A Halloween Word of Warning

Last week I went to see "The Way", a film about the Camino, which had everyone talking on our trip, months before it was even released.  Pilgrims wondered whether it would be good for the Camino.  Was this movie a blessing or a - gasp! - curse?  Was an influx of people wanting to follow in the steps of Martin Sheen really what an already crowded trail needed?  Would the true meaning of the pilgrimage diminish?  Would the movie do the journey justice?  Could it capture that spark of magic?  The camaraderie?  What it truly means to leave it all behind?...

Personally, I thought it was a great filmic adventure.  Funny.  Entertaining.  Beautiful and nostalgic.  A lovely piece of storytelling.  But what the film doesn't address (and I don't blame it, as an extended epilogue is movie-suicide) is what becomes of you after the Camino.  So, as a gypsy writer who attempted to be as brutally honest with you readers as possible all along her pilgrimage, I will tell you exactly what the film left out.  A word of warning for any of you thinking of making the trip:

LIFE AS YOU KNOW IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.

You like how I used all-caps to emphasize the above's importance?  If I could I would have carved it in a pumpkin and taken a picture.  But I didn't.  As spooky as it sounds, this warning, however, holds true.  So if you are content with your life, if you have everything you need, if you like exactly how your days play out, then please I warn you do not walk the Camino.  Because when you come home and you look around you and step through your days as before, nothing will look the same.  Nothing will feel the same.  Nothing will be the same.  I know of pilgrims who upon return went into retirement.  Pilgrims who moved to new cities for a fresh start.  Pilgrims who stepped into new careers.  Who got out of relationships that weren't working.  Who planned new adventures.  Some of the crazier ones even decided to marry the handsome Belgian they met on the trail.  (Real whack job, that one.) 

A lot of this is to be celebrated.  But, let's be honest, suddenly realizing the person you were isn't the person you are now can be a frightening conclusion and undertaking.  The path isn't always so clear.  What do I do next?  Where do I go?  How do I get back that feeling of fulfillment and peace?  To keep on the Camino in your real life is not an easy journey.  It's as challenging at home as it was on the trail.  Only now there are no yellow arrows or red Xs to guide you.  Only your intuition and a foolish determination to keep walking.

I often find myself daydreaming.  Wishing myself back to that place.  Back to the cafes sipping my cafe con leche.  Back to typing away on my iPad in a bunk bed.  Back to dangling my feet over a river as mom handed me the bag of olives.  The Camino, my friends and future pilgrims, will haunt you.  My advice?  Let it.  Because it's a friendly ghost.  It's a reminder of the life we'd like to lead.  A reminder of the person the Camino turned us into.  There's a reason my mom has seen "The Way" four times and why I'll watch it again in Belgium snuggled in front of Hannes' laptop.  Because the film takes you back to that place, before you came home and realized the dream was over... and that it was time, and scarily so, to turn it into a reality.

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Happy Halloween my fellow gypsies... Don't let the bed bugs bite. Muahahahahaha!

"Love In The Mud" Part 5 - A Camino Love Story

The grand Parador de Leon.

The days leading up to Leon were anxiety producing.  The more Hannes and I texted, the more I wanted to see him again.  Wooing on the Camino is nothing like at home.  There's no car or Muni to quickly take you to see one another.  No "let's meet for coffee on my lunch break," or "how about a movie tonight?  I hear "Bridesmaids" is hilarious."  (A movie I wanted to see so badly on the trail!)  Hannes felt a million miles away, when in reality, there were only 24 kilometers of distance between us. 

Also, when on the trail, you have TOO MUCH TIME to think and daydream.  You start to second guess yourself or dramatize little moments that would normally seem entirely benign.  Okay, so when he said "I'm so happy to have met you" did he mean "because I could totally fall in love with you" or "because you're a really cool chick" or simply "because you made the endless, unchanging Meseta less tedious with your incessant talking"?  Did that look he gave me at dinner mean "I like you" or "you have a bit of parsley stuck between your two front teeth"?  It's excruciating, truly.  I felt like a teenager again.  If I'd had a notebook (too much weight in the backpack), I would be scribbling little hearts with 'H + T' with one hand propped under my chin and eyelashes batting like hummingbird wings. 

So you can imagine my glee when he texted me that he might be staying an extra day in Leon.  If I arrived early enough, we could spend a whole day together.  Of course, he used the word "might," which sent the teenager in me into angst-y tailspin, but nonetheless, I was hopeful.  Hope turned to happiness when he finally told me (after much teasing) that he was, in fact, staying.  Actually he put it something like "you never know.  I just might be there."  Ugh.  What was this guy trying to do to me?  But I knew, somehow, the Camino wasn't done writing our story yet.

In fact, the Camino decided to lend a hand in getting me to Leon early, giving me the opportunity to injure my foot on the way to the bathroom.  Yes, the bathroom.  My only injury on the trip occurred as I walked barefoot in my hotel room from the bed to the bathroom to grab a Kleenex.  This meant I was going by cab for a few days and would get me to Leon nice and early for our rendezvous.  "What was I going to wear?"... was not a question I had to worry about on our semi-date.  When you only have four items of clothing, the choice is easy.  You pick the one that stinks the least.  Black dress it is!

Nurse Red escorted me that day.  Leon would be the site of our Parador pampering - two days of 5 star luxury like no other.  As we pulled up in the taxi our eyes widened and our mouths dropped.  Could we really be staying here?  At Hogwarts?  The magnificent stone facade and towering double doors that led to the lobby looked as decadent as a chocolate mousse.  It was the start of a fairytale day and a fairytale love story.

After a few hours lounging in our rooms, Hannes called me from the lobby front desk (high security at Hogwarts), and I skipped out to meet him.  I wondered what I would feel seeing my Belgian mud walker again.  As I limped down the plushly carpeted hallway my stomach was in knots.  Then I saw him from a distance, seated in the lobby chatting with Juliano, looking as causally hunky as ever.  "Do not trip... do not trip...," I begged myself as I slowly limped down the stairs, gripping the banister to keep my balance.  He smiled when he saw me, and the knots tightened.  The boys followed me back to the room, admiring the life of luxury we ladies had embraced and simultaneously poking fun of us, the "parador princesses." 

In the room my mom popped open a bottle of Cava, and we toasted to reuniting with old trail friends. My foot was aching, but I fed them all a courageous lie of "It feels fine... almost totally healed," and Red, Hannes, J and I set off to explore Leon.  I'll save the juicy details of our "date" and subsequent first kiss/es for the next entry, but let's just say the night involved a seedy street cleaner with a staring problem, a cockroach, a moonlit park bench, a desperate search for water and two cries into the warm Spanish night breeze of "You're amazing!!!"  Yes, pilgrim love stories are not glamorous.  But they sure are entertaining.  And not for want of originality.

Until next time...