Camino Re-cap

Reflections after recovery:

So, I volunteered to do a daily co-blog with Roly on the Camino de Santiago. Given that this is my first post, you know how well that turned out. Huge props to Roly for having the mental energy and wherewithal to keep up with his posts. For my part, at the end of each day, the last thing I wanted to do was write.

Blogging superstar to my left. Recovered from back surgery superstar to my right. And special guest Burrito Gallego.

The end of each day was pretty special though. There was dinner! One of the things I was most looking forward to on this trip was the food. I love food! And the trip delivered! Octopus, lamb, veal, Iberico ham for breakfast every morning (Note: Salted meats before a 14-mile hike is probably a bad idea, but who cares, I had a water bottle!).

But even better than the food was the opportunity to spend quality time with 19 men that I've known for almost 40 years. Some of these I either haven't seen or have only seen sporadically over the last 30. It's nice that we've all been able to stay in touch via the Internet, but no email list or WhatsApp group can replace the experience of sitting out on a chilly Galician evening drinking gallons of wine (also, probably not a great idea between 15-18 mile days!), smoking cigars and just being us. Oh, and introducing our tour guide to Alvarez Guedes, a Cuban National Treasure.

I could re-cap each day, but Roly did a better job than I ever could. On one of our walks I said something that, had I not been on the walk, would have sounded like the stupidest thing ever. "So, the point of this is to just keep walking until you get there" Obvious, right? But most of us have been on road trips in cars, and buses and we all know the feeling of looking at the mile markers and thinking, "We're half way there" or "Only 50 miles to go!" I started the Camino doing that, but after a while, that ceased to be the point. If you're half way there, that means you have another 4 hours of walking ahead of you. Km markers can be disheartening.

But that road-trip mindset started to fade (seriously, it's disheartening). We walked along in various groups. I never saw the same group together throughout, there were no cliques. It was keeping pace with people and sharing the experience with them, and also bonding along the way. I made my way bouncing between various groups as my pace slowed, or got a second wind, etc. And in each encounter, I learned things about these people I've known for 40 years, that I never knew before. What their High School experiences were like in their eyes, what their families were like, what they've done since and what their families are like now. People had amazing stories about their kids, their success stories and their own personal vulnerabilities.

We were all human. And we were all walking. Walking until we got there.

Some highlights from the trip (Names withheld where needed to protect the not-so-innocent. Feel free to claim your misdeeds in the comments)

A once in a lifetime experience: A guy I spent my entire High School life with celebrating a private mass, only for us, in a 1200 year old chapel. Actually, this happened a few times along the way.

Appetizers for our first fancy Spanish meal provided by Burger King. Thanks Cil! If I'd known we were getting steamed vegetables with dinner I would have eaten another Whopper.

Someone left a pair of ladies' underwear at Km 96. The story I built around this discovery is not fit for print. I'm glad the trip earned me an indulgence.

The huge Exorcist-like staircase at the end of Day 1. Emilio summed up all of our feelings best, "Those stairs at the end were 100% unnecessary!"

There is nothing so humbling and satisfying as helping out a brother who's having a hard time of it. Especially because Cubans are stubborn and quitting is not an option, so we help them push through. And again, we learn a lot about them, and ourselves along the way.

Henry Bell has a Scotts-Irish cousin who looks good in Lulu Lemon pants! (Note for wives reading this, this is strictly my own observation and does not reflect the views of Camino management or its sponsors)

Henry Bell needs to have a sit-com. Lewis Black has nothing on an angry Bell!

This fucking guy!

There was a whole incident in which the restaurant in Portomarin had a Che Guevara print hung high over the stairwell leading to the bathroom (I guess if you have to have a Che portrait, the entrance to the shithouse is the most appropriate place for it). In the end, neither an offer of 200 Euros or Emilio's Spiderman impression were successful in obtaining said print for burning. It was fun trying though.

I'm face-timing with Emilio's son. He is proud of his dad.

More on Lulu Lemon yoga pants (conversation while walking up a steep hill behind 3 ladies sporting said pants):
Me: "Boy, those yoga pants provide excellent motivation for walking up steep hills!"
Name Withheld: "Oh, we're on a hill?"

Because the story of Santiago and Northern Spain is intrinsically rooted in the Reconquista, it was good we brought our own Moor with us. And dammit, what a great guy he is.

Inappropriate joke: (After our longest, 18 mile day) I think I understand why King Herod had St. James beheaded! (attribution withheld)

Population of the town of Cortobe, Spain:
Bartender: "Somos ocho con el bobo."
Eddie: "El bobo?"
Bartender: "El Bebe!"

Consequently, Manny Hadad ran a quick campaign and was easily elected Mayor of Cortobe.

The Cortobe Motorcycle Police running security for Mayor Hadad

Conversation at Santiago:
Unnamed 1: "Turn my Camino passport in for me, I'm hanging out with these kids" (referring to a group of 80 year old ladies)
Unnamed 2 (to the ladies): "Quieres que te llamo la policia?"

If we get your name wrong, but it's funny, the wrong name will stick with you forever. Shout out to Bobbi (Francisco) our tour guide.

Me: Man, Bobbi probably thought he was getting a chill assignment walking a bunch of 50-year-old men to Santiago. He probably thought, "awww a bunch of sweet little old men" That couldn't have been any more misleading!
Person I was talking to: *Blank Stare* ... *Blank stare* ... OH! We're the 50 year-old-men in that story!! Holy shit!

The entrance to Santiago ... moving. Rounding a corner to catch the first glimpse of the side of the cathedral, you realize and understand the importance of what you've just done. And you get a quick rush of how you got here, who you're with, what it all means.

I had a separate, very personal rush entering the courtyard in front of the Cathedral. When I was 10, I'd taken a trip to Santiago de Compostela with my parents. We'd stayed at the Parador Hotel that sits perpendicular to the Cathedral on the main courtyard. As I entered I felt the flood of memories coming back, of a special time with my mom and dad. I even laughed at remembering how I'd thrown my mom under the bus when the priest in the confessional asked why it had been so long since my last confession. "My mom never takes me!" Good job 10-year-old Ron!

Special thanks go to Pep for being a beast and organizing this whole show, even after he was put on the disabled list, and even, in one case, furiously coordinating from the emergency room. I'm glad I got to take your place, but I'm sorry that meant you couldn't be with us also.

Also to Eddie Garcia for co-organizing. Everything was exactly as it should be. It was a perfect experience for us all.

And finally, thanks to Gogo for cheerleading from the sidelines. Your jokes and comments really helped us along the way (but dude, why were you awake at 3 int he morning!?!?)

A few more shots: