Chapter 4 - El Camino de Amistad

Europe » Spain » Galicia » Santiago de Compostela
January 29th 2013

Published: January 29th 2013

“El Camino de Amistad”

Oct. 2012 -- The Camino de Santiago de Compostela – Camino Frances

A long-time dream of mine to complete the 800km pilgrimage from the border of France and Spain across varied terrain, through ancient townships, vineyards, historical landmarks, and religious markings was to come to fruition. This, thanks in part to my dear Friend Ben Silverman. Ben would like to humbly assume that the casual and natural flow of life brought 10 of us pilgrims together on this incredible journey. I’d like to rightfully give credit to the catalyst of this operation, for it if it weren’t for him, NONE of us would have had the experiences we did; Perhaps other memorable or enlightening experiences, but not those which we shared together. We can’t imagine what would have been, for better or worse, had we been in separate groups, as individuals, or at different times and lengths of travel. All we can do is embrace the beauty of our experiences as the “Magic 10”.

The base and start of our journey was patchwork, as we methodically knitted together the pieces of our international team of pilgrims. The embroidery continued into Pamplona where we had nearly stitched it all together. It was no irony that, from the beginning, we embraced one another as if longtime friends, brothers, and sisters. We were all connected in some way, mostly through our unorthodox ways of thinking and living, our striving for something “greater”, and a general sense that we weren’t alone in this quest. We represented a group of ambitious, curious, and daring individuals. We did not possess them all individually, but as a collective unit, there was an abundance of all. There was much to be learned and appreciated about one another. And so the journey began, on a bus ride from Pamplona to roncesvailles, our starting point…some 800km from Santiago de Compostela. We had lodged in the most beautiful and majestic old castle (or so it seemed to me) which was fully equipped to guide people into the start of their journey, whilst providing a credential to be stamped, and directions to our dorm beds. The fees were minimal for our stay – 5 euro/night, as it was a municipal albergue (Lodge)…but a fine one at that. We slept in semi private dorms with shared bathrooms, in a very well kept interior of the castle. Lights were out at 10pm, and starting at 5am in the morning, the sounds of rustling ziplock bags, backpack zippers, grunts, groans, and cracking ankle joints joined together in a symphony to alert everyone it was time to get on the road, er, the camino. Our bunch trickled out with the last of them, in style of course, and posed for a beautiful picture marking the start of a long adventure.

After a modest 25km hike we were back in Pamplona to stay the night. We happened to get a full dormitory room with bathroom all to ourselves…yep, big mistake Mr Hostel owner. Without managing any property damage or complaints (That we knew of), we managed one of the most rip-roaring, fall-out-of-your-seat, hysterical nights of our lives. We were already on a high from meeting good people and excited about our upcoming trek. Throw in some wine, beer, and a classic game of kings cup into the mix, and the result is a group of grown men and women doubled over in tears laughing, hardly able to catch their breath. The night continued like this until lights out, and beyond. Our next day’s hike began a bit on the late side, to no one’s surprise, but we did crank out an impressive 20+km on the trail. We spent several of the next days hiking together, solo, in pairs, or in tandem with new pilgrims along the way.

These first days gave me a shot of reality about what the camino was to be for me. What I imagined to be a solitary hike through forests, desert, and abandoned towns with little human contact, actually turned out to be a tremendously meaningful social journey for me. Amongst the trusted Magic 10, and even outside of us, there were open-hearted, inspiring people to be found at every turn. It just took listening, and time….two things which you don’t lack on the camino if you do it right.

We either have money or time…what is more valuable? I would argue that time is…its complex, but simple at the same time. We all have experiences throughout our lifetimes, beginning in childhood, which start to shape our lenses through which we see the world. Our choices begin as limited, some more so than others, BUT, Gradually the choices we are entitled to increase. At certain points we are obliged to make decisions about our futures, whether in the short term or in the long term. These decisions set off a new set of circumstances with yet even more choices to be made. The idealist in me feels that if we follow the natural flow of change, and make decisions based on what our hearts are telling us, we’ll never have a shortage of time, our most valuable resource. When we live by the rules of capitalism (consume consume consume), or even of time, we’re restricted, for they don’t actually follow the same rhythm as that of our natural flow. Herein lies the conflict. As long as we attempt to control, accumulate or consume these artificial resources, there will be resistance, abundance, depletion, craving, and aversion. Easier said than done? Actually I think it’s easier done than said. I’m a far shout away from reaching the point I’d like to be at in my life, but without a sense for the pragmatic, and the simple truth that we all hold inside of us, optimism doesn’t exist….so I choose to tread the path, however long it may take, and however many times I may fall.

Benigma

I won’t bother listing off the countless and indescribable experiences we’ve shared together on this month-long journey along the camino de Santiago, or the week in Morocco and the Sahara. Suffice it to say Ben Silverman is my friend, brother, companion, and guru. He’s like “your own, personal, Jesus”, as the song goes. Words cannot describe what an immeasurable influence he has been on my life over the past several years. He has been my right hand, an ear for my convoluted thoughts, a shoulder to cry on, a voice of optimism, a ship unwavering in the seas of emotion, and a giant walking through the desert providing shade to guide and comfort me. I will forever be in awe of this remarkable human being.

Thank you Ben, from the bottom of my heart.

Carlos, the Spaniard –

Ben introduced us on day 2 in Barcelona, and it didn’t take but 10 minutes for him to figure me out. We hit it off right way, spilling out inappropriate insults at one another, and of course, at Ben too. Not to worry, Ben held his own. For the first several days on the camino, Carlos and I didn’t have much chance to really connect, but as the days passed, the opportunities grew. For various reasons, mostly job-related, our magic ten was dwindling, first to 6, then 5, and then 3 – Ben, Carlos, and Me. A few days along as a threesome, our paths diverted… Ben had split up from Carlos and I in Burgos as we were trying to get a ride to Leon. Ben was knackered and stayed behind. Carlos and I continued walking several kilometers more to reach the highway, leaving the lazy Jew behind. We got a ride from a scrubby looking character that had just gotten up from a rough night’s sleep without a shower. He was on his way back home after attending a motorcar show over the weekend. When he picked us up he’d agreed to take us some 30km down the road before he had to turn off. To our good fortune, and to the frustration of our driver, several of the exit ramps were closed. This meant he took us several kilometers ahead to a huge gas station, where we continued our hitchhiking adventure. We contrived a plan to make up big cardboard signs, place them neatly on top of our backpacks with the “Camino Seashell” exposed, in front of the dining table we sat at. We beamed at everyone coming in, showed our signs, and hoped for sympathy. We had nothing better to do, so we got ourselves a couple cartons of sangria and put them to work. Then we were loose. We struck up conversations with strangers, told some jokes, made some gas station buddies, and FINALLY, scored a ride with a long-faced biker looking dude who we called ‘crocodile face” – that’s another story. So we hopped aboard his dark chariot, and were greeted by the sounds of Spanish metal music cutting through the airwaves. What a trip. He dropped us off at the petrol station just outside of Leon, perhaps 80km from where he’d picked us up. We insisted on a photo with him, which turned into a few – (Not to worry, they rightfully took their place in the book of memories). It was dusk as we sat at the side of the road and tried our luck at thumbing for a ride down the final stretch to Leon. No dice, so we hailed a taxi and sucked up the 20 or so euros it cost. We checked into a mediocre looking albergue in town, and were delighted to hear that we did not have a curfew. I felt like I’d just turned 18 again. We were so accustomed to having a lights out, doors closed policy by 10pm that we were giddy with the prospect of being out later. By 10pm, we had accomplished check-in and showers. While I showered, Carlos made a trip to the grocery store to pick up some beverages for the night. He returned with a splendid surprise…Colombian aguardiente! No shot glass? No problem! That’s what the camino seashells are for! Shortly after tapping into our wine and aguardiente, we heard a knock on the door. In came 3 new pilgrim friends from Germany that Carlos picked up on the way in. And thus began our night of unabated revelry. We embraced the city and the people of the night like we belonged there. It was surely one of the best nights out I’ve ever had, so much so that I chased it into the wee hours of the morning, not laying myself to rest until 8 in the morning.

Big Ed –

Ed and I have known each other for nearly a year I’d say, but we never had much of a chance to really get to know each other. One night several weeks before I left on my trip, we talked about my plans to go to Colombia, and that immediately following; I’d be meeting up with everyone in Barcelona for the camino. Ed liked the sound of Colombia, and decided that a pre-camino detour was in order. He flew out to Cali, Colombia to see me and get a taste of the city. He was supposed to bring me something from the US, and when he arrived I asked him for it…he opened hi s backpack and tossed me a box…of maxi pads! HAHAHA! So, we decided to put them to good use by using them on each other (and later others). I placed a few discreetly on his clothes and his backpack, hoping he’d not notice until we were out in public. I never quite succeeded in embarrassing him. However, he got me good when he put a maxi on the soles of each of my shoes…I discovered the first one after almost a full day. And the other, well that took me nearly a week to discover, and by that time the adhesive was so fixed to the inside sole, that it has become an irremovable souvenir.

We spent just short of a week taking salsa lessons with my private instructors, meeting up with friends in town, and getting into trouble wherever we could. We made Ed into a Salsero in just 3 days…seriously the dude has talent! We had great late night discussions and found a lot of common ground. A perfect start to the Camino de Amistad I’d say. We flew out to Spain on separate flights just a few hours apart. Our momentum picked right up again once we hit the hostel, and as soon as Ben and Carlos joined the band, it was a shit show for the weekend.

Amie

I met Amie almost a year ago, at a barbecue at Hogan’s house, where Ben lived at the time. Our interaction was very brief, and I can’t say that I knew her at all until the camino. She arrived on the scene in Pamplona with a radiant smile and hugs all around. She melded in perfectly with the Magic Ten. Amie and I instantly clicked, much like we did with the rest of our companions. We had great discussions about unanswered existential questions burning in our minds, laughed hysterically together, and vowed to meet again in Buenos Aires a month later. She is now living there, and coincidentally it was the next stop on my RTW journey. There were only a few short days to spend together on the camino, and they were shared amongst everyone. Hence, it wasn’t until a month later in Argentina that we really had the chance to get to know one another. I was in town, albeit exhausted from the camino and travelling, for 5 days. We spent a good part of a few days together, visiting some of her favorite parts of the city, taking a tango lesson, cooking, and going out to what I considered to be one of the most authentically argentine tango establishments. We instantly clicked like longtime friends, and seemed to come together at a time when each of us was seeking the support that the other was offering. It was the perfect start to my South American travels. Again nearly two months later, on my way out of the continent, we shared two more days together. Each of us having gone through new changes and challenges, we were again there for each other to serve as a stepping stone into the future.

Amongst these relatively intimate experiences with members of the Magic Ten, I made connections with many other inspiring and genuine people along the way. The massage therapist who seemed to speak straight into my soul and heal wounds beyond my aching traps. The crazy Spaniards Carlos and Marcos from the Hostel in Neuquen, who helped orchestrate a most memorable, unexpected, and unimaginably wild night in Santiago. Clark, the honorably discharged navy fighter pilot, who inspired me with his excitement and eagerness to begin his path toward self-discovery. Jitka and Cristina, the lovely ladies who ventured to make their own 2 day camino by sharing the final days of MY camino. I am eternally greatful to all of these people, for providing me with the experiences of a lifetime, and for helping me to grow.

Chapter 4 - El Camino de Amistad

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