Today was the end of my third week. Three weeks of walking with only one day break. And today was the only day that I wanted to just stand still and stomp and be done. Done, done, done.
First, I got lost. The yellow arrows steered me wrong, and I ended up a half mile away from where I belonged, standing in the middle of a field of wheat and wildflowers. The farmer I passed didn´t even stop me to set me straight. I realized my mistake and trudged back.
Then, I finally found some more arrows and followed them on a busy, scary highway. Every once in a great while we have to walk on scary highways, but this one was worse than all of the others. The arrows disappeared again, and I got afraid, so I went back along the highway and waited for other pilgrims to come along. Two Austrians appeared and guided me along the highway.
There was really nothing wrong with the rest of the day, except for lots of walking along or on the highway and some confusing directions. It was the worst hike yet; that´s for sure. Some nice things happened, some very nice things, but they didn´t seem very magic. All I could think about was that there was a city up ahead with vegetables and friends and cathedrals and clean beds and hotels and massages and showers and internet cafes and I just wanted to be there. In three weeks of pain and blisters and rain and heat and fatigue and annoyance and discomfort, it was the first time I have ever thought, "Now why the hell am I doing this?"
It´s okay. I remember now.
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