Santiago

Dear Family and Friends
Afterall sleepless night, I decided to get up early and head to Santiago. The grief had been overwhelming. Due to the time change, it seemed as though Kobie had died on the anniversary of my fathers death-an uncanny coincidence. Once again there was a merging of experience, as I grieved for Kobie, I was digging into wells of grief for my father.
I left the hotel at 6:30 in the dark. The stars shone like diamonds. Usually when I left in the dark, I was walking on the road or in open space. Thus time, however, I was walking in the woods and even in a tunnel. I was struck that I did not feel scared and felt as though unseen forces were guiding and protecting me.
In theapy and bodysoul work, we talk about creating a safe container so that the person can safely do the work that is needed for the soul to come alive. I believe the long history and deep respect the Camino garners in Spain, and indeed all over the world, created the sense of safety I felt as I walked through unfamiliar territory in the dark. Strange that it is something I would never consider at home. I could hear a stream trickling along beside me at one point, and I knew from hearing planes that I was nearing the airport. At one point I think I might have startled some wildlife, but we each seemed to respect the others space. Darkness seemed to hold my grief and it felt right to be walking on the dark. It was also comforting to have the many markings and guideposts that are all along the camino to lead me.
By daybreak I had covered half my distance. I stopped for some hot chocolate and a croissant, then continued on to Santiago.
At Monte do Gozo where at one time you could see the church spires, now the view is obscured by trees. Several tour buses were letting people off who were walking down the hill and the 5km through town to the Cathedral. In the midst of all these people, it slowly seeped in what I had accomplished. It felt a bit surreal, but my step was sure and steady as I walked from the new town into the winding streets of the old town. I passed the piper at the underpass. His German Shepherd lying faithfully at his feet. I arrived around 11am.
There were asses of people streaming through the streets. It was Sunday, and the end of a week of National celebration if people had taken several days off from Tuesdays holiday.
The Cathedral was massive- opening onto at least 3 different squares- and the square at the cathedral entrance was packed with people. I was totally overwhelmed.
I did meet o young South Korean woman I had met many times and she suggested I go get my compostella before the line got too long, which I did eventually get to. It took the better part of an hour waiting in line with other pilgrims from many different countries. The man ahead of me had come also from the Northern route all on horseback.

Compostella in hand, I went to find my hotel because you could not get into the cathedral with a pack. I eventually found my hotel, a quaint little hotel close to the old town with very helpful staff. I headed into town and made my wayinto the cathedral. There were so many
people, I could not relate to any of it at this point, so I left. I found a group of people sitting in the sun having a drink, so I joined and was reassured that others felt the same way. The line to get into the entrance, puerta del Perdon,to see Saint James,is an hour long. It is only open during a Holy Year, which this is, and which is why it is such a zoo. We take some photos and I ask a friend to take some photos of me at the front of the church since I didn't do that when I arrived. A group of us had planned to meet at the fountain at 3 pm. Meeting everyone who gradually were appearing had the feel of a graduation - all of us successfully arriving after all our trials and long trek.
I had dinner with my two Dutch friends, Vered and Joost, and Peter from Denmark - Indian because we are all sick if SpAmish food at this point. When we walked back, Vered went in one direction to her hotel and Joost, walking along met up with our New Zealand friend who was looking for her son. We went into an Irish pub for a drink and met up with two young women from Squamish and Glasgow Scotland, and a young man from Holland. All had left from St Jean Pied de Port. It was a grand evening. We shared many experiences, and I shared with them my sadness about Kobie. Perhaps it was a bit of a wake. I left for home in the wee small hours of the morning.
I will wait for tomorrow to write about my day in Santiago - after my trip by bus to Finisterre. Buenas Nochas. Heather