Saturday, September 21
I was up before 5:30am and felt prepared for the start of my Camino. I was not keyed up or apprehensive about the jaunt, but anxious to meet Pat and Mike to begin the journey. I was first to arrive downstairs and when I pushed open the large metal door and peered outside of the pension, I felt like I had been transported to Cincinnati's west end. The tired urban streetscape was dark and bleary with street lamps casting a yellowish glow that revealed the heavy haze hanging in the air. The street was quiet and empty and gave me a feeling of uncertainty as to what might be lurking in the shadows. It's was a chilly morning and as the entry door closed, I wondered if I would need my jacket.
At 7:30am Pat and Mike arrived and we began our walk through the shadowy streets. We definitely needed our torches once we reached the outskirts of town. Although we didn't realize it, we missed the trailhead off a desolate side street. Our misstep became clear when we passed Noni from Australia who was going the opposite direction. Noni was the second pilgrim we encountered that morning and suggested that we were going the wrong way. Michael, a man from Northern California who blindly followed our lead changed direction with us. Gratefully, Noni set us on course and saved our feet some mileage.
As we reached the trail of dirt and rocks, we were greeted enthusiastically by roosters sounding their morning pronouncement. Cock a doodle do, to you too, I thought. The air was cool, but because we were moving none of us felt the need to put on our jackets. I picked up a quarter sized stone from the ground and placed it in my pocket as a souvenir to take with me to Santiago. I said goodbye to Sarria and welcomed the light of the morning.
Stopping for coffee, I talked with Anne from Colorado, who Pat and I had seen earlier hunched over and hobbling along the trail. Pat commented that watching her struggle made him wonder the reason for her camino. She moved slowly, but appeared so determined. Did she loose her husband or a child, we wondered? Anne was walking solo and appeared to be 50-60ish. Her hair was in pig tails and her skin and facial features were distinctively American Indian. Close up Anne looked much younger. She told me she was originally from Minnesota and was a hiker. Her legs were hurting badly, but she said with confidence that she would make it to Santiago.
Pat introduced Mike and I to Pablo, a 20 something Spanish guy from Seville. Pablo is accompanying his parents Michael and Maria on the Camino. He said he is along to keep them on the straight and narrow. Pablo is university educated and is working on his MBA. He has spent time in the United States and his English is excellent. Michael and Maria speak little English, so our conversations were full of smiles, hand gestures and translations by Pablo.
Pat introduced Mike and I to Pablo, a 20 something Spanish guy from Seville. Pablo is accompanying his parents Michael and Maria on the Camino. He said he is along to keep them on the straight and narrow. Pablo is university educated and is working on his MBA. He has spent time in the United States and his English is excellent. Michael and Maria speak little English, so our conversations were full of smiles, hand gestures and translations by Pablo.
On the Camino we all carry a booklet that is our credencial del peregrino and will record our travels. We will have it validated in Santiago to qualify for the "compostela", the certificate of completion. Most establishments along the way will stamp our credencial booklet. At least two stamps or sellos are required daily.
Saturday was a lovely afternoon with temperatures in the upper 80's, no humidity and a gentle breeze. By 2:30pm we made it to our destination of Portomarin. We walked a distance of about 22 km and I felt like I did a full day's camino. Mike suggested our first Albergue. It's called the Mirador and was at the top of the hill, just off the trail at the edge of town. We were assigned to a room with three bunk beds. Two of the bottom bunks were already occupied by the Defendis brothers who we learned are graduates of the University of Dayton. What a coincidence, as Mike and Pat are also UD alumni. It's a small world and it became a University of Dayton reunion.
The sun shined brightly on Portomarin as we sat at an umbrella covered table outside the albergue Mirador, sipping cold beers awaiting our lunch order. It was a relaxing afternoon and we were in no hurry for our food. Mike ordered the octopus and Pat and I the cod. When the food arrived, Mike refused to eat the octo tentacles, so Pat and I helped ourselves to the morsels. Life is good, I thought.
Late afternoon I walked a couple blocks towards town and sat atop a stone wall next to a park, making notes on my netbook PC, a lady stopped and said hello. We exchanged niceties and I learned her name is Gabrielle and she is from Auckland, New Zealand. She's a 40 something gregarious lady who started her solo Camino in Pamplona. She was curious if I knew the outcome of the America's Cup. It's the series finals and the Kiwi's are ahead of the American's eight to one. Gabrielle was hoping that I would give her the news that the Kiwi's were victorious. Since I hadn't heard any news for over a week, I wasn't any help.
Pat, Mike and I attended evening mass at Iglesia de San Juan, an unusual Romanesque style church. It's exterior is very boxy and medieval looking. Mass was quite a contrast from the Sunday morning service I attended at the Mezquita in Cordoba in February. There, a half dozen priests and a dozen altar boys officiated. In Portomarin, Saturday mass was celebrated by one solitary priest. No music, no lay help and oddly, no collection. It was all over in about 35 minutes.
I took a top bunk at the Albergue Mirador. It turned out to be a challenge to contend with almost no personal space. There was only one electrical outlet in the room and with six residents and it was always in use. So that evening I went to the lobby to charge my computer and camera batteries. It was lights off at ten in the room, so when I returned at eleven I made my way quietly through the darkness and climbed the ladder to my personal refuge. I fell asleep to a chorus of snores. I stirred frequently through the night and I remember at exactly 3:23am, when I adjusted my pillow, it fell to the bunk below. For a moment I thought I might feel it being lift up to me, but as I waited patiently, all I heard was a murmuring snores from below. I knew then that my pillow was lost for the remainder of the night.