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My having bussed through the Meseta was going to put me in Santiago a week early. I had a room reserved at the Hospederia San Martin Pinario for August 22nd and 23rd, but I was seriously concerned that, with the enormous number of pilgrims who were now on the Camino to walk the last hundred kilometers, I would be unable to find a place to stay in the meantime. As a result, I had reduced the number of daily kilometers I had been traveling.
By doing this, it was as if I had gone across the world to perform in a championship running event only to drop to my knees and crawl the last couple of laps, all because I was afraid of what would happen after I crossed the finish line. Seeing it as such, I decided to exercise faith that I would find a place or places to stay and to give it my all and to end triumphantly and strong. Once I made this determination, things again turned for the better. I became excited by the eucalyptus forest and fascinated by the long strips of bark that I saw cast off everywhere like giant brown banana peels.
Knowing I was near the end of the deciduous woods and the Camino in its original form, I left rocks that I had brought from home on a deputation marker as my own little cairn. I could not resist kicking a pile of leaves, and I was surprised when they did not flutter, but were heavy like mud. A dog ran up to me, wanting to be petted. That was nice; I just hoped he would not want to follow me. I met him again a few kilometers down the path. I trekked seven hours in the pouring rain, walking behind peregrinos whose plastic rain covers draped over their backpacks made them look like covered camels and walking armchairs.
My having bussed through the Meseta was going to put me in Santiago a week early. I had a room reserved at the Hospederia San Martin Pinario for August 22nd and 23rd, but I was seriously concerned that, with the enormous number of pilgrims who were now on the Camino to walk the last hundred kilometers, I would be unable to find a place to stay in the meantime. As a result, I had reduced the number of daily kilometers I had been traveling.
By doing this, it was as if I had gone across the world to perform in a championship running event only to drop to my knees and crawl the last couple of laps, all because I was afraid of what would happen after I crossed the finish line. Seeing it as such, I decided to exercise faith that I would find a place or places to stay and to give it my all and to end triumphantly and strong. Once I made this determination, things again turned for the better. I became excited by the eucalyptus forest and fascinated by the long strips of bark that I saw cast off everywhere like giant brown banana peels.
Knowing I was near the end of the deciduous woods and the Camino in its original form, I left rocks that I had brought from home on a deputation marker as my own little cairn. I could not resist kicking a pile of leaves, and I was surprised when they did not flutter, but were heavy like mud. A dog ran up to me, wanting to be petted. That was nice; I just hoped he would not want to follow me. I met him again a few kilometers down the path. I trekked seven hours in the pouring rain, walking behind peregrinos whose plastic rain covers draped over their backpacks made them look like covered camels and walking armchairs.
I spent a long time in yet another graveyard outside a little chapel called San Roque, respecting Death's inevitability and allowing deceaseds' ages on their worn tombstones to rattle, sober, tenderize, and gut me.
I passed Lavacola where Medieval pilgrims would purify themselves to prepare for their appearances at the cathedral. In other words, they went to the river and scrubbed their bottoms. Lava means "wash" (as in lavatory) and cola means "tail" (as in colon); so literally Lavacola means "arse-wash."
I saw where people had woven sticks like crosses in the chainlinked fence that went around the airport, but I did not take any pictures, because to me they all looked like they just said TEETH, TEETH, TEETH, TEETH, TEETH.
As I neared Monte del Gozo (Mount of Joy), the place where medieval pilgrims first espied the Santiago cathedral towers which gave rise to its name, I did not feel mounting joy. Instead I felt as if my soul were being squeezed all the more; as if every last drop of oil were being crushed from a sunflower seed; every drop of juice from a grape; every drop of blood from a heart.
I arrived at Monte del Gozo at about 3:00 p.m. I was unable to see the cathedral because of the rain and clouds, but I got a glimpse of Santiago.
I passed Lavacola where Medieval pilgrims would purify themselves to prepare for their appearances at the cathedral. In other words, they went to the river and scrubbed their bottoms. Lava means "wash" (as in lavatory) and cola means "tail" (as in colon); so literally Lavacola means "arse-wash."
I saw where people had woven sticks like crosses in the chainlinked fence that went around the airport, but I did not take any pictures, because to me they all looked like they just said TEETH, TEETH, TEETH, TEETH, TEETH.
As I neared Monte del Gozo (Mount of Joy), the place where medieval pilgrims first espied the Santiago cathedral towers which gave rise to its name, I did not feel mounting joy. Instead I felt as if my soul were being squeezed all the more; as if every last drop of oil were being crushed from a sunflower seed; every drop of juice from a grape; every drop of blood from a heart.
I arrived at Monte del Gozo at about 3:00 p.m. I was unable to see the cathedral because of the rain and clouds, but I got a glimpse of Santiago.
The government-run compound I stayed at on Monte del Gozo was like a flashback from my Russia days. It had five hundred beds in separate blockhouses containing jail cells (oops, I mean, little rooms), with eight beds in each. It had a cafeteria, a playground and a little market, reminiscent also of the run-down Olympic Village at Squaw Valley.
After finishing a made-mostly-with-pork hamburger with a Coke in the cafeteria, I ordered a cafe con leche and a Kit-Kat bar and just sat a while longer at my table. Wishing I could crystalize the evening, I did my best to relax among the roomful of people, who were so full of joyful anticipation as they-- no wait, WE, were only 4.7 kilometers (about three miles) from our destination.
There is a belief that Santiago offers the pilgrim the reception he or she deserves. On the eve of my Santiago arrival, I went to sleep wondering what kind of reception awaited me.
After finishing a made-mostly-with-pork hamburger with a Coke in the cafeteria, I ordered a cafe con leche and a Kit-Kat bar and just sat a while longer at my table. Wishing I could crystalize the evening, I did my best to relax among the roomful of people, who were so full of joyful anticipation as they-- no wait, WE, were only 4.7 kilometers (about three miles) from our destination.
There is a belief that Santiago offers the pilgrim the reception he or she deserves. On the eve of my Santiago arrival, I went to sleep wondering what kind of reception awaited me.
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