The Western Wall

I’ve been home from my pilgrimage long enough to distill my
impressions of what I saw in Israel, to race my mountain bike a couple of
times, and to get over the bug I brought home in my small intestine.  To be very frank, I didn’t have a solid stool
for over a week, even though I drank nothing but bottled water (and minty
lemonade).  I blame it on the poor hygiene
standards of the street food vendors who sell the best made-to-order falafel in
the world. 

Spending a week in Israel after a week in Spain is like
washing down your milk with a shot of hot sauce—I did it backwards.  We went from the slow, humane pace of bicycle
touring to the furious and frenetic pace of traffic in Tel Aviv.  But with a little luck and perhaps a bit of
Providence these pilgrims made it to the Old City of Jerusalem.   

I wasted no time in setting out for the Trifecta of holy
sites of the Abrahamic religions.  First
up was the Western Wall, the holiest site in Judaism, in spite of the fact that
the wall is nothing more than a retaining wall, which is emblematic of my
impression of the Jews there—very practical and very casual.  They had yarmulkes available for Gentiles and
forgetful Jews to cover their heads with in order that the fear of heaven  might
be upon me as I approached the wall. 
What struck me most about stepping up to that wall was not the little
notes to God stuck in the cracks between every block, nor was it the intensity
with which the Orthodox men prayed, and swayed at the wall—which reminded me of
the Spinners, or members of the Church of Unlimited Devotion, who used to spin
and sway at Grateful Dead concerts. 

 What struck me most was the casual attitude with which these
people behaved in a place they consider so holy.  I saw men snapping photos of toddlers
fumbling against the wall, other men took video of some of the swaying orthodox,
another young orthodox man was asked by a secular man to take his photo at the
wall.  Then there were the bar mitzvahs,
about five of which were going on the day I was there.  There was singing, dancing, praying going on
everywhere, and women, who have their own separate section at the Wall, threw
candy over the fence at all the children on the men’s side.  Meanwhile, there were young Israeli defense forces toting machine guns everywhere, reminding everybody how tenuous the Jewish presence in Jerusalem is.  There was no judgment of who was holier than
whom, everybody was accepted, and everybody seemed comfortable in their own
skin.  They didn't care that a Gentile like me was standing next to them listening and taking photographs.  I couldn’t imagine some of the
holy places back home ever having such a comfortable, welcoming atmosphere.  

I liked the Western Wall so much we visited
it twice.  

<EM>Santiago de Compostela</EM>

We made it to Santiago de Compostela a couple of days ago.  Honestly, arriving at the cathedral holding the remains of St. James was a little underwhelming.  Maybe it's because I'm a bad Catholic, (due in part to the fact that I'm not Catholic), or maybe it was because the final 10 kilometers were through the industrial part of town and then through a congested city.  Those certainly contributed, but I think the real reason I was nonplussed was that all of the pleasure of the pilgrimage was in the journey, not in arriving at the destination.  I'm already scheming of a return trip to do more of el Camino.

We arrived the cathedral just in time for the lighting of the botafumera during the Pilgrims' Mass.  The botafumera is a giant (5 ft tall) incense burner that they swing back and forth across the cathedral at the end of the Mass.  If the rope it hangs from were to break it would certainly kill a few people.  While it has it's spiritual meanings, it's size is attributed to it's effectiveness at masking the odor of all of those stinky pilgrims gathered in the pews.  It worked quite well at that, but only for a little while.  
 

Our final stop out of town was at the Pilgrims' office where we could get our final Credencials to prove we'd made it all the way.  They were very serious about the affair, closely inspecting each stamp in our passports and asking us where we started, how much of it was done by bicycle, where we stayed, etc.  I sweat more during the interview than during the ride.   

Our pilgrim days aren't over yet.  Next we're off to where it all began for more two-weeled pilgriming.  Since we were going to Jerusalem I asked the priest at the cathedral in Santiago if he wanted me to take James' remains back to where they came from.  I don't think he understood me because he got really mad and told me to get out of there.   Must have been a language barrier. 

 

 

What is Your Santiago?

 
People make pilgrimages for many reasons.  Most of the pilgrims I have seen on el Camino de Santiago appera to be seeking adventure in one of its many forms.  And Camaraderie.  And Spanish vino.  The latter are easy to spot.  Other pilgrims travel to Santiago for personal reasons.  For strength, for wisdom, for answers.   Still others travel for spiritual enlightenment, to be cleansed of sin or to know God.  Today I saw a well-travelled peregrino walking toward me on the trail--away from Santiago de Compostela.  that is the way pilgrims of old did it, those that survived anyway.  They would walk out their front door, walk to Santiago and then, presumably having found what they were looking for,  turn around and walk back home.  

What were they searching for?  God?  Forgiveness?  Knowledge?  Whatever it was, it must have been valuable enough for them to leave their homes, their families, their farms and their livelihoods, and risk their lives in hopes of finding it.   

And the modern day pilgrim?  They share with the medieval pilgrims a desire to see Santiago.   I asked Mags what she was searching for.  What is her Santiago?  Reminding me that this whole pilgrimage thing was my idea, she said she was here seeking experiences.  There's nothing wrong with that, I suppose, but imagine taking the same approach to life--"Well, I'll just plod along and see what happens."  No sir, a successful pilgrimage should begin with an end in mind.

So what is the end I have in mind, you ask?  What is my Santiago?   It's spiritual and for that reason I won't say exactly, but my Santiago involves strengthening some of the most important relationships in my life.  I can feel that strength growing with every pedal stroke.  Isn't it peculiar how our inner self grows strongest when we weaken our physical self?  

And what about you, Pilgrim?  What is your Santiago?  

Pilgrims´ Progress

 

Many have said a modest person is one who could carry all their important possessions in a backpack, or in my case, a set of panniers. The last few days have convinced me it was a pilgrim who said that first. I also carry a set of panniers on my pilgrimage of life. Sometimes I add things or carry them just becasue. It could be what other people think of me, for others, it could be a consuming lifestyle that´s out of control. Like all heavy loads, there comes a time when so much weight keeps me from moving forward. That´s why I sometimes like to stop and ask myself if I´m carrying around burdens that I don´t need. What do I have in my panniers that I don´t need. 

There are of course burdens I can load into my panniers that don´t weigh me down.  In fact, they can even make my load seem lighter.  I´m speaking of memories, and today I thought I share a few of mine from the past couple of days on el Camino. 

First is the four American girls sitting next to me here in this internet cafe.  They´re printing off fake IDs so they can go out clubbing.  I wish I had my camera with me, I´d send a photo to their daddys. 

Next is the priest we met along the way who stamped our credencials.  He called us ¨eagles soaring to Santiago. and told us if we asked Santiago when we get to the cathedrial we could get any blessing we desired.  Then there was German pilgrim who helped Mags lift her bike three times over a rock wall because the trail between the walls was too muddy. 

 
There are all the pilgrims I see each night walking so gingerly because of sore legs, blistered feet and aching backs.  The albergues where we stay the night all smell like Ben Gay and stinky Europeans.  Incidently, I should say that most of my experience with Europeans has been in hostels, so you´ll forgive me for thinking they all stink all the time. 

At one albergue the hostess asked if we were married before she would let us have a private room.  She was a sweetheart.  Another host at our first albergue gave us his dinner because we arrived too late to buy something from the cafe in town.  He saw that we were going to bed hungry and brought out his own dinner for us.  Muchas gracias Igor. 

Last is a memory of regret.  In some ways I feel like we´re going too fast on this pilgrimage.  The way all of our physical needs are met by the albergues and the pilgrim restaurants, it allows us to meditate and think of the meaning of our pilgrimage.  But we´ll be finished soon, and I sometimes think I´ve loaded too much unecessary stuff into my panniers to unload it all before we arrive in Santiago de Compestela.  

The Story of <em>el Camino de Santiago</em>

ASTORGA, SPAIN.  According to Christian history, James (Santiago in
Spanish) the apostle, traveled to Galacia, in what is now northwestern
Spain after Jesus´ death to preach Christ´s message.  Greeted with
little success, James returned to Jerusalem where he was summarily beheaded. 
Legend has it that his remains were returned to Galacia for their final
resting place.  

Fast forward about eight centuries to a Christian hermit wandering
around Galacia, doing whatever it is that hermits do.  He witnesses a
compostela or field of stars (a meteor shower perhaps?) and takes
refuge in a cave where he discovers some headless human remains.  He
then chats with the local Catholic Bishop who confirms that those
remains are indeed the remians of the Apostle James.  That is how the
pilgirmage to the field of stars of Saint James, or Santiago de
Compestela began. 


During the middle ages millions and millions of Christians made
pilgrimages to Santiago de Compostela.  It was the third most
important pilgrimage in Christendom, behind Jerusalem, which was often
too dangerous, and Rome, which I imagine was a little too close to the
beehive for most worker bees to want to visit.  Prudent
would-be-pilgrims woud save those two destinations for when they had
some serious sins to walk off, but for lesser indescretions Santiago de
Compestela was pilgrimage enough. 




Popularity of the pilgrimage diminished in the 17th and 18th
centuries, but not before the Way of St. James, or Camino de Santiago
was permanently (and literally) etched into the terrain of northern
Spain, and not before the benevelence of Santiago was etched into the
psyches of all Spainiards.  He is said to have appeared numerous times
at the height of battle to turn the tide in the favor of the Christians
in their reconquest of Spain from the Moors.  That is why James is
sometimes called Santiago de Matamoros (James the Moor Slayer) and why
Santiago is the patron saint of all of Spain. 




 In the past couple of decades the popularity of pilgrimages to
Santiago de Compestela has soared again.  Perhaps due to a
general disatisfaction with the secularism that has spread across europe
for the past few decades, or perhaps because Europeans needed a grand
adventure like that was closer to home.  I suspect it is both. 


Mags and I started our pilgrimage on el Camino in Astorga, about 250
km from Santiago de Compestela.  Tornado warnings in Dallas led to a
cancelled flight out of Salt Lake and ultimately to our arriving in
Astorga 24 hours later than we´d planned.  They also Caused us 15 hour
layover in Newark, NJ (One hour is all anyone really needs to fully
experience Newark) for which getting bumped to first class for our
flight across the Atlantic was little consolation. 



I´ll have more to say about this tomorrow, but for now I´ll repeat
what I´ve said in the past, that there is no better way to see a new
place than by bicycle, and that long distance touring is the highest and
best use of a bicycle.  The people along el Camino are very friendly
toward peregrinos (pilgrims), probably because in some towns el Camino is
all they have going for it, economically speaking.  It´s a strngth in
numbers thing, because this pilgirm isn´t blowing a lot of euros on this
trip.  Last night we stayed at an albeurgue, a hostel for pilgrims, for
only 9 euros.  That´s not 9 euros each, but 9 euros for both of us. 
And dinner tonight was, from the ¨special pricing for pilgrims¨ menu, less than 20 euros for both of us, and most importantly, the portions
were more than enough for a pilgrim sized appetite. 

More manana.  Buen Camino!

Pilgrim's Prayer

God, You called your servant Abraham from Ur in Chaldea, watching
over him in all his wanderings, and guided the Hebrew people as they crossed
the desert.  Guard these your children
who, for the lover of your Name, make a pilgrimage to Compostela.  Be their companion on the way, their guide at
the crossroads, their strength in weariness, their defense in dangers, their
shelter on the path, their shade in the heat, their light in the darkness,
their comfort in discouragement, and the firmness of their intentions; that
through your guidance, they may arrive safely at the end of their journey and,
enriched with grace and virtue, may return to their homes filled with salutary
and lasting joy. 

    -Codex Calixtinus- 12^th Century  

<em> Buen Camino</em>

I don't normally get excited about a new bike, probably because I tend to break my mountain bike frame every year, but this new bike has me absolutely giddy. 

Why? Because it can do this:

 

and this: 

 

and this:

  

So I can do this:

 

Check back soon for posts from along The Way.