Mon rêve, enfin

Summer Camp Pictures!

Fulfilling a long-lost dream can be so…fulfilling. It all began back when I first entered a French class, sat and stared at the board covered in nonsense. As a child I had watched the commercials for videos to teach children foreign languages with my mouth watering, waiting for my day. I’m not sure why I chose French, what about the language had first captured my heart, but as year after year of French classes passed by I built my dream. I had to live in France someday.

The dream soon faded as I accepted my diffidence, wallowed in my doubts. It’s hard to believe that I’m here. I think back over the journey as I walk down cobble-stoned streets, surrounded by French signs and French flags that wave proudly over my head. The journey was long, full of deviations, but here I am.
I’m sitting at a café in Paris, people watching. It’s like a Beninese fashion show. Women walk by beautiful and confident in their wild west-African fabrics. The curiosity within me is bursting, I want to ask every person where they are from, is anyone from Benin??? But there are just too many.

I had just dropped off the first round of campers, brought them safely to their families and said one last goodbye. I had the pleasure of being among the first and last faces they saw at Am Village. Tears streamed down the faces of many, some hugged so tight I feared they would never let go. Just one day away from picking up round two it was difficult for me to grasp just what an experience these kids have gone through. Immersing themselves in a foreign language and living through an American adolescence. They had no option but to trust us and to lean on each other. But that day these new bonds had to be ripped at the seams.

Some days were a challenge. They were all in their mid-teens so having learned life’s boundaries such as don’t play with fire, they’ve moved on to testing society’s boundaries. Some were overly rambunctious testing how far they could push it; others too timid, afraid of the judgments of their peers. From this view I can’t help but rejoice that I have left the teenage angst behind.

From the outside I see the many lessons that we learn after high school. Popularity is fleeting and fickle. It’s ok, even preferable to let loose and be a total dork sometimes. And as we try so hard to please these teens, who feel too cool for anything, I’m reminded that you bring your happiness with you, happiness comes from within, and we can’t force it on them.

Preparing for my role in the Spook Walk, I was being chased by a murderer

Next I must admit that these guys taught me as well. They put things into perspective for me. I saw their intense love affairs that formed and often ended seemingly overnight. I had to watch them paw at each other like there was no tomorrow. Then I watched them move on because for them there really was no tomorrow. Our job was simply to keep them in check and remind them that summer love is fleeting and all the more beautiful for that. It is the summer love that you remember for years to come because it is the love that blossomed but never dried up, never needed tending. When there is such a short time limit you need not try for a deep connection, no need for something to overcome the rough patches.

From my angle it all seems so silly. But I know that I have been and continue to be that love-sick teenage girl that dreams of something small becoming so much more.
These overly dramatic teens reminded me that it is ok to get attached, those feeling keep us alive. And I in return taught them that sometimes you just have to let go.
American Village is just what it sounds like. We recreate America in France. I arrived at the French boarding school and was told that we needed to “pimp it out”. At first the task seemed impossible, but three days later the wall were papered with American paraphernalia and clichés.

Each day carries a theme. Some purely random such as Sci Fi day, others centered on American Culture. We created Valentine’s Day, Prom, Graduation, taking them right through Rush Week. Graduation day was silly for lack of a better word. They donned cardboard graduation caps, giving hugs to all those whom I had mentored through a two week high school experience knowing that I may never see them again.

The Frat Party with fellow counselors (from the left Buffy, Kenny, Click, Meow, Yetti, Bubbles, and me, Aspen)

Cue Session 2:

I stood in the gym watching a fellow counselor, Baloo, elicit the laughs of the campers as he blew his whistle and held up yellow cards. I envied his mastery over their attention and energy, not to mention, though I consider myself a capable opponent in Foosball once you translate that to real life the rules become more like soccer and I become lost.

They seemed to be enjoying themselves thoroughly. It was one of those days when my job is easy. There is no coaxing the campers to loosen up and participate; they are genuinely having a good time. We lined them up in the gym like a foosball table, and confined them to their lines. I was fascinated by Cheese Puff. With his shaggy brown hair, collared shirt and tight black skinny jeans he didn’t look like he belonged on a foosball table. But as his foot made contact with the ball, pelting it to the other side of the gym I was humbled. You can’t read a book by its cover. Though we do just that every day.

He reminded me of a guy I met once. A musician/writer/dreamer who expanded my outlook and enchanted my world for a brief moment in time. In some ways he was exactly what you’d expect. Close your eyes and picture a member of a rock band, the kind you’d run across at the Warped Tour. What do you see? He wore the typical almost-impossibly-tight skinny jeans, black along with his shirt and shaggy hair. His skin was engraved with his life. His musical past and fulfilled dreams were forever etched into his arms, becoming increasingly beautiful as their stories unfolded. Pierced lip, pierced nose, painted nails, even his posture seemed to tell his story, but I once again made the mistake of trying to read a book without looking past the cover.

Then we began to talk, to peel back the proverbial layers only to discover that he did not fit into the character that I had envisioned. Clear-headed and focused on his dreams, aiming constantly higher, he steers clear of the typical life I had imagined for guys in bands. His years of increasing fame and tours of the world have made him more humble. As we talked I learned a lot about myself and my views of people. He opened my mind to the true depths of the human spirit. So often when you give people a chance, especially those that seem so different, they remind us that we are far from black and white, we are immensely complex when we are true to ourselves. Freed from the pressure of fitting in which is only limiting.

Then we got into childhood tales. The real earth-shatterer, he was a baseball player in high school. A good one. Once a light-haired baseball player, he had transformed into a black-haired rock star. It got me thinking about what a role clothes play in our lives. They often tell our story for us. But which comes first, the aspirations of being in a rock band or the attire? I had seen the fans of his band, the sea of black. Is it too great a coincidence that a venue full of people seem to share music AND clothing taste?

Do we become who we aspire to be and then dress the part? Or do we begin to dress the part and become caught up in the crowd?

Later that night I was invited to his show. I had a great time dressing the part. On stage he transformed. No longer the modest, hesitant guy I had spent the day with, on stage he was a performer, radiating confidence and sex appeal. It was an intriguing transformation to see, and one that happens around us all the time.

A ball flying towards my head pulled me out of my thoughts. The new favorite move in the game had become a variation of the splits, keeping one foot on the line and trying to take the ball from the opposing team. It was the one move that the girls excelled at, and Cheese Puff’s favorite move. As Cheese Puff stretched out, always repeating the same motions, going to the limits of his pants elasticity and then falling forward I was impressed by his determination to not let his attire determine how he played the game. Though he was never able to overcome the limits of his wardrobe choice, I learned a valuable lesson. He is who he is, but that doesn’t mean that’s all that he is.

Nike, another camper, can be found shooting hoops everyday at free time, and missing them. Once he gets a few through the hoop he moves on to a new sport. Struggling, learning, but never giving up on himself.

crowd surfing game

This round of campers is exhausting, but they grew on me. This group is a bit older and capable of more in depth conversations, along with more complex shenanigans. Many of them are in that awkward phase of adolescence when they demand to be treated as adults but they have yet to begin acting like adults. Craving all the perks without the responsibilities. It is a truly obnoxious time but they kept us on our toes and made me appreciate all the more where I am in life.

The Camino Part 2: ...and that's made all the difference.

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

-Tolkien

DAY 7, Ribadiso 35k to go – After a sleepless night full of snores I awoke bright and early, but this time with a group. As we walked in the fresh air of the early morning we all shared more Camino knowledge. My new favorite, one must never judge another before the first coffee.

It was a nice change of pace for me to start out the day surrounded by friends. They provided me with much needed support, quite literally. David bandaged my ankle, Christophe donated his walking sticks. I’m not sure if it was the support on my ankle, the sticks or simply the company but I felt great.

The click of my new walking sticks became almost meditational as the click click joined the rhythm of our footsteps. Our rhythms varied, sometimes one of us would walk on ahead or fall behind but we always magically found each other down the road. I realized after my stern scolding from the Belgium about walking too fast to keep up with others, that rather being around others had helped to slow me down. Alone I rarely stopped for a coffee but with them we counted down until the next rest.

As our tummies began growling we hunted for just the right picnic spot. Eventually having decided on a nice little patch of grass we veered off the path and set up. Each person offered what they had in their bag and together we feasted. There was an astounding assortment of breads, cheeses and fruits as each person pulled their personal favorite out of their packs. Bellies soon full we reclined in the shrubs and dozed off under the hot afternoon sun, shielded by the tress above. There are no words to describe how lovely it feels to wake up in a small forest clearing surrounded by new friends who are splayed out, dotted by the shade of the leaves high above. As my eyes slowly opened there was no noise beside the deep dreamful breaths of my friends and the birds singing in the distance.

Soon the itch to reach our goal stirred us to our feet. It was really hot now and there was still 9 k to walk. The afternoon heat slowed us down and we descended on water fountains like hawks. Though my body had begun to ache once more I found an odd comfort as the need to keep putting one foot in front of the other chased away the frivolous thoughts in my mind.

As we reached the top of a hill we discovered a fellow friend who had stopped at an albergue 3 k early. We raced to find a bed. And so we gave ourselves a break that day, and it was the most beautiful spot yet. Our day’s salvation.

After dipping my hardworking feet in the river and letting them go numb from the cold I took in the day’s wisdom. For my first few days I had walked alone and I had needed to be alone. Now I needed friends and they arrived and welcomed me. Natalie the cheerful French girl, Byron the rowdy Australian, David and Christophe the Austrian brothers with intensely expressive eyes, Melanie the serious girl from Switzerland, Suna the cheeky Korean and Steve the pensive Australian. What a motley crew we made, and it would not have been the same Camino without them.

DAY 8, Arco de Pino, 18k away – Breakfast was coffee and sugar, meant to sustain us through the next 5 k. We were starving by the time we met up with friends and like the day before we each offered rations from our packs and feasted on coffee, fruit and cookies in true pilgrim spirit. My knee and ankle had finally stopped complaining and I was full of energy so I walked on ahead with Christophe. It was a beautiful walk as the trees shaded us from the sun above.

Christophe talked about chemistry with the passion of someone who truly loves what they do. He had seemed so quiet and closed before, but a closer look revealed that he was quite spunky. He lit up at the thought of seeing his girlfriend soon. And as usual it got my mind going. Though I enjoy my independence I do often miss that companionship. As my mind wandered I felt a certain reluctance, almost a fear, of settling down and opening up with another person. I have a hard time accepting myself for who I am, how could I possibly expect someone else to do so? In intense situations like this I feel like I am in a zone, and I feel like another person in this zone. I look at my unadorned face and I see a fierce raw beauty that radiates from inside. In this place I feel as if I have nothing to hide, nothing to fear. But I know that this zone will soon fade away, that life and the insecurities that come along with it will soon find me once more.

Soon the others caught up and I let my steps slow and fell behind to enjoy the calmness of the day. We walked through forests, the sky thick with trees, here and there opening into a sunny field. The mixture worked well, providing us with both shade and views.

I looked back over every decision I had made along the way. What impact each had ultimately had. As I walked among friends, people with whom I really connected, I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be. My heart was light and happy. No regrets. The day I had pushed myself too far and hurt my ankle was worth the pain, worth the limping because in the end it had carried me to them. This is really a lesson that I would like to carry off the path. Decisions made may have consequences but further on down the line they may turn out to be just the one I needed to make.

It’s so hard to follow your heart sometimes. My mind interferes and I confuse the desires of my heart with those of my head and all its misgivings. Or my heart may be fickle. But when you relax, let go, just move forward and let the Camino carry you onward you inevitably follow your heart without analyzing the whys, the whiches. By quieting the mind we can set the heart free.

DAY 9, Santiago 0k –Three-forty in the morning I awoke suddenly, alert and ready for the day. I was quite shocked to be awake before my alarm. Everyone had said we were crazy to want to start so early, but waking up before my alarm, just in time, seemed to be a good sign. I walked upstairs to wake Steve only to find him packed and ready to go. No doubt remained, this felt right.

Natalie and Byron appeared in the night and off we went. At 4 am it was a new Camino, a new scavenger hunt. The air was cool and fresh. The world was tranquil and silent. We soon left the cement and lights of the city. In the black night the true scavenger hunt began. The 2 of us with flashlights began searching the ground and trees for an arrow, a sign. As we entered the forest the tree tops, which provide such relief in the day, blocked the stars. We went along, stopping at ever clearing to throw back our heads and gaze up at the starry night. The Milky Way guiding us west.

The cement markers slowly counted down to the end of our journey. 18k, 17.5, 15.5… About 8 k in to the day the craving for food and coffee began to push us faster. We entered every sleeping village hoping to find an early riser. Behind us the sun began to set the world on fire. The mountains began to glow; the dark trees around us became silhouetted against the dark blue twilight.

Giving into the exhaustion of awaking so early we stopped for a rest. Lying upon one another in the road as the rest of the world continued dreaming. In true Camino spirit our friend came unexpectedly around the corner and lay with us. There we laid, all together, watching as the sun lit up the world. Lost in the serenity of the moment.

As we moved onward our slow leisurely pace allowed the rest of our group to catch up, and back amongst familiar company we moved slowly to our final destination.

As we approached the big city my phone came back to life and buzzed with the influx of lost messages. The beeping of messages and missed called pulled me reluctantly back to reality. Each step brought us closer to the end.

In the last kilometers Natalie shared her journey with me. She had learned that everyone walks a different Camino even though we are all going the same direction. That there are times to rush and times to slow down and enjoy.

I slowed my pace as we approached the big city of Santiago. Soon I was surrounded for the first time in so long by people rushing about, their lives completely unconnected to the Camino. Life seemed to speed up as the Camino carried us through the city. The sun was high in the sky; my back was full of sweat as I rounded the last corner. There it stood suddenly towering above me. The Cathedral de Santiago de la Compostela. It seemed so silly to have walked so far just to see a cathedral, but it had become more. Over the past nine months it had been a dream, a goal, to walk here with the power of my own two feet. And there I was standing before it. I had accomplished what I once thought was too great a challenge. My fellow companions, who had been walking for over a month, who had traversed Spain, dropped their bags and sat as they stared in amazement. Though the plaza was full of tourists, full of life, this moment was ours alone.

Friends made throughout the Camino ran from every corner to greet, embrace and congratulate. Though I had walked a mere 202k they embraced me as if I had been on the journey with them all along. And in the end we had all done our own Camino. We hugged one another with disbelief and teary eyes, all slightly shocked by the sudden end of it all.

We sat and stared at the cathedral in silence until the heat moved us onward. We walked into a building that felt more like the DMV than the grande finale to an epic Pilgrimage. There I received my final stamp and Compostela, recognition for the honorable completion of my journey.

As I walked alone around Santiago I digested the week. I had learned so much in the last week. I had discovered my own personal strength, I had learned to slow down, stop and admire the view. There are times to be alone and to reconnect with yourself, since the world is so often distracting. Yet just as important are the times to connect with others, to be with friends. Everything will work out as it should. There is always a sign. Life has a way of giving you what you need. Ask and you shall receive.

I had been craving a song over the past few days. A song a new friend had sung to me in Frankfurt, which was a rare song that I could never find on the internet. But I loved the song, it had stuck with me.

After spending one last night with my friends I hugged them and since there were no words for this final goodbye we wished each other a “buen camino”. As I walked back to my hostel with my last two friends I turned a corner and heard, of all things, my song being sung by a street performer. I paid him well, sat and sang along. My last bit of Camino magic. Though the physical Camino had ended, the true camino goes on and on. And it was time for the next step.

“Walk, rest, silence the heart, contemplate, explore, discover, rediscover, enjoy.”

Santiago

The Camino Part 1: I took the road most traveled by...

THE CAMINO IN SHORT

St James Way, (or The Camino de Santiago, Le Chemin de St Jaques) is a pilgrimage known by many names within many countries. History tells us that the pilgrimage tradition started over a thousand years ago when the supposed remains of Saint James were discovered (circa 8^th century). People have been making the pilgrimage since ancient times to earn a plenary indulgence, forgiveness of sins. The number of pilgrims over time has varied greatly due to wars, poverty and disease, which leads to fewer pilgrims and Holy Years which occur whenever July 25 falls on a Sunday, such as 2010, drawing far more pilgrims.

In modern times people do the pilgrimage for any number of reasons: endurance, time for meditation and prayer, tourism, etc. The Way can be done on foot, bicycle or even on horse. There are pilgrimage routes all across Europe though some are for better up kept than others. Along “the Way” or what I will be referring to as The Camino, you always meet someone who has walked a little further. I met one man who had walked from Belgium!

MY CAMINO

DAY 0, Ponferrada 204k from Santiago - Over the past nine months the Camino de Santiago had been calling to me. I felt haunted by it, seeing the signs everywhere, yearning to follow. I began to envy pilgrims who walked by, shells hanging from their packs, walking stick in hand. That’s when I knew my turn would soon come. The last time I had felt a pull this strong it led me to Africa and two indescribable years.

The thought of the way ahead of me made me tingle with excitement. When friends shared their experiences “in” the Camino I longed to have that look in their eyes; to comprehend the feelings behind it. It took me back to my first encounter with an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer). It’s the intense sparkle of rich memories that the eyes express but which cannot be put into words. When I saw that familiar twinkle my heart was set.

The panic didn’t kick in until the morning before I set out. I took a moment to breathe and the doubt sunk in. “Am I crazy?” “Can I really push myself that hard?” “Maybe I should stay settled in my comfort.” Although my mind raced with doubts my heart remained firmly set, my backpack was ready and in the end a heart must be followed lest we forget how to hear its desires. Thus I was off to the unknown once more.

I arrived at the albergue, a youth hostel with hundreds of beds that are very cheap, not at all private and solely for the use of pilgrims. They handed me my pilgrim passport and it became official. No longer was I my former self. I was now a pilgrim.

DAY 1, Pereje 175k to go – As the sun peaked over the mountains I put on my backpack and stepped into the Camino. Trying hard to cast the doubts from my mind I began to walk.

A friend once told me that the Camino is like life. At the time I had not understood but a few hours into the Camino it all became so clear. On the Camino, as in life, you must learn to follow the signs. As a novice I lost my way many times but fellow pilgrims always arrived to show me the way. There are signs everywhere when you know how to look for them. In times when you feel like you need a sign there may not always be one, you just need to follow your heart and keep moving forward. In the Camino the signs ranged from cement signs, shells, yellow arrows, to rocks.

Throughout the day my pace varied as my shoulders began to groan and my feet to ache. The aches though painful cannot be discounted. In life our spirits get bruised, hearts broken, as our feet in the Camino and we must learn to move through the pain, to keep walking. And so I did. The Camino carried me through charming towns, fields of vineyards, and shady forests. Much of the morning I spent on my own. People would pass by and I soaked in the conversation, but before long our rhythms would carry one on and I would be alone again.

The first time I found myself truly alone, just me and my footsteps with the wind in the trees, I was anxious, nervous. We are so often distracted from ourselves. There is always something, tv, music , or the average hustle and bustle of daily life to draw our thoughts outward. As the world around me silenced I realized how much there was for me to digest: my time in Spain, in Benin, loves lost or unrequited, my future, my home, and my far-off family. In the absence of my ipod my mind was on shuffle, unsure where to settle.

As in life, so on the Camino. In some moments I yearned for a companion, yet others I craved my independence. People came and went; some stopping for a good talk, really making a connection, others just passing through.

Hours into my first day I was still in disbelief. Moment like these, when I do something crazy I have an out of body experience. I see myself from afar and think, “Damn that girls got balls.” Such a large part of me doubts my abilities, doubts my dreams. But inevitably the dreamer in me prevails, silencing those doubts temporarily. The dreamer believes I can walk 30k, that I can survive 2 years in Africa, that I can do it alone.

27 kilometers later, as Pereje appeared around the corner my heart lightened. Though my shoulders ached and my feet groaned my doubts melted away. Once again the dreamer in me had proved the doubter wrong.

DAY 2, O Cebreiro 152 K – My second morning started out much the same as the first. I was up before the sun, backpack on my shoulder once more and despite the aches from the day before it felt…good. This morning was different. This morning I knew I could do it.

I stepped into the brisk morning air as the sun rose over the mountains ahead of me. It was an uphill day. In true Spanish fashion I stopped for coffee a few K into the walk to thaw my hands. It was just me and another woman in the café.

“Que approveche” (enjoy you food) I said. “Ciao” She replied.

“Are you walking?” I tried next. “Bien”

We fell into silence after out failure to settle on a common language. “Francais?” she ventured. “Oui!” And so goes the average Camino conversation. Needless to say I was in Heaven. My first night in the albergue I found myself surrounded by languages, my brain was on overload. When I tried to speak I was mixing languages so badly that no one knew what nationality to peg me with.

One you enter the Camino you join a new community. A community in which nationality becomes a mere curiosity. The question, “where do you come from?” elicits the response of where you began walking the Camino. And why not, “where are you from” is a difficult question. Well it all started in Texas, but much of my life has been spent in Colorado, yet I most recently I called Spain my home. Take your pick. I feel like I come from nowhere in particular and yet everywhere all at once.

On the path today I left Castilla y Leon, the region which I have called home for the past 9 months, and entered into the beautiful mountainous region of Galicia. As the path wound up into the mountains the villages became smaller and smaller, some as small as population 5. Once again I walked alone, passing hours without seeing another soul. My body no longer hurt. The breathtaking mountains and valleys that filled my vision energized me and lightened the burden.

DAY 3, Sarria 110k – At the end of day 3 my feet have never hurt so badly. I lost the ability to walk normally but it was worth it. The morning started like every other, up with the sun. As I stepped out on to the path the sun peaked over the peaks below me. O Cebriero, where I had slept for the night, sits atop a mountain. That morning I felt like I was on Mt Olympus. Clouds had settled in among the mountains, so only the peaks were visible, like islands in a lake of clouds. The sun had only begun to peak above the peaks casting light pink and orange hues on the clouds below.

I enjoyed quality conversations, always learning from fellow pilgrims but like the day before I was mostly alone on my Camino. My rhythm was just not syncing with the rhythm of fellow walkers. Though my heart craved company at some points, I needed the alone time, the time with my thoughts. Just my shadow and me as the path wound up and down the mountains. Sometimes it was so narrow that only one person could fit as vines hung into the path creating walls of green on each side.

20 kilometers in my feet were not ready to stop, they dragged me on. The path led me to a highway. A lack of signs and pilgrims cast doubt into my heart. But the only thing to do was move forward. So as doubt darkened my thoughts and dragged me down I kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Once more I saw the familiar shell and turned to follow. I was relieved as I wound off the road and back to the familiar dirt paths that carried me through quiet villages that contained their history and charm in their stones as rivers wound through. The scenery was breathtaking, the world was so green, so tranquil, and I felt like it was there just for me.

The ache in my feet began to creep up my legs. With each step I was unsure that my legs would take the next step. I had hoped to go further today, but with the aches in my body I did not know if I could. I wanted a sign, a bright yellow arrow like the Camino. I rounded a corner and saw a most beautiful sight, the sign for Samos and two fellow pilgrims. I liked them immediately. “Were going to Sarria, you’re welcome to join us.” There was my sign.

As we stopped for coffee and chatted I felt that deep connection. That pull that makes me feel like I was meant to meet these people. They were fellow ponderers. I told them that I felt like the Camino was life and they said I was ahead of the game. They had been walking for over a month and it had taken weeks to catch on.

They shared their knowledge taught by the Camino. Nothing happens on accident. Nothing is ever lost on the Camino. The Camino always provides what you need. I wish I had begun long ago, one week suddenly felt insufficient to soak in the lessons of the Camino. I looked back over the day with a new outlook. Nothing happens by accident. I had spent most of the last few days alone, which was no accident. I had learned to trust myself, follow my heart and my instincts and I had come out just fine.

Next I discovered how hard I can push myself as I walked another 12 k, after having walked 30. Luckily the company was good, they kept me moving forward as my legs, feet and ankles begged to stop.

I began to hum a song that brought me comfort on my journeys. A song that soothes my soul and calms my fears. They soon began to hum along. We stopped in the shade of a tree, alone with a valley below. I played the song on my phone and we sat to take in the moment as a hawk circled in the distance. “Wind in my hair I feel part of everywhere. Underneath my being is a road that’s disappeared.” We were deep in the Spanish countryside, all alone, with just the Eddie Vedder singing to our souls. During our walk we discussed the reactions of those back home as we had set out on the Camino. How everyone wished they could do the same. But it’s so hard to see what you have. This life that has drawn us from our homes is lonely at times, and can be uncomfortable as we have to struggle through times without our loved ones close by us. It’s a choice we all make, comfort or the unknown. Though the three of us had come here on different paths we all felt the same things. Though my ankle screamed as our walked carried on. I felt…comforted.

Day 4, Portomarin 86 k to go –I had enjoyed the night with new friends, the “family” that had invited me into their circle. But as the sun peaked over the horizon I just couldn’t wait around for them to awaken. Thus I found myself once more on my own in the fresh air of the early morning. I was slowed down by my right ankle which had swollen and made it quite painful to walk. So I took my time in the morning, hoping that my friends would catch up, but unconcerned. If I was meant to see them again I would.

I stopped to rest my aching ankle and a Belgian man came to my aid. He rubbed some pain relief lotion on it and sat with me as I kept it elevated. He had been walking for over 2000k, all the way from Belgium and was full of Camino wisdom.

I had been kicking myself all morning for not just waiting for my new friends. Once again I was all alone. The Belgian told me that the Camino was not meant to be walked with others. It’s a solo experience, time to connect with yourself. You should walk at your own pace, no one else’s. And the message hit home. He told me that he sits when he sees beauty, stops to ponder the wonders of nature. “Look” he said as he pointed to a rock wall. “Why are all the flowers growing here, in this spot, when they could grow anywhere?” He also told me that when you go on the Camino you need 2 bags. One with which to give and one with which to receive. And why do you need to take anything from others? So that they can give.

Soon our rhythms changed and he was off ahead. But his lessons stayed with me. I needed to learn to walk alone. Though I have proved many times that I can go off alone, I needed to learn to accept it, to cherish it. I walked on feeling the loneliness weighing heavy. My ankle was hurting and I had no distractions. I just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And that’s life isn’t it? When it hurts you just keep moving, you move through the pain, past the pain.

But life can be ironic. Just when I felt most alone I looked behind me. I was not sure how I had managed to be alone with the huge flood of tourists that began at the last town. But behind me I saw my companion. A little dog had come, seemingly out of nowhere, and he walked alongside me for a while. I understood the message. I might not have the companionship that I so often crave, but that doesn’t mean that I am alone.

I arrived exhausted and limping in Portomarrin. It was filled with albergues and I had no idea where my friends would go. So I just chose one and walked in. There was a familiar face that lit up as I walked in. It was so nice to be greeted as if they had been waiting for me all day. I was home, back with my family.

Day 6, Palais de Rei 61k - I awoke to that familiar itch that pulls me forward. I laid in bed, with my friends still dosing around me. I silently crept out of bed, packed my things, and set off on my own. As the cold morning air blew gently in my hair I thought back over the past few days. Mornings spent walking through the Spanish countryside, afternoons on lonely mountains sides doing yoga in abandoned fields. I felt an inner peace had grown within me. I limped along slower than ever thinking of how nice it was to have been accepted into his group. So why did I run?

My rhythm soon carried me alongside a guy from Germany. He was eager for a walking companion and we walked together for 25 k. I was nice to have someone to chat with over coffee. It felt like a nice change to walk with someone though I missed getting lost in my thoughts. I was within the last 100k, which is when most people begin their walk. The path was more crowded. It no longer felt like my own.

I watched the flow of people around us. There were old as well as young, people from all walks of life (pun intended). As they walk by everyone wishes you a “Buen Camino” a good walk. I noticed an astonishing lack of judgments instead a general understanding, support. It was beautiful.

As the path joined the road I realized how cut off you become from society. Not cut off in the sense that you leave it completely, instead you enter into a parallel society. The villages we pass through and the cafes where we rest all exist for the pilgrims. We constantly meet people that are standing still but we keep moving. As we move we lose each other and find each other again.

It happened once on the steps of the Sacre Coeur in Paris, again as I biked through the bus in Benin, and once more as I walked the Camino. That sense of love that I have when I discover that I am exactly who I want to be. As I closed my eyes to sleep in Ponferrada before the journey had begun I didn’t believe that I was the type of person who would walk a pilgrimage. Five days later, having met so many kindred spirits and saying the words, “I know exactly what you mean!” on so many occasions I found myself saying “I’m exactly the kind of person that would pack up and walk across Spain”. And I thought about what a difference it was to say that. Once the doubt is wiped away, like cleaning off the grim from a car, the true beauty shines through, and I finally see myself for who I am. And I love what I see.

The arrival to Santiago to come soon... While you wait MORE PICTURES!!