Chapter Twenty-Six: Right in the Middle

My two fellow Americans and I arrived ahead of time yesterday afternoon to find an actual seat at the bar. About an hour later, seats were taken, people were crammed into every corner possible, and you could barely hear the person next to you as plasma t.v.s were displayed on every wall for one of the most important games of the season.

Now I do not know much about soccer, or fútbol in this case. I do know, however, that it makes up a part of life and creates the way of people here. Those who once were friends, become enemies and those who were once enemies become friends in a split second. In that split second depending on if you are for Barcelona or Real Madrid, your entire outlook on friendship can change.

As it was then, the bar was divided. One half would cheer as "Goooooooooooool!" was yelled by the announcer as the other half would sulk. As would the opposite do when the other team would score a goal. And like I said before, I do not know much about fútbol so I figured my position in the bar was quite a diplomatic decision: right in the middle. So right in the middle of everything, I got a taste of a little bit of everything. 

From young to old. I saw young kids decked-out in their team's apparel, head to toe. I saw grown men hug each other and others who nearly came to tears when the final goal was scored.

From fashionistas to fans. I saw women more preoccupied in their looks than actually looking to see what was happening in the game. I saw others glued to t.v.s and hardly taking notice to the drink in their hands. 

From Spanish to foreign. I saw Spaniards and heard their lisp and recognized their dramatic hand gestures. I saw also the African street vendor who every-so-often comes in between crowds to sell his items. I saw and met a Portuguese and pinned him as foreign based on his accent. I also saw myself and my two fellow Americans sitting side-by-side. And I realized that right in the middle of everything, we were also a part of everything there as well, no matter what our nationality was.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Where the Walk Begins

"Lo importante no es llegar sino lo que encuentras por el camino."
~Anonymous

El Camino de Santiago. That is, The Way of St. James, in English. It is probably the third most well-known pilgrimage in the world after Jerusalem and Rome. It runs through Spain and ends in the city of Santiago de Compostela located in the northwestern regional part of Galicia. The end of the pilgrimage stays the same. The people who walk, bike, or even ride their horse along the "Camino", however, begin in different directions. I will quickly explain the textbook version of where the "Camino" begins but will give you then my own personal experience and opinion of where it actually begins.

Like any pilgrimage, "El Camino" began traditionally from one's home until the arrival to the city of Santiago. As years have gone on, routes have been established. Some which begin from southern Spain and others which begin from southern France. All of which cross northwestern Spain that connect themselves to the same destination. However, today the Way of St. James has become more personalized to the individual pilgrim and he or she can choose where to start from. Whether it is the full 800 kilometers or the last 80 kilometers of the pilgrimage, it is up to the individual.

So I suppose you could say that I started my walk in Lugo, Galicia. I started the walk with three other American girls who coincidentally found each other on Facebook weeks before looking for other people to walk with. I started the Way of St. James at this point about 100 kilometers out from the city, but I do not consider myself to "begin" my walk here. Allow me to unfold the events of my story.

On day one I arrived to Lugo tired and sore from the bus ride. I eventually found my group who had arrived earlier from Madrid. Fortunately we had decided ahead of time to spend that first day to see the city and rest the full day before starting for real the following day. While resting that first day, I got my first glimpse of what the "Camino" was going to be like. Not the walk, but the people. Which now brings me to day two.

On day two we left our "albergue" or hostel at 7:30 to get an early start. It was technically our first day walking, and neither one of us knew for certain how long 29 kilometers would take us. By the time we reached our destination, we were clearly tired and ready for either a shower or nap or as for me, both. That particular "albergue" was where I met my first companions from the Camino. Two Spanish girls about my age and an Austrian couple traveling along the same route as my group and I. I wish I could have recorded our conversation because our languages connected us so well and brought us to understand each other so much better. First between the Austrian couple, the man and woman would speak in German, then man would translate in English, then my group and I would translate into Spanish for the others. I had not thought much about the connections we made that day with the Austrians and the Spanish until day three.

On day three my group and I were the last to leave the albergue at about 8:30. We were tired. At least I was after walking up with allergies and a partial head cold swimming around in my head. The good news that got me out of bed was that my muscles were still strong and I had minimal blisters on my feet from the day before. Continuing on we walked for the good portion of the morning until we came across a cafe. In other words, it was an unspoken agreement to be a perfect spot for cafe con leche. After warming ourselves up with coffee, we headed off again but this time bumping into one of the two Spanish girls from the day before. It turned out that her friend had an injured foot so her friend left by bus while she carried on alone. That is, until she found us along the way. That is how I came to meet Laura. Later on when my group and I arrived to our destination, she was going to head out a little further. But before doing so, we sat down to eat before splitting ways. In that hour we had together we talked about everything and anything. Food, family, friends, work, education, and my personal favorite, Spanish boys. We filled our time well with laughs and chuckles over silly jokes and stories. By the end, it became hard to say goodbye to someone I had just barely gotten to meet and know. But as it was, our ways along the "Camino" were at different stages and I still had more to learn as day four came around.

As we all got up the next day, a group member found her foot and knee sore and and swollen. My allergies and head cold symptoms had considerably gone down at this point so I could easily empathize with the physical pain of forcing oneself to walk. We took several rest stops in the early morning but by late morning we decided amongst ourselves to divide ourselves into two groups. Two and two. We split up and decided to meet up at the next albergue. In between splitting up and arriving, though, my other fellow companion and I found ourselves sitting down at another cafe for yet again more coffee to warm ourselves up. The thing that made that particular cafe so special was for its character and charm. It was obviously a cafe meant for and only for pilgrims as backpacks were slung across counter tops and stored securely under tables and chairs. But the charm came into play as markers were seen placed randomly throughout the room and then noticing the writing on the walls, chairs, tables, and even ceilings. Quotes, messages, and inspiration were left by fellow pilgrims. I could not soak it all in enough. So many words in so many languages. So many emotions printed on the walls for history to come that spoke of sorrow, love, and forgiveness. It made me really wonder, how many pilgrims pass by here each day, each week, and even so, each year? It made me think, why do they pass through? Are there in search of something? Are they remembering someone? That was when I read my inspiration for the trip: "Lo importante no es llegar sino lo que encuentras por el camino." -The important thing is not arriving rather what you may find along the way.-I do not know who wrote it as there were only initials written next to it, but I took it to heart for the rest of the walk. Now I bring myself to day five.

Day five went in a blur. We kept meeting people and I kept wondering about the quote I read. We arrived at our second-to-last destination before actually coming upon Santiago. In that town, I met an older gentleman who shared several pieces of advice when arriving to the city. What to see, what to do, where to eat, etc. The most important piece of advice he gave me was to remember where the "camino" begins. Beforehand, he had asked me where I started and I told him, Lugo. He corrected me by saying, "No, no, no. No en Lugo." And so he asked me again and I told him again, "En Lugo." Again he corrected me by saying not in Lugo. He told me that the "Camino" does not start in the city but rather it is when we come upon Santiago and what we choose to do afterwards.

You can imagine then on day six when we arrived finally to Santiago that I truly came to realize that my walk in the last few days never fully started. After spending holy Thursday and Friday and Easter in Santiago, it was only just beginning. When I went to "Cabo Finisterre" or what is known as the "End of the World" to burn an item that I carried along the "Camino," it was only just beginning. It is still beginning at this very moment.

So technically, I started this walk or pilgrimage in Lugo and ended in Santiago de Compostela. But what did I find along the way? I found that it is only beginning just now.