Getting to Santiago
The getting to Santiago was a complete joy. It felt like everything in our journey had genuinely come to a cathartic end.
My knees were starting to feel like they were going to give out from the immense pressure from walking so long — the church from a hill that overlooked the city made for a perfect painkiller.
Walking into the city was like entering a post-apocalypse movie. The streets were nearly empty. However, this was only the outskirts of the large city of Santiago. I had lost my pills and supplement in one of the previous towns we stopped in; my ADHD was exploding. I was asking the girls all kinds of questions to ignore the pain. The closer we got to the church, the more people we began to see. The people I began to see reminded me of the people Madrid. They were rushed like every big city, however ever it was clear that the Camino has affected the town. I felt like our presence was welcomed. The people wave and smile when they see our walking sticks and seashells
I'm amazed by the land of Spain. There are so many old structures, dating back hundreds of years. Walking into Santiago, there are so many churches, statues, monuments that look older than the very nation I was born in.
The people here have absolute confidence in them. A woman I would later meet at the airport told me that they have pride. Pride in their heritage. It's lovely.
Entering into the heart of the city, I notice how people spend their time. They spend it with each other in squares, by fountains, near cafes. They spend their time outside enjoying nature and the summer air. It's a change from how many Americans spend their time. Seeing the cathedral in the square was like reaching the top of a mountain. Many other pilgrims would lay down and enjoy the feeling of rest in the light of their achievement. Relaxed smiles on napping faces. The sound of bagpipes in the background of the monumental square. I comment it would be quite the party to throw in the square. The joke doesn't get the attention I feel it deserves.
I would happily live out the rest of my days in Spain, having my heart broken by the lovely women here.
We decided to attend Mass. I have raised Baptist; this was my first time experiencing a Catholic service. Being under the same roof with all the other pilgrims I had met along the way was cathartic. Even though it was not over, it felt like the perfect end to the journey. I went around shaking hands and speaking to the many pilgrims that I had seen previously.
It was a different experience, but almost surreal. The many sculptures and paintings. It gave the feel of the church as being sublime. Strikingly beautiful. The mass was sad, not in English. Some of us decided to leave. I was never a fan of church sermons, so one that I couldn't understand was almost painful. We decided to do a few other things. We looked into getting our Compostella, took money out of the atm, and had a photo shoot back at the square.
We had a fascinating experience with a man that he had been walking for months on the Camino. While I'm not sure how many kilometers It ranged from 3,000 to 9,000. He had written a series of reflections that he had during his travels. His name was Ben. I told him he should write a book; he said he might. He had over 300 pages worth of notes. I suggested he might as well just put them between the leather. He gave us one of his letters; I told him that I hope to see his name in book stores one day.
After getting our Compostela, We ended the day with a large meal like always.
My knees were starting to feel like they were going to give out from the immense pressure from walking so long — the church from a hill that overlooked the city made for a perfect painkiller.
Walking into the city was like entering a post-apocalypse movie. The streets were nearly empty. However, this was only the outskirts of the large city of Santiago. I had lost my pills and supplement in one of the previous towns we stopped in; my ADHD was exploding. I was asking the girls all kinds of questions to ignore the pain. The closer we got to the church, the more people we began to see. The people I began to see reminded me of the people Madrid. They were rushed like every big city, however ever it was clear that the Camino has affected the town. I felt like our presence was welcomed. The people wave and smile when they see our walking sticks and seashells
I'm amazed by the land of Spain. There are so many old structures, dating back hundreds of years. Walking into Santiago, there are so many churches, statues, monuments that look older than the very nation I was born in.
The people here have absolute confidence in them. A woman I would later meet at the airport told me that they have pride. Pride in their heritage. It's lovely.
Entering into the heart of the city, I notice how people spend their time. They spend it with each other in squares, by fountains, near cafes. They spend their time outside enjoying nature and the summer air. It's a change from how many Americans spend their time. Seeing the cathedral in the square was like reaching the top of a mountain. Many other pilgrims would lay down and enjoy the feeling of rest in the light of their achievement. Relaxed smiles on napping faces. The sound of bagpipes in the background of the monumental square. I comment it would be quite the party to throw in the square. The joke doesn't get the attention I feel it deserves.
I would happily live out the rest of my days in Spain, having my heart broken by the lovely women here.
We decided to attend Mass. I have raised Baptist; this was my first time experiencing a Catholic service. Being under the same roof with all the other pilgrims I had met along the way was cathartic. Even though it was not over, it felt like the perfect end to the journey. I went around shaking hands and speaking to the many pilgrims that I had seen previously.
It was a different experience, but almost surreal. The many sculptures and paintings. It gave the feel of the church as being sublime. Strikingly beautiful. The mass was sad, not in English. Some of us decided to leave. I was never a fan of church sermons, so one that I couldn't understand was almost painful. We decided to do a few other things. We looked into getting our Compostella, took money out of the atm, and had a photo shoot back at the square.
We had a fascinating experience with a man that he had been walking for months on the Camino. While I'm not sure how many kilometers It ranged from 3,000 to 9,000. He had written a series of reflections that he had during his travels. His name was Ben. I told him he should write a book; he said he might. He had over 300 pages worth of notes. I suggested he might as well just put them between the leather. He gave us one of his letters; I told him that I hope to see his name in book stores one day.
After getting our Compostela, We ended the day with a large meal like always.
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