I had a love affair on the Camino. Don’t judge. When you’re walking all those miles you start to crave things.
We’d been walking all day through a forest and were ready to be done, but the town proved elusive. Over the crest of a hill, I spied a hopeful sign – a trailer converted into a roadside snack stand. I was thirsty, tired, and growing weary.
“Orange…” Said the voice of craving in my head. “Orrrrannnnge…”
I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention to what the Pope is up to lately. He’s talking with common people. Blessing non-Christians. Reaching out to those in prison. He’s eschewing the traditional glitter and pompousness of his role to talk about the poor, the role of women in the Church, and what it means to be a follower of Jesus. He’s doing it in such a humble way, in true service, that he has the attention of more than just devoted Catholics.
Many people I met on the Camino wanted to talk about the new Pope. Lapsed Catholics, spiritual-but-not-religious, and non-believers spoke of him with such astonished affection, you’d think he were the Dalai Lama or other sage with a pure heart.
You might have been led to believe that my Camino was a blissful walk with rose petals scattered on the trail and miracles at every turn. Maybe I’ve been telling it that way, but it wasn’t. Not every day anyway.
One day stands out that included walking in the rain on a long stretch of noisy road through a non-descript town by myself. I was damp and chilled. I was lonesome. I was craving a hot, salty bowl of soup, but at 10:30 in the morning, the Spanish are just sipping their morning coffee. I plodded on.
The Camino is the community of people, total strangers, who come to look after and care for one another as they all move toward Santiago. One way this was manifest was the Camino grapevine. People talked about one another, never maliciously (in my experience), but out of concern and curiosity. Remarkable and funny stories about fellow travelers were traded like currency. To get someone’s story was a treasure.
The whole lot of us met up in Burgos – Marisela, Katrin, Muriel, Lies (leese), Meg, and me – mostly by happy coincidence. We shared a fun dinner in the plaza with a view of the huge cathedral as our backdrop. Wine and tapas and paella were passed around. We were honoring both Marisela and Lies who were both leaving the Camino for various reasons (both hoped to return). It felt like a warm sorority of women from all over the world and I adored being a part of it.
I think I’d walk another 500 miles for a bowl of sopa de ajo.
http://www.tienda.com/recipes/castiliangarlic.html
One of the finest meals I ate… And the simplest.
Hi sweet readers!
I’ve been out of commission for a while due to an emergency surgery last month. I’m doing so much better now, but it took away time from my writing.
I’ll be adding more soon as I’m re-starting my daily writing practice next week.
In the meantime, will you comment about what things you’d like to read about? I’d love some inspiration!
xo
Jen
In some Native religions, God isn’t called the Father like he is in Christianity, but Grandfather.
I feel some holy envy of this designation because we all know our fathers to be fallible creatures. I think this sometimes makes people wobble in their trust of the Divine. Pray to my Dad? Mmm… no.
Grandfather, though… Somehow this extra generation, combined with how the later years add wisdom, reflectiveness, and stability, creates a warmer, more complete image of God that I can wrap my heart around.
Maybe I was hungry. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I was just ready to have some space from the 3 musketeers we’d been since the beginning in St Jean.
I just know I felt angry.
The scenery and weather couldn’t have been more glorious. It was a breezy day, with the sun playing between the clouds. We’d stopped at the wine fountain at the Irache monastery which made us grin with the sheer generosity and silliness of it.
Although I didn’t bring a camera on the Camino, several generous friends I met along the way promised to send me some of their best.
I walked with Gary, Scott, and Mattias for about four days and we hung out together in Santiago for two more. We were hell-bent for Santiago to make it to Mass on Sunday, May 26. I couldn’t have done it without their humor, focus, and company. Our longest day (to Monte de Gozo) was 22.5 miles in 10.5 hours! Woohoo!
This week, Gary sent me these grin-inducing images:
This one’s a propos given what I posted yesterday.
Desperado has been one of my heart songs for a long time — probably since college. Since I reached 40, it seems even more poignant.
I only had this song in mind once on the whole Camino. It was mid-morning, the sun was shining warmly on my back and leaving long shadows on the wide, dusty road ahead. I was walking with Muriel, but we weren’t together at that moment. I was enjoying the cool morning breeze, the stately poplars that lined the path, and the newly-plowed fields ready to spring to life.
Jen's Journey - Camino de Santiago 2013, 2016, & 2019 