It’s the end of my 1st day of walking. And I swear, if my feet had a say, they would have left me about 20 km away.
I was so naïve to think that the Camino de Santiago de Compostela was something you could train for. Hell – no amount of walking on the treadmill or BodyPump classes could have prepared me for this. In a way, I am glad I did not spend all that much time at the gym the last few weeks. I would be cursing and swearing even harder!
Anyways, after 2 days of sleeping at odd angles, the train ride from Madrid to Sarria was a welcomed change. A wee tiny bed in a chamber smaller than my study room, filled with 4 adult bodies. And guess what – none of them spoke English! Nonetheless, we go through the night. Morning saw 3 of us heading off onto the Camino at Sarria – still not saying any more than “Hola”.
Some of you would have caught my desperate plea over Facebook as I stood at the corner of the coffee shop, cigarette in hand, staring down the direction I was pointed towards. If not for the other chap having his cigarette as well, I would have sunk to my knees beside the lamppost and bawled my heart out.
I was so naïve to think that the Camino de Santiago de Compostela was something you could train for. Hell – no amount of walking on the treadmill or BodyPump classes could have prepared me for this. In a way, I am glad I did not spend all that much time at the gym the last few weeks. I would be cursing and swearing even harder!
Anyways, after 2 days of sleeping at odd angles, the train ride from Madrid to Sarria was a welcomed change. A wee tiny bed in a chamber smaller than my study room, filled with 4 adult bodies. And guess what – none of them spoke English! Nonetheless, we go through the night. Morning saw 3 of us heading off onto the Camino at Sarria – still not saying any more than “Hola”.
Some of you would have caught my desperate plea over Facebook as I stood at the corner of the coffee shop, cigarette in hand, staring down the direction I was pointed towards. If not for the other chap having his cigarette as well, I would have sunk to my knees beside the lamppost and bawled my heart out.
I would like to think that it was your response to my cry for prayers that has me sitting here at the Casa Rural Santa Marina, typing out today’s events. Otherwise, I would likely be sitting at the Sarria train station, waiting for the train back to Madrid by now!
What have I learnt at the end of today’s 23 km? A few key things:
What have I learnt at the end of today’s 23 km? A few key things:
1) There is an invisible strength in numbers – 6 hours of walking, I think apart from myself, there were only about 5 others that I met along the way who was walking on their own. Ever few km or so, you’ll find pairs of folks sitting down to their packed picnic stuff or stopping to take pictures of each other at key markers. Perhaps that was why the ladies at the Amigos centre were surprised at this escapade of mine yesterday – they knew!
2) Life goes on – much of the route took me to people’s backyards. Lil old ladies were farming their vegetable patch, men running their tractors up and down the fields. Life goes on even as I am on quite possibly the biggest adventure of my life! Go figure!
3) The universal language – There is something about not understanding what another person is saying that reminds you the importance of your hands. At this point, I hope my feet are not tuning in or they will really disown for the credit I am about to give to my hands. It is the universal language – your hand gestures. A German elderly man (Dad – he is definitely older than you!) saw me slowing down towards the last leg and he said in German that I was tiring. When that failed, he decided to go with “flat” with his hands gesturing a levelled ground. Yes – my battery was low was my reply.
4) Forgetting the sound of your own voice – Yes, it is quite possible. Especially when the only words that come out have been “Hola” and “Buen Camino!” These foreign words rolling off my tongue and silence in between has led me to believe that somewhere between Doha and Madrid, I left my voice behind.
4) Forgetting the sound of your own voice – Yes, it is quite possible. Especially when the only words that come out have been “Hola” and “Buen Camino!” These foreign words rolling off my tongue and silence in between has led me to believe that somewhere between Doha and Madrid, I left my voice behind.
5) Uphill / downhill – They always say, take the stairs up, not down, if you wanna get healthy. Well, at this point, I cannot decide which is the lesser of two evils – uphill or down. Having to climb requires sheer grit – do what you must to just get to the top. But going downhill requires the right balance of control on all parts of your body. Lean forward a tad too much and you’re gonna go rumble-tumble just like Jack (of Jack and Jill). Put too much control and your knees are gonna make you pay for it, along with your back. So there – sheer grit or balance of control?!
As I sit, clean (finally!), cold (never believe an European when they tell you the weather has turned warm!) and full (a surprise complimentary lunch from Sarah, the bodega owner of a huge salad) – I am trying to figure this out: I came on this journey, wanting to tell my story and God’s glory and grace. How the hell am I to do that when I don’t even know how much a meal cost?!
Perhaps all is not lost just yet. Perhaps that which I had in mind, is not what is meant to be.
Anyways – 23 km in the bag. Let’s be open to what tomorrow brings!
Perhaps all is not lost just yet. Perhaps that which I had in mind, is not what is meant to be.
Anyways – 23 km in the bag. Let’s be open to what tomorrow brings!
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