Let's Go Home

For forty eight days our rallying call was "Let's go home."  Several times a day - when starting our walk in the morning, when getting up from a cafe, even when we could barely think of taking another step in the all-encompassing heat and had momentarily collapsed under the shade of a fence post in the mesetas - "Let's go home" was the call we adopted to restart our trek.  

Even in the weeks after the Camino was finished, we would affectionately refer to our current hotel as "home".  

Today we are finally going home.  I'm on a plane from Barcelona to Frankfurt as I write this, and at  7:16 Eastern time tonight, the big black KIA belonging to my friend Mike will pull up to the doors of the Ottawa airport, he'll say "welcome to Canada" we'll stumble inside (17 hours of traveling time today) and after about 40 minutes he will deliver us to 537 Main Street.  Home!  After 93 days with a series of adventures, "Let's go home" will be a reality.

But what a series of adventures it has been.

- three nights, four days in Paris.

- two days getting to and enjoying Saint Jean Pied de Port, the beginning of the Camino de Santiago.

- 48 days walking the 800 km from SJPDP to Santiago de Compestela (SdC). Many people do it in about 30 days, some in far less.  (I met one man whose first Camino was 14 days. Ours was 48.)

- one week hanging around SdC and Finnisterre, the end of the world, greeting pilgrims, making friends.

 

- one magical week of pure vacation in Porto, Portugal.  The weather was an unseasonable 32C every afternoon and it was wonderful.

- the best part of another week walking the 90 km from SdC to Muxia on the Atlantic coast.  The part of the Atlantic Coast where Finnisterre and Muxia are located is referred to as "the Costa del Mort" or the "Coast of Death" because of the many shipwrecks in its treacherous waters.

 

- back in SdC for a week of partial study and partial renewing acquaintances with pilgrim types.

 

- a week in and near Barcelona, enjoying the Mediterranean Sea, and in particular the Costa Bravo with Camino friends Xavi and Carmen.  What wonderful hosts they were, allowing us to see a part of Spain that we would have missed entirely if left to our own devices.

 

Every one of those things was an adventure in itself. Some of them would have to be called "Adventures within Adventures!" 

But there's one adventure I haven't talked about very much in this series of blogs.  And that is tonight, at 7:16 pm we go home!  Winchester, ON, the life and ministry of the adventure we have called home for 20 years.  

Buen Camino, friends. Buen Camino.  

"The man in a suit"

"There's a man with a suit on.  He looks like he's in trouble.  Do you think we should help him?"  Those words were barely permeating my mind as I tried to dodge the rain in Barcelona.  Why did the normally sunny city of Barcelona have to choose today - our only full day to see the sites - as a day of rain? We were trying our best to stay under cover, since we hadn't worn our rain coats and we didn't want to buy umbrellas. With head down, I stood at the cross walk and I vaguely heard Lorraine say, "suppose we should help that man?"  And again, with more insistence, "There's a man with a suit on over there.  He has fallen.  Do you think we should help him?"

I ran over to where he lay.  He had tripped over a broken piece of sidewalk, fallen on his face, broken his glasses and had a good (but not dangerous) gash over his right eye.  We helped him up, made sure he was OK, and then went our separate ways.  There really was nothing special about this story.  A man in a suit had fallen and injured himself, we helped him up, shook hands like old friends, and parted ways.  Almost everyone I know would have done the same thing.  After all, a man had fallen and was injured ... "A man in a suit". 

On the surface, I did every thing right.  What bothers me as I replay that scene in my mind, is that I know what was going through my mind in the nano-seconds before responding.  I was thinking of the man I had seen just three days before in Santiago. Standing outside a grocery store, wolfing food down like he might die of starvation within seconds.  Besides being hungry, he was obviously well past the point of total inebriation and could hardly stand.  I remember thinking, "I hope he doesn't fall ... at least until I'm out of sight ... because I don't think I want to help him."  I didn't think this at the time, but I might as well have: "He doesn't have a suit on."

Back to Barcelona - while I rushed to the aid of "the man with the suit on", I actually thought of a YouTube experiment I had recently seen.  Maybe you have watched it as well.  The one where they dressed a man in a suit and had him stumble and fall to see who would help.  And then they dressed a man like a beggar, and had him fall, to see who would help.  

And I remember thinking, as I rushed to help "the man with a suit on" that I hoped these two events weren't on YouTube, because if they were, the man with a suit wins again, and the preacher on vacation still has some explaining (and some soul searching) to do.  

How much easier it would have been had Jesus said, "Love The Lord your God with all ... AND love the man in a suit the way you love yourself."

Riding the Train, Remembering the Trail

Today, Nov. 10 we are on the train across Spain.  A little bit over 12 hours from Santiago to Barcelona.  From the Atlantic Coast to the Mediterranean before the day is done.  Nine of the 12 hours will roughly parallel the Camino as it meanders through town after town familiar to all Pilgrims.  In nine short hours we will retrace most of what it took 48 days to walk.  It's hard to not think back to the events of those towns. 

Ponferrada is the first familiar one.  We were there on Sunday, Sept. 28,  There was an international Bike Race in town, and the rain was falling.   We had a room with our Dutch friend Exle, and a friendly Irish man named Tom.  In the morning Tom said, "I hope I didn't snore.  My wife tells me I tend to do that sometime."  Sorry Tom, but this time your wife is right. REALLY, REALLY RIGHT.

Next stop - Astorga.  Friday, Sept. 26.  A morning at the hospital while Lorraine had her feet tended  to.  A walk back to the restaurant because I forgot to pay for breakfast this morning.  Find a fruit stand, take a few pictures of another magnificent Cathedral, and get back on the trail to see if we can make up for some lost time.  

After lunch, Walk another 12 km in the afternoon to Lorraine's favorite albergue of the trip, a really nice one in the "town" of Santa Calalina de Somosa.  

When we think of Astorga, we think the day before, and meeting  David, who lives 6 km out of town on top of a hill in a house with two walls and a blanket to make up the other two walls.  David has chosen to live there in order to serve pilgrims, and he served us well.  "Welcome to Paradise", he intones as we approach.  And then proceeds to show what Paradise is like.  

Working backward on the trail, the next stop is Leon, a major milestone for us pilgrims,  and what a wonderful night of reunion we had here on Monday, Sept. 22.  We met Marlin, who had become a good friend 10 days ago, but since then had always been a full day ahead of us.   (Marlin - from Houston - is one of the few we met that we are confident will remain a good - though longdistance - friend, so it was wonderful to share a meal with him again.)  

And then - the TWINS - 19 year old sisters from Netherlands.  We spent the evening with them in Calzdilla de la Cueza on Sept. 17, buying their dinner for them.  They were very thankful, and we were all delighted to have a 5 minute reunion here in Leon.  (We made tentative plans to meet up again in Santiago, but that never happened, so by now the girls have gone on to their lives as Au Pairs, one in England the other in Australia - Are twins allowed to move that far apart?)

It's nearly 2:00 now, and the train is rolling again, this time toward Sahagun.  Ahh, Sahagun, the home home of my least favorite municipal Albergue.  It was a beautiful building, and we thought we had hit pay dirt when we signed in here before noon.  But by evening the pay dirt had become a Camino nightmare.  None of the walls go to the ceiling, so the noise of the late cookers in the kitchen mingles with the thunder of the early snorers in the boudoir, which then joins with various mysterious sounds from the water closet. They all are magnified over and over again, making a joyous chorus, sung to the all-too-familiar Camino tune of "Nobody sleeps tonight." 

The good event of the Sahagun stay was that we picked up our certificates stating that we had reached the geographical Center of the Camino.  And the other good event of Sahagun was ... It preceded the next day. 17 km to El Burger de Ranero where Lorraine and I both treated ourselves to to our one and only massage!  After four weeks of steady walking, and many many aches and pains, this was our time.  Thanks to the beautiful young masseuse from the Netherlands who had decided to interrupt her Camino for a few days and give massages on a donation basis.

It's 2:30 now, and we are moving quickly across the mesetas.  

The train takes a more southerly direction here for a while, leaving me to remember towns and villages like Formista, Carrion de Los Condes, Hontanas and Hornillos del Camino.  Countless Other Unnamed Towns with their tiny population, but big Cathedrals (under major reconstruction.)  Towns with no economy other than that provided by thousands of pilgrims parading through. 

As I look out over the flat, flat lands, broken only be the occasional undulation (I love that word), it's hard to remember the agonizing heat that ruled everything during those long days of walking.  No one was "moving quickly across the meseta" then.  Find a pace where you could survive, keep that pace, and hope that just before your energy was totally gone, an albergue would appear.  Somehow, one always did!   

In the mesetas, the guide books use language like "boring" to describe this 10 to 14 days of walking.  I'm of the opinion that the guide books should take that kind of leading language out of their vocabulary.  Tell me that is flat - for that's a fact.  Tell me there is no bar/cafe for 17 km, so I had better fill up my water bottles and carry some food - for that's a fact.  But "boring" is not a fact, it is a state of mind, and frankly we found the long walks (that's a fact) to be rather interesting.  I find it unfortunate that several times during the Camino we heard people make plans to skip a particular portion of the Camino because the guide book said it was "boring" or (as was the case in more hilly areas) "steep and strenuous"

3:40 pm and the train is in Burgos - running behind schedule by at least 1/2 hour.  That sounds familiar - the day we walked into Burgos (two months ago today - Sept. 10) we were late.  25 km, hot day filled with ups and downs, lack of shade, around the perimeter of the airport, through hot streets and then the Albergue was full.  

We found a private hotel in the Cathedral area, so it was all good, but we never found our friends Carmine and Xavier.  We were supposed to say goodbye to them that night as they were headed home, but it was not to be.  The good news is that as I write this exactly two months later, we are heading to visit them in their home on the Mediterranean Coast!

A few more towns, and finally at Pamplona the train leaves the Camino for good, heading south east to Barcelona. 

Nine hours from Santiago to Pamplona.  In nine short hours we have retraiced most of a 48 day walk. 

And just like that, it is done.  An amazing piece of our life story is now history ... but if you listen carefully you can hear it calling my name.  "Thurland ... Thurland!   Thurland ... Don't forget to come back". 

After the Camino - 3 - Walking to Muxia

After that wonderful week in O Porto, Portugal, we arrived back in Santiago early Monday evening, Oct. 27.  Headed directly to Terra Nova Pilgrim House to drop off twenty pounds (yes, 20) of stuff we didn't want to carry this week.  (A lot of things that seem necessary for a three month trek don't seem so important for four days)

Found ourselves an albergue (Roots and Boots) on the Muxia side of Santiago, (could save us 2 km the next morning) and settled in for the evening - excited to be back in the pilgrim mode, and excited that for the most part the weather forecast for the week was very favourable.  

Had a great evening chat with three ladies who had just finished the Camino as well. Jenine, Lucinda and Clare - if you read this, I'm talking about you and the evening chat was important to us. Blessings on you. 

Tuesday, October 28 - Santiago to Negreira - 22 km.

Good breakfast at Roots and Boots, and headed west at 8:30.  Because of the time change on the weekend, it is comfortable lighting at 8:00 now, which means we can get underway at a better time.

This was 22 km, and we were worried that the past 18 days acting like tourists may have our walking muscles out of shape.  Not to worry on this day at least.  The trail "undulated" through forest and field, past brooks and farmyards.  Overall, it was perhaps one of the most enjoyable days of the Camino.  

The only thing the trail didn't wander past was an abundance of places to eat. One advertised one was not there, which was regretful because we had walked past one a half hour before. Thankfully we were aware that the Fisterre/Muxia way would have less food, so we were prepared, but still thankful when we found a little bar after 15 or 16 km.

Met a man (Pierre) and his dog Toby whom we hadn't seen since Sept. 27.  On that day I had taken a picture of his beautiful dog, which came in handy today.  Pierre is "rough" and doesn't have a lot of friends on the trail.  He occasionally (often?) has to sleep outside, and it has taken it's toll.  So today, I showed him the picture of his dog from 4 weeks ago, and his eyes lit up in amazement that anyone remembered him, and would want to talk.  His poor English, (and my poor Italian) was a barrier, but he found out I was a pastor and we talked the blessings of God for an hour after most others had gone to bed

Wednesday, October 29 - Negreira to Santa Marino - 21 km.

The "tourist" legs that didn't bother us yesterday?  They turned to jelly early on in the walk today. Earlier this week someone had described "knackered" as the state of tiredness somewhere between totally exhausted and dead. Today "knackered" hit early!  

Thankfully there was an albergue with a great bar/cafe only 12 km. into the day.

Regretfully, the bar/cafe was so good, we felt rejuvenated after a lunch and an hour rest, so decided we could go on.  WRONG CHOICE!  Did I mention the definition of knackered?  By the time we got to Santo Marino we were both well beyond mere knackeredism.  

Be that as it may, a rest and a good meal, a shower and a good nights rest had us ready for tomorrow.  Enjoyed the evening meal with a German lady, but never caught her name.

Thursday, October 30 - Santa Marino - Dumbria - 23 km.

There were only four of us in the six-bed room, so was a good nights sleep.  Set the alarm so we could be on the trail at sunrise, ate a toast and coffee breakfast and was underway at 8:05. Another perfectly blue sky morning, and the weather stayed that way all day.  

Another great section of the trail to walk.  Although much of it was paved, it was tiny country roads meandering through picturesque areas.  The options for stopping today were Oliveiroa (8 km), Logroso (11km) or Dumbria (23 km). We chose Dumbria for two reasons:  The others were too short, and it would position us for 20 km to finish tomorrow.  The weather forecast is changing, and we don't want to dilly-dally

It truly was a beautiful walk, but in the last 5 or 6 km. I was reminded of yesterday's lesson on "knackeredism". And the downfall of Dumbria is that it is so small there are not many services.  But it was big enough so that the services there were at least a kilometre apart.  I walked the 1 km in and back to get our afternoon lunch, and then Lorraine and I went back in for the evening meal.

Friday, October 31 - Dumbria to Muxia - (supposedly) 20 km

There are a few sections of the Camino of which I am highly suspicious of the stated distances.  This is one of them.  But I digress.

The weather today was "threatening" throughout the whole day.  High winds.  Low Clouds scuttling past. Keep your rain gear close, and put it on occasionally.  But fortunately the deluge (and it was a deluge) didn't hit until late afternoon when we were safely tucked into the albergue. 

The "tourist legs" were reminding us we hadn't walked much in the previous two weeks - especially Lorraine's. The road "undulated" - a lot.  Other than that, it was a great day.

- The books were right in saying there was a cafe after 6 km.

- We met a man who gave us a forestry lesson. He was planting trees, we chatted and he showed us how to tell how old a tree is - without cutting it down to count the rings.

- We stopped on a whim at what one friend called the "hippy albergue".  He was right, but it was an interesting place for a cup of tea.

- We walked a boardwalk along the beach for the last km into Muxia.

- We arrived safely in Muxia

Oh, did I mention my lesson from two days ago on knackeredism. I'm afraid that Lorraine and I are becoming "knackeredistic".  I'm confident in saying this 20 km was actually at least 25.  And I'm confident in saying I was finished at 15, and she a bit before that.

But maybe being knackered is a fitting way to end a 900 plus km walk.  For we now know that this day was the last day.  We had planned to stay in Muxia two nights and then walk to Fninnisterre, but when we got up Sunday morning it was blowing at one thousand km per hour, the rain was falling at 36 inches per hour, (I exaggerate, but only slightly), and the bus was leaving in one hour to go back to Santiago. We both remembered the knackered legs from the last three days, so we jumped on the bus, and that was that.

End of the Camino.  End of the most amazing experience of our lives.  

Saturday, November 1 - Exploring Muxia

An absolutely gorgeous day to explore the sights around this fishing village.  Muxia sits right at the end of a tiny peninsula jutting out into the Atlantiic.  They call this area "the Coast of Death" because of the many shipwrecks that have occurred here.  It is an easy place to spend a day and decompress.

We still have some time (two weeks) left in Spain, but our schedule will change.  I'm finding a place to do some study and try to get back into a routine.  (Get some prep work done for the Advent and Christmas seasons.)

Did I Say That?

Oh, the dangers of international communication.  I think I agree with Huckleberry Finn when he said something like, "Why can't humans just speak human?  Dogs speak dog, cows speak cow!  Why can't humans just speak human?" (See below for the actual conversation between Huck and Jim.)

She was struggling to get the words out in English, the only language I could understand. "This is my second Camino", she said, in her thick German brogue. "I have the time to do it over again, because my husband died recently."

To which I replied, with all of the pastoral compassion I could muster, "How nice for you."

I'm sure wars have been started over less.  "My husband died recently." ... "How nice for you!"

Fortunately no wars started on this one.  I think she realized I hadn't understood, and we moved past this into an easy relationship that lasted through the next days of  our Camino life together. 

HERE'S WHAT HUCK ACTUALLY SAID.  It was in a conversation between HUCK and Jim, in which they were amazed that a Frenchman would speak a different language than them.

"Looky here, Jim; does a cat talk like we do?"

"No, a cat don't."

"Well, does a cow?"

"No, a cow don't, nuther."

"Does a cat talk like a cow, or a cow talk like a cat?"

"No, dey don't."

"It's natural and right for 'em to talk different from each other, ain't it?"

"Course."

"And ain't it natural and right for a cat and a cow to talk different from us?"

"Why, mos' sholy it is."

"Well, then, why ain't it natural and right for a Frenchman to talk different from us? You answer me that."

"Is a cat a man, Huck?"

"No."

"Well, den, dey ain't no sense in a cat talkin' like a man. Is a cow a man? -- er is a cow a cat?"

"No, she ain't either of them."

"Well, den, she ain't got no business to talk like either one er the yuther of 'em. Is a Frenchman a man?"

"Yes."

"Well, den! Dad blame it, why doan' he talk like a man? You answer me dat!"

After the Camino - 2 - Porto, Portugal

Looking at the weather, and looking at the map, and looking at the amount of time at our disposal, on Monday, Oct. 20 we jumped on a bus and headed for Porto!  

- the weather says it is unseasonably warm and sunny in Porto for the next week

- the map says it's on the coast in northern Portugal, only three hours by bus

- the Internet says it's no more expensive to stay there than it is here

- the calendar says we have at least a week we could spend there

- and the heart says "Go."

Not knowing much about it, we booked two nights at a hotel in the city center, and lucked out again. Vera Cruz was right beside City Hall, which is a happening area of town. When we came out of the subway station and started looking for street names to pinpoint where we were, the first thing we saw was the name of our hotel, less than 100 meters from the Metro.  

After those two nights, we did some leg work to follow up in some of the cheaper hotels - to make sure we would want to stay there before we booked one - and found the family-run D. Filipe I, and moved there for the next five nights. 

The weather for the week was AMAZING. 28 to 32 C every afternoon. Cool enough (barely) to sleep well in the night.  Everyone tells us it was unusual for this time of year (normally 10 C cooler), so we certainly enjoyed it!

The beach - dotted with cafés, etc - was very relaxing.  The water was warm enough to enjoy, but we learned the hard way you don't turn your back on the ocean.  Waves were regular and strong, with the occasional one being larger and much stronger.  Lorraine got pummelled pretty good by one of the larger ones.  Not only did it scare her, it flipped her around, took her glasses and that was that.  Because of the steepness of the beach, the undercurrent was strong, and when something is gone, it is gone forever.  Fortunately, for the FIRST TIME in our lives we had travelled with an extra pair of glasses, so it was only a matter of getting back to the hotel to be back in the swing of things.

The tourist "things to do" - there were sufficent of them, and many at a reasonable rate, that we found Porto a very easy city to hang around for seven days.  Two-day passes on the Hop-on-Hop-off bus, a cable car ride, a tour of a wine cellar, church after church, a high tower, a River cruise, and lots of walking through the different areas filled the time rather nicely.  

Although far from the Camino, I would have to rate the week in Porto as a success!  We were sad to say goodbye, and would definitely return if the opportunity ever affords itself.  

After the Camino - 1 - Santiago and Finnisterre

The first days (actually 8 - 10 days) after the Camino we spent between Santiago and Finnisterre, (which by many is seen as a natural extension of the Camino).

Saturday, Sept. 10 through Monday, Sept. 12 we spent in Santiago - getting the certificates, viewing some of the sites, meeting friends, relaxing.

We were staying at the Semanario Menor, which is about 1.5 km from the Cathedral area, and it was very suitable, at somewhat reasonable rates (€15 each per day).  It had laundry facilities which allowed us to catch up, cooking facilities which allowed us to be budget conscious, and huge eating area, which allowed us to meet other pilgrims who had recently finished the Camino.  

This included Saskatoon Ron, whom we had met several times on the trail, and Toronto Mary, who we hadn't seen for five weeks.

Tuesday we walked to the bus station, paid €13 each for tickets to Finisterre, and headed to the end of the earth.  I had wanted to walk, but at the last minute decided to do the bus, and spend more time in Finisterre.  RIGHT CHOICE for a couple of reasons.  First, it rained heard for four days,and the walk would have been absolutely miserable. And secondly, the bus trip was some of the most amazing scenery of the entire time so far.  The three hour ride was 80% on the coast! and the coast was rugged and beautiful.  

The three nights in Finisterre were well worth the price of admission, in spite of the horrid weather.  We walked to the Lighthouse at the end of the earth in driving rain.  We walked the beach in driving rain.  We went down town for each of the three evening meals in driving rain.  We shopped in driving rain. And it was WONDERFUL.  As someone noted on one of our FaceBook posts, "there is no such thing as bad weather ... only poor clothing choices."  

The pilgrim menu in Finisterre included lots of seafood choices and it was all delightful.  If you ever do the Camino, here's my advice to you.  Put on your positive attitude, get yourself to Finnisterre, and enjoy tthe end of the earth.  

Friday, October 17, we jumped back on the bus and returned to Santiago.  The plan had been to go to the other coastal town of Muxia, and I probably should have.  But  by that time, with the rain still driving, my positive attitude toward things coastal was beginning to mildew, so we returned, looking for drier circumstances.

The immediate plans are to be in Santiago until Monday, and then jump a bus to Porto, Portugal. We lucked out on our weekend hotel room.  It is in the Center of the city, exactly where I want to be, and it is NOT a room, it is an apartment.  

Until next time, Buen Camino.  (I still say that because I don't yet know what to say now that the Camino is past.). I'm still hanging around pilgrims, and so the weekend at least still has a Camino feel to it, so I'll indulge my fantasies and say, "Buen Camino".

You CAN get there from here!

Every time I hear a great guitarist, I KNOW that should have been me.  If only I had been born with his talent.  If only I had as nice a guitar.  If only my fingers were as long as his.  If only, if only ... if only.

But I know I'm just kidding myself.  He/she is a great guitarist because they payed the price to get there,while I tried to find "work arounds", or shortcuts.  He spent hours doing the "do, re, me", burning callouses into his fingers, while I discovered two or three "licks" and pretended I was already great.  

I wanted to "be" there.  He took the time to "get" there. 

I've always known this, but one of the lessons the Camino has cemented is just that.  You can use a thousand things to illustrate the point.  Want to have a million dollars?  There are steps (other than robbing a bank, or relying on blind luck.). Want to be a great athlete? Start with the basics.  

Tonight at supper, I met a new friend - Jacques from Quebec, Quebec.  Together we coined the phrase, "Everyone wants to 'be' there.  Very few want to 'get' there."  Jacque, at 65 knows what he is talking about. He is just finishing his fourth Camino.  He did the French way 9 years ago,then the Portugese Way, then some other way, and this year the Norte Way.  He was talking about his many friends who often say they want to "do" a Camino.  

But here's what we've learned.  You don't "do" a Camino.  You "take" a walk.  And then ... another one, and another one, and one more, and ... and ... and.  The steps you take start long before Saint Jean Pied de Port.  The steps include saving money, walking around mundane Gypsy Lane, saving money, walking around mundane Gypsy Lane, denying yourself other things that would eat away at the money you've saved, walking around mundane Gypsy Lane.  And finally the magical day arrives and you are sitting in a cafe/bar in a little French town you now know as SJDPD, and you say, "tomorrow I'm taking a walk".

But even then, you don't begin to walk a Camino.  You just walk. You see a yellow arrow on the way out of town, and you follow that arrow.  And then there's another arrow, and another.  You're exhausted already, because mundane Gypsy Lane couldn't prepare you for the first hour of the  French Pyrenees, and you want to quit, but you don't - you just keep walking.  You're not walking a Camino.  You are just walking to that next shade tree.  When you get there, IF you get there, you will reward yourself with a drink of water, and then you'll walk to the next shade tree.  When you get THERE, if you get there, you'll have water AND a piece of bread.  Now that's a reward worth looking forward to!

So you walk to that shade tree, and somehow garner the strength to go to the next one.  Not because it's fun, but because you have decided to walk a Camino, and the only way to walk a Camino is to walk to that shade tree. 

Week 7 Summary - OUR CAMINO ENDS

I didn't keep notes as I walked this week, AND I am writing this AFTER we have completed the 800 km.  It's Saturday night as I write, and yesterday at 2:00 we walked down the hill into Santiago de Compestela, got ourselves a room in the Seminario Menor albergue, and sauntered over to the Cathedral of Saint James, ending our Camino.  

Saturday morning we went back to the Cathedral area, found the Pilgrim Office, and received our certificates of completion!  Our new good friends, Kathy, Don, and Carmelle were with us; we had a little celebratory hug in the middle of the street, and that was that. 

But, that was not that.  In fact, I'm not sure "that" will ever be "that" again.

But while I'm trying to figure out what that means, here's a recount of the week.

1.  We walked.  From Samos to Barbadelos - 15 km., from Barbadelos to Portomarin - 20 km., from Portomarin to Portos, 20 km, from Portos to Melide - 20 km, from Melide to Arzua, 20 km.From Arzua to Pedrouza - 20 km, and finally Pedrouza to Santiago - 20 km.  Up hill and down (is there no flat land in Spain?) on streets, country lanes, and beautiful wooded paths.  We walked.

2.  It rained.  Until this week, we had kept our rain jackets handy three days in a row, and used them for about five minutes on each of those three days. This week, we used them - from Portomarin to Portos, Portos to Melide, Melide to Arzua, and from Arzua to Pedroza - we used them.  They did their job, and thankfully it was a warm rain, so we were never cold, but let's just say this week we learned what they mean when they say Galicia is rainy.

3.  Lorraine proved herself to be one of the strongest women I know. She wanted this as badly as I did, so day after day, she dug deep - as deep as anyone I've seen during our 7 weeks, and deeper than most.  Every morning she'd say, "I don't think I can walk today", and then she'd dig deep.  The last day she said, "I wonder if anyone has ever walked 780 km, and then not been able to finish."  And then she dug deep. 

4.  We made new - and lasting friendships.

Monday night in Portos was a Camino moment.  12 people, none of whom knew the others, were in a small albergue, waiting out the rain. Don and Sue, from Ottawa.  John and Kathy from Minneapolis.  Jacques from Montreal.  Jane and D (Denise), both from South Africa. Fabio and Valentina from Italy.  Carmelle from Montreal. And us.

And what a night we had.  The meal was superb. The conversation was engaging.  The friendships were instantaneous!  And Monday night was celebrated all week as we kept bumping into 8 of these people.

Fabio and Valentina were the couple I blogged about earlier (Carry each other's burdens).  She was carrying his back pack for a good part of the last few days because of a muscle injury he had.  I had talked to them earlier, and since they were holding back in the conversation (they spoke only broken English), I introduced them as my heroes, and told some of their struggles. They later confided they were not married, and had decided if they were able to get to Santiago together, they would be setting the date.  We walked much of the next few days together, and I know they were in Santiago, so I eagerly await the news of a date.

Speaking of dates, I wrote in that same blog about a blind man walking the camino with a guide. I never met them, but my friends John and Kathy did.  And they told me that the guides wife, and the blind mans girlfriend met them in Sarria and walked the last 100 km.  Guess who's girlfriend is now his fiancé? Another wonderful Camino moment.

5.  And speaking of "Camino moments", look for a separate blog called "The Camino DOES do miracles."  My heart leapt for joy this afternoon as Lorraine said, "that sounds like ..."  

Well, never mind, go look for the other blog.  If it's not there yet, it will be soon.  Because it was "..." Never mind, just go look.