I wake up to a cloudy day in Oviedo, ready to begin the camino. After printing off some information on the route, the owner of the cybercafe hands me the papers and tells me to get ready for a wet walk. I laugh it off and walk out of the overcast city. Twenty minutes later, I find myself heading onto a freeway towards oncoming traffic and admit defeat. I never have been good with maps. Turning around, I re-enter the city and walk towards someone who can point me in the right direction. I see a nun nearby, and not only does she give me directions, the dear sister walks me to a nearby tourist office informing me that I need to get my pilgrim passport. I’d read about this, but didn’t see a real need to have a piece of paper from a tourism office to validate my experience. I thank the nun and get information and a fairly beautiful phamplet to fill with stamps from cities along the way. On the front, there’s a quote that reads:
El que va a Santiago
y no va al Salvador
visita al criado
y deja al Señor.
It translates to: One that goes to Santiago, and not to Salvador, (the cathedral) visits the servant, but forgets the master. I pass the cathedral and, two hours later, make my way out of the city. I soon realize the reason I was lost at first and am glad to be on the right path.
I have a dinner of Spanish tortilla, or tortilla, as it is simply called here. Made up of scrambled eggs and potatoes, it’s my old comfort food. Wedged into a baguette, it makes what the Spanish call anything wedged into a baguette, a “bocadillo.” In high school, we had a sort of ‘recess’ for big kids at around 11. Every day, my “madre” would leave €1.10 by the door for me so I could buy one from Begoña, the cantina lady. I remember timidly approaching her on the first day asking what she recommended. Grinning a wide grin and without a word, she handed me my very first bocadillo tortilla.
Munching hungrily, my first day has worn me out. I don’t believe I’ve ever walked so much in a day, clocking in well over 20 kilometers.Trudging uphill, I am awarded with breath-taking views over the valleys below as mountain goats and cows become my only company. Earlier, however, when the path forked and I began to question which direction to go, a man holding a razor and small tarnished hand mirror seemed to pop out of nowhere pointing towards the correct path. I encounter my second human being along the way towards the end of the day in a small village at a bar that also serves as a home and stop to rest my feet that are beginning to blister slightly. The woman is kind and heats up a cup of brewed coffee in her kitchen that is at the end of a small hallway behind the bar. She makes conversation, informing me she lives alone. I assume she must not be too lonely being the owner of the first place on the camino in 20 kilometers to serve coffee. She tells me about her son, who is in charge of the Camino de Santiago Association in Asturias, and I can tell she is proud. Her hospitality and assurance that I am close to the end of my day combined with the caffeine push me forward.
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July 17th, 2010 at 04:48
[...] continue exploring my learning journey that has brought me on pilgrimage with purpose. From Santiago to Varanasi, Palestine to Paris, I view life as pilgrimage. I’ve realized now on this journey [...]