Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

August 30th, 2015 would have been a special day in the lives of my family. It would have been Mom and Dad’s Ruby Wedding Anniversary…40 years of marriage.  I still remember my grandparents 40th wedding anniversary in 1986- me, my brother and my cousins were given a boarding school pass for the night to attend a party held in their honour. I think back to that evening with incredible fondness- it was special to be a part of it (and their Golden Anniversary a decade later), and even back in 2013 when we were moving to France, I spent time trying to figure out how to be home for my own parents 40th anniversary in August this year.

In May when we were told Mom’s cancer was terminal, I booked flights for us to spend our 8 week summer holiday in South Africa, because Dad realised that a European holiday to commemorate their anniversary and visit us wasn’t going to transpire, and I was grateful then that I would be able to (theorectically) be with Mom and Dad, quite by unplanned fluke, and we could throw a momentous party for them at home.  And then, in the blink of an eye, that little wish, a little dream perhaps, was over.

Fast-forward through the weeks and as my summer holiday drew to a close, the date loomed up, which coincided with dad’s imminent hike.  By now you must have figured out that Dad is walking The Camino de Santiago.  Up until the 10th May this year, I had never heard of this particular trip.  You do Kili, you do Europe, you do The Great Barrier Reef, Kruger, etc,  but the Camino I had never heard of.  There was mention of Spain, Pyrenees, 800 kilometers, several weeks, and the term pilgrimage. Yes, Dad announced that once Mom’s journey had come to an end, he would investigate doing the Camino.

2 weeks later, it was all over, and there it was, the decision that Dad would head to Spain THIS September. After all, the weather is the best for it, and he didn’t need to put it off for 15 more months- delaying anything has always been a case in point with him.

So what does this pilgrimage entail exactly?

In English they talk of The Way of Saint James.  The ‘James’ they’re referring to was one of the original apostles, who was left in a grave in Santiago at the end of his life.  (I will spare you the overtly religious version).  Over time, the burial ground became a church, and was built onto over the centuries. And over those centuries, Christians took to walking across the Pyrenees to Santiago to attend the burial site of Saint James, as a pilgrimage.

The Camino de Francés starts in a small French village called Saint Jean Pied de Port (SJPP).  Travellers need to check in at the Camino office, but from then on, you can do your own thing.  You travel at your own pace, you cover however many kilometres per day that you can, you can sleep over in any type of accommodation that your budget allows.

For most Peregrinos (the pilgrims who walk from village to village, and then sleep over in the accommodation on offer, as opposed to the hikers, who would carry tents and possibly cooking equipment), there are hostels called albergues to sleep in.  They charge a fee between 5-10euros for a bunk bed.  The albergues also offer a Camino menu as sustenance (for a similar price I think).  With this set up, Peregrinos are partially forced into a routine: wake up early; do your ablutions, dress, and re-pack your back-pack before heading out by 8am.

In the next village, albergue accommodation is on a first come first served basis, so in high season, you either speed through the route for the day to ensure you get a bed for the night, or you can deviate off the popular track to stay in the smaller villages.

If you follow the guided path, the Peregrinos walk between 20 and 30 kilometres per day. The pilgrimage is a personal endeavour.  That said, there is a sort of…expectation maybe…to achieve a full Pilgrims Passport of stamps, in order to receive your Compostela at the end.  The Compostela is a certificate stating that you have finished the Camino.  (The Pilgrim’s Passport is dual purpose- it serves as an identification that you are a Pilgrim, which allows you to stay in the albrgues, and eat from the Pilgrim’s menu).

I guess solitary reflection is the key, because I have read that many pilgrims arrive at the end with a profound sense of internal peace.

All of the above I have discovered from various sources: I’m reading a book called The Path on my kindle, I have looked through YouTube for a home-made clip, I have found out various snippets from Dad, and have relied on the internet for more information. There is so much more to it; honestly- I shouldn’t really be writing all of this, being an ‘arm-chair’ traveller.  But if you’ve never heard of it, a little background info is necessary.

Why is Dad doing it?

There are various reasons.  Some are personal, and others are more obvious.

Dad has always enjoyed travel, and certainly more travels off the beaten track than the main-stream type.

Dad started farming for his parents when he was 16.  10 years later, his parents were still treating him as cheap labour on the farm, with no commitment to handing over the ropes, so he decided to ‘run away’.  In 1974, he booked passage on a ship to Perth.  Two weeks before he was due to leave, his and Mom’s paths crossed, on a very wet night at the Boston Country Club.  Mom was visiting Boston for the weekend (she was teaching at Richmond Primary School at the time), and my very shy Dad, who had quietly been nursing  beer in the corner, was coerced into taking her back to her friend’s farm much later that night. The farm roads were very wet and sticky, and of course, they got stuck in mud.  By the time Dad succeeded in leaving Mom at the Lister’s farm, Mom had fallen for him.

Dad still headed off to Perth two weeks later, and Mom spent the next 10 months writing letters to him, in the old fashioned manner C/O Poste Restante.  Their entire relationship was founded on a stack of letters that went from Natal, to Perth, then Adelaide, and Brisbane (I think).  A few letters crossed the Indian Ocean in the opposite direction, but Dad was working hard.  Towards the end of the year, Mom sent mail suggesting that they should meet in London for Christmas. Dad, as timid and conservative as you can imagine, dreaded the thought of meeting up in a London hotel, so he sent his reply that he would return home, to South Africa. And he did.

His parents committed to handing over the farm to him, and he committed to Mom. They married on August 30th 1975.

Their lives continued on the farm.  Travel took a backseat, at least until I was 12 years old in 1990.  Slowly, they began to take more trips, but always in comfort- hotels, child-friendly trips, in school holidays.  Dad mostly designed their travels with everyone else in mind. And of course, from 1975 until May this year, the longest time they were ever apart was when Mom cam to Centurion to stay with me when Alex was born. (or possibly in 1979 after my brother was born 9 weeks prem, and Mom (and I) stayed near the hospital until he was released).

I can’t put words down giving the reasons for his Pilgrimage.  Quite simply: Because he can.  He has nothing tying him down anymore.  He is on his own, and maybe he feels the need to reflect on what has been his life.  I can say quietly that the last 3 years have been difficult for him.  I don’t think neither Mom nor Dad were quite prepared for the turn their lives took when he retired.

And of course, anybody sitting in his shoes, watching how somebody’s life unfolded in a short space of time is challenging enough.

It was sad enough for me last month, sitting through a day when they would have celebrated a magnificent milestone, and feeling the emptiness of not having Mum there.

I think that what Dad is doing is an appropriate end (and beginning) to a major chapter in his life. Of course I have concerns, but no more than I should have anyway.

I am so incredibly proud of what he is doing, and even achieved in getting there. The style of his ‘new chapter’ travels are more involved than anything he’s ever done. He is teaching himself new things every day. Do you know of any senior citizen who has moved from the ranks of the basic Nokia cellular phone user to an iPhone 6 user?  He’s learning to drink red wine, and espresso coffee. He’s learning to adjust his routine. And we are discovering that he is able to chat to strangers, something we never imagined him doing.

I really enjoyed having him visit us here. He told me that he is happy for me now after seeing our quality of life here. Knowing this is a great sense of relief.

He has done 189 kilometers so far out of the 760-odd of the Camino. Daily updates indicate all is well with him.  I won’t bore you with too many more details here- I will leave the updates on Facebook.

And on that note, au revoir from all of us. I do hope that you are well?

Until next time, Xxx