So after my ‘Day in Santiago’ I had planned to take the train back to Madrid but I hadn’t realized it was a holiday weekend a “puente.” In this case the holiday was Spain day or National Day also called Pilar. She’s the Patron Saint of the Spanish government and military. Actually, you are always better off planning for the possibility that any weekend in Spain might be a “puente” because they have so many. But I hadn’t and the trains to Madrid were fully booked not only on Sunday but also on Monday.
So poor me, I was forced to spend two additional nights at the most beautiful of Paradors and two additional days in Santiago. Second only to the old city in Jerusalem, the medieval part of Santiago surrounding the Cathedral is the most magical place I have ever been.
Every day hundreds of pilgrims arrive at the large central plaza between the Cathedral and the Parador. Many are merely elated and proud that they have completed the journey but most arrive visibly moved by the experience, with a feeling of self renewal, a feeling that their lives are forever changed, they have resolved questions or doubts, have reached within themselves and understand things they never understood before, they’ve had a spiritual awakening, an epiphany if you will and the combined effect is nothing short of electrifying.
Honestly I couldn’t have been happier to spend a couple of extra days in that magic kingdom.
I started my first extra day enjoying again the beautiful breakfast buffet at the Parador, attended the 10:00 service at the Cathedral so I could see the botafumeiro in action and then wandered the streets and squares of the old city aimlessly. Seems like at every corner there’s another church, convent, monastery or school to visit.
I stopped at different bars and cafes having a cortado, a tapa, a glass of beer, chatting with locals and peregrinos alike
buying souvenirs and trinkets along the way.
Later in the afternoon I got a text from my favorite Camino companions. They had also stayed an extra day and invited me to join them and about 20 other young pilgrims in the central square where they were gathered around tables drinking copious amounts of wine. Entirely appropriate, after all “no vino, no Camino” as they say.
The next day I took a tour to Finisterre, the place considered by the Romans to be the farthest extent of Europe, the end of the then known world, and to Muxía, where Martin Sheen ended his Camino in the movie The Way.
Everything was going great until the next morning when the bell man at the Parador was helping with my ginormous bag and the handle finally gave way under the excess weight of all the unnecessary stuff I had brought with me and the additional weight of all the unnecessary souvenirs I had purchased.
Mark Twain, paraphrasing someone named Michel de Montaigne, is quoted as saying, “I have experienced many horrible things in my life, most of which never actually happened.”
Like Mark Twain and de Montaigne, I too have experienced many horrible things in my life only one of which actually happened. And it wasn’t the handle of my suitcase breaking, it was losing Cary. Since then it’s been hard for me to really enjoy anything very much but I really enjoyed Santiago.
The train to Madrid the next day was great. Very comfortable and relaxing 4 hours or so with beautiful views along the way.
I was checked into the ME Madrid f/k/a the Reina Vitoria by 4:00 and had a full list of things I needed or wanted to do over the next two days before my flight home.
I wanted to go to the Thyssen, my favorite of Madrid’s great art museums, tour the Monasterio de las Descalzas Reales, from which I had been excluded the last time, buy gifts for the kids including Real Madrid soccer stuff for William, do some shopping for myself, tapa hop in the Plaza Santa Anna and the Mercado San Miguel and have lunch at Casa Lucio. Casa Lucio is among the oldest and most revered of Madrid’s classic restaurants. King Juan Carlos and I are both known to dine at Casa Lucio when in Madrid, most often on different days at different times. I knew there would be a price to pay if the King heard that I had been in Madrid and hadn’t afforded him the opportunity to meet me at Casa Lucio for lunch. So the first thing I did when I got to the hotel was ask the concierge to make me a reservation for 1 at 3:00 pm the next day with a table large enough for the King to join me, just in case. Oh yea and I had to fix my suitcase.
After checking in, I hit the ground running, shopping and tapa hoping til almost midnight.
And I always like to grab a pastry or maybe a churro and chocolate, something sweet is good after tapa hopping.
Next morning I had a nice breakfast at La Mallorquina at a table over looking the Puerta del Sol,
spent several hours at the Thyssen and filled my shopping bags with stuff for the kids on my way to lunch at Casa Lucio. Lucio himself greeted me at the door but alas King Juan Carlos was elsewhere. I had a great lunch.
After that it was the Convento de Las Descalzas Reales which was really amazing. I can’t believe in all our trips to Spain we had never been there. (Notice how I didn’t skip a beat when using the plural first person personal pronouns ‘our’ and ‘we’)
And on my way back to the hotel I stopped at a place to buy something to fix my suitcase. I told the guy in the store what had happened to my suitcase and asked for electric tape to which he said “pues hombre pienso que cinta americana sería mejor” (my friend, I think American tape would be better) and he then brought out a role of duct tape. I was surprised and said, “de veras, esa cinta se llama cinta americana?” (Really? This tape is called American tape?) And he said “si, yo no se porque pero si, esa cinta se llama cinta americana” (yes, I don’t know why but yes, this tape is called American tape).
He listened carefully when I said, “mire hombre, yo soy americano y no entiendo como puede ser que esa cinta se llama ‘cinta americana’” (Look here my friend, I am an American and I don’t understand how they could call this tape ‘American tape’) and he laughed with gusto when I continued “esa cinta tiene una multitude de usos pero el americano no sirve para nada.” (this tape is good for a multitude of different things but Americans aren’t good for anything). Self deprecating humor is the best.
After repairing my suitcase with the American tape it was more shopping and tapa hoping til after midnight and again I actually had fun.
So why is it so hard to enjoy life after losing a loved one? It’s not just grief at least for me it isn’t. I touched on my grief in my last blog post. For me, it’s also what the psychologists and therapists call survivor guilt. Grief and guilt, they both start with a ‘g.’ There may be some overlap but they are different things.
Classic survivor guilt is when you rush to grab the last seat on the life boat after the Titanic has hit the iceberg and leave your wife on board to go down with the ship.
Of course I hadn’t done that but it nags at me that I didn’t realize sooner that Cary wasn’t herself. How didn’t I know that there was something seriously wrong with her? Actually I did see that she wasn’t herself. She had been having terrible headaches and her personality and temperament were different but I thought it was stress. I thought a number of different things but I never imagined she had a hideous tumor growing larger daily in her brain. She hadn’t missed a doctors appointment. She had been through her annual physical less than 9 months earlier.
Everyone thought it was stress. She kept saying that she knew she would feel better just as soon as we were in the car, with San Antonio in the rear view window, heading to our farm in Vermont. I know intellectually that with GBM even if we had discovered the cancer sooner it wouldn’t have made any difference. But the guilt is still there.
So how does one deal with survivor guilt?
They say you should “acknowledge your feelings and recognize that they are part of a normal reaction to uncommon circumstances. Seek out other people for support. Share your feelings with a peer, friend or family member, join a support group and/or go for therapy or counseling.”
I see a really wonderful psychologist. I share my feelings, he nods now and then so I know he’s still awake and listening, and occasionally he makes a kind, understanding and supportive comment or two.
Actually it’s not unlike blogging. I share my feelings, check the stats and see that someone is paying attention and occasionally someone posts a kind, understanding and supportive comment or two.
But blogging is different than counseling because you don’t have to make an appointment in advance, you can blog when and/or if you feel like it, no one cares if your late, you don’t get charged if you miss an appointment and sessions aren’t limited to 50 minutes.
I think this is my 19th blog post since the start of my adventure. I feel like writing each blog post is the therapeutic equivalent of between 1 and 3 therapy sessions, let’s say 2 on average. So, 19 blog posts times 2 equals 38 sessions and multiplied by say $160.00? You can do the math yourself, but give or take a euro or two, I think I’m at least break even financially on the out of pocket for my Camino.
In every other sense I’m light years ahead.
So did I uncover any profit for myself on the Camino? I definitely did, in many many ways.
To all who endured the tedium of my blog, thank you
To Emily (and Devin), Hannah and William, I’m otw home, love you guys dearly and can’t wait to see you
To Carebear, my brown eyed girl, the love of my life, my one and only, G-d bless you always
That’s it, the last Jeffonthecaminofrances2017 blog post, I’m hitting the publish button
Buen Camino