To My Unborn Son

 28 January, 2022

Hi Son,

I'm missing you. I have not even met you face-to-face, and yet I miss you. I spent twenty minutes this morning watching you wiggle around on the ultrasound while I could feel you stretching your legs and arms. You're a strong little dude. You wiggle a lot, but I love it because it reminds me how close you are to me, even though you feel yet days away (as you are). Today marks you growing inside me for seven months. It's been awful at times, to be honest, but I’ve known you are worth all the discomforts and pains. 

Your father loves you so much already. He gives you lots of kisses through my belly, and talks about you a lot. Mostly about wanting to share his favorite foods with you--eating is very important to your father, you will come to find. I hope to raise you to be a gentle, kind man like your father. 

Sure, I wonder what you’ll look like and what features you’ll bear of your father and I, but I also wonder what you’ll like. What will you enjoy? What will fascinate you? What will you be passionate about? What values will you develop? These are the questions that keep me up some nights.

I love you deeply. Look forward to getting to love you tangibly very soon.

With eternal love,

Your mother

Bisbee

I've been in Bisbee for 10 months and 15 days now.
What a ride so far.

August
My biggest concern was finding a job. God guided me to find two! I worked as a soccer referee for the fall season (including refereeing a tournament in Tucson). I applied for a job at the local hospital, but turned it down due to the incompatibility of the hours with my school schedule. I was hired as hostess in Bisbee instead, which proved to be even more advantageous in becoming part of the community. I was able to get to know K and A and their family very well during this month, as I didn't know them all too well before moving here.

September
My biggest concerns were finding a different place to live and starting out my classes on the right foot. Classes went very well the month of September, and by mid-month I was able to find an apartment in Sierra Vista to move into the following month. In the church I began accompanying K in singing and ukulele for worship. I started soccer referring, which was challenging and didn't seem worth it. Refereed my first soccer tournament in Tucson.

October
My biggest concern was studying well enough for my tests and passing my first final with a decent grade. I moved into my studio apartment in Sierra Vista and was ecstatic about having my very own home. At the end of this month I would be trained as a server, so learning the menu also became a great concern for me.

November
My biggest concern was having time to prepare for Good News Club that would be initiating. K and I would be at both the Elementary School and the Middle School for a few hours every week teaching the kiddos who would attend our clubs about the love of Jesus. I grew to deeply love and care for our five kids who would come. Often times during this month, I was so busy between work (3 jobs), school, church, and clubs that I would just sob from anxiety commuting back and forth between Bisbee and SV. I had my first-ever anxiety attack--gave up coffee for a few days to avoid a repeat. I was able to surprise family on a trip home for Thanksgiving, which was much-needed.

December
My biggest concern was getting passing grades (B's and A's) in my very difficult courses. By the grace of God, I did. After completing the semester, I was able to focus much better on becoming a better server and better-preparing clubs. We were able to take our kiddos to the movies as a reward for memorizing four memory verses in just a month. So proud. I started babysitting a sweet little girl named Carmen. I went home for Christmas (planned/expected).

January
God blessed me with two new friendships. Months prior being so busy with all my responsibilities (especially school) I had grown very lonely. K and I have grown a lot closer since August, but it has also been nice to have two new peer friends. I was cross-trained over at Santiago's Mexican (at first reluctantly--later happily).

February
My biggest concern was preparing a women's Bible study that K and A asked me to lead. We settled on Monday mornings and decided to make it public. It has continued to be such a blessing as women from the community have joined us as well. We are growing together as we go through the book of James. Friendships with both M, E, and K were/are serving different but wonderful purposes in my life.

March
My biggest concern was being better about preparing GNC and the women's Bible study. It started to become more clear that I did not want to stay in Sierra Vista, but move closer to Bisbee. Internal conflicts began happening for me that took a toll on my mental health. We opened a third GNC in a Boys and Girls Club in Bisbee (this is a miraculous answer to prayer, as they'd been denied access all years prior). My lease in Sierra Vista ended, and I moved back into the trailer on A and K's property by the end of the month.

April
At the beginning of the month I was getting used to being back in the trailer, later on I housesat for R and S. During that time, I let a gal from church who suddenly needed a place to stay use the trailer. In the meantime I moved my belongings into a domesticated shipping container on A and K's property. Internal conflicts continued back and forth--much mental suffering. GNC came to a close for the summer for the schools. I took the nursing program entrance exam (which I'd been studying for) and, by the grace of God, passed.

May
Took a trip to Philly for a beautiful wedding for an even more beautiful friend. I turned 26 and spent the day touring Philly museums with one of my best friends and her fiance. I fell in love with Philly--hope to live there for a stint one day. GNC at BNG came to a close for the summer. I surprised my mom for Mother's Day! Had a great time in CA. Upon my return, I housesat for two different families, which was perfect as the gal from church was still needing the trailer. Internal conflicts reached an apex, but I was able to talk it out with someone and was completely restored to prime mental health post-conversation. Biggest concerns during this month were finances (since I took a lot of time off work), mental health, and finding a place to live in Bisbee.


TBC...

1:50am on the 26th of May

It is early on a Saturday morning and my brain is wide awake. Two weeks ago I surprised my family by showing up to California. Mom was the most surprised. It was a wonderful week of loving on some of my friends and family with some quality time. Busy and fruitful.
Where I am living now has been discouraging lately. Mostly just not feeling fulfilled by my activities as I was before (as most of the ones that fulfilled have come to a pause during this season).
Nor is my living situation ideal at this time. I am fortunate that God has placed a handful of people in my life even in this far-from-home place who love and care about me. He has also provided (including through these people) opportunities that have been in such perfect timing; from my view they can only be defined as being divine.

My friendships are becoming more meaningful at this stage in my life. I am having to draw on them--both near and far--a lot to keep in good spirits.

The process of growth is taxing--the friends I choose are not, but rather refreshing rain water that is also required for the growth to continue.

Cacti, Mud, and Rattle Snakes

I hate that shovel now. Every time I walk past it my stomach twirls into a tight knot and I smell it again. I never knew before that snakes had a scent, but they do. I'm not sure if it's their venom or the oils in their scales, but it's distinct, piquant, and makes me want to vomit. Not that it's a particularly repulsive smell in itself. I would have never even noticed it as extraordinary from the other aromas of the desert prior. But now, for me, it's the smell of murder. It's the smell that goes along with the struggle and rush I felt as I used all the weight and muscle force I could muster in my body to drive the shovel into the neck of that abdomen-slithering being. It's the fear that seeped from its eyes and fangs as it struggled to simultaneously escape from my death hold and catch its breath. It didn't succeed in either. 

It didn't get to breathe life any longer. With gritted teeth and a sweaty brow, I took that right away. Although my motives were just by human standards, by serpentine regime I selfishly assassinated the innocent. And I'm torn on how I feel about that. I'm torn like the cervical flesh of my victim.

And will his ghost get its revenge? Or his brother? I carefully examine my steps just in case, and in the dark I carry a flashlight. Sometimes the beams of light illuminate the shadows of the side of the shed. And I see it. I hate that shovel now.

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.

Day 33: San Marcos, Monte do Gozo

Alarm went off at 4:40. Awoke as Chris a Lainey were getting ready to take their things downstairs at 5:07. I did the same. This was the hardest morning to get up on.
Literal thought that occurred to me in these wee hours of the morn: "I don't really need to make it to Santiago. I've come this far, and that could be enough. Maybe I can take a bus later to a train station and just go back to Barcelona today. That way I could sleep for a few hours more."
Ha. Sleepy Lynda ready to throw the 465 miles she's already walked out the window. Of a train.
Luckily I got out of my funk with a few crackers with peach jam.
Off we went. In the dark. Not the best place to have a keen sense of smell. Stinky city smells. The sidewalk we followed eventually became a street, which became a gravel road, which became a dirt path in the country. You subconsciously walk a little faster in the dark. Instinct I suppose. A lot of pilgrims on the path even at this early hour before dawn. We pass through a tunnel. Flashlight definitely required.
I began to lose the group. Mostly because I was feeling hot and sweaty in all my layers. Even without the sun, it was warming up quickly. Beamed my flashlight at my feet as I walked along the path through the navy blue tinted forest.

As the sun begins to rise, I start to notice our surroundings more. We walk past lots of farms in the region of Galicia. Some with cows. Some with sheep that have tails (which I've only ever seen here). Lots of corn. The sun exposes the overcast sky with its thick, fluffy clouds. Maybe we didn't need to start so early afterall.

We stop at a clean, cheap, and nice cafetería. I get a coffee, a chocolate napolitano, a banana, and a white chocolate to share later.
Half way into breakfast, Stanley and big David show up. I take the opportunity to apologize to Stanley in person for unintentionally ignoring his questions the night before. He pats my shoulder to assure me there are no hard feelings.

Lainey cleans up our table and takes in our dishes (this is a thoughtful gesture she demonstrates everywhere we go) and we continue on.
Not even a half hour after, I realize I need a restroom, so I stop at the next bar cafe and insist the others go on for me to catch up to.

Near most bar/cafe restaurants are signs posted "Customers only". I tend to take it as a suggestion rather than a mandate when it comes to emergency situations.

Donkey! As I was heading down the path looking for my three peeps, I spotted a donkey in the path up ahead. Tied to a tree by a tent. First thing's first, scratch him behind the ears and give "Rocinante" (as his description sign said he was called) lots of love. There was a stamp and a shell to leave a donation in (so he and his owner could continue traveling). I bent down to take care of those two things as a man approached.
"How much is it?"
"It's a donation," I replied as I stamped my credencial.
"Can you stamp my credencial?"
"Sure."
"How long have you had him?"
"Oh, he's not mine. I'm just stamping my credencial. I'll stamp yours, too."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought he was your donkey."
I smiled. He asked me to take hos picture with Rocinante (named after Don Quixote character) and he did the same for me. Then I continued to scratch "my" donkey behind the ears before I continued on.


I reached a bar where I spied my buds hailing me over from where they were seated at an outdoor patio in the dead grass.
After I grabbed a seat, I took out my uke to practice Brand New Key by Melanie. Every since I played it for Chris and Lainey, we've been randomly breaking into the chorus. That and "I've found you Miss Magoo" (a unique YouTube girl's rendition of "Miss New Booty").
The Slovenian couple and the gal from New Jersey that I've seen almost every other day came and sat at our neighboring table. There was a Slovenian flag hanging from the window of the bar, which they were stoked about. Jersey gal ordered a grilled cheese. It looked perfect. I would order one later, I decided.

Before we headed on, I went inside for a stamp. I want to fill as many stamps in my credencial as I can before reaching Santiago. From the hundred mark you need at least two a day.
The bar is covered in sharpie and pen graffiti all over the walls. It's become part of the decor. T-shirts pilgrims have signed and left are hanging from the ceiling giving the bar a snuggly ambiance.

The Slovenian couple and Jersey gal leave with us at the same time. A town we will be approaching soon is called Santa Irene. Which makes me think of the song Come On Eileen because Lainey and I sang it a few weeks back. I play it out loud on my phone. Lainey and Chris break into a cute complimentary dance as they walk, Matt and I bust little moves, and we can hear Mrs. Slovenia and Ms. Jersey laughing behind us. I stop to take a picture of the sheep with the tails while the music is still going and Lainey waits for me. We catch up behind the group with the song still going. Mrs. Slovenia and Ms. Jersey start dancing and singing along. It's the perfect pilgrim moment. And best enjoyed on the day before arriving to Santiago.

We are so excited about arriving that we don't even have conversations anymore. We're in this constant soberly wasted state where our appendages flail at random, we trip over pebbles, and the only words that come out of our mouths are movie and video quotes and songs that have no relevance to anything going on around us. Poor Matt, being Canadian, only gets about 5/8 of the pop culture references Lainey, Chris, and I make. He's a patient guy.

We stop at a bar for a pee-er and a shoe changer in our group. A dog (dachshund-mix) comes up to us for pets and Chris begins to serenade him with the ukelele and a personalized... I mean caninalized song for the pooch. I catch on and we sing it together in nasally voices (or "dog voices", as Chris calls them). Like I said, soberly wasted.

We stop for lunch at a bar and I order a grilled cheese (like I knew I would) and coffee. I check my email and my school in Madrid is demanding I pay my first semester today. I spend an hour switching money around accounts and wire services all over weak wifi. Finally it's done. My buds were kind enough to wait around for me while I got that all taken care of.

The Camino takes us through a beautiful forest of crooked trees. They tower over us. Extra-terrestrial almost.

We stop at a fancy restaurant patio where we see Stanley and big David were sitting at. The menu was expensive. We just ordered coffee and a coffee liquor to try aa we occupied tgeir table for an hour or so. We split crackers and nuts amongst us. I had hazelnuts left over from Gaspar, so I divided them amongst us and we cracked them with rocks as we walked.

We walked past the airport and down a hill to another overpriced bar. We only ordered icecream and fruit so we could use the restroom (customers only...). Most of us took off our shoes and socks to air them out. Although we had been blessed with an overcast day for most of it, the sun was not out and sweaty socks means blisters. I lied on the asphalt ground, exhausted and dreading the 10km we still had left.

David, Denis, and Olya caught up to us at that bar, and we all continued on together. This time they had a friend with them. A flirty, abrasive Italian wearing nothing but his shoes, pack, and girls' jogging shorts. No thanks, Tom Hanks. We have to leave because the owner is kicking us out as he puts away the patio table. He's not all too nice about it. It's whatever.

Stop at a fountain, as we usually do when we see one. I pick up a balloon that was left on the ground nearby, put it over the faucet to fill it, but it leaks from small holes. I make a joke at the level of a 13-year-old-boy. We keep walking.

I walk ahead with Chris and Matt because I don't want to be around Signore BootyShorts. We get way ahead of the group.
A Toyota pulls up with a car full of people. A man peeks his head out to as inquire of where we'd walked from today. None of us remembered the name of the city we had slept in just 12 hours prior. He rolled off.

Stopped at a shaded park and waited for the rest of the group.

Matt and David sing a Spice Girls song together. David literally finishes the song word for word. Davidis 20-years-old (the baby of our group) is in seminary to be a Catholic priest. And donmt let that age fool you. He's a knowledgable guy and has an opinion ready to lay on the table for just about anything. David is a self-proclaimed "dad" (maybe also reputation-proclaimed) due to his "dad" jokes and mannerisms. This is ironic because as long as he continues on the road to Catholic priesthood, he will never be permitted to marry or have children of his own. I was completely ignorant to this commitment in the Catholic religion prior to the Camino. As far as I knew, the Pope's wife lived with her handmaids in the Vatican. Shows you how much I know.

After a big stretch up a hill, a kilometer before our destination for the night, we stop for snacks. I was so hungry, but the kitchen was basically closed or out of everything. An orange and a peach juice will suffice for now. There are various ducks, chickens, geese, and peacocks roaming around this particular spot for unknown reasons.

We continue on and make it to the small town of San Marcos at Monte do Gozo where we will spend the night before our big descent into the city of Santiago de Compostela tomorrow morning (less than an hour walk to the Cathedral from where we are now). We plan on sleeping in the grass under the starsZ already a couple dozen pilgrims have their bags set up in the grassy yard by the church. They'd showered off in the spigot of the church. One girl was completely topless as she'd just washed off and was changing into a cleaner shirt. Not even five seconds after her shirt was on, did Signore BootyShorts make his sleazy way over to spit game with this chick whose tits he just saw. Turns out she was from Barcelona, so it totally makes sense that she'd not be concerned about being topless for a brief moment. Topless beaches are a thing in Barcelona anyway. But this guy... Sheesh.

I make my way up the small hill toward a 50ish foot modern monument pertaining to the pilgrimage. It had shoes and notes and pilgrim forgettens hanging from it or lying at the foot of it. Along the Camino on almost every monument, placard, fence, anything, you will find pilgrim boots, cards, notes, or just garbage made to look intentionally left for sentimental reasons.

From the monument I have a better look of the city ahead in the distance: Santiago. We'd get there tomorrow morning. It was so strange seeing the end in literal sight.

We all congregate back down by the small church. Some of us will go to 7pm mass, others will not. David shares some magnesium lime-flavored tablets with Lainey and I that we let foam in our mouth like candy.

I'm hungry again, so I begin to walk in the direction of the bar. Lainey, Chris, and Matt follow. We use Matt's GPS to navigate in a general dirrection, ask a local, and make it through the suburban neighborhood (Chris said it looked straight out of California--I would say the O.C. to be more specific), and made it to the covered patio of the only bar in San Marcos.

Our waitress is patient, kind, and helpful. We order raciones (appetizers) to share: fries, pan-fried pimienta peppers, chef salad, croquetas (deep-fried mashed potato balls), fried calamari, pork ribs, and octopus. The octopus was SO good. It was Matt's suggestion since he was the only one who'd ever had octopus. I had low-expectations for both taste and texture. I can honestly say it was my favorite appetizer we had. The region of Galica is known for it's pulpo (octoupus), so maybe that had some influence. Cooked to perfection. Everything was. And it was fun sharing all the food.
We split a few cakes for dessert just as Olya, Denis, and David arrived. They started ordering at their own table. They'd gone to the mass and then checked into the 500 bed albergue that turns out is donativo. Since it was overcast most of the day, we decide to check-in their, too, rather than sleep on the grass outside. We pay and make our way up, across, and down the hill to the huge, modern, multi-building albergue. The polish gals get us checked-in and show us to our beds and point out the facilities.
I get my bag organized, shower, and get to bed. Tonight has a different feel. The air feels stiff, rather than eager. I'm sure we're all appreciative to have come to the end, but at the same time we're dreading the goodbyes.
I'm physically, mentally, and spiritually ready to be done. I'm socially just getting comfortable. And now that I'm comfortable it's going to be over. I don't want to think about it. I roll-over.

Day 32: San Xulian, Melide, and Arzúa

4:45. Dark. Very dark. I grab my pack and tiptoe down the squeaky, wooden steps in the darkness. Ready to go.
Breakfast was already set-up for us on the long, rustic table. We turned on the coffee maker. There were six of us awake and only 4 mugs. Strange. I ate my cereal and milk in my mug (took a little of each of the three cereals), washed it out in the bathroom, coffee and milk, and then washed it out again for the next person to use. Toast and jam. Matt, Lainey, and Chris were just getting started on breakfast, so I started down the road 0.7km to the hostel in Airexe to use the wifi. There were yellow lampposts that glowed over the road for most of it. The second half of the solo walk, I used my little, temperamental, LED flashlight.

After ten minutes, I saw Chris and Lainey coming up the road in the dark. Matt came and joined us a few minutes later. We walked silently under the moonlit sky.

Lainey and I both shared later that we noticed an intensity in our senses of smell and hearing. Our eyes couldn't see much. We tried to keep our flashlights off and rely on the moon (especially since it was just road). The trees put off fruity scents. Plum and flowers. Some cow poop aroma, but that's normal now.

Another scent that's become normal...? My flatulence. Ever since Leon when my colitis went really bad all of the sudden, I've had issues. I'm notorious (or more like infamous) in my family for having fatal gas. Since I've grown to appreciate these Camino friends I'm walking with, I'd hate to see them die on the account of my bodily functions, so I try my best to remove myself from the group/walk behind them when I'm feeling particularly gassy. I've been pretty open with Chris and Lainey about this. Matt's new to the group and I've only known him a few hours really, so early this morning when my intestines were being testy (ha!), I slowly started lagging behind the three of them.

Chris looks back, "Oh, I see what's up," he says with a grin. I smirk back.
A few minutes later Matt looks behind and sees my distance, "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I yawn back. "Just trying to keep your morning pleasant," I think at him.

We walked until a little after daybreak and before we stopped for breakfast at a small albergue/cafe in San Xulian where Olya, Dennis, and David had stayed. I used the restroom and chuckled when I saw the bathroom gender indicators: the two drawings--one of the cartoon naked woman and the other a cartoon naked man both standing in front of the mirror in a bathroom. They're adorable. I made sure to let the owner know I appreciated them since he gave me a funny look when I came back from the restroom, grabbed my phone, and returned to the restroom. Silly Americans.

We continued on and the crowds started to get more dense. There's a large group of high schoolers from Mexico that we keep trying to get ahead of because they take up most of the path. Easily identifiable by their matching neon t-shirts with "MÉXICO" printed on the sleeve. Another novel Camino change since Sarria is thr distinction between the two types of pilgrims we now see. There are pilgrims like me who started in Astorga and beyond (which puts them at 200+km) and have a full pack (25-80+ liters) they're carrying or sending ahead via taxi. The second type of pilgrims started in Sarria and are only doing the minimum  of 100k to get a compostella. They carry small daypacks (less than five pounds of weight) and smell really nice.

We stopped at a stand for some fruit that we shared between us. Cherries, plums, and nectarines. The elderly owner was a sweet hunched over gal who was eager to sell us everything in the store.

We continued walking briskly through the forest of eucalyptus and pines.
Finally arrived to the city of Melide.
Just as we're walking in, we spot Olya, David, and Dennis up ahead. Chris and I sneak up on them and walk silently behind them before Olya turns around surprised and they greet us.

Our group is reconnected for a few minutes until half of us hit up the grocery store. I have to pee. I ask around for a bathroom, but it's not open to the public. I'm out of cash and need to pee, and to use a bar bathroom I need to buy something first. So ATM. The first one I find has an outrageous fee for my card, so I jet down the street to the next one. Cash out, jog to the bar next door. It's empty except for the bartender gal that comes in from smoking a cigarette on the back patio.
"I'll use the restroom and then come back to get something." Made it.

Come back down and order a chocolate napolitano (first of the day). What is that I see?? A menu with blended coffee drinks?? I inquire. She only has the fruit smoothies on the menu. Bummer. I take my napolitano and go.

I start heading down the street I assume to be the Camino expecting that the rest of the group would have gone on their way by now. A half a kilometer down past the buildings and pharmacy and I see no more yellow arrows nor sign of my buddies. Hmm. I turn around and head back. I spy other pilgrims turning a corner, as I'm waiting at a crosswalk near the city center I spot Chris (because he's 6'1" and wearing a hat). I wave at the group and receive happy waves back. They'd waited for me at the grocery store for a bit before asking the ladies from Ashland to let me know they went on. So sweet.

We continued on. At the exit of Melide was a church where we found the rest of the group hanging out. I munched a few cookies from the pilgrim table outside the church. Usually I would've left a donation, but the volunteer was loudly talking on his phone the whole time we were there, so I didn't feel inclined.

We started out all walking together, but due to different paces, got separated. I walked alone for a bit when a pilgrim startled me by coming up quickly from behind to ask about my uke hanging from my pack. He walked so fast! He was interesting to talk to, so I tried to keep up without turning my powerwalk into a slow jog. He is on the Camino with family and friends and had just a small daypack since he's only walking the minimum 100km. He is around 18 and from Valencia, Spain and studied his whole academic career thusfar in an English immersion school here in Spain. Although he had an accent, his grammar was perfect. We discussed mostly politics. He asked me about Trump (ha, as do all Europeans) and then he filled me in on the corruption of Spanish politics.
I spotted Lainey and Chris at the bar we approached, so I bid him adieu.

Lainey and I checked menu prices and then decided to continue on to find a place for lunch. Matt caught up to us and the four of us stopped at a bar where Chris and I shared the best grilled chicken sandwich I have ever had. We've been tired of Spanish bar food, so this was a pleasant surprise.

We had offered the three others have lunch with us, but they opted to continue on a few more kilometers before stopping.

We wrapped up our lunch and continued walking and searching for the other half of our group and where they'd stopped for lunch. Found them on a hillside patio at a country bar famous for its award-wining cheese. Lainey and I shared our sample plate we ordered with the group and we took a poll of which cheese was best.
1 Sheep
2 Sheep-Cow (winner)
3 Cow

Pepe and Pascual were chatting eith some pilgrim gals in the table next to us. As I passed them by the two began to serenade me in unison--as usual this past week--to some Spanish song that mentions my name as an adjective. I blush every time. They eat it up.

As we continue on to the next town, Chris and I stop with Lainey as she switched out her shoes for sandals for this final stretch. The rest continue on. A few minutes later as we get up the hill, we spot Matt who directs us in a shortcut that saves us about 0.5km walk. Score.

We reach the first albergue in the next town that has over 100 beds and is cheap. We have been up to our ojos in bar food and are ready for something new. Chris and Lainey had bought fajita mix at the store. So a kitchen and proper kitchen equipment was a must for tonight. This albergue had a beautiful kitchen, but not even a spoon was it equipped with. Onward to the next town 3.5km away.

We arrive in the city of Arzúa and check the first albergue we see for a kitchen. Yes kitchen (and well-equipped), but only 4 beds left. Probably not gonna work.

Chris jets up ahead down the city street and finds the other half of our group all planted on the cement sidewalk in front of an albergue trying to check maps and guidebooks on where to stay. We get to them and plop our bags and butts on the ground with them.

Lainey and I offer to walk down a ways to the tourist information center to see about the Xunta and a city map. We walk three blocks and stand under the sign, but as we peer through the large glass windows we see to pretty girls our age with white scrubs on. Is this it?? We walk in not knowing what to expect.
"We're looking for the tourist center...?"
"This is it," one of them starkly responds.
"Oh, we thought it was a massage parlor."
"It's both," the other answers.
They give us a map, circle and draw some redundant lines, and superficially wish us well as we open the door to leave.

As we head back, we inquire in a few different albergues for a kitchen. One that I enter alone has no recepcionist, so I just snoop on my own. Suddenly a man appears rushing down the stairs to the receptionist desk.
"Tell me," he barks before he reaches the desk.
"Do you have a kitchen?"
"Nope just a microwave," he doesn't even look at me.
"Okay, thanks," I said much too sweetly.

We all continued to sit on the sidewalk in the shade of the multi-story building as we half-hazardly  discussed where to stay the night together. We unanimously indifferently settled on the hostel we'd been sitting in the shade of the past 45 minutes. One by one we take the receptionist our ID's, credenciales, and euros. We head upstairs to settle our belongings near our designated bunks.

First, I sat on the cold ground for five minutes just staring at the wall. I was incredibly tired. Not really sleepy, I didn't think--just tired. The two accessible showers were being occupied, so I my shower stuff out of my pack and placed it all on my bed ready to go.

Two older ladies came disgruntled and impatient into the room and headed straight for the shower doors that they knocked on a few too many times with their towels and soap in hand. I wasn't about to MMA them for a shower, so I just laid on my bed to wait. Which inadvertently (yet inevitably) turned into a two hour nap.

I woke up around 7:30 to two empty showers. As I took of my socks, I noticed my ankles had some heat rash around them again. Not as bad as before. Wool socks in the mid-summer sun isn't the way to go I guess.

I did my thing--no laundry today--and then headed downstairs to find my buds. Matt, Chris, and Lainey were in the kitchen cooking up fajitas and rice.
I helped with some dishes. Whilst scrubbing, Stanley walked in while Lainey and I were having a discussion about the absence of dish soap. Stanley was asking about the others and the church location, and we were too absorbed in our preoccupations and offended him for not responding to his questions. He left in a flury. I felt so bad. I'd apologize later.
Matt and I set the dinner table. This kitchen was ample with dishes and utensils. The table looked great.

I put myself to coloring while I waited for them to wrap up cooking the rice. While coloring, a gal walked by and opened up the floor-length curtains of the wall-sized windows that overlooked the street and bars below. At first she apologized, but I assured her it was more than okay. The light was nice.
She started asking me about my Spanish and was impressed. I asked her about what she did for a living. When I found out she lived in Madrid, I confessed that I was moving there in September. She froze.
"Are you serious? This is perfect. Will you be my English professor? I'll pay you whatever you want. You're a native speaker, right? Oh my gosh, I've been wanting to get an English professor!"
María jotted down her number as we discussed expectations on both our parts. We are both hopeful for this potential, mutual benefit.

Foods on the table. Our group sits down to eat. Fajitas, AVOCADO, rice, cheap beer, and white wine. All shared with the faces of the souls I've grown to love these past 450 miles. We pass around the Oreos and white chocolate that Lainey picked out for us for dinner. All perfect.

Olya leaves to go see Stanley at the bar. I ask her to apologize to him for what happened earlier on my behalf, still feeling remorse over it.

As the group chats, I excuse myself to call my mama. We chat a bit and then lose connection since the wifi can be sticky.

Time for bed. I try to be quiet as I brush my teeth and then climb into my top bunk above David's. Tomorrow Lainey, Chris, Matt, and I plan to get up and leave before 5:30am like we did this morning to best the heat and the crowds we're expecting.