May 29/30 Coming Home

It's 5:30 am and I am sitting at gate N41 at Lisbon's Humberto Delgado Airport.  I walked from my air b&b...maybe a mile or so...with a little help from some ibuprofen.  My flight doesn't leave until 7:15, but I've never been in this airport and other than "obrigada"...I don't speak Portuguese, so I wanted to give myself plenty of time.  It's a big airport...about the size of PDX I'd say, and seems very efficient.  I love efficiency.  From here I fly to Heathrow, then San Francisco, and finally home to Portland.

It was a great trip for me.  I highly recommend walking a Camino to anyone who wants to get away from the craziness of the world for awhile.  The only news I remember hearing about was the flooding in Italy.  Or...if you need some answers to the "whys" of life and want wide open spaces for contemplation or meditation, a Camino can provide that.

I had to check myself a few times to make sure I was walking my Camino and not hurrying.  Hurrying to get a bed, hurrying to keep up with friends, hurrying to get to the bar before they closed for siesta.  I met Polly and Francine on the 3rd day and Annie right after Francine went home from León.  If we hadn't all agreed that we would start together and meet at the end of the day but walk alone...in solitude, I don't think I could have been with them.  Being part of a group that is walking changes the dynamics of the walk completely.  There is, however, some benefit.  Maybe they speak Spanish better than you...maybe they are resourceful, maybe they have a good sense of direction or have done the Camino before.

I will miss cafe con leches and the chocolate rolls.  I will miss the awe inspiring views...whether it was the architecture, landscape, farmland, or those golden moments we usually had at sunrise.  I take a lot away with me...things I saw, things I heard, but mostly things I felt in my heart.

When I boarded the British Airways flight to Heathrow, I  was all the way in the back of the plane.  I know you think I meant somewhere towards the back, but I was in the very last seat.  The seat where you feel like you are leaning forward and you have half the amount of leg room as the cramped seat in front of you.  That seat.  So...when we got to Heathrow, and I was the very last person off the plane and onto the shuttle bus that took me to "All Departing Connecting Flights" which took me to a terminal with a board of flights but no gate numbers, I really DID feel like I was playing Amazing Race.  I asked an attendant about the gate number and she pointed me towards security...and once through "patdown", I saw from the board of departing flights that my BA 285 flight at gate 37B was "closing".  At Heathrow, you have to use little elevators, escalators and trains to change concourses.  There was no way.  I was still hobbling with my knee, but I managed to hurry and squeeze onto the packed train bound for terminal B...gates 32-45.  I rode/walked up the escalator, but saw no one at gate 37...save a man in a turban.  I waved my boarding pass at him and he pointed further down the concourse, where a woman in uniform was actually smiling.  She looked at my passport and boarding pass and waved me through, down, down, down a long ramp and into the belly of my plane.  Perhaps it is fitting to have a miracle at the end of a Camino too.  

I am in a middle seat...my own fault for not calling British Airways to secure seats on the first two legs when I booked these flights.  Stephen, the flight attendant asked the woman sitting next to me what she would like to drink.  Water.  "It's a 9 hour flight and you want water?" he asked.  Hey, I'm with you, Stephen...I'd like a glass of red wine.  "Merlot or Cabernet Sauvignon?"  Wow...choices.  The cab, please.  He handed me a glass and the small bottle of cab, and then handed me another bottle.  "For later."  This man knows what he is doing.  The dinner was pretty good...mushroom stroganoff, a soft Kaiser roll, cheese and crackers...good cheese, like  Dubliner, and a brownie pudding thing.  I am glad tho see airlines bringing back meals.  7 years ago when the boys and I flew to Spain on Norwegian Air we didn't even get water.

Thanks to those of you who came along on this little trip.  Your comments were great encouragement to me!  I look forward to seeing all of you and catching up!

May 28 Pentecost

Polly told me yesterday that getting to Finisterre was the highlight of her trip.  She was more emotional about that moment than she was reaching the Cathedral in Santiago or receiving her compostela.  

Today, it was my turn.  I cleaned my dusty shoes and put on the best of the clothes I brought.  The streets were very quiet as I walked the 20 minutes or so to the Cathedral and I had to wait about 15 minutes for the early Pilgrim mass to finish before entering.  I found Polly inside.  It is Pentecost and my Camino was planned around being in Santiago on the 50th day after Easter...the day when the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles and other believers who were gathered in the Upper Room following the ascension of Jesus.  It is one of the holy days in which the botafumiero is swung.  The censer weighs 53 kilograms (not quite 117 pounds) and is swung by 8 men called tiraboleiros.  The function of the botafumiero is to symbolize the true nature of the believer.  And this is the part I love so much.  As the incense is released, a fragrance is spread and rises in the air...to the heavens.  The fragrance of the life and virtue of the believer being a pleasing aroma to God.  I remember how important it seemed to me to see it again.  I remember friends wondering why it was such a big deal to me.  But one day as I was thinking about it, I felt God say, "What is your name?"  Cindi.  "Your whole name?"  Cindi Rauch.  "And what does it mean?"  Smoke.  "Of course you are drawn to the botafumiero...your very name means smoke and the desire of your heart is to be a fragrance pleasing to God."

And with that encounter, I knew it was okay to press in and bask in the presence and joy of that moment.  And yes, I got emotional.  For me, it was the most beautiful moment of my Camino.

Right now I am laying across a bed listening to a wonderful thunderstorm outside.  Soon, it will quit raining, the wind will die down and I will find some dinner.  I will come back and do a final packing job before heading to the bus station in the morning for Lisbon.

5/27 The End of the World

Happy birthday Eloise!  I hope your day is grand and full of the things you love.  Whenever I hear a cello piece, I think of you.  Big loves...big hugs...

Polly and Annie left for Finisterre around 6:30 and I left the aubergue for the bus station around 8.  It was a short but painful walk.  I thought I could catch an earlier bus than the 10:00 that Pillar had told me about.  The online schedule said there was an 8:45 bus, a fellow at the bus station said 8:40.  The bus ended up leaving at 9.  It was only a 15 minute bus ride to Finisterre and then I would have to decide if I could walk the mile and a half each way.  I was doubtful.

I met a very nice woman on the bus from Salem, Oregon.  She shared some of the trials of her walk...shin splints, plantar fascists, blisters, getting a fellow pilgrim to the emergency room, sleeping in an albergue that was being rennovated because there was nothing else...her legs hurt so much she wasn't sure she was going to be able to walk to the Lighthouse at Faro from Finisterre, but she did!

And so did I.  Slow...tentative at times, but determined.  Even though I will have to come back to get the compostela because I didn't walk Lago to Finisterre, this was a great way to end my Camino.  I am happy.  Annie, Polly and I walked back to Finisterre to find the bus stop crowded with people.  Almost all of them had bought tickets.  I saw Jacob, the young chap from the Republic of Czech and gave him a quick hug.  Polly and I were going back to Santiago but we had no tickets.  It didn't matter unless there were 70 seats on the bus and 70 people had tickets but you did not.  We said goodbye to Annie who was heading to Muxia for a day and boarded the bus.  It was a 3 hour trip with stops at pretty little coastal towns.  Once in Santiago I said goodbye to Polly who was headed back to the Seminario Albergue.  I could sense some apprehension about finding it, but I think she's going to be just fine.  She has plans to meet me at the Cathedral tomorrow for mass.  It's Pentecost...a holy day for the church, and I am hoping to see the botofumiere.

I have a little air b&b place about a 15 minute walk from the Cathedral.  Very quiet (aaaaaaahhhh) and lovely.  There are thunderclouds in the sky and it looks like rain.

5/26 When Things Don't Work Out

I woke up to a knee that was very sore.  Major limping sore.  I still have a fair amount of walking to do just to get home...from the bus station to where I stay in Santiago, to the Cathedral on Sunday morning, to the train station, from the train station to where I stay in Lisbon, to the airport, and from concourse to concourse in 3 different airports.  I have to give my knee as much rest as I can...so I humbled myself and told Annie and Polly to go on without me this morning and called for a cab to take me to Cee.

Along the Camino, as I have walked with 4 women who have become friends, I have taken a picture of their footprint when I saw them walking ahead of me.  So...in order, these are Francine, Polly, Annie, and myself.

While I was waiting for the cab, I talked to a German fellow who has done the Camino from Le Puy en Velay in France to Saint Jean Pied de Port.  He too, said the  French route from Le Puy en Valey was beautiful and thought it was similar in difficulty and length to the Camino Frances.  The wheels are turning.

How can I be disappointed?  I have spent the last 30 some-odd days walking in beautiful country, in beautiful weather, with the freedom to contemplate, reminisce, and reflect on how I am doing in this thing called Life.  I have loved every moment.  And there will be more adventures for me.  Right now, I think my attitude about having to stop walking is more important than seeing more of Spain on foot.  I will cheer Annie and Polly on, celebrating with and for them.  I hope to find a Farmacia in Cee and get more ibuprofen and a knee brace to give me some extra support.  And I will remember that everything happens for a reason...and sometimes things work out differently than we imagine.  It's okay.  I am yearning for home.

The owner of Albergue Tequeron in Cee is a treasure.  I arrived by taxi around 11 and she hadn't even had time to clean up after yesterday's batch of pilgrims, but she took one look at the way I was walking and said, "No worry...I take care of you."  I secured 3 beds, found out where the closest Farmacia was, and hobbled to the cash machine.  After I put on the brace and took another round of ibuprofen, I was walking with about half the pain I had this morning.  Two pilgrims came and asked for a bed and Pillar asked me, "Are these your amigas?"  No.  Pillar turned to them and said, "So sorry...completo."  Yikes.  Polly showed up and then Annie...they had had a good walk but it was very windy.

We are hoping for some good Galician seafood tonight.  Polly and Annie will walk the 15 kilometers to Finisterre and I will catch a bus from here at 10 am.  The path from Finisterre to the ocean is about 3.2 kilometers.  I am hoping to leave my backpack somewhere and walk that far, but if I am sore, I will stay in Finisterre and be the backpack watcher.

5/25. Ruh-Roh

Yesterday I could feel something was wrong in my left knee.  I don't know if I was dangling it off the bed the night before (seriously, that's all it takes) or if it was the steep climb up Alto do Mar de Ovellas.  I attacked that climb with gusto and didn't take a break until I got to the top.  My knees were saying, "Hey, Einstein...Santiago was over 10 kilometers ago and you said you were going to "finish" there...so we did."  I took some ibuprofen thinking everything would be fine this morning but it wasn't...at the end of 27 kilometers...in Lago...my left knee is sore.  It's not swollen, but it hurts to bear much weight on it.  I've taken more ibuprofen and massage feels good, but I'm not sure I can do another 27 kilometers tomorrow.  We'll see.  

The route today was really pretty...through forests and farmland.  There were a few pretty good hills and we stopped at A Pena for a real breakfast of bacon, eggs, orange juice and coffee.  Very yummy.

I'm having a little fun with you on today's song.  It's Rossini's Barber of Seville and was featured in the 1979 film Breaking Away.  I love that movie.  Bill and I watched it at least once a year, particularly in April when Indiana University holds their Little 500 bike race.  It's a "coming of age" movie that stars Dennis Cristopher and Dennis Quaid.  Rent it.  You won't be sorry.

Right now the plan is to walk to Cee or Corcubion tomorrow and then finish with a short day of about 15 kilometers to Finisterre (also called Fisterra).  Fingers crossed it works out.

5/24 On Our Way to the End of the World

What a great day.  We left around 6:30 but only had a 15 minute walk to the Cathedral.  Annie, Polly, and I wondered if we would get emotional...the culmination of months of planning and over 30 straight days of walking...none of us had taken a rest day...and I think the two of them were more emotional than I was.  Annie was getting texts and emails from friends and family and both of them were very proud of what they had accomplished.

It's a little different for me.  I have done these "kinds" of things.  My walking the Camino doesn't surprise those who really know me...least of all, my family.  And yes, I love the physical challenge of it...I LIKE doing things I know I may fail at.  "A man's reach should exceed his grasp; else what's a heaven for."  ~Robert Browning~  But the gift to me on this trip was a sense of God and how I can share His goodness with others.

The Cathedral opened around 7 and we went in to be there without all of the people.  When I go to mass on Sunday, for Pentecost, it will be packed.  We took some celebratory pictures, had a quick breakfast, then stood in line at the Pilgrim's Office to get our compostelas.  I admit I got a little emotional at that point.  7 years ago, when the boys and I did 112 kilometers from Sarria and got our compostela, the beautiful certificate was hand written.  If your name could be translated into Latin...it was, and the penmanship was amazing.  Because of the number of pilgrims, they have streamlined the compostela process and now the certificates are printed by machine.  Not as nice, methinks.  Poor Polly...whose legal name is Mary, but it's not what she goes by...ended up with "Miriam" Carpenter.  Don't hate me, but I'm going to edit this blog post and add the picture of the compostela after I get home.  Right now it is safely rolled up in a cardboard tube and I don't want to mess it up.

We got new credentials for Finisterre and a map. and headed west out of Santiago.  It was 9:30 or so...and almost 2:30 by the time we reached our destination of Nereira.  It was only 22 kilometers from Santiago, but there is a steep climb up Alto do Mar de Ovellas.  Very few people.  I read that only 1% of the pilgrims that finish the Camino Frances go on to finish the Camino Finisterre.

We are staying at a brand new albergue in Negreira...very nice.  There are new faces...Jacob from the Czech Republic and Julia and Francesco from Italy.  Tomorrow we hope to get an early start (it hit 80 degrees today) and walk 27 kilometers to Lago.

5/23 A Stone's Throw Away

We had the best meal last night at Casa Tia Teresa Bar.  Annie and Polly had pork knuckle...I had roasted chicken...I had seen a pilgrim with a plate of it and that sealed the deal for me.  Delicioso...more protein than I need for a week, but so very good.  The server/owner was a middle-aged man and after the meal we expressed our delight.  His son was working the bar and Polly asked if he was the cook.  He smiled sheepishly...no, my grandmother.  Those Spanish abuelas know how to cook!  We had no room for dessert, but the owner had told his son something in Spanish.  As we were paying, a small plate appeared with three small pieces of a yellow cake.  A bite...coconut...and so delicious...so we stood there raving about the dessert too and the owner and his son smiled broadly.

We had an extra gal in our room for the night.  Camile is from Russia and doing the Camino Norte...she walks into Santiago tomorrow.  I loved her.  She is 20-something, very fit, married with a loving, supportive husband, and mama to a 6-year old.  She was very helpful to us getting the online information ready for the Pilgrim Office in Santiago.  

We left this morning in the dark and for a couple of hours we're walking in quiet...very few pilgrims.  But the closer we got to Santiago, more and more people joined us and again...I had to fight the urge to hurry.  Annie, Polly and I had decided on an albergue and I wasn't worried about finding it, so I just walked my own pace.

However...when we got to Santiago...I lost them...they were where the albergue was "supposed" to be but couldn't find it.  I was about 5 blocks behind them and we had a plan B...a second albergue, so by phone, we decided to meet at Albergue Seminario Menor.  Haha...meanwhile, I walked by the first albergue.

We had not made a reservation...we were counting on our fairly early arrival into Santiago and the grace of God.  About 15 minutes later I walked into the Albergue Seminario Menor and found both Polly and Annie registering for their room.  The receptionist was a bubbly, positive gal who set us up in dormitory B.  There are over 200 beds here and the building sits atop a hill overlooking the spires of the cathedral.  The cathedral...and Pilgrim's Office where we'll get our compestelas is a short, 10 minute walk.  This sets us up for an easy first day to Finisterre...23 or so kilometers to Negreira.

We are heading out to celebrate.