Day 53: Santiago redux (5/23/14)

I returned to Santiago to begin my journey home the next morning -

with flights to

Madrid - Chicago - St Louis

Walking around felt very different this time...

I knew no one I saw in the Cathedral Square; 

I didn't go to the Pilgrim Mass.

It was just a city from which I was catching a flight home.

While I was waiting though,

I chose to explore a completely different part of the city -

a gorgeous park, complete with bookseller stalls, a rose garden

and a tribute to Rosa Castro, the Poet Laureate of Galician Spain.

I was also rewarded with seeing preparation for the Fiesta de Ascension.

You guessed it,

they were preparing for another long holiday weekend!

I won't even bother to drag out my soapbox about that again!

Besides, I LOVED that for celebrating the Ascension,

the predominant feature was a Ferris Wheel!

You know how much this girl loves symbolism!  

Oh, for those of you who are curious:

Yes - I got my 'stuff' back from 'the guy in Santiago that was holding it for me'.
It was simple, cheap and easy;
a great experience and service.
If you want/need his information, email me and I'll be happy to share.
AND
Yes, I bought something in Santiago - a new cross to wear and
in Cee, I bought a new pair of pants to wear home!

I also came home with about 2K of beach glass...
which I found along the beaches in Finisterre.

 I've always loved beach glass -
marveled at how something that's broken and sharp,
through the process of being tossed about and beaten against the rocks,
can have the roughness smoothed away
and its beauty refined, though muted.

I especially treasure this small piece
discovered and given to me by Anne -
a heart that's wounded but intact!

Like I said,

I love symbolism!

I'll probably be posting more on this site as I have reflections/thoughts to share.

In the meantime, however, I have to get ready to go to the reservation on a Mission trip.

If interested, you can follow along here.

When I return, I'll also be posting on my 'regular' blog, found here.

Thanks for following along -

and Buen Camino!

Days 49, 50, 51, 52: Finisterre (5/19, 5/20, 5/21, 5/22/14)

Anne and Peter left the next day to return to their pre-Camino lives

and the rest of their journeys.

I wandered around getting further in touch with my inner beach girl -

although, in reality, she's never that hard to find.

and I imagined a retirement spent in Spain.

I struggled with the language 

but was SO excited one evening when I was SURE I had gotten it across 

that I wanted the dressing on the side

of my avocado and shrimp salad.

And apparently, I did - 

see the packets of dressing in the upper right corner?

There was even another beautiful sunset
although rain completely changed the dynamics of the evening -
as did viewing it alone.

I reflected a lot

and I know there's not a single thing about my Camino I would have changed.

I'm not sure why the Camino chose me;

I'm not sure why I responded and said yes.

I do know it's not for everyone.

But then again, one year ago, 

I wouldn't have believed it was for me either, 

so what do I know...

I do know it was the most amazing thing I'll never do again!

Day 48: Finisterre (5/18/14)

Anne and I walked up to the lighthouse at the tip of Cape Finisterre this morning.

An extra 3.5K from town...

still rocking those kilometers!

Writers about Celtic Spirituality talk about 'thin places' -

those sacred times or locations in which the boundaries that separate earth and heaven are permeable;

when the distinctions between each realm cannot be clearly delineated.

Finisterre, on this morning, 

was the very definition of a thin place.

 It was exquisite.

And, even as the sun rose higher, 

making the boundaries between sea, earth and sky more visible,

a sense of holiness continued.

 And Anne and I joined the thousands of other pilgrims 

who have stood proudly by kilometer marker 

000.0.

There was nowhere left to go -

in Spain at least.

And no, as much as I'd have liked to, 

I didn't burn a set of clothes in the ash pit.

I'm way too frugal for that... 

they'll make excellent gardening outfits!

 It was very important to Anne and I that we not have our backpacks on 

when we walked to the lighthouse.

We wanted to symbolize how much less burdened we were 

at this stage in our journey.

As we were walking back to the albergue, 

Anne was convinced this reflection of trees/bushes in the water 

was a backpacker, 

a pilgrim with an arrow that pointed up to heaven...

guess our journeys will continue!

and, just that suddenly, 

my Camino was over.

Day 47: Cee/Corcubion - Finisterre (5/17/14)

THIS was the view from my balcony at the albergue in Finisterre.

Trust me, if THIS is what the end of the world looks like, 

sign me up forever!

Do you have any idea what a room like this would cost anywhere in the States?

Yet, with a pilgrims passport, 

this view was mine for 12 Euro a night!

No, you didn't read wrong...

12 Euro!

Guess who stayed for 5 days?!

If I had to wait out some time before catching a flight home, 

I'd MUCH rather do it here than in Santiago.

No contest; no even close!

For those who haven't read the very beginning of this blog,

Finisterre is located on the Costa da Morte or the Coast of Death.
It received its name both because there have been so many shipwrecks 
along its rocky shoreline
but also because when people believed the earth was flat, 
this western most point in Spain was the place where they believed the wold ended.
If you sailed into the ocean, from this point, you would sail off the edge.

 It has fine white sand beaches,

shells galore,

 

and a small but busy port -

with lots of great seafood.

Thanks; I don't need to sail off anywhere.
I'm fine with staying put for awhile!

Anne and I walked to the municipal albergue to get our "Finisterre Compostella" -
and decided that, whatever question they asked, we would tell the truth.
They did NOT ask if we had walked the whole way...
for some reason, they asked if we had faithfully completed our Camino.
That was easy to answer - YES!

That evening, Peter, Anne and I walked to a more remote beach 
on the other side of the peninsula 
to watch the sunset.

Peter played his Irish tin whistle as the sun was setting
and the notes lifting over the the crash of sea waves was hauntingly beautiful.
The songs were both plaintive, joyful -
and perfectly Irish!
Perhaps even early Celtic.

Both Anne and Peter placed mementos of loved ones in the sea. 
I put a stone from Iona (Scotland), given to me by friends, back in the Atlantic, 
so it too would have the chance to return home.

We sat quietly together watching the end of a lovely day.

Every second was gift!