A List of Lists, Memorial Day, and a Quick Vacation before the Big Trek

I have spent the last month slowly getting ready for the trip in June.  On the one hand, it seems like there has not been that much to do. On the other hand the List Of Things To Accomplish Before Leaving doesn't ever seem to get any shorter. I suppose this is not surprising. In fact it's rather the way of things in the world today.  But it presents an interesting conundrum; at some point you come to the realization that you have to do a bit of triage and begin figuring out which things must be completed before your hard deadline (in this case the morning of June 15), and Things That Can Be Deferred Until You Return.  There are two corollary lists: Things That Must Be Addressed to Get Them to a State Where They Can Be Deferred, and Things It Makes No Sense to Deal With Until After.

Without wanting to seem overly morbid, or have anyone read too much into the inner workings of my brain (heaven forbid) I wonder if this is also a commentary on our lives, and deaths.  We have this constant list of Things That Must Be Done, but the fact of the matter is, one day we'll leave this temporal world, and that unfinished List won't ever be completed...or even matter.  I'm not trying to sound Ecclesiastical here, but it does put some things into perspective.

Point being, I will continue to diligently work at my Lists, but the morning of June 15 will arrive, one way or another.  I refuse to beat myself up for not getting everything done, as originally scheduled.  It seems to me that the only thing that accomplishes is to make one feel stressed, and miserable, and a failure, and I don't think that's a good message to have rattling around in one's skull.

I've been quite proud of a number of my students, as they have been quite diligent about hiking with Ty and me on the weekends.  Unfortunately, this means they will probably be in good enough shape that I won't be able to secretly take joy at all their huffing and puffing and extreme tiredness the first few days of the trek while "the old guys" power through in relatively fine condition.  Oh well, schadenfreude doesn't look that good on me anyway I guess.

With the holiday weekend, I decided to take an extra day vacation from work and visit my favorite vacation spot in Hawaii: Kona, on the Big Island.  It's quiet, has nice beaches, but not the hustle and bustle of Honolulu.  I'm here with a couple of good friends, and I'm glad of their company.  This will likely be the last bit of peace before the trip to Spain, so again, I'm trying to enjoy myself without feeling the need to constantly do things or be on the go.

Nonetheless, I am looking forward to the trip.  I'm very excited about this group of students, very glad to have a companion in Ty, and am looking forward to the time out of my regular routine.  I have another List I've been compiling: Things to Sort Out With Myself and God on the Camino.  Much like my other lists, this one is long, and in danger of not being completed, but that's OK.  I've learned that both my brain and God work on their own schedules, and I often have depressingly little influence on either. 

Also with the holiday weekend, I'm mindful of and grateful for the sacrifice of so many who have fought for our freedom; past and continuing.  In the current political climate, it's easy to focus on the negative.  I'd encourage you, this Memorial Day, to instead focus on how truly extraordinary our freedom is, and the luxuries it allows us, and more importantly, to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice so that we could enjoy those freedoms, and the responsibility we have that stems from that sacrifice. If you've lost a loved one in the service of our country; thank you for your sacrifice; I mourn with you in your loss and as you remember.

 

And So It Begins Again

Quite some time has passed since I last posted from Santiago de Compostela, nearly two years ago.  Without intending to be overly dramatic, much has transpired since the end of July, 2014. 

I've paid off my credit cards.
I've bought and sold six cars, and another has been totaled.
I've refinanced my house.
Dexter, my cat, died.
I've taught five different courses.
I've joined a fraternity (and become VP of the Board of Directors of that fraternity, and faculty advisor)
I've become Treasurer of the BMW Car Club of America.
I've made a lot of new friends.
I've lost a few, too.
I'm two years older.

A lot of things haven't changed.
I'm still an early riser.
I still hate running.
I still work at Pepperdine.
I still hate bad drivers.
I still love bacon.
I still love God, but struggle with the church.
I'm still a sinner, in need of God's grace.

But the biggest news, for this blog at least, is that I'm taking another group in just about 45 days to walk the Camino again. 

It's finals week here, and given that it's just about six weeks until I leave I'm starting to think about all the things that have to happen before I take my leave.  As usual, the list is long and time is short, and as usual I find myself wondering about this adventure.

What will I learn?
What will the students learn?
Will we all make it?
Will we kill each other?
Who will we meet?
What will it all mean?
What will my Camino miracle be this time?
Will I enjoy it just as much?
What will be the same?
What will be different?

It's an interesting thing, doing this again.  I know what to expect on one level, but not at all on another.  This is the mystery, and I think, the joy of pilgrimage.  Even if you know the road, because you've walked it before, the road is different, because you are different than the last time.  And I find this exciting.  Here's hoping you will consent to follow me again on this journey, at least virtually, one more time.  Animo, peregrino!

The End of the Beginning

We made it.  About 12:30 yesterday afternoon, Alex and I walked into the Praza do Obradoiro and admired the Cathedral we'd been thinking about for the last 500 miles.  I am very glad to be here.

To be honest, arriving in Santiago is always a bit anticlimactic.  The last day's walk is usually a crowded slog through the outskirts of Santiago, past the airport (that we'll bus to in 15 minutes early tomorrow morning), and into the outskirts of Santiago.  We were joined by herds of school children, scouts, and other groups, most of whom had megaphones to help herd their charges along.  The last day to Santiago is not generally one that lends itself well to peace and reflection.

So, when we arrived, I was mostly relieved.  Relieved we made it.  Relieved to have real clothes to change Into, relieved to be relieved of my pack, and relieved to be relieved of responsibility for 18 college kids plus three other adults.

I know this is probably disappointing to read, but I think it's OK, you see, for me, the Camino has little to do with arriving in Santiago and a lot to do with the Camino itself.  I feel a sense of accomplishment, after all, I've done something that to my knowledge has not been done before: led a group of college students on the Camino as a study abroad trip for credit, and I did it successfully (at least until course evaluations are in).  I even managed to stay more or less on top of things with my day job.  

Did I figure out what I'm supposed to do with the rest of my life?  Not a bit, but neither was that a requirement, and that will get sorted out in due course.  Perhaps this is my Camino lesson: enjoy the now.

The kids are ecstatic: some are on a bus today for Finisterre; the rest Re here, resting.  We have a 6:30am flight tomorrow and our final group dinner tonight.  There was a car show in the Praza today, so I poked around, and was astonished by the sheer amount of American cars present, the poor quality of the bodywork on the vehicles, and one very drool worthy pre-War French Blue Bugatti.

I've been to the pilgrim office, and I even obtained a special credential from the Franciscan monastery in celebration of the 800th anniversary of St. Francis' pilgrimage to Santiago.  They only give these out once a century; that was pretty cool.  I'll spend the rest of the day grading, doing a bit of office work, visiting the Cathedral and reflecting on my new Camino friends, the students, and what it all means.

As I've told my students, none of us has ever lived this day before; we're all making this up as we go along.  Or, less cynically: arriving in Santiago is merely the end of the beginning.  I'm grateful for each of you who have read and followed along.  Your support has been invaluable.  And maybe, just maybe, I've inspired you to undertake a pilgrimage of your own.  Buen Camino!

25 miles

We are now two days from the end of our pilgrimage.  Except that it's not really the end; the Camino is just a part of the larger pilgrimage of our lives.  It's hard to think about leaving Spain and going back to "normal life".  I sense that all of us in the group will not miss our backpacks but we are struggling with how to re-insert ourselves into our "routine" and yet to be different.  It's hard to put a finger on why, but this is important, because if we find that we've undertaken this journey, this trek, this Camino, and walked 500 miles only to return home and have everything be status quo ante, we will have failed, and it all will have been for naught.  Or will it?  I don't know, but this is what we are battling as collectively converge on Santiago.

The turigrino problem continues to worsen.  Turigrinos are those folks who are either walking and have their packs shipped, or even get on and off a bus every couple of kilometers when they get tired.  Mostly, they are oblivious to their surroundings, and often rude in cafés and on the trail.  It's good for this pilgrim to practice tolerance and graciousness and goodwill toward fellow pilgrims.  In the interest of your amusement I've included a couple of pictures of the more interesting turigrino walking outfits/contraptions.

The last couple of days were longer from a walking standpoint, 15 and 16 miles, leaving us 13 and 12 to get in to Santiago.  We are meeting as a group for the last time on the trail tonight, as I booked us all into the same albergue, and one of the things we'll discuss is if we want to push in to Santiago in one fell swoop tomorrow.  I am indifferent.  While I'd relish the idea of an extra rest day, I'm also enjoying time on the trail, difficult and distracting as it has been since Sarria.  An extra day to relax and reflect in Santiago might be nice.  We will see!

The Parable of the Workers

We've had a couple of relatively easy days on the Camino, mileage and weather wise.  We trudged into Triacastela and landed in an albergue that was actually quite nice. 

A fellow pilgrim, Jessica, who has been coincidentally with us from the start, and who taught at Westlake High and now lives in Valencia (small world, yes) and I decided to go grocery shopping; Jessica volunteered to cook.  Poking around the market, we decided on pork chops as they were on special, but we didn't see any in the meat case so we asked for them, whereupon the lady helping us walked in to the meat locker, pulled out a half a pig, and proceeded to slice off five chops for us.  Cost: EUR 4.24.  Wow.  Jessica did a fantastic job with the chops, mashed potatoes, and sautéed piquillo peppers, and we enjoyed a nice home cooked meal.

Sleep was elusive that night for most of us in the albergue, even after a serenade by the local bagpipe band to put us to bed.  The once again fatal combination of Snoring Middle-Aged Europeans who Smell and Don't Know How to Turn Off Their Phones coupled with a top bunk and no guardrail a meant that Brian slept about two hours, max.  

The road out of Triacastela the next took us through fantastic scenery, the weather had cleared, and Alex was back on the trail with us.  I knew of a fantastic albergue in Barbadelo, on the far side of Sarria, so I reserved spots there for the group.  I knew they would enjoy the pool.  And they did.  Unfortunately, we did not have enough people in our group for three full rooms, so Alex and I were in a room split with, you guessed it, Snoring Middle-Aged Europeans who Smell and Don't Know How to Turn Off Their Phones.  And I was in a top bunk again.  So I got another two hours of sleep.  Alex slept 30 minutes.  

Sarria bears mentioning because it's a sizeable town of 10,000 or so and is the jumping off point for those pilgrims who only intend to do the minimum 100 kilometers, or 4 days of walking, to get their certificate.  Indeed, the Way has become very crowded, and it's disconcerting to see pilgrims with little tiny string backpacks, new equipment, and clean fancy clothes go prancing past you, or worse, be walking six across, yelling and laughing loudly, unaware that you're contemplating a meditative journey and are trying to get by them.

I warned the kids that this would be the case, nonetheless, they struggled with it today.  So we talked about the Parable of the Workers, where a landowner hires people At the first hour of the day and agrees to pay them a full days wage then continues to hire people up till the 11th hour but also pays them a full days wage.  This is of course a parable about salvation, but it applies to those "newbie" pilgrims, who have just as much right to their Camino as us "veterans" do, even if they annoy the living tar out of us sometimes.

So, we were glad to get to Potomarin, whereupon Alex and I made directly for the one hotel in town: I have to sleep more than two hours tonight.  And I went ahead and booked out lodging into Santiago, given that many places were already full when we got in to town at 12:30.  I encouraged the kids to do the same, which they thankfully did.

Portomarin is interesting because it was originally built on the banks of the river Mino.  The river was dammed (not damned) in 1964 and a reservoir was created.  The town was completely dismantled and moved 300 feet up the mountain and reassembled so as not to be submerged.  The last time I walked over the very scary bridge into town, the reservoir was empty; there was only 300 feet of ravine under me.  This time the reservoir is very full.  The bridge is still very scary.

We also talked as a group tonight about the end of the Camino, and how the kids should re-integrate into their life in the States.  I also thanked them for making one of my life dreams come true: to walk the Camino in Spain, leading a group of young people.  If I've helped them in some way from this experience, then I've had a good Camino.  

Tomorrow we walk to Palas de Rei, then it's three quick days to Santiago.  I'm hopeful that God will let us have a good last few walking days and will be working on out hearts and minds as we walk.  I've started saying goodbye to many Camino friends, but we've exchanged emails and Facebook requests, and made plans to visit and keep in touch.  I know we will, and that also is a Camino miracle.

Summer in Galicia

Every time I have been to Galicia is a lot like every time I've been to Seattle: no matter what time of year, it's pretty much 55 degrees and raining.  This was the weather that greeted us when we left Villafranca del Bierzo two days ago.  I expected it, and was more or less prepared.

There are three routes out of Villafranca: easy, medium, and hard.  I opted for easy, since I had done medium last time, and gave the students the option of easy or medium but not hard.  All but four chose easy, which is probably a testament to our current state of condition/health.  I sent Alex, my assistant, and Jesus, a student, ahead in a taxi as they were in bad enough shape that they should not be walking, and I have two other students fighting the same stomach bug as Alex.  We're six days out guys.  Hang in there!

So we began the climb to O Cebreiro and Galicia, aiming for the town of La Faba, three miles short of the border.  The climb was as hard and as pretty as I remember, following a river up through the mountains.  Our arrival in La Faba was accompanied by a deluge so we hightailed it to the one albergue.  The hospitaleras heard we were coming, and so reserved the entire basement for us.  The albergue is an old medieval farmhouse attached to the church, and is run by Germans.  As you might imagine, it's a rather tight ship.

There was some initial confusion about bedbugs from one of my less experienced and thus more excitable students which I spent about two hours trying to smooth over, but we managed.  It was fairly cold, and our blankets a bit thinner than I would have liked.

We awoke to more heavy rain and continued our climb.  O Cebreiro was clothed in fog and mist.  After a breakfast stop (and fortifying shot of orujo) I walked most of the rest of the way to Triacastela with Mae.  We chatted a while, some serious, some not, but mostly we walked in silence.  Even if you're mostly silent, sometimes it's nice to have someone to walk with.

The kids, I think, are more pensive about the end of the trip, what it all means, and what life will be like once they return home, as am I.  I still don't have "answers" if there are any, but I am simply trying to live the last few days of the Camino and enjoy them.  God will tell me what i need when i need it, so this is little sense in worrying.  Tomorrow is an easy 12 miles to Barbadelo.  We will then only be 100km out of Santiago, and we will have to contend with many more pilgrims.  This is something I'll need to prep the students for.

Reggae on a Rest Day

We're now enjoying our last rest day while actually still walking the Camino.  When I put together the itinerary I was somewhat skeptical of taking a rest day only five days from Leon but it has turned  out to be a godsend.  The last two days have seen us walking in 104 degree heat, over the mountains. 

We left Rabanal more or less as a group in hopes of getting to the Cruz de Ferro, the Iron Cross that marks the highest point on the Camino, more or less together, for a group photo.  In our morning briefing I shared a bit of (perhaps unintentional) wisdom that my father had sent to me in one of our email exchanges the night before: "Enjoy the cross, leave your doubts at the base."

 

The idea of arriving at the Cruz de Ferro en masse went out the window at the first town, where some folks went on and some took a break.  Those that went on ahead agreed to stay put at the cross so we all eventually straggled in.  I had hoped to say a few words and lead a prayer before we placed our rocks, but the early arrivals had already left their rocks.  So, we did our group photo.  Then, I wandered off a ways, sang a verse of "Near the Cross" and thought about all the doubts, fears, and uncertainties I wished to pour in to my rock, which I placed unobtrusively about half way up the giant stone pile at the foot of the cross.

And, you know, though there was a lot to distract me, and it could have been rather anticlimactic...it worked.  A few simple, probably random, words from someone I love dearly and whom I consider one of my closest friends, and who, with a lot of work and tears and frustration, and love on his part, AND my mother's, all poured into a little piece of shale I found in my backyard the night before I left.  My doubts stayed at the foot of some random cross in Northern Spain, along with those of a thousand years worth of hurting souls who have also have trod the Camino, searching for hope and redemption, just as we have done with our faith and belief in Jesus Christ, and try to do as best we can, daily.  

Mom and Dad, thank you.  I'm terrible at and inexplicably uncomfortable with expressing emotions, especially love, so though this isn't how it should be done, in writing on an internet blog, it's what I have to offer:  I love you both and I am grateful for your presence in my life, and am grateful that you love me too, and have worked so hard to make me who I am.   

To the rest of you, my family who are far away, my friends, near and far, close and not-so-close, I think of you often, and yes, I love each if you as well, though I know I almost never say it.  To my colleagues and coworkers, I also think of you and am grateful that you're a part of my life and that you made this trip possible for me.  Thank you.

To all of you, I hope this trip has made me different, better, and that our relationships will be more rewarding and more genuine, more close, if you're willing.  Perhaps this will be my Camino miracle.

Though my doubts and my rock stayed on the mountain, my pack and I did not, so onward we trudged, through some beautiful country and two steep and harrowing descents through the town of Acebo for a lunch break.  At this point it was getting very warm, so I trudged on toward Molinaseca with Amy Johnson, and just FYI, we have officially solved all the problems that exist at Pepperdine.  Details to follow.

By the time we got to Molinaseca, we were running on fumes (and probably emitting a few from the heat), having covered some 17.5 miles over the mountain in 100 degree heat.  An oasis in the form of a Roman bridge and medieval river swimming pool filled with pilgrims and townspeople greeted us and we trudged through town to the albergue, across the street from a luxury hotel.  We contemplated the hotel but ultimately decided that we should be good little pilgrims and stay with the kids.  The joke was on us; they opted for several local bed and breakfasts and a few splurged on the hotel as well.  Nonetheless we dropped our stuff off, checked on everyone, and went to the river for some food and to soak out feet.  

No one slept well that night because of heat and snoring.  I only slept two hours myself, which made the next days early start interesting.  

We breakfasted in Ponferrada, with it's fantastic castle that was the home of the Knights Templar.  Several kids stayed behind to see the castle, while Alex was feeling progressively worse, so she stayed behind to catch a bus to Villafranca while the rest of us pressed on.

We stopped for lunch in Cacabelos, whereupon I almost killed Rachel and Amy, my walking companions, as they insisted on finding the perfect spot for lunch.  This meant we went about five places before settling on one, after I had taken off my pack in each place.  We (they) finally settled on a place that was so close to the road that every time a car went the right side of my face got a clean shave.  But it was a good lunch, and I met a pilgrim named Pat who is 83 and has the Camino every year since he was 69, for forgiveness.  Wow.  What humility.

The last five miles to Villafranca was a struggle for everyone.  It was well over 100 again, but we made it.  We are in a Parador, though honestly this one is not up to the standard of Leon.  I got in a somewhat animated discussion with our server at dinner as she indicated that only one glass of bottled water per person was included in our dinner.  When I pointed out that we were pilgrims who had just walked 19 miles and would like to have jugs of tap water at the table, she protested, telling me the tap water was bad.  I know better than that, and insult was added to injury when she kept asking if I understood what she was telling me.  But, she eventually brought the tap water.  I'll admit, for the first time, I did not feel guilty about not tipping in Spain.  We'll see how it goes tonight, but I may be talking to my friend Javi, the travel agent, and Parador management, about the service.  It hasn't been unbearably awful, but it has been more difficult than it should be in what is supposedly a hospitality industry.

The whole group was at the end of their ropes last night, so we all agreed it would be best to all go to bed and start over today, which we did.  I got up and did some work this morning before breakfast and have been sitting on the patio doing more work and grading.  There is a reggae music festival in town, of all things, and while I don't care for the music, I may wander over and see what's happening.  Tomorrow we climb into Galicia for the final run to Santiago.  The heat has broken and we are expecting two days of rain with highs in the 60s.  Thank you Lord, and please have mercy on us poor pilgrims and sinners.