When Starting at the End is Sometimes 'The Way'
What a near-80-year-old cancer survivor taught me during my very short walk on Spain’s famous pilgrimage route. Plus, links, Zach G., Bleachers, and more!
Twenty-four hours after embarking on the cruise last month, I stood staring up in awe at yet another one of Europe’s great cathedrals, a World Heritage site in Santiago de Compostela, Spain.
I travel often and have lived in Europe, so while Jewish, I’ve seen my fair share of such impressive structures. This one, however, was different. Not just because, with its Baroque bell towers and spires, it was, indeed, a sight to behold. But because of what it represents to the thousands of “pilgrims” who set off each day from some 500 or so miles away, to reach it by foot along the Camino de Santiago or The Way, as the sacred path is known. People partake for reasons big and small, egotistical and altruistic, and, of course (and originally), religious and spiritual: It is said to be the burial site of Saint James the Great, one of Jesus’ apostles.
There I was, in beige jeans and silver Adidas, twirling my just-washed hair while mixed in amongst tourists and wayward wanderers, thinking how much more impressive the cathedral would be if I, too, had been amongst the haggard hikers now stretching their tired legs and airing out their blistered feet on the perimeter of the Plaza del Obradoiro after having trekked many many miles, over many many days.
As a late-in-life hiker myself, it felt strange showing up to Santiago de Compostela without having “arrived” there on foot. I mean, technically I did. But said arrival merely involved my walking 10 minutes from a parking lot where I got off an air-conditioned bus that held two dozen or so retired Americans attempting to hear a local guide talk through one of those mini personal audio devices, which I learned is known as a “whisper” and would prove to be the source of much frustration for the group during the trip.
One of the things that excited me about this cruise to begin with, aside from it being a new professional experience that involved oral storytelling vs. written storytelling, was that in addition to revisiting many places I adore and know well, I’d also get to experience a few new-to-me destinations and participate in one activity that I’d long wanted to. Those included eating the pintxos of San Sebastian, Spain, hearing the bells of Mont Saint-Michel in France, and walking part of the Camino de Santiago, which traverses both countries and Portugal.
Only, I didn’t think I’d arrive at the cathedral before having walked the path that leads to it.
Truth be told, I didn’t even know how to pronounce the city’s region, Galicia (GA-LEE-SEE-AH — you’re welcome!), let alone much about the trail beyond that a) it’s popular, b) runs through three countries, and c) is the subject of a moving film called The Way starring Martin Sheen, which I thought I’d seen, but it turns out, actually, I hadn’t. (“I’ve told you so many times to watch it, and you always told me, ‘Yeah yeah I’ve seen it,’” texted my brother when I told him I was finally watching it recently from the comfort of my couch in Brooklyn. Oops.) There I was, continuing with the unplanned theme of my starting at the end, or in reverse.
See, months before embarkation, all passengers were asked to choose excursions at each port. And while I wasn’t a traditional passenger, in addition to my storytelling duties, I’d also be joining guests during daily outings off-ship, so I had also been given the choice of where to go. (Quelle chance!) For reasons that include my inability to look at a map and truly process a place before being there, I had chosen to visit Santiago de Compostela from our port in Vigo, and then partake in the Camino hike from our port in A Coruña the following day, which would also visit Santiago de Compostela afterwards. (The city is located about 45 minutes inland and nearly equidistant between the two ports.)
So, my first experience with The Way was at the end of it, which led me to question whether I wanted/needed to come back again the next day. I wondered if perhaps I should change my excursion to see the Tower of Hercules instead, the world’s oldest continually functioning lighthouse. After all, this is not necessarily how I envisioned my experience on the Camino. Which is to say, I didn’t really envision it much at all. What was my purpose? Would walking a mere couple of miles of what’s meant to be a life-altering expedition be lost on me?
The answer, dear readers, is no. In fact, I’m so glad I stuck with the otherwise backwards plan, and now I will finally tell you why.
If there’s anything I learned about cruising, it’s that there are a lot of bus rides, and as we boarded the first of many the next day from A Coruña, I met a woman named SK from Bend, Oregon.
“You’re the storyteller!” she said. “Have I got a story for you!”
Intrigued, I twisted my body around to peer at this woman who sat with her straw hat resting in the seat next to her, while her husband, George, sat in the row across. He piped in with a smile: “Oh yes, wait until you hear this!”
She proceeded to tell me that around 15 years ago, at age 65, she embarked on a sort of spiritual journey to walk part of The Way with her college roommate. Months prior, she’d been diagnosed with colon cancer and, as a Presbyterian pastor who also does hospice work, was looking for a miracle cure. With about $15,000 worth of chemo meds strapped to her pack, she and her friend set out with a group that walked 10 miles and then drove 40 miles of the Northern route from Bilbao, eventually ending up at the cathedral.
If you haven’t already deduced, SK is now healthy, and here she was walking a part of that same path with her husband this time—and me, and many others from our group, as well as a few bikers and even some dogs.
I stayed close to SK and George as we followed the yellow arrows on wooden fences and the scallop shells embedded in gold plaques on the ground that directed us as we walked. Her wide-brimmed straw hat blocked out the sun, while a walking stick helped her navigate rocky ground and inclines; all the while, the silver and turquoise scallop charm she’d purchased for herself upon completion of her pilgrimage all those years ago shone around her neck.
While I didn’t have any sort of personal awakening during the all-too-short trek we embarked on that morning, when we arrived back at the cathedral—now having walked alongside this near-80-year-old cancer survivor as she strode hand-in-hand with her devoted husband of 48 years—I was reminded why we travel to begin with, and how short, but also blissfully long, life truly is—or can be if we let it. We seek to learn and feel and transform and to make the most of whatever time we have, wherever we are, whether retracing steps or covering new ground. Whether starting at the beginning, the end, or somewhere in the middle. The act of doing it at all can and should be enough.
As we strode, sometimes in silence, sometimes chatting, the surrounding forest seemed to whisper these reminders with every subtle wind gust. The birdsong and scent of eucalyptus, coupled with cow manure, were a real awakening: life can be sweet, life can be truly shit. And then there was the endearing collective aspect of wishing those we passed a “Buen Camino” — the official greeting of The Way— which not only strengthened my desire to start the Camino, perhaps from the beginning one day; but bolstered my hope for humanity over all.
Even if I’d “spoiled” the wonder of viewing the cathedral first, where most people end, returning to the Plaza for a second time did feel a smidgen more gratifying now that I was wearing proper hiking pants (that I packed for this exact purpose, btw) and had worked up a small sweat. Maybe coming back to the cathedral a third time in the future after a more rigorous journey would be a charm. Maybe I wouldn’t end up there at all, choosing just a portion of the trail. Or maybe this minor effort would be it for me. Sometimes, that’s just the way it is.
Clickable
‘The rise of the QTBAT’ aka ‘Queue to Buy a Treat.’ | Blackbird Spyplane
Skater bois at Costco are ollie-ing their best lives. | The NY Times (gift link)
NYC is aglow in orange — and it’s not just because of the Knicks. | Curbed
On beauty and farming and keeping things real…and grey. | Cool Best Friend
Now AI can sell your house, become an actress, and get you elected? Ugh. Make it stop! | Various/The NY Times (gift links)
‘Where have all the teenagers gone?’ | Air Mail
Help the single ladies! (Should I outsource my love life, too?) | The Strong Buzz
A thoughtful, but very long article no parent to toddlers I know will have time to read, about what toddlers should be watching. | WaPo
In Paris for Roland-Garros? Check out these nearby neighborhoods. | CNT
It’s just semantics…or is it? | The NY Times (gift link)
Watchable: ‘This is a Gardening Show’
I HIGHly recommend watching the new show, aptly titled ‘This is a Gardening Show’ from Zach Galifianakis. You see where I’m going with that? No? OK, it’s a great watch while high. But I also think maybe it’s funny when not high? In fact, maybe you can even watch it with your kids! Hear me out: I can never tell if Zach is doing a bit or his bit is that he himself is funny, but either way, he makes me howl with laughter. Like, can-my-neighbors-hear-me? laughter. This new series is part-comedy, part-education, and just an entertaining watch. In each episode, everyone’s favorite fern lover interviews experts about a specific piece of produce or gardening concept and also interviews kids, which is always hilarious because kids, as we know, ‘say the darndest things.’ I can’t pick a favorite episode because they’re all good. Trust me on this one!
Listenable: ‘everyone for 10 minutes’
As a fairly new Bleachers fan (since last summer’s studio album), I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t get the meaning of their new album title; nor did I know where ‘Els’ was from my favorite new song, ‘Upstairs at Els.’ (Editor’s note: Els = Electric Lady Studio, thanks to OG Bleachers People Laura and Pete for that!) But I’m not ashamed to admit that, as much as I LOVE this album and have listened to it on repeat since its release, I find the cover…strange. What’s Jack doing? Lines on a table? Why is his shirt off? What’s happening? Anyway, I do love the record, though, and I’m even considering venturing to Jersey to see them, which for a Long Island is really something.
Souvenir: Black Light Posters
Last week, I visited The Brant Foundation in the East Village to see Keith Haring’s work, which was on display within the gallery’s four gorgeous floors. While there, I discovered some of the pieces he made for blacklight viewing, which reminded me of high school when I had many-a-black-light poster (and stars on the ceiling, natch).
I’m writing this with tears, Sarah… beautifully written; feels like I’m experiencing it all over again 🙏
I am going to need to know more about those silver sneakers!