El turista viaja
El senderista anda
El peregrino busca
A tourist travels
A trekker hikes
A pilgrim searches
These simple, yet powerful words were on the wall of the dining room of the Hostal San Marcos, one of the seven hostels I visited during my pilgrimage on El Camino de Santiago (The Way of St. James), Spain. Reading these words put everything I had experienced in Spain into perspective. I stared at the wall during this epiphanic moment, overwhelmed with happy tears. I realized at that very moment the true purpose of my trip and that of the many pilgrims I met along the Way.
Early this summer, I visited the region of Galicia, Spain, as part of my Wood Faculty Professional Development Endowment Award field research on the city of Santiago de Compostela and pilgrimage on El Camino de Santiago (The Way of St. James) in Northern Spain. Two days before starting my pilgrimage in O’Cebreiro, I sat on a rock near the sanctuary of la Virgen de La Barca in Muxia, about two hours west of Santiago, in awe of the Atlantic waves hitting the shore. The view of the ocean from the sanctuary was breathtaking.
Muxia is the the final stop on the French Way of El Camino de Santiago for the die-hard pilgrims who choose to go beyond the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, an additional 74 kilometers. I shared that rock with a German woman in her late 50s who had just finished her 14-day walk as a pilgrim. Hilda was as teary-eyed as I was while admiring the waves. She uttered a few words in what sounded like German to me and I did not understand. I said something in Spanish and then English and she could not understand me. At that point, I had one more language to try: Italian. She spoke German, French and Italian. So there we were, two women from different cultures and walks of life, brought together by the Way of St. James, sharing thoughts in Italian, while sitting on a rock on the coast of Spain.
After saying,“Ci vediamo presto. Vai con Dio” (See you soon and Godspeed in Italian) to my new German friend, I walked toward an interesting-looking rock in front of the sanctuary of La Virgen de la Barca. The rock was inclined on other big rocks, leaving a space big enough for a person to crawl under it. A pilgrim who looked a lot like Mr. Braun, our French teacher, approached me. He introduced himself in English with a French accent and told me he was from Normandy, Mr. Braun’s hometown! Jean Francois was finishing his seventh pilgrimage from France to Muxia. He told me that the rock I was admiring was very special and that it is tradition of all pilgrims arriving Muxia to make a wish while crawling under it and before reaching the other side. Who am I to argue with tradition? I crawled under the rock, made a wish and met Jean Francois on other side as he snapped pictures with my iPhone.
After leaving Muxia, I visited Finisterre, the westernmost point of Spain, with a group from the University of Santiago de Compostela to explore the town and meet pilgrims arriving from as far as Saint Jean Pied de Port, France. It is approximately 800 kilometers from Santiago de Compostela, the finish line. In Finisterre, I met Bruno, an Italian pilgrim who was concluding his journey on El Camino on a rainy Galician afternoon. It took him 40 days to walk from Saint Jean Pied de Port, France, to Finisterre with a two-day pit stop in Santiago to obtain his Compostela, a document that certifies having walked for over 100 kilometers. Sarah, a Canadian member of my group, and I bombarded Bruno with questions that ranged from his reasons for doing the pilgrimage to what items you should absolutely carry in your backpack throughout the hike. He told us that the weather throughout the 40 days turned out to be unpredictable. Bruno packed for una Spagna calda, a warm Spain, and not a cold and rainy Spain in the month of May.
As I dragged behind my group on their way back to the bus, Agustín, a pilgrim from the Basque country who started his journey in Navarra, Spain, stopped me. He, like many of the pilgrims arriving that day, had done the 700 km journey alone and needed my help taking a picture. This picture, with the lighthouse in the background, would be evidence of a great accomplishment: having walked over 30 days from Spain’s easternmost point to the Atlantic. Agustín handed me a flip phone and translated the words on the screen written in Euskara, a language spoken in the Basque country. He then held up a banner with a map of the Spanish Basque and words in Euskara that read “transfer political prisoners to the Basque country.” The purpose of his journey was to support and advocate for the political prisoners who were members of the Basque separatist movement. After getting two Basque kisses on my cheek and a warm embrace, Agustín said goodbye and wished me a “¡Buen camino!” (Good journey), a phrase I would later say and hear hundreds of time on The Way of St. James during my own journey.
Before visiting the gift shop and finally getting on the bus, I was distracted yet again by the beautiful sound of singing voices near the lighthouse. A group of French pilgrims, led by their priest, had gathered in front of the lighthouse to worship God and sing praises in French. I decided to join them and repeated the chorus of the song without having a clue of what the words meant. Where is Eric Braun when you need him? In spite of the language barrier, I was able to connect with this group of French Catholics through a common spiritual belief.
At the gift shop in Finisterre, I searched for magnets to add to my white board back at Darlington. With my hands full of magnets and souvenirs, I stood in line to pay when I felt a hand tapping me on the back. It was Henrik, Enrique in Spain, an 86-year-old Dutch pilgrim who has walked to Santiago de Compostela various times using four different routes: the French Way, the Portuguese Way, Via de la Plata, and El Camino Primitivo. I had met Henrik earlier that week during a private tour of the old University of Santiago de Compostela. My group had hired an experienced tour guide and Art History graduate student, Milagros, to show and teach us about the old classrooms that have now become museums. Henrik had been exploring the town on his own after having concluded his pilgrimage when he overheard our eloquent tour guide explain the architectural style of the building. Without noticing it was a private group, Henrik just followed us and none of us had the heart to dismiss him. Henrik showed us his credencial de peregrino, a document where pilgrims accumulate stamps from the different venues they visit on their way to Santiago to prove having walked more than 100 kilometers. The Dutchman described his fascination with The Way of St. James as an addiction; an addiction to meeting people from all over the world and experiencing unpredictable things.
On the morning of the first day of my journey my alarm failed to ring and woke up with just enough time to brush my teeth, get dressed and grab a café con leche from the hostel’s bar downstairs. I boarded the bus to O’Cebreiro, 155 kilometers west of Santiago, at 7 a.m., leaving behind a cold and cloudy Santiago and hoping for sunny, warm weather during our 1,300-meter climb of the day. The day’s goal was to walk 22 kilometers to Triacastela by 4 p.m. We started as a group, but ended up arriving at different times and experiencing different things.
Along the way, I met a young man from Germany, Theo, who was walking with a giant teddy bear on his shoulders. My inquisitive nature would not allow me to just let him pass me without telling the story behind it. Theo and his friends began carrying Roy el Oso (the bear) in León, where they had met members of an Australian social project called Everyday Hero at a café. The young German group was moved by the Australians’ initiative to save and protect orphans in Asia. Theo’s epiphany occurred at that café; he would carry a big object that would catch the pilgrims’ attention and help initiate conversations about child abuse around the world. A French man overheard the conversation and offered to purchase the gigantic teddy bear for the Germans. Roy el Oso has a Facebook page that I was invited to “like” and promote.
On the fourth day of my pilgrimage, en route to Rivadiso, I looked forward to taking my trekking shoes off and soaking my feet in the cold stream that welcomes you to the town. About an hour before reaching the river, I took a break under a pilgrim shelter where I heard a refreshing sound: American English. I shared the shelter with a Seattle family of three. Although we only spoke for about 10 minutes, we established a bond that was later very apparent every time we bumped into each other on the Way.
As they told me about their journey from St. Jean Pied de Port, we saw a pilgrim passing by who was covered from head to toe on a very warm afternoon. The family waved at him and called him “Tortuga.” The Seattlelites later told me that they had met this pilgrim a few days ago and that everyone on the road and at the hostels called him La Tortuga (the turtle). After stretching my hamstrings and airing my feet for a few minutes, I got back on the road determined to catch up to La Tortuga and ask him about his interesting nickname. His real name was Carlos and he was from Argentina. I had assumed that his slow pace on the Way had earned him his nickname, but he truly believed it was because of his rounded back, heavy-set figure and bold head. Carlos accredited his slow pace for having met so many people from all over the world and, most of all, enjoying great conversations along the road. He came to Spain to lose weight at his own pace.
I could write a book about the people I met on the Way and how meeting them impacted my life. My iPhone is full of hundreds of images and videos I captured along the way. The more I review them and share them with my friends, the more I realize the amazing effect of El Camino de Santiago experience. This pilgrimage road brings together a rich diversity of people from all over the world with different beliefs and points of views, bound by a common search: unpredictability.
My students are well acquainted with my infatuation with El Camino de Santiago and have enjoyed learning about it. Many of them were able to follow my journey via Instagram as I captured images of things we learned about in class. I must say that I consider myself the most blessed teacher in the world to have had the opportunity to literally walk into the pages of a book unit. It was indeed a Buen Camino. Next summer, my son Ezra will join me on the Way. Are you game?
Check out my photo gallery by clicking here!
