Saskatchewan Gypsies

It’s spring and thoughts are again turning to the camino and that is a good thing. I have been reading, again, at the Camino Forum, to see what and who and when for others who have a shared passion for the camino. As usual, I have added my own two cents worth (or perhaps less) on a few topics of interest in the process, but even this is more about distraction than anything else.

Do I intend on returning to the Camino, the Chemin de Saint Jacques? Most definitely. There is only the question of when for me to answer. Until then, I must honour the route that I am currently following, an individual trail that unlike the red and white markers of the GR 65, is a trail that is unmarked by markings or by the footsteps of others.

I learned a lesson walking the GR 65 – be present. When I walked, I was lost in other spaces and places within my head. If anything, I was using the Camino as an escape route from being present in my own life. I was hoping that the time and energy would take me away from my inner self and bring me peace in my world. Of course, that was a recipe for disaster. And so by Figeac, the Camino, in no uncertain terms, told me to go home and return only when I was truly ready for the long walk. I had to do some personal work involving following the unmarked trail before I would be ready to submit to following the marked trail of the Chemin de Saint Jacques.

I am getting there, getting closer to the time when I will be ready to put on the mantle of Camino pilgrim and be at one with the trail and those who walk it.

Buen Camino – Bon Chemin!

I slept well. Only my left heel is bothering me this morning. There were ten of us in the gite for the night. Our hosts were kind and fed us well. After breakfast together, I walked alone as I wasn’t ready to walk at the pace of the others. The first stop was at Monistrol d’Allier, a distance of six and a half kilometres. I had coffee then continued on facing a steep climb out of Monistrol. My destination is Saugues.

I stopped for lunch in Le Vernet. Lunch was in an old barn that run by a man in a wheelchair. I met two of the pilgrims who had stayed in the same lodgings last night. It was actually funny as it felt somewhat like a family reunion. Not long after leaving Le Vernet, again continuing on my own, I took a wrong turn. It was obvious to a passing local person that I was on the wrong road. She gave me directions to walk back to the corner about a half-kilometre back the way I came and to turn at the new house. When I got to the corner, I couldn’t find any new house.

It took a few more minutes for me to realise that new was relative in comparison to the other houses. Again, inattention in staying present was causing me grief. Just after Rognac, the walking along the road changed to walking along a rocky trail. From that point on, I had a walking partner, someone who had caught up to me. The remainder of the walk was enjoyable.

There is Internet available in the hostel in Saugues. After a shower and supper, I had a Google Chat with my wife. It was obvious that there were tears being shed on both sides of the connection. I am already considering chucking the whole thing and returning to her.

I had a poor sleep last night. My thoughts raced like ocean waves in a rush to hit land, cresting then disappearing. Each wave brought forth different thoughts and worries. I was actually glad to get out of bed first thing in the morning. I joined others who were heading to the Cathedral for a pilgrim’s church service and pilgrim blessing by the Bishop of Le Puy en Velay. At the end of the service we were given a new pilgrim passport, a rosary, and a pilgrim’s medallion. Before I left the Cathedral, I took a photo from just inside the doorway. Ahead of me was the street we were to follow toward Santiago de Compostela.

I returned to the hostel for breakfast. Finished, I returned to where I had slept to retrieve my backpack. I had forgotten the camera on the table in the dining hall and was going out the door to begin the trek when someone came up to me with my camera. I had been so engrossed with thinking ahead, I forgot to be present. It was becoming a habit of not being present. Yesterday it was the train in Paris, and this morning it was my camera in Le Puy.

I walked with another pilgrim, a tall younger woman who had stayed at the same hostel in Le Puy. We parted ways as she was taking an alternate path just before Ramourouscle, to reach Bains and then continue on. From that point on, I walked alone. My intention was to stop at Montbonnet for the day. However, when I got there, just after one o’clock, nothing was open. I would have to sit around for two hours before I could get a room. So, I decided to walk another eight kilometres to reach St. Privat d’Allier.

I walked 24 kms today. Blisters and heel spur pain are competing with my right hip when it comes to pain. Strangely, the pain felt good.

I am writing this post using my handwritten Journal, a gift from my eldest daughter. I had stopped to record a number of times during the day. I began the day checking for emails and found two from my wife. with walking from the hostel to the Gare de Lyon where I will be catching the first of two trains. The distance walked to the train station was somewhere between five and six kilometres. I had arrived in plenty of time to catch my train, but I somehow made my way to the wrong track and missed it. Thankfully, I was able to catch a later train that would still get me to Le Puy in time to register as a pilgrim.

By eight in the evening, I had arrived, registered for the pilgrimage, and checked into my hostel for the night. I had booked this hostel before leaving Canada, as I had the hostel in Paris. From here on in, I will find lodgings along the way. My foot hurts and I wonder if I can do this, if my body can do this. So many doubts are washing over me. Yet, I knew that there is no way that I would quit before I even started.

I didn’t take many photos in Le Puy because of my late arrival time in this city.

It’s 5:30 pm Paris time. I have just returned to the hostel after several hours of wandering through the city. I had registered at the hostel at noon and was able to leave my backpack in storage until I was able to access my room for the night. I took my camera and important papers with me while I did the first part of my pilgrimage. I walked from the hostel near the Basilique Sacre Coeur to the Cathédrale Notre Dame where I got my pilgrim passport stamped. I stopped for a while in the Cathedral and sat in a pew. It was my first moment of sitting still since leaving the plane early this morning. This is real, I am really in Paris and doing this. And unexpectantly, silent tears coursed down my cheeks. Were they tears of joy or tears of missing my life at home. I had left the known for the unknown.

I had already received my first stamp at the hostel. On the way to the Cathedral, I passed by the Tour St. Jacques, the site where most pilgrimages from Paris began. From the Cathedral, I crossed the Seine River to walk down Rue St. Jacques. I had mentally transported myself to sometime in the middle ages when going on a pilgrimage was a common event, following in the footsteps of the many who had walked this way before. I reached the Église St. Jacques de Haut Pas where once again, I got my passport stamped. And then I retraced my way back to the hostel Le Village.

Just before I logged on to write this post, I checked my email to find one from my wife. Her email gave me a smile. Tomorrow I will be leaving Paris to reach Le Puy en Velay where I will officially begin the pilgrimage. I need a good sleep as I couldn’t sleep on the plane and had poor sleeps for a few days before leaving Canada. A final note, I somehow got a blister walking down the hot streets of Paris.

It’s 12:05 pm and I am waiting for my plane at the Saskatoon airport. Though I have been preparing for this day for more than two months, it doesn’t quite compute that this is actually happening. Perhaps it will make an impact upon me when I land in Paris and take the RER into the centre of the city. Right now, I am a combination of sad and numb. I barely held it all together when I said goodbye to my wife just a short while ago. Tears fell and I had to resort to some deep breathing in order to regain control.

I am making this pilgrimage alone. Other than the occasional conference or extended stays away from home for psychoanalysis, I haven’t done anything alone for over forty years. Two weeks ago we had a family reunion in our home and had the obligatory photo taken to mark the event. During the reunion, I tried to explain why I needed to go on this pilgrimage. My children accepted my choice without exception, but their spouses were confused. I don’t blame them. Even I don’t really understand why I got this call to go on a pilgrimage. All I know is that I must answer the call.

It’s my birthday. I am finally at home. I have given up continuing my psychoanalysis as I believe it is trying to take me into a direction that I don’t want. I don’t want to give up on my marriage and my life at home. I have made this decision, and with it, the decision to follow through on a plan to walk the Camino.

In the late spring, I watched a movie about the Camino de Santiago. It was as if I was being called to walk my own Camino. My weight had ballooned, as had my blood pressure since my relocation to Calgary for analysis. The call was the inspiration I needed to get out of a lethargic state and begin taking care of myself. I ate better, walked, and bought new shoes, a backpack [Vaude] and a few hiking shorts, pants, shirts, and socks. My wife knew of my intentions and supported me as she saw that I was regaining control, something that had been lost with leaving the university in China.

I turned 63 today.

Last night we went to China Dinosaur Park with two families of kids that Maureen teaches private English lessons.  When we got there, we saw Halloween more along the lines of what we would expect in Canada.  The place was swarming with college kids and some families with a good percentage of them in costume for Halloween.  Of course it was all about rides, a Haunted House and food stands as one would expect, and dozens of little kiosks selling Halloween stuff.

Maureen and the parents went in to the haunted house while I kept the two kids occupied, not a difficult task at all, as they were not allowed into the haunted house.  When Maureen and adults finally emerged, she said it was a good thing they weren’t allowed as it definitely was the scariest huanted house she has ever been in.

The changes at Dinosaur Park are significant.  Complete new areas are developed so that they would complement any prehistoric setting, complete with Orcs and all.