July 4, 2018

…noise which encompasses in itself huge wheels rolling on pavement, rhythmic thumping of pile engines, blasts of a waterfall and crash cymbal hits pull me out of sleep. I turn on the light, get my glasses, my phone – it’s a little past four. It’s coming from the Canadian couple’s room which is right across from me. There are beds are being moved, something is creaking and booming, even wailing, at times water in the shower starts blasting, sounds of massive feet stomping. Cautiously I peek into the corridor and there, in the silence of the night the sound is even worse. I slip back into my room and pretend  I didn’t hear anything.

Less than an hour later someone’s knocking on my door – there’s no bread and the coffee in the thermos has ended. I rush to the dining hall –all’s gone! Someone happily filled their thermoses and also taken full day’s worth of food. Bon appetite!!! Whilst making coffee, I take the bread out of the freezer along with some buns then put them in the oven; then I get out some new jars of jam…my morning has begun.

The Canadian couple appears in the halls’ entrance, red in the face, their hour long rut dances have ended. Both are speaking in a polite, hushed voice that makes the hairs on your back stand up. That reminds me of one sleek Brazilian priest, who left such a mess in his room it took almost two days of ventilating and washing the bathroom walls to get it back into presentable shape.

Yeah, there are some travellers that leave a mental imprint with their “imagination”. For example, an Austrian couple, who made a pool of their bathroom with pieces of toilet paper floating around. Me and Andrea stood there in thought as to what could possibly be the ideological meaning of this, but were left without an answer. Or the Italian cyclists, who obviously exercised a certain kind of art form, that is… pissing on walls. Andrea patted me on the back and said: “That’s nothing, had you seen what some women do…” and I felt myself blush. Yeah… food for thought. While I’m setting up the table, both families come in with their kids, the little ones are crying, Mathias’s sister shows her tongue to her mom, crosses her arms and stomps the ground. Georgie is in a bad mood, he is high-pitch screeching and rolling on the floor. I choose not to see that and head to the garden. A couple hours go by until the two families have had their breakfast, put the kids in their buggies and moved on. It’s apparent now that cleaning will take longer than usual because the kids have been to the empty rooms as well. We get to work with sweaty brow, no jokes and no verbosity. Andrea opens the Canadian couple’s room door and shuts it right away. “Who stayed here?” I snigger- the Canadians, and proceed to tell him of my morning adventure. Daniel is passing by – “well…yeah…” and crosses himself. We put the furniture back in place, cover the mattresses and fasten the bed rack. Andrea is telling his distinctive jokes and we both laugh. His English with the Italian accent is very entertaining, every time he says “thirty, thirty-three, thirteen” or “here” my laugh devil awakens, because it sounds like “Teerty Tree” ( that’s exactly how it sounds – a heavy emphasis on the first “e’s” and and a sustained last “e” ) and it always lightens the mood. Antonio walks to the calendar and sighs deeply, THAT day is tomorrow. He shows me he’s about to cry.

Clock ticks past eleven o’clock when we are done with the cleaning, our eyes are closing, we had only three hours’ sleep tonight. I get into my bath tub and enjoy the magic… only to realise I’ve gotten into the water with my clothes on…

Priests announce that I’m free ‘til noon and I fall into my bed. The day is quiet, no adventures. A French man, around 50, says he’ll stay with us for another night, this being the forth, his leg still hurts. When no one’s around he’s jumping like a lamb, but then someone’s around he’s limp and groaning.

A couple of cyclists from Holland have arrived – two seniors, the gentleman is 80 and his lady is 74. Both have been riding from St. Juan. Inspiring! I show them into the best room with the big shower on the first floor.  A Spanish cyclist family arrive – a dad with his three teenagers. Upon hearing children’s voices  Andrea and Daniel literally disintegrate from the cabinet. Georgie has left a permanent impression.

In the evening I sit in the chapel trying to comprehend that there’s only one evening left here… My heart shrinks into a ball, tears fall and fall and are unstoppable, like the spring floods breaking out. I hear the priests coming up the hall for the evening prayer, I quickly dart out into the side door and sit in the tea room and bite the pillow so as to not scream.

After the evening ritual Daniel sought me out to say that Paul will arrive tomorrow, he’s gonna replace me, so I’ll show him around. Paul is one of my Spanish guardian angels; he gave me Daniels’ contacts. For a moment Daniel sits silent: “Do you remember how you were the first day here, scared of everything, looking around with big eyes?” I laugh it off-“ My eyes were big ‘cause I was holding my breath, because of the fish you guys served me.” We both laugh. Then I tell him how on the first day I was trying to water some plants and watered the plastic ones and managed to get the sacred writ soaked too, and how I dried them, how I confused the oil bottle for a vinegar one (and who’s the genius who keeps both in the same-looking bottles?) and richly poured vinegar over the salad only to take and wash them off, how I put salt in the sugar tray… Daniel laughs like he’s being tickled. “You really are a catastrophe, but your ex-husband is right, it’s hard with you, but without you colours wither,” and becomes solemn.

In the morning the priests are sullen – it’s the report day. Antonio is busy with the book-keeping, they have to report to the aqsaqals – how frequented the bedrooms for two, for four are, how much was received in donations, how many times the washing machine has been used, how much is spent on food etc, etc. The albergue starts filling up around eleven o’clock, the couple from Holland asks to stay another night, it’s so peaceful here and they want to rest a bit.

A little past twelve in comes a big man with a cross on a chain, walking quickly. Oh no…again? To my mind come the Canadian couple, the sleek Brazilian and a German with three crosses on his neck and a couple on his hat too, who preached psalms to all of us together and to each of us individually in the hall. The big man takes off his backpack and introduces himself – he’s a priest from Australia, they’ve reserved two bedrooms for four, but they happen to be one man too many, would it be possible to make some arrangements? Of  course, I answer, where are the others? They’re coming – very tired, walking from Carrion (another bunch of nuts, who decide to walk 40km in 30°C), the other priest and some seminarists are lagging behind.

Meanwhile yet another group of Koreans are making a fuss, three stand bent forwards and wasteful are Andreas pleas for them to take the backpacks off. While their chief has not signaled to do so they won’t budge, the forth one being the chief, has all the documents and is coming to check-in. Me and Daniel discuss which room would be best for them, the Koreans are early birds, they go to bed at 9 o’clock in the evening and get up at four, so it’s more about them not disturbing the others. The chief decides he wants to join the conversation and points to the bedroom for two and he’s asking if it be possible to make it cheaper (cheaper??? ) for two bedrooms for two, his argument being that they’ve arrived first. I take a deep breath and explain we don’t work by that principle. An argument ensues about the charges, because the guy really wants to play the chief. Meanwhile the Australian seminarists are coming in, young guys crossing themselves as they walk by and praying on their knees at the door of the chapel. I’m watching this past my tilted glasses and predict a “fun night”.  In comes the second priest of theirs, handsome, really handsome, I assume he’s shaken quite a few hearts. Nature has gifted him with a voice of velvet, there’s no attacking urgency in it, unlike the first priests, who, by the way, forgot to pay for the rooms. I rush to grab his hand and remind him of that. He laughs and presents the money saying to Daniel, that he has a stern boss. Daniel nods in approval and smiles.

This is my last night here in the albergue and the universe is apt with delivering the whole package of emotions. A fit, fair- haired Russian girl walks in, accompanied by a Korean guy. Coming all the way from  St. Jean, where she started her journey with her dog, a pug. She’d have a cart with a tent and dog food (what are the people thinking ?) and a backpack on top of that. She met the guy when she was having trouble pushing the cart uphill. After a week she decided she’s not going to travel with her dog anymore – flew back home, to Stuttgart, where she’s lived for the past 10 years working as a nurse in a retirement home. The guy waited at Logrono for two days for her.

An Italian – Ivan, who thinks my name and his are almost identical and that I could be his Camino wife, and the more wine he consumes the more his confidence in this grows until Andrea is forced to have a deep religious talk with him about God, sins, etc.The rest of the evening the Italian keeps his distance from Andrea. In all this hodge podge I accidentally mix the clothes of the two Korean groups and put all of them in the washing machine at the same time. When it’s done, all of them take the big basket, go out onto the lawn and go through it all. The problem here is that their socks were the same brand, so now they’re trying all of them on to determine the right size. I feel really bad about that. To try and make up for that, I take a box of candy and go to offer them some. Once they see me they spring up and start bowing, all of the sorted clothes fall back into the basket…today is just not my day! I tell Daniel that I won’t approach the Koreans anymore, I’m a catastrophe to them.

The Albergue is full again, I ponder how they’re gonna get things done tomorrow. It’s Paul’s first day, so I’m happy I got the chance to clean everything up beforehand. Later in the evening I leave Paul in charge and for the first time leave for the mass. The church is small, but with a magical power; true, however, can’t compare it to the energy of the chapel. Strange to see my priests in white and green robes, those are serious padres, Andrea is a little scary even. There’s something in him that shakes you up a bit.  I tried asking about his past and how he became a priest, but no luck, the only reply was that it’s a long story. I only know that he speaks four languages, climbs mountains and has at least one technical degree, fascinating knowledge in architecture, history. He’s good with computers as well, even writes his own programmes of some sorts, he showed me one page of code, told me that he wants to create a programme for a robot. I listen to his sermon and can’t contain my smile due to his Italian accent.

I look at the roles we play in our lives; Andrea, who’s at the altar holding a cross, doesn’t really resemble the one in the albergue, who hauls Georgie under his arm or fixes the drain, completely soaked, or who walks by me and shakes my elbow while I’m taking notes, and grins at scribbles I’ve made.

Antonio is unchangeable. It doesn’t matter what he’s wearing or where he is – he’s peaceful and stable. If there’s Antonio around, there’s a feeling of peace and security that he spreads.

Daniel is the most different of them all, he’s only two years into priesthood, but he’s had a previous life with a girlfriend…

At the end of the mass I tell Andrea that I want a photo with him, otherwise no one will believe me he’s a priest. The mass has ended and now he’s back to his rascal self who laughs addictively.

There is no big dinner on Sunday, the priests have earned a “short” day. But today we’re going to have a celebratory dinner in my honour. The monastery sisters have cooked the best of the best for me – shrimp stuffed sweet peppers and paella with shrimp.

Tono and Daniel are swift to react to my expression of suffering to note that there’s pizza and sausages, especially for me…my dear priests. The dinner prayer is said by all three in a row: “Lord, bless this food, bless us and bless those who have found rest under our roof. Oh lord, do not deny your mercy to those who struggle, give hope and light to those in the dark, send food to those in need. Bless Iveta on her way home, bless her wish of her own albergue, bless her to return to us. We thank you for the time spent together. Amen.”

I suddenly remember to fetch the salt, but actually while on my way try to suppress tears. We try joking at the table, but they fall flat. Even the jokes about Georgie, a postman and the old couple from Holland, who stole the priests’ wine, which in turn was stolen from them by Ivan the Italian, don’t work. Daniel asks: “ What are you going to do when you go back?” I say that I’ll resume my work with groups, consultations, massages and will study Spanish. Parallel to that I’ll be looking for an albergue for rent or to buy. – “That will be fantastic, just not too close to us, and not too far. We’ll come visit you for pancakes. And just so you don’t lose your way, we give you this signpost,” they present me with the yellow arrow for the travelers, and a volunteer’s shirt. –“ That’s so you’re sure to remember us.” Meanwhile Antonio puts champagne on the table – a gift from Raul, the deal was that I get on my last day here. Brut, sour, but I like it to be as lemonade. The last meeting together in the chapel, everybody goes through their day, and when it’s my turn all I can muster up is: “Thanks for everything!” and choke up. Priests take their phones out and start up the app, the prayer starts. Every now and then someone turns their head sideways to dry their eyes, it seems something’s in the air. When all’s cleaned up we say our good-byes. Andrea jolts up to hug me so hard my bones crack a bit, gives me a smooch on the cheek and doesn’t let go for a while. Tono hugs me, in Spanish fashion kisses me on each cheek, and so peacefully as if I were his parent. I put my head onto his shoulder, -“Well…but you’ll come back,” – and gestures that he’s about to cry. No need to gesture, I see it myself. Daniel doesn’t want to let go the longest, he’s gonna miss me the most, because of the talks which were rather rasp from either side, but always truthful. They go out the door and my eyes follow them until the road turns. – They’ll miss you. I’ll miss them, – I answer.

Dragging their feet, three seminarists are walking down  the hallway, all in black T-shirts, and shorts – just like ducklings. I inquire what’s the deal – the muscles or blisters?  Muscles. They can hardly bend their legs or sit down. I tell them to sit down and wait, meanwhile I run to get some cream.  The first “victim” is sat down, his leg on my lap.

-So tell me, how much  you love Jesus, Mary and the sheep.

-Sheep?

-Well yes. Where was Jesus born?

-In a manger.

-Right, and where was the manger?

-In a barn?

-And who was in the barn?

– Sheeeeeeep… I really love sheep…

While we chat my fingers work thoroughly around the cramped muscles. I know where it hurts most. The other two look at each other and decide to roll. This idea I cancel immediately and say –“You want normal legs tomorrow?” – “Yes.” So sit down and be a little patient. ” Finally the guy is moving his legs and exclaims – “Guys, I can bend my leg – I’m a hero!” I laugh, the second one to put his legs up asks: “ Do I also have to say how much I love the sheep?” I answer that we’ll see…

And yes, he loved the sheep, that was not only visible, but audible as well. One of their priests came down to see what was going on. The seminarists fly to explain that it’s a miracle, that that first guys’ legs have been cured. The priest looks at me and says: “ A Mother with a capital M, make your own albergue and we’ll come to stay!” While I’m massaging their feet I think to myself do they even know the path they chose, that in order to love God, they have to say no to loving a woman and making an offspring. This I will never understand. Just like Daniel stated in one of our discussions – “The God doesn’t ask for that, it’s all human imagination.” That evening our discussion crossed the line far out and ended abruptly, but I shut my mouth just in time.

Before the bed I light up candles in the chapel, this time for myself as well, and sit long while quietly, just with the candlelight.

Buenas noches, Iveta, buenas noches Espana…