Do Likewise

While getting a pedicure at the airport yesterday (because it is in the 80s here and I needed to fix up my "Camino feet" to get them flip flop ready!), it dawned on me that my technician was doing for me what Jesus did for his disciples.

Arguably the most vivid image of Jesus serving that we have is him kneeling before the disciples with a basin of water and a towel. Including the disciples Judas, who would betray him, and Peter, who would deny him three times. (See John 13.)

But Jesus doesn't just serve his disciples. He tells them -- and, in turn, us -- to go and do likewise.

As my nail technician and I discussed Alzheimer's disease, how vacations have changed since we grew up, studying abroad, and the remnants of my Camino blisters, I wondered if she didn't have a corner on this whole notion of "serving". Was she, as well as podiatrists, shoe salesmen, massage therapists, etc., being more obedient to this call to serve than the rest of us?

There are certainly jobs that require people to directly serve one another -- and not just those involving feet -- but I think no matter what your profession, we are all given opportunities to serve in the workplace. Whether that be at home, in the office, at the salon, or in a classroom.

Some serve clients. Living with a chef, I certainly see Rand serve others through not only delicious food but also the way he cares for all the details to make a person's event everything they dreamed of. Some serve students. Others have the opportunity to serve their co-workers, bosses or the people they lead. Some serve at home, through taking care of household chores, maintenance issues, loving our spouses, getting the kids ready for school or helping them with their homework. Others have the opportunity to serve people they may never actually meet, through words, music, or art.

The point is, we are all called to "do likewise", and when God calls us to do something He always gives us opportunities to do that thing.

"Regular Days"

Randy and I are in Ohio visiting family this week. On Sunday, we started the day at church and ended the day with Family Dinner Night. 

While Tessa was sitting on my lap at church she said, "This reminds me of the regular days." I said, "You mean, the 'good old days'?" And she said, "Yes. I just call it the 'regular' days."

And she is right. It was very reminiscent of the "regular days" before I moved to California. And certainly one of the best parts of the "regular days" was being all together as a family.

In the evening, as Kari was putting the finishing touches on dinner, Kaylee called us all into her room for a magic show. Randy and I, my dad, my aunt, my brother, and a couple of the kids all piled onto Kaylee's bed, prepared to be amazed. She made things appear out of "nowhere", and out from under her hat, and then put on a puppet show. It was fun to watch her use her imagination, even if it isn't her destiny to be a famous magician. 

After dinner the kids usually run off to play while the adults clean up and get a chance for "grown-up" conversation. I was looking forward to this part of the evening. After all, it isn't just the kids who I miss and who miss me. It's also my brother and sister-in-law, my parents, Kari's parents, and my aunt who is soon to be relocating to the area. 

But just as the conversations were beginning, Kaylee appeared and asked me to come to her room. Admittedly I was not excited about another puppet/magic show. So I told her I was going to talk with the adults for awhile. She gave me a disappointed look, then went to find someone else to go to her room with her. But she kept coming back to me, and I kept putting her off. Finally, after seeing that the others she had dragged into her room had emerged again fairly quickly and seemingly unscathed, I relented. 

She invited me to sit on her bed and then went to the bookshelf. Where she sorted through a pile of books until she found the one she was looking for... the daily devotional Bible I had given her for Christmas. 

All along she had wanted me to come to her room so I could read her a Bible story. 

"I can find the shortest one," she said.

"That's okay," I said. "We can read as many stories as you want."

My initial reaction was to feel guilty that I hadn't been more receptive to Kaylee from the beginning. But I couldn't have anticipated that she wanted to read about Jesus rather than pull a rabbit out of her hat. Besides, it is perfectly acceptable to spend time with the adults and let the kids play on their own. So how do we let go of the guilt of saying "no"?

I think the thing I did "right" here is that, once I was with Kaylee, I gave her all of my attention. I let her know that she was important and so were the stories she wanted to read.

Madrid

Reflecting back on our last few days in Spain, I've wondered why I wasn't able to write a final post about our journey. 

Yes, we had a myriad of emotions swirling around us. From exhaustion after our long, final days walk, to exhilaration that we had completed our long awaited Camino, to sadness over leaving this beautiful country, to relief that we didn't have to walk anymore. 

Yes, we had head colds due to the drastic change in weather, from cold, rainy days to overwhelming sun. And body aches due to all the walking and carrying of our packs. 

But more than that, I think it was the overwhelming busy-ness of Madrid that prevented me from being able to go anywhere worthwhile with my thoughts.

Madrid has more street performers than a theme park...

The Plaza Mayor was host to the traditional Easter Sunday drum band...

People watching at its finest...

Shopping is their drug...

The food is all the size of finger sandwiches...

And you get charged based on how many toothpicks are left on your plate.

Don't get me wrong. There were places of beauty. Like the park across the street from our hotel...

And the many museums...

But mostly we felt like Sisyphus, always ending up in the same place, with the same crowds, and never actually getting anywhere.

After weeks of nothing but small town hospitality, wide open spaces and solitude, Madrid simply made us long for the Camino. So much so that Rand even conceded after a few days that maybe, maybe someday we will go back and walk the final stretch (approx. 90 km) from Santiago to Finisterre.

And I am reminded, now that we have returned home, that it is more important than ever to make space and time in the midst of our crowded, busy lives to breathe, to think, to pray, to write, to smile, to love, to serve.

Thank you once again for walking with us! Good journey... Buen Camino!

Spain by Train

After our day in Santiago, we asked ourselves: “What’s next?”

Many pilgrims stay and spend several days in Santiago. Others travel to Finisterre, “the ends of the earth”, on foot or by bus or taxi to burn their boots and watch the sun go down over the ocean. But we had nowhere to stay in Santiago and had both already had our Finisterre experiences.

Our flight home is Tuesday out of Madrid, and neither of us has spent any time in this city, so we thought, why not go a few days early and see what the city has to offer?

“The only train available to Madrid on Saturday leaves at 8 a.m. and arrives in Madrid at 3 p.m.,” the woman at the ticket sales said. “All the other trains are full.”

We asked her for a few minutes to think about it. An 8 a.m. train meant getting up early and we hadn’t yet caught up from our all night walk. We could go to Finisterre after all, or look for beds in an Albergue early in the day on Saturday and stay another night in Santiago. But in the end we decided we would rather go to Madrid and enjoy the city.

“Two tickets for the 8 a.m. train to Madrid,” we told her.

She started typing in the information. “I’m sorry. That train is full,” she said. In just a few short minutes we had lost our way out of this town. I had taken the overnight bus last year and had vowed to never do that again. 

“What about Sunday?” I asked.

“It’s Semana Santa,” she said, typing and shaking her head ‘no’. There would be no going anywhere on Easter Sunday. She kept typing as we sat there, wondering what we were going to do.

Our friends that we had met in the woods had said they were going to walk to the airport after arriving in Santiago, but we didn’t have that kind of time.

“There is a train tomorrow at 10 a.m.,” she said. “But it goes through Leon and doesn’t arrive in Madrid until 9 p.m.”

“We’ll take it!” Rand said, before this train too was sold out.

As hard and long and exhausting as our walk into Santiago was, it seems like it all worked out for the best. We got the last hotel room in Santiago on Good Friday. And if we had waited to arrive on Saturday we might not have had a place to stay in Santiago or a way out of town to Madrid.  

After the best night sleep of the whole Camino, we walked a mile to the station and boarded our Saturday morning train. The first stretch would take us on a tour of our last two weeks of walking in reverse, from Santiago to Leon. The train didn’t follow the Camino exactly, but we were thrilled when we saw the occasional bridge, path, bar, and Albergue where we had stayed.

Shortly after boarding we received a text message from our friends from the woods, who said it had been a very cold night and thanked us for the hand warmers we had left them. While we had spent our time wondering if we would have been better off staying with them in the woods and walking to Santiago in the morning, they had been there thinking that they would have been better off walking with us. There's a lesson in that, I'm sure of it!

After changing trains in Leon, we followed new territory. The first couple of hours looked like Ohio with its flat farmland and abundance of animals. The latter stretch was through the mountains and forests and was equally as beautiful.

When we finally arrived in Madrid, we took a taxi from the train station to a hostel that had gotten wonderful reviews. Only to find it chained up tight. Our taxi driver looked apologetic, but it wasn’t his fault that it was closed. We assured him we would be alright and set off to walking amongst the streets packed with people, cars, bars, and more. After several unsuccessful attempts we finally landed at Hostal Sardinero. As the man checked us in he said, “Excuse me for a moment. I have to turn off our sign. You have the last room of the night.”

Once again we had found the one available room in town during “Semana Santa.” All seems to have worked out exactly right!

A Day in Santiago

At 8 a.m. the streets of Santiago started to come to life. We were still resting in our storefront when the pilgrim’s office opened. We packed up our belongings and went to receive our certificates of completion.

“How are you?” one of the women working asked. Weary tears streamed down my face. “Cansada, I think,” she answered her own question. “Tired.”

We were given the clipboards to sign in and were the first to register for the day. Dozens of other names would be signed below ours as pilgrims one by one made their way to Santiago. “Congratulations,” we were told, as official credentials were placed in our hands, with our names written in Latin and the date of our arrival.

I had been here before, 11 months and 1 day ago, to receive my first credential. But this time Rand and I had arrived together. 

And then the massive blow, “There will be no Pilgrim’s Mass today. It is ‘Semana Santa’, Holy Week, so there is no service. But you are welcome to tour the Cathedral.” No Pilgrim’s Mass. No hearing our names being read along with the other names in various languages. No ceremony to neatly tie up our Camino. “Processions?” I asked. Remembering all the “parades” that took place last year in Villfranca del Bierzo. “No,” they said. “Semana Santa.” It was Holy Week, and the Church appeared to be closed.

We went back across the street to a hotel café where we had coffee and toast. Earlier I had asked the young man setting up the outdoor tables if they had any rooms available. He said there might be one, with a single bed, available now. We checked with the hostess and she said it was meant for one person, but that she would show it to us and we could decide. It was only available for one night, though. The rest of the weekend was booked full.

The elevator was not big enough for two people with backpacks, so we left our packs at the desk and rode the elevator while she took the stairs. The room was on the 3^rd floor, with a window that opened to a beautiful view of the rooftops of Santiago, had a full size bed and a private bathroom with a bathtub (rare in Spain!). It was perfect.

“We’ll take it!” we said. It was 9 a.m. and we were ready for bed. She handed us our key, and a booklet filled with all of the Holy Week events. “There is a procession?” I asked. “Maybe four or five of them today,” she said. Redeemed!

At noon I went out to the Cathedral Plaza, which as expected was packed with people and vendors, tourists and pilgrims. I found a quiet cafeteria and had a bowl of “Calda”, Galician broth soup, and bought some cheese and bread to take back to the room. I stopped and bought a few souvenirs, checked the times for the post office and train station ticket office, and went back to the room to join Rand for another nap.

We got up again around 5 p.m. and went out for pizza and gelato. We walked through several of the plazas where people were giving out free hugs, having street fairs, going to church, walking their dogs, and getting ready for another round of Holy Week processions.

We bumped into the large group of pilgrims that we had left at the restaurant where we had dinner the previous evening and exchanged handshakes and cheers. We told them it was nearly 6 a.m. before we saw the Cathedral, but that the night walk had been beautiful. They looked weary, and were still carrying their backpacks as they had not yet found a place to stay for the night. It was another reason to be glad that we had arrived in Santiago so early. We may have gotten the last room in the entire city that was free on Good Friday.

We then went to the post office where weeks ago we had shipped our new coaster set that we'd "won" in Burgos while visiting a fundraiser, and the luggage bags we had used to bring our backpacks on the plane. The “vigilante”, as his name tag described him, and the office worker, told us that the post office was closed until Monday. “It’s Semana Santa,” they said. We were well aware that it was Holy Week. But these two guys were there and our package couldn’t have been that hard to find. Rand and I had a quick conversation about whether we were willing to stay in Santiago until Monday. It would cut it close, but we could still make it to Madrid for our Tuesday morning flight back to the states. “Wait,” the office worker said. The vigilante gave him a dirty look, but he shrugged his shoulders, disappeared for a few minutes, and then came back with our package.

While he was searching, an older couple from New Mexico who we had met on the Camino came in. They told us that they had made reservations at a hotel for the night, but when they hadn’t arrived before 3 p.m. to check in, the hotel had given away their room. “Semana Santa,” was the explanation they were given. Holy Week. “It was a longer walk to get here than we thought,” they said of the last 12.5 kilometers (21.5?!). We agreed.

The postal worker frowned when he came back with our package and saw our friends waiting with us. We thanked him profusely for helping us. “Secret,” the vigilante said to us before we left, and we promised not to tell any more of our friends that the post office was only “sort of closed” for Holy Week.

We ended the evening at the Cathedral where we gave thanks and saw thousands of others doing the same. Pilgrims and tourists hugged the statue of the apostle, visited his tomb, and stood in awe of the swinging incense diffuser.

And we bumped into “our family”! Who we hadn’t seen in over 40 kilometers. “You made it!” we all said. And somehow seeing them here in Santiago on Good Friday seemed like the perfect way to wrap up our Camino.

      

Why Walk So Far in One Night?

Continued...

Day 14/15 of walking: Boente to Santiago, 47.5 km (or was it 56.5?!)
Total for Camino 2015: 321.2 km (330.2 km?!)

During our stop at the 12.5 km mark, Rand duct taped a flashlight to his walking stick. I nicknamed him “Macgyver” during our first Camino, because he was always coming up with these kinds of innovations. Despite the full moon, we were glad for the extra light. The path was often through trees, small towns, on rough terrain or with potholes. And after meeting our friends in the woods, we were prepared for the unexpected.

It was a cold night, so we didn’t sit long. An hour break in a café would have been perfect, but that wasn’t available to us in the midnight hour. As we passed through several small towns, we wondered about stopping in a hotel and asking if we could take a rest for an hour. If there was a couch in the lobby perhaps. Or simply somewhere to get in out of the cold and off our feet.

I had heard that the Albergue just 4.6 km from Santiago was open 24 hours. But as we passed by, there didn’t seem to be any way to get to it. Not at all like we both remembered from being here last year.

Before 3 a.m. we had descended the last big hill, the last flight of stairs, and crossed the last bridge into Santiago. But having been here before, we knew we were still a long way away from the Cathedral. So we stopped at a park, pulled out a sleeping bag, and laid down until 4:30. Too exhausted to care about the people sitting in their car right next to us, who also appeared to be taking an early morning nap.

The rest did our feet well, but we were still exhausted, sore, and ready for a place to land. We had to force ourselves to take photos at the “Santiago de Compostela” sign, before walking for another hour across town to get to the Cathedral. Making a short stop at an indoor ATM to warm up.

The Fitbit I’ve been wearing this trip told us that our 47.5 kilometer day had actually been 56.5 kilometers. Where did those extra 9 kilometers come from? Perhaps the guidebook was only giving us the measures to the edge of town, and not all the way. Who knows. Regardless, it was a long, uncomfortable walk.

In those moments as we entered the Cathedral Plaza, where a handful of pilgrims were celebrating and taking photos of themselves in front of the dark, construction clad Cathedral, I wished that I had insisted we take these last 47.5 (56.5?) kilometers “poco a poco”. That if we had walked over 3 days instead of one, perhaps then we would have a positive emotional reaction to this final entry into Santiago and the taking of our last Camino steps together. Instead we were too tired to even care.

We found a covered entryway to one of the many shops nearby, across the street from the Pilgrim’s Office where we would get our official credentials in a couple of hours, and once again pulled out the sleeping bag. It wasn’t as comfortable as a hotel room or even an Albergue bed, but at least we didn’t have to walk anymore.

Despite my exhaustion, I quickly found myself restless. So I walked back to the Cathedral Plaza and sat down in the middle of the now abandoned square. I hated the idea that we might have “ruined” our Camino by walking so far on our last stretch. So I prayed and asked the Father what good there was in this. More would be revealed in the coming days, but the initial sense was, “How else would you have the entire Cathedral to yourself?”

In just a few short hours, tourists and pilgrims and bicycles and street vendors would pack the square. But in this moment, the early morning hours of Good Friday when Jesus and his followers suffered the longest, hardest day of his earthly life, it was mine alone. And for that I was grateful.

The Beginning of a Very Long Walk

Day 14 of walking: Boente to Santiago, 47.5 km

Total for Camino 2015: 321.2 km (200 miles)

There is something about breaking the 50 kilometer mark that makes me want to just keep walking to Santiago.

Rand and I had been talking for several days about what these last 50 kilometers would look like. And we planned to spread them out over 3 days. "Poca a poco." Little by little. To enjoy the last steps of our Camino. And arrive early on Saturday morning in order to get our names read at noon mass and find a place to stay given the Holy Week ("Semana Santa") crowds.

A recent newspaper reported a 61 percent increase in pilgrims arriving in Santiago this March as opposed to last March, so we knew we would never find a place to stay if we arrived late in the day.

But then we unexpectedly ended up staying at the same albergue I did last year right before I walked the last 47.5 kilometers to Santiago. And the hospitalero/bartender recognized me right away.

Something about this encounter triggered in Rand that we, too, could walk all the way to Santiago, if we wanted to.

We immediately decided that regardless of how far we walked we would still have our long breaks throughout the day. We took one at lunch time, for nearly 2 hours, mostly to get a respite from the heat. Our cold, wet Camino has turned hot in the last couple of days, today reaching into the 70s. When walking with a backpack over hilly terrain, the lower 50s are ideal for us. So you can imagine how uncomfortable we were at 20 degrees warmer than that. We took another hour long break at dinner time. Not quite sure what we were going to do at this point.

A large group of pilgrims we had seen during our first break were there settling in to their albergue and having dinner. We asked if anyone wanted to walk to Santiago with us, and they all pointed to one of the guys who had apparently been telling them they should all walk by moonlight. He told us he thought it would be "the best way". But they were all showered and wearing flip flops at this point, so they told us to have a "Buen Camino".

After this second rest our feet felt refreshed and we were energized at the idea of going all the way to Santiago. We had 25 kilometers under our belt already for the day and a mere 20 or so to go. We thought for sure we could handle it. I knew it was a long, hard walk. Even longer than the 20 kilometers it claimed. But also that it was possible.

We set out in the dark into the forest, and were talking about how scary this would be to walk alone, when a voice with a British accent spoke out of the darkness, "Buen Camino."

I was too scared to scream. But soon made out the two figures sitting on the side of the trail that we had nearly walked right past. "You scared the crap out of me!" I said. Rand had a few other words to say. And the boy handed us a bottle of wine, which we each gladly took a big swig from.

We spent the next 30 minutes or so getting to know these two, whose faces we never did see. Danny is from England but currently lives in New Jersey. Natalie is from Australia but currently lives in England (or vice versa, we can't remember). They dated 6 or 7 years ago, but it didn't work out. When Danny put on Facebook that he was going on Camino, however, she sent him a message saying she'd always wanted to go. He told her when he was going and said she was welcome to walk beside him if she wanted. He was going either way.

The got to St. Jean Pied de Port and started walking on March 23. The snow was too deep and dangerous to go over the Pyrenees, but they told us about some friends they met who had done it anyway and survived the night by staying in a shepherd's barn. We had seen that barn last year just meters before we pitched our tent! Danny and Natalie took the easier route to Roncesvalles and arrived so quickly that they kept right on walking, all the way to Pamplona, a good 70 kilometers. It took us a week to walk that far! This pace continued and they were about to complete their entire Camino in just 11 days. Not without hardship, however, At one point Natalie's feet were so messed up that Danny was ready to rent a car and drive her to Santiago. But she got rid of her hiking boots and traded them for a pair of sandals and they continued on their way.

"Now we don't know what to do," Danny said. "Because we've kind of liked spending this time together." We told them our story, and that if you can be together 24/7 with someone for that long and still enjoy one another's company it might be worth exploring. Natalie laughed and said, "Maybe we will be the two of you in a few years!"

The reason they were sitting on the side of the path was that they had just pitched the emergency tent that Danny had been carrying the entire trip and decided to sleep in the woods rather than finish the last 17 kilometers to Santiago that night. They'd been up since 5 a.m. walking and had decided they'd had enough. Who knows how many kilometers they had already put in! They had two more bottles of wine to keep them warm, and gave us the third. We gave them our phone number and told them to give us a call once they landed in Santiago and maybe we could all meet in the daylight!

It was one of the highlights of this long night of walking. The moon, too, was beautiful, guiding us on our way. But at midnight when we stopped to rest, we still had 12.5 kilometers to go!

(To be continued!)    

   

Home

Day 13 of walking: Palas de Rei to Boente, 20.5 km

Rand and I both had unexpected opportunities and challenges come up with our jobs today. Initially we weren’t excited that these came up during our Camino. We were hoping to spend our 3 weeks without thinking too much about home and work (other than the 5 deadlines I have while we are here!). But after walking a bit, and having nothing to distract us from exploring how we thought and felt about these issues, it became the perfect space to talk these through.

It makes me think that this would serve us well, once we return home, to make space for conversation. Real space. Without all the distractions of the world. To talk through our thoughts and feelings when challenges and opportunities arise.

“Home” was also very present in the people we met today. 

An obviously pregnant woman walked by us mid-morning and Rand said, “Rock star.” 

“It’s not that hard,” she replied in English. 

“With an attitude like that, you must be American,” Rand said. 

“California, San Francisco,” she said with a laugh. We told her we were practically neighbors. She currently lives in Madrid and has walked the first 10 stages of the Camino (there are 33), but realized that she needed to jump ahead a bit if she was going to reach Santiago before the little one was born. “Maybe someday he’ll walk the Camino,” she said, “and he’ll be able to say he already walked it once with his mom.”

Later, at our Albergue for the evening, we met a couple from Napa who live outside Yosemite National Park, where he works as a biologist. They walk because she "just really loves Spain."

And as much as we are enjoying the gorgeous scenery here, it’s making us even more appreciative that we have so many of the same views at home. On our hikes, walks, drives, and even at the park across the street. From vineyards to mountains to rivers to varieties of trees and flowers and fruits and vegetables. And always plenty of people out enjoying the beauty. 

“I’m not going to be as sad to go home this time,” I told Rand. I think the shorter amount of time we have spent here is a real factor. And the lack of deep connections with others. But namely I am less sad because this time we get to go home together.   

Families on Camino

Day 12 of walking: Portomarin to Palas de Rei, 24.8 km

Today was a fairly ordinary day. You would think that they would all be filled with excitement and new adventures and stories to tell. But the truth is, just like "real life", much of our days are repetitive -- walk, eat, walk eat, walk, eat, sleep, repeat -- forcing us to find for ourselves the extraordinary in the ordinary.

There were many families on the Way today. It was fun to see young children and teenagers, parents and grandparents, in various couplings, on foot and on bicycle.

We wanted to help a young girl on a bike go up a steep hill, but she didn't appear to speak English and I think we made her more nervous than we would have been helpful.

We laughed when teenagers passed by, trying to be "cool" with their backpacks slung over one shoulder or trying to walk with pants low on their hips.

We're still getting used to all the perfume and small backpacks and white tennis shoes.

We met one family though who we really connected with. "Our family", as we've nicknamed them, is a group of 3 generations. At first we followed them, laughing at the kids who held out "selfie sticks" to take group photos. But during one of their photo shoots we passed them and they noticed Rand's tattoo. After which Grandpa, with his "old fashioned" DSLR camera with an extensive zoom lens, asked Rand if it was okay if he took a picture. Then showing us his own tattoo, a cross which we think represents one of the other pilgrimage routes. They speak very rapid Spanish, but we were able to communicate that this is our second Camino and that we got the tattoos last year after walking from St. Jean to Leon together.

They walk faster than us, with their new hiking boots, matching outfits, small backpacks, and blister-free feet. But we bumped into them several times along the Way and they seemed just as excited to see us as we were to see them. Definitely a bright spot in our ordinary day.

I can already imagine us celebrating together in Santiago!