Plaza de Platerías

On the Camino, when an albergue is full and has no more available beds it puts up a sign that reads “completo.” My trip, my experience here on the Camino is now very nearly completo.
Yesterday, along with Morgan, David, Ollie and a new young friend, Ihne, from Norway, I walked into Santiago. We walked through rain with clear patches as well. We walked at times alone, then pulling together, allowing plenty of space for all the needed conversations to happen amongst various pairs of us. I watched David and Ollie walk and talk together; it was so good to see. Morgan and I took time to revel in what we had done together as well.
As we wound through the outer portions of Santiago toward the old town and the Cathedral the rain slowed and mostly stopped. We had glimpses of sun, even, as we took our final steps through a covered stone passage and down broad steps filled with the music of bagpipes. I LOVE bagpipes!

We all funneled out into the great square in front of the towering grey stone Cathedral, laughing, gasping, many of us crying. We spotted others we knew and there were many, many hugs. Joseph was there, who we had not seen in days! He is a photographer and he generously took so many photos. Thank you, Joseph! This all went on for some time. We were so happy, so amazed, so…stunned to actually have arrived. Then group by group we peeled off, mostly heading to the office where we registered officially as having completed the pilgrimage, where each of us showed our hard-earned credentials and received our Compostela.

That was yesterday, and I just was not ready to try to describe our arrival. I knew I needed to wait for today, and I’m glad I did. Yesterday in the square, I was as stunned, happy, and celebratory as anyone, but in typical fashion I was also dry eyed. Which was fine! Today though, after I toured through the cathedral, saw the crypt of St. James, did all the things, I discovered a small, very quiet side chapel designated for silence and prayer. I sat in that chapel, along with a small handful of others, gazing at a beautiful ciborium holding the Host, and it was there, unexpectedly, that my tears arrived in a flood, along with a profound awareness of being completely known. It was a great gift. What else can I even say?

At the limit of my words, I will reach for those of a great Basque lover of the Camino, Antxon González Gabarain:

“…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 ‘round the curves that climb Markina, and give me seven days straight without seeing a single waymark. Give me… 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 “Completo” and “Closed,” and as many blisters as you want. Give me hunger and thirst. Don’t forget to give me a cold shower – 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 moment…  “But more than anything, give me a Camino, and give me thirty days.”Читать далее