Day Ten: Santiago

We took a tour of the monastery and finished with dinner, a simple affair of rice and fish.  The most memorable part of the evening was when the octogenarian priest tried to force feed Michelle and me communion wafers even though we both have Celiac disease.  He just didn't understand.

We told our hosts that we wanted to get an early start.  How early?  Six thirty.  Fine, they said, they'd make us breakfast then.

Morning came and the five experienced travelers dressed and packed in the dark.  Six thirty came and six thirty went.  After seven, we were summoned for coffee and toast.  It was very nice of them to make the effort, and we were being polite, but we could have been on the road and stopping at a cafe along the way.  That lack of punctuality is typical of Spain and Portugal.  You get used to it.

Starting out in the morning was bittersweet.  The Camino is a process, and you embrace it.  On the last day, it's obvious that the adventure is coming to an end.  Bart told us that he intended to do the last day at his own speed, alone to absorb it all.

The day was foggy and misty.  The trek would be 28 kilometers and hilly.  Michelle was frustrated with the breakfast delays, and we set out on a really rapid pace.  Perhaps too fast.

10.166 Kilometers to go

Once we got to Spain, we had both yellow arrows and official markers to follow.  It was exciting to see the kilometers go down-but sad at the same time.

In a parking lot, somewhere between Padron and Santiago, we saw these two horses tied up outside a cafe in a parking lot.  You can do the Camino on bike or horse or even using a mule to carry your stuff.  We'd met the two guys riding these horses in a little town named San Miguel.  They told us that the trip from Tui would take two days.  Then came the parts we didn't expect.  "Where do you stay at night?" "We find a field where the horses can graze and we roll out our sleeping bags."

"What do you do when you get to Santiago?"  "We turn around and ride back home..." They were probably on their way back when we saw them in that parking lot.

At kilometer 4.871, appropriately 3 miles from Santiago, I developed a really sharp pain in my left shin.  Get serious, we're not slowing down for a little pain.

We limped into Santiago a little after one PM.  Tina and the kids had landed at the local airport.  We couldn't enter the Cathedral with our back packs, so we went to the pilgrim's office to get our certificates.

We waited in line for more than 45 minutes.  Then we were individually called up to present our passports.

When I received my certificate, I got all choked up with emotion.  It was a combination of gratitude, elation, and sadness.

As we walked around, we saw lots of our friends from the Camino.  You travel with a cohort, and you approximately get into town at the same time as your Camino friends.  It becomes a big party.

I left Michelle in the Praza Obradoiro, in front of the Cathedral, and went to the hotel to meet up with Tina and the kids.  I got a huge reception, as did my old man's beard.

Tina went out into the square to find Michelle, and here's what she found.

All our Camino friends found us, and at night we went out to see a local band that specializes in American blues, the Bakin Blues Band.  Tina shot some great video, if I can get a copy, I'll post it.

The bar was hot and crowded, so we left and found a performance by a Tuna across from the Cathedral.  Tuna does not refer to a fish.  A Tuna is a student minstrel group performing traditional music on traditional instruments.  In this case, the group was comprised of law students from the University of Santiago.

As for that pain in my leg, we're convinced that it's a stress fracture, and this old man is getting a cane as soon as he shaves the beard...

The Camino is a remarkable experience.  It teaches you many things.  Bart says it's a metaphor for life.  He's right.

It teaches you humility-in a big way.  You have limits and you bang into them.  You sleep, exhausted in places one step above homeless shelters.  You cope.

For me, one lesson was to let go.  We'd start out in the morning without an idea of where we were spending the night.  You've just got to have faith that things that things will work out.  And, they always do.

You meet fascinating people on the Camino, many who have done this several times.  They add to your experience, and you hope that you do the same for them.

This has been one of the best things I've ever done.  Thanks for reading along.