alansykes
Veteran Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- Except the Francés
Saint Andrew's Day. 10 years ago today I was sitting at my first mass in Santiago cathedral, at the time speaking virtually no Spanish, when I picked up the archbishop's list of recently arrived pilgrims and realised that the "uno del Reino Unido, desde Sevilla" must be referring to me.
It was an almost embarrassingly moving moment. I don't know if it was then that what I had assumed was a one off "bucket list" walk in memory of my recently deceased mother turned into a probably lifetime addiction, but it certainly helped the process.
I had hoped to arrive in Santiago today and once more assist at St Andrew's Mass (I am partly Scottish and my farm is within sight of its border).
Sadly it was not to be. But I don't at all regret the 500-odd days I've now spent on several different caminos, covering 33 of Spain's mainland provinces, and 13 of its autonomous regions. Sleeping in everything from a partly ruined shepherd's bothy in the high Pyrenees to the parador in Santiago, 3 bullrings, an Inquisition prison, a dovecot, many former railway stations and schools, above a funeral parlour, in a few medical centres, a couple of town halls, convents, a palace, a former slaughterhouse, attached to various churches, in monasteries, sports centres, firestations, private houses and specially built complexes. Roasting in AndalucĂa to finding the water in my bottle had frozen nearing Zamora and getting soaked to the skin more times than sometimes seemed fair. Meeting many delightful, friendly and hospitable people, and a (very) few complete shits. Enjoying many dozens of delicious meals, and a (very) few disgusting ones.
Perhaps most importantly, learning to love Spain, its language, its literature, its architecture, its landscapes, its history, its people (most of them), its everything (mostly). Among the most enriching experience(s) of my life.
I can't wait to get back.
It was an almost embarrassingly moving moment. I don't know if it was then that what I had assumed was a one off "bucket list" walk in memory of my recently deceased mother turned into a probably lifetime addiction, but it certainly helped the process.
I had hoped to arrive in Santiago today and once more assist at St Andrew's Mass (I am partly Scottish and my farm is within sight of its border).
Sadly it was not to be. But I don't at all regret the 500-odd days I've now spent on several different caminos, covering 33 of Spain's mainland provinces, and 13 of its autonomous regions. Sleeping in everything from a partly ruined shepherd's bothy in the high Pyrenees to the parador in Santiago, 3 bullrings, an Inquisition prison, a dovecot, many former railway stations and schools, above a funeral parlour, in a few medical centres, a couple of town halls, convents, a palace, a former slaughterhouse, attached to various churches, in monasteries, sports centres, firestations, private houses and specially built complexes. Roasting in AndalucĂa to finding the water in my bottle had frozen nearing Zamora and getting soaked to the skin more times than sometimes seemed fair. Meeting many delightful, friendly and hospitable people, and a (very) few complete shits. Enjoying many dozens of delicious meals, and a (very) few disgusting ones.
Perhaps most importantly, learning to love Spain, its language, its literature, its architecture, its landscapes, its history, its people (most of them), its everything (mostly). Among the most enriching experience(s) of my life.
I can't wait to get back.
