Grant's foreword:
If you don't know by now, Dan is a very nice Englishman in his late 20s who I met a week into my Camino in Grañón. We connected very well and have been walking together ever since. Dan majored in English Literature, which I believe shows in the following post. He enjoys beer, reading, playing cricket, engaging in deep talks, and beer.
Today we are staring into the abyss of the new. Our tranquil, intimate Camino has washed away with the rain and the muddy bootprints of the swarms of part-time pilgrims. I woke up with a head full of beer and the voice of someone who spent today’s joy yesterday. I dragged myself to breakfast, coughing up yesterday’s cigarettes and tried to behave like a normal person. I think I got away with it - just. I rang my mother: in England it is Mother’s Day. We were turned away by the monastery we were planning to stay in, which summed up the morning. We decided not to walk. It was pouring with rain.
I went back to the cafe and found that Eva had drawn another beautiful sketch. Watching her draw is a joy.
I then went to church with Grant and Sam. When you stare into the abyss, it stares into you. But, being unable to understand the words makes church great thinking time, and I had a very earnest think. Coming towards the end of the Camino is bittersweet. I don’t want it to end, but I also yearn for the taste of English beer, the smell of a good cricketing day, and playing football with the lads on a Monday night. After lunch we checked into the albergue and I went to the bar. How do you pass the time on a Sunday afternoon except to drink the day away?
I wrote in my journal and drank wine. It was lovely. I tottered back to the albergue in good spirits and took a shower. I had my first ever siesta and woke to join the guys for dinner - we call it tea in England.
Then I drank a couple of beers and went to bed.
Some lessons I have learnt:
If you care, let them know.
Conversation is about sharing. It is not rude to talk about yourself.
Express your emotions.
Laughing clears the lungs.
Listen: do not wait for your turn to speak.
Boys don’t cry - but real men do.