Learning to Walk 24

CAMINHO PORTUGUÊS – Vigo

(33,420 STEPS – 25.82 KMS – 16.03 MILES)

“Let me have the phenomena which are inconvenient as well as things which flatter the senses, and the chances are that my life will be a healthier and happier one than that of the person who spends his time on a cloud blushing at Nature’s naughtiness.”
– WH Hudson, The Purple Land

Ignoring the First Sign

I’m usually a stickler about following the prescribed Camino path, step by step on the historical ways, but as you know by now, this one has been different. By intention.

When I left the Albergue Playa de Sabarís this morning, I walked the two blocks to the official signage that pointed the official way. I had looked at the map last night and knew that this way wandered a few kilometers to the east and then entered the next town of Ramallosa. I also knew from my quick 15 second review of the map last night that Ramallosa was only about half a kilometer straight away on the Rua Porta do Sol. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. I rebelled against tradition and my own inclinations.

The best part of this decision was finding a pasteleria serving hot donuts and hotter coffee. I sat at the sidewalk table and watched as other errant pilgrims passed by, wondering if they followed me…

Coffee and a donut at a sidewalk cafe in Sabaris, Spain. — *First things first.*

Decision Time at the Second Sign

After the timely and delicious breakfast, and a few minutes pondering the possibility of rain today, I hit the streets again. When I crossed the long bridge ending in Ramallosa, I was forced to make another decision. The official signage pointed to the right, through some forests, but mostly suburbs, all the way to Vigo. The port city was my stop for the day.

Back in Vila do Conde in Portugal, I began to walk intermittently with two French guys. Their pace and durability were similar to mine, so we were often crossing paths and staying in the same places. When I say walk, that’s all we did. There was no exchange between the three of us, save the occasional “Buen Camino.” They were content to remain in their French-speaking world and I in my own.

They stood at the Intersection of Decision and asked in very good English as I approached:

“Do you know the Way?”

Of course I did, I was an expert, having studied the map for 15 seconds last night. I replied:

“The official Camino goes off to the right through a national forest and then into Vigo, but we can follow the coastline on the unofficial path.”

“Which way will you go?”

“I’m going along the coastline, because it will rain today, and the beach towns will likely have more café/bars to duck into when it rains.”

My logic resonated with them, and we all set forth on the rogue trail, complete with its own rogue signage, teal arrows instead of yellow. 50 meters into the walk, it started to rain. The Frenchmen turned and gave me a thumbs up. Hopefully there will be open bars along the rogue way.

Beer in Heaven?

The walk along this coastline was incredible; long, white sand beaches, mountain islands in the foggy distance, surfers, romantics hand in hand, dog walkers, and the constant rolling of the waves.

At the end of one of the long stretches in the sand, there was a genius graffiti question tagged at the entry of the staircase leading up.

“Is there beer after Death?”

This question fits into my ideas about the efficacy of pilgrimage as a religious ritual. An act of penance or a search for life? Not that the answer to the question of life, the universe, and everything is beer (we all know the answer is 42), but it is a part of the world we live in. The Bible has some pretty interesting things to say about this.

*Author’s note: I’ve had many up close and personal experiences with friends that struggle with alcohol addiction, so I’m not making light of this. The bigger thought is about coming into right relationship with things. I don’t struggle with alcohol addiction but have many other shortcomings that need to be brought into “right relationship.” So do you.

Graffiti asking the important question, Is there beer after death? — *A good question, and I’d like to participate in the discussion!*

95% of the 33,420 steps today were along the coastline!

The Quest for Perpetual Entertainment

For your information, there were plenty of café/bars along the rogue Way, including a McDonald’s and a Burger King. I’m not gonna lie, I was tempted by that #1 Value Meal at the Golden Arches. The rainy walk along the coastline was good…

Then I made it to the outskirts of Vigo, a port city of about 300,000 people. It was reminiscent of that labored walk into Porto, traffic speeding by the crowds of people on narrow sidewalks. There were no chihuahuas or near tetanus incidents, though. Those were replaced by a steady rain through the long industrial streets of the city.

As I walked, my thoughts turned to the need for perpetual entertainment, the need to always be stunned by beautiful places, the tastes of delicious food, to be surrounded by the best people, to always be comfortable. I like good things (including beer!), but most of my growth as a human has come from powering through the unpleasant things of life. I don’t intentionally seek out the unpleasant, but I don’t want to shy away from them either. That’s what I like about the Ways to Santiago:

There are places that are stunningly beautiful, and other places, not so much.
There is delicious food to eat, but sometimes you have to settle for a tortilla española that has been sitting on the bar’s countertop all day.
There are many wonderful people, kindred spirits, all around you, but there are also a few jerks – loud, obnoxious, selfish, or fear-mongers.
There are comfortable places to take rest, but there are also places with no blankets, and with loud snorers or bed bugs, or both.

In that moment, the struggles aren’t fun. But in the end, they are a part of the monolith of a wonderful experience.

One of the lessons I’ve learned on this walk came from trying to apply the quote of WH Hudson above and a teaching of Jesus. Two of the Gospels record Jesus’ first teaching as:

“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.”

If you are walking the streets of San Antonio, NYC, or Vigo and you pass by a man shouting into a megaphone, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near!”, it has a basis in fear. Confess and reject your sins (like drinking too much craft beer) because Jesus is coming soon, maybe within the next few days according to some social media. Turn or burn.

Repent is not a word of sin, grief, shame, or penance in the way applied by the screaming street preacher. It basically means to change the way you look at the world. And near doesn’t mean nearness of time, it means nearness of space. That’s a huge difference.

It’s as if Jesus is saying:

“Open your eyes! The kingdom of heaven is close enough to reach out and grab!”

What does this look like walking through a busy, industrial port city?

Gratitude for having the opportunity to walk in a new place.
Sharing coffee with a drenched fellow pilgrim and African immigrants taking a work break at a bar coincidentally called, “Bar Almas Perdidas.” (Lost Souls)
Walking in hope of the comfortable hotel I had booked for this night.
The hospitality of the hotel staff.
The hospitality of the young Hondureña server and her eagerness to serve my hamburger, gigantic plate of fries, and a Riojan wine.

It’s always near, even when we’re fooled into thinking it’s not.