Dawn broke this morning, rain resonating against stone streets, dribbling off gutters and flowerpots, the Cathedral's bells tolling their fine voice, and we are in Santiago de Compostela.
Yesterday morning, Kelsey and I woke early after a sleepless night. It felt like the first day of school, except we are at an ending of sorts, not a beginning. Hands shaking ever so slightly with barely contained expectation of excitement, I quickly packed my mochila in our behemoth of an albergue. Monte de Gozo is the last albergue before entering the old city of Santiago, so it is a sprawling 400 bed campus devoted to pilgrims and their needs. Except, it felt deserted. Only two of the 30 block dormitories were in use, and a lonely cafe, restaurant and supermarket stood dark, their windows covered in white sheets. The demand that the summer and holy years brings has created this place, but it is left quiet much of the time. It felt a touch lonely and intimidating to spend our last night before Santiago in such a foreboding place. Certainly the torrential downpour of rain that kept us trapped in our small room had a bit to do with that.
Our last guidebook consultation over tostada.
Walking out in a dark night, a soft sprinkle falling from the dark clouds, we walked the final kilometers into Santiago. It is like deja vu from our first morning leaving Roncevalles. Waking before most pilgrims have stirred, stepping into a dark night, and walking away. We stopped at a cafe for tostada (toast) and cafe, and to receive our obligatory stamp in our credencials prior to our arrival at the Oficina del Peregrino.
Credencial completo.
Following the yellow arrows and scallop blazes at our feet, our bastones clicking against the cobble stone streets, we traversed from suburbs, to boulevards, to narrowed stone walkways. And like a Frank Lloyd Wright home, we stepped from a small opening, the world pressing down upon us, and into the wide open. Our spirits soared, as the vast plaza of the Catedral de Santiago de Compostela swept downwards at our feet.
With the light gray sky as our cover, we were the only people present in this magnificent place. The early morning and a few errant pigeons were our only company as Kelsey and I simply looked at each other and laughed. We were here. Here at the resting place of St. James the Apostle, here on the Western edge of Spain, here together, here standing on our own two feet.
We had made it this far at the pace of our own strength. To go as long as 33 days without the aid of something motorized to get from here to there defies a universal truth for most people in the Western world. The Camino gave us the challenge of walking across 490 miles of a foreign land, having been wholly inexperienced at long distance walking, and with only our inexorable spirits prompting us along. I never doubted that we would be physically capable of walking here, but still I am humbled by what has been accomplished.
Aloha Santiago.
We walked through the generous plaza, necks craned towards the spires piercing the sky. Planting our feet at the Camino de Santiago stone marker centered to the Cathedral, it felt like this moment, alone in the plaza, was a gift for our toil.
Receiving our Compostelas.
Arriving at the Oficina del Peregrino just prior to the opening at nine, we joined the queue of wet, grinning pilgrims. Soft congratulations and "buen caminos" were passed around. Walking through the stone arch into the office, a hazy surreal film touched everything. Instead of speaking our reason for walking the Way, we filled out a form. I was a horizontal line of information amongst the many pilgrims who had arrived before me. I wrote my name, age, checked female, proudly wrote U.S.A., and wrote my reason as "Aloha Spirit." And in beautiful penmanship, my name was written in Latin upon my Compostela. Suddenly it was in my hands, placed there by a smiling volunteer. Standing next to me, Kelsey received hers, and we held them carefully, rejoicing right there amongst our fellow walkers, bikers, pilgrims.
Kelsey translates to "Victoram" in Latin?
Michaelam Ariadnam Rodkin.
Missing the sign forbidding mochilas in the sweeping Catedral de Santiago, we walked within and paced the quiet space. Only a few other pilgrims, tourists, and observants were our company as our eyes were pulled towards the golden shimmer of the alter. The remainder of the Cathedral is simple, and spacious, soaring ceilings and wooden pews. With our bulky mochilas and bastones we squeezed into a narrow staircase and opening behind the alter. I was filled with disbelief that anyone is given access to walk there.
Our feet followed the path tread by so many before us to the crypt of St. James. Lighting two candles in his presence and kneeling before him, my hands clasped before me, my mochila pulling me downward, I was a tumult of reflection. My mind skipped around, refusing to land with peace on anything specific. I was overwhelmed with thoughts of what I should be feeling, what I should be thinking and experiencing. I only knew that El Camino, the Way to Santiago and St. James, has heart. This path has spirit, and it nourished me to keep going.
Behind the alter.
I am not Catholic, and I never approached the Camino as a religious pilgrimage. From my observations, very few people fit the mold of a true pilgrim, depending solely on the gifts of strangers for shelter, food, medicine and life. Most walkers have designer clothes, high tech foot gear, plenty (sometimes an abundant amount) of food, a warm room with a bed every night, and are never more then a few hours walk from a cafe and toilet. Yet, the Camino is undoubtedly challenging. Beyond the obvious difficulties, I have encountered myself and my own weaknesses on the Camino. Life is logistically simple for the daily doings of the Way, but there is much internal work to be tackled. The wheels of morality, courage, goodness and selflessness turn and turn, and the Camino gives you the time to let your mind sort through so much that gets lost in daily life.
Yesterday I received an email from my Kate. "I know you are swamped with thought and introspection...but sometimes it is good to take a step back after working yourself so hard and just give yourself a simple pat on the back for completing a big goal - no analysis, no critique, no epiphanies or revelations. Just wake up, arrive and enjoy the day with the lightest, most blissful spirit possible." Amen.
Dropping our mochilas at our hostel we found a "coming full circle" cafe for fresh croissants and hot chocolate.
Returning to the now packed Cathedral for the noon pilgrim mass, we spotted many familiar faces amongst the revelers. Prior to the service, a member of the Oficina del Peregrino announces the number of pilgrims who have registered in the previous 24 hours and their country of origin. Los Estados Unidos. Our United States. The Mass was beautiful, with pilgrim priests from various nations joining the retinue of local priests to deliver the service in Spanish, English, German and French. Hundreds of voices joined together in the singing of psalms, and we shook hands with all the pilgrims around us, murmuring "Peace be with you." Our arms around each other Kelsey and I watched the pinnacle Botafumeiro, the ritual swinging of the giant incense burner. This traditional was born with the need to fumigate the masses of sweaty, smelly, disease-ridden pilgrims congregated in the Cathedral. The dramatic organ rumbled in our hearts, as a group of velvet robed attendants hoisted the Botafumeiro in the air, arcing it over the heads of the gathered, incense spilling down from the heavens.
The remainder of our first day in Santiago was a relaxing schedule of cafe sitting, reading, the quest for laundry (amazingly, we couldn't find a single place to do our laundry, so I still smell like a weary pilgrim) and eating. For dinner we even had sushi at a fabulous little place, with a richness of texture and taste that reminds me of a romantic evening in "Any-City", USA. Santiago is a much more urbane city than I had envisioned, and with its large university, it is one of the more popular destinations for tourists in addition to pilgrims. Fortunately for this Kelsey and I have been eating to our hearts content frozen yogurt and salads and we even treated ourselves to a comfy hostel our first night, and tonight in a magnificently beautiful converted monastery, San Francisco Hotel Monumento.
Julia! Our first Camino friend from St. Jean. It is only fitting we should run into her again in Santiago.
Tomorrow, I will walk alone fore the first time on the Camino. I will be following the yellow arrows out of Santiago to Finisterre well before dawn and Kelsey will be boarding a bus bound for Porto, Portugal. From there, she will begin the journey back home. I am very much going to miss my friend and Camino companion. We have spent more time together than many people do in a fledgling relationship. Supporting and listening to each other, growing deeper as individuals through friendship, we have guided each other both physically and spiritually. I cannot imagine having walked this Camino any other way and I am infinitely grateful for Kelsey. Tonight we celebrated in grand style with the most delicious dinner of our entire trip. Taste bud sensation plus sentimental parting equals a perfect last night. I don't know the next time we will see each other, but it will be as great friends, two people who can weave a story and remember how the sun rose that day over Cruz de Ferro.
Tomorrow I will begin the last phase of my Camino as I will walk towards the end of the world.
I'm almost at a loss for words! Brilliant! That's the word that pops into my head the most. Brilliant in its inception, in its planning, in its follow through, in the thoughts, in the words, in the photographs....
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