After Saturday's sunrise in Finisterre, a traditional cleansing dip in the sea (full body for Viktor, just feet for me), and a couple breakfasts (I've finally met someone whose appetite matches mine!), Viktor and I and several others took the bus back to Santiago.
Where I bought another bus ticket to go to Madrid later that night.
Meanwhile, we had the entire afternoon free in Santiago.
Immediately upon finding our way back to the cathedral plaza, we bumped into Teresa. From America. Who Viktor had spent a couple days walking with, and who I had met my first day back on the trail and celebrated with at the 100 kilometer mark.
She had just reached Santiago and was taking in the cathedral, as well as lots of chocolate and cheese (she doesn't eat bread and says she has nearly starved because of it on the Camino!). And was finding herself a bit disillusioned by the whole thing.
"Maybe I need to keep walking. To Finisterre," she said. "I have time."
"It worked for us," we told her.
Soon Teresa and Viktor were off to find a place to stay for the evening.
"Goodbyes are the worst part of the Camino," Viktor said, grabbing me into a brotherly hug.
"Thank you for walking into Santiago with me," I said. "For helping bring my Camino to its perfect end."
That was all.
No tears. No exchanging phone numbers or emails. No promises to meet up in 2 years to do it all again.
Because the thing that made our relationship work was that it was purely spirit-led. From the moment Viktor saw me on the trail he said he knew he was meant to walk with me. We were meant to walk with each other. Into Santiago. And again we followed our hearts to Finisterre. Without feeling the least bit guilty about saving our feet by taking a taxi there and a bus back. To watch the sun go down on one journey. And come up on another.
And we wouldn't be honoring that spirit if we promised to write or to call. Because our time to walk came. And went. With a hug and a wave and a high-five. And fuller hearts.
I had time for dinner before my 21:30 bus departure, and ended up at a cafe where I bumped into Tony. He told me about his experience entering the cathedral plaza. Overcome by emotion. Tears rolling. Kneeling with his hiking poles in gratitude for such an amazing experience. Entering alone. Exactly how he was meant to.
For him, Santiago was the end of his Camino. His perfect ending.
I had given Tony my email address right before I met Viktor and walked through the night to Santiago. And we will keep in touch. With sincere promises that our homes and hearts are always open.
It was this goodbye that had me in tears. Even though we walked far fewer kilometers together than I did with Viktor. Because just like every Camino is different. So is every relationship. Every connection.
"See you," Tony said. And I hope, some day, he will.
I wondered if I could find that same reverence in Santiago that Tony did. So before heading to the bus station I stood in one corner of the plaza. Where I could see the cathedral and all the people celebrating. And a calm came over me. An invitation to be grateful for all that I have experienced in these 60 days. Learned. Fought against. Been opened to. For all those I have met. For all who cheered me along. For all who suffered alongside of me. And celebrated our victories. For all who I carried in my prayers. And for all who carried me in theirs. And to God for being with me every step of the Way.
Coming back to Santiago, it seems, was also important in bringing closure to my Camino. To take time to pause and give thanks. It's been quite a journey!
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