Those who regularly follow my blog know I rarely venture into political commentary, as that field is overgrown with poisonous weeds and nasty critters. Sometimes, stuff happens that you just can’t ignore; this is one of those times.
The current US administration policy requiring the separation of illegal migrant children from their parents–for whatever reason–is an abomination. The DHS Secretary and others claim that this is simply the inevitable result of a series of court findings and laws passed under previous administrations. That is a technicality, and irrelevant. If it were the case, the separations would have commenced back in January 2017. Attorney General Sessions has admitted part of the reason is ‘to send a signal’ to deter further illegal immigration. You do not send a signal by mistreating children, unless you are the Mob, or MS-13.
This is an administration choice: a conscious policy decision. It must be reversed.
Why is the administration doing this? I contend that President Trump is irritated that he cannot get his border wall funded by Congress. Further, the policies of President Obama set a precedent that children illegally entering the country would be treated more favorably, and this predictably caused the latest immigration challenge of minors (with or without parents) arriving at our borders. It was a crisis in 2014; it is less so today, but still a challenge. We must be honest about the conditions that created the opportunity for this vile policy.
All that said, nothing justifies the current policy: it is abhorrent. We have to come to grips with several real issues.
First, the Unites States cannot accept all families and children who are threatened by violence in their native lands. It sounds sweet, but it cannot be. Thus we have to give our immigration officials guidance to determine who does qualify for asylum under such circumstances, and who does not. This will be hard, and will result in some sad cases. Anybody who wants to join the argument must answer the question “where would you draw the line?” If you just want to post pictures of children crying, you disqualify yourself from the debate. Posit a solution.
Second, we need to clearly publicize our policies in those countries which are the primary source of such immigration, mostly in Central America, and we need the cooperation of local governments with our policy. We also need to improve our relationship with Mexico, as this is the means for such migration and when we have poor relations, the Mexican government feels no need to assist us in reducing it.
Third, we probably need to fund President Trump’s wall. Notice I didn’t say “build it,” just fund it. It won’t work; I explained why here. But as long as it remains unfunded, he will continue to search for ways to leverage any issue into a trade for funding. That is what is happening now, in my opinion. It is a huge infrastructure project, it won’t get done anytime soon, and we can pull the funding as soon as the chief proponent is gone.
Fourth, we need a rational policy for temporary workers from Mexico. We had a good guest worker program (Bracero) for years until President Kennedy went along with spiking it in the 1960s. Re-institute it, which will immediately improve the US- Mexico relationship, help ICE re-direct to more important matters (like violent criminal aliens), and provide needed workers in agriculture (we are approaching full employment, meaning soon there will be more jobs than people to do them).
Fifth, whatever rules we come up with for families with asylum requests, or for entering illegally, we will need to have some way to detain them. Anyone arguing to resume the failed “catch-and-release” policy of past administrations is being irresponsible. While there is no immigrant crisis, the notion that we can simply detain such people then release them in the country until they eventually (could be years!) get a hearing is unworkable. Think it doesn’t cost us much? It led to the Trump phenomenon. Ponder that for a moment. Therefore, detaining families or unaccompanied minors is going to mean some type of camps, and we need to be clear-eyed about the conditions. They need to be safe, secure, and comfortable (remembering the standard of comfort migrants expect). The camps we have now are pretty good; don’t believe me, read this from the Washington Post. When we compare them to the Holocaust we undermine the case. The camps are not the problem; the stupid, immoral policy is the problem.
I will not apportion blame in this case; there is plenty to go around. Both sides are playing to their bases, using images and sound-bites to fire up the crowd. Since Mr. Trump is President and the Republicans are in control of both houses, it is incumbent on them to lead. The Democrats must stop using this issue as a tool for the mid-term elections. If anyone really cares about the people, the children, they will stop scoring political points and act, by compromising.
This is difficult, not impossible. This is unspeakable, not unsolvable.
During my social media sharing of our adventure on the Camino Frances to Santiago de Compostela, some asked me what was my spiritual goal for becoming a pilgrim. I had a ready answer: to give thanks and praise to God for a life filled with blessings. After all, what can we give God: He needs nothing from us. He desires our love, and merits our praise and obedience. but how do you operationalize that, especially during retirement?
So I chose to go on a pilgrimage as a sign of respect and obedience and faith: God has given me so much, I should accept what He has in mind in this endeavor, too. I naively anticipated spending a lot of time in prayer at exquisite, ancient churches, long hikes on a smooth trail under a favorable sun, deep discussions with fellow pilgrims about the meaning of life.
What is that old saw? “If you want to make God smile, tell him your plans.”
What my wife and I got was something far more physically and emotionally challenging than we anticipated, despite many hours of training and over a hundred-and-fifty practice miles of hikes in the mountains of Mexico. The biggest challenges proved to be the keys to what God wanted me to learn, or at least that’s what I have discerned upon further reflection. Those challenges were: first, the overly positive view of the camino I absorbed from guidebooks and online sites, and second, the relentlessly, freakishly bad weather which seemed to follow us like Joe Btfsplk! (Lil’ Abner character if you don’t know; he always has a rain cloud over him)
(Blogger’s note: I covered this first learning point once previously here, so if you want to skip forward, please do. Go to the paragraph which begins “The second challenge was the weather.”)
Some who walk the camino have a remarkable spiritual experience that helps clarify the rest of life. They truly love the camino and want others to have the same type of experience. They often go back and do multiple routes or the same route multiple times, learning new things all the time. In their passion for what the camino has provided to them, they have a tendency to overlook how the camino might be experienced by other new pilgrims. They begin to describe steep hills as “gently rolling terrain,” forget about the dreadfully bad trail conditions going up and downhill, or just how truly dangerous the weather can get. I took such advice without the necessary grain of salt, and we (my wife and I) found ourselves in some very bad circumstances.
Up and down and rocky: this was a good part!
When we survived these situations, my relief quickly changed to anger, then rage. Neglecting to mention such challenges, or minimizing them, puts people at needless risk. This isn’t a question of “learning to overcome challenges”; as a former soldier, I know how that works, and it doesn’t involve exposing others to risk by failing to inform them. During my long camino hiking days, I wondered why God led us into such situations, and was I overreacting? Anger is a tricky emotion, as it can easily lead to all kinds of sin. I kept coming back to the notion of righteous anger: anger that is justified. Think Jesus with the money-changers in the Temple, Saints James (yes, Santiago himself) and John calling for vengeance, or “wipe the dirt from your feet” (Matthew 10:14).
Why would the Lord want me to experience such anger? What could it teach me? Prompted by the Holy Spirit, the thought occurred to me that I was tasting a small sample of God’s righteous anger at humanity as we fail him day after day after day. His justice would seem to necessitate severe punishment, and yet He relents, due to His Divine Mercy. My take was I was given this taste of divine anger to learn how to show divine mercy. Long way to go on that one, but at least I think I know what I am working toward.
The second challenge was the weather. If we had experienced even average weather for May in Spain, our camino would have been more enjoyable. I have to admit, the weather reminded me of the major military exercises I was involved with over 30 years ago in Germany (ReForGer, anyone?). It seemed like those exercises always occasioned long periods of gloom and rain. Bad weather is just one of those things that can affect any trip: so what?
I love puddles
This one was harder to understand. The poor weather interfered with my ability to pray as much as I intended: I had to focus on the slippery trail, the foggy route, or how hard the rain was falling. We had to spend more time on simple things like doing laundry, or finding something warm to drink, and less time visiting shrines or taking in the beauty of the countryside. So my initial reaction was that the bad weather was just bad luck.
When I returned home, one conversation I had on the walk up the mountain to O’Cebreiro kept coming back to me. The weather was cool that morning, and the fog dissipated. The clouds were thick but nonthreatening, permitting a little better view of the climb ahead of us and the valley behind us. For once, I was a little less obsessed with the weather, but still tired and not looking forward to the long uphill climb.
O’Cebreiro
Another pilgrim approached me along the way; I recognized him as someone who had been staying in some of the same towns, someone we had passed or had passed us numerous times. As he passed by me, I gave him a lackluster “Buen camino” and he responded with a hearty “it sure is! What a lovely day.” “Really?” I intoned. He explained that this is one of his favorite parts of the camino, and the weather was perfect for it. He had walked the Camino Frances several times, the earliest being back in the 1980s, before it was so popular. He remembered when O’Cebreiro, our goal for the day, was little more than a church and a few barns on top of the mountain. Now it’s a quaint little purpose-built village of bars, albergues, shops, and that church.
I admitted that I wasn’t feeling that warm, fuzzy glow about the camino he clearly was. He took that as a challenge. “Where else can you get a view of beautiful mountains and lush green valleys like this?” he asked. He didn’t expect my retort: “From my house.” “But what about the weather?” he parried. I replied, “Clearly better at home. I would be in shorts and sunglasses at home.” “Fair enough,” he continued, “but here on the camino you can meet total strangers and make quick friends over a meal, or a walk. Can you do that where you live?” Why, yes, I thought, that is exactly like where I live! But I didn’t say it: I simply smiled and told him, “Ok, buen camino!”
Home
That conversation eventually came back to me as a second spiritual growth point. Many people fall in love with the camino because it is so different from where or how they live. That wasn’t going to happen for me, because I already experience those advantages every day. I went on the camino in thanksgiving for blessings received: God was showing me that it need not necessarily have been that way. It is easy to accept blessings and become accustomed to them, especially when they seem so constant. I think the constant bad weather was a little reminder to enjoy what I already have, and to not take it for granted.
So I met my spiritual goals, even if it didn’t work out the way I anticipated. Pilgrims like to talk about finding “your way” on the camino. Sometime we have to remember what Jesus said: “Yo soy el Camino…”
As someone who just completed my first (and probably only) Camino, I want to take advantage of the perspective fresh in my mind to offer some thoughts to those considering taking on their first Camino Frances. I will approach this topic as objectively as possible, and try to note where my experience might have been unique, or what the general lesson is one should draw from my specific experience.
Nice trail; where’s the giant rolling ball?
First and most importantly, do research and training. On the latter, get all your gear, try it out and wear it in. If there is one area in which I would not economize, it is gear. Hike in varying weather, and do a lot of hills, not just up and down a mountain (like we did). Hike several (at least three) days in a row. Yes, there are people who just go and do the Camino. I was 19 once (and stupid), and just went and “did” a marathon. I even finished. It wasn’t fun. Training will make your actual Camino more enjoyable. My take away is there were far more hills than I expected, and far worse trail conditions, neither of which were adequately depicted in maps, guidebooks, or online. The worst trail conditions
Anybody need a rock?
occur on the steepest up and downhill portions, arguing for stronger ankle and sole support than you might otherwise use, and the use of hiking poles. Also consider buying shoes larger than usual to account for swelling of your feet. Make sure you practice whatever shoe/sock/treatment you select to prevent blisters and it works for you over long distances.
As to research, here you have to be careful. The obvious approach is to buy a guidebook and find a Facebook site and join a community like www.caminosantiago.me for info. One thing to remember is that online sites are full of other first-timers like you and Caministas, people who love the Camino. Think about it: those who quit the Camino, or hated the experience, are not hanging around to re-live it online. People who love something tend to overlook its flaws, so you have to take that into account. You can find lots of encouragement online, but also people who will tell you the trails are pretty good, the hills are all manageable, and that there’s always a cafe open in the next little town. They love the camino (which is a beautiful thing); they remember it that way, but they are romanticizing the Camino.
As to a guidebook, the online sites like Gronze or the Camino Pilgrim app are far more current and useful. I had two copies (different editions) of the infamous John Brierly “practical and mystical” guide to the Camino Frances, and they were practically and mystically useless. Mr. Brierly may be the world’s leading Caminista, but his “maps” are full of inaccuracies, which is an unpardonable sin for a guidebook. I only read a few of his “mystic” commentaries, which I found to be of Hallmark greeting card depth. If this works for you, great! His historical coverage was very good to excellent. If you are really dying for more Camino info, borrow an old Brierly edition from a friend or get one out of the library, but do not waste money buying this book, or ounces carrying it.
Consider “why” you are going on a Camino, and be as specific as you can. This may seem silly, but as you walk, you’ll face choices that will require you to revisit the “why?” So you need to have the answer in your pocket. Is it to walk every step from St. Jean to Santiago? To cross the Pyrenees? To be like a medieval pilgrim (more on that soon)? To get in shape? To get away from it all? To find yourself? A combination of these? Figure it out as best you can before you set off on the journey. It will make the decisions easier.
This one may be controversial: start in Pamplona. Why? Because it is easy to get to, it skips some awful trail time and very unpredictable weather, and it is a neat city to spend a day or two getting over jetlag. St. Jean is achingly cute, but hard to get to: right now there is no train (the line is out) and the bus is often oversubscribed. It leaves you to start with the difficult Pyrenees crossing, which can be very inclement: we had 2-3° Celsius, heavy fog, and howling wind on May 3rd! The bomberos rescued two pilgrims there with hypothermia the end of May. If you start at St. Jean, you’ll need to pack for cold weather you may not face for a while and the long downhill into Roncesvalles is prime territory for falls, blisters, and other trouble. It is not worth it, unless your goal requires crossing the Pyrenees (see earlier comment about “why?”)
Very cute
Some related thoughts: yes, the Camino Frances “starts” at St. Jean Pied de Port, but what does that even mean? When you drive somewhere, do you insist on driving to the “start” of the road? It is worth considering what a medieval pilgrimage was like, versus some idealized version we may have today. Pilgrims started from home. They walked because that was the only way to get there: you had to be rich to have a horse, and to keep it fed on such a journey. So don’t make a walking fetish out of their necessity! Do you think a medieval pilgrim turned down a cart ride to the next town? They walked the route of least resistance, begging or offering to work for room and board. The point was not to suffer, because life itself was already full of suffering. The point was to place yourself entirely in God’s hands, either as penance, or in thanksgiving, or in praise, and let whatever happens, happen. Guess what? Many pilgrims died on the way (to the oft quoted “the Camino provides” I always wanted to say “what? an early death?”). So you should probably disabuse yourself of the notion you will be recreating a medieval pilgrimage. It frees you to have your own Camino.
About that phrase “the Camino provides.” Now I know this phrase is shorthand for the spirit of goodwill one encounters on the way, but I think it is a little misleading. The Camino is a route. It is inanimate. It provides nothing. Sometimes, perhaps many times, other people provide help when it is most needed: other pilgrims, hospitaleros, locals. But do not think the Camino will provide. Consider this thought: if you choose not to carry Compeed for your blisters, and you get some blisters, you can sit and wait for help. But if the pilgrims following you all expect the Camino to provide, they will not have Compeed either! So help yourself by preparing with a few key items, which even if you don’t use, you can share. Among these are Compeed, pain reliever, anti-diarrheal, extra water, salt, sugar, cold meds, and antihistamines, and appropriate snacks. Most of these are things you can get at the next farmácia, but if you need an AD now, the next farmácia is always too far!
Try different lodging arrangements for the first two weeks, then select what you like best and schedule out three to four days in advance. Municipal and parochial albergues and donativos are great ways to meet people and save money, but if you want to stay in them, invest in some high quality earplugs or noise cancelling headphones. You will hear snoring the likes of which you never thought possible.
Splurge!
Private albergues, pensions, and hostals cost more and provide some privacy. You may decide to continue mixing it up after the first few weeks; just remember to keep scheduling out your reservations; once you hit Sarria it is essential, due to crowding.
Find an eating rhythm that works for you and Spain. In the smaller towns you can find places which cater more to pilgrim hours; in the big cities not so much in my experience. Many pilgrims get up early (0600) and have a small breakfast, get walking, stop mid-morning for a second breakfast, do lunch around 1330 and then dinner at 1930. Some pilgrim restaurants will serve a pilgrim menu (prix fixe) at lunch, some at dinner. Remember there is a siesta time in the later afternoon when even bars may close, and other hours where only tapas are served. Watch out for when breakfast (desayuno) is served, and especially for Sunday morning, when very little is open.
Consider taking shortcuts of all types. What!? No real pilgrim takes a shortcut: oh, but they did, and still do! Bring too much gear? You can ship it forward from any post office (Correos) in Spain. Have too much stuff to carry up that hill tomorrow? You can ship your backpack forward to the next stop. Notice a route where you are 500 meters from the next town, but the Camino zigs two kilometers to pass a church or Roman bridge? Go straight to the town, if you like.
Worth the extra time
Another even-more controversial idea: use the bigger cities as a way to make up time while extending your city-visit time. Big cities have buses, trains, and taxi routes. As you approach a big city (Burgos or León, for example), catch mass transit going in to avoid hiking the suburbs, and the same on the way out. Take the time you save (which could be as much as a day or two) and stay in the city. It is a shame to walk through a magnificent city like León and hurry through it. Don’t like the repetition of the entire Meseta, or the nasty downhill into Ponferrada? Skip some or all. Again this might seem like heresy, but do what fits in with your schedule and personal goals, not what everybody else does or a Camino purist suggests. You will hear people say “it’s your Camino” but that phrase sometimes comes with an implied “tut-tut” when what you have decided to do does not meet with the other person’s ideal Camino. Here is the plain fact: everyone walks their own Camino, and no one walks the same Camino twice. It is just “the way” to where you are going. Be confident in your choices.
Know what weather most affects you, and prepare to mitigate it. I can easily handle hot weather and rain; I find cold rain and wind unbearable. You can’t prepare equally for all the weather possibilities, especially in the Pyrenees and Galicia. For the outlier weather, you might consider rummaging in the “give-and-take” box at your albergue. Take something, wear it as needed, get it washed, and either drop it off or return it.
Ugliness wins!
Fight the urge to leave behind something about you on the Camino. Graffiti is ugly, tasteless, and illegal regardless of what it says. Some like to place rocks on everything. Making a stone-pile arrow to point the way? Very cool! Piling rocks on every route marker? No. Sometimes those markers are the only place to sit down for miles! You will see some nice permanent memorials to recent pilgrims who died on the way; others add pictures and papers and toys from their loved ones to these memorials, which is
Let it be
touching, but eventually results in a wet pile of rubbish. Some pile up rocks as little altars; perhaps they anticipate small druids coming behind them? Here’s a suggestion: if you have this urge, find some larger flat rocks and make a seat. I guarantee you pilgrims coming along behind you will bless you everyday. Better still, use your sharp ended poles to pick up trash; carry a spare bolsa with you and dump it when you take breaks.
On a related but delicate topic, you will probably do as bears do and poop in the woods at some point. Some pointers: do not stop, drop, and roll. First, identify a relatively private spot. Second, use the heal of your shoe to kick (back and down) a small dent in the ground: it might take several kicks. Aim and fire. If your aim was bad, use your TP to get your product in the hole. Place the TP there too, then kick dirt back over the hole and move on. I guess this word hasn’t gotten around, based on the elephant burial grounds I stumbled into off the Camino!
The fewer clothes you bring, the more you will rely on laundry. This means to keep your pack light, you become more vulnerable to whether (your next stop has laundry services) or weather. Sure, under some circumstances you can just wear the same clothes again, but do you really want to? We had cold, wet weather nearly the entire month of May. We could always hand wash our clothes, but that meant wearing clean wet clothes in the morning. Sometimes the dryers worked, sometimes not. In the bigger towns, we usually found a laundromat, which was always clean, well-equipped, and cheap. I strongly encourage pilgrims to consider this option, as it only cost about an hour of time and six Euros for warm, clean, dry laundry.
Finally, a comment about pain, suffering, and discouragement. You’ll encounter all of them on the camino. Some suggest this is the heart of the Camino, this is how you discover something about yourself: they did. If that is the case for you, I can assure you, the Camino will indeed provide. You don’t need to seek pain out, or add to it. One of the main lessons I re-learned is we all have our limits, and they are all different. When well-meaning enthusiasts are telling you to just keep going, keep carrying, it’s not that bad, remember all those pilgrims who didn’t make it, back then or now. Yes, push yourself, but recognize your limits, and finish your Camino, according to your goals, under your rules. Buen camino!
Last post I intimated our travels were at at end and we were making our way home to Mexico. We flew Norwegian air again, this time from Madrid to Los Angeles via London/Gatwick. Except we didn’t.
The first leg to London went fine, and we boarded the 787 Dreamliner (a plane I already praised on the flight over to Europe), but we never got off the ground. Some kind of equipment issue brought us back as we rolled into take-off, then back to the gate. Like most, I am all on board with maintenance delays, even for a relatively new aircraft: safety first! Now we were stuck for an hour or two as the UK authorities decided how to handle us: since we did not transit the country we had to be treated as arrivals and de-plane, get our bags, and go through customs.
While they were deciding all this, Norwegian canceled the flight via text message, but did not bother to inform the captain, who was still stalling and hoping for the best until the passengers showed him their cell phones.
I have been in airline mass cancellation situations before, and it can be everyone for themselves, but at least when you are working with a large airline, they recognize the potential negative effects, bite the bullet, and get you new flights with another line, a hotel room and a meal, or all the above.
Not so with Norwegian. They sent a follow-up text about a minute after the first one saying they were having difficulties getting replacement fares and hotels, and encouraging customers to find their own! This set off a frenzy, and the pilot even came over the intercom to encourage calm.
Eventually we got off the plane and through customs: kudos to the UK customs officials, who handled their end very well. We all ended up in a huge line at the Norwegian counter, where the number of available seats and rooms dwindled fast. I went online and rebooked, and we’ll use both Norwegian’s claim system and the EU passenger rights process for reimbursement and compensation.
Meanwhile, we are stuck at the Holiday Inn @ Gatwick airport for two whole days. I promised a verdict on the low-cost carrier Norwegian air after this trip, and here it is: guilty of incompetence. The low fares and Premium seating just can’t make up for the poor customer support, the delays, and now the cancellation. Go elsewhere for your flying needs.
We’re making the best of the situation. Judy is recovering slowly, so we are taking it easy. We’ve been to London many times, and while we would never say we’ve grown tired of it (nod to Dr. Johnson), we have seen all the easy tourist sights, so we may just spend the time in the countryside.
Welcome to Horley, mate!
Gatwick is about a mile from the town of Horley, which is probably in the OED as the picture beside the definition of the word “village.” After six weeks on the continent, we have been stunned at how well they speak English here. An old joke, I know, but I really did speak slowly and loudly at the hotel check in, until the young lady behind the counter rattled off a standard hotel greeting and I thought: aha, English. We understand what’s on the telly (mostly), the food is (ahem) interesting, everything is in Pounds and expensive: must be England!
So it’s fish & chips and a pint for a night or two, then another try at a Norwegian air flight to LAX. Continued prayers requested; Cheerio!
We continued heading south in search of sunshine and warmth, and finally found it in Lisbon. We had blue skies and temps in the 70s, which was sooooo welcome!
Belém tower, Lisbon
Before we left Fatima, the relentless cold and wet got to Judy, as she came down with a nasty chest cold. We went to the farmacia there to get something for her cough, and the pharmacist kept apologizing for the lousy weather, saying she had never seen it like this in June. We laughed and explained that it was our fault, we brought it with us from Spain! I did see where Mexico is suffering from a heat-wave associated with the La Niña weather phenomenon. I’ll have to research whether that has any effect here in Europe.
Given Judy’s condition, our sightseeing in Lisbon was pretty much canceled. We did stumble into a great restaurant for lunch (skewers of salmon, shrimp, and vegetables). Later we made it to a Lebanese place around the corner from our hotel, and that was about the extent of it. Lisbon will have to wait until another trip.
Mezze, of course
We drove to Madrid, just to stage for our flights via London/Gatwick and LAX to Guadalajara. We’re ready for home, sweet home.
For those who joined my blog for the Camino, there will be one last Camino post soon. Otherwise, I will return to writing about the day-to-day trials and tribulations of being an expat.
We decided to trade eight hours of walking in the rain in Spain for six hours of driving in the rain in Portugal. What is going on here in Iberia? Are we cursed? I have friends in Ireland and Quebec reporting out on the sunny warm weather, and here we sit with leaden gray skies and the drip, drip, drip of cool, steady rain.
OK, enough whining!
Like Lourdes, Fatima is a purpose-built site of religious pilgrimage. Otherwise, it is a tiny village which would never garner any attention. During the period May to October 1917 (notice those dates), three illiterate peasant children reported seeing visions of a woman as bright as the sun, who implored them to pray to end the Great War, to convert Russia and thus prevent more evil, and to arrange for a church to be built on the site, which was a pasture. The preposterous nature of the claims (Russia was a Christian nation, the war was several years old with no end in sight, why would anybody build a church there based on the claims of three shepherd children?) led local civic and religious authorities to reject the childrens’ claims. Still, a growing number of people joined the children on the 13th of each month, even though only the children could “see” the apparition.
All this came to a head on October 13th, when the Lady appeared one last time before a crowd of tens of thousands. Only the three peasant children saw her, but the crowd witnessed the sudden appearance of the sun on an overcast day, and the sun appeared to spin and move in irregular ways. Not all agree on what happened, but the sodden ground and damp witnesses admit they were now dry and amazed. Two of the peasant children died in the flu pandemic in 1918, as the Lady predicted, but the third, Lúcia became a nun and lived until 2005.
Much is made of the “secrets” the Lady told the children, which they only grudgingly revealed: the first was a vision of hell, which convinced the children of the necessity of leading holy lives. The second was a prediction that the Great War would soon end, but would be followed by an even worse one if people did not renounce evil, and Russia was not reconsecrated to the Sacred Heart. The third secret involved some danger to the Church, which Sister Lúcia confirmed included the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II in 1981.
Like Lourdes, the area outside the grounds of the cathedral is a garish mess of hotels, cafes, trinket stores and religious kitsch. The grounds themselves are tranquil, although we did run into an aggressive group of beggars that started telling at us when we did not respond to their entreaties! Fatima is a huge complex, and the original nature of the quiet grove where Our Lady appeared is gone. It is impressive simply for the size of the facilities, if not their architecture.
Here is the sole remaining tree, which the children stood under when they saw the apparitions.
It is next to the partially enclosed chapel of apparitions, where we attended Mass.
The statue resides where Our Lady appeared
The complex is reminiscient of St. Peter’s square in Rome, and it stretches away from the former grove, with a neo-modern, partially underground complex of chapels on one side, and the Basilica of Our Lady of the Rosary on the other.
Looking toward the neo-modern structureThe basilica of Our Lady
The latter has an especially dramatic altar scene:
What really happened at Fatima one-hundred and one years ago? Did the children make up a story eerily similar to Lourdes and Guadalupe? How did they know before the October Revolution that the communists would take over in Russia, that the Great War would end soon, that it would be followed by another, or that the children would soon die? Why weren’t the children more upset about their impending demise? Why did progressive, socialist reporters and Portugese government officials admit something very strange happened in the sky that day in October? Why did Pope John Paul credit Our Lady with saving his life during the assassination attempt? Was it just a coincidence that he finally, specifically consecrated Russia to the Sacred Heart of Jesus in 1984, and Sister Lúcia confirmed in 1989 that this met Our Lady’s guidance?
So many questions, yet here stands an immense monument to the power of faith.
Here’s a collection of thoughts I had walking in the rain across Spain. I was too tired most nights to flesh them out and post them, but they lingered in my mind, so here they are now. If they are half-baked, put them back in the microwave for a few minutes and see if they make more sense.
Extroverts probably enjoy the Camino more then introverts. Introverts can certainly find quiet time and walk alone, but for extroverts, the Camino Frances is like an extended, adult summer camp. Every 100 meters or so, there is a brand new friend you can share your life story with, and who will share theirs with you! Look, we already have something in common: we are on the Camino! Extroverts can overshare with little worry, pledge to be BFFs, then move along to the next fellow pilgrim. That has to be very attractive to extroverts!
Oooh, friends!
The single biggest variable in whether you will enjoy your Camino is this: do you really like the great outdoors? Yes, I know, Captain Obvious talking here, but in all the reading and research I did before the Camino, I never saw it put that way. You’re spending 8-12 hours outside every day. If you are an outdoors person, you will find a way to love the heat, the cool, the rain , the fog, the mud, the dry, the pollen, the manure, and (ahem) eliminating in public. If you’re not such a person, these things will wear on you. Simple as that.
I love puddles!
John Brierly of guidebook fame had a social media post the other day where he was defending his inclusion of “mystic” guidance in his books because he feared that pilgrims were losing the notion of pilgrimage as something more than a hike. I am sympathetic to his view, but he misses the religious forest for the mystic trees. Would-be pilgrims come primarily from a variety of advanced, industrialized societies that are increasingly secular. You can’t take someone steeped in non-religious or anti-religious culture and give them a few mystic thoughts for their walk in the woods and get a “pilgrim.”
99.9% of the Bicigrinos (bike pilgrims) are wonderful people who ring bells, shout “buen Camino” and share the trail well. Those that weave through the walkers at 30 kph on treacherous downhill sections without warning? Saint James would like a word with you.
Northern Spanish cuisine, in which I include Basque and Galician, is very simple but delicious: high quality ingredients without many additional spices or sauces. It restored my faith in peppers as something not to be feared, just enjoyed.
Speaking a little Spanish goes a long way on the Camino. Just mastering a combination of por favor, buenas-, gracias, ay-perdon, lo siento, and donde will help immeasurably.
Some pilgrims (apparently) carry things like Sharpie’s in order to write something profound and permanent in public. Don’t. You are not profound, even after a pitcher of sangria. Nor are you witty, or original, or encouraging, or motivating, or appreciated, when you scrawl or scratch something on a fence, tree, rock, or whatever. Just walk, por favor.
No.
How many more pilgrims can the Camino Frances sustain before it becomes a Disneyfied charicature of a pilgrimage? The numbers keep increasing, and the way from Sarria at times resembles the walk toward a football match from a distant parking lot. It is ok for now, but continues to grow at a steady rate.
The Camino will redefine the meaning of the word “hill” for you. Mountains will still be the same, but from now on, when someone says “there’s a hill” you will go all Crocodile Dundee with a “that’s not a hill, this is a hill” story from the Camino.
I got very angry several times out on the Camino: not just mad, but downright seething. It was always due to bad information provided to me, that led in turn to either bad advice or bad decisions, which could have been dangerous for my wife and me. I prayed about why this was happening. Certainly God didn’t want me to accept this with equanimity (“hey, we could have been seriously injured, but no harm, no foul!”). No, this was righteous anger, and it was our very own pilgrim St. James, one of the sons of thunder, who asked Jesus to call lightning down on evil-doers. In a moment of clarity, the Holy Spirit inspired this thought in me: my righteous anger was a tiny taste of that which God experiences every day, as we promise to do better and then fail Him time and again. His justice would demand severe punishment, but his Divine Mercy is fathomless and unrelenting, if we only ask for it. So He forgives us. My anger was just a prelude to learning how to be more merciful, just as God is merciful.
Angry like this guy
One of the big mysteries of the Camino is “will the Botafumeiro swing when I reach Santiago?” Here is a good clue. Around 1030, go to the museum and get a Pilgrim’s ticket and walk around. When you get to the 2nd level, the cloisters, walk around the courtyard to where the entrance to the Sacristy is (it is marked, but with a Prohibida sign). If there’s a brazier out in the corner of the courtyard and it has charcoal heating up, the Botafumeiro will swing at the end of Mass. You can use the side entrance from the museum to go directly into the cathedral and see the Botafumeiro, then return to the museum.
Look, a clue!
I will have one final Camino post, a wrap-up for those considering doing the Camino.
Slept in this morning and didn’t walk anywhere more than 100 meters. We found a great little cafe next to our hotel and had bacon and eggs and cafe con leche. Returned to the cathedral for a mass in English at 10:00, in a nice little side chapel, celebrated by a priest from Tanzania. We wandered around the cathedral museum, then we saw something very unusual: a charcoal brazier in the courtyard next to where the sacristy for the cathedral is. It was unlikely the priests were going to barbecue, but just as unlikely the botafumeiro, which flew the last two days was going to fly three in a row.
Will it stay or will it go?
We skipped out of the side entrance in the museum and found a place to watch the noon pilgrims’ mass, and sure enough, the botafumeiro flew again!
Sorry for the video quality!
Back in the museum, I saw this wooden carving of St. Sebastian, and I thought “this guy should be the patron saint of Washington bureaucrats!”
“Are we done here? I have another meeting to attend.”
Then there was this great painting of St. James as Santiago Matamoros: notice the Moor in the foreground, having a very bad day.
Pilgrim saint with attitude, and sword
Finally, we made our way to the top of the cathedral museum, so I can show you what the square is like when the rain just threatens, but does not pour:
Well, we made it. The pilgrimage ended much like it began, in pouring rain, thick fog, and about 50 degrees. There was very little jubilation in the square in front of the cathedral as the drenched pilgrims huddled under anything to get out of the rain.
Anybody seen the cathedral?
As we appoached Santiago, we passed all the usual sights without seeing any of them. I know we went past the airport runway because I heard the jets landing. I saw the sign for Mont Gozo, the hill of joy where one can first see the spires of the cathedral, except no joy today, just fog. The good news was the terrible weather kept the arriving pilgrim numbers down, and we only had a 90 minute wait to get our Compostela.
We had heard about the strict scrutiny the volunteers sometimes enforce: where did you start, why is this place stamp missing, how did you get from here to there. We had none of that, which apparently is only for those who start in Sarria or ask for a distancia which elaborates exactly how far you walked. We just got the gratis Compostela provided by the Cathedral. It took all of 4 minutes to fill out the form and received the printed certificate.
Everything looks better in Latin!
I want to thank everyone who followed along on this adventure, especially those who prayed us forward, because Lord knows we needed it. I will have some more about the Cathedral and Santiago tomorrow, then a quick recap of thoughts which occured to me along the way, and finally a longer bit of advice for aspiring pilgrims. And we still have Fatima and Lisbon to visit!
I’ll skip the weather report, as you already know it. Every morning, we watch the Spanish news and morning show in a bar or cafe as we have breakfast: the weatherman always shows a map of the peninsula covered with clouds and rain, then he complains about the cold temperatures. I could be a Spanish TV weatherman!
We only did 16 kilometers yesterday, and got into our pensíon in Arzua just in time to watch the town’s Corpus Christi procession go by our window. Turns out this Catholic feast is the town’s special feast day, so most everything was closed for the festivities which included a canon and a fiesta in the town square. Enjoy the video:
We went to the Pilgrim’s mass at the local church, then out to a restaurant called Casa Nené, where we lucked into the last reservation, as they have only 20 seats. Turns out this wasn’t your typical pilgrim stop. We had English speaking waiters and a real menu with small plates for sharing: lobster and cheese toasts, grilled fresh vegetables, locally-made cheese sticks and a nice bottle of local wine. It was a great change of pace.
Camino Frances? More like Camino Drench-es
Today was our penultimate walk, and the Camino decided to go full circle and end as we began: all day thundershowers. We completed half the remaining distance (20 kilometers), so God-willing we will be in Santiago tomorrow around lunch. We may have to swim the final few kilometers, but at this point we’re ready for it. We are holed up in our albergue, drying our clothes on the radiator, eating our emergency rations (don’t need them anymore), and taking naps.
hundred-and-fifty practice miles of hikes in the mountains of Mexico. The biggest challenges proved to be the keys to what God wanted me to learn, or at least that’s what I have discerned upon further reflection. Those challenges were: first, the overly positive view of the camino I absorbed from guidebooks and online sites, and second, the relentlessly, freakishly bad weather which seemed to follow us like Joe Btfsplk! (Lil’ Abner character if you don’t know; he always has a rain cloud over him)
museum, then we saw something very unusual: a charcoal brazier in the courtyard next to where the sacristy for the cathedral is. It was unlikely the priests were going to barbecue, but just as unlikely the botafumeiro, which flew the last two days was going to fly three in a row.
