Jerusalem for one year, September 2013 to September 2014

In one of the most crazy decisions of my life so far, I decided I would move to Jerusalem for a year. One year. Starting in September 2013. 

The Context

I just graduated MIT and am mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted from working for four years towards my EECS degree. I want to go back for my MEng (Master's in Engineering) but I don't yet have the energy. What I needed is something different. 

I was a summer instructor for MEET this summer and had no plans beyond MEET, my trip to Italy with Robin, and the Camino. Well, truth be told, my original plan was to go back to the US for a while, bum around with Maddie in California on the John Muir Trail, then go back to New York / Boston, get a few jobs, and learn more about the industry track I seemed to have been pursuing my entire career thus far. 

After the MEET summer news that I had no plans for one year spread through the grapevine to Talya, the MEET program manager, who offered me the chance for an opportunity of a lifetime: life in Jerusalem for one year, working for MEET full-time. Teaching, curriculum development, culture shock, and all. 

The Plan

Needless to say I was horribly confused. Do I run away from my home for a year just to do something different? Do I pursue this passion for education and technology so far from home? Do I leave Robin, boyfriend of two years, for an entire year? Do I leave the tech world for a year? Do I go live in a country where I don't know either of the languages? 

After countless debates and arguments with myself, Robin, and my parents (hi mom!) I decided to take the risk. I decided that living in Jerusalem was indeed the experience of a lifetime. I would never get this chance again, and I would enjoy it to the fullest. 

I would live for a year in Jerusalem, then come back to Boston to finish my MEng starting in September 2014. And here I am. 

Why are you closed on MONDAY of all days? To Cornellana, then.

Leaving Escamplero

We were as usual the last ones to leave the albergue at the shockingly late hour of 8am (for some reason these peregrinos were more fanatical about starting early than the ones on the Camino del Norte...). Because there was no hospitaliero (host) at the albergue, the last to leave had to go give the key back to the restaurant down the street. I returned the key and walked on. 

The difference with this Camino was that everything was more gray in the mornings - there was mist everywhere, it was more cloudy, and in general it was a bit cooler. Not to say that it wasn't gorgeous, of course. 

In our never-ending quest to find happiness with the three different walking paces of Leah, Kayla, and I, it became by job to buy lunch food in the next town (which happened to be Grado).

Grado

... is mixed up with their days. Well, not really. But Grado is famous in Asturias for it's market, but it's market is open on Sundays. And since every people need a day of rest, if you work on Sunday then your day off is on Monday. Guess what day we ended up going through Grado? Yep, Monday. 

I got to Grado around 11am and went straight for the center of town for some lunch (I was completely out of food) and wifi. The wifi didn't work so I just ended up eating a small bocadillo (sandwich) and café con leche (coffee with milk) and reading some of my book before hunting for a supermarket in the closed town. Of course I had a really hard time finding anything, so all I bought was canned peaches, real peaches, and a box of cereal bars. There was absolutely no cheap cheese or baguette or anything of that kind, so we were going to have to rely on our sardine and tuna stores today for lunch. 

After Grado the path was straight uphill - we were not stopping at San Juan de Villapeñada, which was halfway up the steep hill, but our goal was to make it to Cornellana. Part of the way up, I struggle-hiked next to a French man named Bernard who did not speak very good English. It was talking to him that I realized I don't know French - between words in English, Spanish, and French, we basically figured out that we were both computer people and that we were both walking with people who were a bit slower than we were. But beyond that, the communication was minimal. He walked on to San Juan de Villapeñada while I stopped to wait for Leah and Kayla at the top of the steep uphill.

Cornellana

We got to Cornellana around 6pm. The albergue was in a corner of a hard-to-find abandoned monastery, but eventually we found our way there. There was a washer and dryer, and all of our friends from the night before. While our clothes were washing, I walked into the town and bought a ton of pasta, vegetables, and pasta fixings. We were so hungry that the three of us ate all the food that I had bought - and went through a bottle of cidra. I also bought milk and chocolate cereal to test our 30km+ hypothesis...

The next morning we split from our new-found friends again (we get up around 7:30am, already later than when many of the other peregrinos start walking) and aimed for a 30km day to Tineo. 

Reflection time

At this point it is getting easier to deal with hiking at different paces - we've figured out a system where we split up earlier on in the hike and only regroup at maximum 2 points during the day, for meals. We have started carrying our own shares of food, and getting to the albergue earlier is OK. It is nice to have people with you sometimes, and it is nice to be alone sometimes. Overall, friends are worth the small annoyances that come with them. It is already 14 days into the Camino, and I don't see a change in my attitude. I was hoping the Camino would make me more forgiving, more patient, more relaxed than I was before. But two weeks in I am still hoping there will be a magic change....

I do sometimes walk and hear small snippets of poetic phrases pop into my head; it would be nice to see if anyone had written a book of Camino poems that talk about sore feet, nice views, sounds, smells, tastes, the constant yellow arrows, and the whole concept of "what is the Way". I haven't heard about any, but many peregrinos cite Ithaka as a poem that reminds of the sights and sounds and feelings of the Camino.

Tomorrow I want to go 30+km - I did buy milk and chocolate cereal for a reason. We've had two easier days of hiking (in terms of distance), and I am excited to get 10km straight uphill before our push to Tineo!

Primitivo Day 1: Asturias and Escamplero

The start in Oviedo

Today was our first day on the Camino Primitivo - not only was Leah coming off of two days rest, but it also made sense for us to start this new thing slowly and only go about 12km today. The goal was to end up in El Escamplero, the first albergue our book provided along the Primitivo. 

Taking advantage of the fact that we didn't get kicked out of an albergue at 7am, we slept until 10. Then we just went downstairs to our El Tayuelu tavern and got tortilla española (omlette with potatoes), complete with a side dose of our favorite wifi. Leah decided to finally throw out the bag of frozen peas she had been using to ice her leg so we won't have to carry it, and we decided to try to find groceries for our lunch. The problem was that we had yet again found ourselves in a major city on a Sunday. 

Sunday is a holy day in Catholic Spain, so everything is closed on Sundays. It took us a long while to find a place that would sell us some groceries, but we ended up buying bread, tuna, and beans for our lunch. We found a bakery to buy sweet pastries for our midday snack - no one can resist the delicious. It also magically happened that I dropped my Spanish cell phone, rendering it completely incapable of making calls. Since at this point Kayla still did not have a cell phone, we only had Leah's phone between us. We hoped this would be enough...

After all the morning adventure, we only managed to leave Oviedo at 1pm. Given that we had no idea where the Camino was through Oviedo, we were lucky to run into two women (who we would later meet as Susana and the Norwegian woman) who pointed us in the right direction. On the way out of town I saw an internet cafe and sat there for about half an hour while Leah and Kayla went ahead (we figured this would be ok, since I walked faster than they did anyway). 

Walking through Asturias

Asturias is different. For one, we are no longer walking by the sea. To give you an idea, here is a map:

The red is the Camino del Norte (the Northern Way), and the green is the Camino Primitivo (the Primitive Way). While the northern route we had been talking so far had been close to the coast, the primitive way was more inland. This means the climate was different (for one, there was less breeze, and it was hotter during the day), but it also meant that we were at higher elevation more in the mountains, and it was colder at night. It also meant the sounds of the ocean were too far to be heard. 

Sensory information was replaced: the low rumble of ocean waves was replaced by the clamor of cowbells. 

The salt small is replaced by a faint smell of cow dung, and the insects seem 1000 times louder. Of course, there are still blackberries lining the sides of the trail, but fewer than before. The mountains (I assume they are the Picos de Europa) are never far from your sight, looming behind you as you walk. It is true that there are fewer people, fewer villages. Finally, we have found the real hiking. 

The villages themselves are more quaint. Every house or complex seems to have a hórreo - a type of granary used to store and dry corn and other food. 

And of course, the views of the countryside are always stunning.

El Escamplero

We had been warned to  not expect as much direct hospitality at the albergues on the Primitivo, and the first albergue on the Primitivo was no different. There was no hospitaliero - you had to go to the one restaurant in the town of Escamplero to check in to the albergue (the first one has to get the key from there too). I got there at 4, so I had plenty of time to relax. When Leah and Kayla got to the albergue in the evening, we and all the other peregrinos staying at the albergue went out to eat dinner at the one restaurant in town. Complete of course with cider sangría - darn good if you ask me. 

We were quite the motley crew: our new Polish friend Susanna, a Polish man in his 30s, a Norwegian woman in her 30s who had done the Camino Francés the year before, a young German guy from Dortmund, a French man in his 30s, and us three silly Americans. We had a great dinner, for the first time with a large group of other peregrinos (aside from my adventure in Güemes). It seemed like the start of a family. 

Back at the albergue the Norwegian woman was trying to lighten her load, so Kayla acquired a set of plastic camping bowls and I acquired some more basic first aid supplies.

Looking ahead

The promise of a washing machine tomorrow sounded like a better promised land than anything we had ever had before - I was flat out of clean underwear for more than 3 days at this point, and my pants had not been washed the entire trip. I was ready to get back to walking a lot and washing out the salt stains from the knees of my pants. Today was 12km and I was hungry for more!

The Promised Land #2: Santander, #3: Oviedo, the Primitivo Decision Point

Leaving Güemes

That morning I didn't rush to get up - I read before I went to bed and still got a quiet and calm sleep, waking up naturally before my alarm at 7am. Breakfast was again communal, with tea, coffee, Cola-Cao, biscuits, and jam. The usual Spanish breakfast. I ate, chatted with some more new people, and left. I shook Ernesto's hand and thanked him for his hospitality. 

Walking down the hill from the albergue I was recognized by a family who had heard me translate the hermita discussion. I walked faster than them, but I stayed with them until the split-off between the three options to Santander. We all decided that we would take the scenic route, which didn't exactly follow the Camino, but hugged the coast and eventually ended up where you needed to go. 

We knew that there was a ferry from the village of Somo to Santander, so our objective was just to walk along the coast until we got to Somo, then take the ferry. Alba (the daughter of the family that I met) and I walked faster than her parents, so after making the requisite conversation with them we split off and walked the 15km along the coast to Somo. 

Walking up and down the sand dunes is just like walking through the snow without snowshoes - I was post-holing through the sand, and when we got back to the road I had to spend a few minutes emptying my socks and shoes of sand. 

All throughout the 15km, Alba and I communicated in Spanish - we talked about our education, what we were doing now, and exchanged stories and stereotypes of Spaniards and Americans. We got to the boat dock in Somo after not really having followed the Camino, but all the time we were walking we saw both the dock and Santander, so we knew we were on the right track. 

At 11am, I left Alba to wait for her parents at the dock, and paid the 3 euros for the river crossing to Santander. I ran into none other than the German woman I was talking to the night before, so we sat with each other at the back of the boat admiring the view. 

"the shoes and water incident"

(One of the sad disclaimers in all of this is that I don't know this German woman's name. If she told it to me, that information is lost in the sands of time. If not, we never talked while needing to know each other's names, so it never seemed relevant. Lastly, the chances of our seeing each other again in life is not zero, but negligible, so I did not make an effort to get her contact information or email or name, because I knew that if we were destined to see each other again, it would happen. So this embarrassing story about her will never be tainted with her name.)

She had already changed into her sandals and strapped her shoes to her pack, so  her feet could get some rest. This day was her last on the Camino, as she was taking a bus back to San Sebastián the next day and flying back to Germany. When we were approaching the dock in Santander, she grabbed her pack and slung it over her shoulder. A few seconds later, we both turned around to look back at the water after hearing a large SPLASH sound. She gave a cry of surprise at seeing her hiking boots (Asolo approach shoes, no less), floating away in the water. 

Thankfully, the boat was basically docked and the shoes were no more than 20 meters from the dock shore. So of course, she wanted to go in and save her shoes. We ran off the ferry and she handed me her pack. I sat and watched as she quickly took off her sandals, shirt, shoes, and glasses, and jumped in after her shoes. She was very athletic: a climber, hiker, and biker. So presumably she was a good swimmer as well - it took her no more than a few powerful strokes to get to her shoes. Even though she couldn't see, she skillfully dodged both the fishing line off the side of the pier and the stares and points of the people along the pier. 

She got out triumphantly holding her shoes, carefully put on a second pair of dry clothes, and we walked into the center of town. We parted ways as she went to the municipal albergue in Santander while I went to search for Leah and Kayla. I tried to take some pictures of Santander, but my camera phone was not working, so I only ended up with one artsy picture of Santander. 

Santander

I found the girls in an internet cafe (cheap! 2 euros an hour) inside the bus station in Santander. We wandered around to find menu del día for lunch as usual. We were on our way back to the bus station to find the schedules to Oviedo, but we ran into German girl and Romanian girl in a square in Santander, ended up chatting for a few hours and grabbing a beer.  We didn't see any of Santander, nor did I want to. I (as always) wanted to keep going, since I didn't need a rest day. Leah's feet were feeling better from a two-day rest, and Kayla had gotten the chance to sleep off her death march the day before.

How Kayla got to Santander

When we were sharing stories of our experiences the day before (I of Güemes, Leah of Santander), Kayla shared her story for how she ended up in Santander: in short, she got to Bareyo exhausted, decided to press on, and ended up being driven the last 10km or so along the highway to Somo. She met up with Leah around 7pm in Santander, and they spent a relaxing evening doing laundry and relaxing in Santander while I was having a good time in Güemes. 

Where to go from Santander: continue or change trails?

The day we were in Santander was August the 17th - 12 days into our official walking, and around 14 days from when I had to leave Santiago de Compostela. At the moment, it had taken us 12 days to walk about 275 kms, and along the Camino del Norte route we had another 500 km to go. If we wanted to get a feel for a different kind of trail (more mountainous, more up and down, less road), we had the option of splitting off to the Camino Primitivo at Oviedo, and at the same time covering some lost ground and making closer progress to Santiago. We could not reasonably make it another 500km in only a few more days of time than we had already walked, so we wanted to bus through from Santander to Oviedo (about 200km), and set a target of 300km from Oviedo to Santiago de Compostela in the next 15 days or so.

Ultimately we decided that we wanted a slightly varied experience on the Camino - we had already done 12 days of the Camino del Norte and wanted to see some real mountains on the Primitivo. So our decision was to just bus to Oviedo and start on the Primitivo the next day.

Santander to Oviedo

We only made it to the bus station (and got on the bus) at 5:50pm, scheduled to arrive in Oviedo at around 8pm. We made it to the bus stop just in the nick of time, so I was sent on a quick 3-second grocery store run to get Nestea and cookies for the bus ride. Turns out we didn't actually need it, since the bus ride was basically like a short plane flight - it came with an attendant, wifi, infinite drinks, and some snacks. (For future reference, this 2-hour luxury bus ride with the SUPRA company cost us 25 euros each). 

In Oviedo... at least 4 mistakes

Oviedo where we were headed was the capital of the Spanish province of Asturias, best-known for it's cider. We clearly couldn't start hiking that late at night, so we were going to spend the night at the albergue (camp outside, if nothing else) and then start the next morning. 

Asking at the bus information center is where mistake #2 happened: asking for the albergue and not asking for a map - we got a bus stop instead. This was mistake #2 (mistake #1 was not looking this information up either on the wifi-enabled bus or at the internet cafe in Santander). Mistake #3: getting off the bus too early. Mistake #4: on Leah's 3G-and-Google-maps-enabled device, clicking the address for the "albergue juvenil" rather than the "albergue." (Remember my post about the meanings of different Spanish accommodations more than a year before...). This meant that this was a "youth hostel" rather than an official albergue for the Camino. This particular albergue juvenil happened to be not only way out on the outskirts of town (which to us was not surprising, given that the albergue was either on the outskirts of town or in the center next to the church), but also happened to be part of the international hostel association. This meant bad news for us, since we could not stay there without this international hostel card that we did not have. And we couldn't even buy said hostel card directly at the hostel. (Later when Leah and I were discussing this business model we came to the conclusion that it was basically the dumbest business model ever...)

So here we were, 9pm, on the outskirts of town, not knowing where the albergue was, not having any public transportation options, and not having any food or knowledge of where the Camino was. We didn't even know whether the yellow arrow blazes were as prominent here, or whether they changed into something completely different. 

We were lucky that the man at the albergue juvenil took pity on us (and the fact that I spoke good Spanish helped immensely - he was not that comfortable with English), giving us a map and a list of pensiones to try. We called the closest one and asked how much it would be for three people to stay in a 2-person room (we did after all have all of our camping gear, so we would be totally OK sleeping on the floor. As already established before, a roof is the most important feature). Often we would be forced to stay in a 3-person room (which was of course more expensive), but finally one pensión agreed to let us stay. We walked there (yet another 30 minutes in our exhaustion) and negotiated the price down to 30 euros for the night. Kayla ended up sleeping on the floor, but it was Leah's or my turn next). 

El Tayuelu, and cider

The pensión was called El Tayuelu, and it was also connected to a Sidrería (like a tavern, but specializing in cider, which is called sidra in Spanish). We got dinner there (tapas, specifically chipirones, which are fried whole squids) and extravagantly-poured cider. The cider tradition is that it needs to aerate before it can be drunk (so it is sweeter), so the waiters take a bottle way over their heads in outstretched arm and pour the cider into a cup held in the other hand as low as possible. There's a great show, a great splash, and a great hurry as the buyers of the cider try to drink it as fast as possible. Delicious and alcoholic and sweet. We went to bed late, enjoying our opportunity to sleep in, before starting off on our first short leg of the Primitivo the next day.

Thus ended Day 12. For me, Güemes -> Santander -> Oviedo. The end of the Camino del Norte route, the start point of the Camino Primitivo.

The most unique albergue on the Norte: Güemes

tl;dr - stop at the albergue in Güemes, on purpose.

Hasta la vista (in Santander), baby

We spent the night in the 25-person room at the albergue, and I woke up still exhausted. (It didn't help that I had tossed and turned all night from having a headache and runny nose, needing to take a roll of toiler paper from the albergue to use that day). But I felt invigorated from taking two half-days at the beach and not walking a lot (by that I mean sub-20km) for two days. We had 28 or so kilometers to go until Güemes, and another 20 or so (turns out it was less than that) to go to Santander. We had never pulled a 40+ day, and despite Leah's feet being destroyed, and despite my head feeling like it was the size of a watermelon, I felt up for the task. I knew that pushing forward would clear my head of all it's clutter.

Leah's feet were screwed. Like, completely screwed. If it hurts more to walk in flip flops than in hiking boots, you know your feet deserve a break. We decided that Kayla and I were going to keep walking and Leah would take a bus to Santander. She needed a day-or-two break anyway, and Kayla and I wanted to keep walking.

We had breakfast at the albergue, an early one, left Leah to find a bus from town, and headed off, either planning on meeting in Santander either that night or the next night. Kayla and I gave Leah our map of the town (that also showed where the Camino was out of town) and headed out. We had a really hard time finding the path, but a number of helpful locals pointed us the way. 

We eventually found our way out of Santoña along the beach and had to scramble up and down a cliff that connected the beaches of Santoña and Noja. 

Note the arrows - they are everywhere. 

The beach stretched for miles - we walked at least 3km along the beach or the path next to it. It is hard to walk on the sand, weighed down by your pack. Especially when your shoes are mesh and sand gets into them all the time. The beaches are amazing - whether they are completely empty except for a single couple enjoying the good weather, rocks jutting out along the sand, or a lone young runner along the waves. It is an amazing feeling, standing alone along the shore at peace with the waves and the salt and the sand, seeing only a few people in the distance. 

We passed a camping-albergue, a small supermarket in Helgueras (where we were adventurous and bought a can of canned octapus (pulpo) to supplement our otherwise strict regimen of tuna, sardines, baguette, and tomatoes. We walked into Noja (another 3km from Helgueras) to get food for dinner, each carrying enough for ourselves. We figured Leah would be fine, since she was going to Santander. 

The route

Our book map looked like this: 

so we thought the signs would be hard to follow. Turns out, they were easy, and took us through San Miguel de Meruelo and eventually to Bareyo. We did not pass through Castillo but did pass through Noja. So basically, it was really unclear where exactly we went, but we got to Bareyo eventually. 

Kayla and I split up almost immediately after Noja - I continued to Bareyo until about 3pm when the temping sign of "café, wifi" caught my eye. I had been walking along the road for a while so I was almost tempted. But I thought Güemes can't be that far, so I just paused for a quick granola and water break and pushed on. 

Güemes

I got to Güemes, expecting a slightly-larger-than-the-usual-10-house-town, but was greeted by none other than my favorite café-church combination. I did not see a sign for an albergue until I got to the edge of town, so I stopped to ask for directions. My pamphlet said 1km off the path was the albergue, so I eventually saw the sign (and many interesting Camino-shell-signs):

until I eventually found the place. 

It was the earliest I had ever arrived at an albergue - it was barely 4pm. I spent some time admiring the pristine cleanliness, the washers / dryers, the triple-bunks, the mess hall. I also spent some time chatting with our various friends we'd met along the way - the French couple from Portugalete, the Spanish couple from Laredo, a few others.

The most unique albergue

When I first arrived at the albergue, I walked into a group of 10 people of various ages and nationalities, some wearing hiking clothes and some wearing farmer clothes and some wearing nicer clothes. There were a few small children with their parents or grandparents as well. The group was sitting on chairs and benches outside the foyer of a two-story ranch house. 

I came up the hill and was immediately beckoned to sit, given a glass of water, and told to relax. An older man was in the middle of a song with his guitar, accompanied by his wife singing. I sat transfixed at the scene before me - I felt like I had just entered into a surreal, musical world. For 15 minutes I was lost in the Spanish guitar, the voices, the melody, and the atmosphere of rural northern Spain. When the songs ended, one of the volunteers at the albergue checked me in and showed me to my room.

I was left mostly to myself for a few hours to nurse my blisters and relax until the next day. I got to admire the triple-bunks, the cleanliness, the washer/dryer (which I didn't actually use because I thought it was too expensive), and the relaxed atmosphere. A German group was in the room next to mine, so there was the low chatter of German. I spent some time lying in the sun reading my book, enjoying just being outside and relaxed in such a nice atmosphere. 

At 7pm, we had a "peregrinos meeting" where Ernesto, the owner of the albergue, explained the history of the albergue and the various ways to get to Santander from Güemes. 

There were about 30 people in the albergue that night, each with his own unique group and unique story to share.

The history of the albergue

Ernesto, who sported a 2-inch-long white beard and exuded the wisdom of decades, explained in great detail his life and the story of the albergue. A large portion of the guests there that night did not speak Spanish but spoke good English, so a translator was necessary. Fortunately for me (I speak great English and pretty decent Spanish), a British girl had already befriended Ernesto and was chosen to be the translator. She did ask me a few times when she didn't catch Ernesto's phrases to translate, but mostly I got to enjoy and listen to the story.

• The house the albergue is in was Ernesto's family's home. It was vacated in the 50s by his family, but he moved back here to restore and rejuvenate it around 1975, at the start of the popularity of the Camino del Norte.
• Ernesto studied to be a priest (in Spanish, a cura) and worked for many years in a small remote village at the top of a mountain. He showed us the picture of the village he worked in (and the trail he used to walk up to it), and it made me glad for the existance of motorized vehicles. 
• After he finished his studies and working for a time, Ernesto took a "doctorado de la vida" as he called it, traveling the world for two years, stopping in South America, Asia, Africa, and Europe. 
• Ernesto loved traveling and meeting people so much that he wanted to bring that experience back to his native home, and decided to open an albergue on the Camino del Norte. 
• The albergue would be a meeting place for travelers, peregrinos, and enthusiasts. The payment would be by donation only, with each paying as much as he thought appropriate for the services and experience he was given. 
• Those who wanted to stay longer at the albergue could volunteer their time in exchange for room and board for (almost) as long as they wanted. (For example, I met an Irish woman who was working at the albergue for 3 months before going back to Ireland to re-start her new career as an accountant). 
• Those who stayed at the albergue were encouraged to share their stories and experiences with one another, and bring their positive values back to their home societies.

The end of the meeting also included a song by the man who was singing earlier, revealed to be Ernesto's cousin. 

We were also explained the three different ways to get to Santander: 

1. 10km along the highway (...groan from the peanut gallery)
2. 13km half-highway, half-coast
3. 15km along the coast (cheer!)

Right then and there I decided that I was going to try to go for the coastal route - if I started early like everyone else was bound to do, it would take me only 4 hours maximum and I would meet Leah and Kayla in Santander before lunch.

Dinner

After the peregrino's meeting there was a communal dinner, cooked and served by the volunteers and full-time staff of the albergue. I sat and chatted with a German woman working at Mercedes-Benz (her adventure stories made me miss my fellow MITOCers and their crazy world travels), a Romanian woman recently-emigrated to the UK starting a new career, a Korean couple, and a plethora of Spanish couples young and old. The young women who were hiking alone were more drawn to talking to each other, since we all were eager to share our stories and experiences. During dinner Ernesto made us all make a communal toast (not religious of course) and pointedly showed us where the donation box is. 

The hermita

After dinner Ernesto needed yet another translator to talk about the hermita on the albergue property. The word hermita in Spanish is most closely translated as a "hermit's lair" without the negative connotations. It is a place to work, sleep, eat, think, pray, and study. 

Ernesto's hermita was an 8-sided structure (not circular to facilitate the building of benches along the inside walls), painted and decorated by a Brazilian artist friend of Ernesto's. Ernesto spent some time explaining the significance and story of the paintings along the walls: 

The Camino is a journey of life, for the heart and the soul as well as the feet. The travelers are laden with their bags and in various stages of tiredness and exhaustion, looking down at the trail for the yellow arrows that mark the path. The shells mark the signs of the Camino, their use for the peregrinos multi-faceted.

The outstretched (multi-racial) hands are asking the universe for a good experience of the Camino. The eyes are constantly searching for the right Way, and the feet are always sore from the day's exertion.

The peregrinos are always searching, always looking, always reaching. They are sometimes lost, discouraged, confused. They are reaching forward towards something, sometimes unclear about what they are searching for or where it is. They all think they are searching for the yellow arrows that are pointing them along the Way.

Some travelers are so focused on the trail that they only follow the yellow arrows without regard for anyone else or their troubles. But some (man, woman, black, white, all kinds) help each other through the troubles of Camino (and of life). Those who help are REALLY the ones following the Way, as shown by the angels bringing down a yellow arrow to the altruistic group.

The Camino is a place to share meals, stories, experiences, and life. It is a place to meet other travelers and experience the goodness that is inside each ordinary person. People walk the Camino to be reminded of the ordinary pleasures of life.

Once you have found that the Camino is about meeting people, helping each other, sharing experiences, and finding the goodness inside yourself, then you have succeeded in finishing the Camino. The end of the Camino is not in Santiago de Compostela (and that is why it is not depicted here), but the end is inside each one of us, as soon as we discover the goodness that is inside each other. The world is brighter for these discoveries, and we need them for the survival of humanity at large.

And onwards

I eventually heard from Leah that Kayla had made it to Santander (I would get the full story later), but because I had such a great time meeting travelers in Güemes, I forgot about the original plan to meet here. I went to sleep happy I had met these interesting people, and glad that I had accidentally stopped in Güemes for the night. If you follow the Camino del Norte, make sure to stop in Güemes, but on purpose.