Day 63

Day 63: Home

• Flight from Philadelphia to Ohio
• Dinner with my parents
• Baseball practice with my brother, nieces and nephew
• Walk with my dog
• Wine and conversation with my sister-in-law Kari, followed by her reminding me that the tendinitis in my foot may be better but the stress fracture is not going to heal itself if I keep walking my dog

Yep, I'm officially home! 

And for the next few days you can find me dutifully resting on the couch. Reading a book (2 months without reading... I have a lot of catching up to do!). And eating peanut butter (can you imagine 2 months without peanut butter?!).

Thank you all for being a part of my journey! For walking with me across Spain. For opening your hearts to the highs and lows of this adventure. And bravely following whatever dream God is calling you to in your own life.

Animo! (You can do it!)

Ultreia! (Walk on!)

Buen Camino!! (Have a good journey!)

Day 62

Day 62: Philadelphia

After a 9 hour flight from Madrid to Philadelphia, I was welcomed back to America with the most amazing surprise.

Randy.

There in the airport. Holding a sign with my name on it. To congratulate me on reaching Santiago. And help me begin the transition from two months on the Camino back to “real life”.

After hugs and laughs and rearranging my flight schedule so we could spend a day in the city together (the Camino has definitely encouraged me to be more flexible!), we did the most “American” thing we could think of.

We went out for Philly cheese steaks.

And I got my first taste of the “American” things I am going to have to readjust to. So many choices (what do you mean what kind of beer do I want?). Finding the toilet handle (what is it doing on the side of the tank?). American prices and dollar bills (where are the fifty cent and one dollar coins?).

And those were just the adjustments I faced in the first hour.

The rest of the evening was mostly spent crying. Tears for all the amazing experiences. The easy and the difficult ones. Tears of joy and accomplishment, relief and exhaustion. Tears for leaving a beautiful country that was home to me, that cared for me and challenged me to grow. Tears for all the people I met along the Way, that they too would have an incredible journey, far into the future. All the tears that I wanted to cry along the way that I didn’t allow myself to. And tears for whatever changes are ahead.

Randy tells me the tears are a normal and natural part of the transition. I feel so blessed that the Camino brought him into my life. That he was here to share his transition experience with me and help me ease into mine.

I know the transitions, the processing, the learning will continue far into the future. But I can’t imagine a more perfect way to begin!  

Day 61

Day 61: Madrid

There is nothing fun about a 9-hour overnight bus ride from Santiago to Madrid. Except the 5 minute break we had in Ponferrada, my home for those few rest days after my hospital visit.

It is hard to believe that was only 10 days ago. But an amazing reminder that so much can change in such little time!

Ponferrada is where I was told my walking journey was over. Tendonitis in the feet is one of the major reasons people have to leave the Camino early. Caused by walking too fast, or too long, or carrying too much weight in your backpack.

The doctors and nurses and pharmacists applauded me for having come this far (approximately 615 kilometers). But told me to stop walking. Until it didn't hurt any more. Which could be days or weeks or months. And by no means to walk with crutches.

But one person told me if I could immobilize it, get an orthopedic boot, rest, that MAYBE after a few days I could walk.

I didn't believe it for myself. I was in too much pain. And had been for too long. But sometimes all you need is one person to believe in you to convince you that anything is possible.

When Kari, my sister-in-law, told me if I did all those things I might be able to walk some more, I started to imagine that it could be possible. At least the last 5 kilometers into Santiago.

I went to the bus station in Ponferrada all those days ago to see about taking a short ride, just 45 kilometers. Slowly making my way to Santiago. And around the corner from the bus station I found a home health care store. Where they sold me an orthopedic boot. Which a pharmacist told me they don't have in Spain (Randy and I were told by a hotel clerk that Spain doesn't have pizza, which is also not true).

So I wore the boot. And took the bus for a day. Then a taxi for two days. And on that third day, with a short 4.5 kilometers between towns, I tried walking the Camino for the first time with the boot.

It was hard. And painful. Because even though the tendonitis was in the top of my foot, my heel was also causing me pain. Which didn't have much cushion in the boot.

The next morning, now that the swelling in my foot had gone done enough, I decided to try walking in my hiking boots, with the crutches. And strapped the ortho boot to my pack in case I needed it.

The support and cushion from the boots was just what I needed. So I walked that way for 50 kilometers, over the course of 3 days, before deciding I needed to trust my feet to carry me to Santiago.

So I left the boot at kilometer marker 53.

Maybe someone else will need it. Or will be inspired by it. Or realize they too need to let go of what is weighing them down, in favor of trust.

I used the crutches for those 3 days, plus one day more. My last day walking. But for most of that day I carried them in one hand at my side. To see if I needed them any more or if I had just come to rely on them the same way I had the boot strapped to my back.

Determined to walk into Santiago unaided, I left them at the top of a hill, about 5 or 7 kilometers outside of the city.

Tony saw the crutches the next afternoon when he was walking those final kilometers into Santiago. "It was like you were giving me a sign," he said. "It was incredible!"

"Animo!" I said, his favorite Spanish word. Which doesn't exactly translate. But is meant to be an encouragement. Like "keep it up" or "you can do it!"

Which is exactly how I felt at that 5 minute bus stop in Ponferrada. That even though my foot has swollen again with all the walking and long bus rides, and even though I have blisters on the other foot from using it so much more... I did it! I can do it! And I can keep choosing to believe that with God ALL things are possible!

Day 60

Day 60: Saying Goodbye

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!

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...

Day 59

Day 59: Santiago

When I met Viktor yesterday, I had already walked 26 kilometers. And he had already walked 46.

I was sitting with Tony, Andrea, and Kevin at a cafe near the albergue where they were all staying. They were trying to talk me into staying with them. Not knowing if there would even be another albergue with open beds for another 15 kilometers. Because it was once again a holiday in Spain. Their Labor Day.

But I felt drawn to walk.

And I met Viktor less than half a kilometer later.

Looking back, it reminds me of my "chance" encounter with Randy on Day 1, less than half a kilometer from the start of my Camino. Because I know God ordained exactly who I would begin my Camino with. And exactly how and who I would walk with in the end.

Viktor had planned on stopping shortly after meeting me. We began our journey in silence, and daylight, through a forest of eucalyptus trees.

But he quickly adapted to my slow pace and soon felt like he could walk "forever" if he walked this slow. (Or at least the 20k to Santiago!) So when we came to the next town, he said, "I think I want to keep walking."

By the time we stopped for dinner, we had committed, albeit mostly unspoken, to entering Santiago together. By night. THAT night.

(Kind of like Randy and me deciding to hike the Pyrenees, simply by continuing to move forward.)

And 8 hours later we did. Enter Santiago. Alongside Andres the German, who we met on the trail with 5 kilometers to go.

We were ecstatic to see the Santiago sign and stand under the archway that countless pilgrims before us have stood beneath.

But to be honest, by the time we made the long trek across town, the cathedral itself was a bit anticlimactic.

Granted, it was dark and we were exhausted. But more so, I think we realized it was not "where" we journeyed to that was important. It was "who" we walked with that made the Camino.

Walking through the night to "end" this Camino with someone who in ordinary life would be a stranger, but in Camino life is a lifelong friend after a few hours, felt exactly right.

And today the first person I saw was Kim who told me not to give up. Then, waiting in line for my certificate of completion, I saw Seth from Virginia. While storing my backpack I bumped into the Frenchman who held my hand across the streams (who is actually from Venice and speaks perfect English). And several others I had met during the last 100 kilometers.

While visiting the cathedral and attending mass felt like important "traditions" to help us feel the end of the journey, celebrating with and congratulating friends we made along the way was the best way to honor how far and how much we had all come through. Together.

Day 58

Day 58: Boente to Santiago - 46 kilometers walking!!

Today was a day of blessed connections.

I met Brett and Katherine (a travel writer!) from Indiana. I walked with Seth, a student from Virginia. I bumped into Tony and Andrea (the torn meniscus') who introduced me to Kevin from Philadelphia who just decided last week to come to Sarria and walk to Santiago.

Then, about 5 p.m., I met Viktor from Sweden. A man in purple pants with elephants on them. And we walked all the way to Santiago!