I´ve arrived in Santiago. I have my compostela, a certificate of completion; I have been to mass; hugged the statue of St Jacques; seen the huge incense burner swing across the cathedral; been to the Pilgrim museum; had two free meals so far from the five star hotel which used to be a pilgrim hospital before it became a Parador; and seen a number of people I have walked with.
I should be excited, but I´m not. I feel empty and dejected and desolee. Life beyond the yellow way-marking arrows is not what it is made out to be.
I don´t know where I am going or what I shall do. The main object of the journey was to bring about change and I don´t want to fall back into my comfortable-but-stifling rut.
As if in tune with my mood, the weather has changed. A cold fog has descended on Galicia, maybe nothing new in general, but new for me. I have had mostly glorious weather, if not food, throughout Spain apart from one day of rain.
“Life is beautiful. Don´t worry.” says Vicente. I am reminded of that day of rain. I was freezing and had refused, like a recalcitrant child to put my poncho on properly. Me, my bag and all my things were wet through. Tamara and I entered a cafe and managed to dry ourselves out on the hand-dryer in the toilet. We ordered hot chocolate and that wonderful thick chocolate in which you can stand a spoon was handed over the bar.
We lingered over the treat, took an hour or more. We finished up around three o´clock, ready to walk another six kilometres to the next little town. We left the cafe and the sun was shining. We walked through country lanes in woods alight with late afternoon sun and came to a tiny village with a quiet albergue. Not sure if it was open, the door creaked back and the Dutchman appeared. “Come in. I am the only one here. It´s lovely.”
Later, joined by a couple of others, including a professional pilgrim from Japan, we sat in a warm bar with good Ribeiro wine and some decent food.
Life is indeed beautiful.
Congratulations Bridget. What a journey! x