Days 59 & 60

Days 59 & 60: Finisterre

Arriving in Santiago comes with a whole to-do list.

After a couple hours of sleep (3-4.5 has been standard for me the last month), we went first to the pilgrims office to receive our certificates of completion. Then, despite having eaten a 3 a.m. salami and cheese sandwich, found ourselves tremendously hungry. After our first breakfast we then went to the backpack holding area to leave our packs. Feeling entirely out of place without the rest of ourselves. But a little more free at the same time. We had a quick brunch then went to mass to see the swinging of the botafumeiro. Along with a thousand or so other people. Making it feel a bit more like a production than a religious experience.

Following mass we went to the post office to pick up my computer which I had shipped here on Easter Monday, dropped it off at the baggage area, did some shopping, then made our way back to the cafe. Where we had an array of good eats, from cheeses to mushrooms to octopus.

All of these tasks, combined with the crowds of people, left us weary. Not to mention we weren't used to staying in one town for a whole day without being hurt or sick. We wrestled with whether we needed to sit with our discomfort, or move on.

When we ran into the man from Venice, who had helped me cross streams, he said we needed to walk to Finisterre. Another 87 kilometers away. In order to give every bit of ourselves to the journey.

Since that conversation, both Viktor and I had been wrestling with how to make this happen. How much we still had to give. And if Finisterre had anything to do with our lack of emotional attachment to Santiago.

Before chewing our last bites of octopus, we decided to go to the ends of the earth (finis = end; terre = land).

But not on foot.

At least not entirely.

So, without so much as a change of clothes, we hopped in a taxi and headed the rest of the way west. To kilometer 0.00. Walked the rocky path as far out into the ends of the earth as we dared. To watch the sun set over the water. And burn our boots.

"I'm not striving for anything to make me happy any more," Viktor said. "I'm full."

"Me too," I said. "This, the water and the sun going down and the ritual of burning old hurts and empty spaces, was what I needed. My Camino is complete."

All around us people cheered for the setting sun. The end of the day. The journey. The love burning inside us.

Then we went out for pizza.

And because every ending is a new beginning, we slept one last night in an albergue and got up early to watch the sun rise over the trees and the water. Ushering in whatever journey comes next...