After a very long rest yesterday afternoon, we finally went out for a meal. We went to a place that came very highly recommended. The recommendations were obviously based on the quantity of food for price - 8 euros for three courses! The vegetble soup that I ate was magnificent - filled with chick peas, yum. I then had a massive crumbed pork steak and followed with a small tub of icecream. THe house wine was nothing to write home about but for 8 euros, I am not complaining.
Today's walk was a difficult one. It was long, about 28 kms. It was made harder because I have done something to my left ankle. I felt a slight twinge last night - it was worse today and is intolerable now. I began the walk hobbling and had to force myself to walk normally... Each time I stoppped, the restarting got harder. I was very tempted, numerous times, to call a taxi.
Most of the walking was uphill. None of it was terribly steep, but it was an almost constant up, up, up. By now, one would think that I have learnt to read a topographical map. But, still, yesterday I looked at the map and declared it easy going. When I looked at it several times, today, I can't work out why I thought that last night... rose coloured glasses.
I started in the very early morning and walked in the dark for many a kilometre. I think that I missed the most beautiful parts, the woods and tree lined streets, because it was so dark. By the time the light had dtarted to appear, I was for the most part surrounded by fields. They all looked very much the same.
Most of today's walking also occurred in what was not quite a drizzle. It never exactly rained; it was like walking in the spray of an atomiser for 20 kilometres. At least it was cool.
Again, the first open bar did not appear for about 13 kms. By that time, I would have killed for a coffee. When I walked into the bar, the two spanish girls who took a wrong track with me yesterday were sitting there. As I left, two men who were on the same path and the same time, yesterday, arrived. We are all walking at the same time and same pace. I walked for another 8 kms or so until I found the next bar and could have another coffee.
After this, it was all very much uphill, around the side of a mountain, in fact. I had decided, because we were staying in an off-Camino town that I would walk an alternative "green route" to get there. Most people walk to one of the major places on the Camino and then call the hotel to be collected, and are deposited back there the next day. I wanted to walk the whole way.
Eventually, I came to the place where the routes divided and headed left. I was no more than 50 metres up the road when an older gentleman called me back to his house. There, he tried to convince me that I was on the wrong path. I explained that I was taking an alternative route. He tried to convince me that I was mad in that weather to do this. He tried to explain how complicated the path was. He wanted me to follow the main roads. But, I said, that's another 3.5 kilometres. I eventually convinced him that my guide book was very detailed and I would be right. He waved me on my way.
A couple of kilometres into this journey, while still on a main stretch, I was now so completely surrounded by clouds that I could no see twenty metres either side. Apparently, I was walking between windmills. I could hear them, but only once did I even glimpse the base of one. At one point, I heard a car, so I stopped to let it pass me by. The driver stopped and tried to tell me I was on the wrong path. I told him I was going to A Picato, which he corrected to A Picota, and that I had a map and he smiled and went on his way.
With the help of my guide book and GPS on my phone, I made the journey rather easily. I did take one wrong turn, but this actually set me on a better path.
At about 12.10pm, I came to the local church, which is ten minutes outside of the town. People were gathering, lots of people. I thought that maybe Mass was at 12.30. I entered the church and a girl in a first communion dress was having her picture taken. I said a prayer and left and saw a bus pull up outside. I talked to an elderly lady who told me Mass was at 1pm and that it was a Mass with and orchestra and also first holy communions. I asked if it was open to the public and she said it was the regular Sunday Mass.
I raced up the hill to the hotel, found Linda already ensconced, told her of the orchestra at Mass, and we organised to go. I had wisely packed clean clothes in my day-pack so I was able to change into shorts, tshirt and thongs. Boy was I underdressed! As we approached the church, everyone was in their Sunday best.
The road was blocked off to cars (for the later procession), and the man controlling the entry recognised me for 30 minutes earlier. He remarked that I must be tired and I told him that I had walked 27 or 28 kms. He was quite impressed.
We entered the church and took up a place a few rows from the back. By the time I had finished a rosary and Mass was about to begin, the little church was packed to overflowing. I felt like I had taken someone's seat and suffered a little bit from the people who stared at my shorts and thongs - oh well!
The Mass was glorious. What a highlight for the day and for the whole Camino. Four beautiful young children made their first Holy Communion. The priest had a magnificent manner when dealing with the children (calling all children up at the Our Father to join hands with him in prayer). The Mass itself was not in Spanish but in Gallego, the local dialect which is like Portuguese. The Feast Day was for Our Lady of Mt Carmel and the Gospel reading began with Jesus inviting his disciples to come aside for a while and rest. The first half of the homily, he focussed on how the Lord invites us in the Sunday Mass to come aside and rest for a while. It was lovely.
During the homily, they seemed to be taking up the collection. In fact, they were passing around prayer cards and mini-scapulars. When I placed my 5 euro on the plate and took and prayer card and scapular for both Linda and Me, the man with the plate gave me a nod of the head; I had obviously done the right thing.
As communion approached, I wondered how it would work in such a crowded church, with people even standing in the centre aisles. As it turns out, the priest brought communion to us. This is what we do in our small Chapel of St Paul for Tuesday Mass. I was immediately reminded of home.
At the end of Mass, the aisles emptied and men came forward and went into side chapels. They retrieved a cross, a banner, a statue of St John the Baptist (after whom the church is named), and a statue of Our Lady of Mt Carmel. We then processed down the street and then they began to come back again. At this moment, Linda and I took our leave. We were both quite overcome and overwhelmed by the experience.
We ate a very late lunch, with some translation difficulties in the ordering, and then returned to our hotel for a rest.
A difficult walking day, but one filled with an abundance of graces.
Adios!
Wearing white makes the children look all the more beautiful. To think they will never know that members of a parish on the other side of the world prayed for them at the time of making their First Holy Communion. May they keep the Faith. Our Lady of Mt Carmel means a lot to us here as well, so a touching encounter for us all as you near journey's end.
ReplyDelete