Alone Again…Naturally, Part 2

Read part one here.

Read part three here.

Steven has chosen a cafe with a glass front that allows him to watch for Drayton and me from a dry perch. I step in onto the temporary doormat of cardboard and newspaper and do a full body shake. “Have you seen Drayton?” he asks, chuckling at my wet-dog imitation. “No, I thought he was in front of me.” I replied with a shrug while brushing the water off my sleeves. I make eye contact with the woman behind the bar, “Cafe con leche, y dos azúcar, por favor,” as I place my mochila (my pack) on the floor next to a radiator that was still giving off heat. I ate my breakfast and ordered another cafe con leche.

I lingered, using Drayton’s absence as a convenient excuse. I knew that shortly after reaching Santiago I’d have to stop being a pilgrim and become…? After all, a person can’t possibly go through an experience like this and come out the other end unchanged. Before this I was unaware that one could penetrate their own psyche or soul at such depths. I didn’t know how fatigue and solitude would change me to my very cells or my smallest thoughts. Now I could understand why people did the Camino multiple times. It’s liberating to leave limited and disempowering bits of myself on the Camino. Also there’s something holy about the habitualness of walking a portion of the Camino, concerned only with having enough water and food, maintaining what little gear I have and the delightful mystery of where I’ll get my next cafe con leche. The day’s end is made official by the gears of the stamp inking my progress. Then I’m left to survey the monastery, convent, private or municipal albergue where I’ll take refuge for the night. This often came with the equally holy synchronicity of meeting pilgrims like Steven and Drayton.

Steven has his eyes closed listening to a Rumi poem put to music through my headset when Drayton arrives. It ends and Steven pulls a napkin from the holder to blow his nose. He clears his throat and turns to Drayton with a widely composed smile and says, “Hey you.” Concerned, Drayton asks, “What’s wrong?” Steven happily explains that he’s cried twice this morning. Drayton’s concern turns to a happy relief. Steven pays his bill, puts on his pack and leaves, but not before we all exchange a two-cheek kiss goodbye. I tidy my area, take my dishes to the bar, and pay. I zip my jacket and strap on my mochila. I step out of the modern cafe and return to the ancient route warming in the midday sun.

I’m not far behind Steven but the hills conceal him from view. I walk faster hoping to catch him. After speed-walking the better part of a kilometer, I stop, gulp some water along with some humiliation and accept the inevitable. Neither go down well, and I let out a sarcastic half laugh and begin to sing “Alone Again…Naturally.”

To be continued…