THE FINAL STAGE

ALMOST THERE!

I don't usually walk 20 km before lunch, but on this day, I woke up very early, just before 4.  Even so, my two European room-mates were already on the road.  I set off into the eucalyptus forest just as it was getting light.  These plantations of quick growing wood were started during the Franco era.  They were a bad idea for a couple of reasons.  It turned out the wood wasn't much good for building, and the species replaced the beautiful native oak forests.

There are, on the other hand, two good things about them; they are spookily atmospheric, and they smell wonderful.  Its like taking a lungful of Vicks at every step.  Invigorating.  It was a social morning.  I was soon walking with Australian Emily.  She was a special ed teacher who was wondering whether it was all worth it.  We chatted for a bit about that, and then I saw a cafe I remembered from last time, and suggested we go in for a cafe con leche.  

I'll admit it, I had an ulterior motive.  Last time, I'd been treated to my breakfast by that pack of rowdy Australians I mentioned on the day I saw the slow worm.  I saw this as a chance to pay their kindness forward.  Without telling Emily, I ordered the coffee and a piece of tarta de manzana (apple pastry) for us both, and paid for it.  It felt good to have that debt paid.

On the last leg of the journey, just before Monte de Gozo,  (the Mount of Joy), you pass through lands which belong to the Santiago airport in Lavacolla.  The last time they were a barren sand plain which had been bulldozed to make room for new runways or something.  This time, nature had done its work, and they were covered in bracken with, appropriately, native oaks growing amongst them.  That regeneration brought me tremendous joy.  What had brought me low last time was transmuted into a symbol of hope.  

At Monte de Gozo, where once, in the days before the twentieth century, the pilgrim could see the much desired spires of the cathedral, we saw groups of religious pilgrims unfurling their banners for the final push into town.  According to the stories, when the pilgrims spied the towers for the first time, they would break into a run, and the first one to Santiago was crowned King.  King of what, I wondered?

There was no running for me, but a happy companionable stride with my companera of the day.  We arrived just in time for mass!  My favourite nun was leading the singing, as always.

It was my fifth pilgrim mass.  I was sorry for Emily's sake that they didn't swing the big incense burner, the botafumeiro, but I learned from Maryanne, who had indeed made it to her goal, that except for festivals and high holy days, the censer swung every second day, and I passed that information (which proved to be true) on to Emily.

I also used the opportunity of seeing Maryanne, who was positively glowing with fervent joy, to put in my two cents worth with respect to the way she was living her life.  This is not something I do often or lightly, but I felt moved to do it, so I took a leap off the cliff of commonsense.  

The gist of the message is one which will be familiar to anyone who has seen and loved Ferris Bueller's Day Off.  Who would have thought Charlie Sheen would be anyone's spiritual guide? And yet,  the advice his character has for Ferris's sister at the end of the movie is sound; that other people's shortcomings, and whether or not they were getting away with things, was really not her concern; and that she should be living for herself.

I can't remember how Maryanne reacted at all.  It didn't matter.  I knew that it was my bounden duty to say that to her, and I felt great about it.  I don't think anything could have brought her down in that moment, in any case!