Tuesday, September 24th
Arzua
6:50am
Seems odd that tomorrow I'll be in Santiago. This the second last day of walking.
Today's destination is Arca, then Santiago tomorrow. And that's it. The Destination.
For nearly three months I've been walking to Santiago and I'll have finally
arrived. Where an abstract noun becomes a Proper One. When the concept, the
idea, becomes real.
7:32am
Still in Arzua
Cafe Ameixa, and you just have to admit, the planet could do with
a few more names with the letter 'x' in them.
8:44am
So far mostly walking along a wide forest track, through some villages, uphills
and down, crossing some streams at the bottom of the downs, then uphills
again, nothing too demanding.
Pilgrims passing, some solo, some in groups, some taking an interest in what
Chris is painting. This particular hill, lined with what I think are elms,
moss covered, with branches overhanging the way, leafy and green, and slowly
becoming day behind us. The pinkish yellow clouds boding a good day.
Another solo pilgrim walks by, a scallop shell around his neck, his trousers
artfully patched. Now another one, a two-stick specialist, older, grey, smiling,
but carrying a heavy pack, "gracias, trés bien," as he goes by.
10:40am
Salceda
The bar, and it's really ordinary. Was hoping for something cute, but whatever.
The woman serving sneezing and spluttering over the Tarta de Santiago. So,
it's just the coffees thanks.
 |
10:50am
There's
been a few long The Way. I suspect the sneezing woman at Salceda may
be responsible for a few. I'd suggest avoiding the Tarta de Santiago
there. |
11:20am
Oh Lordy, here's another one:
Mariano Sánchez Corisa Carro
Peregrino a pie
Falleció aquí 24.09.1993
D.E.P
Hell, it's the anniversary of this peregrino's death.
Must've withstood the toxic Tarte a little longer than Guillermo.
a little later
 |
And
like a vision, a Coke machine appears out of nowhere. A shrine, a miracle.
Better than holy water ... |
11:50am
Empalme
First, and I think only bar in town. Been following another "pilgrim path" of
cobblestones leading into town. Awful to walk on, give me gravel please.
But I'll settle for this coke, from a machine that works, and a zangana
thingy, like a miniature swiss roll.
6:17pm
Arca
Have a headache you could photograph, maybe brought on by an overdose of 'ola'
and 'buene Camino' to every single pilgrim along the way, or maybe brought
on by a note left on one of the kilometre markers, "the way to your heart
is the true Camino", well then, peregrino, why bother walkin'? Seems a
real pity that some airhead pilgrim had the flash of realization that it's
a complete waste of time. Bejaysus, you could be finding The Way just by sittin'
still, on yer lounge floor, and listenin' to yer Enya records. That crap was
also an argument put forward by Saint Augustine, to
destroy the legitimacy of the Camino itself, by stating that the only true
pilgrimage was an inner one, thus, in one stroke, destroying the legitimacy
of any idea of external pilgrimage to any particular place as a valid spiritual
exercise. This reinterpretation, of what pilgrimage actually means, was based
on political decisions made by those who saw advantages in the
destruction of the Spanish economy at the time.
Maybe the unsignposted directions to the albergue. Most towns have yellow arrows leading to the albergues. Arca doesn't. I suspect you're just meant to somehow know that you turn left at the main road, then keep walking about ½km, with no reassurances that you're heading the right way, even though you're actually heading out of town.
Maybe it's the other pilgrims, and some are just so full of shite, the young ones with the skimpy backpacks, the slightly less young ones who pretend they've had great insight and flashes of self-realization. Sorry, guys, but you wouldn't have a feckin' clue between yourselves. Then there's the peregrino's who turn up utterly clean, totally devoid of even a speck of dirt on their backpacks. I don't know how you managed it, must never have put them down, anywhere.
9:03pm
Well, that's about it. Tomorrow's 17kms ends at Santiago.
Chris is asking how I feel, and I still don't know. A little sad, maybe, that
it's nearly over, and maybe a little glad for the same reason. It's been so
simple. Get up, walk, walk some more, arrive at some destination, find a bed,
sleep, then repeat the entire process the next day, and the next, and just
keep on doing it 'til it's over.