I find myself in Logroño, city of candy stores. A girl needs her gummi bears. There are those among you who would criticize my consumption of such refined sugar on this arduous physical journey (you know who you are), and to you I say this:
Gummi. Bears.
The last few days have been hard. These are tough roads out here in the farmland at the edge of Navarre, sun-scorched and rocky. Not much shade at all. I ended up sitting under almond tree for a few minutes - a welcome surprise on that stretch of the camino, but still sunnier than I would have liked. The albergue I found last night had a foot bath. It was freezing cold, but still a beautiful sensation after the heat of the day and the strain of the walk. Now in Logroño, I've left the Navarre hills for the vineyards of La Rioja. Adios to Hemingway's beloved. We'll always have Pamplona.
Nightly I dream of my comfy black Walmart sweatpants. I miss them. Pajamas here are the same as the clothes we walk in. When I get home I am going to have a long soak in a bathtub, I shall only wear sweatpants and my Lord of the Rings T-shirt (or my Star Wars one), and I will never walk anywhere again.
I still have almost 400 miles to go. If I already never want to walk again, how am I going to feel in June?
I've been thinking about pilgrimage. Is a pilgrimage necessarily religious, or can you have a secular pilgrimage, for the self rather than for some higher power? (My guidebook, the most popular one on Amazon and the one every English speaker seems to have, is annoyingly preachy and more than a little precious when it comes to "the mystical path". "Will we notice the bumblebees on this path to Christ?" The saccharine nature of the writing is something that irritates me on a daily basis.) I am not a Christian. I have attended Mass, I have prayed - I find it helps as a form of focused meditation. Today in some little cathedral I prayed at an altar for Mary Magdalene, who I find fascinating and relatable. I see these characters as (historical) figures with a reputation and a history worth considering - but I'm not out here to walk to God. The search for purpose has been bothering me a little, but a friend reminded me that this journey doesn't have to be life-altering, and while reflection is good, "it can take away from the present". That, I think, is what I want to get out of this journey more than anything else: a mindful, intentional knowledge of who I am and an ability to be present. I can think of no better way for me to accomplish that than this grueling walk.
May your blisters always be the right color (mine are a little alarming),
Gummi. Bears.
The last few days have been hard. These are tough roads out here in the farmland at the edge of Navarre, sun-scorched and rocky. Not much shade at all. I ended up sitting under almond tree for a few minutes - a welcome surprise on that stretch of the camino, but still sunnier than I would have liked. The albergue I found last night had a foot bath. It was freezing cold, but still a beautiful sensation after the heat of the day and the strain of the walk. Now in Logroño, I've left the Navarre hills for the vineyards of La Rioja. Adios to Hemingway's beloved. We'll always have Pamplona.
Nightly I dream of my comfy black Walmart sweatpants. I miss them. Pajamas here are the same as the clothes we walk in. When I get home I am going to have a long soak in a bathtub, I shall only wear sweatpants and my Lord of the Rings T-shirt (or my Star Wars one), and I will never walk anywhere again.
I still have almost 400 miles to go. If I already never want to walk again, how am I going to feel in June?
I've been thinking about pilgrimage. Is a pilgrimage necessarily religious, or can you have a secular pilgrimage, for the self rather than for some higher power? (My guidebook, the most popular one on Amazon and the one every English speaker seems to have, is annoyingly preachy and more than a little precious when it comes to "the mystical path". "Will we notice the bumblebees on this path to Christ?" The saccharine nature of the writing is something that irritates me on a daily basis.) I am not a Christian. I have attended Mass, I have prayed - I find it helps as a form of focused meditation. Today in some little cathedral I prayed at an altar for Mary Magdalene, who I find fascinating and relatable. I see these characters as (historical) figures with a reputation and a history worth considering - but I'm not out here to walk to God. The search for purpose has been bothering me a little, but a friend reminded me that this journey doesn't have to be life-altering, and while reflection is good, "it can take away from the present". That, I think, is what I want to get out of this journey more than anything else: a mindful, intentional knowledge of who I am and an ability to be present. I can think of no better way for me to accomplish that than this grueling walk.
May your blisters always be the right color (mine are a little alarming),
Sam
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