I can´t even bring myself to go outside. I am in Navarette, less than halfway to Najera, which was today´s destination. I started out from Logrono this morning with too much weight owing to my evil boots in my pack. And shortly after I left the Albergue this morning and made my way through the decidedly ugly suburbs of Logrono the rain started. I took off my pack and fumbled for my poncho in the chilling wet. But the wind was so rude as to keep blowing the thing up over my face before I could get it buttoned over my pack. There I was, a hapless peregrina by a gas station, (cars whipping by, their occupants cozy and dry and listening to Beyonce on the radio) with my arms flailing like a big green octopus trying to get my poncho on. The wind, blowing like a cosmic hair dryer set to frosty, wasted no time in ripping my poncho along the snap line making it impossible to fasten.
It didn´t help when I watched the three precious Scandinavians I met in the Albergue last night hike past with their perfectly buttoned ponchos over their perfectly weighted backpacks and with their perfectly helpful hiking poles while I struggled with my stupid ugly poncho and my stupid hurting feet.
I figure the weather was bound to turn ugly at some point. It truly had been unfathomably beautiful until now. I pressed on in the cold and the wet, the view not improving much so I could not even take the usual delight in that. The trail flanked the main highway through factory territory and past industrial complexes.
But then the sun came out for about half an hour, and I took off my poncho and buckled it to the outside of my pack, shortly after which the rain started again, bringing with it its friends Sleet and Snow. It was a grand ole´ weather party I tell you. And by the time I reached Navarette my feet were screaming again (still owing to my evil boots, but because I was carrying them instead of wearing the heavy ass fuckers). The headwind (of course there was a headwind) had me hunched over trying to cut through its gusts, step by painful step.
I decided I couldn´t go on. Not today. I had too much weight because I refused to leave my $130 rock climbing boots and the $40 silicone inserts behind. My big toes were swollen and the nail beds bruised purple from being forced into the tips of my totally wrong type of evil boots on steep and rocky downhills for the first eight days. There is a huge area on my lower back that is red and angry from where my too heavy pack (thank you evil boots) is chafing.
Yes. I decided I could not go on. Not today. So I started up the road into medieval Navarette and looked for the pilgrim albergue, which is supposed to be open but isn´t, and then I walked to the hotel, which was closed too. And not knowing what to do next I wobbled to the 16th century Church of the Assumption in the square, entered its cavernous nave lit only by a few candles, took off my pack, my shoes, massaged my feet for a minute, walked up to the alter with its 70 foot high gold gilt screen with Christ on the cross, sat in a pew, and cried. Again.
Really, at this moment I have no idea why I am doing this anymore. No idea why, when I first learned about El Camino de Santiago five or so years ago I said, ¨I really want to do that someday.¨ No idea why, when my ex got finished kicking me in the back as I walked out the door, I thought, ¨Now is the time for your camino, Kristin.¨
I wanted this to be so spiritual, so renewing, so invigorating. One of my acquaintances had e-mailed me before I left that her friend had done this and that it had been a life changing experience for her. What if it isn´t for me? What if, at the end of 36 days of walking, all I have is blistered, sore feet, wretched knees, scars from chafing scabs, and a depleted wallet? What if the personal revelations, the life direction I am seeking, the sense of purpose, the peace with my divorce and my ex never come? What if I arrive in Santiago (if I actually make it) and look up at that church and am too tired to care?
Am I expecting too much from this? Am I too desperate for meaning? Is there any way I can be anything other than disappointed with the outcome?
My goal has never been to do this camino quickly, but to do it thoughtfully. But I have a plane ticket that takes me from Santiago to London on April 1st, which means I have a time table here. So when I sat at the altar today and looked up at the figure of Christ on the cross (God knows I´m not religious people, and the last thing I want to do is come across as preachy, but I am in Spain after all, and Spain is muy muy Catholic, so I figure when in Spain, do as the Spaniards do, you know?). So I look up at Christ and through tears I asked, ¨Why am I doing this? I have no idea anymore. It´s not like I have to do this after all.¨ They do make these cars called convertibles, and I could just rent one and go town to town, using my time here to visit museums and churches and restaurants instead of hiking through ugly suburbs and past factories and along highways to yet another roadside 13th century Romanesque chapel that is locked. No indeed. I don´t have to do this. And then I remembered, as I looked at the figure on the cross: ¨you didn´t have to do what you did either.¨
So by some miracle I have found a small pension in Navarette and I´ve had a hot shower and a siesta and I have let my rebelling feet rest a little. Outside my window the snow is blowing sideways. I could not have gone on today, and I wonder where Gunthar, Eddie, Elena and Sonjia are tonight. Will I see them again on the Camino? If I make it?
5 comments:
"You didn´t have to do what you did either"
Selah.
Keke, you are so amazing...don't for one second think that this isn't a wonderful, spiritual, and healing experience for you, as it sounds like you are have already had some life changing moments. Your writing is exquisite, we look forward to reading your blogs every day. I can't wait for you to share your "No Duck" experiences with your nieces. Hang in there girl...Carla will be waiting for you when you get back!
Much Love,
Your sister
Wanderlust can never be fufilled. It is a thirst that needs to be quenched frequently and fervently, so enjoy this trek of mind, body, and spirit. With time and distance come perspective and the wisdom to truly understand the value of a journey. Do not be discouraged by a particular day's shortcomings, or the trials of the trail. Those problems will become inconsequential as you discover the real purpose in your journey, and for years to come you will continue to find meaning and spiritual enlightenment from even the simplest experience on the camino. Do not give up. We believe in you. As we at home read your journal, already we can hear, with both our own "distance" from the Camino experience, and through your eloquent words, tremendous enlightenment in your voice. Keep going. We are with you always. We love you.
First of all....I love you. I was finally able to catch up on all your adventures. I have to thank you. Thank you for sharing this experience. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being a phenomenal individual. Thank you for being the best friend a girl could ask for (it's funny how even with the years and miles of separation, we are still the girls talking for hours on the hammock, staying up all night and singing ABBA on the “stage” (fireplace). I miss you sooooo much. It's funny my friends and I have always said “You meet the people you need to meet, when you need to meet them.” (“Sometimes, she told me, on The Camino you meet the people you need to meet, and sometimes you are the person someone else needs to meet. I think I needed to meet her today. She gave me courage for one more day.”-she is a very wise woman.) I know this to be true. I have been lucky enough to have you throughout my entire life. Even in my darkest moments, I know I always have an amazing support system because of you. No matter how long it's been since we've talked it has been such a comfort to know you are there. I am truly blessed to have you in my life. I am soooo proud of you.
I am completely overwhelmed. Reading this has been a whirlwind of emotions. I am so happy to “hear” you again (I couldn't have said it better myself-by the way, was that Sandy who said that?....How is she doing?). I have missed your writing. You have transported me to far off lands (wait, so other countries do exist?...lol) Who knows, maybe you are in process of creating your masterpiece. I am inspired (you are truly an inspiration). I am so impressed that you have traveled to a foreign country by yourself. I am so elated that you are able to experience this enlightening journey. I am excited for the knowledge you are gaining. I am jealous...I miss traveling desperately (“And even if it was, is it self indulgent to learn? to broaden? to bridge the gap of understanding between people with no nationalities and native languages in common? Somehow, I don´t feel very selfish. I feel tired, and tested, but open.” For me, traveling is inspiring. It's education in it's rawest form). I wish I could be there sharing this adventure with you and your swollen feet, but I know this is a journey you needed to take for yourself. Remember: That which does not kill us only makes us stronger. I am saddened that I was not able to be there with you during those painful years. It breaks my heart to know that they treated you so poorly. You are such an amazing person. I have been luckily enough over the years to witness your strength, courage, compassion, wisdom, your creativity, artistry and your beauty (inside & out).
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