4/5/12 11:36 AM
Day One: Valencia à
Madrid à
Leon
11:30 AM
I made it! The hard part is over! Getting to Madrid was a breeze (the AVE is SO
fast!) and switching train stations in the city was way easier than
expected. I even had enough time to hang
out in a little café and eat the best bacon and cheese bocadillo (sandwich) of my life! Now I’m enjoying the nice scenery, listening to
a little music, and getting ready to sleep away this 4-hour ride to
Leon. The weather is dreary and the sky is
heavy and gray, but hopefully things will brighten up when I get to Leon. Vamos a ver (We’ll see.)
8:54 PM
Wow, what a day. Aside from the weather, Leon was
beautiful. Lots of impressive,
gothic-style buildings, lots of super old churches, lots of statues of super
old people. Overall, the vibe in Leon
can be summed up with the word old. Nothing overly exciting to do or see, but
definitely interesting and well worth the visit. A great place to start the trip.
Now that the nice summary is out
of the way, I can tell you how my day really
went. Getting here was easier than easy,
but the minute I stepped off that train, all of a sudden it just hit me: I have no idea where I am. Luckily, though, all it took was a glance
down at the sidewalk right outside the station and my problems were
(temporarily) solved by a big yellow arrow pointing me the right
direction. For about the first 100, 200,
300 yards of sidewalk, there were yellow arrows EVERYWHERE: spray painted on
the sidewalk, on light posts, trees and mailboxes. This gave me a false sense of security,
though, because after those first couple stretches of road through the city,
the arrows mysteriously disappeared. I
wasn’t worried, though, because following the Camino was not my goal for the
day—no, today was all about seeing Leon and finding a place to pass the night. I asked an elderly couple at a crosswalk
to point me in the direction of the famous cathedral, the only Leon landmark I
know, and they were very helpful. The walk across the city was nice,
but it didn’t take long for me to realize that I packed way too much. Twenty minutes into my walk and my shoulders
were already sore…there’s no turning back now, though--I’ll just have to
tough it out! Here are a few pictures from my afternoon:
So along the way to the
cathedral, my lunchless stomach kicked in and my priorities were quickly
changed. I decided to play it safe and
get the cheapest, decent-tasting food available and settled on McDonald’s because I've only had it once since I've been in Spain. I got a really awesome hamburger called the
McIberica, which was basically a quarter-pounder with swiss cheese, slathered
with salsa and laid on top of a slice of salted Iberic ham. Delicious.
And to complete the combo I got fries and a cold beer. The whole beer-at-McDonald’s thing will never
get old to me! Check it out:
After lunch I set off for the
cathedral and found it rather easily.
The whole thing was extremely impressive from the outside, but the
inside was the really cool part. Have a
look for yourself:
Awesome, right? It was the most incredible stained-glass I’ve ever seen in my life!
From there, I continued walking
around the city, now in search of an albergue or hostel or anywhere cheap
to spend the night. This is where my day
got really frustrating. I must’ve asked
about four or five separate shop-owners if they knew where any albergues or
hostels were, and they ALL sent me off towards different plazas where they
swore I would find one. Not only did I
not find the albergues they were talking about, I couldn't even find the plazas! So I decided to then ask a police officer,
who pointed me up a really big hill and said that I would find another police
officer at the top who would be able to show me exactly where to go. So I made the long walk up the hill with my too-heavy backpack, and when I got to the top and found the parked cop-car with two
officers inside, I asked them if they could show me where the albergue
was. And guess what they said? “It’s at the bottom of the hill.” Unbelievable!
So I walked all the way back down, asked a few people on the streets if
they knew where it was, and none of them knew what I was talking about. Ugh! Now I have to start all over! So I
continued wandering around and actually sort of just happened upon another
one of Leon’s main attractions: one of Antonio Gaudi’s (architect who designed
all those awesome buildings in Barcelona) only buildings outside of
Barcelona. Pretty cool stuff. Check it out:
I’m going to skip ahead to the end
of the day for the sake of time and precious battery life:
I eventually found what I was
looking for: an old convent-turned-albergue nestled
away in one of the smaller plazas near the city center. The man at the front desk was super nice and
set me up with everything I need: a bed, a sheet, and my pilgrim’s passport that
I’ll need for the rest of the trip. Perfect.
After dropping off my pack, I headed back out into the city to check out the
Semana Santa festivities that I had heard people talking about all day. I found a big crowd lined down one of the
bigger, busier streets near the albergue, and ten minutes after I had found a
good spot in the back row, this parade came drumming towards me:
Pretty interesting stuff. How often do you get to see a Klansmen play the tuba?! What a unique cultural experience it was!
At the very
end of the parade, the skies finally opened up and I had to run back to the
convent. Tired from the busy day, I
decided to try to get to bed early. The bed room is exactly what I expected—a
room full of old, creaky, metal bunkbeds—but the smell is what really punched me in the nose and welcomed me to the pilgrim’s experience. As you can imagine, the room is filled with
men all older and more European than me, who haven’t bathed or washed their
clothes in days, possibly weeks. Their
socks and shirts, wet from sweat and walking in the rain, are hanging off the bed posts to dry out in the stale, musty air, and “the boot room,” where all the pilgrim's leave their stinky shoes, is right here next to me, just around the corner! You cannot even begin to imagine
what this place smells like! All I know is
that it’s gonna be a very long night and I'd better get to sleep before this place turns into a symphony of
snoring! Oh boy!
4/6/12 Camino Day 2
9:15 AM
Sleeping was actually rather
pleasant last night once the smell of old socks died down a bit. The guy on the bed next to me—and when I say
next to me, I mean our bunks were physically touching—gave an all-star snoring
performance. I woke up four or five times throughout the night, but I actually
enjoyed the feeling of falling asleep again and again. At 6:45 I was woken up by a raucous of
zippers and snaps and squeaky sandals, so I got up too and brushed my teeth and
packed my things. Breakfast was nice but
very simple: white bread with jelly and a cup of café con leche. The little dining room was a constant flow of
pilgrims coming and going, speaking all kinds of languages across the table,
and yelling “Buen Camino!” as they headed out to resume their journey. I washed my dishes and double checked my bed,
filled my water bottle and double checked again, then asked for directions to
the bus station and was out the door and into the dark, drizzly city by
7:15. I had to ask two police officers
for help along the way, but I eventually made it to the station easily enough and bought my
ticket to Astorgas, the next city over, about an hour away. I had unfortunately just missed the first bus
of the day and the next one didn’t leave until 10:30, so I killed time by
wandering around the city for a while, where I eventually found the single
coolest playground I have ever seen.
Though I am 20 years old, I am not embarrassed in the slightest to say
that I played on the playgrounds (five or six connected by little bridges and
paths) for a solid hour! I’ve said it
once and I’ll say it again—the playgrounds here in Spain are just plain
cooler than back home! Here, check it out for yourself:
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| simulates a skateboard halfpipe |
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| spins you around like a top when you stand on it and hug the pole |
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| better than a tire swing |
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| can little kids really do this?! |
So after being a kid for a while, it started to rain a little and I grabbed my pack and headed to
the McDonald’s that I ate at yesterday, which is where I am right now as I'm writing this. I bought a four-piece
chicken nugget meal and set myself up in the same booth I ate in yesterday. I have about an hour left until my bus
leaves, and after that, the adventure really begins!
As much as I enjoyed my stay in
Leon, I’m excited to get out of the city and really start the Camino. Though the sky is completely gray and the sun
nowhere in sight, I just wanna get out there and start walking!
8:33 PM
Hell is the easy way to describe my day
today, short and simple:
The bus ride from Leon to Astorga
was of course very easy and very quick, but as soon as I stepped off
and grabbed my bag, I was once again stalled by the fact that I have no idea where I am--an uncomfortable feeling
indeed. Add to that, too, the fact that
it was rainy and cold, and my experience in Astorga was all together miserable. I asked directions in a souvenir shop, but
once again, for some strange reason, the directions were not at all
correct. So I wandered around this
small, decently-interesting but unexciting city, in the cold rain, for a solid hour or so until I found my first
yellow arrow, which was of course pointing the opposite direction I was walking. Very frustrating. So I retraced my steps, stopped by a pastry
shop and bought some empanadas (one ham and cheese, the other chicken and
peppers) and one chocolate cream-filled donut, and eventually found my way out
of the city. Along the way, though, I found
two incredible pieces of architecture that boosted my spirits for the
moment. Check it out:
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| Catedral de Astorga |
 |
| The *other* Gaudi work outside of Barcelona: Palacio Episcopal |
Undeniably cool. After snapping a few pictures in the rain, I
looked at the still-darkening sky and thought about my computer and my passport
and other valuable things, and decided that I had better find a plastic cover
for my pack before continuing on.
Luckily, this proved to be my only success of the day, as the first
store I found sold me a GIANT poncho to cover not only me, but also my pack,
making me look like a plastic hunchback
Time to start walkin'.
Time to start walkin'.
The rain slowed to a drizzle as I left the city and followed the yellow arrows along the highway spanning
through farmland-nothingness. A few
bicyclists passed by and gave me a “Buen Camino!” as they cruised by, but
other than that, I was completely alone.
The road was long and the sidewalk bumpy, so my feet
started to hurt a bit (I’m wearing indoor soccer shoes!)
and once again, about one kilometer into the lonely walk, I was reminded by the sharp pain in my shoulders that I definitely overpacked. Of course in hindsight, it’s so obvious:
4 pairs of pants, 4 shirts, 5 pairs of underwear, 6 pairs of socks, and 2 pairs of shoes is beyond enough for a 10-day trip, but it still doesn’t make
sense to me why it weighs SO much!
Anyway, so I continued walking on
and eventually the rain stopped completely and I pushed back my hood. The landscape was nothing much to look at:
lots of empty fields and farms and thin forests with mountains off in the
distance. When it came time for my first
turn, I veered off the paved road and onto a gravel trail leading off to more
nothingness. There were two other
pilgrims ahead of me a good bit, and except for them and the occasional pair
of bikers, we were the only people for miles.
It was a strange feeling whenever a hill in the trail came and the other
two disappeared and I was left completely alone in the
middle of nowhere for a few minutes.
Lots of awful what-if scenarios came to mind, and the cold, gray sky sure didn’t help…
Over the course of the day—from
about noon when I left Astorga, until about 5 when I finally found my albergue
in a small town 22 km away—the scenery changed only slightly. The trail turned from gravel to pavement to
cobblestone to dirt, and throughout it all, I was constantly reminded that
I was not at all prepared for this journey.
My pack was a very, very intense strain on my back, and even as I
experimented with other ways to carry it—shifting the way from my shoulders to
my arms to my lower and upper back—the pain was always there. In addition, the Sambas don’t actually hurt my feet since they’re
very well broken in, but they don’t do well at all with wetness, so all day I suffered that uncomfortable squishy-sock feeling. Very unpleasant. I passed through a few small towns where I stopped and relieved myself from the immense stress and refill
my water bottle. But just as quickly as the cities came and then went, I was once again back on the dirt road, alone, in the middle of nowhere.
 |
| Looks like the Three Little Pigs finally moved in together... ...still couldn't get that roof right, though. |
Around 4:30 I came to a sign that
told me the next nearest city was 2 km away, and that the one after that was
another 15. The decision was easy, and so I turned off the trail and entered the small city of Rabanal de Santiago. The town sits on top of a pretty good hill,
and at the top, after passing a slew of restaurants and bars advertising to peregrinos (pilgrims), I found my
albergue for the night:
I talked with the owners for a bit and they were very nice and, seeing that I was very tired and down in spirits, brought me a cold beer right away. Awesome. I paid the five euros for the night and they showed me to my bunk inside a big room just like the last. Here’s what it looks like:
I was excited to get out of the
cold and change from my wet clothes and take a nice, warm, soothing shower,
but the water was furiously lukewarm and the bathroom itself was open-aired and chilly. Putting on dry clothes was a
good feeling though, and when I laid down on my bunk to close my eyes and rest
for a little, I passed out immediately and woke up about an hour later.
I went to dinner around 7 at a
restaurant very near the albergue. I sat
at a table by myself and ordered the Menu del Dia—a bowl of stew, a plate of bacalao (cod) in tomato sauce, with
bread, wine, and chocolate mouse for dessert.
The food was good and for 10 euros I was happy. Afterwards I went
outside to head back to the albergue, and guess what I found?
SNOW.
Yes, right now it is snowing in Rabanal de Santiago, Spain! As exciting as that is, I can’t help but be
worried since I planned for a hot, sweaty pilgrimage and only packed two pairs
of pants, one long-sleeve shirt, and one hooded sweatshirt.
The walk back made my teeth chatter and my fingers numb, and I really, really hope the sun’s out tomorrow
because I don’t know how much more cold I'll be able to handle!
So now I’m just sitting on my bunk
in the warm bunkroom, writing this and thinking about tomorrow. I’m pretty sure I’m going to jar awake at least
once in the middle of the night from a cramp somewhere in my body. Every muscle is crying for recovery and I can
feel that I’m dehydrated and desperately need to get to sleep. I sure hope tomorrow is better! The only thing I have going for me is that
tomorrow is my first FULL day of walking—dawn to dusk—so I can take my time a
bit more. I’m not quite sure that’s a good thing, though: the more time I have to carry that stupid
backpack, the more painful it's going to be.
And I already hurt so much!
Oh well—better get some sleep I guess.
Until tomorrow…
4/17/12 Camino Day 3
9:44 PM
Today was one of the craziest days
of my life. Listen to this:
So I got up this morning around 7,
bumped my head on the bunk above me, and rolled out of bed to pack my things. Breakfast was a two-euro sausage sandwich
that I ate half of and wrapped up the rest to eat later. At 8 I said goodbye to the owners and gave a
“Buen camino!” to the dining room and was on my way. What I found outside was nothing like I
expected…
The little town that I stayed in
had a light dusting of snow from the night before and looked pretty and
picturesque and all that good stuff. The
temperature was at least freezing, and because all I have to stay warm are some courdoroys and a hoodie, I knew from the start that it would be a long day…
The way out of the city was long and
uphill. The yellow arrows pointed me the way and eventually led me off the cobblestone streets and onto a
snow-covered trail. I followed this for a while, sloshing around in my soccer shoes, all the
time still climbing up and up and up.
When I say that the trail was covered in snow, though, I mean REALLY
covered. It slowly turned from a “light
dusting” to full-blown feet of snow
on either side of me. The landscape was
absolutely covered in a thick white, and as I continued climbing, it only got
worse. Here, see for yourself:
 |
| the fog was INTENSE |
The trail leveled out once or
twice or maybe three times, but on
the whole this morning was two or three hours straight of mountain climbing
in the snow. My pack was heavy, my feet
were wet, and my fingers were numb, and about half way through, to make things
worse, the sky decided to let it snow again. The more I climbed the worse it got—the worse
it hurt as the tiny fragments of ice whipped across my face and eyes—and it got
to the point over one stretch where I couldn’t even see the other pilgrims in front of me. This gave
the illusion of being completely alone again--this time on a snow-covered mountain--and once
again my mind was plagued with terrible what-if scenarios…
So after an hour or so of that, I finally came to a leveled out
area where a bunch of people were gathered. As I got closer I realized where we were: La
Cruz de Hierro (The Iron Cross). We
learned about the important site in my culture class and then saw it in the movie The Way, and what happens is each
pilgrim takes their turn to climb the mountain of stones leading up
to the tall wooden pole with a small iron cross at the top, which marks the
highest elevation point on the entire Camino. The little
mountain of stones is the cool part though, because each pilgrim brings a rock with them from home or from the beginning of the trip-- representative of their past--and when they drop the
stone at their feet as a symbol of repentance, they are relieved of
all the past negativity in their lives. When it was my turn, I dug into my pocket and
pulled out my stone, which I had just happened to pick up along the way because
it looked kinda cool. Here's what it all looked like:
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| the mountain is entirely made of stones left by pilgrims over the years, but you can't tell because of the snow |
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| the only stone I had with me at the time |
Since the cross marked the highest point on the entire Camino, it was literally all downhill from there. The trail was still snowy, but after about an hour or so it was more slush than ice, and then from there just mud. It was strange feeling when I suddenly realized all the snow was gone. Was that horrible climb through the snow…was that today? Was that this same day? Check it out:
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| free coffee and cookies for pilgrims |
What happened next is easily the most pivotal moment of my entire journey. The same guy that took the picture for me, as we walking down the shoulder of a steep, winding section of country road, turned and asked me out of nowhere, "So what brings you to the Camino?"
His name was Scott and we was 29 years old. Born and lived his whole life is northwest New Jersey, and started his Camino in Bourdeaux, France after finishing up a year of teaching English in Korea. We got to talking and very quickly realized that we had much in common in terms of our past and especially the past several months of our lives. We walked the rest of the day together, down the rest of the mountain and out of the snow completely, and ultimately decided to stay the night in the town of Ponferrada. Scott is a very important character.
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| El Castillo de Ponferrada |
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| albergue |
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| Me, Scott (left), and our Canadian friend Matthew cooked a big pasta dinner together. |
Camino Day 4 4/8/11
11:21 PM
11:21 PM
I guess I'll need to make these
entries shorter since my time for writing is diminishing with my energy. In that case, this is what happened today:
Scott and I left the albergue in
Ponferrada around 8, walked through and out of the city, and made our way into the
Spanish countryside. By 11, I was given my
first sight of the sun in days. Having come from a day of gray sky back in
Valencia to a day of rain in Astorgas to a day of cold and snow in the mountains,
seeing the sun today was nothing short of amazing. The best feeling ever, actually. I felt like I hadn’t felt true warmth in
forever. But not only that, I felt like
the world was alive again: the birds were chirping, the flowers were vibrant
and beautiful, the grass was green, the whole world was glowing with energy. It was simply amazing. That’s all I can say about it. And not only was it sunny, but out of
nowhere, the sky cleared up COMPLETELY, without a cloud in sight, and the
warmth was just there beating down us, giving us life and energy and happiness
and reward. What a great day it was.
So during our walk in the
sunshine, we passed through a number of incredibly cool, small Spanish towns,
and around lunch time, we decided to stop in at a place called "The Octopus House." Before I
left, my teacher told me that around my third day I would be getting into
“pulpo pais” (octopus country) and that even if I didn’t like octopus, it would
be a complete shame if I didn’t at least try it. So I easily convinced Scott and octopus for lunch it was.
And let me just say that it was absolutely delicious. Check it
out:
So, so awesome. The chewiness was a bit much to handle at
first, but the seasoning was phenomenal and the liquid-sauce that it sat in and marinaded with made it even better. Eating
it with the bread was the perfect balance to the weird, slimyness of it,
and overall, I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I’m glad that Scott and I decided to split
the small platter of it, though, because I definitely could not eat any more, but as it
was, I enjoyed it and I’m really glad that I tried it.
From there, we continued on and
passed more olive gardens and vineyards and farms and mountains and
grasslands. Here are a few pictures of
the scenery:
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| happy to have a shadow again |
The landscape was so beautiful that Scott and I eventually decided that we needed to stop and sit down and soak it all in for a few minutes.
The day was perfect in all regards: warm enough to take off my sweatshirt
and wrap it around my shoulders to ease the pressure of my pack, and it even
got to the point where I had to roll up my pants and continue on Huck
Finn-style for the rest of day. It felt so good to finally sweat!
Along the way we passed by two slow-walking girls--one French, one German--and we slowed our pace and walked with them for a
while. They spoke decent English
and a little bit of Spanish, so the conversation was pretty basic but interesting nonetheless. Around 4 we came to the
prettiest town of the day and the four of us decided to stop in at a bar and
have a few beers outside in the sun. The weather was great, the people were great,
the environment was great--all of it was
so new and so foreign and so different from anything I had ever experienced
before and it was so completely
perfect. Amstel Light has never tasted
so good…
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| French on the left, German on the right |
 |
| guess who got the wine... |
Over those last beer-aided kilometers, the four of us covered a bit of politics, philosophy, culture, society, and everything in between, and the difference between us all from our own unique backgrounds was altogether fascinating. The conversation was great and entirely entertaining, and as we danced from
subject to subject and passed the bottle of vino tinto around, things only got
more interesting. My pack has never been
so light, 10 km has never passed so quickly…
Tonight we made a big pasta dinner again and listened to our Canadian friend Matthew play a medley of classic songs on the guitar he carries with him everyday. Dinner was great, the music was great, the wine was great, the conversation was great. I can’t say much more than that: a great end to a great day. Today was the best day I’ve had so far. I hope tomorrow is more of the same. Until then…
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| lookin good |
Tonight we made a big pasta dinner again and listened to our Canadian friend Matthew play a medley of classic songs on the guitar he carries with him everyday. Dinner was great, the music was great, the wine was great, the conversation was great. I can’t say much more than that: a great end to a great day. Today was the best day I’ve had so far. I hope tomorrow is more of the same. Until then…
Camino Day Five 4/9/12
10:01 PM
10:01 PM
Another great day--the scenery was spectacular beyond
belief! We started the morning by
leaving town at 8, and made it up and into the main climb by 10. We took a coffee break around 11, and from
there started the ascent, and from there it was completely uphill. Check it out:
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| a really mean dog |
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| awesome breakfast with an awesome view |
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| There are stacks of rocks like this all over the Camino. I always add one more. |
Scott and I branched off from Matthew and the others early on and and delved deeper into the philosophical, purpose-of-life chatter we had started the day before. After a few hours of thoughtful back-and-forth, we were presented with a rather mystical encounter with three very wise Spanish men sitting in a field at the peak of the climb. They acted as the living teachers to the lessons we had been talking over and trying to settle for the past day and a half, and as it just so happened, their simple-spoken lesson solidified everything to the fullest.
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| Three Wise Men |
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| purple mountains majesty |
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| Scott and I split up for a few minutes to go off and relax on our own, and when I turned around to see what "relax" meant for him, this is what he was doing. "When I'm active, I'm at peace." |
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| a breathtaking view |
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| officially into Galicia, the northwestern province of Spain |
We walked onwards, now slower than
ever, taking in every last sensory stimulation from the world around us as we could, and eventually we arrived at the hilltop town of O’Cebreiro, where we bought a plate of chorizo
(sausage) and a bottle of wine and enjoyed it with a few other pilgrims and the most
magnificent view I have ever seen. Check
it out:
We took it easy up there for a while, then continued on and found an albergue just a few kilometers away on the other side of the mountain, where we decided to call it a night after a long day of hiking.
Camino Day Six 4/10/11
7:49 PM
7:49 PM
Today was hard: lots of rain, lots of pain, not much
gain. The wind was the most intense I’ve
ever experienced, and that, added to the cold, dreary wetness and the fact that
our climb was all downhill (much harder on the knees and ankles) made for a rather miserable 20 km.
In the small town of Sambos, Scott and I popped into a bar to get out of the rain and grab a bocadillo (sandwhich) and a beer. Afterwards, seeing that it was still dark and rainy and miserable outside, we decided to just call it a day and check into the albergue next door. I took a very long, very hot shower and then napped for a few hours. When I woke up, Scott and I walked in stiff, slow-motion to the little market in town, bought our stuff to cook dinner (pasta, tuna, peas, lentils, a loaf of bread, 2 bottles of wine, 2 bars of dark chocolate) and walked back to the albergue. We just finished dinner a few minutes ago (very, very dry but very, very filling) and now here I am, in my bunk (top) wrapped up in the red comforter and reflecting on the past few days and those still ahead. The forecast is rain for the next 3 days and I can’t help but feel depressed about that. Our short day today means we’ll have to hit 30 km for every day here after, and if it rains like it did today, that will be very difficult--more mentally than physically. Though I am more sore than I have probably ever been in my entire life, I feel okay about it. Morale is low but I know some rest will do me well. Until tomorrow.
A few pics from Sambos:
In the small town of Sambos, Scott and I popped into a bar to get out of the rain and grab a bocadillo (sandwhich) and a beer. Afterwards, seeing that it was still dark and rainy and miserable outside, we decided to just call it a day and check into the albergue next door. I took a very long, very hot shower and then napped for a few hours. When I woke up, Scott and I walked in stiff, slow-motion to the little market in town, bought our stuff to cook dinner (pasta, tuna, peas, lentils, a loaf of bread, 2 bottles of wine, 2 bars of dark chocolate) and walked back to the albergue. We just finished dinner a few minutes ago (very, very dry but very, very filling) and now here I am, in my bunk (top) wrapped up in the red comforter and reflecting on the past few days and those still ahead. The forecast is rain for the next 3 days and I can’t help but feel depressed about that. Our short day today means we’ll have to hit 30 km for every day here after, and if it rains like it did today, that will be very difficult--more mentally than physically. Though I am more sore than I have probably ever been in my entire life, I feel okay about it. Morale is low but I know some rest will do me well. Until tomorrow.
A few pics from Sambos:
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| monastery |
Now for some personal thoughts:
Scott and I have been
“philosophizing” for the past 4 days and today I showed him his breaking
point.
He hasn’t been the same
since.
He says his mind just exploded—says it’s something like the mental version of when you eat too much food at Thanksgiving and then that final bite of mashed potatoes suddenly puts you over the limit. You either puke or go into a food coma. He says that it was like I just snuck up behind him and smacked him in the back of the head with a board--whack!
The interesting part is that at first I got to watch the overflow—the bursting of the dam—set in and boil over as he just started yelling and making random noise with no idea what to do. A few minutes after that he fell completely silent. Then after that he got angry and just started chanting over and over and over again “What's the point?” He was genuinely distraught.
Then, though, when we got to the bar and had lunch, he was suddenly able to look at the situation objectively and laugh about it and talk about like I've explained above. But from there, when we got to the albergue and took our showers immediately, his must've been 45 minutes long. Afterwards, as I laid in bed with my eyes closed, thinking about the pain I was in and how glad I was to be out of the rain and not on my feet anymore, he came in and sat down on his bunk, motionless.
A few minutes later I heard him start crying, not quite sobbing. After a couple hard sniffles and deep breaths, I said without opening my eyes “Yo, you alright down there?” He toughened up his voice and said in that confident New Jersey accent, “Yeah, yeah.” But he obviously wasn’t. A few quiet minutes later, nowhere, he said my name strongly and I opened my eyes and answered. He stood up with big, sad, teary eyes, and said to me more honestly and deeply than anything else on the whole trip, “You cracked me, dude, you cracked me.” He reached out his hand and grabbed mine tightly, almost like he was congratulating me for some reason. Or maybe thanking me. And then he said, “Tomorrow you go on, but when you do, take this advice with you: only when you teach will you learn.” And I smiled and nodded and we squeezed hands one more time and finally he just sat back down and we both fell asleep.
He says his mind just exploded—says it’s something like the mental version of when you eat too much food at Thanksgiving and then that final bite of mashed potatoes suddenly puts you over the limit. You either puke or go into a food coma. He says that it was like I just snuck up behind him and smacked him in the back of the head with a board--whack!
The interesting part is that at first I got to watch the overflow—the bursting of the dam—set in and boil over as he just started yelling and making random noise with no idea what to do. A few minutes after that he fell completely silent. Then after that he got angry and just started chanting over and over and over again “What's the point?” He was genuinely distraught.
Then, though, when we got to the bar and had lunch, he was suddenly able to look at the situation objectively and laugh about it and talk about like I've explained above. But from there, when we got to the albergue and took our showers immediately, his must've been 45 minutes long. Afterwards, as I laid in bed with my eyes closed, thinking about the pain I was in and how glad I was to be out of the rain and not on my feet anymore, he came in and sat down on his bunk, motionless.
A few minutes later I heard him start crying, not quite sobbing. After a couple hard sniffles and deep breaths, I said without opening my eyes “Yo, you alright down there?” He toughened up his voice and said in that confident New Jersey accent, “Yeah, yeah.” But he obviously wasn’t. A few quiet minutes later, nowhere, he said my name strongly and I opened my eyes and answered. He stood up with big, sad, teary eyes, and said to me more honestly and deeply than anything else on the whole trip, “You cracked me, dude, you cracked me.” He reached out his hand and grabbed mine tightly, almost like he was congratulating me for some reason. Or maybe thanking me. And then he said, “Tomorrow you go on, but when you do, take this advice with you: only when you teach will you learn.” And I smiled and nodded and we squeezed hands one more time and finally he just sat back down and we both fell asleep.
That’s what the big moment today.
Camino Day Seven 4/11/12
7:51 PM
7:51 PM
Another long day. Weather wasn’t great (grey skies throughout)
but the walk was pretty and very enjoyable.
Full-blown rain never actually fell--just drizzles—and the crisp air kept
my mood up and my feet moving. Scott and
I reached the next town over (about 10 km) and after buying an empanada and a
donut for the road, he dropped a giant bomb on me: “I’m staying here, man. You go on.”
We had been philosophizing together for four days straight and our heads
were on the verge of explosion. His
already had, actually, and mine was close When he said this to me, though, I
sort of expected it in a way, knowing that we weren’t meant to walk together
the entire time. Regardless, it was an emotional moment.
We clapped hands and hugged and thanked each other deeply. Our 4-day conversation had taught us both so
much and I
think it was our reciprocal teacher-student relationship that made it work so
well. We realized early on that we were
basically the same person--"cut from the same fabric" as he put it--but we also recognized
that everything we talked about so passionately with each other was really just be reflected
back to ourselves. Every question we
asked was a question we were asking ourselves. Every thought we said out loud for the other
to question and add to and say “go on” to, was just that—thinking out loud—and
we realized on the last day that all we really were to each other was a person
to say “yes, keep going.” We had learned
so much about ourselves, and at the end, Scott gave me his heart-shaped rock
and his walking stick and told me I was the best teacher he had ever had. “Likewise,” I said, “you’ll always be a part
of my story” and then I smiled and walked away through the city.
So without Scott anymore, I
carried on through the next three of four small towns without stopping. My camera randomly broke about halfway
through, so I guess I’ll need to buy a new one in the next few days. Bummer because the scenery was great and the
trails were awesome (muddy and rocky and winding through the woods and over
rivers and all kinds of cool, natural stuff like that) and the grey sky was
always there telling me to hurry up. I walked a total of 34 km—the most I’ve
done in a single day so far—and when I walked into the albergue in Portomarin,
my legs were shaking and my shoulders completely numb with pain. I paid the 10 euros and immediately took a
shower, then dressed and went to the bar-restaurant upstairs where I ordered the
Pilgrim’s Menu: vegetable soup, grilled
chicken with fries, bread, beer and water, with a lemon tart for dessert. I savored every bite and sat by myself
on the big indoor patio overlooking the river and the mountains behind it, and by the end of the meal I was absolutely
stuffed and could barely keep open my eyes.
And now here I am, in bed, in a small room with three German strangers, trying my hardest to dig for details for you before I pass out. Here are a few pictures from the day:
My plan from here on, since I was
able to cover so much ground today, is to walk 30 km a day for the next 3 days,
then on the fourth and final day (10th overall) I'll wake up early and walk the final 10 km
into Santiago in time for the Pilgrim’s Sunday Mass.
And now here I am, in bed, in a small room with three German strangers, trying my hardest to dig for details for you before I pass out. Here are a few pictures from the day:
 |
| these grain barns called horreos (or-ay-ohs) are all over Galicia |
Camino Day Eight 4/13/12
7:06 AM
7:06 AM
Yesterday was another long,
demanding day. I’m writing this the next
morning because I was so exhausted after dinner last night that I fell asleep
at 7:30. Absolutely exhausted. For some reason I decided to walk 40 km
yesterday—a new, painful record—and as I hobbled into town around 5 o'clock, I thought
to myself, “Why did I just do that?” I
still don’t know. The easy answer is so
that I don’t have to have any more long days after this: with ~50 km and 3 days left, the
final push for Santiago will be easier than any day I’ve done so far. Two 20k days and a 10k into the city will get
me there when I need to and that’s very
encouraging, but still...I am in so much pain.
The eleven hours of sleep did me well last night and I woke up a bit less
sore this morning, but the weight of my pack hasn’t changed and will continue to keep me down…
I must sound like I’m very down in
spirits, but I’m really not. As I rolled
into town yesterday, I was extremely pleased to find that it was the most
beautiful town I’ve seen so far and easily my favorite that I’ve spent the
night in. Coming in, I crossed an old,
stone bridge that led into the “antiguo” (antique/ancient/old) section with
winding cobblestone streets and collapsing houses and chickens and cows and
pastures everywhere. The sky had finally
decided to clear up completely and the sun was shining and the birds were
singing and it was like a dream—a satisfying, rewarding dream. Through the incredible old section, I asked a
trio of old ladies sitting on a bench if they knew where the albergue was. The one in the middle rambled on a long, stuttering explanation, and at the end, as my face surely read that I
had not understood a single word, the lady on the left smiled and made it
easy for me: "a half km on the left." I smiled and said thanks and continued on my
way, and before I knew it, the town wasn’t so ancient anymore. The broken down buildings grew and the farms
disappeared, and though different old ladies were still there, sitting, watching the
traffic from every bench I passed, the general population was younger and soon
I saw backpacks and walking sticks everywhere.
I made my way to the roundabout in the city-center and took it all in:
statues and fountains at every intersection, fruitstands and bars lining the
busy, bustling streets. I passed a
number of “pulperias” (octopus restaturants) and remembered that my teacher had
that this was the town’s specialty. I’ve
already done the octopus thing, though, so my mind was made when I passed the
lone pizzeria on my way to the albergue.
“Pizza?!” I screamed to myself.
“It’s been months! That’s exactly what I want!” So pizza it was.
Melide (Meh-lee-day) is the name
of the town, and according to the map of the Camino I have, it’s
the last, biggest town left on the trip.
The last 200 meters into the albergue were maybe the most painful of my
life: my knees and the tendons behind them hurt most of all, but my ankles were right there aching too, and my shoulders hadn’t
gotten a break all day either. When I
finally got to the front desk I was very pleased to find that it was a 5 euro job—one of
those pilgrim warehouse type hostels—which was just what I wanted: nothing
special, just a bed and a shower. I
stamped my passport and paid my 5 euros and struggled up the stairs to the
bedroom, where I found myself a bottom bunk pushed against the wall with a
radiator close by. What more could I
want! It was still a bit early for
dinner, so I decided to take a shower first and start the recovery and
relaxation process early. The showers were of
course downstairs—a struggle even more painful than up—and inside the shower room,
I was a bit shocked at what I found: a room full of naked, hairy, European men
in one of those locker room scenes you see in the movies. As the initial shock faded, I picked out a
shower head near the end and did what I had to do. The water was warm but not the slightest bit
relaxing, and after 5 minutes I had had enough—time to dry off and get out of
here!
“Cleaned” and dressed, I set out
across town for the pizza place I had passed on the way in. From the outside it looked closed and I was
immediately depressed, but upon closer inspection, the door was just slightly
ajar, and I pulled it open and found a crowded bar inside. All the tables were empty so I picked one
near the entrance, looking out into the streets. I ordered a beer first,
then picked up the menu. All of the
pizzas looked and sounded so, so good, but I eventually decided on the tomato,
oregano, ham, chorizo (delicious Spanish sausage) and mozzarella. The bartender had refilled my water bottle
three times by the time it was ready, and when he brought it to my table and said
“Que aproveche!” (Bon appetite) I was the most happy I had been all day. It looked and smelled so good that I couldn’t
wait for it to cool: the first bite burned the roof of my mouth so bad but I was so hungry that I didn’t even care—I just kept eating, enjoying the wonderful, satisfying
burn. I finished off one piece more than
half of the giant pie, then took the rest home with me wrapped in tin foil. The whole meal cost 7 euros—a giant beer, a
delicious dinner and the next day's breakfast—so I was extremely pleased overall.
Back at the albergue, like I said,
after putting away my things and laying out my sleep sack, I fell asleep
instantly. The on-the-verge-of-cramping
of every muscle in my body woke me up a few times and inhibited me from getting
entirely comfortable, but on the whole I slept well and woke up today refreshed
and ready for the next. And now here I am,
sitting in the upstairs lobby with literally hundreds of other pilgrims getting
dressed and packing their things and zipping, snapping, clipping their packs
all around me. I’d like to be out of
here by 8 so I better get to doing the same.
The window in front of me says grey skies and a bit of rain today, but
that’s exactly what it said yesterday and it never actually fell. Vamos a ver.
Until tonight…
Goodbye, Melide:
 |
| I bought one banana here. |
Camino Day Nine 4/14/12
6:39 PM
6:39 PM
This morning I said goodbye to Melide and made my way out of town as the sun came up.
Off eleven hours of sleep my step
was quick and my mood happy. The sky
continued to show hope of sunshine and clearing up, and though the trail was
muddy from the night before, I enjoyed it and made a game of avoiding the
puddles in stride.
 |
| the only tree like this in the whole forest |
 |
| farm football field |
 |
| bus stop in the middle of nowhere |
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| cheap coffee and fruit for pilgrims, unattended |
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| "This is the true spirit of the Camino. We trust you. Please leave money." |
continued onto the next entry...
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