"On this day of your life, Dear Friend, I believe God wants you to know that life begins now -- right now -- not tomorrow or the next day or the next. Every minute of every hour of every day, life begins anew. That means everything can change in an instant. It also means you can have a new beginning whenever you want. Why put off for one day that decision you've been pondering... aren't you just putting life itself on hold?"
It seemed fitting for the last day of my Camino; a Camino designed to clarify my next steps in life, after feeling like I was "on hold" for years -- waiting for "my life" to begin. I shared it with Cathleen, because the family at the wake had given her the same message.
Looking out our hotel room window, I realized that the Camino Inglés passed right behind our hotel. I could have walked it all the way right to our hotel the day before, instead of the highway. Although, it would have added extra kilometers, as it meandered West of the highway. I decided to take it the whole way in to Santiago, instead of my own plan of the highway for a few km then switching over to the Inglés later.
At breakfast, I had already eaten my carrots that I bought the night before, so I wasn't very hungry. We ordered coffees, and I craved about two bites of the lovely tortilla sitting the counter. We took our coffees to the patio, and the server followed us, and gave us two little cakes and two little squares of tortilla ! What great manifesting!! I went to get my Camino passport stamped and realized I didn't have it. Cathleen asked I left it at the last bar, but I said, "no, I remember showing it to you last night!" To which she reached into her bag and discovered she had put it in with hers. A moment of panic averted.
Ever since I had arrived at the hotel, I had been turned around exactly 90 degrees. Cat found it quite amusing, and asked what it was about. I finally figured out that when I took that photo of the lambs the day before, and thought "this will probably be my last pastoral photo," I had felt like my Camino was complete. Going the last 6km on the highway through the city felt like a formality, and my mind was already headed home. So I was in two directions at once: South to Santiago and West to Canada. In my mind, I had returned to city life, either way.
Cathleen was taking a taxi back to Santiago, so we made plans to go to the pilgrim's mass at noon at the Cathedral.
I did some clearings, and headed out on the Inglés. My trip today was 6 km, mostly flat. Leaving the hotel at 10 am, I felt confident I could make the pilgrim's mass at noon.
After a tiny stint in the woods, it ran along the highway-- the exact path I had planned to take myself! >.<
After a couple km in industrial park, and a couple km in suburbs, I was finally almost there.
I did still remember to stop and smell the flowers. However, I did finally abandon the Camino Inglés as it started meander through every city park, and took a more direct route on the main highway.
Entering the city core at around 11:15 am, I was concerned about making the pilgrim's mass at noon, so I dropped my bag at the hotel and rushed back to the Cathedral (no bags allowed in the Cathedral). The city was packed with people and touristy souvenirs and photo ops.
The armed guards at the entrance of the Cathedral gave me a look until I shifted my pashmina, which was draped over me, into a "scarf," I suppose showing that I was not hiding anything under it.
I toured around a little, then realized the pews were filling fast.
I went to the front of altar, thinking that Cathleen would want to sit there. I couldn't see her, and the pews were filling up fast, so I simply sat down.
At the start of the mass, I was annoyed at how everyone ignored the requests to be quiet and to put away their phones. The start of the ceremony was cute: a nun teaching us a hymn in call and response style. It would have been easier with a hymn card. When the large Botafumeiro (aka thurible or incense burner) started to swing, hoisted by a group of monks, the pews were a sea of cell phone screens.
When everyone "greeted" each other, I received well-wishes in a different language each time I turned to shake a new hand! I didn't go up for the host, as they repeated twice that only those fulfilling the requirements should go up. It would have been a nice "book end" to my journey, but I also realized the symbolism of forging my own path in the end.
I nearly cried when I realized that my rushing to mass where bags were not permitted meant that I would walk into the Cathedral and the Compostela office with nothing in my hands.
I located Cathleen almost immediately after the ceremony. She told me that she had "completely given up Spanish" the day before, which made laugh because she had never really used it in the first place. Today she told me about some pilgrims who said, "excusez" to her, and she replied "I only speak English!!" They laughed. So did I. She pulled her scarf over her head and pouted: I don't care!!!
She wanted to tour the Cathedral more, and we decided that we would meet out near the giant lineup of people waiting to tour the back areas of the Cathedral. I went there, waited, walked around the entire Cathedral outside, went back, had a beer at a restaurant overlooking the area, then finally decided to just go get my Compostela.
The Compostela lineup was fairly lengthy. Even with 12 wickets open, it took a while to get through. The evening before, just after 5 pm, Cathleen had simply walked straight through for hers. But I had nothing better to do, so I stayed and waited. A pilgrim from Norway commented wryly, "This is part of the journey too."
The clerk looked at my Camino passport and didn't even glance at the form I was filling out before starting to complete my Compostela. Normally, one only could only receive a Compostela if one declared their journey to be for religious or spiritual reasons, as it doesn't actually talk about walking the Camino, but rather that the person had come to visit the tomb of St James. I guess all those church stamps I collected told the tale!
After handing me my Compostela (with my name written in Latin!), the clerk asked if I wanted a certificate of completion as well. For an additional 3€ (the Compostela was free), I could have a certificate which listed my route and the number of kilometers I walked ("officially" --no detours included! Lol). I was thrilled to say yes, and to support the office's work with my 3€. I said I walked from Oviedo, and he asked, "the Primitvo?", to which I answered, with a laugh, "I did the Primitvo, then went on the Frances, then over to the Inglés! So... all of them!" He smiled and wrote Primitvo. Lol.
Of course, when I left, the lineup was half as long. ;p A worker at the door smiled at me any said, "congratulations!"
I asked a pilgrim to take a photo of me with the Cathedral. THIS is what he took:
So I took a selfie. Lol.
Checking back at the square, the lineup for the tour was much shorter, so I lined up and checked messenger again. Cathleen had gone back to the hotel. So then she came back to join me.
We were permitted to kiss the mantle and touch the jewels on the 13th century statue of St James, via a small passage behind the main altar. Like most before me, I touched, didn't kiss. ;) Then we went through a passage under the statue to visit the sepulcrum.
We exited the Cathedral from an almost hidden--but gorgeous-- little courtyard.
Cathleen was snapping at the proximity of so many people; me at the noise. It was definitely nap time! But we were both hungry, so we stopped to eat at a café just around the corner from our hotel, grateful that big city hours meant we could order food in the afternoon. Cathleen complained about being dehydrated, as she had not drunken any water all day. I told her to fix it by drinking a bunch of water at the bar. The waiter arrived and she ordered a beer. I laughed, "F*** you, body!" She relented, and called after the waiter: "and water too, por favor."
We decided against the "universal lukewarm salad" for something a little warmer. ;)
On the way back to the hotel, we passed a really nice statue of King Alfonso II.
I was so eager for a nap, I practically leaped into my bed at the hotel. Three hours later, I awoke still grumpy at the noise of the city, but not sure I should sleep any more, for fear of being up all night.
After our nap, we went on a little walkabout. The city was abuzz with concerts. The square of the Cathedral was set up with temporary bars and porta potties, full of watchful police and ambulance workers at the ready. Since we had little interest in watching a concert, we kept walking. Other little bands were set up here and there. Some squares were lit up with colorful lights. Everyone was eating and drinking.
I was amazed how much the city looked like Vieux Lyon in France. The same narrow streets, the same stone buildings, the same terrace tables, even numerous little dogs accompanying their owners.
A door with graffiti caught my eye, but a closer look revealed a secret garden through one of the broken door panes!
At one point, a man bumped into Cathleen while passing her in the street. He said "pardon," and I almost quipped that she should tell him she only spoke English when he turned around again: "You are from Canada! [Unintelligible Spanish]... Grandas de Salime!" I realized that he was the father of the boy who had given Cathleen the tarot cards! What an amazing coincidence!! We fumbled through a conversation in a mix of Spanish and English. He said his wife just finished the Camino and his boy proudly wore the pin Cathleen gave him on his cap. We told him that we bought the accompanying board game.
We wandered around some more, then headed back to the hotel. It seemed like things were quietening down (spoiler: they were not! I think everyone was just home eating dinner!)
Cathleen left a message for Sophie on Facebook that would be at the Universal Café the next morning around 9-10 am, hoping that she would arrive by then. We expected to see her today, but she had fallen behind schedule. Maybe she was having her own version of the "end of Camino whines." ;)
We tried to go to bed, but the church bells kept ringing on the quarter hour all night, music was playing loudly outside (probably from the stage by the Cathedral), and people were inexplicably yelling while "talking" on the streets into the wee hours. Apparently, this was typical of Old Town on a Thursday evening, but I'm sure the additional festivities for the upcoming St James Day didn't help.
Closing the shutters helped to a surprising degree, but then our room would get very hot, so we'd open them again. A couple times there was a strange set clacking noises, which I finally guessed might be horses (to which Cathleen muttered, "donkeys: jackasses!") Occasionally, the birds would go nuts squawking. Perhaps, like us, they were telling the partiers to shut up and go to bed. ;)
I finally located the band schedule for the night, and was dismayed to see the last band was scheduled to start at 2am. Sigh.
Just then the church bells rang again, and the street cleaners decided to run through our street. We finally closed the shutters to get some relief, and I finally drifted off.
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