"What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us."
- Henry David Thoreau
Today I walked from Hospital de Orbigo to El Ganso. I covered 30.9 km, 19.2 miles, and 43,109 steps. The sun was intense from very early on, and the trail was very empty after 1 pm. I just decided to deal with the heat and push through to El Ganso. If there is such a thing as a one horse town in Spain, then El Ganso certainly fits that description. I literally stumbled in around 5, showered, did some laundry, and then chatted with an older couple from New Zealand for a bit. The New Zealanders (it feels weird calling them kiwi's) are both in their mid 70's. They did two thirds of the Camino 3 years ago, and now they're back to finish the remaining stages of the Way. I ate dinner with two retired Americans from Pittsburgh, (Go Pens) and a Scotsman from Edinburgh.
Tomorrow I will try and get a very early start because it is supposed to be very warm again, and rain is also forecast for the afternoon. I also have the toughest climbing of the Camino tomorrow since my first day going through the Pyrenees. I will have a number of significant gains in elevation to face, and there are several very steep descents as well. I hope to cover about 25-30 km tomorrow, but it all depends on the weather and how my body is holding up.
Before I close, I just wanted to share in regards to something that happened during my Camino stage in Pamplona, way back on Day 4 of my walk. I was all set to leave the city of Pamplona that particular morning, when all of a sudden a man came up to me and asked in very broken English if he could talk to me. I debated for a few seconds because I am often wary of strangers, especially in large city squares... where pickpockets, and scam artists often congregate. Something made me follow this man over to a bench in the city square and we sat down. I was in a hurry, and I was feeling a bit uneasy with lingering in the city for too long. The man's name was Fari. I gathered that he was a Syrian refugee. He shared with me that he had left to escape the war, and look for a better life for his family... away from the bombs and danger in his home country. He shared that it took him 9 months to walk through Egypt, Libya, Algeria, Morocco, and then Spain. When I asked in more detail about his family, the tears began to flow. As we shared a coffee in an outdoor cafe in the square, he began to ask me about my life, family, and the Camino. All of this was in a mix of Arabic, and our combined Spanglish! He said he was a painter, but he could not find work in Spain. It had been 3 months since he was last able to reach his wife and 3 children in Syria, and he was unsure if they were still alive. He seemed surprised that I was interested in their names. He smiled and grabbed the pen and paper I had pulled out of my bag to scribble their names down. His wife was named Madaci, his daughter Sara was 11, and his twin girls Aya and Maroua were 9 years of age. When I asked what they were like, his eyes began to fill again. Pretty soon, I started weeping myself. It dawned on me just how little hope this man had in his life. He was in a foreign country, trying to speak a foreign language, unable to find work, and not even sure if his wife and daughters were still alive. Before I got up to leave, I asked him if I could pray with him. We joined hands and I prayed for him as tears began to stream down both of our faces. I couldn't help but think how I was feeling sorry for myself over some sore feet and blisters, and this man had so much genuine hurt and heartache in his everyday life. I prayed for strength for him, and that he might reach his family, find a job, and one day potentially reunite with his wife and children. I prayed for Christ to come into this man's life. He gave me a hug, and for the first time... I could see a flicker of hope in his eyes. I told him I must go, and he said he would walk me to where the street joined back up with the Camino. He never did ask me for anything, but before setting off on my way... I felt compelled to offer this man 3 days of my budget so he could get some food, and possibly the means to try and contact his sister in Syria. He seemed shocked when I handed him the money, and he just kept saying Thank you Eric, Thank you Eric, buen Camino, buen Camino. I don't tell this story to make any kind of political statement, only to share how profound of an impact this man had on my life. I've thought about Fari and his family every day since we crossed paths, hoping and praying that he will get a job to support himself, find the strength to go on, and gain the opportunity to one day safely reunite with his family.
Here are some pics from Stage 18 & 19 of the Camino... including a short video of a musician I encountered just before my descent into the city of Astorga. I tried to get him to play our WV theme song... "Country Roads" by John Denver, but he didn't know that one.
Lights out.
- Henry David Thoreau
Today I walked from Hospital de Orbigo to El Ganso. I covered 30.9 km, 19.2 miles, and 43,109 steps. The sun was intense from very early on, and the trail was very empty after 1 pm. I just decided to deal with the heat and push through to El Ganso. If there is such a thing as a one horse town in Spain, then El Ganso certainly fits that description. I literally stumbled in around 5, showered, did some laundry, and then chatted with an older couple from New Zealand for a bit. The New Zealanders (it feels weird calling them kiwi's) are both in their mid 70's. They did two thirds of the Camino 3 years ago, and now they're back to finish the remaining stages of the Way. I ate dinner with two retired Americans from Pittsburgh, (Go Pens) and a Scotsman from Edinburgh.
Tomorrow I will try and get a very early start because it is supposed to be very warm again, and rain is also forecast for the afternoon. I also have the toughest climbing of the Camino tomorrow since my first day going through the Pyrenees. I will have a number of significant gains in elevation to face, and there are several very steep descents as well. I hope to cover about 25-30 km tomorrow, but it all depends on the weather and how my body is holding up.
Before I close, I just wanted to share in regards to something that happened during my Camino stage in Pamplona, way back on Day 4 of my walk. I was all set to leave the city of Pamplona that particular morning, when all of a sudden a man came up to me and asked in very broken English if he could talk to me. I debated for a few seconds because I am often wary of strangers, especially in large city squares... where pickpockets, and scam artists often congregate. Something made me follow this man over to a bench in the city square and we sat down. I was in a hurry, and I was feeling a bit uneasy with lingering in the city for too long. The man's name was Fari. I gathered that he was a Syrian refugee. He shared with me that he had left to escape the war, and look for a better life for his family... away from the bombs and danger in his home country. He shared that it took him 9 months to walk through Egypt, Libya, Algeria, Morocco, and then Spain. When I asked in more detail about his family, the tears began to flow. As we shared a coffee in an outdoor cafe in the square, he began to ask me about my life, family, and the Camino. All of this was in a mix of Arabic, and our combined Spanglish! He said he was a painter, but he could not find work in Spain. It had been 3 months since he was last able to reach his wife and 3 children in Syria, and he was unsure if they were still alive. He seemed surprised that I was interested in their names. He smiled and grabbed the pen and paper I had pulled out of my bag to scribble their names down. His wife was named Madaci, his daughter Sara was 11, and his twin girls Aya and Maroua were 9 years of age. When I asked what they were like, his eyes began to fill again. Pretty soon, I started weeping myself. It dawned on me just how little hope this man had in his life. He was in a foreign country, trying to speak a foreign language, unable to find work, and not even sure if his wife and daughters were still alive. Before I got up to leave, I asked him if I could pray with him. We joined hands and I prayed for him as tears began to stream down both of our faces. I couldn't help but think how I was feeling sorry for myself over some sore feet and blisters, and this man had so much genuine hurt and heartache in his everyday life. I prayed for strength for him, and that he might reach his family, find a job, and one day potentially reunite with his wife and children. I prayed for Christ to come into this man's life. He gave me a hug, and for the first time... I could see a flicker of hope in his eyes. I told him I must go, and he said he would walk me to where the street joined back up with the Camino. He never did ask me for anything, but before setting off on my way... I felt compelled to offer this man 3 days of my budget so he could get some food, and possibly the means to try and contact his sister in Syria. He seemed shocked when I handed him the money, and he just kept saying Thank you Eric, Thank you Eric, buen Camino, buen Camino. I don't tell this story to make any kind of political statement, only to share how profound of an impact this man had on my life. I've thought about Fari and his family every day since we crossed paths, hoping and praying that he will get a job to support himself, find the strength to go on, and gain the opportunity to one day safely reunite with his family.
Here are some pics from Stage 18 & 19 of the Camino... including a short video of a musician I encountered just before my descent into the city of Astorga. I tried to get him to play our WV theme song... "Country Roads" by John Denver, but he didn't know that one.
Lights out.
1 comment:
We also will pray for Fari and his family, Eric.
Probably more than anything else in life, these are the kinds of things that make us proud of you.
Your story has certainly touched our hearts. God help us all to look beyond ourselves and our own individual creature comforts and reach out to those who are hurting and suffering so badly, just as Jesus did as He hung on the Cross.
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