Walking through Life - Making sense of the Camino

It is now 30 months since walking the Camino from St. Jean Pied de Port to Santiago de Compostela. I think about this journey every day. It may not be like an addiction in the conventional meaning of the word. Perhaps it is more accurate to describe it as something that has helped me engage in life. I am towards completion of a book on the Camino. I have entitled it for now as "Walking through Life - making sense of the Camino - a journey- a life journey - a life" I consider that the journey itself is not separable from life. The whole title may be too long. However, I will listen to the advice of a publisher. It is spiritual autobiography, pilgrimage, reflection and voyage of self-exploration. As a significant part of what I do as a profession, it is also a book about health, well-being, shiatsu, massage therapy, alternative or complementary therapy and about the hospice work that I do with those who are dying. I love the many metaphors of a journey such as this. We carry baggage through life. If it is too heavy it breaks us both physically and mentally. Our early formative years as babies, we learn to hold on. As we get towards the end of our life, we have to learn how to let go. Confusing isn't it?

Intensity of the Camino experience

It is three weeks since my arrival in Santiago de Compostela and I am still finding moments when I look back at my experience of El Camino with moments of great disbelief. Even at the time, I felt that aspects of the journey were surreal. It seems like such a contrast with my present reality and the sensory overload of living in a major metropolis, such as Toronto. Why is that? Trying to make sense of it will probably be an on going process for some time to come.

When I was walking the Camino Frances, the walk was the central activity. That was all that I had to do. From this perspective there existed no Toronto and no outside world. Even better, there was no news, good or bad, unless one happened to glance at a television monitor in a restaurant. So the 'world' had become smaller and more intimate. There was the walk, there was nature, human interaction with whoever you might encounter on the path and there was mealtimes. These experiences took on a greater intensity. One could emotionally be moved by a story in someone's life that in the 'normal' world would have no impact.

Mealtimes would take on a greater importance. This was partly due to the appetite that one would build up after a long day's walk. However, there was the added importance of breaking bread with fellow story tellers. Can I believe that the white wine that I downed with such relish along with three plates of boiled octopus, seasoned with cayenne, sea salt and olive oil was the most delicious culinary experience in my life? It was certainly good, but in the context of the Camino it was excellent.

For me an encounter with a group of school children in Ponferrada took on greater emotional charge. With their natural curiosity for all things, they explored the cathedral, tried desperately hard to behave within the parameters laid down by their teachers, and were fascinated by their meeting with this strange, possibly mad, pilgrim on an eight hundred kilometer walk. Would I have been equally affected by an encounter of a group of school kids visiting a significant monument in my own own home town?

I believe others were affected equally deeply by their experiences of the Camino. In the same city of Ponferrada, I met a pilgrim to whom I described my experiences at the Cruz de Ferro. He was visibly moved by my description of this visit.

El Camino works in a special way to sensitize us in a world that lacks sensitivity and connection.

Determination

Thinking back over the last four months ever since I committed to walking the Camino, I am astounded by my resolve, which flew in the face of what in retrospect might seem reasonable.

Two days after buying my transatlantic air ticket, I started having bad left knee pain. The cause is unknown. Perhaps it was a repetitive strain injury from practicing seventeen years of shiatsu therapy on a mat. I was more inclined to think that this ailment was sent to test me. Walking was painful and, after one disastrous trial 15 kilometer walk along Toronto's lake front, not something which I wished to repeat. My back and other leg went into protective spasm. I was advised that for now I should limit physical activity to strengthening my quads and developing cardio vascular capability.

Friends advised me to postpone my walk for a year or, at least, to wait until I had some degree of comfort and could walk without a pronounced limp. By the time I reached London, just six days prior to the start of my camino, I could still barely walk for more than a mile without pronounced discomfort. My brother suggested that for my first day I, at least, choose an alternative to the more arduous Napoleonic route over the Pyrenees.

During all this time, never did I doubt my ability to undertake this journey. Never did I consider a more gentle route over the first mountain range. This was to be my camino and I would succeed.

What happened on the Camino?

Now comes the hard part: making sense of El Camino. That may take a lifetime. I suspect it may take a lifetime because it is actually quite simple. What may be a better exercise for me is to examine my own reactions to what happened on my journey. After all the camino is a personal voyage of discovery.

It is twelve days since my arrival in Santiago de Compostela. So much has happened since that time. I spent two days in that city, flew to London for four days before returning to Canada. I have been exposed once more to the stresses and strains of "normal" daily life, along with murder and mayhem, an oil spill of disastrously spectacular proportions, a pending G20 summit in my home town that threatens to bring the City to a standstill, and Justin Bieber is still the heartthrob for countless young teenage girls.

Enroute to the airport on my way for the two hour flight to London, I passed other pilgrims making their entry into the City. Is there a look of joy or achievement as they wend their way towards the cathedral? Actually, they take on more the demeanor of automated Fritz Lang characters as in the movie Metropolis. They have a job to do, and that is walk. At this point there is no awkward news to detract from their path. Emotion will come later. Life lacks complication. At the same time, what we describe in the "real world" as ordinary takes on a almost surreal intensity.

More on this later,

Arrived in Santiago de Compostela

Finally arrived in Santiago on schedule. The cathedral is fantastic. There is the midday daily pilgrim mass presided on by the archbishop. He speaks several languages. I did not realise that at one point he was speaking English. Fortunately, I was able to understand his Spanish sufficiently well. He was talking about the difference between a pilgrim and a fugitive - a little different than the usual sermon. The party trick at this service is the swinging of a massive incense thurible, reaching a threatening arc of over 180 degrees. After surviving an 800 kilometre pilgrimage, this was the most scary event during my whole trip.

I have two days before departure for England. During this time, I will no doubt start the processing of my camino. This will also be an opportunity to relax and get used to not walking extreme distances. Will I be able to manage the absence of walking? I am, of course planning some gastronomic adventures.

Real Pilgrim V. Sunday Pilgrim

Note the differences between the two types of pilgrims: You might notice the pressed pants, cell phone on left hip, global positioning system on right hip, crisp new equipment just out of the package, matching backpacks, other fashion accessories. May also be wearing ipod headphones in order to block out the sound of nature or any possibility of personal insight, introspection or personal reflection. To be said in their favour, Sunday pilgrims may smell slightly more fragrant.

With the real pilgrim, note the muscled, weather-beaten, relaxed look despite the heavy soiled backpack. Real pilgrim accepts the here and now without complaint.

Rain and more rain

I think the deities have the same sense of humour as me if I were to have the job. I set off at 6.30 a.m. from Portomarin with rain gear at the ready. After all, this is the province of Galicia and, if it is going to rain anywhere, it is going to rain here. Got as far as Gonzar, 7.5 km down the road when it started to bucket down. This was my stopping off place for breakfast. By the time I had put on rain clothes and a waterproof cover for my backpack, the rain had stopped. However, the clouds still looked ominous, so I kept covered up. Trouble with rainproof clothing is that it does not breathe, and from the exertion of walking I was sweating profusely - perhaps even losing weight by the minute. After two hours more walking, I had had enough - it obviously not going to rain again so I thought I could dispense with the extra layer. No sooner was this done, when it started to bucket again.

Throughout the day, I played this game three times. Actually, I rather enjoy the rain as it adds aroma and freshness to the surrounding foliage.

The added benefit of the rain was to see the somewhat dampened spirit of the "Sunday pilgrims," as I have started to call them. I should be letting go of my resentment for some of these people but at the moment, I can´t. They tend to talk non stop among themselves, when not answering cell phones, and it seems they spend little or no time in silent reflection. This seems to be a peculiarity of the last 100 km of the camino. I have really enjoyed my silent walks over the last month

Covered 26.5 km to San Julian and stayed in a rather splendid stone walled "refugio" with a well stocked bar. Price of accommodation can vary from by donation, or any amount you wish, to a fixed rate of anywhere from 3 to 10 euros.
This particular "refugio" had a particular recommendation in a German guide book. I have recently been crossing paths with a very nice bunch of Germans, and they have really helped me along the way when I was suffering some pain. Pilgrim meals always consist of a three course menu with plentiful supply of wine. This is all for a nominal sum of eight or nine euros. The menu here was a vegetable soup specialty of the area with lots of potato and cabbage, a thin slice of fried pork along with mixed salad. Dessert was either cheese, ice cream or a Santiago tart. The latter is my favourite - moist with a slight touch of almond. I have also developed a taste for a digestive herbal liqueur called Licor de Herbas.

Today, I managed another 26.5 km. to Arzua - a not particularly interesting town, but then I will only be staying overnight here. The weather again was somewhat rainy. However, I stopped off in Melide for lunch at a 'pulperia', called Exequiel. This is renowned for its pulpo (octopus). I ordered a glass of wine to accompany, but that does not seem to be their custom - they brought a bottle. This is my first visit to a restaurant where I did not want the experience to finish. I ended up ordering three plates of octopus - one after the other. Other friends from the camino joined me and, in summary, I am astounded how I managed the remaining fifteen km to my destination.

I am now just 40.5 km from my destination.