purgatory

I´m kind of in between here. I´ve arrived, but I´m just not done. On Tuesday, I´m walking to Finisterre. It´s a hard walk, I´ve heard, and not just metaphorically.

It was emotional and amazing to arrive in Santiago. It was, as my mom pointed out, what I set out to do. But it´s not the end. I won´t be done until I´m at the end, the end of the world. I won´t be done until I´ve walked across Spain, across the Iberian peninsula, from the mountains to the sea, without getting into a motor vehicle. I won´t be done until I swim in my birthday suit on my birthday. I won´t be done until I look out over the sea and watch the sun fall over the earth, until I see "my home country invisible in the far distance."

Though I´m enjoying the celebratory atmosphere, I´m not able to really relax. I can´t let myself be really clean. I´m staying in a sketchy pension where I share a bedroom and a bathroom. It´s one step up from an albergue. But it´s cheap and centrally located and I can store stuff there when I walk west again. I could afford a private place. It wouldn´t cost much more. For some reason, I can´t quite allow myself the luxury just yet. To be clear, I´m no zealot. Later on today, I´m going to buy some damn clothing and wear it. No one will recognize me. And I´ll send my hiking clothes to the laundry. I even bought something. I bought a ring. It has red circles. It reminds me of the poppies.

Soon, I will live luxuriously with long, hot showers and a comfy bed. Right now, I´m still a pilgrim.