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Nadine Walks

stories of trekking and travel

Quiet and Free (and a monastery); Day 16 on the Camino del Norte, Celorio to San Esteban de Leces

July 7, 2015

Today also didn’t quite go as planned, and I find myself in an albergue on top of a hill, next to an old church, in a “town” that’s not really a town- just a few buildings that are so still and quiet they could almost be abandoned.

In fact, I didn’t realize the albergue was the albergue until I walked up and down the street and saw two guys on bikes pull up in front of it and ring the doorbell. It’s a large, rectangular building; a woman opened a window upstairs and shouted down to us. Inside there is a long, quiet hallway, a small kitchen, a coffee machine (yes!!), and a few rooms with bunk beds. In the back is a yard enclosed by a thick brick wall, and if you stand up on the slope of the hill, just out of the albergue, you can see out to the sea.

Right now I’m the only girl here. This came in handy earlier when I took a shower; the bathroom has two toilets behind locked doors, but otherwise an open space with sinks and two showers. But bathroom privacy aside, I feel a little lost from everyone that I know- two days ago I walked a longer stage and sort of got away from a big group of familiar people and now, suddenly, I’m in this eerily quiet albergue with 6 other people I’ve never seen before.

Maybe it will change tomorrow in Sebrayo, the last stopping point before the Primitivo/Norte split. Or, perhaps, my separation a few days ago means it was the last time I’ll see the people who had become my friends here.

I was thinking about this a bit today, as I walked: how others have formed little groups, how they’ve found their people to stick together with, how they travel together even though they came alone. So many people do the Camino this way, but like last year- and even more so this year- I’m going my own way. And I’m happy that I’m walking in this way, even if I’m sitting here, now, sort of wishing there was someone familiar to talk to. I feel such great freedom when I walk, and lately my walking days have just been so good. But also, I’m seeking that balance, wanting some company in the evenings and wishing that I had a little group who would magically appear in the same albergues as me. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t.

My plan had been to stop at Casa Belen for the night, about 13 kilometers back. It’s another albergue I had heard wonderful things about: a couple who have opened their home to pilgrims, offering beds on a donation basis, cooking a communal meal for dinner. When I walked by this afternoon, it was barely 1:00, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I lingered in the yard of the property and one of the owners came out. She told me to sit for awhile and rest, and decide if I wanted to stay or not.

And it was a tough decision. The property was beautiful, with tables and lounge chairs in the back, a view of the mountains from the yard, a small shed which had been turned into a “chapel”, lots of flowers and a garden and a few chickens and a white cat. I sat, ate some cheese and a few cherries, and tried to figure out what to do.

The house was practically in the middle of nowhere; there was no town nearby, no bar or restaurant, no little grocery shop. It was only 1:00 and not another pilgrim was in sight. I’d been feeling really strong on my walk, and wishing that Casa Belen were at least 10 kilometers down the road; I wanted to keep walking.

So I listened to that urge, because it’s what I’m here to do. I kept walking. It makes what was going to be another nearly 40 kilometer day tomorrow only 25 or so, which is very do-able and probably more practical. And the place I’m staying in now is decent- nothing outstanding, but nothing I can complain about (the hospitalera will order food for us from a menu and then the nearest bar, which is about 3 kilometers away, will deliver it here tonight. But there’s also a small kitchen, so if pilgrims have food with them, they can cook).

On my walk today I was also thinking about how the people I’m with on this pilgrimage changes a bit, every few days. First it was Elissa, then it was Richard and Iria and Amy, then it was Nicole, then an evening with Carlos and Guillemette, then a few days with Jenna. There were a few days I ran into the Austrians, and also a few days with a kind German couple. And for the last few days, I’ve felt like I’ve been on my own.

I think this variety has been good for me, and in some ways it’s what I might have sort of asked the Camino for: practice being with lots of different people, practice being on my own. Practice being comfortable with it all. I’m getting better at it, I think; it’s easier, maybe even easier than last year, to walk up to someone and start to talk. And it’s been easier for me to feel more open to the possibility of making new friends, every day. It’s also been easier to accept the times that I’m on my own. After a day and evening pretty much on my own yesterday, I’m ready for some company today. I don’t have it right now, but being alone is okay too.

So, those thoughts aside, lets talk about the walk today: it was another good one. The first 5 kilometers were a bit tough because they were done without coffee, and it still amazes me how different I feel once I have that first cup in the morning. I had been dragging myself along, each step feeling sort of heavy, and then I drank a small-ish cup of coffee and suddenly I was flying down the road, smiling, happy, awake and alive.

I passed an old abandoned monastery that used to house pilgrims, probably hundreds of years ago. It was a 5 minute walk from a small beach and right along the Camino route; tucked away just a bit in a large clearing at the base of a mountain. I walked around the crumbling buildings and tried to imagine what it looked like before it was abandoned, I tried to imagine what it would look like if it could be fixed up.

And then I started to dream, that I could buy this old monastery and live there, open up part as an albergue, run a writer’s/artist’s retreat in another part. There would be room for a large garden and fruit trees, long outdoor tables, benches under the large trees.

So check back with me in 5 years or so (or 10 years, or 20 years), and maybe I’ll be running an albergue in a monastery in Spain.

On the beach, a few minute’s walk from this monastery, I found another piece of sea glass, this one a deep emerald green, one of the most beautiful colored pieces I’ve ever found. A coffee by the beach, a walk surrounded by open green fields, a warm sun with a cool breeze; it was another beautiful day.

          

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Leave a Comment / Filed In: Camino de Santiago, Camino del Norte, Travel
Tagged: beach, Camino de Santiago, camino del norte, dreedom, happiness, life, pilgrage, sea glass, Spain, travel, walking

One Year Later

January 12, 2015

This new year kind of crept up on me. I guess being in Italy and attempting to navigate an unclear friendship/relationship didn’t give me much room to do my normal ‘end of one year, beginning of another year’ reflections.

I still haven’t really given it much thought, except to say this: It feels good to be in 2015.

2014 was an up and down year. The words that come to mind when I think about last January are ‘cold’ and ‘quiet’. I started this blog, and wrote about taking a single step towards… something. My serious relationship had just ended, I didn’t know what direction my life would be taking, and I had no idea what to do to move my life in any direction. So I began to dream about the Camino, and of how alluring it would be to simply follow arrows for a long, long time. Move myself in a physical direction, and determine the figurative one along the way.

Neighborhood Snow
cafe writing
2014 snow

The first half of 2014 was filled with preparing for the Camino. Did I do anything else? Maybe, but all I can remember is spending hours on my computer, researching gear and reading blogs. Of walking in endless small circles on an indoor track at the Y, and later walking in loops through a park. Multiple trips to REI, Amazon boxes delivered weekly to my doorstep.

Early spring hike, PA
Camino guide

And then the summer came around and I was on the Camino, and I was finally moving. It was beyond what I expected, and I’m still processing that walk, still kindling the flame of energy that it gave me, still working on how to continue “walking” the Camino in my every day life.

Leaving on a Jet Plane
Walking through the Pyrenees, Camino de Santiago

In the months since returning from the Camino I’ve been a bit restless. I’m home, I’m back into my routines, but I’m anxious to figure out the next steps in my life. That feeling continued straight up until the end of the year, right up until I left for Italy.

Since returning? I’m sure it’s too soon to tell, but it feels good to have just returned from a trip. It feels good to be in a new year. It feels like I’m ready to start moving again.

Road Trip, USA

 

This year feels like an open book, like I could take it anywhere I want to. Soon I will start to fill in the images of what this year will look like, but right now the pages are blank. The only thing I see are possibilities, but nothing certain. Will this be the year that I finally start to write the book that I’ve been dreaming about writing? Will it be the year that I switch jobs? Will it be the year that I move out of my apartment? Will it be the year that I walk another Camino? Go back to France for another writer’s retreat? Do a US cross-country road trip? Will it be the year that I go on lots of dates? The year that I meet someone to settle down with? The year that I make a dozen new friends? Where will my travels take me this year? Where will I go?

Last year, as 2013 changed to 2014, I was in my best friend’s apartment. I was in a daze, trying as hard as I could to be happy, but struggling. We watched a marathon of Harry Potter movies and as we toasted the New Year with a glass of champagne, I remember thinking, “In 2014, I want to feel alive.”

And as 2014 changed to 2015, I was in the Piazza San Marco in Venice, with a man at my side, a plastic cup of wine in my hand, thousands of people packed in around me, and fireworks exploding overhead.

Alive.

So here we go, another year, an open book. This blog started as a place to write about my Camino, but I think it was really a place to write about my life. So have no fear, the blogging will continue. Thanks for reading and following along, I hope I can continue to share some good stories with you this year.

Leave a Comment / Filed In: Camino de Santiago, Inspiration, Writing
Tagged: alive, Camino de Santiago, dreams, goals, happiness, Italy, life, love, New Year's, New Year's Eve, preparation, resolutions, road trips, Spain, travel

Camino Lesson #1: Be here, now.

October 23, 2014

Fall, as a season, is a transition. It’s warmth to cold, sunshine to darkness, long days to short. In the past five years it’s been a strange kind of season for me; it’s either been the start of a slide into something not so great, or else the beginning of something new and wonderful. It’s like my life transitions coincide with this season. The days change, and so do the circumstances of my life.

Two years ago I was in the beautiful beginnings of a new love, and life was great. Fall was great, because life was great. I was enjoying the season, but I was also full of the feeling of change. I was so focused on where my life was moving and how to get there, always thinking about the future: about the next trip to Vermont to see my boyfriend, about his next visit to see me, about the next year and whether I would still be living in my apartment, about searching through craigslist and monster.com for new jobs.

A year later my relationship was falling apart (or, it had already fallen apart, but I was still holding on as tightly as I could), and fall was practically nonexistent. I didn’t want to see the changing leaves, I didn’t want to enjoy the pumpkin-flavored-everything, I just wanted to figure out how to make my relationship work, and how to be happy in my partnership again. I constantly thought about the past and what had gone wrong, and I kept looking to a point in the future, when I would feel better and when things would work out.

This fall? I’m trying to be here, now. I think I only really started trying in the past couple of weeks, and in a way, I’m amazed that it took me so long to practice this Camino lesson: don’t dwell in the past or the future, but just enjoy where you are.

I’ve always known that this is a valuable life lesson, but it’s a tough one to put into practice. On the Camino, it was almost effortless. There was so much going on, so much change every day, so much to engage your senses that it was almost impossible (for me, at least), to focus my mind on what had happened the day before, or what would happen tomorrow. And it was a strange practice for me, to not be constantly reflecting on what I had experienced, or preparing for what was to come. I was just letting things be- doing my best to process stuff through blog and journal writing- but otherwise just letting it be.

And it was a wonderful lesson for me to put into practice. Being present made me so happy: when I walked, sometimes I had a smile glued to my face because of the beauty and wonder of where I was and what I was doing. I’ve written about leaving my guidebook behind (and the lost guidebook ties into several Camino lessons for me), but it helped with the act of staying present: I didn’t read about what was going to happen in the future. For the most part, I stopped planning. I just woke up each day and I walked. I didn’t know who I would see or where I would stay, and it was an incredible and freeing feeling.

But when I came home, I got a bit stuck in the past and the future again. Missing my Camino, thinking about it and reflecting on it, going through my photos, even reading my own blog posts to try to get back to that time. And I’ve been very preoccupied about my future, about figuring out what my next step is, about whether I want to make a change, about how to know what is right for me.

It’s important to remember the past and to prepare for the future- what would life be like if we didn’t do either?- but it’s also extremely valuable to sometimes just let it go, and be in the moment. To just enjoy where you are.

So this fall, maybe it will end up being a time of transition for me, but I can’t know that right now. Right now, I’m in my kitchen, and I just pulled a warm loaf of pumpkin bread from the oven. I’m listening to XPN’s 885 Greatest Songs of All Time countdown (which is simply wonderful, right now ‘Wouldn’t it Be Nice‘ by the Beach Boys is playing, and just before was a long jazz number from Miles Davis). I’m noticing the changing leaves and the cooler air as I walk in loops through my neighborhood. I’m cooking foods like chili and butternut squash soup. This weekend, I’m going camping with two of my closest friends.

The last two weeks have been a great time, and I wonder if it’s because I’ve been trying to just be in my days, and to enjoy them as much as I can. I know that I’m going to continue to miss things from my past, and that I’m going to be a bit anxious about figuring out my future, but I’m trying to give those feelings a time and a place. And then I’m moving on… to now, to this beautiful fall season.

Ridley Creek State Park, October 2014

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Tagged: autumn, being present, Camino de Santiago, fall, future, happiness, hiking, journey, life, life lessons, past, pumpkin, travel, walking

To stay or not to stay; alone and together, Day 20 on the Camino: La Virgen Del Camino to Villares de Orbigo

July 16, 2014

I have a ‘note’ in my phone of things that I’ve jotted down since starting the Camino. Advice from others, tips on albergues, song and movie recommendations, etc. I just glanced at it and at some point I’d written: ‘Leon- DON’T stay at the monastery’.

Guess where I stayed in Leon two nights ago?

It could have been worse, but it was the second night in a row of not great accommodations. Hot, crowded, not super clean. But the shower pressure was great and they provided breakfast so I really can’t complain. And this is what I’ve learned when it comes to albergues and towns on the Camino: it’s all hit or miss. Sometimes I’m going to stumble on an amazing place or stay in an amazing town, and sometimes I’m going to stay in some real dives. But especially as I’ve let go of planning, I’m realizing that I just need to take what comes: the good, and the bad.

And really, the bad isn’t so bad. My Camino continues to be pretty amazing, and I’m still not sure how I’ve gotten so lucky. I want to believe that some of it is my outlook (today’s walk was super hot, next to a busy road for just about the entire 30k; I tried to find the alternate, scenic route but somehow was fed back to the main road, and at some point I lost my headphones. And my feet hurt more than they ever have, I think because it’s been so hot and they started to swell. But sitting here, settled into an albergue, drinking a glass of red wine with lemonade (it’s delicious!), I’m feeling good, despite the sub-par day). So some of it is my outlook, but some of it is just pure luck. My body is holding up, my spirits are holding up, and I’ve met the best people. I’m lucky.

Getting through the Meseta, and coming in and out of Leon, presented some challenges. And some were challenges that I hadn’t been expecting. I came into this walk knowing that I was walking alone, and the more I walked, the happier I was that I was here alone. Mirra and I paired up, and I think we were a great match for each other: we usually walked separately, and I think always felt that we could each go off and do our own thing when we wanted or needed to.

After Mirra left I was looking forward to truly walking some of this Camino on my own, but then I met some new people, and one in particular who I liked being around. In Leon I was faced with a decision: continue on by myself and do my own walk, or stay with someone and no longer have a solo Camino.

Maybe the decision never had to be so black and white, and maybe the decision I made- to continue on my own- will change and evolve as I keep walking. Maybe I will meet my friend at some point on the way, or at the end, and I will want to make a different decision. But for now, what has felt right, is to go off on my own for awhile.

Trying to figure all of this out- the social part of the Camino and the friendships and the connections and the hellos and goodbyes- has probably been the most challenging part for me. In real life, I don’t meet people like I do here. Every day, on the Camino, I have so many conversations, sit with so many different people and have coffee, or lunch, or wine, or ice cream. And I’ve loved this part so much. So much more than I expected.

And if I’m not careful, this Camino could turn into one big party. It would be so easy to stick with the people I’ve gotten to know, to always have meals with them and drink bottles of wine, and walk and listen to music and sing and dance. And there’s some appeal in that- a lot of appeal.

But I’ve realized that I’m not just here to meet people and have fun. That part has been important, and I think I’ve done a stellar job of it. But I’m here for something a bit more, and now is the time to figure some of that out.

So today I walked very much alone. I’d stayed at an albergue just on the outskirts of Leon last night, and I expected to now know many people there but it turned out that so many of my favorite people were there (this happens a lot). But it was also just what I needed: to make a big salad and share with a few people I’d gotten to know, but weren’t close with. To sit after dinner and play cards with the four Italians I always see in the mornings when we all stop for coffee. To stay up with Laura, the 12 year old Italian girl, and Nolan, the 10 year old Vermont boy, and have them show me card tricks.

Today’s walk was challenging, but overall I was happy that I made the decision to be on my own. I stopped for coffee, I stopped for ice cream, I stopped to put my feet in a cold river and eat tuna and cheese and cherries. Since I lost my headphones I sang to myself- long songs, like American Pie and Thunder Road.

I passed through a tiny town and wasn’t sure if I should stop or continue on for another 15 kilometers, and then I saw the albergue. A yellow building with painted blue shutters. I glanced in through the open door and I swear I saw a little paradise, and then I was convinced of it when I walked in further. This is the most beautiful albergue I’ve stayed in: a small courtyard in the middle of the building, a wrap around porch on the second floor with wooden chairs and an old couch and pots of bright red flowers. My room is beautiful, with wooden floors and large French windows that open up to the main village street. The bathrooms are modern, there is a small kitchen, and I was offered coffee when I checked in. Perfect.

And for tonight, this is just what I needed, and what I’ve been craving. A beautiful, peaceful place where I don’t know anyone too well. Time to sit by myself and write. Sitting here at the village’s only bar, drinking wine and lemonade, with two Germans at the table with me. Sometimes we talk, sometimes they talk and I write. It’s easy and relaxed, and always a reminder that even when I choose to be alone, I’m never really alone. But for now, alone in the way that I want to be alone.

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Next Post: Day 21 on the Camino Frances

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Tagged: alone, Camino de Santiago, connection, happiness, hiking, loss, pilgrimage, relationships, Spain, travel, walking

Welcome! I’m Nadine: a traveler, a pilgrim, a walker, a writer, a coffee drinker. This is where I share my stories, my thoughts and my walks. I hope you enjoy the site!
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