Today was a slog through the most appallingly deplorable quagmire of shit imaginable. For twenty five kilometers we marched through a river of mud so deep it submerged my boots, while simultaneously battered by a torrential downpour of rain and hail whipped by winds so strong they gave each of us a temporary facelift. At one point, after about five hours, I turned around and looked at my travel companion and just screamed. In the words of my British friend Mark, “Shitty death, this is awful.” And indeed it was.<\/p>\n
But lo, there was light at the end of the tunnel. In a small village five kilometers away from my destination stood four of my classmates, full of hugs and smiles in the middle of that heinous wasteland of watery death. Aaron, Evan, Jackaon, and Cecelia accompanied me for five kilometers and listened as I word-vomited stories from the last two weeks of walking. And as we arrived in Fromista they faded into the distance while I stayed behind with my Camino companions. We checked into an albergue and I translated the tirade of rapid, stern Spanish coming from the proprietor. Finally in a warm, dry room I took off my drenched clothing with this woman still talking at me. Add to lessons learned so far: when you are the only one of the group that speaks Spanish, you will be the one yelled at for the errors of anyone in your group. I stepped into the bathroom with her voice still running but I could no longer register it.<\/p>\n
There it was: the shower. With a knob that didn’t have to be pressed every ten seconds, it was already the most appealing thing I’d seen in days. My skin was covered in goosebumps from the cold, wet hell we’d just traversed, and I was shaking. When I turned it on I knew it was the one. It was love at first touch: the water was scalding. As I stepped in I think I actually made a rather raunchy noise; the Spanish lady probably left me alone at that point but I was too distracted to notice. I turned the water past the point of hot, until it was painful, and then just a bit hotter than that. Oh my god. I couldn’t even care if my skin blistered and burned, I still wouldn’t have wanted it any cooler. I hadn’t washed my hair in eight days and today was finally the day. I carefully measured the shampoo in my palm, cupped carefully so as not to spill a single precious drop. Putting it on my hair I closed my eyes and remembered sitting with Jim and watching videos of his eldest son’s Greek Orthodox baptism; olive oil carefully poured over the crying infant’s head. In all the Camino I hadn’t had an experience as religious as this one.\u00a0 Leaving that shower I was cleansed of every sin, every horror of the day.<\/p>\n
I think I might take another one later.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Today was a slog through the most appallingly deplorable quagmire of shit imaginable. For twenty five kilometers we marched through a river of mud so deep it submerged my boots, while simultaneously battered by a torrential downpour of rain and hail whipped by winds so strong they gave each of us a temporary facelift. At […] Continue reading