To celebrate how far we had come together, Randy and I stayed at the infamous Parador hotel last night. And met our mysterious friend John from Australia for drinks in the bar. And again this morning for breakfast.
We shared with John a few of our theories about him. That he is an apostle. A figment of our imaginations. The CEO of the Camino. Or at least the Parador hotel.
"Do you like what I've done with the place?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eye.
While much of John remains a mystery, he did reveal to us his reason for walking the Camino. A heartache we felt honored to be entrusted with. And invited us to "one" of his vineyards in Australia. If ever we found ourselves in the neighborhood.
"We'll have lunch under my tree," he said, a statement I can only fathom the depths of.
Obviously Randy and I have a new top priority on our bucket lists!
Randy's bus didn't leave until 16:45, so he walked my first kilometer with me before saying goodbye.
Along the way he asked if I had everything I needed: money, water, donuts... And he asked me if I felt safe.
I immediately started to cry. Not because I felt unsafe. But because I realized it was a concern I hadn't had to worry about since the moment he walked into my life.
Some people you just know immediately you can trust.
We were walking past a flower shop, so he stopped and bought me a carnation. (A woman told me later that it's called a "clavel" in Spanish.)
The weather was perfect. Nearly 80 degrees, with the sun shining bright. Except for the few moments that we had to say goodbye. In which the tiniest cloud stopped over our heads and brought rain to mix with our tears.
Even though I know it isn't forever, or even for long, saying goodbye to Randy has been the hardest part of my Camino.
But I knew I had to move forward. So with a last look over my shoulder, I found my way out of the city of Leon and onto the dirt paths that are now so familiar.
My plan had been to stop at the first albergue I came to, just 6 kilometers outside the city. But it felt good to push myself, so I just kept walking.
In honor of Randy being from California (and because he would want me to rest), I stopped in Fresno for a refreshment before tackling the last 13 kilometers of my day. And asked the bartender to put a stamp in my passport.
"Su primero dia," he said.
The passport I started with 37 days ago is now full of stamps from albergues, hotels, churches, bars, and museums. So Randy and I stopped in Leon to visit the nuns and get me a new passport.
"Si," I responded. Because in a way it is my first day. The first day of my new Camino. With a new passport. A new pace. And a fuller heart.
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