I'm from far away from the Camino--Oregon. It is much more expensive to purchase airfare and a much longer trip to Europe for west coast Americans than it is for many people.
It had been a long, emotional period of time--four years--and I knew that walking
Camino Frances would be something very important and special for me. I was carrying a lot of baggage after losing both parents, which took me back to losing my favorite person in the world--my brother, who looked very much like me and was the only person I really loved and trusted as a teenager.
So, after all that planning, fretting, anticipating, retiring--before the Camino--, getting my stepdaughter's wedding planned and finished, hopping a flight, and taxiing, crossing the Pyrenees, and walking for about a week, I finally called my husband from the large wide steps of an Albergue.
Sitting on the steps, completely exhausted, I used FaceTime for the very first time and saw my husband. I burst into tears and cried for at least a minute, and could NOT control myself in any way. My husband just smiled and said all the right things, and was amazed that from halfway around the world, we could use little phones to see each other, and it was a moment.
Was this related to the Camino, or to Camino magic? Of course. Crying is wonderful for the soul, and we can't always just make crying happen. But when we see the face of love and understand the huge sacrifice of time, effort, money--to get to an ancient pilgrimage--we understand better the enormity of endeavor, intent, and the call.
Cruz de Ferro?
I had kind of an unusual experience there. There were two gentlemen, one on the east side, and one on the west. The gentleman on the east side wanted to talk to me about the stones I had brought. I am not much of a talker about such things when they are going on, so I was friendly but let him move on. At the cross, I saw a very moving collection of school photos of a beautiful and young Asian girl. Kindergarten, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, awkward middle years, teen years...13 little photographs, culminating in a photo of a young 18-year-old, pretty and confident. The photos were neatly held together with a rubber band, and they had not been there all that long. I flashed back to losing Denise Thiem early that year; before my journey to Spain in September, her body had just been found. Clearly, these photos had been left by a mom, a dad, a sibling? Perhaps this girl had died in a car accident? Anyway, it was obvious that someone had invested years of love and care in this girl. Who but a parent would have all those years of photos? I then thought of my brother. Gone at 18. My parents so busy in their own grief that they didn't notice me free-falling into depression and substance abuse. Fortunately, I survived myself.
So, I crossed over the rocks and went to the bench on the other side. There, I saw that the bench had been provided by a group--I don't remember whom. I was glad, though, and appreciative. I sat there and just quietly shed a few tears and was in the moment with all of the emotion and loss experienced by so many others. That's when the west guy walked up with his beautiful little dog, long flowing hair and blue eyes. An older gentleman--in his 60's at least--he had started the walk much earlier that day. I saw him when I was at a square pool of water, kind of a fountain. He had driven up, gotten his little dog out, gotten his stick out, and started walking. Now he was hiking back.
He let me pet his dog, and we exchanged friendly words--and he was a very gentle, handsome, kind person. I am sure that he was one of those angels unawares who notices people and just does the right thing. His little dog--a Jack Russel terrier--frolicked around and brought a smile to my face.
The weather started moving in again--a little wind arose, and it was a bitterly cold day. I bid the fellow goodbye, and he hiked through the trees on the opposite side of the road. I got up and began a long walk. It was an early November day.
Which place(s) was the most emotional for you during El Camino?
