This was very much a baby Camino compared to the Frances. 119 km versus 800 plus. So I am somewhat surprised to have arrived in Santiago today in worse condition than when I rocked up after the Frances in May. I blame my shoes for the ailments which I’ll not bore you with. Just to say, it’s a shame that after finally finding shoes that fit my “freaky” sized feet (as the girl in Blacks, Regent street so nicely put it), they clearly aren’t the business.
Still feet, ankles and legs will heal and, as per yesterday’s post, the pain will become a distant memory by Friday and be completely forgotten by Sunday when I’ll be planning my Camino Portuguese for next spring. What I will remember of today is far more fun.
Like the walk in the dark. I had to leave at 7 this morning in order to get to Santiago for mid-day mass. Unfortunately sunrise wasn’t until just before 9 and my headlamp is safely stored away in Oxfordshire. The first few hundred yards out of Sigueiro went really well due to streetlights but when I had to turn left down an unlit road I hit problems. A kindly bus driver actually stopped and asked me if I was okay and pointed out the turning I had missed. I retraced my steps and headed up the right path into woods that would have been dark at 1pm on a sunny July day. My cunning plan – to use the torch on my iPhone – proved completely useless. Eventually I found my way back to the road and walked in on a succession of soulless urban highways until I got back to the bus station from where I knew the route in. Slightly funny that I left that bus station last Wednesday and it took 1 hour to get to Ferrol and four and a half days to get back.
Like the pilgrim mass. Always catches me emotionally and I can’t explain why. Today a stern priest invited those who were Christians, Catholic and in a state of grace to receive communion. I’m definitely the first, and because of that (with our cheerful evangelical theology) I’m automatically the third too. And he didn’t say Roman Catholic – just Catholic – and I’ve affirmed my belief in the holy Catholic Church everytime I’ve said the Creed. So I went up and I reckon it was ok because not a single lightening bolt landed near me.
Like lunching after mass on fresh paella and Galician beer. Tastes so much better when you know you aren’t going to have to carry a rucksack after the meal.
Like the joy of trying to explain that I wanted to buy a stencil for doing an icing sugar shape of the Santiago cross on top of Santiago tarts. My pantomime of baking a tart is one of which I’m pretty proud as the woman in the shop understood me. Then said she didn’t sell them but she knew a woman who did.
Like eating Santiago tart. I tried to get some yesterday in Sigueiro but the bakery had sold out. Shows just how addictive this stuff is.
Like the mock-offence from the pharmacist who, when I tried to buy some penicillin (just to have in the house when someone gets a chest infection this winter) over the counter. Horrified he told me that to issue an antibiotic, one needed, of course, a prescription from a doctor. As, a few months ago, I had been cheerfully sold said antibiotics over the counter based on nothing more than me saying I felt poorly, I thought this was a poor attempt to grab the moral high ground.
Like finding a lemon cornetto for sale. Truly, nectar of the goods.
And, of course, like getting my second Compostela at the Pilgrim Office and chatting to the people in the queue, including a crazy Canadian woman. They must make vast numbers of them in Canada and ship them over to do the Camino.
Just loving this whole new aspect to life that I’ve found. So much more walking to do….
Love,
Nick, a pilgrim
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