amancio
Veteran Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- Frances, Norte, Primit, Salvador, Portug, Arag, Ingles, VdlP, Leban-Vadin, Fisterra, Invierno, LePuy
That is a quote from
The Great Westward Walk: From the Front Door to the End of the Earth
a book written by Antxon Gonzalez Garabain, aka Bolitx.
Every year, on June 21st, the world remembers persons who have suffered a disease that goes under different names in English - Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), Motor Neuron Disease (MND) or even Lou Gehrig's disease. Most of you must know by now the story of Antxon, a young pilgrim who died only three days after finishing writing a beautiful book about the Camino, when he was only able to talk by using his eyelids and a computer voice system. Besides in Spanish, it is published in English (translation by no less than our Rebekah Scott), Dutch and Japanese, and you can find it easily online.
Of all the hundreds of books written about the Camino, no other book captures the broad spectrum of feelings that accompany a piligrim on the way to Santiago like this one does. It is personal and intimate when it needs to be, but also euphoric, humorous, a celebration of life despite all the pesky things that upset our daily lives. Below is an excerpt that recently came to my attention and that summarized it spirit.
Now youāre going to tell me after all these kilometers youāve never bitched and complained out loud because you were rained-on, or got lost, or you couldnāt find a place to sleep? For whatever reason?ā āI, my friend, have walked with the devil himself, and what you say is true. But you can give me torrential rain all the way down the Alto de Perdon, or a hurricane wind in my face all the way to Lubier. Give me 46 degrees in the shade in Merida, or a meter of frozen snow on Lepoeder Pass. Give me a line of bicyclists skidding āround the curves that climb Markina, and give me seven days straight without seeing a single waymark. Give meā¦ give me the five most infuriating hospitaleros who ever existed, during five consecutive days, and give me miles of asphalt underfoot. And signs that say āCompletoā and āClosed,ā and as many blisters as you want. Give me hunger and thirst. Donāt forget to give me a cold shower ā you know how much I love those! Give me albergues full of Frenchmen and bedbugs, and give me a poorly-placed waymark at the worst possible momentā¦ āBut more than anything, give me a Camino, and give me thirty days.ā
The proceeding from the sales of this book go directly to Antxon's two daughters, to support their studies. Who knows, if you go through Burguete, just past Roncesvalles, and see an old man feeding a red kite (a big raptor bird!) with pieces of chicken virtually off his hand while he tenders his vegetable patch, you might stop and say hello; it will be the author's father, a lovely man if I ever met one.
Every year, I remember Antxon, who was also an active member of the most famous Spanish pilgrim forum and with whom I often exchanged chats without knowing about his condition, he was always so optimistic, so full of life.
Even in his latest months, when he was able to express himself only by using a computer voice system that he commanded with his eyelids, he kept a great sense of humour; he had programmed the system to understand one particular gesture that he would use any time somebody asked him how he was keeping.
He would nod at the screen in a certain way, and you would hear the response:
"Ā”Cojonudamente!"
Which would be hard to translate into English without using the F word and basically means something like "brilliantly".
A big hug, great pilgrim, wherever you are!
The Great Westward Walk: From the Front Door to the End of the Earth
a book written by Antxon Gonzalez Garabain, aka Bolitx.
Every year, on June 21st, the world remembers persons who have suffered a disease that goes under different names in English - Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), Motor Neuron Disease (MND) or even Lou Gehrig's disease. Most of you must know by now the story of Antxon, a young pilgrim who died only three days after finishing writing a beautiful book about the Camino, when he was only able to talk by using his eyelids and a computer voice system. Besides in Spanish, it is published in English (translation by no less than our Rebekah Scott), Dutch and Japanese, and you can find it easily online.
Of all the hundreds of books written about the Camino, no other book captures the broad spectrum of feelings that accompany a piligrim on the way to Santiago like this one does. It is personal and intimate when it needs to be, but also euphoric, humorous, a celebration of life despite all the pesky things that upset our daily lives. Below is an excerpt that recently came to my attention and that summarized it spirit.
Now youāre going to tell me after all these kilometers youāve never bitched and complained out loud because you were rained-on, or got lost, or you couldnāt find a place to sleep? For whatever reason?ā āI, my friend, have walked with the devil himself, and what you say is true. But you can give me torrential rain all the way down the Alto de Perdon, or a hurricane wind in my face all the way to Lubier. Give me 46 degrees in the shade in Merida, or a meter of frozen snow on Lepoeder Pass. Give me a line of bicyclists skidding āround the curves that climb Markina, and give me seven days straight without seeing a single waymark. Give meā¦ give me the five most infuriating hospitaleros who ever existed, during five consecutive days, and give me miles of asphalt underfoot. And signs that say āCompletoā and āClosed,ā and as many blisters as you want. Give me hunger and thirst. Donāt forget to give me a cold shower ā you know how much I love those! Give me albergues full of Frenchmen and bedbugs, and give me a poorly-placed waymark at the worst possible momentā¦ āBut more than anything, give me a Camino, and give me thirty days.ā
The proceeding from the sales of this book go directly to Antxon's two daughters, to support their studies. Who knows, if you go through Burguete, just past Roncesvalles, and see an old man feeding a red kite (a big raptor bird!) with pieces of chicken virtually off his hand while he tenders his vegetable patch, you might stop and say hello; it will be the author's father, a lovely man if I ever met one.
Every year, I remember Antxon, who was also an active member of the most famous Spanish pilgrim forum and with whom I often exchanged chats without knowing about his condition, he was always so optimistic, so full of life.
Even in his latest months, when he was able to express himself only by using a computer voice system that he commanded with his eyelids, he kept a great sense of humour; he had programmed the system to understand one particular gesture that he would use any time somebody asked him how he was keeping.
He would nod at the screen in a certain way, and you would hear the response:
"Ā”Cojonudamente!"
Which would be hard to translate into English without using the F word and basically means something like "brilliantly".
A big hug, great pilgrim, wherever you are!
