Our final day on the actual Camino. Sigh....We slept a little late this morning (til 6:45) as we got in late last night. Late for pilgrims that is- 11:00pm!!. Our final night on the road was spent in a town called Arco do Pino. Its a strip of a town just 13 miles or so outside of Santiago. We made decent time yesterday, and all of us made it into the private albergue before it filled up. We tried to save beds for our Spanish family by paying for them ahead of time, but the hospitalero refused. Luckily, Manu, Andrea and Guillermo were the last three pilgrims admitted. We were so pleased by this. We shared our last meal with our band of brothers. Well sort of. There are so many of us now that no restaurant could possibly fit us all at one table. But since there was only one restaurant up at this end of town, we were all dining virtually ensemble anyway. I guess not many of us wanted the evening to end because there we all were, at the bar after dinner, having another....Who you may ask?
The German hand-holders that I met at the peace prayer in La Faba. This adorable couple was always together. They seemed to be in their early 50's. She a blonde and a tad on the pudgy side. He was short, stocky, balding and hearing impaired (hearing aids in both ears) Both of them with a ready smile. And both of them always arm-in-arm or holding hands. We had a bet that they were newlyweds. Hah! It turns out that they had been together for 14 years. But here's the kicker: they weren't married!!!
Next, "the English". They weren't really English; they were Bavarians. But Alwin had such a kicker of a sense of humor. When they made a major navigational faux-pas in a village a few days back, he explained that it was because "we are English", all in heavily accented German. One of those "had-to-be-there" things, but also a saying that he would repeat until our goodbyes. There are three of them: Alwin and his girlfriend Stefanie, and their friend Jurgen. Jurgen is an amazing carpenter. He fashions houses out of whole timber logs. He showed us some photos of his work. Beautiful. I'll never forget the first time I saw him. He looked so Bavarian. He was wearing big-ass hiking boots, the type that rise way above the ankles. They were made of thick leather and had stiff vibram soles. He also wore a pair of hiking shorts that resembled lederhosen in all but the fabric. They were not made out of leather. On his head, he wore a hat with a feather stuck in it. They only thing not stereotypically Bavarian about him was his build: he was as lean as a thoroughbred- not an ounce of fat on him. He had almost no English, and was shy to boot, so our communication was limited. But you could tell from his smile and his eyes that he was a lovely person and a good friend of Alwin and Stephanie. Who else would be a third wheel for 500 miles?! Stephanie, we figured out after several days, was Alwin's girlfriend. Now maybe the two of them figured that out around the same time as we did, I don't know, but suddenly we noticed a little hand-holding, and close whispering now and again. She was a software engineer, with short-cut hair and big, 80's-style eyeglassses. She loved to laugh and to connect with people. Her English wasn't bad, but I think she deferred to Alwin as he was much more confident in speaking than she was. If you talked to her on her own, she fared just fine.
Kelly. Kelly is a teacher at a private high school in Ohio. SHe's 30ish. She has popped in and out of our lives since Astorga. I think she started there. She is fun, fit, and has an appropriately dry sense of humor for our little crowd. She is a delight to bump into when we do. Always ready to share a glass (or bottle of wine) and chat. She is also impressive in her independence; she finds her way and her walking partners each day it seems.
time they're a group of Spanish guys from Burgos. Mary and I are wondering which one she has "a thing" for! No matter, they all seem very nice. One of them was nicknamed Sid Vicious by Cecelia and Mia. He earned this not because of his temperament; he walks with, and dotes on, a lovely mutt. Nope, despite his piercings and punk appearance, he acquired his moniker solely
from a Sid Vicious t-shirt he apparently wore. I never saw it.
Also burning the "midnight oil" (at 10:30pm!) was Manu. He was buying everyone their last drink. To be honest, I don't remember if I had one. Knowing me I did, but...! Marilyn was there of course, as was Kelly. We were so enjoying ourselves when we suddenly realized, in Cinderella-esque fashion, that it was five minutes to eleven. The albergue locks its door at 23:00! Suddenly all of us are chugging our beers, and not all of it making it into our stomachs, with the dribbling, backwash and snorting. We dash across and up the street just as the hospitalero is closing the door. One by one we squeeze into the foyer. We huddle together, checking to be sure we are all inside. After several hours of beverages and belly laughs we are suddenly forced to whisper; there are pilgrims asleep just a few feet around the corner. This is not an easy task I'll tell you, not with a belly full of beer and the giddiness of your final night upon you! And giddy we were. It was if we were transported back to our college days, sneaking into the dorm or the summer cottage, all liquored up. Kelly has it easy; she got a bed on the first floor. She bids us all goodnight and tiptoes around the corner. The rest of us have to navigate the 20 steps up to the second floor. The place is very airy, with high ceilings and tile floors- all the better to amplify the snickers and chortles. There is very little light, and like all albergues at this hour, there is now an obstacle course of shoes and backpacks and bunkbeds to navigate around in order to reach one's own bed. But then we have to back track this same course because we have to pee and brush our teeth before we retire. This was not seamless or silent, need I add. Again, very sophomoric, but we were enjoying it all!
The three of us, Marilyn, Andrea and I, are finally back from the toilets, getting into our sleeping sheets when suddenly, from out of no where, I have a funk attack. The song "I Believe in Miracles" has jumped into my brain. From where or why, I still have no idea. I lean over towards Marilyn, whom I can barely see through the "curtain" of her drying underwear and socks, and sing " I believe in miracles...where ya from? You sexy thing, sexy thing yow!" We lose it. A chorus of "shhhhhhhs" erupt. We lose it some more. I sing it again. Though this time softer. More snickers. More "shhhhhhs" . More memories. We fall asleep, smiling.
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