Santiago whirlwind

Since I just got an email from a friend asking if I am ok, I thought I'd update to say I'm done and home.

Last Tuesday, the 14th, Paco arrived in Ponte Ulla in late afternoon.  I took him back a few km on the Camino into Ponte Ulla, so he could see a bit of the terrain I had covered that day.  We met an elderly couple (he, 88, she 83) who at 5:30 were still working in the same garden where I had seen them about five hours earlier.  We stopped and talked, and when I can get my camera pictures on the computer, I'll add a picture.  The man had had several serious health problems but assured me that the best therapy is working in the garden.  The woman told us she was from the little town where we were standing, but that her husband came from far away -- turns out he was from a village about 15 km to the east.  They told us about their life, their families, and how they roll with the punches that mother nature throws their way.  Because there has been no rain for more than two months, this year's harvest looks grim.  They were trimming their potatoes and getting them ready to harvest, but were not looking forward to a good yield.  A good dinner of pimientos de padron (those little green peppers  that are so yummy) and pulpo (just a few bites for me, I can't take a lot of octopus), and then off to bed.

On Wednesday, no need to rush since we were only 20 km from Santiago.  The first four km are uphill, to Outeiro, home of the last albergue on this route.  The hospitalera was there cleaning, and she was very happy to chat (saying she remembered me, since I've been there three times before) and show Paco around.  Paco has never stayed in an albergue and was a very inquisitive observer of this camino stuff.  It was so interesting hearing his observations and insights -- yes, he's right, we camino addicts are a bit freaky, but in a good (usually) way.  We had a great walk in, with the sobering moments a few km outside of Santiago when we crossed the railroad tracks at the point where the train had gone off the tracks a few years ago.  Many personal memorials were a sharp reminder of the randomness of tragedy, and it seems there has been no resolution of the many pending complaints and lawsuits.

Once in Santiago, we headed for the pilgrims office, where Paco watched me stand in line to get my compostela (I've lost count).  Three or four people behind the counter recognized me from my volunteer stint last May, and it was like a big homecoming.  They are such great people, I would love to do it again.  Then we had a meeting with Lee (we walked together from Montserrat till my knee gave out), who had found and adopted a dog, and off she went to Najera, where she is now a hospitalera for two weeks.

The rest of the time is kind of a blur.  Walks around, some shopping for olive oil and saffron and a few other things, seeing a few more friends, eating a good goodbye meal.  Then Thursday morning, at 7:30, I hopped into a cab (first time ever that I didn't take the bus!!!) to the airport and began what turned out to be a 25 hour trip home.  Lots of delays, but no real problems.

Now I'm home, jetlagged, trying to go through the piles on my desks at home and in the office. My knee is still not in perfect shape, lots of clicking, so I will be heading to my favorite physical therapist soon.  The Camino seems so distant, as it always does, but soon when the rush of immediate tasks is done I'll have time to sit and look back and put the pieces together.  And start thinking about next year's camino!