Camino Training Revisited

Training for the Camino was a huge commitment. I had to explain to my agent why I needed to set aside five hours for a workout. I had to wake up before the sun rose, so the Sacramento heat wouldn't fry my mom and I like Tortilla Espanola. I had to walk the same trails ad nauseum to log the amount of miles we needed. And I had to explain to my feet and quads and ankles and back why I was torturing them when the Camino was still a year away. While some don't feel training is necessary (I have one super hero friend who decided to scale Mt. Whitney a week beforehand, while I'd been training for six months), it was an essential part of my Camino journey.

When I write a blog or a commercial treatment or an article, I always write a rough draft and then two editorial drafts before sending it out. Camino training is a similar concept - a time to work out the kinks, to tweak things, to reevaluate, to surrender. It's a period to get acquainted with your body and let it know what it's in for. It's the time when you assess your shortcomings and how to overcome them. A time when aches and pains morph into an impressive set of muscles. And when you come to realize that walking is more than exercise - it's a way of life.

I was brought back to this Camino prologue when walking the 10.5 mile loop around Lake Natoma with my husband (and former pilgrim) yesterday. While urban hikes were my favorite training grounds, Lake Natoma was where my mom and I first wore our backpacks for a proper trial run. Where we spent the night in a hotel to test out our gear, sleep accoutrements and sink washing abilities. And where I finally admitted to myself that I was really about to do this crazy 1000 mile journey.

Now let me be frank, NOTHING will prepare you fully for the ultimate Bildungroman that is the Camino. But with a little training, a little trail and error, a little throwing down of the gauntlet, the abstract notion of walking so many miles for so many days begins to take proper shape. It may scare you, it may intimidate you, it may leave you with ample blisters, but at least you realize you can do it.

And it's that attitude that means everything when for the 49th day in a row you must wake up at 5am, slip on your dusty, sheep shit crusted boots, drink a cup of coffee out of a vending machine, chew down a stale baguette (that wasn't very good to begin with) and march out into a cold Spanish cobblestone street with hiking poles in callous-laden hand.

Above, a video my husband made of a tree swing waiting for its summertime occupants on Lake Natoma. For more moments of peace check out his Zen Capture blog!

The Ultimate Camino Packing List

Recently, mom and I have been hearing about more and more people who want to make the Camino plunge.  Some of whom our humble excursion even inspired!  Mom, being ever-organized, went so far as to put together a little living room seminar for future pilgrim inductees.  But for those who couldn't make it, I thought I would offer up the Ultimate Camino Packing List.  

All packed and headed to Arles by train.

Now, this one has a few women's things you fellas won't have to worry about.  And there are also some items that won't apply to certain people or that you might find superficial and useless (I will defend my miniature Chanel mascara to the bitter end!)  But never the one to shy away from full disclosure and honesty, I'm putting it all out there, iPad 2 and all.  So please take this list as more of a guided suggestion based on three months and nearly 1000 miles of experience as we tossed, bought, ditched, exchanged, re-bought, donated and renegotiated our way through France and Spain.

Also, if you'd like to read about our packing misadventures and clever finds, read "The Baby With The Bathwater" entry as we began the desperate plight to lighten our load in the days leading up to the big transatlantic flight.

Backpack Essentials:

•  Backpack
• Rain cover for backpack
• Small purse or day pack
• Hiking poles with duct tape wrapped around handles – you never know when you’ll need tape for repairs
• Stuff sacs for tight packing
• Quart and pint-sized Ziploc bags
• CamelBak bladder

Electronics:

• Camera
• Phone
• E-book with chargers – English books are rare finds (and usually bawdy romance novels only) and trust me you’ll go through your first book fast
• Adapter plug – you no longer need voltage converters for modern electronics
• iPad 2 – I bought this (lightest thing I could find) to write and post pics for you lovely folks, watch movies on occasion and listen to music (keep in mind we were on the road for three months), but I was the rare one.  It also served as my E-reader.

Clothes (easy to wash by hand and quick drying):

• Rain jacket and pants
• 1 pair nylon hiking pants and shorts
• 2 pair hiking socks, 2 pair liners, 2 pair undies, 2 bras
• 1 skirt/pants and extra shirt/blouse for town or, as I did, a dress 
• 2 short sleeve hiking tops
• 1 fleece-type jacket
• 1 long sleeve top
• Sun hat
• Gortex mid-level boots (recommend Lowa), shower shoes & sandals
• Small belt – for when you inevitably lose weight
• Lightweight scarf – I bought a souvenir one and it turned the most worn, ugly Camino outfits of mine into something verging on fashion, whether worn in my hair or around my neck

Hygiene (miniature sizes):

• Hanging toiletries bag so it’s easy to take into the shower (recommend Rick Steve’s)
• Bath gel
• Shampoo/conditioner
• Toothpaste/toothbrush
• Comb
• Deodorant
• Lotion/moisturizer for face & body – I went without for awhile & really regretted it, as the sun and dry air sucks your skin dry
• Insect repellent - I had scars from my first mosquito attack outside Arles for three months.  Buy over there where the stuff is so strong you might grow a third eye.
• Quick-dry towel
• Razor - bath gel makes good shave cream)
• Sunscreen
• Nail file
• Jewelry – trust me, a simple pair of studs and a small necklace will keep you from feeling as if you’ve turned completely androgynous
• Bed-bug repellent spray or tea tree oil
• SPF lip balm – I got mine with a touch of color in it
• Make-up – I had a miniature tube of mascara (in case of emergencies) and face powder.  Just having those two things brought me infinite joy.
• Sleep-ware
• Saline solution if wear contacts
• Tweezers
• Vitamins or Pills if you need them - at first I didn't, but quickly realized the food in Spain wasn't nutrient rich enough for all the exercise we were doing.

Misc:

• Sunglasses
• Contacts and/or Glasses
• Wallet or holder for passport, cash, credit card, medical cards, etc.
• Photocopies of passport & cars and index card with important number written on it
• Rubber bands - would MacGyver leave home without at least a few?
• Pen & small writing tablet - I just used my iPad

Laundry:

• Soap – preferably single-use Tide or Woolite packs
• Stretchy clothes line
• Clothes pins and/or safety pins
• Sink stopper
• Patience

Sleeping:

• Sleep sac or light weight sleeping bag (latter preferred)
• Travel alarm – you can also use your phone’s alarm
• Ear plugs & sleep mask – smartest investment you’ll make
• Head lamp – for the lights-out albergue policy both at night and in morning
• Toilet Paper – always keep extra on you!

First Aid: 

• Swiss Army Knife
• Body glide
• Whistle
• All of the following are very easy to obtain and need not be in large quantities:

o   Pain killers

o   Anti-biotic ointment

o   Band-Aids

o   Cortisone cream

o   Allergy pills

o   Antiseptic wipes

o   Large aids to arrest bleeding and treat wounds

o   Moleskin and Blister aids

Eating: 

• Spork
• Small water container – we used this for water when not hiking and leftover wine (not ashamed)
• Snacks
• Pepto-Bismol packets

A Year of Extremes

Photo by anat_tikker.

I have never been one for extremes.  I'm not a couch potato nor am I an adrenaline junkie.  I don't like thrift stores nor have I ever bought anything at Chanel.  I workout on a regular basis, but I'll eat a buffalo burger and fries with the best of 'em.  I've baked a few cookies in my day, but I couldn't tell you what the hell a 'roulade' is.  I've never been straight-edge nor have I been a hardcore partier.  I even claim agnostic... how much more neutral can one get? 

Every NYE a dear friend of mine 'deems' the next year "The year of [fill in the blank.]"  If I could sum up 2011 upon looking back, it would be "The Year of Extremes."  I didn't simply go on a vacation this year; I took three months off to walk 1000 miles through Europe with my mother.  I didn't simply fall in love; I met the love of my life.  And the kicker?  He lives thousands of miles away overseas.  I didn't just move; I suffered through a bout of bed bugs that sent me packing to a new apartment with an eviction notice awaiting.  I didn't have a few doctor's visits; I had two surgeries and mounds of medical bills.  I didn't simply get a few parking tickets like normal folk; I got into a full on car accident with a couple who hopped out like paparazzi and took pictures of the damage before I even realized I'd been in an accident.  I didn't simply chip a tooth; I cracked it on piece of sea salt in a thousand year old convent and had to have a root canal.  I'm not simply engaged to be married; I'm getting hitched in Vegas - the town where extremes are born.  And for the first time in my life I've had to hire a lawyer... Two of them!

Life has been a roller coaster ride since I took my first step in the Arles soil and began my Camino journey.  On the Camino, every day plays out much like the one before.  The real extreme is not so much the miles or the vagabond lifestyle (although those are up there), as it is the emotions you have to roll up your sweat-wicking sleeves and deal with.  Emotions you either have to battle or find a comfortable home for.  Every day new things were unearthed inside me.  Some good, some bad.  But none of them temperate.

But as this year comes to a close, I would like to say, My Dearest Camino, that I'm ready to get off the roller coaster for awhile.  You see, my back is a little tweaked from all the rocking, and I simply can't afford anymore tickets to ride.  The ups and downs of life keep it interesting, true, and when you go on the Camino, you're asking for a wild ride... a ride that doesn't end when the Cathedral of Santiago looms before you.  Yet, sometimes you've just had enough of the zigzags and free falls. 

My friend suggested that 2012 be deemed "The Year of Happiness," and I like that.  But for me, I'd like to deem my new year "The Year of Mellow Moderation."  Not only because I have a soft spot for alliteration, but because I'm ready to get off the roller coaster ride the Camino has sent me on, plant my feet and eat a funnel cake as I watch others laugh, cry, scream, barrel roll, corkscrew and twist their way to the end of the track.  And there I'll be waiting, to hand them a frozen lemonade and welcome them back to solid ground.

"Love In The Mud" Part 6 - A Camino Love Story

Leon dinner the night of the kiss(es). Red, myself and Hannes.

Ahhh, the first kiss...

My very first kiss of all time was also the worst.  Not only were my palms and pits sweaty, the guy kissed me like a snake; his tongue darting in and out of my mouth as if to catch flies.  I remember thinking to myself, 'Is this it?!  It can't be.  Had all those romantic movies lied to me?  Wasn't this supposed to be a pleasant past time?  Where were the stars and birds floating around his head?  The butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach?  Who had let the Frog Prince into this fantasy?  Yuck!'  Needless to say, I've had both good and bad kisses since (I won't even get into the infamous 'Teeth Masher' of 2000).  But none as perfect and breathtakingly life-changing as the one on that little wooden bench under the stars by the river in Leon. 

Earlier that day the gang and I stopped into the cathedral to take a look at its stained glass windows.  Hannes had already been inside, so he told me to walk around and explore while he took a moment to sit and ponder.  Look, by this point in my travels I'd seen nearly 1,000 churches and had no longing desire to add another to the list.  I'd been to big ones, small ones, ornate ones, plain ones, ones hanging on cliffs and those nestled in the prairie.  There are as many styles of churches as there are kisses.  And frankly, once you've seen La Sagrada Familia are there really any other churches worth seeing? 

But the stained glass was gorgeous, as Hannes had promised, and that musty smell of aging stone always holds a certain intriguing air of mystery for me, so I went along with his plan and began to walk alone through its kaleidoscope passageways.  Secretly inside, however, I was wishing he would walk beside me.  I didn't know if this would be my last day with him, and I wanted to savor every second.  But clingy I would not be.  So I explored solo for as long as I could muster and then took a seat beside him.  We sat in silence staring up at the light pouring in through rose and moss colored glass.  It felt good to be near him.  Even in the quiet on ancient pews so hard they put my butt to sleep.

After a dinner with friends that evening (and a meal that sent Red into vegetarian hog heaven... is that an oxymoron?), my cousin once again led the rebellion to ditch Hannes and I while our backs were turned so that we could be alone together.  Earlier she had pulled me aside and confessed she'd politely commanded Hannes to kiss me.  He had told her that he was afraid to.  That it would only make separating harder.  'Great,' I thought.  'Over before it had begun.'  At dinner I had tried to read his body language.  He flirted, alright, but didn't attempt to hold my hand or brush a piece of hair from my face like a man in love.  Could I have read him all wrong?  As we walked later alone toward the river, I told myself, 'Ah what the hell?' and put my arm through his.  What did I have to lose?  As a pilgrim you leave your pride aside the first time you wash your girlie underwear in the sink next to a hairy Spaniard's dirty Euro banana hammock.  

As the stars began to peak through the dusky sky, Hannes and I sat on a stone bench by the water, laughing and pouring our hearts out.  I led the topic to dating, first kisses, love affairs...  I didn't know how else to be obvious!  For the love of St. Jacques, was he ever going to make a move?  That quote from "Clueless" kept running through my head: "I don't get it.  Did my hair get flat?  Did I stumble into some bad lighting?"

We moved later to a little wooden bench still next to the river but now in front of a children's sand box littered with lost toys and what was most likely dog crap.  Romance at its finest.  It was more guarded, though, from the wind, and I was starting to get chilly, so it would have to do.  I wondered how much longer I could hold out here in the cold.  I wanted to be with him.  To talk to him.  Make him laugh at my California witticisms.  Bond over our gypsy stories.  But how long could a girl wait?  A few times I even thought he was starting to lean in... but then he'd bend down to tie his shoe or flick a bug from my shoulder, and my heart would sigh a long forlorn sigh.  I almost threw in the towel completely when a cockroach scurried by my feet, but something told me, 'Stick with it just a bit longer.'

Come 2am, though, I had the sinking feeling that I, Blackheart, would have to be the one to make the move.  Dread sank in.  I had been a grimy pilgrim so long, I didn't know if I had it in me to play the breathless ingenue.  But I inhaled deeplly, gathered my courage and leapt.  "Hannes?  Do you think..."  I paused.  "Never mind."  I had choked.  I couldn't do it.  But curious, Hannes started prodding me to continue and eventually I tried again.  "Do you think you could kiss me?"  Oh lord, I sounded like some Twihard preteen (not knocking it - I read all four books in the series with gusto) and not the sexy, self-confident woman of the new millennium I thought myself to be at home.  I turned to face him.  Ready for Hannes to laugh or tell me exactly what he'd told my cousin hours earlier.  But no.  All I saw was a smile.  A sparkle.  A look that said, 'Thank goodness.'  "Yes," he told me, grinning ear to ear.

As he began to lean toward me, I was consumed with nerves.  Now, I'm an old kissing pro, and I don't mind telling you that I've been told on many an occasion that I'm top notch.  No, the fear was that we wouldn't be good kissers together.  You know what I mean.  A bad kiss with even the dreamiest of a partner can be a deal breaker.  I silently hoped it would be magic.  Or at least good enough to work with...  But it was more than I could have ever expected.  It was that one perfect kiss you get in a lifetime.  A kiss that sends chills down your spine and sets off fireworks in your stomach and a dull ache in your heart.  A kiss that makes all others fade away into forgotten mediocrity.  And that tells you, at last, here he is.  Your soul mate. 

We pulled away and looked at each other in astonishment.  I knew he was thinking and feeling exactly as I was.  We giggled like nerds at Comic-Con.  WHAT WAS THAT?!  We decided to give it another shot.  Test our luck.  And then another.  And another.  And by 4am with our lips chapped and throats dry and a creepy street cleaner watching us from afar as he sprayed the sidewalks, we decided it was time to part.  I felt like a teenager.  I hadn't made out with someone on a park bench... well, ever.  But I did remember that feeling when you were young and kissing was the coolest thing you'd ever experienced and you could do it for hours.  All night if you got the chance.  I just never thought I would feel that again.  Yet with Hannes everything was new.  Love was as it should be.  Innocent.  Vulnerable.  Full of promise.  And, well, totally hot!!!!

He walked me to my parador, now awash in the shadows of night like a sleeping giant.  The enormous courtyard was empty.  The massive doors shut tight.  The gargoyles on full alert.  I was a maiden in a fairy tale returned to her castle by the prince.  We hugged and said our goodbyes.  "We have to see each other again.  We don't have a choice now," he told me, my face cupped in his callused pilgrim hands.  "No choice," I agreed, watching the stars and birds circle around his head.  (I knew they existed!)  As he began to walk away, and I tried desperately to pry open the 2-ton parador door, we turned back around to catch one more glimpse of each other.  "You're amazing!" he yelled, unable to contain his happiness.  "You're amazing!" I cried back without missing a beat.  "Amazing!"  And I meant it.  'I'm going to marry this man,' I thought.  The girl who never ever in a million years wanted to get married is going to tie the knot one day with this amazing Belgian mud walker.  I couldn't believe the change in me.  What was this Camino up to? 

Even in the dark at a distance I could see his smile and hear his racing heartbeat.  Even in the dark I could see love walking away.

To be continued...

"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...

"Love In The Mud" Part 4 - A Camino Love Story

From Fromista I would like to skip ahead (in my dirty hiking boots) just a few kilometers to Carrion de los Condes.  Hannes and I didn't cross paths that day on the road, and the end result should have been a warning that walking with him really did bring good luck.  The Cali gang and I chose the shorter path along the freeway, as many did, and wound up with mouths full of gnats (oh, the gnats!) and screaming feet from walking at break neck speeds to get away from the winged plague.  I looked like a mad woman on the trail, swinging my poles wildly in a helpless attempt to ward them off.  Luckily, everyone was doing this crazy dance - an endless line of jerking, swatting and twitching hikers, which gave new meaning to the song "I Wave My Hair Back and Forth."  Hannes and Juliano had chosen wisely, walking leisurely and without bouts of epilepsy along the canal.

The sunny square in Carrion.

As I went through my usual routine in the hostel in Carrion, washing my gnat encrusted clothes in the sink (they had drowned in my sweat apparently) and massaging cream into my aching pups, I realized I actually missed Hannes that day.  His good humor.  His smile.  His chatter.  Our thinly veiled flirtations.  His accent (oh, the accent!)  Even Juliano's lessens to him on how to be a proper gentleman... All of it.  Just as I was wondering whether or not to text him, my beautiful new iPhone sang the loveliest tune.  He had texted me that he was in the square, which just so happened to be below our window.  I texted him to "look up," waving to him and his friends laying out in the afternoon sun, drinking beers and picking at a roasted chicken like the ravenous pilgrim animals we'd become.  He waved back, smiling and gesturing me to come down and join them.  Looking at him in his sleeveless t-shirt (if you need help picturing this, he's a lifeguard), I decided applying tea tree oil to my toe nails could wait...

The boys at the butcher.

A few minutes later I was sitting on the bench writing postcards to my girlfriends with lines like, "I am currently sitting across from a hot Belgian drinking San Miguel... jealous?"  Hannes made us all a grand pasta dinner that night (jealous?); about ten of us searching through the streets trying to find the right ingredients.  I looked at him across the table as we ate, and there was something in his eyes, a tiny gleam that told me he had been thinking of me that day, too. 

After dinner, Red talked everyone into ditching Hannes and I as we all strolled through town.  We looked behind us, and suddenly the crew had vanished like Spaniards during siesta.  I felt like a nervous high schooler - her friends trying to hook her up with the cute football player.  Only my football player was wearing a Quick Dry shirt and fanny pack, and this cheerleader was in a dress that she had now worn four consecutive nights with Euros tucked into her bra.  We kept walking despite their prank and sat on stone benches down by the river.  I got the sense mosquitoes were biting the hell out of me, but I didn't care.  Later, Red and I dropped the boys off at their convent dormitory, as the nuns had a strict pilgrim curfew of 10pm.  As I said goodbye to him through the gate, I couldn't help but think, "lucky nuns"... Definitely not a phrase that gets thrown around a lot.

We had decided that night that even though the boys were walking further than us the next day, we would meet in the morning for coffee and then walk together until our final farewell in some hellishly tiny village whose name I have purposely forgotten out of sheer post traumatic stress.  (Yes, I'm referring to the place where the urinals sat next to the sink - me brushing my teeth as a man peed beside me.)  It was a bitter sweet walk.  'So this is it...', I thought.  'The end.  Some good Facebook friends who you chat with time to time and that's it.' 

Once at the village, we cracked open a bottle of cheap wine and toasted to our time together over a picnic lunch.  (The infamous incident when Juliano, looking over at Red covered in and surrounded by crumbs with a huge hungry grin on her face, made the astute observation, "You eat like baby.")  In between bites of stale bread and olives, just when I had prepared myself to say 'so long' and suck it up, Hannes turned to me and said with those damn puppy dog eyes of his, "I'm so happy to have met you."  Like the chocolate bar I'd been carrying around in my backpack, I melted.  Because when he said it, you knew he meant it.  My cousin was so moved she even let out an "Ahhh," as if we were in the studio audience at a live "Full House" taping.  I smiled, made some awkward reply and realized that not seeing him again wasn't an option. 

The 'Adios' picture. Left to right: Juliano, Blackheart, Red, Hannes

We took pictures together, mumbled 'Buen Camino' and gave each other what Hannes said were not goodbyes but "see you later" hugs.  I hoped his words held truth.  Red and I watched the boys walk away down the road, their backpacks bumping along as their poles ticked away into the dusty earth and waved to them for what seemed like twenty minutes, like grandparents watching you pull away in the car.  I had no idea how we'd see each other again, but for now, texting would have to do.  "Did you get a text from your Camino boyfriend?" Red asked me with a sneaky smile later that evening over glasses of Four Roses bourbon.  I had.  About 10 of them since we parted ways.  I took it as a good sign of things to come.  Our conversations hadn't ended on the trail, after all.  They'd only just begun.

But no moment together on the Camino up to that point could have prepared Hannes and I for what happened days later in the city where my belief in magic was resurrected.  The city of the Hostel Pauper and Parador Princess.  The city of our first kiss.  My favorite city in Spain.  The city where we fell in love.  Leon...

To be continued...

Love in the Time of Cooties

Last Sunday I began to throw my life away.  Figuratively and literally.  Down an apartment trash shoot (and into a recycle bin, so don't call the green police) I dumped the contents of nearly my entire worldly existence - books, shoes, files, frames, letters from past loves, DVDs, paper towel rolls (hey, they cost money too), discolored photographs, yoga mat, even a toaster.  Luckily, Monday afternoon an entire new sparkling life came my way.  Not up a trash shoot but via Video Skype.  But more on that to come...  First, the deluge.

When I found out my apartment had a case of the bed bugs (let the screaming, itching and gagging begin), I went out of my freakin' mind.  Mainly because the final confirmation came only a handful of days before I left for Belgium.  I remember calling Hannes about 6am in the morning crying and insisting that if he didn't want me to come to visit I would understand.  I was the California plague, and I wasn't going to spread it abroad!  Thankfully he was in his right mind, unlike my panicking, sniffling, loathing self, and brushed the notion aside.  I was, however, going to buy all new luggage and have every stitch of clothing dry cleaned.  I wouldn't wish these devilish creatures on even my worst enemy, let alone my true love.

The worst part of this atrocity is that these creatures like to hide.  Even if you catch them early, as I did, you can never be sure one might be hitchhiking in your bedside alarm clock.  So as I pack up to move to San Francisco on the 1st, everything that can't be cooked in the newly purchased Cootie Cooker (not the copyrighted name), washed or dry cleaned must be tossed down the shoot or hauled away, including every last piece of furniture.  And let's face it, a cooker that takes nearly two hours per load means most stuff you say 'to hell with' and toss away.  I mean, what do you really need to get by?  If the Camino taught me anything (of which it actually taught quite a lot), it was that all you need can fit into a single stained and stinky backpack.

I won't lie, though; it's hard.  Saying goodbye to the old life in such a permanent way takes some guts.  When mom and I did the initial purging before I left for Belgium, we both - now keep in mind we were very unstable emotionally at this point as things were fresh - broke down in tears when we realized Bunny, whom I've had since I was five, had to be incinerated.  Bunny, you should know, is part of the family.  Twice my stepmother has made outfits for him when I was well into my 20s.  He even spent some time without me in Molokai enjoying the ocean view when dad asked for him to be shipped to his Hawaiian house to hang out.  I realize I'm making myself and my family sound crazy, but there you have it.  The end result is that mom and I couldn't bear the thought and tossed the rabbit (this is a stuffed animal I'm talking about, not a 25-year-old graying rabbit) into the hot wash with the rest of the danger zone clothing items and crossed our fingers he'd make it out alive.  My stepmom plans to make him a new outfit to cover the bald spots.

Yet, at the same time, getting rid of these things was freeing.  Every time I threw something away, I thought of Hannes leaving behind so much of his stuff to come to California to be with me.  If he could do it, so could I.  Sure we may end up with zero furniture and limited kitchen supplies (I asked him to spare his juicer), but slowly a new Ikea adorned life would eventually take shape.

Perhaps it was my acceptance (no matter how begrudging) of losing my old life that allowed the new one to knock on my virtual Skype door.  On Monday in my PJ's and glasses, my Camino love (in his bike jersey) gave a mischievous grin and invited me to a life of adventure, love, gypsy travel and lots of Belgian beer and waffles by becoming his wife.  As a girl who used to claim I would never marry, my exuberant 'Yes!' may come as a surprise.  But if you could have seen inside my heart and head the first time Hannes and I kissed on a bench by the river in Leon, you would know that this 'Yes!' appeared instantaneously and was already waiting there this Monday ready to be freed. 


At risk of sounding wise beyond my years (hehe), the beauty of living is that we are offered opportunities to reinvent ourselves all along the way.  Like the cat, nine lives are truly possible.  Living and embracing them all is simply a matter of being open to change and accepting the dualities of life... In my case, that true love in the form of a magical life-altering proposal, has come in the Time Of Cooties.  It wasn't just material things falling down that shoot, it was the girl who used to be.  The Camino changed me, and although I wish this newest lesson had come via something more mild mannered than bed bugs, like,say, a flood or armed robbery, I am so happy to be starting fresh with the man I met in the Meseta mud.  In the arms of Jay the Hauler went Ms. Gypsy.

Looking forward to meeting Mrs. Gypsy.  She may not have furniture but you can bet Sint Bernardus will be stocked in her fridge.

"Love In The Mud" Part 3 - His Story

[More from guest writer, Belgian and my Camino Love, Hannes Bral...]


The night in Castrogeriz,we walked the Californian ladies back to Tess’ place after dinner.  I had no clue whatsoever if she liked me or not.  But the first signal I presumed to be one of interest, I can still recall.  As we said goodbye and promised to meet up the next day, I noticed a change in her eyes.  She looked at me and said goodnight in a different way than before.  It was almost as if she wanted to make that moment last a bit longer.  But as cold-hearted as I still was at that time, I did not act on it.  Just said goodnight back, and the moment was gone.

Juliano and I walked back to our albergue, which was a great place.  It had a policy that no pilgrim could get up before 6am!  Which is a huge blessing.  No zipper sounds at 4am, no plastic bags opening and crinkling, no headlights blinding you as you half-open your sleepy eyes and think, 'Omg, yet another day ahead, pilgrim!

The following morning I woke up to Gregorian chants playing in the background.  The hospitalero, dressed in a monk costume, came wandering in the room with a lantern and in a friendly and gentle voice, woke up the entire dorm.  Everyone started laughing and applauding, as it was a very unusual but original way of waking up.  As it turned out, the hospitalero, who was a very kind man, had done the Camino a few times and wanted the pilgrims to feel at ease.

View from the top.

I lost track of time.  Hey, wasn’t I supposed to meet a gorgeous Caligirl that morning?  It was way past 7am already, so Juliano and I were late to meet them.  But I had the firm belief, somehow, that I would catch up as I had done before.  So we started our day of walking in the cold morning air.  That day had something magical about it.  The sky was so beautifully dramatic.  The rising sun had rays of light coming down as if the heavens were opening up (well, at least, that is how my grandma would describe the view, if she saw that sky).  It was breathtaking.

It was also quite a walk up the mountain.  My heart was beating like crazy, and it wasn’t because of Tess (not yet, that is.)  Speaking of Tess... Guess who was looking out over the valley at the top?  That same cute Caligirl with the lovely hat on.  My mood switched from being exhausted from the climb to sheer happiness upon seeing her!  My heart was still racing!  Normally, a heart slows down its rhythm once you take some rest... so how could this be? 

She had taken some strong medicine for her cold that day.  That I remember.  As we walked together again, we talked, shared, laughed, went ahead, stayed behind, waited for Juliano and Red...  But there was one thing striking to me: we could fill up all those moments talking, and I so much enjoyed her presence.  I felt at ease with her, and I was thinking to myself, ‘This Caligirl is kind of special.'  I really hadn’t met a girl like that before!

 
Upon arrival in the town of Fromista, we split up because Juliano and I had another albergue, while the girls were staying with their mothers in a hostal.  Juliano looked at his printed paper of sleeping options and decided on a private albergue.  A big contrast to the day before, actually.  

That night we met up for our second dinner together, and when I saw Tess, my heart felt like it skipped a little beat.  ‘Damn, I’m liking this girl’ I thought to myself...

"Love In The Mud" Part 3 - A Camino Love Story

Posing for a picture before dinner in Castrogeriz.

I went back to our little hotel that night in Castrogeriz, pondering what had transpired at dinner.  Could I actually like this guy after only one day of walking together and a simple French phrase uttered over a menu peregrino (which he kept shaking his head and laughing about, not believing a guide book could have a name as ridiculous as Miam Miam Dodo)?

A quick anecdote about the aforementioned hotel... When my mother asked the proprietor if we could have an extra blanket for the night (being Spring, all furnaces, we quickly realized as we put wool socks on to go to bed our first week of walking, had been temporarily shut down for the season), the man refused, telling her he would bet us 1000 Euros we wouldn't need it.  So as I lay in bed shivering myself to sleep, I couldn't help but look forward to the next day's walk.  We hadn't made solid plans to hike together again, but Hannes and Juliano had mumbled something in between goodnight hugs about trying to meet at 7am in front of Rick's albergue; although our Cali gang were notorious early risers, and the boys weren't so sure they could rise to the occasion.  Oh, and that 1000 Euros the proprietor bet my mom?  The blanket-hoarder never paid up.

As the Cali gang gathered in front of Rick's albergue the next morning, the boys were nowhere to be seen.  Normally, Rick was about 5 to 10 minutes late in joining the rest of us, which would have bought Hannes and Juliano some time to meet up, but low and behold Rick was right smack on time, waiting for us with a smile and a morning song (this one was about trekking poles I think?)  So I shuffled my feet around a bit and slowed my pace to see if perhaps that head of shaggy blond hair would appear from behind a stone corner, but alas, no mud-walker to be seen.  Red and I chatted away on the trail, instead, with me pretending total indifference... 'Oh they'll catch up maybe.  Whatever.  No biggie.  Was nice to meet them.  Great guys.  Yada yada yada blah blah blah.'  Blackheart was in full effect, spinning a web of lies a kilometer long.

Meanwhile, we had a huge mountain to climb, and my sick lungs were screaming in agony.  During one stop to catch my breath, I spied the Belgian/Portuguese duo below, a kilometer or so behind.  Sweat poured down my face in sheets, and I was breathing like a Sumo wrestler after running a 5k.  Oh no, he wasn't going to see me like this!  My treaded feet flew up the mountain, hoping to reach the top in time to put myself back together like a pilgrim Humpty Dumpty.  There I stood at the top (finally!), raising my hands to take a picture of the view below, when in reality I was lifting them up to dry my armpits in the icy morning breeze.  Have I confirmed to you my sex symbol status yet?  The pictures were beautiful though.  The sky over the distant hillside village below was gray except for rays of sunlight spilling over the top like a crown of gold.  Gorgeous.  (Hannes' came out the best, so will try to persuade him to share when he writes his version.)

A well-deserved 'top of the hill' snack.

Then, suddenly, there the boys were.  My sweat-stache had nearly dried up by that point, and my breathing had slowed to a somewhat normal state, so I made my way over, gave a casual hello (which was literally all my lungs could squeak out) and joined them for another day's walk.  And guess what?  Turns out this Belgian was even more amazing than I had first deduced.  You see, shortly before I left for the Camino, I had made a mental list of all the things I wanted in a partner and all the things I didn't.  Let's call it a 'Hit & Miss' compilation of every man I'd dated over the last 15 years.  Okay, let's say 25 years because there was that boy Davy in preschool who had really bad breath when he kissed me on the playground, and bad breath had definitely made the 'Miss' list from then on out.  (Sorry, Davy, if you're reading this.  You were young.  I'm sure your bad breath phase has since passed, as has my horridly frightful permed hair stage.)

As Hannes and I walked with Juliano and Red, I watched in amazement - 'stupefied' is really the term that best sums up my state of being - as Hannes checked off every last 'Hit' item on my list.  He was patient, sincere, had a great sense of humor, was spiritual but not strictly religious, friendly to anyone and everyone, adventurous, a movie lover (as a film major, that is a must) and had the same seize life with both hands gypsy heart I did.  The man even drove a Campervan!  A modern day gypsy caravan, which I already pictured myself riding in if I must admit.  And he adored his border collie, Luka, so my father and step-mom back home would love him.  If this was a "3 Stooges" movie I would be rubbing my eyes and blinking heavily as if to clear the hallucination before me.  A few more miles, and it became clear he also lacked the items in my 'Miss' list.  He didn't smoke.  Didn't drink much (although he assured me he could make a mean mojito - plus 2).  Wasn't lazy or judgemental.  Wasn't shallow - i.e. he liked women who were natural and curvy (seriously, he's an angel sent from heaven right?)

As we got closer to town, we sat and waited by a canal for Juliano and Red to catch up.  An hour later Red came whizzing by as if her butt was on fire.  A frantic Juliano then informed us that ticks had attacked her while she was using the bushes (note to future pilgrims: when choosing pee-estate, bushes are like long abandoned houses up for sale... you have no clue who or what has made themselves at home inside.)  And that's how I came to guard Red from onlookers under a highway overpass as she pulled down her pants to check for ticks... But that's another story.

Actually, this town of Fromista was ripe with good trail anecdotes, including the fact that as I lay down in bed to rest up for chores and dinner (yes, as a pilgrim you must rest in order to be able to complete the physical act of eating), I discovered the sheets were soaking wet!  The little old ladies who owned the joint had no idea what could have happened (the sheets and not the comforter!  Is that even possible?!), and gave my mom and I a huge room overlooking the main town plaza.  We decided in the future to spill water on the bed if our room was too small.  (If you have ever crammed yourself into a room the size of a coffin after walking 14 miles, you  understand how morality shifts ever so slightly in order for a pilgrim to survive.)

Red & I in our Juliet balconies in Fromista.

The boys had planned to meet up for dinner, once again, and as I leaned against my Juliet balcony purveying the pilgrims in the plane tree plaza below - writing postcards, sharing foot abnormalities, drinking cold Spanish beer - I spied Hannes in the distance with that kind smile of his, chatting away with fellow pilgrims, and I thought to myself, 'I guess Romeos really do exist.'

To be continued...

"Love In The Mud" Part I & 2 - His Story

 I set out on a quest in search of myself and ended up finding love...

[Part 1 and 2 by Hannes Bral]

As you are all now familiar with the story, I wanted to give you  a glimpse into my little Camino Love world.  And, please, pardon me for my English, as my native language is, in fact, Dutch...  Well, I should correct myself and say it's Flemish.

My story starts just before the Camino, as I had lost my way a bit.  I had all these different choices to make, a relationships gone bad, physical exhaustion from not having enough sleep, and so on.  But I got myself together, packed my bags, took vacation from work and set of on an adventure called the Camino de Santiago.  I was doing it no matter what anyone said!  My boss at work even told me, "If you don’t go, you 're not getting your vacation days back."  That was his way of making me do it, and what a way it was...  No turning back!

I remember someone even telling me, "Maybe you’ll meet a girl on the Camino."  That phrase raised my eyebrows a bit, and I kindly replied, "I’m not looking for love on the Camino; just me and myself walking."  

I wasn’t sure what lay ahead, but I was excited!

The first week of walking felt kind of like my birth on the Camino.  I had to learn all new skills and get used to the pain in my knees, hips and back, as they were not used to carrying the heavy backpack and walking for so long everyday.  What made it bearable were all the amazing people I met along the way.  People who kept me going, made me forget my physical discomforts and who even told me about a wondergel named Radio Salil - sounds like a Spanish radio station, but in fact, helped a lot.  I would use it just before I'd go to sleep; twisting in my sleeping bag and trying to rub it on without making any noises.  Albergues were already loud enough, filled with sounds of all kinds, especially symphonies of snoring.

I had days when I walked alone along desolate, beautiful nature trails, with sometimes not even a single soul present, except me and some birds making funny sounds as they flew by.  That gave me the opportunity to have some time to myself to reflect on my life as it had been up to that point.  [Side note: I’m also one of the ‘81 babies that will turn 30 this year!  Starting a new decade of adventures still to come...]  It did me good to have that ‘me time'.  There were even days on the trail when I didn’t take any time to think about that sort of stuff.  Instead, I just walked and enjoyed what was going on around me, or just the simple act of saying "Buen Camino" as someone passed by.

On one of my reflection days,  I had a strange thing happen to me.  I was thinking back on my love life so far and the question marks surrounding it.  Amazingly, out of that thinking I started having a conversation with my heart.  I know it sounds funny, and I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was digging really deep into that organ people sometimes just refer to as a muscle.  Yet, it is much more than that as I was about to discover.  I asked my heart what was wrong.  'Why didn’t I experience the love that I once felt?  Why didn’t I fall madly in love when I'd go on a date?  Was I getting too old for those sort of butterflies?  What was happening?' 

A revealing answer came, as the heart started opening up to me.  ‘You take the hurt of a lost relationship too personal,’ it said.  ‘You don’t allow yourself to feel that wonderful love again.  You put a wall up to protect yourself, so that nothing and no one can hurt you!  Instead, you should let it go.  Let love back into your life and start looking for the signs all around you.'  I would later discover what all this meant, but for now I thought to myself, 'Easier said than done.'  Though, in my head I had the firm belief that one day I would find what I was looking for.

After 20 days of walking, I wanted to give myself a treat, so rather than sleep poorly in another albergue packed with snoring pilgrims, I took a hotel.  I was in Burgos - an amazing city full of life, culture and spirit.  I loved it.  After a wonderful dinner with Camino friends and some nighttime walking trough the gorgeous moonlit city, I almost decided to take another day off.  I could sleep in and maybe visit the city some more...  But that morning, as I woke up late around 9am,  something in me said, ‘Why don’t you walk today?  Take it easy.  Like a rest day while walking?'  That thought would change my life as I knew it!

I set off on a lazy laid back hike to the village of Hornillos.  Walking at this point had already become like a routine for me.  Muscles on autopilot, and backpack light as a feather.  My Camino buddy Juliano and I walked into the village right before a thunderstorm hit.  As lightening and heavy rain filled the afternoon sky, we arrived at the albergue and got the last two beds in the main house.  This meant we were staying there for sure.

In the morning, I got up earlier than Juliano and decided to have breakfast and get an early head start on the day.  As I was quietly eating my already hard bocadillo - as a real pilgrim you sometimes take the food as it is presented to you, and I still had leftovers from the day before - I noticed two girls, Tess (your blog author) and Emily (otherwise known as Red), who I didn’t know yet, walk into the kitchen area.  That lovely girl with the hat on and the walking sticks already in her hands caught my eye.  But as a mantra playing in my head, I told myself, 'I'm not looking for love.  I'm not looking for love.'  Though, I have to admit, she looked interesting to me.

Not knowing I was going to meet her again, I set off on my walk.  As I was racing through the mud - Tess is right in saying we Belgians are used to walking through mud-infested tracks, as we have lots of rain in our little country - I passed by that girl with the hat, and she yelled "show off!" at me.  'Hmm, now it's getting interesting,' I thought to myself.  'Why is she saying that to me?'  She caught my attention right that very moment.  Something dormant inside me had been awoken.

So I decided to walk that day with Tess and Emily.  As Juliano caught up and joined us, he started walking with Emily, and I had time to get to know Tess a little better.  My big wall around my heart was still standing, so no feelings were allowed to pass through. Yet, it wasn't like a normal friendship between us, as we kept talking while walking that Meseta path.  I really liked her already.  Her voice.  Her humor.  Yes, it was even the first time a girl could make me laugh; that on its own was amazing to me.

Yet, the fear of falling for someone fast was still there, so it brought me back to reality.  My realist mind again said, 'Well, she’s American; you’re Belgian.  You’re both in Spain, so don’t get anything in your head, man!'  Keeping the facts in mind, I felt confident that there was no pressure to impress.  We started sharing our thoughts, dreams and experiences.  Talked about where our life was going, where we wanted it to go, what bad love stories had come before.  I mean, we shared it all.  As Tess put it, it was like two soul mates catching up with one another.  I started noticing that time flew by in her presence.  What normally takes about half a day walking. seemed only hours.

           

When we arrived in the next village, I didn’t want to say goodbye just yet.  It didn’t feel right after meeting someone that special!  So I insisted that we meet up for dinner.  Juliano and I left the California gang and got ourselves yet another snugly albergue, which wasn't even open upon our arrival.  Yet, it would turn out to be one of the best places we'd  stayed in on the entire trip. 

The dinner that night was also fantastic.  There was a good vibe in that cozy little restaurant... or was it something else?  Was it because of the company?  Had something changed in me?  I remember that night at the table, little sparks filling our eyes.  I had a different way of looking at Tess.  Something, indeed, had changed... 

To be continued...