What does it mean to be a true pilgrim in the modern world?
Does the use of guidebooks and google maps invalidate my experience, or make it more personally authentic?
The constant barrage of pilgrims and tourist traps has begun to overwhelms us, but it makes me wonder whether we’re merely part of the herd.
Does traveling as a student take away the sincerity of my pilgrimage, or make it stronger?
Does my lack of religious influence invalidate my journey to Santiago?
What about the “ancient pilgrim path to Santiago” is still ancient, symbolic or “true”?
Is it wrong that I’ve come to realize that I no longer care about receiving my compostela or arriving at the Catedral de Santiago?
Is it acceptable to instead look forward to the symbolic ending of Finnesterre?
Could I have had these same realizations walking across the United States, or did the community and history of El Camino truly alter my experience?
These are a few of the major questions I’ve been asking myself as we approach Santiago de Compostela.
The stamps on my credentials mean more to me than anything, the compostela is merely a validation of walking that I do not require. In my heart and mind I know where my Camino began and how far I’ve come, do I need something more to prove it to others? As I reflect upon my experiences in my journal and on my blog I realize more and more every day that these last 200 km somehow have less meaning to me than all the others. Coming from an alternate route and meeting up with the Francés made it abundantly clear to me that I do not enjoy the heavily touristic quality of the end of the route nearly as much as the solitude leading up to it. A huge amount of small, local businesses along the Francés have crumbled with many tourist-trap cafes, hotels, pilgrim-shops and superstores moving in to cater to a growing quantity of pilgrims. Many locals have begun to seem more resentful than welcoming as I watch other pilgrims disrespect the route, which leaves me wondering whether I’m disrespecting it as well. There is graffiti on at least half of the beautiful ancient structures that we pass along the way, cigarette butts and other trash dotting the path and pilgrims complaining the entire way about the lack of amenities in a 5€ albergue. It seems that these people and these towns have given everything they have to pilgrims who literally walk right over them. Petrus, a tai-kwon-do master and incredible artist turned hospitelero from the abandoned, suburban town of Cirueña gave us the first real taste of the reality of the modern Camino. With a new albergue offering more amenities for a lower price half a kilometer away, the Virgen de Guadelupe albergue saw gradually less pilgrims every day. Every other business in town had been shut down throughout the recession, and the last chance he had to travel into Burgos to gather food and supplies his modest home was robbed and vandalized. He gardened, painted, sculpted and cared for dogs in order to pass the time until he could pass the torch on, only to realize after about 7 years that nobody was willing to carry it. His dreams of traveling the world disintegrated as he came to realize that all of his hard work would crumble as soon as he left. John Brierly’s guidebook has a large amount of helpful information but also manages to disrespect many aspects of El Camino by disregarding important places such as the Virgen de Guadelupe albergue. He gives no information about the beauty and history of this incredibly interesting place, instead overshadowing it’s importance by writing details only about the economic crisis, the exclusive golf club and the newly built albergue nearby. Many of the towns between stages in the guidebook are blown through and overlooked as pilgrims insist on challenging themselves and others to go faster, farther and push harder. We’ve overlooked certain hostels and albergues with preferable locations or historical significance, opting instead for others that he claims “include all the amenities.” From experience we now know that “included” often means that meals, blankets, entrance to (attached or nearby) churches or cathedrals and laundry services are additional costs and can be very expensive. “Kitchen” often means that there are only countertops, a sink and maybe a microwave (the occasional stovetop and oven are always greatly appreciated). The Benedictine nuns at the albergue Santa Maria de Carbajal who were written to “maintain a degree of peace” were surprisingly rude at times. I made my greatest effort to speak with them in Spanish and exude respect, but each time that I made an effort to ask for help (like figuring out which of the unmarked rooms was the one designated for couples) they would be standoffish with me as though I had wronged them somehow. It almost seemed as though they were waiting for me to make a mistake so that they could shame or snap at me. It made me incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe I had merely built up the expectation that these nuns would be “peaceful” from what I’d read in the guidebook when in reality I should have had no expectations at all. Maybe my experience staying with the kind, gentle nuns at Espiritu Santo in Carrión De Los Condes had created expectations of a similar treatment, making the loud, straightforward nuns in León seem more cranky than they truly were. Maybe they’d just been having a bad day, or maybe my mindset was being projected onto them. Either way, I’ve found that stepping back from the recommendations in the guidebook has been much more helpful than attempting to follow it to the T. Maybe that’s the way I need to walk the Francés, by pulling away from the recommendations and arrows and allowing myself to find my way to Santiago on my own terms.
From here we will be camping, attempting to take a step back from what is expected and commonly done along the Camino and instead follow our hearts. Yesterday we chose to take the alternative route into Astorga. Taking our time to walk, sit in the shade of the trees and just enjoy ourselves made us realize how caught up in everyone else we’d become. It’s my pilgrimage, it’s Hunter’s pilgrimage, it’s our pilgrimage as companions. No other pilgrim, hospitelero, local, friend or stranger can take that power and authenticity away from us, and absolutely nobody has a right to judge us. I feel more widely accepted than ever before, making it clear to others how much I welcome and appreciate their company, but it’s time for me to take a step back and allow the love and acceptance to find it’s way to me (or not, however it may be). With faith, a couple good books and a great Swiss-Army-style knife I’m ready to camp!
