enjoy their shouts of "Buen Camino" as they pass. Yesterday was a stark reminder that this journey can be dangerous for those who share the path. The stone simply read "Peregrino Santiago". Manfred Kress , German cyclist pilgrim 60, died on June 9, 1998 at Real Bercianos....and we just keep walking... Pretty basic Albergue tonight--12 bunks per room--part of the experience. Always appreciate the difference ear plugs can make for a good night's sleep. You Are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. |
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Ray & Diane HomewoodSharing the Blessing of Travel Archives
January 2018
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