Weight

I could go all kinds of directions with this title, but I´ll start with one of the less obvious. Well, actually, I´ll start with the events of last night and then get to the title. After I finished writing the last entry on the frustrating on-and-off internet connection in one of the many bars, I had what felt like a very large dinner of a bell pepper (red again), banana, cheese, and an entire loaf of bread. I then walked about the town a bit more before returning to find my two German friends from the night before eating dinner. They shared some rice with me and we had a good conversation about food and culture.

Today was not only my last day but (somewhat appropriately) my hardest as well, and the reason is related to the title of this entry. You see, after yesterday the blister on my heel had reached Godzilla-like proportions and had more than just "scratched the surface," so to speak. I thought the new moleskin sticker would work to reduce friction, but it immediately came off when I tried to put on my boot. Walking actually brought tears to my eyes, so I made the quick decision to hang my boots by their laces over my pack and walk the final 20 km to Santiago in socks and my already old and worn-out Adidas soccer sandals. Just to paint you a picture, these (I´m wearing them now after having washed them with hot water and soap) are the ones that have those little nubs to "massage" your feet (though half of the ones on this pair were already worn off). They weren´t too uncomfortable with socks, actually, but I don´t expect to keep them for long after my return to the States.

Anyway, the sandals wouldn´t ahve been so bad, but I had also just added about 5 pounds to the load on my back, which led to some extreme discomfort on my hips, where most of the weight of the pack rests. If you´re lucky, I´ll still have the bruises on my waist to show my close friends and family and those who pay the cover charge.

The approach to the city was actually quite joyful and there was a palpable excitement at Monte do Gozo (Mountain of Joy, named for the reaction to seeing the cathedral only 5 km away). I also got to meet and talk to a Spanish man who is walking with his wife from a town right before Sarría after having promised after two miscarriages to walk to Santiago if God blessed them with a third healthy child. As we talked, we were hailed by an American woman from LA who is walking with her sister and 78-year-old mother (it was her idea, apparently) from Sarría and is a widowed mother of two. I was struck to meet two such wounded people on the same day and to learn their reasons for walking, and I expect there are many more who walk because of other, perhaps less obvious wounds. Thankfully the Lord of the Camino is also the Prince of Peace and a God of healing. As they say in Return of the King (the book version and yes, I´m a nerd), "The hands of the king are the hands of a healer."

I was so tired of the extra weight that I found an albergue at the outskirts of the city where I got a bed for two nights and (more importantly at the time) a place to keep my pack while I walked on into the city. This place is very welcoming, but also extremely New Age with all sorts of religious symbols and Celtic runes. It seems like pretty much anything goes (even cherubs) except for crosses, which are nowhere to be found. But hey, it´s cheap, and I just about know Ephesians 6 by heart now, so I will be reading that before bed!

Once I reached the old quarter my German friend hailed me (she stayed at Monte do Gozo last night) and we went to mass together. I must say, I have never been so blessed and so angry in the same church service. The sermon that the priest gave was by far the best I´ve heard on the Camino and nearly brought tears to my eyes (next time I go I will take notes so I can share it with you all), but for some reason the several tour groups (and the restless German teens beside me) could not be silent for one hour and kept distracting. Also, I´m generally laid back about people nudging me in a crowd or line, but when I get knocked off balance by a bunch of old tourists pushing past me to take Communion it takes a large amount of God´s grace to keep me calm. It was sad to see that the part where people paid the most attention was when they used the botafumeiro, but I´m still glad that the Roman church has put such an evangelical priest in such a critical place for bringing people close to the kingdom of God.

After mass we met two of our American friends and had lunch and then I went back to my albergue to shower and change into my souvenir (and clean!) t-shirt. I met my German friend again at the falafel place (which did not disappoint in its pure chickpea goodness) and afterward we got icecream and wandered around the modern city to find this internet place. Tomorrow I´ll spend a good amount of time getting reacquianted with the city (I´m starting to get refamiliarized with the old quarter, but I have yet to be as comfortable as last time) and maybe do some shopping. But mainly I´ll focus on relaxing and begging for a free breakfast at the 5-star hotel with my Compostela in hand. I´m hoping for waffles or French toast, but I´ll be happy with whatever I can get.

And speaking of weight, I just want to go ahead and say now to all of you, I am perfectly healthy and am not starving. When you see me you might be inclined to think differently, but whatever it looks like, no matter how much weight I´ve lost (I won´t know that until I see a scale at home), I am in perfect health and there is no reason to fret when you see me. Until tomorrow, sports fans, God bless!