Hey! As promised, I'd like to share my adventures on the Camino de Santiago, which I walked last year in November, with you. I hope you'll enjoy walking along with me. ¡Buen camino!
So what is the Camino de Santiago? Well, it's a famous hiking route, or trail, that leads to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia. Also called The Way of Saint James, it was originally a pilgrimage, but nowadays it's walked both by modern-day pilgrims and by just ordinary hikers like me, who want to spend a bit of time in nature. :)
There are many different routes of the trail, probably the most famous of which is the Camino Francés, that stretches all the way from the south of France across the whole north of Spain, and even continues on past Santiago to the sea. The route I took was called El Camino Primitivo, or the original trail, because it was the first path used for the pilgrimage. It starts in Oviedo (the capital of Asturias, the province of Spain I live in) and goes to Santiago on an inland route. If it had been summer, I would have taken the Camino del Norte, or northern route, along the coast, but it didn't sound too inviting in November. :) Maybe next time...
It all started when I realized I had almost 4 weeks of untaken vacation time left for 2019, and the only available time was basically a block from the middle of November to the beginning of December. My first impulse was to consider all the stuff I could "get done" during a stretch of time like that. Should I write a book, or make a short film maybe? But no, I knew I just really needed some time off from responsibilities, so I decided to "do nothing," or in other words, travel. :)
First I took a quick trip to Germany to pick up the rest of my things I had left there when I moved to Spain. This was important because it included my hiking shoes. I had a lost luggage adventure which I am going to tell you because it is funny (now, not at the time) and is also important to this story:
First of all, I had 2 big boxes of stuff I'd left in the attic of my former landlady's house. I found one of them but couldn't find the second, though I searched and searched. I took a break and when I came back I found it! I packed everything I could in the big empty suitcase and small carry-on one I'd brought with me, and shipped a box of books to myself by post.
An autumn rose by my landlady's house
Then my last day in Germany I went to visit my cousin and his family who live near Stuttgart, where my plane would be leaving from. Just about when my cousin was going to drive me to the airport, I got a text message from the airline saying my plane would be delayed, so my cousin's wife was like, no problem, you can just spend more time with us! But then when I got to the airport and tried to check in, there was NO ONE at the checkin counter. Apparently you are supposed to check in on time, even if they send you a text message saying the flight will be delayed. ¯_(ツ)_/¯
So here I am with a giant suitcase and a carry-on one. A lady tells me to try taking everything through security, so I do, and at every checkpoint I get yelled at--"You can't bring that through here! You need to check it in!" "Yes, I know, but the lady told me..." And so I get through to the scanner and they're like, OK, but we have to go through your luggage. What's in it?" "Mostly art stuff. I'm an artist." So they open it up and dig through everything, confiscating some X-Acto knives and some glues and dyes other chemicals I would have really liked to keep, but I didn't complain because I didn't want them to think I was a terrorist.
All this time the clock is ticking, my flight is already boarding, and I'm trying very hard to stay calm. Finally they're like, OK, you can bring it through, so I rush to my gate and get the whole, "You can't bring that through here!" spiel again, explain again, the girls at the counter grudgingly wrote me a special label for the suitcase and sent me down 4 flights of stairs by myself to the tarmac. I couldn't carry both cases at once, so I'd lug one down a flight, run back up, then lug the other one down, sweating profusely.
Finally I get to the guys loading the luggage, hand over the big case with heartfelt thanks, and get onto the plane with my carry-on just in the knick of time.
After I'd found my seat and calmed down a bit, I started to calculate how far I'd need to walk every day on the Camino, and realized that with the trip I'd booked to Prague at the end of my vacation, I only had 12 days to do the trail. Bad planning on my part--I really am a terrible planner. :( Everything I'd read said to give yourself 14 days for the Camino Primitivo. I'm a fast walker but I didn't think I'd be able to pull off 30 kilometers a day, which was what I would need to do.
I felt disheartened and deflated. How could I have been so careless? True, I wasn't doing the hike as a pilgrimage, but it still seemed lame to walk part-way and then have to give up and go home. Should I even go, or should I leave it to some other time? But what would I do if I didn't go? Stay home and be depressed?
On my layover in Barcelona, I went to an airport café and ordered some coffee. This is the cup they served it in:
Enjoy the journey (camino)
I took it as a sign. Yes, I would go, even if I couldn't make it all the way.
When I got back to Asturias Airport, I waited and waited for my big suitcase at the conveyor belt, but it did not appear. Had there been some problem with that hand-written label on the handle? Or worse, was I supposed to re-check it in Barcelona? D: I'd had plenty of time, but according to the original plan I didn't have to re-check it.
I went to the lost luggage office and filled out some papers. They told me the suitcase would be delivered to my apartment that same day, but it wasn't. (I did get it back eventually.) I realized to my relief that I'd packed my hiking shoes into the carry-on, so I decided that if my big suitcase didn't arrive, I would just leave my sleeping bag behind.
I packed my backpack and it seemed very empty, in spite of the fact that I was carrying almost my entire online store with me, hoping to sell trinkets to fellow travelers. (Spoiler alert: I only met with about 10 other hikers, and didn't sell even one thing, the whole time.) Ultimately the light bag turned out to be a blessing, and I came to realize that losing my luggage was a sort of mandatory simplification that prevented me from taking things I didn't need with me. My pack didn't bog me down, and the trip was much better for it.
The next morning I woke up and felt overwhelmed and didn't want to go. Besides losing my luggage, a few other sketchy things happened: I fell twice in 2 days, though I normally only fall like once a year maybe, and then on the bus to Oviedo, my backpack fell on the floor, breaking one of my water bottles, which then leaked all over my stuff. Knowing that anything worth doing will have obstacles, I hoped these annoyances were signs that this journey was somehow important. And I think it was.
I found a public bathroom in Oviedo with a hand dryer and tried to dry off my clothes as well as I could. I also found the tourist office, where I got my "credential," which is basically like a passport that you get stamped at every hostel to prove you are a pilgrim. I have wondered if this paper is the origin of the term "Compostela" or "field of stars," but it could also just be the term originated from sleeping out under the open night sky. ;)
The starting point of El Camino Primitivo is the Cathedral of Oviedo, so I touched my hand to its wall and started out, following the signs.
The Camino de Santiago is a very well-marked trail. Any time you need to make a turn, you will find a tile marker of a yellow scallop shell on a blue field, or in cases where there's not an official tile, there'll at least be an arrow painted in yellow on the road or wall. This was lucky for me because, as mentioned, I am a terrible planner, and just being able to find my way as I went was way more fun than trying to figure everything out with maps or apps.
Slowly city turned to country, and I used my first day to come to calm and leave all worries behind me. A hymn I grew up with in church played its way through my thoughts:
Drop Thy still dews of quietness till all our strivings cease
Take from our souls the strain and stress
And may our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace
Breath through the heats of our desire Thy coolness and Thy balm
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire
Breath through the earthquake, wind, and fire
Thou still, small voice of calm
