July 18

For those who are reading for a happy Camino blog with pretty pictures, now might be a good time to stop reading because this is about to get real.

There are still pretty pictures. This morning was beautiful. 

To that, I cannot argue.

I want to state again (reference My Why) that I didn’t come on this journey to see beauty. There is plenty of beauty in the world to see without walking several hundred miles one step at a time to see it. 

I didn’t come to make friends, though I have connected with some people who I love already and whether we stay in touch or not, they have made a difference in my little life. 

I didn’t come for the physical challenge or to get more fit. I can do those things at home. 

What I can’t do at home is have long stretches of thinking time that afford me whatever emotion I need to feel at whatever time I need to feel it. For example, I have put my phone down twice already to ugly cry while typing this. I’ve tried to be strong, I really have, but as my personal Camino is ending in about a week, I am working through some of the last pieces of pain that I came here for. And it’s not pretty. 

I’m still sick. I don’t know why. It could be because they don’t refrigerate eggs in Spain or that flies are constantly swarming on food. My stomach hates it here. I got up this morning at 5 AM with everyone else knowing that I had no choice but to walk the six miles to the next town and stay until I can figure out how to bus somewhere closer to Leon, where I need to be by Saturday. I began today’s walk bawling my eyes out. Eventually the need for my cell phone flashlight took over and I had to concentrate so I didn’t fall in the dark. 

One of the realities I am facing is that today is my parting with Deb. She will go on and finish the Camino and I will finish my last days alone. This is no accident. It is important that we each approach this journey in a way that honors our own purposes. 

A gift I received is that as I was walking alone today I came across a man laying on his pack on the side of the road. You never know what language anyone speaks here so I just said hola, and then are you okay? He was injured. Turns out yesterday, on his FIRST DAY of the Camino (people start from all over) he walked 20 miles. Rookie mistake. He is broken. I gave him Advil and told him there was a town in two miles and carried on.

A half hour later, he showed up at the breakfast place I stopped at and asked me about places to stay here. I had already researched because I was planning to stay. Meanwhile, a huge rain storm came and hordes of walkers sought refuge in the same little cafe. In the end, we walked together to the hostel and parted ways as we went to our rooms. I may never see him again and my life would be completely fine, but in some way I knew he was there to help me feel less alone. 

My big revelation? It’s just me. I am the only one who is here to take care of me. I have no husband, boyfriend, parents or siblings to help me make decisions, or even bring me soup when I’m sick. This is something that I haven’t grieved yet. There is no one to rescue me in Spain and help me figure out what to do next. It’s all me. That is extremely sobering. But true and raw. Like anyone, I want to be saved once in a while. But guess what? Nope. 

The Camino has helped me see this. It may sound like I’m angry or bitter, but that is not the case. I am sad, but that is all. I will continue to process my life in the five or six days I have. I will reflect on the meaning this whole experience has had, and then I will return to my life and put this learning to use.

Here is my last walking pic on the Camino de Santiago. Note the scabs from layers of sunburn on my nose. 😂