After an evening of very little sleep, I caught the metro to Barajas to meet my momma. Found her at the airport no problem (thank goodness...neither of us has a telephone, so that could have been interesting) and we hopped the metro back into the city center.
I checked out of my hostel in Sol and into a beautiful hotel off of Gran Via--quite the upgrade. I think my time of travelling like a poor twenty-something just drew to a close!
Since my jet-lagged mom needed a siesta (but only a short one!), the first afternoon was pretty low-key; it was 100 degrees outside, so it was better to avoid the midday heat anyway. That evening we had dinner in Plaza Mayor at a restaurant that would have made my dear brother Cameron weep with joy: Museo del Jamon (Read: Museum of Pig-Related Products). It was simple, unfussy, and positively delicious.
Walking around and seeing the city at night is almost superior to seeing it during daylight; the temperature is 85 instead of 100, no direct sunlight, and all of thr buildings have an ethereal backlit glow about them. Perhaps that's the way to see other European cities in the summertime, too...?
Day two involved more day-time sightseeing, including the absolutely gorgeous Parque del Retiro, which I could only describe as the central park of Madrid. Around 6:00pm Madrid time/9:00am Pacific Standard Time, I had a couple Skype dates with my pops and Cammy--ah the wonders of technology! I still don't know how they are able to provide that service for free, but I certainly appreciate it.
Since we had an early flight to Paris the next day, my mom and I decided to have an early dinner (which in Madrid, means around 9:00pm), opting for a great little menu del dia that included tapas, drinks, a main course, and dessert for 10€ each. I haven't found Spainish food to be particularly amazing, but it is affordable :)
I'm going to miss Spain; my experiences here have catalyzed a tangible "internal growth spurt" for me. With that, I'll be leaving you Espana...for now :)
Love to all,
KW
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Post camino vacay to beachy A Coruna!
The train ride to A Coruna was quick and painless--40 minutes and 4.90€. I arrived at the station around 4:00pm without a clue as to my orientation in the city, or where I was supposed to be going, but with lots of energy and willpower to find my way.
One of my new favorite things is being deposited in a foreign city and trying to find my destination. This is particularly challenging when I don't have a map, which was the scenerio in A Coruna. But with some trial and error--along with several inquiries for directions--I found my way to the marina after about an hour, where there happened to be a tourism office. I arrived just as the office was opening post-siesta, got myself a map of the city, and navigated my way to the hostel where I was staying. And to think, I almost gave up and hailed a taxi! So glad I battled through it: the camino prepared me for the long-ish jaunt with my pack, and there is a fabulous sense of accomplishment when I am able to figure out a large city on my own...especially when the language is not my native tongue!
I've decided that A Coruna is the people-watching capitol of Spain...or at least Galicia. Not only are there limitless opportunities for me to observe others (which, as many of you know, is a favorite pasttime of mine), I myself am often the object of scrutiny. You ladies know what I'm talking about; we're always sizing up other women, but it's taken to a whole new level in this city: lingering, uncomfortably long stares without any attempt at hiding the blatant gawking. The most intense and shameless observers are older women and young children; the combination of grandmothers and their grandchildren is particularly ruthless. My two favorite strategies to combat this phenomenon are to either 1) walk on by and act completely oblivious to their eyes piercing my skin, or 2) stare back at them intently as I walk past, making them uncomfortable, angry, or both. Such a fun little game.
There was lots to see and do in A Coruna, from ancient sights to beach lounging. A couple of my favorite tourist sights included the Tower of Hercules, a lighthouse built in the 2nd century AD to alert local protection from potential enemies. It is located out on the northwest tip of the peninsula upon which the city of A Coruna encompasses. There is also an impressive promenade that follows the coastline, framing the entire city. Near my hostel, there was also a garden close to the marina that included such wonderful oddities as an entire day-planner set made from flowers: functioning clock and calendar included (the gardeners change the plants every 24 hours to reflect the new date). Nice to see that even in a floundering economy, places of public enjoyment are not sacrificed!
I left early to make the 40 minute walk to the train station, assuming I'd have plenty of time to get there and secure a ticket. I'd forgotten one thing: it is Sunday and lots of Spaniards head to the beach for the weekend--the Renfe trains that usually have several vacancies were COMPLETELY booked. All of them, even the night train. This would have been no big deal, but my mom is arriving in Madrid at Barajas at 7:40am today and I need to be there to meet her.
The closest I'd been to having a breakdown the whole trip, I raced out of the train station and began asking for directions to the bus station on the street. One man sent me the wrong way, but after several more inquiries, I made it and rushed the ticket counter, where no one was to be found (it was nearing siesta time). "Por favor, ayudame! Hay autobuses hoy con destino a Madrid? Tienen billetes?! Alguien esta aqui?! Por favor!!!" After a while a woman in her thirties came strolling up to the counter, annoyed by my haste. It took a bit of time and pleading, but I was able to secure one of the last few bus tickets that evening to Madrid. Yet again, the universe delivers.
So here I am, back in Madrid for the evening before I meet up with my mom tomorrow morning at the airport. I feel like I know this city quite well despite only having been here once before for a few days; I was able to navigate from the bus station to the metro to my hostel at 11:00pm with no trouble at all. Funny how I can feel comfortable navigating Madrid but still manage to get lost in Olympia, Seattle, or Bellingham.
Hope you all enjoyed a delightful weekend; I'm off to catch a couple "z's" before heading to the airport in a few hours!
Hasta luego,
Kels
p.s. - A Coruna also introduced me to the world of topless beaches. Hello, Europe!
One of my new favorite things is being deposited in a foreign city and trying to find my destination. This is particularly challenging when I don't have a map, which was the scenerio in A Coruna. But with some trial and error--along with several inquiries for directions--I found my way to the marina after about an hour, where there happened to be a tourism office. I arrived just as the office was opening post-siesta, got myself a map of the city, and navigated my way to the hostel where I was staying. And to think, I almost gave up and hailed a taxi! So glad I battled through it: the camino prepared me for the long-ish jaunt with my pack, and there is a fabulous sense of accomplishment when I am able to figure out a large city on my own...especially when the language is not my native tongue!
I've decided that A Coruna is the people-watching capitol of Spain...or at least Galicia. Not only are there limitless opportunities for me to observe others (which, as many of you know, is a favorite pasttime of mine), I myself am often the object of scrutiny. You ladies know what I'm talking about; we're always sizing up other women, but it's taken to a whole new level in this city: lingering, uncomfortably long stares without any attempt at hiding the blatant gawking. The most intense and shameless observers are older women and young children; the combination of grandmothers and their grandchildren is particularly ruthless. My two favorite strategies to combat this phenomenon are to either 1) walk on by and act completely oblivious to their eyes piercing my skin, or 2) stare back at them intently as I walk past, making them uncomfortable, angry, or both. Such a fun little game.
There was lots to see and do in A Coruna, from ancient sights to beach lounging. A couple of my favorite tourist sights included the Tower of Hercules, a lighthouse built in the 2nd century AD to alert local protection from potential enemies. It is located out on the northwest tip of the peninsula upon which the city of A Coruna encompasses. There is also an impressive promenade that follows the coastline, framing the entire city. Near my hostel, there was also a garden close to the marina that included such wonderful oddities as an entire day-planner set made from flowers: functioning clock and calendar included (the gardeners change the plants every 24 hours to reflect the new date). Nice to see that even in a floundering economy, places of public enjoyment are not sacrificed!
I left early to make the 40 minute walk to the train station, assuming I'd have plenty of time to get there and secure a ticket. I'd forgotten one thing: it is Sunday and lots of Spaniards head to the beach for the weekend--the Renfe trains that usually have several vacancies were COMPLETELY booked. All of them, even the night train. This would have been no big deal, but my mom is arriving in Madrid at Barajas at 7:40am today and I need to be there to meet her.
The closest I'd been to having a breakdown the whole trip, I raced out of the train station and began asking for directions to the bus station on the street. One man sent me the wrong way, but after several more inquiries, I made it and rushed the ticket counter, where no one was to be found (it was nearing siesta time). "Por favor, ayudame! Hay autobuses hoy con destino a Madrid? Tienen billetes?! Alguien esta aqui?! Por favor!!!" After a while a woman in her thirties came strolling up to the counter, annoyed by my haste. It took a bit of time and pleading, but I was able to secure one of the last few bus tickets that evening to Madrid. Yet again, the universe delivers.
So here I am, back in Madrid for the evening before I meet up with my mom tomorrow morning at the airport. I feel like I know this city quite well despite only having been here once before for a few days; I was able to navigate from the bus station to the metro to my hostel at 11:00pm with no trouble at all. Funny how I can feel comfortable navigating Madrid but still manage to get lost in Olympia, Seattle, or Bellingham.
Hope you all enjoyed a delightful weekend; I'm off to catch a couple "z's" before heading to the airport in a few hours!
Hasta luego,
Kels
p.s. - A Coruna also introduced me to the world of topless beaches. Hello, Europe!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Santiago Part 2: Seeing Ben Harper play next to a cathedral
With the camino behind me, I still had a week to fill with my own selfish wants before meeting my madre in Madrid. And so I returned to Santiago de Compostela to reunite with Laurence and Luisa, the lovely young ladies from Quebec whom I met at the riad in Morocco (and who will henceforth be referred to as "L&L" for the sake of simplicity).
But let me tell you, meeting up with people in a huge city is quite difficult when you've neither telephone nor telephone number at which to be reached. Even the internet (bless its amazing utility) can be a bit fickle in such matters, as it is only effective when I have access to its wonders of wifi connectivity. All that said, I wasn't able to meet up with L&L until the morning of the 14th (Wed), when I surprised them at their hostel by slipping a note under the door like a total creeper. But I'm getting ahead of myself: first, let's cover what went down the night I arrived back in Santiago...
Since I got into town a bit late on Tuesday after a lovely day at the beach in Fisterre, I headed toward the Semenario that serves as a giant pilgrim albergue in town in order to grab a cheap place to stay and get cleaned up. (This is going to sound crazy, but at this point I prefer albergues to hostels and hotels. The latter two feel lonely to me now.) After a quick shower, I headed toward the cathedral to see if L&L had read the message I'd posted about meeting up, but alas, they didn't show because they hadn't received my plea. I was bummed, but decided to grab some dinner and a cerveza while revelling in the joys of people watching for awhile before the midnight curfew for pilgrims staying at the Seminario.
On my way back to the giant albergue, something sort of strange happened: a group of men standing on a bridge above me began yelling at me frantically, "Momo?! Momo?!" I stopped and looked at them quizzically, trying to decipher what they wanted. I asked them if they spoke either Spanish or English so I could help them: first in Spanish, then in English. When I asked in English, a wave of recognition washed over their faces. One of the men shouted, "You speak English?!"
After a brief explanation, I learned these gents were looking for a bar their friend had recommended to them called "Momo"--hence the reason they were yelling that from the bridge. I offered to help them find this elusive watering hole since I still had a bit of time before curfew...plus, the albergue was right around the corner. After I asked a few locals, we found "Momo" and I went to wish the group well and be on my way, but they insisted I join them for a beer. I was intrigued as to why a group of guys from LA was in Santiago, so I obliged them.
Momo turned out to be a wicked cool bar with an amazing garden patio extension, complete with paper lanterns to provide a casual but chic ambiance. From our table, I could see the Semanario looming in the distance, reminding me of my 12:00 curfew. The guys asked me what I was doing in Santiago; they were intrigued to meet an American who had walked the Camino, which spurred questions along the lines of, "Why the hell did you come to Spain to walk a really long way?!" When I returned the "Why are you in Santiago?" question, I was shocked by the response: "Oh, we're here to put on the Ben Harper show tomorrow."
You've got to be kidding me. I had walked passed hundreds of signs advertising the show around the city and had seen the stage next to the cathedral that afternoon. Now I was sitting around drinking beer with Ben Harper's stage crew. They asked what I was up to that night, to which I gave my pitiful reply, "Well...I have to be back at the albergue in 20 minutes..." like I was a teenager trying not to anger my parents. But seriously though, they lock you out if you're late, and I didn't want to sleep on a bench that night. Plus, they kick you out at 9:00am, and all of my stuff was there.
"You seriously have a curfew?!" asked Aaron, the sound engineer. "How about this: if you come out with us you can sleep back at our hotel for a bit before you go pick up your stuff." I weighed this option, asking, "Only if we're perfectly clear that I'm not sleeping with anyone." (I'd like to say now that all parties honored my request.) "Fair enough," he said. "We need someone to guide us around this city though."
And so I skipped curfew and stayed out all night. We went to another bar where I met the rest of the band: Jason (lead guitar), Jesse (bass), and Jordan (drums). Jordan's lady friend (gf?) from France named Elise was there, too. After awhile it began to rain and a few of us opted to relocate to a bar with a roof ...and foosball :)
And so I stayed up all night playing foosball, talking, and drinking sangria with musicians--not a bad way to spend an evening. When they asked if I was going to the show, I said, "Well I'm fairly certain I have to now." To which Aron replied, "There will be free tickets waiting for you at will-call. I already arranged it."
At this point it was after 5:00am, and we were all fading a bit. I was going to head back to the Semanario and hope that the door was open, but was convinced to crash at the 5 star hotel the band was staying at instead. I know that sounds really shady, but I swear, all I did was sleep on the opposite side of a plush king size bed for a couple hours before returning to the albergue to fetch my things. Hey, they were the ones who stopped me in the street and convinced me to stay out late!
After gathering my pack and consulting Google for the address of L&L's hostel, I set out to find them. It was fun to surprise them and let them know I'd scored us all free tickets to the show that night. We enjoyed a lazy day filled with cafes con leche, fresh-squeezed OJ, and trying on clothes from all of the chic European chain stores like Zara, Blanco, etc. After wearing nothing but hiking gear for the last 3+ weeks, I was game to spend 20€ on a pair of jeans and a top to wear to the show that night!
On the way back to the hostel, we picked up some pre-show snacks and some wine called "El Sangre del Toro" (Literally, the blood of the bull. How ridiculous is that?!) Even better: it's really good and costs less than 3€ per bottle. Brilliant.
And so we headed to the Ben Harper and the Relentless7 show, which was being held in a plaza directly next to the cathedral in Santiago. It was an unreal backdrop for a concert...I'll never forget it. Walking up to will-call, flashing my passport, and receiving three free tickets was phenomenal, too...not to mention the fact that there were also aftershow passes in the envelope. Seriously, who has this kind of good fortune?! Seeing that show in Spain made me appreciate everything glorious about the situation 100x more. Simply amazing.
After another late night filled with great music, vino, friends, and fun on verrry little sleep, I crashed hard. In retrospect, it's pretty humorous: my most debaucherous behavior has transpired in the holiest city I've visited...whoops!
After all of that, heading north to the coastal city of A Coruna for some beach time and relaxation is much needed!
Live it up every chance you get--and for goodness sake, always stop to give people directions! ;)
Abrazos,
Kels
But let me tell you, meeting up with people in a huge city is quite difficult when you've neither telephone nor telephone number at which to be reached. Even the internet (bless its amazing utility) can be a bit fickle in such matters, as it is only effective when I have access to its wonders of wifi connectivity. All that said, I wasn't able to meet up with L&L until the morning of the 14th (Wed), when I surprised them at their hostel by slipping a note under the door like a total creeper. But I'm getting ahead of myself: first, let's cover what went down the night I arrived back in Santiago...
Since I got into town a bit late on Tuesday after a lovely day at the beach in Fisterre, I headed toward the Semenario that serves as a giant pilgrim albergue in town in order to grab a cheap place to stay and get cleaned up. (This is going to sound crazy, but at this point I prefer albergues to hostels and hotels. The latter two feel lonely to me now.) After a quick shower, I headed toward the cathedral to see if L&L had read the message I'd posted about meeting up, but alas, they didn't show because they hadn't received my plea. I was bummed, but decided to grab some dinner and a cerveza while revelling in the joys of people watching for awhile before the midnight curfew for pilgrims staying at the Seminario.
On my way back to the giant albergue, something sort of strange happened: a group of men standing on a bridge above me began yelling at me frantically, "Momo?! Momo?!" I stopped and looked at them quizzically, trying to decipher what they wanted. I asked them if they spoke either Spanish or English so I could help them: first in Spanish, then in English. When I asked in English, a wave of recognition washed over their faces. One of the men shouted, "You speak English?!"
After a brief explanation, I learned these gents were looking for a bar their friend had recommended to them called "Momo"--hence the reason they were yelling that from the bridge. I offered to help them find this elusive watering hole since I still had a bit of time before curfew...plus, the albergue was right around the corner. After I asked a few locals, we found "Momo" and I went to wish the group well and be on my way, but they insisted I join them for a beer. I was intrigued as to why a group of guys from LA was in Santiago, so I obliged them.
Momo turned out to be a wicked cool bar with an amazing garden patio extension, complete with paper lanterns to provide a casual but chic ambiance. From our table, I could see the Semanario looming in the distance, reminding me of my 12:00 curfew. The guys asked me what I was doing in Santiago; they were intrigued to meet an American who had walked the Camino, which spurred questions along the lines of, "Why the hell did you come to Spain to walk a really long way?!" When I returned the "Why are you in Santiago?" question, I was shocked by the response: "Oh, we're here to put on the Ben Harper show tomorrow."
You've got to be kidding me. I had walked passed hundreds of signs advertising the show around the city and had seen the stage next to the cathedral that afternoon. Now I was sitting around drinking beer with Ben Harper's stage crew. They asked what I was up to that night, to which I gave my pitiful reply, "Well...I have to be back at the albergue in 20 minutes..." like I was a teenager trying not to anger my parents. But seriously though, they lock you out if you're late, and I didn't want to sleep on a bench that night. Plus, they kick you out at 9:00am, and all of my stuff was there.
"You seriously have a curfew?!" asked Aaron, the sound engineer. "How about this: if you come out with us you can sleep back at our hotel for a bit before you go pick up your stuff." I weighed this option, asking, "Only if we're perfectly clear that I'm not sleeping with anyone." (I'd like to say now that all parties honored my request.) "Fair enough," he said. "We need someone to guide us around this city though."
And so I skipped curfew and stayed out all night. We went to another bar where I met the rest of the band: Jason (lead guitar), Jesse (bass), and Jordan (drums). Jordan's lady friend (gf?) from France named Elise was there, too. After awhile it began to rain and a few of us opted to relocate to a bar with a roof ...and foosball :)
And so I stayed up all night playing foosball, talking, and drinking sangria with musicians--not a bad way to spend an evening. When they asked if I was going to the show, I said, "Well I'm fairly certain I have to now." To which Aron replied, "There will be free tickets waiting for you at will-call. I already arranged it."
At this point it was after 5:00am, and we were all fading a bit. I was going to head back to the Semanario and hope that the door was open, but was convinced to crash at the 5 star hotel the band was staying at instead. I know that sounds really shady, but I swear, all I did was sleep on the opposite side of a plush king size bed for a couple hours before returning to the albergue to fetch my things. Hey, they were the ones who stopped me in the street and convinced me to stay out late!
After gathering my pack and consulting Google for the address of L&L's hostel, I set out to find them. It was fun to surprise them and let them know I'd scored us all free tickets to the show that night. We enjoyed a lazy day filled with cafes con leche, fresh-squeezed OJ, and trying on clothes from all of the chic European chain stores like Zara, Blanco, etc. After wearing nothing but hiking gear for the last 3+ weeks, I was game to spend 20€ on a pair of jeans and a top to wear to the show that night!
On the way back to the hostel, we picked up some pre-show snacks and some wine called "El Sangre del Toro" (Literally, the blood of the bull. How ridiculous is that?!) Even better: it's really good and costs less than 3€ per bottle. Brilliant.
And so we headed to the Ben Harper and the Relentless7 show, which was being held in a plaza directly next to the cathedral in Santiago. It was an unreal backdrop for a concert...I'll never forget it. Walking up to will-call, flashing my passport, and receiving three free tickets was phenomenal, too...not to mention the fact that there were also aftershow passes in the envelope. Seriously, who has this kind of good fortune?! Seeing that show in Spain made me appreciate everything glorious about the situation 100x more. Simply amazing.
After another late night filled with great music, vino, friends, and fun on verrry little sleep, I crashed hard. In retrospect, it's pretty humorous: my most debaucherous behavior has transpired in the holiest city I've visited...whoops!
After all of that, heading north to the coastal city of A Coruna for some beach time and relaxation is much needed!
Live it up every chance you get--and for goodness sake, always stop to give people directions! ;)
Abrazos,
Kels
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Final camino entry: Lessons from the Camino, Part 2
After walking 255 miles, I came up with several methaphors related to the camino. Some of them are quite cheesy, but nonetheless, I find them amusing. (Plus, you should all be well aware of how terrible my jokes and "witty" quips are!)
Advice for--and from--the Camino de Santiago (to be taken literally regarding the Camino and metaphorically when applying to "life"):
* Watch out for the piles of crap in the middle of the path that the ass before you left behind as he or she walked forward. Try to step around them if you can...but if you do have the misfortune of ending up in the middle of it, do your best to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, shake it off your boot, and keep going. Lastly, try your best not to laugh at the misfortune of others when they end up in a "shitty" situation.
* Do your best to be kind to those who join the journey a bit late or approach the trip differently than you (like taking the easier route on the bus, for example...) You will get out what you put in, just like the others. Everyone has their own version of the camino.
* Keep something sturdy by your side to pull you uphill during the rough patches when you are really fatigued. Let people say what they want about your poles--they help!
* The uphill battle is hard work, but the view from the top is usually worth it. Make sure to take time to savor the fruits of your labors: what goes up must come down...and the descent is usually more painful and more dangerous. The sturdy poles by your side come in handy here, too.
* Sometimes the perfection is not in the finale at the end of the road, but rather in the journey itself. Don't expect an ephiphany at the end of the camino--that puts unnecessary pressure on the process to produce a specific outcome. Roll with it and savor each moment; you'll be less likely to end up disappointed. Although, if you're patient, maybe things will end up just the way you'd been hoping they would all along...
Sad that it's over, but so thankful to have had the opportunity to experience it. Perhaps I'll be back to try my hand at another one of the camino routes in the future...
Wishing each of you serenity on your own "camino" :)
Abrazos,
Kelsey
Advice for--and from--the Camino de Santiago (to be taken literally regarding the Camino and metaphorically when applying to "life"):
* Watch out for the piles of crap in the middle of the path that the ass before you left behind as he or she walked forward. Try to step around them if you can...but if you do have the misfortune of ending up in the middle of it, do your best to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, shake it off your boot, and keep going. Lastly, try your best not to laugh at the misfortune of others when they end up in a "shitty" situation.
* Do your best to be kind to those who join the journey a bit late or approach the trip differently than you (like taking the easier route on the bus, for example...) You will get out what you put in, just like the others. Everyone has their own version of the camino.
* Keep something sturdy by your side to pull you uphill during the rough patches when you are really fatigued. Let people say what they want about your poles--they help!
* The uphill battle is hard work, but the view from the top is usually worth it. Make sure to take time to savor the fruits of your labors: what goes up must come down...and the descent is usually more painful and more dangerous. The sturdy poles by your side come in handy here, too.
* Sometimes the perfection is not in the finale at the end of the road, but rather in the journey itself. Don't expect an ephiphany at the end of the camino--that puts unnecessary pressure on the process to produce a specific outcome. Roll with it and savor each moment; you'll be less likely to end up disappointed. Although, if you're patient, maybe things will end up just the way you'd been hoping they would all along...
Sad that it's over, but so thankful to have had the opportunity to experience it. Perhaps I'll be back to try my hand at another one of the camino routes in the future...
Wishing each of you serenity on your own "camino" :)
Abrazos,
Kelsey
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Finisterre: the "end of the world" (and the Camino)
The final journey from Cee to Finisterre on Monday was absolutely perfect. The weather was the exact opposite of what you'd want for hiking and climactic views of the ocean, but I didn't care at all. For the final 10 km I was completely drenched from the warm summer rain, water dripping off of my shorts, my hood, and my nose. In fact, I thought the rain made it much more poignant. To quote my dear friend Eli Mau, "The rain was like a baptism!" When I remembered that line while looking out over the beach as I neared the city of Fisterre, I literally laughed out loud because it was so suiting.
After getting settled in at the albergue, taking a nap, and eating dinner, I decided it was time to complete the final stage of the camino: walking the last 3km out to the lighthouse on Cape Finisterre. Considering the entire city was blanketed in fog, my expectations for some sort of amazing view out at the point were very low as I set out around 8:30pm. On my way up the hill, I passed about 20-30 people who were returning from the lighthouse, all of whom were a combination of angry and forlorn at not being granted the grand climax they were hoping for after walking all this way.
When I arrived at the lighthouse, the scene was no different: zero visibility and a light mist. The only way I could tell the ocean was directly below me was by the sound of the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs. Nonetheless, I set out to "tie a bow" on my camino experience by performing the traditional rituals: burning something from my trip in the rocky cliffside and tossing a stone I'd been carrying with me since I started into the sea. I opted to burn a hankerchief that I'd been using for the duration of my trip, since it had seen more blood, sweat, and tears than anything else I had, and I liked the symbolism. Just as I was finishing up with the burning process, another pilgrim named Joachim whom I'd met a couple days before arrived at the lighthouse and we gave each other a wave.
In a state of disbelief that it was all over, Joachim (who is 29 and an actor from Munich) and I sat on the rocks below the lighthouse for awhile debriefing our camino experiences. It's impossible to walk that long and avoid the opportunity for introspection, and he and I spent quite some time exchanging the lessons we'd learned and the resolutions we hoped to keep upon returning to our "real" lives. I'm not sure how long we sat there talking, but it was long enough for the weather to make a dramatic shift--suddenly the ocean was visible below us. Soon after, the skyline began to open up piece by piece, revealing the picturesque sunset all peregrinos hope for at the end of their journey. I'm not usually much of a believer in fate--instead opting for the more probable explanation of coincidence--but if Joachim hadn't shown up at the lighthouse and we hadn't engaged in interesting conversation, I'm sure I never would have been granted that amazing final camino experience. So thanks, universe!
Since I wasn't quite ready to rush back to the chaos of Santiago, I enjoyed a lazy day at a beautiful beach on the opposite side of the peninsula that Joachim introduced me to. While having breakfast (which is always a croissant and cafe con leche in Spain), I just happened to meet two lads from the PNW who attended Willamette. In true liberal arts undergrad fashion, we proceeded to debate anything and everything possible. Funny how the same conversation that I would have at a coffee shop in Bellingham can transpire around the world in a Spanish cafe.
After an uber- American lunch (hamburger and fries, anyone?), I said goodbye to Joachim and caught the 4:45 bus back to Santiago. It was a beautiful trip along the coast, each of the capes I had passed on my journey visible from the highway as it followed the shoreline...with Cabo Finisterre in the distance, the furthest west.
I'm SO glad I opted to spend three weeks of my trip walking the Camino de Santiago; it was the experience of a lifetime. I would recommend it to anyone and everyone!
More to come,
Kels
After getting settled in at the albergue, taking a nap, and eating dinner, I decided it was time to complete the final stage of the camino: walking the last 3km out to the lighthouse on Cape Finisterre. Considering the entire city was blanketed in fog, my expectations for some sort of amazing view out at the point were very low as I set out around 8:30pm. On my way up the hill, I passed about 20-30 people who were returning from the lighthouse, all of whom were a combination of angry and forlorn at not being granted the grand climax they were hoping for after walking all this way.
When I arrived at the lighthouse, the scene was no different: zero visibility and a light mist. The only way I could tell the ocean was directly below me was by the sound of the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs. Nonetheless, I set out to "tie a bow" on my camino experience by performing the traditional rituals: burning something from my trip in the rocky cliffside and tossing a stone I'd been carrying with me since I started into the sea. I opted to burn a hankerchief that I'd been using for the duration of my trip, since it had seen more blood, sweat, and tears than anything else I had, and I liked the symbolism. Just as I was finishing up with the burning process, another pilgrim named Joachim whom I'd met a couple days before arrived at the lighthouse and we gave each other a wave.
In a state of disbelief that it was all over, Joachim (who is 29 and an actor from Munich) and I sat on the rocks below the lighthouse for awhile debriefing our camino experiences. It's impossible to walk that long and avoid the opportunity for introspection, and he and I spent quite some time exchanging the lessons we'd learned and the resolutions we hoped to keep upon returning to our "real" lives. I'm not sure how long we sat there talking, but it was long enough for the weather to make a dramatic shift--suddenly the ocean was visible below us. Soon after, the skyline began to open up piece by piece, revealing the picturesque sunset all peregrinos hope for at the end of their journey. I'm not usually much of a believer in fate--instead opting for the more probable explanation of coincidence--but if Joachim hadn't shown up at the lighthouse and we hadn't engaged in interesting conversation, I'm sure I never would have been granted that amazing final camino experience. So thanks, universe!
Since I wasn't quite ready to rush back to the chaos of Santiago, I enjoyed a lazy day at a beautiful beach on the opposite side of the peninsula that Joachim introduced me to. While having breakfast (which is always a croissant and cafe con leche in Spain), I just happened to meet two lads from the PNW who attended Willamette. In true liberal arts undergrad fashion, we proceeded to debate anything and everything possible. Funny how the same conversation that I would have at a coffee shop in Bellingham can transpire around the world in a Spanish cafe.
After an uber- American lunch (hamburger and fries, anyone?), I said goodbye to Joachim and caught the 4:45 bus back to Santiago. It was a beautiful trip along the coast, each of the capes I had passed on my journey visible from the highway as it followed the shoreline...with Cabo Finisterre in the distance, the furthest west.
I'm SO glad I opted to spend three weeks of my trip walking the Camino de Santiago; it was the experience of a lifetime. I would recommend it to anyone and everyone!
More to come,
Kels
Monday, July 12, 2010
So behind with so much to say...
My, have I been slacking on the updates!!!
Instead of posting one uber-long blog, I'm going to break my updates into a couple posts and backdate them accordingly. Sorry to be tardy :(
Here's what I have to get you up to speed on:
* Arriving in Fisterre and wrapping up the camino experience
* Final camino post: lessons from the camino, continued
* Santiago part 2: reuniting with travel friends and meeting musicians
* La vida tranquila in A Coruna
Thanks for your patience and for following my journey :) I'll do my best to have the updates posted this weekend.
Happy Friday!
-Kels
Instead of posting one uber-long blog, I'm going to break my updates into a couple posts and backdate them accordingly. Sorry to be tardy :(
Here's what I have to get you up to speed on:
* Arriving in Fisterre and wrapping up the camino experience
* Final camino post: lessons from the camino, continued
* Santiago part 2: reuniting with travel friends and meeting musicians
* La vida tranquila in A Coruna
Thanks for your patience and for following my journey :) I'll do my best to have the updates posted this weekend.
Happy Friday!
-Kels
Final camino days + Spain wins the World Cup!!!
The last few days on the camino to Finisterre have been such a lovely way to wrap up this experience. The scenery has been phenomenal, the people personable, and the accomodations less crowded. I wasn't quite ready to be done with it all yet, so I opted to break the 90km journey into four stages:
Day 1 (Friday): 23 km
Day 2 (Saturday): 35 km
Day 3 (Sunday): 17 km
Day 4 (Monday): 15 km
The last two stages are along the coastline, so I really wanted to savor those days. I'm so glad I did; the towns of Cee, Corcubion, and Fisterre are some of my favorite spots from the whole journey. (But, I'll admit, their proximity to the ocean gives them an unfair advantage.) On the walk to Cee over the high moors, I met two sisters in their 40s from Ireland who were absolutely wonderful. They even gave me their contact information and insisted I come back to Europe sometime soon to come visit them in Ireland. I just may have to take them up on it! Plus, every single Irish man I've met on this trip as been smart, funny, and very attractive. Hmmm...
It was amazing to watch the world cup final here in Spain last night. I wish I could have been amongst the chaos of Madrid or Barcelona, but it was exciting nonetheless. Spaniards are still yelling in the streets and honking their horns this morning at 9:00am. I'm glad they didn't lose--I wonder what the reaction would have been...
Hope you all have a marvelous week!
-Kelsey
Day 1 (Friday): 23 km
Day 2 (Saturday): 35 km
Day 3 (Sunday): 17 km
Day 4 (Monday): 15 km
The last two stages are along the coastline, so I really wanted to savor those days. I'm so glad I did; the towns of Cee, Corcubion, and Fisterre are some of my favorite spots from the whole journey. (But, I'll admit, their proximity to the ocean gives them an unfair advantage.) On the walk to Cee over the high moors, I met two sisters in their 40s from Ireland who were absolutely wonderful. They even gave me their contact information and insisted I come back to Europe sometime soon to come visit them in Ireland. I just may have to take them up on it! Plus, every single Irish man I've met on this trip as been smart, funny, and very attractive. Hmmm...
It was amazing to watch the world cup final here in Spain last night. I wish I could have been amongst the chaos of Madrid or Barcelona, but it was exciting nonetheless. Spaniards are still yelling in the streets and honking their horns this morning at 9:00am. I'm glad they didn't lose--I wonder what the reaction would have been...
Hope you all have a marvelous week!
-Kelsey
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