The Arrival (emails from abroad)

Hey there! (this is a long one, but hope its worth it)

I have been hesitant to send this email until today, and I didn't quite know why. I officially arrived (hiking) to Santiago today after unofficially (on the bus) seeing the city last night. That night I saw the direct blessings of God in my life in very physical forms with, as cheesy as it sounds, a well-timed laser light and sound show that reflected off the cathedral in celebration of the ever flowing incoming stream of pilgrims into the city. It also began to lightly rain, a blessing of immeasurable proportions.

I need to explain the rain thing. It tends to rain a lot in this northern region of Spain, and before I left I received more than a few warnings to expect some miserable, soaked days of walking. Most of you know that weather affects my mood tremendously, moreso than most, and I held two major prayers for physical blessings on this pilgrimage: dry weather and not having shin-split pain. Yesterday, after 20 days of walking over 500kms of northern mountainous country, was the first time I saw even a drop of rain, and also the first time I felt the need to ice my shins. And I had already arrived at my destination. As simple as these things are, I have little choice but to see them as inconceivable coincidences. Thus, I consider them blessings.

Then, today, I arrived to the culmination of my pilgrimage, receiving my official pilgrim degree (in Latin) and a complimentary pass out of purgatory (a. I'm not kidding, this is for real, b. I passed the pardoning on to my mother, who, after 5 years if she's still there, deserves the "get out of purgatory free" card).

But the arrival somehow felt empty, lonely all of a sudden, lonely for pretty much the first time on my journey. The day was the first overcast day I have seen in weeks, and my body didn't react well to the sudden change, as much as I realize how blest I was. After wandering the city for a little while, I made my way to the Cathedral, the focal point for all pilgrims, dedicated more to St. James (Santiago) than to Jesus.

This brings me to a point have been struggling with for the last week or so, which are all the "tourist pilgrims," that have hopped on the end of the route, doing the last 100km that is necessary to be able to say you did the Camino. I have seen the level of respect plummet, and the level of litter climb, and I have had to focus much more on really making my spiritual journey happen. Perhaps this was a good way to get readjusted to the "real" world that I hope to bring my lessons back to, but it has none the less been a struggle to watch the Spaniards show up, bring the party along, and secularize their own pilgrimage.

So, when I approached the Cathedral, I was not surprised to feel inundated with the Tourist Trap-ish-ness of it. Vendors everywhere, little old-bitties gabbing all over the church, and I told more than a few gentlemen to kindly remove their hats. All the while, people are pushing each other to kneel down in front of St. James (I wont get into the sacrilegious sentiment I feel about that). I prepared myself for another hopelessly sad and spiritually empty Spanish mass.

It was however, not. In a spiritual reminder of the awesome Church community I have waiting for me back home, this mass included some music (rare), a fairly moving sermon (rare), and a giant, circus-like incense burner that they swung from one end of the church to another (pretty uncommon...). But above all, I arrived.

I arrived at the Eucharist. For whatever reason, I found the Eucharist at this mass so incredibly powerful and filling that I began weeping uncontrollably. As I took the host and tears streamed down my face, I finally felt like my journey was done. My destination was not Santiago, it was that under-celebrated union with Christ, the Eucharist. The change in my emotion was simply amazing. I had finally arrived. And it has been a long journey.

On a less serious note, I have a list of fun observations below, everyone of them applicable and very true. Should be amusing (or maybe my sense of humor is just getting twisted). I am state-side a week from now. I am so extremely excited by that, and I hope to see you all soon. And to the 60 of you who have emailed me recently, maybe I will be a good friend and get back to you soon.

All my love and prayers,
Christian

Signs that you have been walking alone too long:
.--a breakfast of a multivitamin, 3 ibuprofen and an allergy pill seems "well balanced." Add some sort of caffeine (cafe, cola or chocolate) and you are golden.
--you start to see a day with no mountains to climb as "just not challenging enough."
--You don't realize you are wearing a red shirt, 2 red bandanas, a red side-bag (purse), and a giant red backpack until a bull starts charging towards you from across a field.
-you start to think up dance tunes to the squeaking of your backpack.
--you walk 50k in one day, just because you can.
--you start to read "non-potable water" as "slim chance of tapeworms," and you drink away.
--talking to yourself becomes so normal, waiters ask if they should put down another table setting.
--you actually look forward to the timed freezing/tepid shower that awaits you at the dorm each night.
--the swarm of flies surrounding you serve as the only reminder that you haven't braved that freezing shower in three days.--you have grown so accustomed to falling asleep to 4-5 people snoring rhythmically around you, that it is now a necessity.
--the mandatory 10pm bedtime just "seems to make sense.
--instead of getting enraged at the German guy who inevitably turns on the light at 5am to get ready, you join him for an early morning.
--you get righteous about all those sensible enough to ship their bags ahead or bike from town to town. I mean, what wimps!
--you start to think that walking with a large red exterior-frame backpack from the 1970s is a reasonable form of transportation.

for those of you who have read this far, thanks for accompanying me on this journey. See you soon!

Poppies, Puppies or Poopies, this scenery is gorgeous! (emails from abroad)

Hello there my dear friends!

Today is a bit of my day off, taking time to rest and do laundry after a long stretch of pilgrimaging. I really dont know how to start to communicate this spiritual journey with you all. But here goes nothing (be sure this will be a long one).

I started this trip last Sunday in Pamplona, and since then have been waking every day sometime between 3:30 and 6:30 am to walk between 30-40 Km during 8 hours per day. The actual walking has been simply amazing, and I have seen country-side and scenry that simply takes your breath away. During these long days, I think about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness (seriously) and do a ton of praying over my not-so-distant post-college direction. I have also met many many people who are doing the pilgrimage for various reasons from all different countries.

Among the many anecdotes I have had on this adventure so far, would be with one of the other pilgrims I met along the way. I walked with Nikolai, a charming French man, for about a day and as we were trekking through farm country dotted with small red flowers, he comments on its beauty. "All these puppies really brighten up these endless fields," he said in his rather excellent english. I was puzzled... "Oh, you mean the pOppies?" He responded, "Oh sure, the pOOpies." I then explained the difference between the three and we had a good laugh.

Since I dont have enough words to properly describe the scenery, nor enough film to capture it, I think I will describe the spectical that I have become, evolving this last week into a hard-core hiker. When I managed to "accidentally" walk 42 Km a couple days ago, and didnt think much of it, I knew that I had hit a certain stride. Right now I am sporting 7 "little friends," otherwise known as painful blisters on either end of my feet. There are all sorts of tricks of the trade that involve a little self-surgery to help these friends on their way, so I find them survivable, if a little bit of a pain.

But the bigger problem has been the sun. I have been blessed with incredible weather, but that can often come with a scorching sun. I am working on a rather significant farmer's tan. Since I walk pretty continually to the south-west of the country, the left side of my body gets the worst of it, so I have taken to slanting the bill of my Marquette hat (now very faded) to the side to better shield my face, I wear a red bandana around my upper arm, and have two black wrist-bands wrapped around my knuckles. Add to that the fact that I low-ride my pants so that my pack wont rest directly on my belt line, and I look like an Emenem fan who is a bit lost.

I also carry a long walking stick that is forked at the end, sport the half-clam shell that is the sign of the Camino, and of course have sewn Dorey, my wonderful stufed traveling companion, to the top of my pack so she looks over my right shoulder. Needless to say, I am quite the site to behold striding into the little villages I pass through.

So, I am sitting now in Leon, with about 10 more days of walking left. I want you to know that you are all in my daily prayers, and I ask that you keep me in yours. This journey can be tough. I have been able to see the many many blessings in my life, and my big dilemna is what exactly I am going to do in my life to make a dent in repayment for those blessings.

That is my journey. Life is a pilgrimage. God bless you on yours!
Yours,
Christian

(19 days till State-side!)