Whispers from the Camino—Day 33

October 7 Portomarin to Pala de Rei 24.1 km

There were three distinct images for the day.

IMAGE #1

Typical view in the entrance to an albergue

I was staying on the third floor in an albergue in Portomarin. One of the things we had become accustomed to was leaving our shoes and our walking poles near the entrance to many of the albergues. I had the feeling that it was partly out of respect, partly for cleanliness, and also to keep from accidentally stabbing each other with poles in the tight quarters of the bunk rooms.

The first couple of times I was asked to do this I was somewhat reluctant being very protective of my equipment and not wanting to lose anything on the trail. But it was quickly clear that this was the routine and just like I wouldn’t be walking off with someone else’s shoes I could expect that others would provide the same courtesy to me.

Disposable bed linens to limit bedbug exposure

After stripping my bed (meaning tossing the paper sheets and pillow cases we were given) and packing up my small backpack, I gingerly made my way down the steep two stories of stairs to the entrance where I would retrieve my shoes and walking poles. My shoes were exactly where I had left them. The walking poles were missing. I quickly glanced around the room in case they had been moved into one of the other upright containers that stored poles overnight. They were not in sight.

It was interesting what happened next. I immediately accepted that someone “borrowed” my sticks, realized that I would need to make today’s 24 km trek without poles and commit to buying new poles at my next nightly stop. I say my reaction was interesting because if this had happened prior to the Camino, this minor injustice would have likely stayed with me at least for the day, if not longer. I would have been cursing under my breath at the inconsiderate act of stealing my poles

(By the way, I did assume they were stolen. Sarria, the last village I was in, was another official starting point for those who were planning a one week Camino. The number of pilgrims literally grew by a factor of ten. It was likely that some poor bloke had just started the Camino without poles and quickly realized he/she/they needed them. Mine were a bright orangish-gold color that easily caught the eye.)

But, something about the process of pilgrimage teaches one to see things not in terms of good or bad, but just in terms of opportunities and challenges. I wasn’t going to waste any mental or emotional energy on being angry or resentful when I would need that energy to navigate the day’s kilometers. Plus, if my mind and heart was filled with resentment I would miss the other emotional gifts of the day.

Thank you, Jane!

Which is exactly what happened. I navigated the day pretty well. But at about the fifteenth kilometer my rehabbed left leg was beginning to ache and hurt. A slight limp was showing up. I never felt like I was depending on my poles all that heavily, but now without them my left leg was suffering under the extra exertion. As I began to make my way down a hill, my limp became much more pronounced and I began grimacing with each step. I still had at least five kilometers to reach the town of Palas de Rei and I began to wonder if my leg would take me that far.

From behind me I heard a voice, “Hey, are you are okay? Are you hurt?” I stopped and two women came up behind me. “I think my poles got stolen this morning and I have an injured leg. I didn’t realize how much I was depending on the poles to support me,” I said. “Here,” said Jane, “why don’t you take one of my poles and when you get to the next town you can pick up some new poles and return mine then?”

I was very grateful. I am not used to people taking care of me. So much of the leftovers of my childhood is this assumption that I need to take care of myself and figure things out on my own. Depending on others is not in my wiring. It wasn’t just that I was grateful for the help. I was also grateful that I accepted the graceful offering. In the past, I might have brushed Jane off thanking her, but still limping away on my own. It’s a silly thing! But unfortunately more true than I would like to admit.

In Palas de Rei, I purchased another single pole assuming I could complete the Camino with one pole. I also knew I would likely have to relinquish my poles at the airport as TSA was not allowing long pointy things to get through security. Might as well save a few euros since I was going to have to give up the poles anyway. I looked for Jane all afternoon and evening in the village, but never came across her. I was hoping I would see her on the trail the next day and hold to my promise to give her pole back. I was grateful for the gift, but now I wanted to make sure I held up my end of the bargain.

IMAGE #2

Almost immediately out the door we encountered a thick, pea soup-like fog. The moist air was slightly chilly, but nothing that an extra layer of clothing couldn’t address. I immediately thought, “This is the perfect metaphor for the Camino and for living life as pilgrimage.” The ability to see only a few yards ahead of us, but enough to see the path directly below our feet reminded me of what it meant to live life by faith. In life we choose a path, but we have to do it without knowing exactly what is ahead. We sometimes assume that we know what is ahead, but life often proves that wrong. We have to live on trust.

I thought about how much this Camino was about wrestling with my unknown future and honoring my known identity as it became more apparent to me. As I was coming to the end of this Camino I was struck by how much my internal dialogue had shifted from what was going to come next to simply honoring the grief that I was feeling for unfulfilled hopes in my professional life. I was struck by how much I was worrying less about the future and, instead, honoring what was true in the present.

We walked up the gradual incline in the thick fog comfortable with the path we were on, but unaware of exactly what was ahead of us. It was the perfect image of what I was feeling on this 33rd day of the Camino.

IMAGE #3

Pulpo (octopus tentacles)—the best!

We had reached the region of Galicia famous for its exceptional seafood, its unique language (Gallegos) and its Celtic heritage. That night in Palas den Rei, three of us from the albergue buddied up to find a place for dinner—an American, a Frenchman, and a Spaniard. The Spaniard, Jose, took the lead. He said, “Follow me. I will find us an authentic Galician meal.” Martin and I followed Jose up winding pathways until we arrived at a busy, overcrowded and noisy restaurant and bar.

Myself, Martin and Jose partying in three different languages around the common language of food!

There we had one of the finest dishes I have ever had in my life. So much so that I would travel back to Galicia again just to relive the experience. Jose ordered us two plates of pulpo which is sliced octopus tentacles. I know it may sound gross, but it was one of the most tantalizing experiences for my palette ever. Baked with butter and paprika, it is a taste sensation. Jose then ordered for us baked scallops all the while we were using translation apps to help us communicate between French, English and Spanish. We finished the night with two rounds of orujo, a local liqueur made from the fermented and distilled grape skins left over from winemaking. It has a 50% alcohol content and is sometimes called firewater.

Despite having my poles “borrowed” earlier in the day, the day was filled with unexpected and welcome grace and goodness.