Day 34: Santiago de Compostela

Last day I'll wake up in this Camino. The whole feel was no rush. Everyone rolling around in their bunks in the gentle blue hues of daybreak. Not wanting this day to begin because it would only mean the Camino would end.
Half our group was extra sleepy. We all got ready and trickled out to the road where we'd begin our descent into the city together. While some of us waited, we checked the cafe to maybe grab breakfast, but it was closed still at 7am.
As we waited for our friends, we watched the sun rise behind us.

We met up with Olya, David, and Denis down the road. The stripped off their sandals and boots to descend barefoot. It has a history of being a Camino tradition for some. My feet have enough problems. Are group divides as we go down the paced road of the hill.

Separately and silently we walk into the city. Each having our moment of arrival and reflection.
The outskirts of Santiago were inderwhelming, really. You cross a long, rickety wooden bridge (fearing for your life at some spots and wondering why they can't redo the bridge by now--maybe it's for effect). The city is kinda dirty. Like a San Francisco, a Sacramento, or a Manhattan. Typical city, I suppose.
As we get closer to the center, we atop at our final cafe to have breakfast together. Olya, David, and Denis pass us on barefoot to make it to the Cathedral sooner.
No napolitanas. So I just order toast and coffee. We sit on the streetside patio table and watch the other pilgrims pass by. There are others walking barefoot. We clean up our dishes and continue towards the city center. As we walk I spot a panadería. I leave the other three, jet in and order the last chocolate napolitana on the Camino and receive my final stamp before the pilgrim's office. I catch up with the other three again.
"Did you get your chocolate croissant?"  Lainey smiles.
"I did," I grin back.
It was the best one of the whole trip.

As we near the plaza, it's meeting our expectations more. It's seeming more like what we'd imagined. Medieval buildings and cobblestone streets. This is it.
We approach the front of the Cathedral. It's huge, but it's under construction. Not quite as photogenic as we'd hoped, but eh.

We begin to see other people we'd met the past month. We hug. Smile. Exchange congratulations. We've made it. We've all reached our goal and we're here together.
Make our way to the pilgrim's office to receive our Compostela certificate of completion.
We're standing in line along the the outside wall of the building behind a large high school group who also arrived this morning. Sarria (5 days ago) was their start-point.

Dong. Dong. Dong. The cathedral bells sound that it's 9 o'clock. The line suddenly moves inside. Apparently the office opens at 9am.
It's a DMV sort of call system where you stand in a line and it indicates which window to go to.

We wait for about ten minutes. Olya, David, and Denis have already recieved their Compostelas up ahead.

The screen above me blinks "Puesto 9" and dings like a Cathedral bell indicating that it's my turn.
The gentle gal seated behind the desk asks for my credencials. She scans them over checking the stamp dates.

"What's your name?"
"Lynda Davis"
"Where did you start?"
"St.Jean-Pie-de-Port"
"Did you walk the whole thing?"
"Yes."
"And what is your reason for partaking in the pilgrimage?"
"Spiritual."

She hands me a paper to fill out that asks all the same questions I just answered aloud. I hand it back and she in turn hands me my Compostela.

"Congratulations and welcome to Santiago."
"Thank you."

I meet up in the foyer with Lainie and Chris. Their names are both written in Latin. Some of the clerks do that and others don't.

We fond Olya, Denis, and David sitting in the small chapel waiting for morning prayer. I ask what it will be like. Something about Psalms. I'm down, so we all sit in the pews as well. Only our group and two older gals who appear to be running the morning prayer are in the chapel.

The two of them work a laptop to begin a slideshow of two songs. The first is various pictures that correspond with the excerpt on seasons found in the book of Ecclesiastes. It is set to classical music with translations of each verse in English and Spanish:

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.”
‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3:1-8‬ ‭

The second slideshow malfunctions. It plays the song, but stays stuck on the first slide the whole song through. It was kind of a cheesy song called "I Have Known You". The singers voice was creepy, but I appreciated the good intentions behind the person that made the slideshow.

One of the gals came up and directed us to take a few moments of silence to reflect on the Camino and what are life will be like after the Camino. It was such a beautiful moment to take with this people I've grown to love in this small, dark, candle-lit chapel. After a few moments, the gal invited us to join in the back room behind the alter for tea and discussion about the Camino.

Josephine, one of the gals who works with Camino Companions and put-on the prayer time, gets us all set up in chairs that are positioned in a circle in  the small, sunlit room. She's particularly fond of Denis because they're both from Ireland. She heats the water for coffee and tea as she leads us in questions to promote discussion.

"You'll return home and you'll want to talk to your friends and family about the Camino, and they'll appear interested because they love you, but they're not going to be able to connect with your experiences like you'd want. They haven't lived what you've lived here. For this reason, it's important to let your experiences out here with people who will understand, so that you don't take it all with you bottled up and find yourself disappointed that no one back home really gets it."

We almost an hour enjoying the eachother's company as we share our reflections and expectations with one another. It was perfect because other than Josephine, everyone else there was a part of our group we'd formed. Our Camino family together sharing and reflecting.
Even Stanley and Big David showed up to join in on our special time together.

We finish our time together and a few of us excuse ourselves. I ask the security guard about where to fond the train station.
"Straight down. 10 minutes," he motions behind me with his hands.

We walk up to Cathedral and take a few more pictures. Congratulate more people we see. I take off to head to the train station to buy my ticket for later.
We plan to meet in the plaza before 12 so we can go to the special pilgrims' mass together.

I head "straight" down the cobblestone streets to the train station to buy my ticket. The road doesn't really "straight". So I get lost. I have this habit of waiting until I'm really lost and desperate before asking for help. Because of this, I was 15min off track before I stopped in a tobacco shop for directions. Five minutes later, I had to stop in another tobacco shop. What should've taken me 10min took me 45.

No line to buy the ticket. I was in and out. Outside the train station I took of my jacket and socks because I was hot. 11:49. I have heard rumors that they lock the cathedral for this mass since it's so special and they don't want interruptions. I powerwalk back up the hill. Taking the long way by accident. Arrive to the plaza at 12:03 where I was supposed to meet my buds several minutes ago. So many more people are here now in comparison to an hour ago. Various street performers and musicians. Large groups of pilgrims chanting. I head around to one of the side entrances to the cathedral where it looks like people are still being let in. I attempt to get in line when a beggar lady grabs my attention, points to my backpack, and wags her finger at me to let me know I'm not allowed to take it inside. I remember hearing this now.
"Ah, ¿Dónde lo pongo?" I inquire.
She points to a building 30ft away that is called "Left Luggage". 2€ to leave your luggage for the whole day, use wifi, charge phones, coffee, etc. Cool. Sign me up. I put anything I might need on-hand in my cloth bag to take with. In three minutes I'm back by the cathedral line and hand the beggar lady a euro and thank her for the tip.
"Muchas gracias, guapa," she responds enthusiastically. Here in Spain they use a lot of colloquial and complimentary words to address women: guapa, maja, bonita. If they don't know my name, that's what they call me. I guess it would be the equivalent of strangers in the States saying "sweetie" or "darling". Here in Spain it's just more pertinent to appearance rather than demeanor I guess.

So I'm standing in line behind 25 or so people. The harsh security guard gives very outright instructions of "no cameras, this is not a tour, it's mass, be silent" etc. All valid points and demands, but very unkind. Must be a reason. They begin to let us in and the other nice guard puts down the rope right in front of me. I must've had a shocked look on my face because he lifted it back up and asked, "Oh, are you with them?" he points to the couple in front of me.
I hesitate for a moment as I look at the couple in front of the rope with so much longing to be their daughter, sister, or cousin, "No, I am not," I sadly respond. He ties down the rope.
Did I miss my chance? Do I not get to be a part of this special service?
An elderly man (wearing slacks and a shirt) squeezes to the front, lifts the rope, and goes on in. The guards just smile at him.
Less than one minute later the harsh guard again gives his instructions and demands, the rope is again lifted, and I lead the people behind me into the giant cathedral.

We enter mid-homily. The priest in his starchy red robe stands on the marble platform in the middle of the enormous chapel. There are no fee than 1000 people within these tall, echoey, stone walls. His homily is, of course, directed towards pilgrims to have us reflect on our journey. He references the book of Jeremiah, which he must've read before I entered. I begin to wonder if he gives the same homily every day. Maybe the passage is from a different part of the Bible... but does he always tie it back to the same message for the pilgrims? Does he get tired of it? Every day at noon preaching the same message? Maybe he has priests who he alternates with. Probably.

After the homily comes the offering, giving of the peace, and the Eucharist.
The elderly man (now wearing a burgundy robe) who cut me in line before comes all throughout the pews and the people as he's carrying a velvet bag to collect offering. Now I get why he got to cut in line before. Ha!
During this time the huge organ is accompanies a nun who sings hymns over the speakers mounted on the pillars of the church. This is the first mass I've been to where the organ was played. Such massive and glorious sounds are emitted from these thick pipes. Awe-struck.
After the typical liturgy comes the part we've all been waiting for. That we've heard about. Seen in the movie.
The incense. It was rumored that they may or may not have it. That someone or some group has to pay a large sum for the incense to be performed and offered. Not sure how it all worked out, but I got to see it.

The priest explained that we would be offering these aromas as a thanksgiving to the Lord.
The clergymen in their burgundy robes approached the rope they would collectively operate. Father Stanley (the Catholic priest from India) aided some other priests in filling the thurible (a large metal cage in which the incense are burned) with the oily woods and herbs. The robed clergymen all at once pulled down hard to iniciate the swinging of the thurible. Such a beautiful, collaborative effort. The force they used together seemed to be passion-driven.
Can you guess what half the people around me did the moment this began? Yep, whipped out their phones to watch it through their screens. Honestly, I was totally tempted to do the same. It was almost an instinctual movement of my hand to my purse. But then I stopped myself and reminded Lynda to be present. To enjoy the moment. That a camera can't capture this moment better than my brain and senses can experience them. And that watching it through my phone screen would not be nearly as beautiful. So I refrained. It was amazing. My eyes flipped between the swing of the thurible and the force of the clergymen. Back and forth. St certain angles, I could see the orange flames glimmerng within the thurible. The smoke gently seeped from the grooves and cutouts of the shiny metal. It dispersed throughout the air of the chapel like a thin cloud. I wanted to smell it, so I walked around the side to get a little closer. Oh, the smell! I can't describe it. But it was so pleasing. I could've stayed there forever just to take-in the aroma.
As the swinging slows, the clergymen grab hold of it to stop it, pull out the incense, and everyone is dismissed. It is then that I pull out my camera to snap a picture of the thurible.

After admiring the chapel a little longer. I head outside. First I go for complimentary coffee at luggage place. I want to find my buds, so I look in the plaza--still just lots of street performers and big groups chanting.
I head to what I thought to be a quieter spot in a side alley to call Gaspar and Venancia to let them know I've arrived and to thank them again. Mid-conversation with Venancia (who is very pleases that I called), a large group of pilgrims comes marching by chanting. I picked a bad place to make a phonecall. Ha! This is happy pilgrim territory.
Wrapping up the call with Venancia, Lainey sneaks up next to me and waits for me to finish the call. I was so happy to see her.
We walk with the group to go take pictures in front of the Cathedral again--this time with everyone.
We all make our way down the streets to seek out a good/inexpensive restaurant to enjoy lunch together at. The seven of us squeeze inside and share a few tables as we enjoy our meals and company.
I order Galician stew (which I love) and coffee. We take a few more pictures, split he bill, and go.

I said my goodbyes to those I wouldn't see that evening. Olya gave me several big hugs.

Some have already seen the tomb of St. James (Santiago)--others have not. I have no desire to see them, but I wait with Lainey in line anyway. As we're standing their, three Koreans (a dad and two daughters my age) get in line behind us and ask if it's the line fe the Compostela. Rather than give them dirrections that they may or may not understand with their limited English, I escort them all the way to the Pilgrim's office. They are very grateful.

Return to the plaza a fee minutes later and all my buds are no longer there. They must've changed their mind about the tomb and gone to check into their hostels.
I hang out in the luggage place for more coffee and wifi.
Julia shows up! Haven't seen her in several days. She will be busing to Finnestere, a small beach town that is an extended destination of the Camino, this evening. I get her number to connect her with Matt who will be taking the same bus tonight.
Matt shows up, too!
Introduce Matt to Julia and the three of us head outside to sit at a table in the patio square. Matt orders a beer and shares the potato chips that come with it as a tapa. Lainey and Chris show up suddenly, too. Just when they're thinking about ordering and hanging out, we hear a loud obnoxious noise blast over the huge monitors adjacent to our table.
Somehow I'd been oblivious to the huge convert stage that had been set-up. Some guy continued his mic test along with techno music. It sounded awful and loud.

We got up and left, as did the other tables around us. I need to make my way to the train station. We saw Denis just as we were leaving. Denis as we're leaving.
"Goodbye, Lysa," he says as he embraces me with a goodbye hug. "Didya here me?"
"Yes, goodbye Donald."
We both laugh.

They all walk me down the cobblestone streets to a smaller plaza where say our last goodbyes. Matt plans to visit Barcelona in a few days, so we say see ya later.
Lainey points out a big map mounted on the building we're standing next to so that I won't get lost again. It confuses me from the way I came last time, but I take note of where everything is on it.
We wave goodbye as I walk away.

I try in the direction the map had said. I should've taken a picture. Walk, walk, nothing familiar. Walk, walk. 10 minutes later, no sign of the train station.
I finally stop in a bar to ask for directions. Completely wrong way. I go all the way back to basically where I'd started and head down the hill. Time is running out. 14 min until departure. Am I going the right way now? I can't risk not. Stop in a shoe store to ask.
"Straight down," he directs.
"Thank you," I hurry out.
How far down? Man, time is running out. I start to jog with big ole Betsy wiggling side to side on my back.
There's the station. 5 minutes to departure. I J-walk big time through a round about. I make it into the station and out to the tracks. Check the board. My platform is across the tracks. How do I get across. I see no bridge. I consider climbing down into the tracks. Too risky. I could get escorted outta here and surely miss my train.
Stairs! Down the stairs. Betsy goes through the security conveyor belt. Up the stairs again. Platform. I made it.
Onto train with just two minutes to spare. Whew.
This train is the janky regional one. Straight outta Compton. I check my ticket. My next train that I'll switch to in a few hours will be a hotel train.

I blog on my phone the whole two hour ride. At the station a change at there's a 45 minute delay, so I grab some munchies from the vending machine and blog some more.
Once on the hotel train, I find my seat reclines. Nice. First class peeps get a cabin with a bed. Nicer. But this will be fine. I blog a little. A young mom with a Central American accent tried to soothe her crying 11-month-old to sleep. She's frustrated and doesn't know what else to do and sits down in the empty seat across the aisle from me. At a moment where she's given up on putting her to sleep (but little Sofia is no longer crying), I ask her where she's from.
Columbia. She moved to Spain for her master's degree, fell in love, married, and has been here seven years. I coaxed little Sofia over to me with colored pencils and my adult coloring book and helped her scribble. Then I just played with her and kept her happy while Carla took a few phone calls from family and her husband. Sofia started to get fussy again, so Carla took her back to their seats ahead to give her a bottle.
I blogged some more. My last days of the Camino I stopped blogging and just took a few minutes to outline so I could be more present in those last moments. Recording my whole day takes a lot of time, but I know future me will appreciate that I did. You're welcome future me.
The train had a bar, so I walked up through the cars to the bar, ordered a bocadillo with ham and cheese (he kindly heated it up for me), and took it back to my seat to eat.
The train attendant passed out complimentary water, eye masks, ear plug, and fleece blankets. The mask and blanket came very much in handy since they kept the lights on my side on all night. I tossed and turned, dreamed and thought, reminisced and expected.
Our train arrived into Barcelona an hour and a half late. I grabbed breakfast at McDonalds (which by the way is WAY better quality and classier in Europe). Took the metro to Licha and Edu's house on the outskirts of Barcelona. Their kindly letting me stay in their apartment while they're in the states, and in exchange they're using my car back home for some of their trip.

It's been so nice to rest, do laundry, get groceries, walk around in my underwear, pluck my brows, and just have some quiet reflection time since the Camino has ended.

I miss the friends I made, but I think it's still too soon for me to want to return to the Camino. If you asked me to go do it again right now, I'd politely decline. I will, however, do it again someday if God gives me the opportunity. No doubt. Hopefully along with someone.

But anyway. The Camino allowed for God to really work in my heart. It gave me space in brain and my soul to surrender my struggles with self-doubt to Him. It created in me a newfound carefree nature of sharing my convictions or beliefs in a healthy way (not adapting them to others' nor forcing them on anyone else). I learned about Catholicism, and hope to continue to learn more. The journey made me realize that I'm not a solo bird like I thought and that I really do want and need companionship in some form or another. The Camino let me put to the test a life of simplicity. I dig it. I prefer it, I think. Living with the bare essentials makes for an easy and appreciative life.
I even more feel propelled into my vision of living in service, compassion, and love toward others (especially after meeting Suzie and David and seeing them do just that). I also realize that even if I'm going after that vision, it doesn't make me any better than anyone else. Everyone has their place in this world. Everyone has their specific vision. I am just as mortal and vulnerable to death as anyone else. Life is life. The way I choose to live life doesn't change the nature of death. The way I choose to live life changes the nature of my life, and if I live it compassionately, the lives of others.
And lastly, Grace. Our Creator is abundantly giving and providing for us. Sometime we need to have next to nothing in order to take notice of all He does. I don't think I got to mention it, but for the second half of the Camino I was able to continue on comfortably because I received an unexpected check in the mail at home--apparently we overpaid one of my hospital bills with the settlement money that was delegated a few months ago--and my parents were able to deposit the check into my account. So, I mean, I experienced so many different forms and levels of God's Grace on the Camino. Grace in poverty, Grace in compassion, Grace in provision.

And pilgrims do. They say that the Camino provides what you need. Nah. The Camino doesn't deserve that kind of credit. The Camino provides a lens for us to see that God provides what you need. I shall keep this lens.

Thank you for coming along! You have no idea what an encouragement it was to see my view count go up every day on my blog. I hope you have been inspired by my encounter (just as I was by Licha's) to partake in the Camino yourself someday. I met pilgrims of all conditions, sizes, healths, ages, financial standpoints, religions, and smells taking part in walking this same path. But my Camino was not their Camino. And their Camino was not mine. Yet we have all been changed. There are countless ways to do the Camino. My hope is that you discover your way, that you make it out, so that you, too, can be changed for the better.