The Road Less Traveled

I am alive. Portugal is hard.

Yesterday I spent an hour and a half and walked 6 miles just getting out of Santarem, the village I stayed in for the night. I am used to the French Way, which is the Camino I did last year. It is incredibly well marked, and if you happen to get lost, all the locals know about it and can direct you accordingly. The Portuguese Way is not so easy. Because it is less popular, it is not as well marked (or maybe because it is not well marked it is not as popular...). I met a German guy in Santiago last year who had done the Portuguese Way and said it was really hard to find his way to Spain, so I understood it would be harder, but I had no idea it would be this hard. The yellow arrow marks The Way, and yet many times on this Camino I will be following the arrows, and then they just stop. I have ended up having to follow highways to the next village, and I've learned that walking on flat asphalt for 20 miles is really hard on my body.

I also stupidly brought a different pair of hiking boots than the ones I used on the French Way. Those old boots never gave me blisters, fit perfectly, protected my precious feet. But they were worn and dirty, and I had another pair I had been wearing all winter that I figured would do me well this time around. I was wrong. Because the boots fit a little too loosely, my ankles kept hitting the insides of the boots, causing bruising. To remedy this, I thought I would wrap my ankles and wear two pairs of socks, but the bandages I used to wrap my feet just caused burns on the backs of my ankles and the bruising was not helped. Along the way I angrily threw those boots to the side of the road and put on my running shoes (it's funny; I would see abandoned boots on the French Way all the time and wondered why anyone would leave them behind, now I understand). When I got to my stop last night, I couldn't walk anymore. It hurt so much to put pressure on my ankles. On top of this, I am not used to walking in such heat and sun, so I was completely worn out. I slept 12 hours last night out of shear exhaustion. The sleep definitely helped because I was still able to do the 31km (20ish miles) today, and my feet aren't as sore. I think wearing my running shoes is going to make a big difference, and I expect that in a few days I will be fully healed. 

It's interesting the reaction I get from people when they see me walking alone, like it's the weirdest thing they've ever seen. On the French Way, the majority of Pilgrims are solo travelers who meet other people and then end up walking together. It is not uncommon to see Pilgrims, even female Pilgrims, walking alone. In Portugal people are amazed/confused/concerned, which is probably why everyone has been so nice to me. Take these examples: yesterday I flagged down a guy after walking in circles all morning to ask where to go, and he gave me a ride to the highway and directions on how to get to my next stop; this morning a woman walked with me to where the trail began; just now a guy walked me to the hostel I'm staying at. Everyone is so kind here.

I'm also starting to get a little lonely. I have always been comfortable doing things by myself, and I'm still fine with walking alone, but it would be nice to have some company. On the French Way, I fell into a group of guys who I walked with half of the way, and when I broke off from them I was able to find other people to walk with. There were always people on the trail and familiar faces in the hostels at night. So far I have only met 8 other people walking to Santiago, and they are all older and walking at a slower pace than me. I would walk with them, but most of them have 25 or 30 days to get to the end, I only have 20, so I have to walk a bit faster. I understand that in Porto, which I will get to in about a week, more people start the walk to Santiago, so I'm hoping I can find some people to walk with then. Otherwise I might go crazy.

I think I am learning that my body has limitations. I have never been so hurt or broken that I haven't been able to keep going. Even on the French Way when my legs and shoulders were really sore, I could still push myself. Last night I felt pain like never before, and had a lot more respect for what my body can do. I wondered if I would be able to go forward today, but thankfully was able to. But man! That pain was crazy.

On the upside, a man named Miguel who owns and runs a hostel in Santarem offered me a job for two months at his hostel this summer. I started seriously considering it, because, why not? But then, I have to admit, I miss the good old USA. I do not consider myself a patriot; I think the way we pushed out Native Americans and enslaved African people and mistreated Latinos and continue to stomp on the working class is nothing to be proud of. I cannot say I am proud to be an American, nor do I think it is the best country in the world, and it is not the happiest either. But I love it. Can't exactly explain why, other than it is my home, I know it, I love the people, and I love the land. It is beautiful.