A Million Steps (19 page)

Day 27

Next to Last Day

I woke up in my hotel and took a nice, long, hot shower. After the shower, I filled the tub to give my feet some extra soaking time.

I began the day’s walk with a climb up a gradual hill overlooking the city of Aruza. It was completely socked in by fog. The mountain peaks looked like islands in a sea of white mist.

I walked without effort for the entire day. The scenery was once again divine under cloudy skies, with just a few raindrops. During the day I found out why my poncho was so inexpensive as a giant hole erupted in the seam by my head. I was not in a hurry but was beginning to build some serious anticipation for my arrival in Santiago.

My final albergue, in the village of Arca, could not have been nicer. No bunks or rails constricted my legs and feet, and memory foam mattresses rounded out the perks of the sleeping arrangements. The staff was delightful. While I took a shower, my clothes enjoyed their fourth machine wash in 30 days. Both Glendas stayed at the same hostel, and we had a nice chat while waiting for my clothes to dry.

Later in the day, I spent some time in the village and ate some ice cream. While trying to be present in the moment, my mind couldn’t help looking into the future of Santiago in less than 24 hours. At home, Roberta must have been doing the same. When I checked my e-mail, I found a note from her: “Honey, Congratulations on your arrival in Santiago,” it read. “Love, Robin.” The short message filled me with longing. I missed her. I missed us.

While walking down the street that evening, I ran into Bonnie, Fred, and Mikkel. I spent my last dinner as a pilgrim with these wonderful people. After dinner, the rain poured, filling the streets with several inches of water.

Back at the hostel that night, I was filled with my experiences on the Camino. I felt the truth of the belief that the last third of this trip is “for the soul.”

Before this trip, I realized that contentment had made only brief appearances in my life. I had been stuck in a pattern of regret and salvation. I spent most of my time either dwelling on dismal events of the past or striving to accomplish something in the future. I had happy times but tended to stray from the point where life is lived…NOW.

On the Camino, strangers from throughout the world changed my viewpoints and became my friends. My body gained strength and endurance. My mind refreshed itself by living in the moment for much of each day. My appreciation and need for nature grew to unprecedented levels. The Camino had smoothed out my rougher edges. I had learned to roll with the punches and let things happen as opposed to my previous feeble attempts to make them happen.

These were the gifts I wanted to take home.

Day 28

Santiago!

I walked alone on the final day. I wanted to be lost in my own thoughts and to experience emotions without interference. The rain drizzled or poured throughout the entire day. While physically soaked, wet clothing was the furthest thing from my mind. I would have been oblivious to a hurricane.

Rain falls, adversity discourages, and pain hurts. They are all inevitable. The Camino taught me to go with the flow of these uncontrollable situations. We all control the reaction.

The miles were effortless. At one point, the Camino took me by a fence that caged the airport runway. It was odd to imagine that a taxi would deliver me to that airport for the beginning of my trip home in three days.

The hole in my poncho had grown king-sized, which aided the rain in soaking my body. The vinyl also acted as a form of insulation, which raised my internal temperature to a high level. At random times, I listened to music and wondered what perfect song would play when my eyes saw Santiago. That anticipation, however, was soon short-circuited. It was so hot and moist under my poncho that my music player shorted out! Pink Floyd’s
Comfortably Numb
stopped mid-stream. Kaput! Gonzo!

My luck was never-ending. I figured it was much better to fry my music player at the finish line instead of day two. Apparently, my arrival song was meant to be silence.

On my five-hour walk to Santiago I am sure that I experienced every emotion––immense joy, a great sense of accomplishment, intense sadness, and fulfilled contentment. In a random fashion, I danced, sang, and cried. Each emotion hit me like a wave without notice or warning. I think the ups and downs that developed in my mind were due to the anticipation of arriving at the cathedral. I imagine the feeling is similar to the moment before walking down the aisle to be married or perhaps knowing that you took a breath and have only 10 left. It was intense anticipation of the inevitable and unknown.

I finally came upon a hill and saw the beautiful city of Santiago. Through uncontrollable tears I couldn’t see the cathedral, but the end of the end was surely in sight.

The city was quite a bit larger than expected, with a metropolitan population exceeding 150,000. I could see a few pilgrims ahead and a few behind, but most of the people were just going about their normal daily activities. It felt so strange to experience a day that I will never forget while being surrounded by such normalcy.

My trust and faith in the little yellow arrows took me to the famous Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. When my eyes saw the building and my ears heard the notes from a solo bagpiper, I burst into tears again. The church was breathtaking with its intricate statues, monuments, and towers. Like so many other pilgrims, I just sat on a stone wall and basked in the sights.

After about 25 dazed minutes, I followed the sound of the bagpipes through a covered stairwell. The music took on a different tone in the enclosed space. The stairs took me to the Plaza del Obradoiro in front of the main entrance to the church. The square buzzed with arriving pilgrims surrounded by bewildered friends and family. On this ground level, one set of stairs went left and another went to the right before meeting in the middle at the top of the second flight. Behind me, an exceptional view of the square led to two sets of gigantic copper doors that provided entrance to the church.

The interior of the facility was shaped like a cross. The front doors took me to its base. An aisle separated two sets of pews. On the outer edge of every fourth pew, a gigantic stone pillar climbed all the way to the ceiling. Next to the pillars, larger aisles allowed people to mingle throughout the church. The altar area rested in the “top” of the cross. A two- or three-story gold structure framed the actual altar. The intricate design included several angels and a statue of St. James. The shorter portion of the “cross” also had pews, pillars, and a set of large doors at each end. Hanging from the domed roof, a lone rope connected to a large silver
botafumeiro
incense burner.

It had been my understanding that the swinging of the incense burner was only performed on Sundays. But Camino luck was still with me. Due to the Friday holiday, the ceremony was scheduled every day of that week.

At least 1,500 people packed into the cathedral to celebrate the noon service. No seats were available but I but found a nice location with a view. I had not been in my position for more than a few minutes when a door opened and nine robed men and a nun began the short procession to the altar. The nun sang the vespers to begin the service, her single voice filling the entire church. Since the service was in Spanish, I could not comprehend the words but did feel at home inside the huge space. During the mass, I mingled up and down the aisles outside of the pews. My eyes welled with tears each time I made eye contact with pilgrims I had met along the way.

At the end of the service, eight men in maroon robes made their way toward the five-foot-tall, 175-pound botafumeiro filled with charcoal and incense. It hung by a thick rope attached to an ancient wheeled pulley mechanism at the dome above the altar. The other end of the rope hooked to a pillar in the cathedral. The
tiraboleiros
unraveled the long thick rope and moved to the area below the altar. They formed a circle to grasp individual cords attached to the main rope. In unison and with tremendous power, their bodies contorted to pull the rope to the ground followed by a movement that maximized the distance between their feet and hands holding the ropes. Their graceful movements reminded me of a ballet. They repeated this process as the canister began to swing back and forth like a pendulum across the cathedral at speeds reaching 40 miles per hour. The arc of the botafumeiro reached 71 yards. The cathedral doors were opened to provide some ventilation for the massive clouds of smoke. Tears streamed out of my eyes as I witnessed one of the most beautiful scenes in my entire life

After the service, a couple looked at me and pointed to their camera. I thought they wanted me to take a picture of them. As I tried to take their camera, they pulled away from me. We did this about three times before I realized they wanted to take a picture of me. In my boots and hat, with my pack on my back, I must have looked like the quintessential peregrino. Once I understood what they wanted, I was happy to pose. After their camera snapped, it set off a flood of people doing the same thing. This paparazzi moment was pretty humorous, especially knowing, as I did, the great diversity of Camino pilgrims.

While meandering around the church, I saw many friends who had found a special place in my heart during the previous month. Some of these people included Zenira, Bonnie, Alberto, Fred, Eugina, Melinda, Mikkel, Judith, Nicole, and the Glendas. Several additional hugs were shared with people who I recognized but could not name.

At last, I took a short walk to the pilgrim’s office to collect my
Compostela
. I climbed two flights of stairs and waited in line for a few minutes. When it was my turn, an assistant escorted me to a small counter where a man asked me a few questions. He viewed my credential stamps and generated my certificate of completion. The first name always has a Latin reference and mine was printed as “Conradum.” On October 11, I became one of several million people to have walked the Camino de Santiago. Contentment filled my soul. Walking out of the office, the sense of loss associated with arrival turned into a feeling of another new beginning.

I made arrangements to meet my South African friends Annette and Melinda in the cathedral square at 6:30 that evening. With a great feeling of satisfaction, I began the search for my luxury hotel.

En route to the hotel, I found a shipping service to transport my beloved Duran safely to Boise. The fee was 15 times the walking stick’s original cost. I would have paid more. He was destined for a few nights wrapped in brown paper in a cardboard box while waiting for Fed Ex to complete the trip to Idaho. Exiting the store without my pal was like losing an appendage. The lack of “clack” was deafening.

The NH Obradoiro was about a 10-minute walk from the Cathedral. The exterior of the hotel looked like a metallic gray rectangular box. The sleek black windows gave it an added touch of class. The extremely clean lobby presented an edgy sense of modern refinement. It reminded me of the Nines Hotel in Portland where Roberta and I had celebrated her birthday a few months before.

My king-sized bed was covered with thick white linen and topped with a green blanket along the bottom edge. A cream-colored canopy covered the ceiling above the bed. The bathroom was crisp and modern. There were so many buttons and gadgets in the shower that I almost called the front desk for directions on how to obtain warm water. After getting situated, I found a comfortable spot on the gigantic bed and pondered the events of the last month. It was hard to imagine that my personal history now included the walk on the Camino de Santiago.

At 6:30, I met my friends in front of the cathedral. We walked through the maze of shops and restaurants that crowd the area by the cathedral. It took about five minutes to find the perfect dinner location on an outdoor patio of a nice café. Before we had a chance to order, Mikkel and Fred happened by and immediately joined us for dinner. After the meal, I made a date with Annette and Melinda for a final coffee in the morning.

Back at the palace, I used every possible amenity at the hotel. I went to the spa where I roasted in the sauna and melted in the steam room. In between warm chambers, I took a cooling dip in the indoor pool. Throughout this entire period, my mind and body were having king-sized fantasies about a king-sized bed. Sheets with an actual thread count awaited me in room 305.