Estoy aqui, aqui estoy
The goodbyes lasted three days. I made it to Santiago on 15th July, walking over 95 kilometres in the last three days of the walk. Why did I push myself? Most of my friends were a day ahead of me because of a rest day I had taken in Ponferrada to rest my weary body and attend the annual ‘Templar Noches’ or the Templar Night festival. The realisation dawned on me that after weeks of walking with people who seemed like I’d known them for a lifetime, we’d soon go on our separate ways. I wanted all the time I could get with them.
Apart from the blisters on my feet, I had tendonitis in my left ankle and a muscle spasm above the calves on my right leg. The fact that I walked 44, 30 and 22 kilometres, respectively, over three days (armed with compression sleeves, pain meds and anti-inflammatory ointments) should tell you how much my friends on the Camino meant to me.
There was a downpour unlike any I had seen on the Camino on the day I was to reach Santiago. It was as if the skies were mourning the end of this beautiful journey while I felt numb. As I walked, I remembered the conversations I had had over the last five weeks as they flowed through my mind. In the rain, with my thoughts, I started walking and barely stopped for the first 17 kilometres - only once to get a stamp on my credential from a man sitting under a tarp and offering stamps to pilgrims for a donation.
Around 5 kilometres before Santiago, Nadia walked up from behind me. She told me that she felt emotional that I was wearing traditional Indian clothes for the day I was to arrive in Santiago. I looked at her quizzically and tried to determine whether this was some prank, but she seemed serious. Then I realised she had mistook my raincoat and a sweater I had tied around my neck for the traditional kurta-pajama. After a hearty laugh at her misunderstanding (and wishing I had indeed carried some traditional clothes), we started walking the final stretch together, discussing how we felt.
Cyrielle had reached Santiago one day before and was waiting outside the Cathedral as we walked in, greeted by the bagpipes played by a musician. I had a very anticlimactic feeling when I looked at the cathedral, but I felt happy and grateful for Cyrielle’s warm reception. After the customary photographs, she led us to the pilgrim’s office, where we could collect our Compostela, a document that states that we had finished the pilgrimage.
Soon after that, I met other friends I hadn’t seen for a few days in the Cathedral Square—Anne, Gisseppe, Simone, Susanna, Georgia, Santiago, Andrea, and others—and we hugged each other like long-lost friends. Despite my tiring walk earlier in the day, instead of heading to the albergue, we hung out on the ‘terrace’ of a mediocre restaurant for hours.
I treated myself to a private room and a vegan dinner and met everyone that night, and we stayed out until the hostel doors shut at 12:30 am. The following two days, I did nothing I had planned - including visiting the Cathedral I had supposedly walked 780 kilometres for! I spent most of the time with people, squeezing in a few more hours and minutes with them before we left Santiago. We had a potluck dinner for all the pilgrims in the hostel kitchen, which ended with a game of Limbo in front of the hostel and a bunch of pilgrims dancing to music from a phone speaker. It was special.
It’s been a few days since I’ve left Santiago. I’ve been missing the Camino and everything it brought into my life. It’s almost like a period of mourning. I know it will pass. Had I not pre-booked my tickets, I would have continued the walk to Finisterre (derived from Latin ‘finis terrae’, meaning ‘end of the earth’), which many pilgrims were doing. I decided to leave the Cathedral visit and walk to Finisterre for another time, hoping to experience the magic of the Camino another time in my life when I needed it, just like I did this time.
