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!

Day 46: Santa Marina - Cee/Corcubion (5/16/14)

Anne and I had been walking for 3 hours.

It was blistering hot.

We were tired and sore.

Annes ankle was throbbing and swelling before our eyes.

But, we'd had our first glimpse of the sea, so we knew it couldn't be too far now.

We saw one more 'opposite way pilgrim' 

and had yet one more conversation about why anyone would do this to themselves.

This particular pilgrim said he was doing it because this is what he planned,

this was what he had worked for,

this was how he was to do His Camino 

and it didn't matter if he was happy or tired 

or getting anything out of it or not.

Really?

When he moved on, 

Anne and I spoke for a few minutes about the insanity of it all

and then we separated a bit 

for more private reflection and thought.

Within minutes though, 

I had an insight that I wanted to share with Anne.

I turned and found she was right behind me.

I knew she'd had it too.

OMG - that was us!

Those pilgrims who had a plan, 

a calling, 

a vision of themselves 

to the point where it no longer mattered 

whether there was joy or health or learning anymore.

That had been us at work -

head down, 

trudging along the path we felt was ours -

doing what we felt we needed to do -

even to our own detriment.

In fact,

 that had been us at the beginning of our Caminos - 

intent on doing things our way,

according to our plan

and on our timetable!

Although unsure of exactly how and when we had changed,

we were both absolutely certain we were no longer those people.

Anne and I laughed at our shared insight -

and separated again... 

this time with me lagging behind.

I was walking slowly because I kept having the scandalous thought -

I'm done with my Camino.

I wasn't sure what other lessons I had left to learn;

while not ruling out the possibility that God always has more in store for me, 

it suddenly felt far more important to be at the beach

giving thanks for all I'd learned, 

 than walking to the beach.

I looked up and saw Anne coming in my direction.

When she neared, before I could say anything, 

she simply said,

I'm done.

Anne flagged down the next student we saw driving a car, 

asked that she take us to the nearest place where we could get a cab -

and within 45 minutes,

we were on a beach!

My feet were in the Atlantic Ocean and I could immediately feel the blisters healing from the salt water!

There's nothing salt water can't cure:

sweat, tears or the sea.

Can I get an Amen!

I'll admit, my tears were added to the salt water - 

they always are when I get home!

It was a glorious day!

Day 45: Negreira - Santa Marina (5/15/14)

All those conversations and deep thoughts from yesterday?

Yes, they continued...

while set against beautiful backdrops.

Don't you love how the morning light lit up the doorway to the church -

I am the Way and the Light -

as if I needed a reminder!

They might be faint - but do you see those wind mills in the background?

Wind farms are all over Spain - practically on every ridge -
and we should know because we crossed every one of them!

We laughingly called this the Don Quixote Camino - 

because we were forever tilting at or chasing windmills!

Anne and I had been passed by a handful of pilgrims -

walking in the opposite direction of us.

Pilgrims who had walked to Santiago, walked to Finisterre and were now walking back
 to either Santiago or back to their homes in another part of Europe.

These were the uber pilgrims!

And, without exception, 

every one looked haggard, joyless and spent.

Anne and I would engage them in brief conversation, 

sharing some chocolate or an orange with them -

and ask them to share why they were doing this?

What were they getting out of it?

All of them said some variation of:

 "this is what they were called to do; 

this was their vision of themselves, 

this is what they had to do;

this is what they needed to do to stay true to who they are.

Okaaayyy.

Far be it from me to discredit someones calling, 

to disturb their sense of self 

(since my own felt newly minted)

but there something about all of these pilgrims
that niggled at Anne and I as being not right.

They weren't getting any joy or pleasure 

out of their chosen - or ordained - path;

outwardly, it even looked to be self destructive and hazardous to their health.

In a word, it seemed insane.

And we couldn't clarify our uneasiness with this type of pilgrim more articulately than that - 

so we let it go after talking to each one of them.

Paying attention to our own journeys 

was a sufficient challenge without taking on anyone else's.

Day 44: Santiago - Negreira (5/14/14)

Either the hamburger or the grapes were a BIG mistake,

leading to a BIG mess!

I appreciated the irony that the only time I got terrible intestinal illness was in a major city 

and NOT while eating in small towns 

or out in the countryside!

I had a lot of time to appreciate the irony - 

since I was awake throwing up and having diarrhea all night long!

As I crawled back into bed at 5:30, 

I honestly thought there'd be no way I could get up in an hour 

and start walking to the coast.

But, as I heard Anne getting up and ready,

I knew I had to go.

I wanted to go.

Besides, I was damn near out of body fluids by then...

how could there be any more?

I'd take a chance...

Guess what?

My new cure for diarrhea is to walk so much in blazing sun 

that you make yourself even MORE dehydrated 

so there's nothing else for your body to get rid of...

that whole seeing stars thing will only last for a few seconds.

You can also agree blindly to taking whatever the Farmacia person gives you -

and then end up not going to the bathroom for two days!

(I think they were capsules of mini corks!)

Didn't matter how it happened...

I was on my way to the sea -

I was headed home!

This walk to Finisterre leaves behind 95% of the pilgrims who travel to Santiago.

While there certainly were other folks on the path, 

it was a wonderful way to recapture some of the solitude and peace 

of the initial stages of the Camino -

without much of the attendant pain or physical adjustments I'd had back then.

I was SO grateful for Annes presence.

While I can't share all the details, 

her ministry in El Salvador was basically that of collecting horror stories. 

There was a terrible massacre about 25 years ago 

(poor word choice, I know - 

is there any other kind of massacre?).

She was part of the Human Rights Team 

that went in to gather stories from the survivors 

and help collect enough evidence to bring the responsible parties to trial 

(in this case the government of El Salvador).

On a much smaller scale, 

gathering horror stories had been my job too.

There was no doubt -

for either one of us - 

that the Holy Spirit was at work in bringing us together 

as walking companions 

while we sorted all that out;

wrestling with having seen the worst human beings can do to each other, 

yet determined to maintain our faith 

along with a deep desire to see the divinity and goodness in all people. 

Our ministry histories made for some interesting conversations as we walked toward the Atlantic.

(Obviously the sea was also close to her heart, coming from Ireland and Scotland.)

We both were still struggling with  - what comes next?

We didn't necessarily expect any answers; 

it was just nice to have a sounding board that understood 

the scope of the issues that need to be addressed

As we walked and talked, 

my nighttime and early morning illness 

receded further and further into memory.

We met an Irish man, Peter, who walked with us for awhile -

and his story soon joined ours.

His is the kind of tragic Irish life usually found only in novels -

but he had a great smile, a wonderful laugh 

and he physically reminded me of a dear friend 

who had died within the past two years 

and who I still missed everyday. 

We enjoyed our time together - and we promised to see each other at the end of the world.

(Although as he walked off, Anne and I admitted we didn't know

 if that was meant metaphorically or literally.)

Things felt easier on this part of the Camino -

not that we weren't sore, hot and tired;

not that we didn't question why we were doing this -

it just felt like we didn't have to prove anything;

this wasn't because we had to do it -

this was just the icing on the cake - 

something we had chosen to do because we could.

I was also allowed to have a wonderful insight as I headed home to the sea. 

It might not be a revelation to other folks
but, trust me, for me,
it was HUGE.

I am not my job.

Like I said,
this is old news for some of you; 

there are those reading this who have been telling me this exact thing for years;

I had to come to it on my own,
feel it and truly own the reality of it.

In my pre-Camino life, I'd had my family and my job.

I was a mom and I was a social worker;

those were my primary identifiers.

Even if that simplistic definition
wasn't how other people saw me, 

it was how I saw myself.

The Camino helped the scales fall from my eyes.

While I had been given a particular set of skills,
knowledge and life experiences 

that I chose to use as a Social worker
in the Emergency room of a pediatric hospital, 

I am NOT an ER Social worker.
It was my job.

Away from that role,
I still have the same gifts,  

skill set, knowledge
and life experiences as before; 

which I can choose to use -

or not -

in any other capacity I want.

I am me -

and I'm good with that;

actually I'm more than good with that.

I'm blessed.

Like I said -

you all might have mastered this lesson years ago!

I just got it!

Better late than never, right?

Thanks be to God, 

the light dawned.

Santiago continued

Yes, I get it...

we're all sinners -

sleeping under a blanket of cozy flames?

(Insert smile here!)

I enjoyed getting out of the 'tourist' section - 

and discovering that market day was in full force.

I spent hours walking around, 

taking in the sights, smells and sounds -

and buying nothing.

 Oops, not entirely true about buying nothing -

I bought grapes! 

Some fruit other than the oranges, apple and bananas 

I'd ben surviving on for over a month!

I can't tell you how much carrying everything on your back 

changes your relationship to things.

Whatever I saw, either at market or in the stores in Santiago,

the question was always -

do you want that enough to be carrying it with you on your back?

And my answer was invariably, NO!

I think that was one of the reasons why 'slack packers' bothered some of us so much.

They generally were wealthier, 

or they could choose to use their resources 

differently for a short period than we could for a sustained trek, 

but it underscored our perception that the rich never have to bear the full weight of their actions;

they rarely have to carry the consequences of their choices.

Maybe thats just more reverse elitism at work, 

but it certainly felt true for may of us. 

I also indulged at lunchtime,

when I met up with Anne,

and got a hamburger.

It didn't look like any of 'our' hamburgers, 

but I was so sick of bocadillos, 

I was willing to try anything!

I also had a taste of big emotions!