More Post-Camino Reflections

I don't know if this is an ongoing experience for others who have walked the Camino de Santiago, but not a day has gone by since I've returned that I haven't thought of it. After obsessing planning our trip for a year, I thought that by actually going to Spain and having the adventure, it would be out of my system. Hahahahaha!!!!

I took some pictures while we were there to show the differences between here (Omaha) and there (northern Spain). I know anyone who has traveled to Europe knows all this, but it was new to me. Let's start with the hotels.

I've seen photos of people soaking their feet and/or washing their laundry here. Not the intended purpose, but apparently it's multi-functional! And almost every bathroom had one. I actually googled "how to use a bidet" when I got home, and am sorry I didn't avail myself of it while over there. Now I want one when we redo our bathroom.

And toilet flushing! The flusher was always on the top of the tank, and often had a button for a light flush or a more thorough flush. These are becoming more popular here, especially at rest stops or in airports, but here the handles are still on the side, with green/up for light or red/down for heavy duty.

We were confused by this at first, but what a wonderful idea! You always know where your key is! This slot is right inside the door by the light switches, which don't turn on until you insert your card. (Funny story about this: our Emily was in Colombia this summer and arrived at her hotel late. She was unaware that this was how the electricity worked and she said she was almost in tears after a long day of travel and trying to unpack and get ready for bed by the flashlight on her phone!)

Pillows. Check out how long these are! And speaking of beds, in every room there were two single beds pushed together instead of one big bed. We figured it was because of the narrow staircases and hallways - no way could they fit a king-size box springs upstairs.

Our first night in Spain, we were told our room was on the second floor. We walked up one flight of stairs from the lobby and saw that all the numbers started with one. The ground floor is not the first floor, it is zero.

And now for the food. *sigh* This was first breakfast at our hotel the first morning: freshly squeezed orange juice (which we found at every bar and restaurant), coffee, fruit, croissants, salami, and Spanish tortilla (bottom center of the photo) - basically a potato, egg, and onion pie.

And this was second breakfast at the first bar we came to (photo below). Cafe con leche, a pastry, and almond cookie. EVERY meal or snack we ate was served on real plates, with real silverware. There was nothing disposable except for paper napkins. The cups of coffee came on saucers with little spoons for stirring.

This was our first stop on our first day, between Sarria and Portomarin. You took your pack off and left it outside, walked in the door on the left; there was a small room with an espresso machine and a pastry counter - and that was it. You placed your order, waited for it to be made, and went outside and found a seat.

This was dinner one night in Ribadiso: you may be sharing your pizza crust with a chicken, but you had china and real silverware. And the ubiquitous ashtray, of course.

One thing we noticed was that the "sweets" weren't as sweet as they are here. All the food was REAL - real butter, real whole milk. Meals (not necessarily stops at the bars on The Way) took time. You had to get your waiter's attention or actually go in and ask for your check when you were ready to go. Wine and beer were served with every meal, and except for the larger cities (I'm looking at you, snooty waiter across from our hotel in Santiago), pours were generous. One night in O Pedrouzo Jeanie asked for another glass of vino blanco, and they just plopped a whole bottle down by her. Which she may or may not have emptied. Did I mention that meals took hours? The  food portions were realistic though, not American super-sized, and surprisingly, and I know this was rural Spain and people work hard, no one was overweight. Also, convenience foods and snacking weren't as much of a thing as here. Hmmm...These are all habits I could adopt.

One thing we loved was the communal aspect of dining. One morning we had second breakfast with an older lady from France, we exchanged pleasantries with pretty much everyone, we sat next to a peregrina from Sweden in Palas de Rei, and the last day in Santiago we shared a table and visited with a gentleman from Poland who was waiting for his wife and daughter to complete their Camino Portuguese. While I have eaten alone at restaurants a bunch here, I have never made an effort to engage with anyone else. I pretty much pull out my phone or a book. I'd like to say I will make conversations with strangers now, but I bet that won't happen. But I'll smile at them more... Baby steps...

Ultreia!

Cathy

Post Camino Reflections, Part 1

¡Hola!

I’ve been home a week now, and Camino thoughts fill my head daily. Except for when I’m coughing - it turns out that the cough I've had since the week before I left for Spain is bronchitis. I keep thinking how easy The Way would have been if my lungs had been working properly, but then I laugh because srsly, nothing would make it easy except not doing it. As I mentioned in one of my Facebook posts written during our adventure, my sister said that the only way to train for the Camino is to do the Camino.

I have the feeling that the next few posts here are just going to be repeats of things I’ve posted daily from the trail, what I’ve learned, things I don’t want to forget, and thoughts going forward.

Since I've been back, people have asked what made me decide to do it. I saw a movie? I wanted a challenge? To prove to myself that I can do hard things? An adventure? All of the above and more?

(And to all my friends who ask questions and listen to me talk about my journey, thank you!)

This truly was the hardest, bravest, scariest, and most incredible thing I have ever done. It was difficult physically and emotionally. I found I needed to dig pretty deep some days to come up with the strength to put one foot in front of the other for mile after mile and day after day. My mantra sometimes was "just one step, just one step". There was one steep hill that I literally counted to twenty, stopped and rested (bent over with my hands on my knees), then counted to 20 again, stopped and rested, until I got to the top. I had a lot of time to think, and while Jeanie and I were walking buddies, I'd say at least a fourth of the day we were walking separately.

While Dwight and I fly a fair amount, this is the first time I've been to Europe. My sister and I had to navigate an airport in a large city (and I'm not even talking about O'Hare here!), the tram, Spanish customs, light rail, trains, taxis, buses, different currency - all in a language that I don't speak. We had one transaction in a little shop by the Cathedral with a gentleman who didn't speak a word of English, and we spoke about as much Spanish. Yet we were able to understand each other and end with a buenos dias. Two little ladies in one of the inns where we stayed thought that by speaking louder and standing closer we would understand them better; again, while that didn't exactly work, we each made ourselves understood. (And before I go back to Spain, I am so getting Rosetta Stone and studying!)

One of the biggest lessons I learned is how little is really needed to get by. Jeanie and I were talking about it our last night when we were sitting in the Marriott lobby bar in Madrid, and I was dressed ever so stylishly in my black dress/nightie, with my sarong/scarf/towel wrapped around my shoulders as a shawl, wearing my black hiking sandals (with NO socks this time because I’m classy like that). We’d find ourselves sniffing our clothes and going, hmmm...that’s not too bad. I can wear it another day. Or two. This from me, who wears an item once and then throws it in the laundry. It's not that our standards were lowered; we just knew what was important.

I wore everything that I brought except my not-needed rain poncho (thank you Jesus). I found I  didn’t need anything more but would have made some substitutions. I wish I had brought a lighter-weight jacket instead of the one I did bring; maybe a light pullover, and maybe some leggings or yoga pants instead of my hiking pants just to feel a little dressier after hiking all day. It makes a big difference what you actually NEED when you have to carry everything on your back.

And about my pack: the size was perfect at 36 liters. The only day it really bothered me was the last day, and that was totally my fault. That morning I decided to hike in my sandals, so put my shoes in the bottom of my pack where my (much-lighter) sandals had been. So the heaviest things in my pack were at the bottom, instead of close to my spine like they should have been. But did I stop to repack, which would have taken ten minutes max? Oh hell no. I suffered for hours instead. 

After our first day, I texted Dwight and told him he didn't need to train so hard for our planned (longer) Camino two years from now because there was no chance of it happening. Except now there is. It's like childbirth; while it's awful going through it, it's pretty wonderful on the other side. So I will be studying Spanish, plotting our trip, and mentally packing my backpack for my next Camino. And wondering what lessons will unfold from that adventure.

Ultreia!
Cathy