Slowing down to Santiago

Porto Despite fears that today might in fact be one day too long, it has in fact been a good day, one that got off to a promising start when I realised that Portugal and Spain don't keep the same time.  Not that my body clock noticed as it still seeming to think I need to be awake at 6am, but it was a chance to go down to the banks of the Douro and wish some of those setting out early on the Portuguese Coastal Camino a blessed experience, the initial route from Porto Cathedral passing alongside the river. And after a breakfast in the hostel that would not have been out of place on a cruise ship, I did what my body has done for the past 30 days; I walked the initial 7km of that particular journey to Foz do Douro. A glutton for punishment or unable to let the opportunity go...you decide. Again it was one that brought back memories of my time here with TOM, when we took a ride out on the tram and a slow meander back. At the moment I have escaped the heat of midday within the ...

  Santiago to Porto It's official. I am done. Physically, mentally, emotionally. So much so that I forgot to post my entry for coming into Santiago so you might have to back track a day...sorry. Yesterday I had a farewell lunch with Robert, Bryant, Matt, Eric and Dimitri, and then in the evening I said hello and waved goodbye to Ernesto, Stefano and several of their friends through another meal facilitated by Google Translate. That's it I thought, camino complete. Then this morning I discovered Dimitri in staying in the same hostel as me so we chatted over breakfast. In Praca de Obradoiro, where I had 40 mins or so listening to some 'tunes' as today's first wave of pilgrims arrived, I ran into Ashley, one of the American group, I had walked alongside on the Primitivo.  Then at the bus station who should be there but Bryant and Matt on their way to Finisterre, so there was time was quick last hug. And not to be left out of the act, I hadn't even got on m...

  Santiago  If the word for yesterday was muted, today is has been waves. Waves of emotion that hit me hard almost as soon as I awoke. So much so that to my surprise I found myself trying to write this in cathedral square or Praza do Obradoiro, to give it is proper title, through a veil of tears. There has been waves of happiness at seeing familiar faces from others parts of the caminos arrive in the city...Robert back from his solitary night at Mont Gozo, Luka, Ernesto and Stefano from the del Norte, Paul and Catherine, plus the American group including Donna. Waves of nostalgia for what these past 30 days and 750 plus km have meant. Waves of pride picking up my Compostella certificates. Waves of grace as I received communion (I figured having walked 460 miles I was 'catholic' enough). Waves of transcendence watching the Botafumerio swing high into the vaulted ceiling of the cathedral. Waves of missing TOM.  And there was wave after wave of different Camino families that...

O Pedrosa to Santiago de Compostella 19km After unquestionably the worst nights sleep of the entire Camino, due to a gaggle of Spanish 'Glamettes' sat talking underneath the window to the dorm, it was an even earlier start today, with me out on the road to meet Bryant at 4.45am.  The last days walk into Santiago, a 19km stretch, is not known for its beauty or scenic sights and so the idea was to just get into the city as early as possible. And whilst part of me doesn't want this adventure to end, another part of me knows it's coming to an end and so just wants it finished. After all no matter how enjoyable it's been, and it has been fantastic, 30 days is a long time to walk every day. Due to the pre dawn departure the first 90 minutes or so was along torch lit forest trails, with the barking of chained up dogs, chorus of birds, sounds of Korean tourists being dragged into the undergrowth and savaged by wild animals and the thundering footsteps of Eric (who was t...