Waiting in JFK for my flight to CLE

 

A Pilgrims’ Memorial 

I’m not sure I can round out this trip with some kind of philosophical truism— Eat Pray Love this trip wasn’t. (Sorry; I only wish I had met Javier Bardem in one of my romantic Spanish hotels.)

Here are a few small wonders that fed my soul:

I’m sad to report that in the US, it is not necessarily a bad day that causes you to believe that everyone’s an asshole. (And I ran into a hellava German asshole in the Santiago train station when I was embarrassed and confused while my bag was flagged by security).

But on the whole, people in Spain were very kind. I was really moved when I was on the jetway to board my plane to Porto, and noticed my hiking boot had come untied. My 12 lb backpack still on my back (therefore making it unwise to bend over for fear of toppling over), I was sliding my back down the jetway wall to crouch and reach my shoes, when a lovely Spanish woman in her 40’s just reached down and tied my shoe. I suddenly felt as cared for as a small child. 

Spanish women offered these little intimate kindnesses to me often. It was like belonging to a secret society of older, wiser, women. 

The people on the Camino were mostly very kind. They offered “buen Camino” at every juncture, shared orange slices and olives, and asked, during my numerous interval-training rests, if I needed any help. Sometimes to rest, I had to sit on a rock that was too close to the ground for my knees to do the geometry to stand, and I would ask whoever came by next (man, woman, or teenager) for a boost up (hmmmm another kindness you’d do for a child). No one said no, though some people were better prepared for the weight of my body without leg support AND the added backpack weight). 

So that’s motto number one: No matter how many dickheads you may encounter, people, when given the chance, tend to be kind. I hope to stand by this. 

The second thing, though somewhat obvious, is that nature is restorative. We all know that, but us city dwellers in the snow belt (or am I only speaking for myself?) forego nature because it means a longish drive to a natural area or a crew of sled dogs. Now that I have my new two feet

(which have accessories for rain, snow, and rough terrain) I’m going to try to get out hiking more. 

Third, and most important, is that it’s not over til it’s over.  My friends, you know the last five years haven’t been easy for me. The fear and isolation of Covid for over a year, losing my father to the after effects of Covid and having to bury him mid-January before vaccinations were available (and all the distancing horror that ensued). Packing and selling his house with my sister. Having to completely re-vamp my teaching, first for Zoom classes, and later so my curriculum and the Department’s policies and procedures were a thoughtful reaction to BLM and the Me Too movements. 

Alphie

Then my knee replacement, which had me hobbling for a year. Then poor Alphie-dog dying so slowly and miserably right in front of my eyes. And then my father’s cat Bingo, whom I’d reluctantly adopted after Dad died, dying two weeks after sweet Alphie. 

Bingo

And then getting used to this huge transition of retirement. Not to mention buying a condo during that period and upending and moving my household. All this goes to say that life can be pretty hard sometimes, even when the easy stuff is going okay. And of course I’m a depressive, which adds its own black clouds to even sunny days. 

But the moments of joy: lying on a boardwalk near the Atlantic Ocean in Portugal to rest my lower back and having the surprise “hiya” of a passing dog licking my arm. 

The moments when my hotel rooms were revealed to me— so many of them were historical and beautiful. So different from what we are offered in the states. 

The pleasure of eating in restaurants proudly owned by individual families; the entire family chipping in to do the work, the waiters clearly proudly professional, the diners locals whom the family knew— all creating a happy camaraderie over busy tables. 

Friends, I wouldn’t blame you if you secretly looked at your partners when I declared I was walking the Camino and made “she’s crazy” eyes.  I chose to do it because I knew I needed a spiritual and physical challenge. I knew I needed to be physically stronger, and I wanted to be able to hike again. I knew I had to shake myself out of the fear mongering of both the President and the media. I needed to gather my inner strength so that if history takes us there, I’ll be able stand and fight the fascists, and not be terrorized by understandable (but not terribly helpful) fear. 

Also it’s hard to get old. It’s hard to have your body stop being as capable as it used to be.  It’s hard when steps into busses and SUV’s are too high up for your 5’1 body to manage without some kind of help. And it’s embarrassing to ask for help when you’ve been self-sufficient your whole life.  Many times on the Camino, as I painfully walked step by step, I quoted old Aesop, “slow and steady wins the race.”  And all the while, taking a cue from Javier Bardem’s character in Eat Pray Love, calling myself “darling,” and “lovely” with every self-encouragement: (“Just a little hill lovely girl,” “You’ve got this, darling”); a practice I started a few years ago to eradicate self-loathing self-talk.

I can’t do much about getting old (except hope for the grace to get older). But this trip taught me some things  about determination and taking things one step at a time.  Setting my sights on obtainable goals, even if everyone else has different goals. Listening to my body and acting on what it tells me, even if it’s not what I’d hoped to accomplish that particular day. 

And yes, I had a couple of personal discoveries along the way, that could be called “spiritual” if you like. Nothing like a vision. Just a couple of hard truths, calling on me to shed ancient hopes that realistically will not become a reality in my lifetime, unless the Universe steps in.  And I need to leave that power to the Universe, and free myself of the life-long weight of trying to make them happen. 

So that is what I have to share of my Camino, lovelies. 

Buen Camino to you all