Days 18, 19 and 20

May 05, 2018

Days 18, 19 and 20

Both days 18 and 19 were short days, about 12 km each, so that we could have more time I León. The city itself was beautiful, but the cathedral, built in the early gothic style, is the real jewel. The stained glass windows, which have been restored after they were dismantled and stored in boxes for years, are incredible and were specially arranged to play with the light. The cathedral itself faces east so that the front of the building will receive the first rays of light in the morning. Windows on the northern side, which receives the least light throughout the day, are wrought with deeper blue and purple tones, while windows on the south side are brighter.

After two short days, we pushed ourselves and walked 36 km, even though we had planned to walk only 25 km. Near the end of the day's journey, we came across an oasis with a gorgeous spread of food and drink available for a donation. The man who keeps up this pilgrim stop has apparently walked over 5,000 km himself and has kept up the oasis for almost 10 years. Just past the oasis, we came across a viewing tower, accessible by a metal ladder, which offered a spectacular view of the mountain climbs ahead of us and Astorga in the distance.

I've said before that the people of the Camino are really at the heart of this experience, and I continue to be amazed by the pilgrims I meet and the resilience each of them demonstrates every day. Being in León, around so many locals and regular tourists, really made me realize how simple life on the trail is compared to my life at home. With only a couple sets of clothing each, unlike the clothing we would wear at home, we are all stripped down. It's harder to make assumptions based on appearance and dress here.

I'm reminded of the first day of my walk, when I told Deb about my depression and she accepted me immediately. Without our aesthetic shells, we see each other more clearly--we can tell each other the deep parts of ourselves, the hard parts, wrapped up in emotion and pain. In our lives at home, where intimate and personal details are often taboo, these truths would separate us, but on the Camino they don't define us. When I tell someone I struggle with depression, they still see me, a walker, a seeker, just like them. We accept each other as we are, and move on, because the walk continues and we still have so much farther to go.

At a graveyard, perhaps before day 18, as the sun went down, free of pretention, Laura and I shared stories of life and death--how terrifying but wonderful it is to know and to be known.