FINlos reviews…

…el Camino de Santiago

Apr 26

FINlostravel blisters, miscellaneous, santiago, spain 4 Comments

My first trip out of the United States was to Spain, my wife’s native country. Once there I found myself falling into a funk. Culture shocked (in fine European tradition the whole country, it seems, shuts down from 2-4 every day!), homesick (the flat we inhabited with my wife’s Abuelo in Madrid felt to be about the size of my living room), and tragically restricted in our activities by the limitations of our host (he’s old and diabetic), not to mention the 110F temperatures (who knew Madrid was a desert?); I needed a break from the rough start we had upon our arrival.

At the start of our second week (we spent six in total) we traveled to Abuelo’s second flat in Lugo, in the province of Galicia to the northwest. Again, I found myself not enjoying my time as much as I would have liked. We were stuck between meeting the demands of an elderly man needing to take care of things that he couldn’t do alone and fulfilling familial obligations. I understand, this sounds petty, and to be sure it is. But I felt as if my wife and I had no freedom to do as we wanted. We were trapped in our own vacation.

One of the things we had planned to do before leaving the US was to walk the last leg of the Camino de Santiago (pilgrimage on the Way of St. James), walking the minimum 115 km into the city of Santiago de Compostela required to be recognized as official pilgrims and receive our compostelas, certificates of completion recognizing our travel. Before departing for Spain we ordered our pilgrim passports, and they sat silently taunting me from within my over-packed suitcase.

As far as hobbies go, hiking is one that both my wife and I enjoy above most things (wine drinking probably being at the top of the list). That said, Abuelo was apprehensive at our departure. But this was one demand I insited upon; I wanted to walk. Abuelo, saddended at our departure, saw us off on the Monday of our third week in Spain. In preparation for our journey he insisted that we take a wheel of cheese, about 2 kilos (~5 lbs) worth. My wife and I shared an amused glance at one another (pay attention here, this will be important later). We agreed upon a large chunk of the Manchego (read: better than American) and a half a loaf of bread, citing our internet research which stated that weight be as limited as possible. With our ruck sacks packed and our two water bottles filled, we took the elevator down to the street and walked to the train station, a modest, ambling intro to the trek to come.

This long winded introduction only goes to emphasize the personal importance of the week spent on our walk, my real vacation. The irony is that while it took so many words to set the scene, words alone cannot do not explain my experience of el Camindo de Santiago and the entrance into Santiago de Comostela. So I will use images to aid me.

With all our necessities on our backs, we walked to the train station in Lugo and waited.

Arriving in Sarria, the Camino had begun.

For the first time we were alone in this country. That smile belies panic. We intended to stay the remainder of the day in Sarria, but our anxiety at being alone coupled with my sense of adventure drove us on the newly found path towards Santiago.

Look at us, brave pilgrims walking down a path trod upon by billions through the millennia.

We walked. And along the way we learned many things. When walking up hill, switch to low gear. Always keep your walking stick handy. And always know the distance to the next fountain.

Because two bottles simply don’t last long enough when you are walking.

Do you remember the cheese I mentioned? Well, at a point just past this lovely scene we came upon a wall dividing properties that was shaded by an oak. We hadn’t realized how hungry we were so we decided to stop for a picnic. I assembled from our small loaf and chunks of cheese what would be the best cheese sandwiches ever consumed by man or woman. The pleasure of that moment simply defies description. As we sat and ate our modest meal, I found hidden beneath a rock a note written by one pilgrim to another. The exact words escape me now but it was along the lines of a man having departed some time before a woman companion and his telling her that he would look out for her along the Camino. It was simple, and sweet. It was vague enough to be mysterious, but clear enough to be potent. I put the letter back under the stone, finished my cheese sandwich (wishing I had accepted more from Abuelo) and water, and enjoyed the shade.

After six hours and 24 km of walking we crossed the bridge into Portomarrin, our first stop, and got a hotel room. I was fond of sleeping in a private room with a shower rather than staying in the free or private pilgrim hostel. And then we found a restaurant, drank a glass(bottle) of wine and went to sleep.

(I’m of course leaving out the fact that i had the worst case of thigh chafing ever and that we both already had blisters on our feet. I leave it out because that first day is one of the best days of my life.)

I will give the highlights from the next three days.

We wake up.

Walk and count the kilometers.

Meet really nice people.

Fill up our bottles.

Find a room and sleep.

And so on until we reach our goal.

Wake up and Walk.

Walk some more and then sleep.

Wake up in pain (yes, those are tears) and walk and agony (you can’t see it but my knee is bandaged and my brain is struggling to deal with the fireballs that have replaced my blister covered feet).

Meet cool people and eat.

Here’s a little insight if you ever consider doing the Camino. When you see a sign that says Santiago, it’s a lie. And when you see a second sign that says Santiago de Compostela, it’s a lie also.

Because in this photo we are about 2 km beyond that second sign and still 3 km away from our eventual destination. I think it is a big prank they play on the pilgrims. Maybe they thought it would be encouraging to say that you are there even when you still have so far to go.

And there is so much that I am leaving out. Like how I called the wrong number to get a room but it turned out to be for the better because the place I called on accident was run by one of the nicest families in the world and our room was really nice (despite the fact that it overlooked a busy street with bars on every corner that were open until five in the morning).

The depths of the pain that we experienced can be summarized in this one image.

But the pleasure of accomplishment can be summarized by this one, and many others.

I did not complete el Camino for any particular religious reasons, yet I found the experience transcendent regardless. We spent the next three days mending and relaxing, basking in the pleasure and pride of completion. And when we returned to Lugo and later to Madrid, I never really felt the seclusion or frustration that had been present before.

My wife and I are returning to Spain this summer. This time we are adding some kilometers to the walk. We are better prepared and more experienced than we were so maybe this time we can meet St. James or Iacobus or Santiago, or Xaocobeo with fewer blisters; but maybe the pain is part of the experience.

Rated five stars for rustic beauty, freedom, and fulfillment.