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Its not that I am a good christian or even a constant church goer…but there was something about this Spanish mass that moved me. Perhaps it was because I didn’t really understand the words, only the the format, that allowed my spiritual imagination to fill all the empty holes. I was moved and privileged to be there and of course there were moments throughout the singing that I had to lower my head to hide my tears and emotions.

The main priest out of the 8 gave a homily that had the Spanish people laughing at one point, other than that, there was an announcement in English to please not attend for communion if you were not Catholic or you were out of favour with God!

I was probably out of favour with more than God but wild horses would not have stopped me unbuttoning the red cordon and taking my place in the line for communion. I did think when the service ended that that was that but true to form, 8 priests dressed in maroon vestments collected in a circle to light and control the Botafumeiro.

It really really was staggering. They pulled together on the eight pully ropes until the incense burner almost flew right up to the ceilings of the church…and I know the announcement was not to take pictures..!! but me and dozens of others had there mouths open and their phones going whilst the 8 priests seemed just as enthralled and smiling as we were.

It was the end of my journey…or so I thought

What a view this was for a bar…a quick message from Derek and Carol, and I was there…

 

 

 

 

 

It was so chilly that day, maybe because I had been up early, stood for a long time and  dried out after the rain. As our finishing group collected together outside the Cathedral we soon found ourselves inside and later on the main cobbled street Calle Franco enjoying a shared meal. The plate of food below is a picture of their delicacy….which is Octopus!!From left to right…Kevin and Patty from the US, Susan from Melbourne, Me, another Kevin his wife is hidden, Diane (New Brunswick), Carol( Southern England) and Marta,(Ontario)

The restaurant we chose that featured the Octopus was lovely…and warm!

Just before I attempted to visit and see the end of the world, I wanted to remember my 5 Spanish men who were my unknown pacemakers for several of the days. I did see them a few times even though they were faster than me, usually at a bar and stopping for coffee and always at any chapel we passed.

That last evening in Santiago I had wondered into the old quarter to meet with fellow pilgrims and have dinner. It was then when I saw the happy singer strolling with his wife on his arm. He saw me and shouted

“Oh Miss Liverpool!!’

I laughed and indicated to his wife whom I had not seen before that she had not walked the Camino.

“Non, non” she replied and pointed to the other four Spanish men. They all had a wife on their arm now and were proudly walking down by the Cathedral. I couldn’t help myself so I turned to all of them as they waved at me and said,

”Viva L’Espagne” They loved that and we laughed…it was a lovely moment.

My last day was a coach trip to 4 places ending up with the end of the world. The guide was a Camino guide in his early thirties with Rastafarian plaits in his hair tied back the a band. The coach was warm and the front seat gave me fabulous views and at that moment I thought that I had made the right decision.

We pulled up in a beautiful old village called Puente Madeira. In the  Galician morning mist we walked over a stone 13th century bridge. The river below flowed into a weir and an old water mill cottage. We were quite high up and the place was almost immaculate, but like everywhere I had travelled, there seemed to be nobody around, no life going on…where is everyone..and it was then that i saw some pilgrims crossing the bridge and continuing their walk to Muxia.

It hit me like a stone. After 35 walking days I wished it had been me ….walking to the end of the earth….and not on a coach….I felt guilty!!