We are Pilgrims on a Journey

Sooo.... the Camino de Santiago.

Brief rundown:

Santiago, or Saint James, was an apostle of Jesus, one of the fishermen. He spread the Word to the far edge of the know world: Northwest Spain, the region we now call Galicia. He went all the way to the end of the world (a town now called Finisterre or Fisterra in Galician, the language they speak which is a cross between Spanish and Portugese). He then went back to Jerusalem, where he was promptly executed. Two of his disciples did not want his body to be thrown to the lions, so they carried him back to Hispania and buried him there. His body laid there, forgotten for 800 years until a monk followed a vision of a field of stars and uncovered his tomb. Now there is a Cathedral on this spot, in the town of Santiago de Compostela.

Tú sabes bien lo que tengo.

En mi barca no hay oro ni espadas
tan sólo redes y mi trabajo.

Señor, me has mirado en los ojos.
Sonriendo, has dicho mi nombre.
En la arena, he dejado mi barca.
Junto a ti, buscaré otro mar.

Each year, tens of thousands of people recreate the path that the two disciples took. The Camino traditionally starts in St. Jean Pied du Port in French Basque Country (I passed through it on the train) and ends in Santiago. There is also a route up from Sevilla that a German man we met did. There are alternate routes in France, though they are usually just extensions, for example you can start in Lourdes. In order to qualify as a pilgrim and get your compostela certificate, you have to walk 100 km or bike 200 km, so we started in Sarria, 111 km from Santiago.
I had class on Tuesday when the rest of the group was starting (four girls led by Andrew Hoyt from Campus Ministry) so I took an overnight train and started walking Wednesday, walking farther each day to catch up to them. I was able to catch up on Friday at the end of the day of walking. I had been stopping in random, midway points (most people do the walk from Sarria to Santiago in five days, stopping in the same places, so I saw different people each day).
Most days were about the same, I woke up and got ready to start walking at sunrise and was surrounded by an amazingly beautiful fog. Galicia is compared to Ireland a lot because it has a similar landscape and a Celtic heritage. I found a Celtic legend book but i was not featured in it, so I knew it was no good.
Reuniting with the group was nice, it was good to be around people that weren't middle aged German men. By the way, middle-aged German men snore. Really really loud. And when one stops, another one inevitably starts. Not good when Camino sleeping arrangements are large rooms filled with bunk beds, filled with middle-aged German men. Oh well. but yes, the reunion was lovely, and it was nice to walk into Santiago together on Saturday morning. We made in time for the Pilgrim Mass at noon (okay so we were twenty minutes late). As we rounded the corner to the Cathedral, we sang - what else? - the Notre Dame Fight Song. People applauded, but that was likely for the street performers that finished at the same time.

Will you let me be your servant?

Let me be as Christ to you?
Pray that I have have the strength to
Let you be my servant, too.

We are Pilgrims on a journey,
We are travelers on a road,
We are meant to help each other
Walk the mile and share the load.

On Sunday, Andrew rented a car and we went to Finisterre (Fisterra in Galician), or, the end of the world. It is the westernmost part of Spain and, until they discovered Ireland and other places further west, they thought it was the end of the world. One Camino tradition is to carry a small stone with you and then ceremonially release it. We all decided to chuck ours into the ocean. So, The End of the World has a bar and gift shops, but also nice rocks for picnic purposes. And, it's beautiful. It was cloudy and when we looked at the horizon, it was hard to tell where the ocean stopped and where the sky started. It was kind of poetic.

It's the end of the world as we know it...and I feel fine!

We went back, went to Sunday Mass (where they sang the Spanish song listed above, which I had been singing to myself all week, PERFECT!) I then headed to the airport and stay in Madrid with Meg, who spent Monday in Toledo with me and then headed off to Ireland, where I'll meet her tomorrow morning.

This morning, I went for a run in Toledo. Now, there is only one paved road in the casco. I found it, and wiped out when I tried to run across the street and am now going to Ireland with a badly scraped knee. I can survive the Camino without an injury, but not a simple jog. I am clearly Jerry's granddaughter. Oh, mi vida.