Oh, my aching clavicle!

Hello to all! Day 4 of the Camino! I´m in Puenta la Reina, my first real stop to use the internet and send out a couple of postcards. Legs and feet and shoulders have all adjusted to the weight of my pack and the pain of the first few days has gone away with a good night of drinking wine with new friends!! Everything is great! I´m loving the lifestyle and haven´t been this happy in a long time!! The pace of the Camino is a curious thing to get used to. The first day or two was almost like a race. Everyone speeding past, trying to get to the next Albergue (hostal) before the whole pack, but by the third day, the pack has thinned out and we are all on our own pace. The first couple of days, everyone commiserated about the pains in our knees, toes, blisters, legs, shoulders, etc. Now that I´m on day 4, those issues have melted away and I´m focussing more on my thoughts, the landscape, my morning coffee and the present. The present, both in terms of time and in terms of the gift that is this period of my life. Everyday brings new and interesting people into my life, new landscapes and new adventures. It is an amazing experience. Puenta la Reina is the meeting point of two different trails of the Camino, and so the path becomes a little more crowded again, but it also brings more ideas and ways of life into contact with my own. Magnificent.

Ay! Que rico!

Time to catch up about the first few days of my trip! It has been a solid reminder of both the things I love most and not so much about travelling. I left Regina on a morning flight on Tuesday and arrived in my destination of Paris late on Wednesday afternoon - a full 24 hours of travel and stopovers. But not too much to complain about, really...no delayed flights, no screaming babies, no body cavity searches through customs. I even sat beside a pleasant guy who chatted just the right amount to pass the time but not disturb my sleep on the way over the pond.

Paris was its usual busy and sort of smelly self, but I booked a great little hostel in the heart of Montmartre, three blocks from the Sacre Coeur, and I met a few great people right away. Dinner and drinks with strangers in Paris actually does top my list of cool things to do while travelling solo :) My first day was spent wandering the Champs Elysees and visiting the busy Notre Dame Cathedral, eating crepes de Nutella and drinking cafe au lait. I even visited the Rodin Museum, topping off my cultural events for one day in Paris. Did I mention the creme brulee at the Cafe Deux Moulins? That's the cafe that Amelie Poulin worked at in the famous movie Amelie. Let me top the day off with a little bar hopping and dancing with new friends Nicolas from Quebec, Rosy from Devonshire and Jessica from Guadalajara. I cant possibly keep up the pace for the rest of the trip at my age...but I have never been accused of being a quitter ;)

So how can I possibly top that on day two? Well, as much as I like dining with strangers, meeting up with friends is even better. I took the train from Paris to Biarritz, where my Basque friend Eunate met me with open arms. What a wonderful and generous person! Along with her charming boyfriend Pablo, we toured the beautiful beach at Biarritz, getting my first taste of the warm weather and water of the Bay of Biscay. Next we sped across the border into Spain, ahem, the Navarra - don't tell her I called it Spain!! Basque first, Spanish only when necessary - to check out the big film festival in Donostia (better known as San Sebastian). Richard Gere and Susan Sarandon were there, not that I saw them. But what an amazingly beautiful and clean city. Pinchos and cerveza were next on the list of must-dos. Pinchos are similar to their more well-known southern cousins, tapas. Que rico!

So, all in all, I can't imagine my first few days going any better than that! Have I mentioned how much I love travelling? Oh yeah, and I went to Pamplona for a crazy Basque festival last night, where I got my first look at the Camino de Santiago (no, I haven't forgotten about the 800km I came here to walk!). I will spend the next couple of days with Eunate and then begin my Camino from the Basque town of Roncesvalles, rather than crossing the border once more and starting from St. Jean Pied de Port as I originally intended. That part of the trail is supposedly one of the mas duro, most difficult, of the whole trek, and my ankle is still pretty sensitive. I see no point in overduing it my first day when I am already so close to the traditional starting point of my Spanish compadres. When in Rome...

Mind over matter

Three days to go time. I packed my backpack for real today and it came out weighing 20 pounds, which is about as much weight as I would want to have to carry to the airport, let alone on an 800km trek for 5 weeks. Soooo...now for the fine-tuning! Already I have lost my conditioner (a small yet remarkably heavy bottle), some extra Band-Aids and batteries, a book for my flight, and a few other personal toiletries that I imagine I will find along the way should I really need them. I'm on the fence about carrying the foot powder that was so highly recommended (the smallest bottle I could find was still 283g, which sounds light but becomes very heavy very quickly), but I figure a small Ziploc baggie with white powder might look suspicious at the airport! I imagine I will have to put some of it into said plastic baggie and just carry a half-empty bottle around instead. Other than this, I'm not actually sure what else I might leave behind! I'd like to leave my sore ankle, but unfortunately I still need that.

*Not actually my foot.

Yes, it is still sore. Not sure what else to do about it other than continue to use it carefully. I admit that since I sprained it, I have still been using it regularly and not treating it with more than a little special care. I was supposed to ice it, but I'm naturally cold-blooded, I think, even in the summer, so I stopped that quickly.  Besides, it never actually swelled, so do I really need to ice it? But the move did not treat it kindly. It was a lot of extra weight and awkward leaning, trying to fit things in the U-Haul or the elevator or into my new living space. I had it tensored up, but there is only so much support those things can offer. And then there are my wonderful niece and nephew who absolutely need me to chase them while playing tag. I tried to play freeze tag, but they don't seem to know how to play by the rules, so I was always It anyway. How on earth do you say no to a four-year-old's cotton-candy giggle? All I can say is, my ankle was not so supportive of my decision.

A close friend of mine gave me something interesting to think about, though. See, she is a practitioner of something called Body Talk. According to their website, www.bodytalksystem.com, "BodyTalk is a consciousness-based, nondiagnostic therapy that works with the body in its healing process...based on the principle that the body is capable of healing itself at all levels." The idea that our bodies hold on to the memories of all past physical and emotional events in our lives is one I can certainly wrap my head around. And after having a session with her for some excess anxiety before my last trip to Spain - a session where I didn't say a word, but my friend, by listening to yes/no answers from the muscles in my arm, actually got to the heart of my anxiety and helped me to express it (nonverbally - my body processed the stress and I left feeling completely relaxed!) - I fully believe the power our minds hold over us without our ever being conscious of our own issues around illness. So anyway, according to Body Talk, the ankle is connected with decision making and being connected to the earth. Go figure. Recently I've made a big decision in my life, and I'm heading to Spain to see if I can find a new path to walk, physically and metaphorically...so I guess my ankle is sore because my body is reacting to the emotional stress of it all. Very interesting.

So, I have continued my walks, trying to balance the need to rest my ankle and the need to keep my body in shape for this crazy trek I'm about to do. I plan to take it easy and not walk the suggested 20 to 30km a day, but I'm still a little worried. I took my pack out, fully packed, today and did a 2km trial...and it was heavy (big surprise!). The flat surfaces were fine for my ankle, but the short stretches of uneven ground I walked on gave me a little soreness *sigh*. From the tales I've heard of the Camino, my sore ankle will be the least of my worries about my feet, but even so, starting off this way is a little disheartening. I'm hoping that it turns into my saving grace, though, because by coddling my ankle, I might be saving my feet from the notorious blisters and hotspots that happen when walking too far in a day. And who knows? Maybe reconnecting with the earth in such a physical way is just what the doctor ordered to calm my mind and my sore ankle while I transition into the next phase of my life. Lemonade anyone?

Finding my Way

It is September 8th already. Ten more days until I fly to Paris and on to St. Jean Pied-de-Port in southern France, where the Camino Frances starts its 800km route to Santiago. In the last ten days, I've packed up my whole world and moved it to Regina, Saskatchewan, my hometown that I haven't lived in for 10 years. That is a lot of 8's and 10's. If anyone knows anything about numerology, please tell me that I'm in for the trip of a lifetime, okay? Not that I'm doubting it, but I guess I've got pre-800km-trek jitters. Will I make it over the Pyrenees? Will I have enough moleskin and foot ointment to survive 5 weeks of continuous walking? Will I convert to Catholicism during such an epic pilgrimage of seeking out the bones of Saint James? (Kidding on the last one, but the first two are legitimate concerns!)

How thoughtful!

I've been reading a few books by other trekkers, and the sheer physical struggle is usually glossed over with tales of new friends, beautiful vistas and free pilgrimage wine fountains (no joke!). I've also been told that many people lose a lot of weight on this trip. I guess walking 20 to 30km a day for 5 weeks can do that to a person. I have to admit, that is a welcome side-effect after the comfortable life I've been living (and by comfortable, I mostly mean lazy). And I have heard tales of blistered and throbbing feet, hurt tendons and aggravated injuries from the sheer amount of walking. Am I really up for this physically? Oh, and that's not even mentioning that at my last garage sale I tripped down the stairs and sprained my ankle. The timing couldn't have been worse, but all said, it was a fairly gentle reminder that anything can happen at any time and I need to be more careful. It makes me a little nervous to start such a long walking trip right now, before it has fully healed. Do I have the stamina to do this journey? And where might I get it, if I find along the way that I'm lacking?

I guess that is the challenge. And I know I'm up for it! Right now, I am in full planning mode. I'm buying the last of my "necessary" supplies, and next week I will pack my bag and try it out. I'll go for a long walk with it and see how I fare. (Living right across the street from almost open prairie, I'll avoid the strange looks from passersby I would have gotten in downtown Victoria.) And I will test out the new walking poles I bought to see if they help support my poor ankle with all the weight bearing down.

My backpack won't be quite this full!

Physical ailments and nerves aside, I've never been more mentally prepared for anything in my life. I've been thinking about this trek for more than six months now, and I believe that I have everything I'll need to enjoy it. I'm focused on taking my time and making the journey my own. I've heard of people hiking it for exercise or for personal training, sprinting through it to prove they can walk it in less than a month, or worse, forcing themselves to fit it into a holiday time period--yikes! I don't think there would be anything worse than plowing through it just to say I'd done it. I really want to experience it at my own pace, not only for my ankle, but also for mi alma, my soul. This is meant to be a life-changing experience, and I don't want that change to be coming home crippled from too much unnecessary exertion. I want to come home with a new perspective on my life and on the world around me, with a healthy new appreciation for daily exercise. There are so many ways to experience a journey like this: the physical trek; the historical path; a spiritual journey; an artistic endeavor; a culinary exploration. As fellow blogger Nancy Frey says in her blogpost, The Way: A Love Letter to Spain and Galicia, "It’s not how you do the pilgrimage that’s important but how you carry it in your heart...Everyone must find their own Camino." There is no right way to walk this path, only your own way.

For my own journey, I want to put in the time and effort, and feel like I've accomplished a small miracle in my own life. The Camino began as a spiritual path more than 1000 years ago, and the reasons to walk it have changed over time. I'm not sure what to expect on the way, but I want my spirit, as well as my body and mind, to benefit from each step I take.
  

There are as many ways as Pilgrims.

Exile or Exultation

Once I decided to quit my job and go walkabout in northern Spain, a few things had to be dealt with. Namely: the reality of a consumer trying to leave it all behind. So what are we supposed to do with the closetful of clothes that definitely won't be coming in our backpack to Europe,  and where do we ditch that "charmingly retro" '80s couch we inherited from our parents' basement? More importantly, how do we make it all disappear in less than a month?

These are big questions. Luckily for us North Americans, we have been raised to believe that one person's trash is another's treasure. And everybody wants to find their own personal treasure. I may be a reluctant consumer, but I live in a society that has bought into the idea that we are what we own. The biggest contradiction in this is, we tend to value quantity over quality, thereby lessening the resale value of pretty much everything. What does this mean for me? I might be able to get rid of everything I own, but I'm not likely to make much money doing it.

The first thing to do is decide what is worth something to you (and to somebody else) and what you'd be okay giving away for practically nothing. I'm talking about the difference between selling stuff online at reasonable prices directly to people who are looking for those items versus having a big-ass garage sale where people will offer you 25 cents for your brand-new blender. The trouble is, we all value our own things more than anyone else values them. You can grumble and try to barter, but ultimately, if you want it gone, you will take that 25 cents.

Don't let yourself believe that you don't have personal feelings for what you own, because you do. We all do. Those placemats were a gift from your grandma. That is the rug you vomited on after that epic party you'll never forget and yet can't quite remember. That brand-new blender made the smoothie you drank the morning after you had sex with your boyfriend for the first time. We attach memories and meaning to everything, including inanimate objects that keep our lives in running order. Selling this stuff becomes a trip down memory lane, and it is also the reason most of us can't stand to move or declutter our houses, no matter how much shit we keep cramming in there.

But a cluttered house is more than a metaphor for our unhappiness; it might just be the cause of it. The more we own, the more responsibility we have to bear. The more we buy, the more we have to eventually get rid of. What I find so interesting is that most people don't think about where things come from, who made them, what materials they are made of, what processing and electricity and man-power went into making all of the items we buy at Walmart and Costco. We just see them and want them and buy them. Desire rules our consumerized brains. But that is only half of the story. The really disastrous side of things is where they go when they've lost their value to us and we are done with them and throw them away. This is the part of the story that most people would rather not think about, would rather not know. Where does all this stuff end up? And most importantly, whose responsibility is it?

I think it should be the consumer's, first and foremost. Everything we buy should be thought of as a process, a circle of life. Do I need this to survive? Will I value it when I own it? Will it be reusable? Will it recycle easily or biodegrade naturally? If not, what the HELL am I supposed to do with it? I believe that if everyone thought of their consumer items in this way, there would be a serious change in the way the world thinks about capitalism. If we didn't think, "Somebody made this useless piece of crap so it must be valuable," but rather "How did our world get to the point where someone thought that it would be a good idea to make this useless piece of crap?", then our world would head in a much more sustainable direction. I think it is the consumer's responsibility (and obviously the manufacturer's as well--quit making shit nobody needs!) to look at what we buy and demand a change in the way we all consume. Things built to last, things made to be reused, things with more than one purpose. But of course, it still comes down to personal greed. Do we really need everything we want? Absolutely not.

This reminds me of a story I heard a few years ago about a guy who decided to carry his garbage around with him everywhere he went. I've looked, but can't find any record online, so if anyone has heard of him, or something like it, please let me know! In my search, I found a bunch of other fantastic initiatives, both personal ones and community-based ones, so check them out! Google "Zero Waste Challenge" and "Zero Garbage Challenge." Fantastic ideas! Anyway, that is a whole different tangent!

My second garage sale!

So, once you've sold all your valuable items online, and you've had a garage sale or two to make the last bit of money from your stuff, there are still a number of great places to get rid of unwanted consumer goods. There are some wonderful charities that collect unwanted items so they can sell them to make money for their cause. These include (in Victoria specifically) the Salvation Army, Women in Need Community Cooperative, the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, Value Village, and a variety of other thrift store donation places. If you still want to try to make some money on those clothing items that just aren't going to fit in your backpack, then consignment stores are a great way to at least get some cash back. The only problem here is that they will only give you a small cut in the profits when the items sell, and that could be months after you've taken them in. This takes some serious long-term planning, and there are no guarantees. One place I know of in town, Leche's Clothing Exchange, will purchase your things outright and give you money for them. But like all consignment places, they only take what they think they can sell.

So to end on a personal note, I'm sitting on the floor, having sold almost all semblances of furniture, looking at my apartment that will soon be empty. I have 5 more days before I load up my U-Haul and head back to the prairies, and I find that now that the major work of selling and donating my stuff is done, I'm in a bit of a vacuous place, ready to leave but not quite able to. Three more days of work; a few more dinners out with good friends; the final packing of my things. I've done my last grocery shop for the week, and I've bought all the gear I need for my adventure in Spain (good quality gear that will be reused for years to come!). So now what do I do in this weird state of limbo?

This week, and month in general, has felt a lot like exile rather than embarking on an exciting adventure. Ten years' worth of goodbyes must be not only said but also felt, and I find I've been on the verge of tears for an entire week. So many excellent people have given me hugs and farewells, and any ill-will toward others quickly disappears when you say goodbye. Fond memories are the ones that last. I guess all that's left to do is switch my focus from saying goodbye to Victoria to saying hello to the possibilities ahead. http://youtu.be/HBZ8ulc5NTg

Sunshine in a Bag

It is hard to believe that 94 different people could be interested in my blog, but I'll take that as a sign that it's time to write Post #2!

So, it has been a month of packing and selling and hocking and sharing my unwanted things, and, of course, saying my goodbyes to people and places. I have lived in Victoria for 10 years as of April this year. I came out here when I was 23 and full of possibility, and I'm leaving when I'm 33 and, as it turns out, once again full of possibility. Somewhere in the middle there, it felt like most of my life consisted of little life rafts of excitement adrift in the Sea of the Same Old.

That is not to say my life in between hasn't been full of wonderful things. I am an extraordinarily fortunate person. I have been born a Canadian, first and foremost, and that has already set me ahead in the world. I am lucky enough to come from a loving family; my parents still laugh together, and I think that stability has made me a more reliable and confident person. I have a close sister to laugh and to cry with, and her kids remind me that life is full of small miracles; being an Auntie is definitely one of them. I have some truly amazing and diverse friends around the globe who make me want to travel to the ends of the earth to visit them, or just go across town to share a bottle of wine and talk till the wee hours. And finally, I have no physical, mental or emotional problems that need to be medicated or otherwise treated as anything but average. Oh, and I have been blessed with a body and a mind that allow me to work hard and strive to succeed whenever possible. Ok, you get it. I'm lucky. But who in this world doesn't want more than they already have?

And so, after 10 years of growing comfortable, I'm now in the throes of throwing (and selling and sharing) it all away and living out of a backpack. No, it doesn't sound like I'm getting more than I already have, but that would be looking at it from a purely Capitalist point of view. I'm throwing away the material for the immaterial, and I have to admit, I haven't been so happy in a long time! I'm walking around with a smile on my face--a lot! People in the street are starting to give me funny looks, cuz I just burst out with friendly smiles at every corner! What is wrong with her?? Well, it's a little thing called possibility.

I'm not so naive as to think this change in my life is going to be all sunshine in a bag ("Clint Eastwood" by the Gorillaz, 2001, oh yes I did), and in reality, I'm likely to curse the many painful steps I'm inevitably going to take on this trip. But I know that I will forever remember the experience of it all. I know with certainty that it will open up the possibility of meeting new people, seeing new places and experiencing new things. Out of everything in my life so far, it is the adventure of travel that consistently puts the biggest smile on my face, whether dreaming about it beforehand, experiencing it at the time or just in memory of that time when... Once you've discovered what really makes your soul happy (and not just satisfied, content or complacent), how can you possibly settle for less?

Galician Generosity

"I want you to have it." --Yanira from Santiago

When you make a big decision in your life, it can be as though the whole world is cheering you on. A few months ago, knowing that it was time to start spicing up my life with a change in direction, I decided that I would go back to Spain. The last time I was there was 2006, and it has stayed in my mind and my heart as a constant reminder of how exciting and wonderful life can be. I had heard whispers of the Camino in the north of Spain as I toured around the south, exploring the olive groves and Moorish palaces of Sevilla and Granada. I'd even met a few people who had walked parts of the Camino, who told tales of sore feet and enlightened hearts. But it wasn't until last year, when I read a blog post by a friend of mine and his wife who were walking it as part of a year of traveling the world, that I remembered these whispers and started to look into it again.

See, I was feeling pretty safe and secure in my good job and comfortable bed. But wouldn't you know it, bored senseless with the way I'd sunken into the "Velvet Rut of Victoria," a well-known phenomenon where life is just so comfortable but not really going anywhere that you forget what the word hardship even means. The hardest thing I had to cope with was deciding which cafe to go to when mine was closed on holidays. Poor me. But dammit, I wasn't only becoming bored, I was becoming boring.

And that was when the world started coming together to cheer me on. A plan started to form in my mind. Over the next 3 months, I researched and read and watched and plotted my escape. But it was going to be a year from then, when I'd saved enough money to comfortably leave for months on end. Certainly not at the end of the summer! I started looking into proper gear, and I suddenly had a great reason to start walking around Victoria--to see how far I could go without sore feet! Summer was here and the sun stayed up late enough that I could go for 5km walks at night before dark. The weekends were beautiful, so I started following some of the walking paths around town and discovered that a 10km walk really isn't that far. I could do it in a couple of hours really comfortably. My first 15km walk led me all the way up to the Oak Bay Marina and around Dallas Road, where I found a path I'd never seen before, leading up to a lookout I'd always wanted to see but had never bothered to. But after each walk I did, I realized more and more that I wasn't going to be able to wait until next year. I was ready now.

And I was in this frame of mind when I met Eunate, a Basque woman visiting Canada to learn English and have a holiday. She was staying with a good friend of mine, and the first day we met, we chatted nonstop for hours, half in Spanish and half in English. I had forgotten what a thrill it is to use my second language, no matter how rusty. I had also forgotten how easy it is to connect to people when you are open to new possibilities. That night I couldn't sleep. We'd talked about the Camino, and we'd talked about life and how we must live each moment. We talked about how some moments are meant to be quiet and dull, and how those moments are there to urge us forward to the loud and exciting moments that are less frequent but far more memorable. She'd unknowingly convinced me that it was time to act.

Two days later, I was plotting my escape for real. Plane ticket and resignation letter and notice to my landlord and sale of my scooter. All in one day. July 30 goes down in my book of momentous occasions. And then the world cheered and confirmed for me that I was making the right decision.

Eunate and I were lunching at a local organic market when a lovely couple and their newborn baby sat down at the table next to us. They heard us speaking our wonderful Spanglish and asked Eunate where she was from. The Basque country of northern Spain. And where were they from? The woman was Spanish too--from Santiago de Compostela. What? How was that even possible? Here I was, a month and a half away from walking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, and halfway around the world at a little organic market cafe outside of town, I just happen to meet a woman my age from there. A woman who, when she found out I was going to do the Camino, insisted that she give me her Galician scallop shell, the symbol of the Camino and of St. James himself that all true pilgrims wear on their backpack, the one she brought to Canada because she'd had a feeling the year before that she was going to find someone here to give it to. As it turned out, that someone was me. :)