The Road to Santiago
It is Day 18 of my 20 days away and I am feeling both a lot of gratitude for my sisters who have been holding down the fort in my absence, as well as a dreadful need for a yoga class.
I am staying at a no-frills hotel in an excellent location in the center of Madrid, and am sitting on the tiny roof top terrace, sipping a mint tea (free coffee and tea in the lobby is the primary amenity, aside from 24 hour reception). I slept until 8 today and then walked to a chocolateria for Chocolate y Churros, a wondrous concoction my daughter introduced me to many years ago. The hot chocolate is served in a cup, but it is far too thick to drink. The churros are extruded and fried dough, kind of like a skinny and elongated plain doughnut, which one dips in the chocolate to eat. Breakfast of champions I’d say.
The experiences of the last few weeks have been amazing and scary and difficult and yes, potentially life changing. My brain feels like it is overflowing so I decided to slow down this morning and write. Having almost three full days in one place gives me space to step back from the almost frenetic pace of the rest of the trip. There are many things I want to tell you about my pilgrimage on the Camino but it is going to take some time to even begin to process all of the emotions I’ve felt, so to start I will focus on one part of my post-trip solo experience.
The small city of Santiago de Compostela was a major pilgrimage site in the Christian tradition after Jerusalem and Rome. El Camino (The Way) is something of a misnomer, because there are numerous paths across Europe which led people from all over the continent to the Cathedral of St James in the town which bears his name. So this is different from say, the Appalachian Trail, which has a set beginning and end point. Today, pilgrims take various paths to walk into Santiago after doing the minimum required 100 km on foot, some walk much further, and others do interim portions of routes as time and resources permit. The section I walked with my group started outside of Navarrenx, France and ended in Estella Spain, a distance of about 184 kilometers or 115 miles.
When I was planning my travels, I wanted to include Santiago since I wasn’t sure I would ever return to this corner of the world and getting to the end point of the pilgrimage seemed important. But one drawback of Santiago is that it is near nothing. The walking tour started and ended in the city of Bilbao, and although Spain’s transportation infrastructure is excellent, there was no direct connection via plane, train or bus from Bilbao to Santiago. I briefly gave up on the idea until my dad suggested I rent a car. Oh yeah, I forgot about the automobile. Ken and I had rented cars in Europe before and I am comfortable driving a manual transmission, so I booked a car to drive between the Bilbao airport and the Santiago train station. When I related this plan to our trip leader, she asked if I was familiar with reverse in European cars. I had no recollection of having issues on our prior travels, and I certainly remembered the technique in plenty of American cars, so I confidently laughed off her inquiry.
I arrived as planned at the rental counter around 9 am on November 1, my first morning after leaving the group. I was concerned because All Saints Day is a pretty big deal in Hispanic countries, and coupled with it falling on a Friday I figured there would be weekend travel issues. The line was moving slow, until a second colleague joined the women behind the counter to speed things up. There were two large groups before me and they both reached the counter at about the same time. One group was comprised of four older adult couples, the other was two couples with three teenage children between them. Both groups had apparently reserved an eight-person vehicle, but there were none to be had. I have the Spanish vocabulary of a precocious two year old, but could understand from the folded arms, eye rolling and heavy sighs that there was much displeasure at this situation. Phone calls, side bars with the mechanics and inspectors, numerous reviews of the key cabinet, the staff desperately tried to accommodate both groups. It bore a marked resemblance to the telenovelas I’ve seen on TV, and I was a little worried a fight was going to break out. After about 20 minutes, everyone seemed resigned to the fact that multiple cars would be needed for each group. Then the atmosphere quickly became more congenial, but I started to worry that they would run out of cars. I made a quick inquiry to the clerk and he assured me there would be one left for me. It took another 20 minutes to get all of the individual drivers registered and move the groups out and then it was my turn. The clerk was pleased to offer me an upgrade to a small Citroen SUV instead of the tiny car I reserved, saying that it would be more comfortable. OK, for free, sure.
Luckily the car had a USB port and my phone immediately connected and Google Maps began announcing instructions so I could stash the printed directions I brought from home. Getting out of the garage and the airport was a little confusing, but once I reached the limited access road, driving was fairly straightforward. The lanes and transitions are clearly marked both on the pavement (at least in the city) and by signage which is self-explanatory. I hit a bit of stop and go traffic in the first hour but after that it was clear sailing, through beautiful mountain ranges and occasional views of the Bay of Biscay.
The gas tank was only 3/8 full due to the high turnover at the rental car garage, so I needed to stop for gas before too long. I recall my guide’s warning and made sure to avoid the need for reverse. Success! Back on the road with a full tank for the car and a coffee for me. After another two hours the car is warning me to take a break, but there are no service plazas and as I want to get into Santiago before dark, I am reluctant to risk the presumed delays of driving into a town. After a while I see a gas station just off an interchange so I pull off and carefully make a u-turn to park across the street along the curb. I run in for another pit stop and stretch a bit before jumping back into the car to finish the drive.
When I arrive in Santiago, the directions do not lead me to the giant parking lot I envisioned at the train station, but to a stand alone car rental office on a city roundabout. Hmmm. I pass by once before circling back (I may have run a red light, but in my defense the light had started to flash and I was going very slowly) and decide to park in the roundabout to catch my breath and figure this all out. The office is closed, which I expected, and I see the key drop box, also as expected, but what the heck am I to do with the actual car? Then I see a notice above the drop box, fortunately with an English translation, which indicates that one is to leave the car in a nearby parking garage and then return the key and parking ticket to the box.
Ok, back in the car. The garage is only a few blocks away and traffic is manageable. When I see the garage, I hesitate. The entrance drive is curved so sharply off of the street that I almost go in the exit by mistake. There is a group of senoritas standing on the sidewalk and I give them a good laugh as I negotiate the tighter turn into the entrance. Then I am in the garage, wishing I had insisted on the smaller rental car. The place is tiny, dark and nearly full. I see a few spaces but clearly reverse will be needed for those. I move forward, hoping for better options. As I turn the corner there is a space ahead which doesn’t contain a column like the majority of them, but reverse will be required. How hard can it be? I stop and engage the clutch and attempt to find reverse. I try pressing down on the gear shift, look for a button, something, anything, but nope, not happening. Nearing tears, I consider getting out to ask one of the girls if “Puedes conducir un coche?” And then, I look up, and at the end of this aisle there is an open space. I cut the wheel as hard as I can and inch forward to steer back into the aisle and pull ahead. I have to get out to fold in the mirrors before I can pull between the column on the left and the car on the right, but I am in. I say a prayer of thanks for this miracle.
Gathering my luggage takes some time. Do I have my phone charging cable? What did I do with the plug?! After locking the car, I walk down the hill back to the key drop and then walk back up the same hill to head for the hotel. The pack is heavy on my back and my suitcase is rattling awkwardly on the cobblestones, but the Cathedral is along my path and I look up and the late day sun is lighting up its opulent face. I may have driven the last 360 miles into Santiago but I feel all of the awe of the medieval pilgrim. I have arrived, maybe with a sign that there is no need for me to use reverse anymore. Will be back with more stories from the Camino after I return home.