Day 30 on the Camino Way

Who Are These People?

All of a sudden the trail is filled with people, and strangers to boot. Where did all these strangers come from? Before, you knew who all the walkers were. You have been trekking with most of them for days. You may not know their names but you recognize the faces and you know that they are one of you—the grinders, the veterans, the real Camino Way people.

100 Kilometer Pretenders

In order to get a Compostela, all you have to do is walk 100 kilometers. And the Camino Compostela is the prize, it’s the gold ring, the pot of gold. For most Christians it’s like Heaven. You get that biggie because you earned it. I know we talk about grace, but what we really believe is evident in how we view who’s in and who’s not. The death bed confession? I don’t think so—not really.

The Camino Compostela is a very nice certificate that you pay three euros to obtain after you prove through your Camino passport that you have actually walked 100 kilometers or more. The passport is the document that has stamps from bars and hotels and hostels and churches that you have passed through on your journey. They are dated as well.

Last night we stayed in the city of Sarria, which is 111 kilometers from Santiago—that’s more then enough to get your Compostela.

St James the Pilgrim and Me

At almost exactly ten miles into today’s hike, surrounded every step of the way by these newbies, Sally and I stop at a coffee bar. Seated there are about ten or so of our people—grizzled Camino long haulers—the real deal. We walk into the garden area and these folks call out to us and wave us over. Of course they make room for us. We belong.

One of our British brothers, tall beer in hand, nods toward the rest of the crowd, and says, ”You can tell who has just jumped in by the fact that their hands aren’t tan, their shoes aren’t dirty and they are laughing and chatting like this is some kind of damn holiday!” We all grimly agree.

St James may welcome all these travelers as fellow pilgrims, but I have standards! 100 kilometers? How about 784, that’s how far we veterans will have walked.

Seriously?

This big guy just laid there and let everyone passing by take his picture. Why not, right? Life is short and a dog’s life is pretty much about laying around and letting humans do what humans do. And what humans do is pretty doggone silly most of the time.

Honestly, the feelings about the late comers is something I got over very quickly. They were great to have on the trail. It was exciting to hear the noise and the singing and camaraderie. There were large groups, mostly of women, on the walk. And they were having fun and they were funny. Sally and I chuckled and even laughed at some of the comments we heard. And the laughter—so good to hear laughter, isn’t it?

I’m going to get a Camino Compostela and so are about 300,000 other people just this year. And when I get home with it, what am I going to do—hang it on the wall some place? Probably not. So I’m going to do my best to enjoy the rest of the journey.

Because you know what? This walk, this journey, this life we get to live, it’s over all too soon. And this possessive, petty stuff, well, it’s just silly.

Just One Thing More Please

Europeans have the fork in their left hand and knife in the right. They cut with the right and then use the fork in the left to bring the food to their mouths. Folks from the United States also have the fork in their left hand and the knife in the right. We cut with the right, then put the knife down and switch the fork over to our right hand and bring the food to our mouths with the right hand. You with me?

Sally is trying to follow the European way of eating. She’s doing really well. I think that’s unAmerican! I mean, seriously, if you don’t do things the way I do things, the way we do things, then you are doing things the wrong way—or I am. It makes me nervous to think there might be a better way then my way.

Sally says, ”Don’t be an idiot!

Well okay, but still, you know I’m right.

Buen Camino!