I’m leaving Molinaseca with a sense of magic on the Camino de Santiago. I suppose it was always there. But I’m just noticing it now.

Last night I had dinner with a group of pilgrims, a young German woman that I shared a taxi ride with, Helvi from Finland, Dave from Canada, who I began with in St. Jean, and Caroline from Ireland who shared a story that expressed the Camino magic quiet well.

I first met Caroline that night I “got a bed anyway.” She offered me her chair- it had a hole in it. Actually all the springs were missing, but I stood on the sides to lift myself onto the bunk since it had no ladder. A chair is a very handy thing on the Camino; without one there is no place to put your stuff, and quite possibly no way to get onto your bed.

Caroline has an interesting bedtime habit. She likes to read after curfew.

She was often found propped-up and snuggled into her sleeping bag, headlamp mounted to the top of her head, book in hand. She was always courteous to others trying to sleep, avoiding lighting up the room with her headlamp.

A few nights back she had put her books under her pillow, and left the next morning without them. One of them was John Brierley’s guide to the Camino de Santiago; most of us had one. But it had become like an old friend and now it was gone. She was devastated. While walking around town she ran into her bunk mate from that evening. “Caroline! I have your book.” “My book?” Caroline  asked, wondering which one. “Yes,” the lady replied. “I couldn’t carry both of them for you so I brought just one, I had to decide.” Caroline, holding her breath, asked, “Which one did you bring?” “Your guidebook,” she said, hoping it was the answer she wanted to hear. “But I don’t have it on me. I’ll get it to you.” Caroline exhaled with a grateful smile, confidant that she would get her book back.

That evening while dining in one of Molinaseca’s multitude of restaurants, in walks this lady and she has Caroline’s book.

This is the magic of the Camino. And the gratitude in Caroline’s face is the only way to describe this portion of the Camino – magical.

The rhythm of the Camino has changed; it’s become one communal meal with intermittent moments of walking. I don’t worry about getting a bed – I’ll get one. I might do laundry, and I might not. My feet are swollen, but they’re numb anyway so who cares.

Morning brings a shared cup of tea and cookies from our backpacks; brunch means a stop in a pastry shop for hot chocolate and chocolate croissants. Lunch generally means a stop for Spanish tortillas (something like a frittata) or a slice of pizza.

I walked out of Molinaseca with Dave who stayed with me until I stopped in a village for mass.  I met Helvi again in a bar. They had no food, just drinks and a bag of chips – it is Sunday on the Camino and very few places are open for business. We shared a table with Tiffany from Malaysia and her friend from Australia. Entering the next town, Helvi and I shared old bread and a bar of chocolate from our backpacks. A man from Austria sat with us and shared some salami. We left grateful and full of energy to reach the next town.

Villafranca is home to the Church of Santiago; in the archway of its doors is inscribed the words “Puerta del Perdon” – Doors of Forgiveness. The medieval pilgrim, unable to finish due to physical limitation, could receive a pardon by passing through these doors. Later I found out that the pilgrim traveling with Tiffany passed through these doors and felt she had completed all of the Camino she needed to. She boarded a bus and went home.

The last peak to climb before finishing the Camino de Santiago is O’Cebreiro in the region of Galicia. I shipped my backpack to this mountain top village, home to the oldest surviving buildings of Pilgrims Way.

In Galicia the municipal hostels (now called Xuntas) are run by the state. I’m looking for my backpack – the downside of shipping your pack is locating it later.  The “hospilitero” says, “We do not take backpacks.” Or at least that is what I think she said in Spanish. Suddenly motivated to learn the language, I reply, “Donde esta mi mochila?”  Where is my backpack? “Check in the bar,” I’m pretty sure that’s what she said. “Es uno bar?” I asked, trying to find out if there is only one bar in town – which I know cannot be the case. Her reply was something to the effect of “No, you need to ask around.”

I asked at this tienda (shop) and lavandería (laundry). The owner directed me to a hotel where my backpack was safely locked up.

Here in O’Cebreiro is the oldest existing church associated with the Camino, built in the 9th century, is the Church of Santa Maria la Real run by Franciscans. Here in this church I found a prayer which I will ponder for days to come. My only thoughts now are in prayer: Lord are you there? Am I listening? I don’t hear you!

Prayer of La Faba

“Although I may have traveled all the roads, Crossed mountains and valleys from East to West, If I have not discovered the freedom to be myself, I have arrived nowhere.”

“Although I may have shared all my possessions with people of other languages and cultures; made friends with Pilgrims of a thousand paths, or shared albergue with saints and princes, if I am not capable of forgiving my neighbor tomorrow, I have arrived nowhere.”

“Although I may have carried my pack from beginning to end and waited for every Pilgrim in need of encouragement, or given my bed to one who arrived later than I, given my bottle of water in exchange for nothing; if upon my returning to my home and work, I am not able to create brotherhood or to make happiness, peace and unity. I have arrived nowhere.”

“Although I may have had food and water each day, and enjoyed a roof and shower every night; or may have had my injuries well attended, if I have not discovered in all that the love of God, I have arrived nowhere.”

“Although I may have seen all the monuments and contemplated the best sunsets; although I may have learned a greeting in every language or tasted the clean water from every fountain; if I have not discovered who is the author of so much free beauty and so much peace, I have arrived nowhere.”

“If from today I do not continue walking on your path, searching and living according to what I have learned; if from today I do not see in every person, friend or foe a companion on the Camino; if today I cannot recognize God, and the God of Jesus of Nazareth as the one God of my life, I have arrived nowhere.”

 

Arrived in Sarria, It’s Wednesday on the Camino de Santiago and I’m walking with grace, love and mercy.

David and Debbie shared their dinner with me. The owner of the albergue where we stayed invited everyone for shots of Spanish liquor while Pilgrims sang and played the guitar by the fire. I’m grateful. It’s magical.

 

To be concluded next week…