Yes, Santiago

Thanks to Dianna, Kathleen, and Jonathan for posting the news that I arrived in Santiago de Compostella. I love the picture from the camera taken last night. The walk in was soggy and difficult, but exciting. I saw friends with whom I´d been walking along for the past couple of weeks. We strolled easily at first through more of that verdant forest we have come to expect in Galicia. I thought of my colleagues and friends back home who would be waking to a Saturday after a week at work--wondered a little what I´d been doing this time in a couple of weeks. We passed the Lavacola River. Okay, so I have to tell you that ¨Lavare Collium¨ is actually a Latin phrase that means ¨to wash the privates.¨ Pilgrims were supposed to stop and wash themselves before entering St. James´ holy city; even St. Francis is reputed to have washed at the crossing of the river. I had taken a shower the night before, so I did not feel so compelled (but I took a picture, of course). After crossing the Lavacola, we started the climb up Mounte do Gozo. From the mountain´s top we could just make out the cathedral for a moment before it was swathed entirely in a fierce rain storm. Fifteen minutes later, driving rain covered us. For the next two hours, pilgrims struggled into the city in a nearly blinding storm.

But we made it. I entered the Old City, walked through the cathedral, and waited in a line of pilgrims for nearly an hour to receive my pilgrim certificate indicating that I had walked the long way. I found a cheap hotel in the Old City (a dive, but dry with hot water), took a nap, and, as you can tell from the picture, went back into the cathedral. By the way, I hope you like the outfit. Almost every bit of clothing I had was wet, and it was in the 50s last night. If you look closely, you´ll see I´m wearing a pair of shorts over my long-johns. Since my boots were wet, the outfit is complimented by a pair of thick hiking socks with my shower sandals. I expect this look to sweep the European fashion scene. Today, I attended the noon pilgrim mass during which all the newly-arrived pilgrims heard their names read aloud. I was the only America to have arrived yesterday who started in France; there were 22 of us who had walked from St. Jean Pied-du-port.

So, here´s a little story about my arrival yesterday. I staggered into the cathedral, still half-blind with the rain, and I immediately saw Christina, a woman from Ireland whom I had last seen in Rouncevalles on the second day of the trip. We had eaten dinner with a couple of Italians and a Frenchman all of whom had wanted to blame me personally for the war in Iraq. Christina had arrived ahead of me, and the two of us went to the information desk to ask directions for the pìlgrim certificate. As we approached the desk, a man heard us talking and came up asking, "Do either of you speak Spanish?" I said, "A little--and I have a dictionary." He was Canadian and explained to us that he had made a promise to his wife eighteen months ago--just before she died of cancer. She was a devout Catholic, and he had promised to make the walk to Santiago and that his first act on arriving in the cathedral would be to light a candle for her; he was desperate to make the receptionist understand that he wanted to buy a candle. He began crying halfway through his explanation, and Christina was no help at all--she just started crying and hugging the man. I pull apart the wet pages of my Spanish/English dictionary to find the word "Vela"--"Ah, Vela!" the woman at the desk responded, and for one euro, a candle was produced. We all exchanged damp hugs, and the Canadian disappeared into a crowd of pilgrims.

There´s a saying on the Camino--"Everyone walks their own Camino." In part, that means that we all started with our own reasons. On my Camino, I think I´ve learned a little about history, literature, culture, and perhaps more. Some hikers came along just for the exercise, others rode the busses, while still others carried burdens that were not visible on their backs. I´m going to spend several days here--visiting museums in the area, traveling to Perdon where St. James´ boat is reputed to have landed, and visiting Finisterra--the end of the land as the ancients knew it. I will be continuing my blog for at least a week or so. Then, as Christy Drenner commented a couple of days ago, I´ll find a new Camino to walk.