I’ve been thinking about the Camino a lot.
I am tempted to say, it’s abnormal how much I’ve been thinking about the Camino, but since the Camino is kind of an abnormal undertaking to begin with, who can say if the amount of afterthought is normal or not.
The point is, I’ve been thinking about the Camino. A lot.
I was at work the other day and overheard someone speaking in French. It reminded me of this French woman who stayed at the same alburgue in Murias de Rechivalda, and how she would say “Bonjour” to everyone with this really guttural sound, like she was trying to clear her throat or something. Bon-JHOUR!
Which reminded me that the day we stayed at Murias de Rechivalda is the day I was really sick with stomach cramps and couldn’t walk because the pain was so bad. So we stopped at this bar, and the bartendar knew a German Reike master, who came and took me to her office, and she proceeded to do some reflexology on my feet, which was much more painful than I could ever have imagined. At last she declared that I was “empty of energy” and needed to sleep, preferably in the sun. So, Ann and I found a park bench and slept in the sun for an hour before deciding to stay in Murias de Rechivalda.
Which then reminded me of the other park benches and picnic tables that I utilized along the Camino for a quick naps and rest during the day, and then I rememberd the picnic area just past Logrono, next to a lake. Despite the multitude of people out and about, enjoying the beautiful day, I had no problem falling fast asleep on a picnic bench, boots and socks off, resting my warm feet and body on the cool stone beneath.
That was the same day we ended up in Navarette. Navarette was a killer because the city is built on top of a hill, so after 13 miles on one of the hottest days in September, we found ourselves looking up at the town where we wanted to stay, facing who knows how many stone steps and a steep hill. And then when we finally arrived at the alburgue, the owner showed us to our room, which was on the top floor. As Ann and I dragged our hot, tired bodies up the three flights of steps, the owner kept saying “Courage!”
Which makes me think of the phrase pilgrims sometimes say to each other, “Ultreya!” Which means, Courage! Specifically, I think it means “courage from God”, but I could be wrong. (Don’t tell me if I am wrong though, because I like to think that’s what it means.)
Ultreya! is what got me through my Camino. Ultreya! is what gets me through life, through faith, through all of my unknowns. Ultreya! is what I wish for every person reading this… for every person who needs to know that they can face whatever is in front of them. COURAGE FROM GOD!
…Anyway, as I said, I think about the Camino a lot. I don’t know if it’s normal. I don’t really care. I love that hearing someone speaking French can lead me down a path of memories and thoughts so beautiful and bittersweet that it takes a deep breath and a shake of the head to remember where I am… what I’m doing… where I’m going.
I had no idea that the Camino would continue to affect me so deeply, and in such random ways. It has almost become a game at this point, wondering what random word, or a vaguely familiar looking person or scene, might next propel me down the Camino Memory Path once again.
Don’t get me wrong… I’m thoroughly grateful for it. I love all the crazy memories that pop up, just because I’m holding something like a hard boiled egg in my hand. Boiled egg in Spanish is huevos duros, by the way, and it reminds me of the time I took a half dozen to a fancy hotel restaurant in the town of Castrojeriz and asked them if they would boil them for me while I ate dinner there………………….
But that’s a story for another time. For now, I’ll leave you with, ULTREYA! Whatever you are facing, whatever is weighing you down, may the Courage from God see you through.
Peace,
Luci
