Oh shit I guess I kind of gave away the ending of the story with a title like that…
But I woke up at 7:00 (happily sleeping in because we had the shortest walk of the trip today) and I was fairly confident at yes indeed I would make it to Santiago. We were only 5k away and I reasoned even if I fell and broke both my legs I could probably still crawl that distance.
The whe group stayed together the whole morning because we were very excited to all walk in together. And we were moseying along.
And then suddenly bam! Were in Santiago.
And as we got to the old town we all held hands and sang 500 miles by the Proclaimers. Which is my favorite song. And instead of singing “ba da dat da” we all sang “Billy blister!” Which is out name for billy because obviously he has terrible blisters and has become notorious throughout the Camino for that!
And we all walk around the corner together and come face to face with the cathedral!
Though walking into Santiago is difficult to explain cause you get there after walkin all this way and it’s not like its anticlimactic…but it is. A bit. I think it’s because by the time you reach Santiago you’ve Already figured out that the whole journey isn’t really about Santiago at all. It’s obviously about the people. And the lesson. And the way.
So we all kind of got there like…alright. Let’s go find a hostel.
Actually first we went and got our compostella! Which is like a wham bam sign that you get for finishing. And I got one that said how many kilometers I had walked and it was 775! That’s right.
Then we came back for pilgrims mass at noon. Which I wasn’t super keen about but it’s kind of like a good thing to do I guess when you make it to Santiago especially because I lied at the compostella office and said I walked for religious reasons. They don’t give you the nice compostella if you don’t!
And then I siesta-ed happily for like 4 hours.
That night we obviously had to celebrate. And the others had gotten like the whole floor of an apartment with a kitchen so we all cook. “We” meaning like Rosie and Claudia. And Csenge made some Hungarian dish that was like pretty much soup but she kept getting mad when I called it soup.
Well it wasn’t really the end for most of the group.
Because everyone but Billy, me and Mark were walking to finesterre. So while I was sleeping in until 12 they were all getting up very hung over I might add and walking again.
I had wanted to do finesterre for like a second. Everyone was going and I was convinced that I would feel bad if I didn’t do it too. But honestly I think it was that 35k day that really solidified it in my brain. Actually it was those last lethargic days with billy and Mark that just made me realize…there’s no extra glory in it. I was tired. I am tired. And on like a side hand Billy would probably be miserable if he walked it and he would go if I went. To keep my company obviously. What would I do without him?
So we slept in and then met Mark and Lars and Mark was in a state. He was hung over and sad. He had seen the others off and he was flying back the next day so he wouldn’t see them again. And he was just distraught. I knew he loved us. We finally had to split up again so mark could go take a siesta and try to deal with all his anguish.
We met back up with the boys later that night and had probably the classiest meal of the Camino at this italian place. And I got tiramisu! Which for anyone in my life would know is my favorite dessert. So I was pleased and full of espresso. And we let mark turn in early cause he was still not having a great day. And Lars had missed the 40 euro tour he had booked the day before because he was so hung over.
I mean I was fine but I still went to bed early because I have 35 days of walking to recouperate from.
And I’m doing fine.
The next morning we had to leave our nice hostel. Well nice is a relative term. But I had been living on cold showers so…
And we saw Mark and Lars off at about noon. Which was pretty heartbreaking. Mark was like a staple of our time and it was so weird. He just sort of walked around the corner and was gone.
And I cheered myself up by playing songs in the plaza. Actually before he left mark and I sang “The Rovin dies hard” which is this Scottish song that he taught me. And billy doesn’t like it but I think he’s just putting a front on cause he’s English and he doesn’t wanna admit to liking anything Scottish.
Billy and I wasted the day buying souvenirs because that evening we were busing to Finesterre!