religion Archives - Nadine Walks

Today is National Coffee Day, and as I sit here in my apartment, listening to the rain, I think about all that great coffee I drank in Spain. And that gets me thinking about the Camino, and the walking and the people and the food and the conversation and all of the things that I miss. So here are a few things that come to mind:

1. Giving myself permission to drink as much coffee and wine as I liked.

Was there anything better than multiple café con leches or the 1-euro glass of (really, really good) wine? Sometimes an entire bottle of wine was only 2 euros. I could sit and drink coffee and write in my journal, I could sit and sip wine and talk with new friends, and I could do this every single day.

2. Spending my days outside.

It just felt so healthy: the cool, fresh air of the morning. The sunshine on the back of my legs. Walking through forests and vineyards and mountains. The sound of the wind blowing through a field of wheat.

3. The moment just after I finished doing my laundry.

One day I was hand washing my socks and underwear and t-shirt, and I turned to the person next to me and said, “This is my favorite part of the day!” This person stared at me and responded with, “Doing laundry? Are you crazy?”

“No,” I explained. “Just after this. When everything is finished. After those first kilometers when you haven’t had coffee, and the last kilometers when your legs feel like lead. After finding an albergue and showering and charging your phone and washing your clothes. Just after it’s all done, that feeling of complete relaxation and open time. You’ve done all of your work for the day, and it’s 2:00pm and you can eat and drink and meet up with friends or just do nothing. That’s my favorite time.”

4. An open church.

It was so easy for me to get caught up in all of the other stuff on the Camino: the physical aches and pains of the walking, the socialization and new friends, the changing Spanish countryside, the language and the culture, the nagging thoughts in my head. But when I passed a church, it was nearly always a reminder that I was on an ancient pilgrimage route. The churches connected me to a sense of the history of the Camino, and to my own personal pilgrimage.

When passing a church I usually tried to open the door to see if it was unlocked, and often it wasn’t. But that made the time when I could find an open church pretty special. I loved the little chapels, especially. So small and simple, with tiny details and still spaces. I loved when I could stand alone in an empty church- stand at the back and look up towards the altar, close my eyes and say a little prayer- and then quietly continue on my way. It always brought me a strong sense of peace.

5. A top bunk by an open window.

By the middle of my Camino, I started to get used to sleeping on the top bunk. I think my ratio of top to bottom bunks was 8:1, and at first this seemed like bad luck. But eventually I found my upside: sleeping by an open window. Sometimes this was purely chance. But whenever I got to an albergue on the early side and could choose a bed, I’d opt for a top bunk if there was a window close by. These were some of my best nights of sleep, when I could bundle into my sleeping bag, sometimes with a wool blanket stretched across the bed, and feel the cool night air blow in through the window. In one albergue I had a view of stars and a nearly full moon. In another, I could hear distant howling (and the next day someone mentioned that there were wolves in the hills, could this be true?)

6. Those hilariously delirious moments when you’ve simply been walking too long.

I think everyone had them. I kind of hope that everyone had them, and it wasn’t just me. Because usually by the last few hours of a really long, hot day, I could get a bit loopy. Once, I was walking with my friend Mirra and I looked ahead and exclaimed, “Look! A horse!” There was no horse. It was just another pilgrim, walking along.

There may or may not have been a time when I was walking alone down the very long, very straight, old Roman road under a very hot sun, looked around to make sure no one was within earshot, and shouted out, “Caesar!!” Just because he also walked down this road, a long time ago, and it seemed like I should somehow acknowledge it.

And there was definitely a time when I sang American Pie over and over and over because it was my 7th hour of walking on a hot day when I had lost my earbuds and all I wanted to do was listen to music. “Drove my chevy to the levee but the levee was dryyyyy…”

Caesar!!

7. Waking up every day and feeling like anything was possible.

I know that some people got a bit bogged down in the routine of the Camino, but for me, I felt like every day was full of possibility and surprises. This feeling increased after I lost my guidebook; I didn’t always know what the terrain would be like, if I would have to climb big hills, if I would pass through large towns. Where would I get my coffee? Who would I run into? Where would I stay at night? Would I make a new friend, would I have an inspiring conversation? Would I see a castle or a cathedral or a field of sunflowers or a long line of cows? When else in life do you get to ask yourself these kinds of questions?

Sometimes I forget that the Camino de Santiago is a pilgrimage.

I know that it’s a pilgrimage, of course. When I tell people what I’m doing this summer, most have never heard of the Camino, so understandably they have lots of questions. I always start by explaining that it’s a pilgrimage route to Santiago that was popular in the Middle Ages. Sometimes I mention that many believe the remains of St James are buried at the site of the cathedral. But mostly I talk about the walk: how far it is and where I’ll stay, what I’ll eat and what I’ll wear. Always, I answer questions about going alone.

All of that has kind of been my focus, as well. The length of the walk and my gear and my training and the logistics.

Sometimes I forget how this all started.

A lot of people (though not the majority) still walk the Camino for religious reasons: to make a pilgrimage to the burial site of St James, one of the 12 Apostles. James spent time in Spain, preaching the Gospel, and legend has it that after his death (beheaded by King Herod in 44 AD, the first Apostle to be martyred), his body was carried on a boat steered by angels, and landed on the coast of Galicia, near Finisterre. His body was then carried inland to where it was buried, forgotten until the 9th century when a hermit was led by a vision to the site of the grave. A chapel was built over the remains, James became the patron saint of (what would become) Spain, word got out, and people began walking. Eventually a cathedral was built in place of the chapel, and more and more people walked the Camino de Santiago- The Way of St James.

The pilgrimage was in its heyday in the 12th century; the guidebook in those days was the Codex Calixtinus, pilgrims wore a scallop shell (the symbol of St James) to gain free meals and to sleep in churches. They walked for a penance; to be forgiven for their sins. And they walked because they were believers.

I didn’t decide to walk the Camino de Santiago because I wanted to make a pilgrimage. I have other reasons (start here). But in walking the Camino de Santiago, I will make a pilgrimage. I will have a destination, and I will have a goal. When I arrive in Santiago, I will enter the cathedral and touch the statue of St. James, where a groove has been left in the stone from the hands of millions of pilgrims.

I think this will be a powerful experience.

This past weekend, I celebrated Easter with my family. I grew up going to an Eastern Orthodox church, and as a kid, I developed a strong faith and belief in God. But my faith has always been very personal to me. At some points in my life I have attended church regularly, and at other times, only on major religious holidays.

On Saturday night, as I stood in a darkened church with candlelight slowly spreading through the congregation, I thought about the miracle of Jesus’ Resurrection. I thought about my family and the traditions of our faith at this time of the year. Of helping my mom bake 12 loaves of pascha bread in tin coffee cans, of the basket of meats and eggs and cheeses that we bring to church to be blessed, of standing in a pew with my father on Good Friday, singing the Lamentations.

And I thought about the Camino. I thought about my own faith, and wondered how much of a part it would play in my journey this summer.

And I have no idea. I can’t predict what kind of meaning this entire experience will have for me. I’m not doing this long walk for religious reasons- it’s for my own personal, spiritual journey- but I can’t say that religion will have no part in this.

I’m excited to pass through small villages and to peer inside churches. I’m excited to learn more about the history of this path, and I can’t wait to stand before the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela and to know that I’ve made a pilgrimage.

Endless coffee, top bunks, and delirium; 7 things I miss about the Camino

Making a pilgrimage.

Inspiration

Camino Packing List