The Camino is a Catholic pilgrimmage, though it seems the majority here are doing it for other reasons. It is nonetheless possible to go to mass everyday, and we have met a few pilgrims carrying big, heavy Bibles (isn’t the pocket edition okay?). Regardless of which faith one ascribes to, however, it is hard not to respect the Catholic traditions all around or turn down a pilgrim’s blessing for protection.
Still, there are pagan traditions (i.e., stones on the cross) that exist, and in Galicia, figures of witches are everywhere. When one asks a Galician if he believes in witches, he says, no, of course not, but….
The Camino casts a spell on many, some of whom do not return the same. It also brings out great emotion from others, in some, peace, in others, frenzy.
B and Alex left Arzua early, walking up and down through the woods in the dark. They split up on an incline, and B followed a bright yellow pack with a strong headlamp. It was Judith, a pulminologist from Hungary, and for the next 18km, they walked together. She had also started in St. Jean, doing 40km a day (47km the first day over the Pyrenees) and finishing today, under 22km. She spoke of the Jerusalem Syndrome, which occurs during that pilgrimmage when people’s mental instabilities come to light. They spoke about a few pilgrims on the Camino who have become infamous – the Polish man who asks people for money and gets drunk outside albergues, the Italian man who gets drunk and fights with a Mexican priest (sounds like a bad joke), the schizophrenic Dutchman who is not taking his meds and now the police is looking for him.
Spending that much time alone walking, one cannot use the distractions of television and cars (alcohol, yes), but must rely on one’s mind. The Camino can cast its magic and either bring clarity to confusion or clamor to the chaos.
Sometimes, the Camino casts a long spell. B had met a Swiss man walking the opposite way, the seventh time he had walked from Switzerland to Finisterre and back. He didn’t seem to want to leave the magic of the Camino. Nor did the man who has hid away in his paradise home for the last two years.
The Camino casted a spell over Alex today, causing him to take a wrong turn in the dark forest. Kat and Z left a bit later to drop their packs off with the transportation company, enjoying the same forest, though for them, it was encased in luminous light through the clouds that threatened rain.
B arrived in Arca (Pedrouza) early, finding herself first in line at the albergue again. She met up with the sweet Italian couple, Antonio and Emmanuelle, the 71-year old Frenchwoman with the stamina of one twenty years younger, and the spunky Spaniards. She waited another hour for Alex to arrive, when it started to rain.
It seems that the witches of Galicia decided to open the sky for a while, and 45 min. later, Kat and Z showed up in their ponchos. The witches then turned off the rain and cleared the sky as we discussed what to do next. It seems that in the downpour, Kat and Z were tempted by the magic and suggested walking the 19-20-18 km (no one really knows how far we are any more, the witches have turned all the numbers upside down) rest of the way to Santiago. Alex’s feet were hurting, and he wanted to see Santiago on the horizon at dawn, so we settled on staying at the infamously depressing albergue at Monte de Gorza. It was supposed to be only 8km away, but the 8km somehow changed into 15km…yet Kat and Z agreed to it. Some spell must have been cast!
B and Alex started off ahead, B promising to stay with Alex in case they found a place to stay before Monte de Gorzo and avoid the 400+ person albergue. Kat and Z stayed for some lunch before collecting their packs.
Alex’s feet began to hurt more, so slowly they went before finding Lavacolla, a small hamlet 5km shy of Monte de Gorza. They found a pension for four and decided to stay. Meanwhile, the spell cast on Kat and Z began to wear off a bit as they began to wonder why they had suggested to walk 15km more on an already long day.
But in Lavacolla we all found ourselves, an important stop on the Camino where pilgrims would stop in the river for their first wash of their pilgrimmage – can you imagine the smell? – before reaching Santiago. The river is now more of a…small stream.
Waiting to have a pilgrim menu for dinner, e realized that this was the perfect stop the evening before heading into Santiago. It is hard to believe that we have 10 (or 11 or 9, depending on who you talk to) km left. Whatever spell has been cast over us, it seems we have all made some seemingly crazy decisions that end up just fine on this Camino.
Perhaps the witches of Galicia are trying to teach us to trust that things work out in the end, the way they are supposed to, and that we might as well enjoy, and not fight, the journey. Perhaps this spell will be long with us even after we leave the physical road, and never be broken.
