Monday 16 April 2018

Weeping and peeing across Spain



The Camino thus far has, among many things, been a process of weeping and peeing. Now that may sound a bit dark and miserable... alas ... it is the opposite. Let me define my weeping. For me this means water seeps from my eyes and nose as my heart fills up, like an overflow of fluid seeping from the best things in life like joy, laughter, tenderness, spirit, Holy spirit, sadness, grief and love. Especially love in action!! So now I proceed with my weeping story. 

People pass me by and say ‘Buen Camino’, (good path) or they drive by and beep their horn and make gestures of triumph and call out ‘Buen Camino’. I weep. We arrive in a cafe or bar at the end of a long day of walking, looking exhausted and desperate to eat, rest and remove our boots and other pilgrims clap and cheer us into the warmth. I weep and weep again as I re-live that feeling right now. My gorgeous fellow pilgrims Kate, Miri and Courtney who walked, talked and laughed with Julie and I all day, many a day, in the rain, sleet, sun and snow cheered us on as we reached the crest of yet another agonising slippery, muddy hill, loving and encouraging us on. I wept ...In fact I have wept a lot. That day in the freezing snow, my gloves, way too wet to wear, resulted in my hands turning blue and becoming frozen in position around my sticks. Miri, an Emergency Doctor, found some of her woollen socks and ministered to my hands, tied my sticks to her pack and walked me through that goddam snow to the monastery. Yep... I wept some more... such happy weeping. Such victorious weeping. I felt so overcome with love and gratitude and couldn’t believe how happy I truly was and am. The monastery at San Juan de Ortaga was freezing. There was no hot water, the food serving was simple and generous, warm and filling (despite all the Germans telling us not to eat it because it was so bad). I tucked in and was again overwhelmed with gratitude and wept some more. Climbing fully clothed in to my sleeping bag and having a tiny space to be in, just 4 feet away from the loudest snorer from South Korea almost led me to a different type of weeping... until we all got the giggles and a different weeping took place. He snored on thankfully. Every day is like this. Endless gratitude and a sense of joy as we help each other progress on our walk. Gratitude for the smallest things like soap, shampoo, warm water, tea, a safety pin,another day without blisters, a peg or rubber band can get me weeping again and again. The Camino is having its way with me, forcing me to accept help and providing endless opportunities to accept what is. I don’t accept help well in my normal life. I give to others and insist on fierce independence at home. The Camino has thrown that to the wind. I even ask for help with the tiniest things. You have to or it’s very hard... so I endlessly joyously weep. It’s a good thing, the best thing. The Camino is winning, gently forcing me to surrender to her. 

I have farewelled those gorgeous pilgrim gals a few times now and the Camino has put us back together again and again. I weep when they leave and weep when they are placed back in my way,my Camino way. 

The most tender acts of kindness, either those directed my way or the many witnessed along the way leave me weeping. 

The peeing is much trickier!! There don’t seem to be any public toilets across Spain! You need to find a cafe or bar for those moments. It has been unusually cold for this time of year. Hydrating well, drinking cafe con leches at every opportunity and cold weather result in the need for frequent peeing. This simple act is made extremely difficult due to the endless layers of clothing, straps, buckles, clips, packs and other paraphernalia one wears on the Camino! When urgency strikes you look around and survey the scene, often noticing there are only endless fields of leafless grape vines, no trees or rises and there are pilgrims coming down the track! You weigh up your chances for a quick one (which never seems to be quick enough). You decide either to hold on (which is torturous)or you again surrender to the Camino and just squat anyway! In my first few days I tried my best to find something to get behind and then in mid stream discovered there was a track or road behind me and a local farmer was getting a full view as he came past! Or a young Chinese guy had wandered past and smiled at me as I struggled to finish up! Once you start it’s impossible to stop!!! In many places the only option is a small ditch on the side of the road. Barely a ditch! But you go for it in the hope that no cars, trucks or pilgrims will pass you by. They always do! Toilet etiquette extends as far as people pretending you aren’t there, that you aren’t peeing away in full view! A further challenge is the state of your toilet paper, usually stolen from the last cafe, usually already been used to blow your nose on multiple times due to the constant nose dripping that we pilgrims complain about!  By the time you reach the next cafe you find yourself weeping in gratitude for the clean Spanish toilets!!!

7 comments:

  1. Such a wonderful read Julia....I must say that I had wondered about the peeing situation...now I understand...haha

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  2. You write well. Nothing like being stripped back to raw bones to make room for love and gratitude. It has been a long time since I have been to that place, and you have reminded me of its harsh beauty. Weep and pee onward (and downward, or perhaps down wind, ha ha). Sending lots of love your way.

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  3. Loved this read. I've not walked in winter, yet it all rang so true and brought back many memories.

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  4. That is very much how my Camino was in 2007. It was a great time of healing for me and now I set out on another one at 61, I wonder what healing will take place. This time I have my trusty.shewee which assists with the peeing situation, I always wear shorts eve. I. The cold so the shewee works well. In 2016 we walked from Lisbon and sadly I lost my shower so spent many days trying to source another one using Google translator to assist me asking for a female portable unirnator but I had no luck. As fate would have it my father who was 94 passed away so we returned to Melbourne for 10 days and so I brought another shewee. We returned to continue our journey. Thanks for your lovely story

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