Day 7: Salas - Tineo (19 Kms)

So far, I will remember each place for distinct reasons:

Irún: the wonderful view from atop the mountain ridge, heading towards San Sebastián

San Sebastián: beautiful seaside city

Zarautz: vineyards!

Ziortza: peaceful monastery

Oviedo: starting point of the Primitivo

San Juan: camaradarie amongst pilgrims

I will remember Salas for my host, Miguel, the owner of the restaurant and albergue La Campa de Miguel.  But really, it's the restaurant that I will remember most.  This morning before leaving Miguel treated me to the typical café con leche, but instead of drinking it with a bocadillo, I ate one of Miguel's delicious biscochos (see picture below), home made and everything!  A highlight of the trip.  He gave me 1 slice, on the house, and it was so good I decided to buy 2 more: one to have right there and then, and the other one for the road.  Here's to Miguel, master host, master cook/baker.  A good man!

I started rather late today, 8:30 (blame it on the biscocho).  The first 2 hours or so, all the way to Bodenaya, were uphill.  I took a "feet break" there.

Then I continued walking for 2 more hours, until I got to El Pedregal.  That's where I stopped for lunch.

The last 5kms took me a long time, probably around 2 hours, even though the stretch was mostly flat and shaded, as there were trees all around.

I keep having to remind myself that it's not a race anyways.  I find that I'm growing increasingly restless.  I'm always in a hurry, often times one of the first to leave the albergue, and wanting to be among the first to arrive at the day's destination.  What is it?  Why?

In reflecting on my walk over the past few days, I'm coming to the conclusion that I have a deep discomfort, even dislike, with who I am.  In the eyes of the world I must be a nobody: no career, no family, no property, no car.  Nothing.  What do I have to show for my 42 years of living?  Seemingly nothing.

I know that God is not looking for any accomplishments.  In his eyes I'm a deeply valued person, created in his image, but I still feel massively disappointed with who I am.  I don't meet my own standards (nevermind the world's).  I feel like a failure quite often.

I guess this is what walking alone for long periods of time can do: it's like facing a mirror for a long time.  As you keep looking at it, you begin to see yourself without a mask on, as you really are.  You see the warts, the freckles, the imperfections, signs of age, etc...  I'm not as bad as I make it out to be here, but I'm certainly not as good and happy as I pretend to be.

I talked to Jennifer on the phone today, for the first time.  I miss her like crazy.  Her voice sounded like an angel on the phone.  Sadly, I don't think she misses me at all.  It looks like we will meet up in Lugo on October 3rd.