First chapter: Expectations
“‘Expect nothing!’ Not in the meaning of ‘not using your imagination’, but don’t have your expectations block your mind. Open up and let your spirit free and be amazed!”
Peter Matthiesen (The Snow leopard)
I had been here before. I had stayed in the hostel in St. Jean Pied de Port. The smell of urine of a cat took me back in time to a former camino. How different life was then. A lively hostel with pilgrims from all over the world. I had just received my pilgrims passport and felt like a pilgrim for the first time in my life. In 2005 I lived in Güéjar Sierra in the south of Spain. I had taken the train via Madrid to Pamplona. Onwards with the bus to Roncesvalles. A bus full of pilgrims. All with the same sparkle in their eyes. Feeling like we were out on a school trip. Tina Turner was singing ‘Simply the best’ in the background. In Roncesvalles taxis stood ready to take the pilgrims to St. Jean Pied de Port. A few stayed in Roncesvalles to start their walk to Santiago de Compostela here. I had decided to cross the Pyrenees on foot to St. Jean Pied de Port, to return the next day as a pilgrim. I slept in a youth hostel that first night. As a pilgrim you are only allowed one night in a pilgrims hostel and I would be back in two days time. On that first day walking to St. Jean Pied de Port I met the pilgrims also on their way. I counted eighty persons. And they all frowned at me, wasn’t I going into the wrong direction?
Now I have this hostel completely to myself. I still have to get used to arriving alone and being by myself. No other pilgrims. Jeanine, the caretaker of the hostel, serves me coffee with some bread. She also has food for the evening. Soup and pasta with leftover wine from yesterday. It feels special to be back here, I feel welcome. The clock ticks the seconds away, but it seems as if time stood still here. The cat is cleaning herself on a chair next to the table.
The church in the village is decorated for Epiphany, with beautiful music in the background. I light a candle for an inspiring journey. I take a seat on one of the benches and I think about the things ahead of me. My thoughts are with Liesbeth, three weeks ago she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. I think of the people dear to me and about former caminos. Santiago de Compostela is my chosen destination again. I only have to walk to get there.
There is no snow in the mountains and yesterday the sky was clear every now and again. The train journey from Bayonne to St. Jean Pied de Port was idyllic. This train took me into the mountains, with sheep in the fields. It feels like spring is in the air. Maybe I just have to learn to rely on it that what is going to happen will be the right thing. To open up and be aware of what is around me. To be aware of who I am, my energy and power. Maybe it is going to be a journey of being helped instead of helping.
Today it is the 7th of January, the first Monday of the year. The cat jumps on the windowsill and through the open window, when I put my on backpack. She sits down on the pavement in front of the hostel and looks at me, almost smiling. As if she would like to say to me: “I wish you a good journey pilgrim, I can see you.” Maybe this cat has been a pilgrim in a former life, who thought: “I will return as a cat and I will live in St. Jean Pied de Port.” Maybe she is madame Brille, the former caretaker of the hostel who died some years ago. I leave St. Jean Pied de Port behind and I walk through a landscape waiting for winter to arrive, while spring is already showing its face. How wonderful it is to leave on this clear day and when I look back I can see St. Jean Pied de Port in the distance. A big camino heart is painted on the road. A heart that I will see many more times to come.
I am walking in a fog when I pass refugio Orizon. You can see only twenty meters ahead and suddenly the world looks much smaller. I hear sounds and it seems as if animals are greeting me. A horse in the field that I can’t see neighs and follows me for some meters, the vultures in the sky, the crows, birds of prey, sparrows, they all seem to say ‘hello’,or ‘buen camino’ in Spanish. Some moments I can only hear my boots touching the road and my irregular breathing. Does this first day resemble the fog in my head? I might think my head is clear, but the fog has to lift first. I just need kilometres of walking for that, kilometres to get into a rhythm. I look behind me and there is nothing to see, I look ahead into a void. The refuge isn’t open and I walk on. It seems as if I left the civilized world behind me, as if it is not present. It is very quiet here, so much that I am aware of the raindrops falling on my hat.
It wasn’t supposed to be raining today, but the first drops are falling down. I stop and put on my poncho. The sleeves of my fleece shirt are getting wet and it is getting colder. When I leave the tarmac road behind me, I soon walk through iced snow. It is hard to walk. I am hungry and I am trying to take off my backpack underneath my poncho, struggling with the straps of the pack. I eat the currant buns I carried with me from home. And already on this first day I am learning to accept whatever comes my way. To have no expectations. At first I was so disappointed that there was no snow. I don’t have to pronounce my expectations. I just have to walk and to find what will come my way. You can pronounce your expectations, and get disappointed. It is no use. There is snow, the road is here, the camino is here, that is all that matters.
Roncesvalles is deserted when I arrive early in the afternoon. The hostel is closed until four o’clock and I warm myself at the fireplace in the café. I am soaked to the skin by the rain and sweating. Every evening there is a pilgrims’ mass in the monastery. What a difference with last October. With almost a hundred people we then gathered at the altar for our blessing. We had to fight for a place. Today it is a different story. There are six people in the church. Together with three other pilgrims I attend mass. At the end of the sermon we are asked to approach and we receive a blessing. Five priests are singing. I feel protected in this centuries-old monastery. In my hand I am holding a ring, a little jade comb and a Saint Christopher. The ring belongs to Liesbeth. She gave me this ring when I left. She will have an operation during my walk and I am praying for speedy recovery. Netty gave me the comb. So I could comb every thought and every question that enters my mind. Saint Christopher from Lourdes will protect me on my way. We are sent on our way to Santiago de Compostela and it feels as if the camino has now really started. It is quiet outside in Roncesvalles and a foggy blanket has covered the place. It is time for some food and for the first time we are being served a ‘menu de peregrino’[1].