The Adventures and Misadventures os Jacobean Route (chapter 3)
As we entered Galicia, there were long periods of rain. Thanks to this change in climate, the path, which used to be arid and stony, was now covered in green, shaded by leafy trees and many shrubs. It was really beautiful to see. But that wasn't enough to boost morale, because walking in the rain is a real ordeal. Everything gets wet little by little, no matter how covered and protected you are. The laundry doesn't dry, the dirty clothes pile up. Moods become a bit somber. But what I didn't expect to happen was that the French boot I had paid a small fortune for, which was supposed to be water-resistant, would get soaked on the first day of the rain.
On this stretch of the walk, we met a French couple of about 70 years old every night in the pilgrims' hostel. Despite being very reserved, they soon won everyone's sympathy. After the shower, while the woman washed both their clothes, her husband walked behind her as if he were her shadow, while they talked endlessly about the day's adventures and laughed at themselves. At night, at bedtime, they occupied a bunk bed. Every night she religiously repeated the same routine: after stretching out her sleeping bag on the mattress of the top bunk, she went downstairs, took out her dentures and put them in a glass of water, kissed her husband goodnight and went back upstairs to sleep. We followed this routine with tenderness, dreaming of one day having a love like theirs.
In the last few days, I joined a group of eleven Spaniards who were excellent company, always cheerful and patient with the combination of Portuguese and Spanish I used to communicate with them. We arrived together in Santiago de Compostela five days after crossing the border into Galicia and immediately went to the Oficina del Peregrino to receive the document proving that we had completed the journey, a document that has been handed out by the church to pilgrims since the 14th century.
At midday we went to the pilgrim's mass, where the priest blessed all of us who had completed the journey that day, mentioning our names one by one. Throughout the ceremony in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, eight people pushed a huge silver censer until it began to swing from the ceiling, sweeping the air from the altar to the entrance of the church, in order to disguise the heavy air of the church, packed with sweaty pilgrims.
It was finally time to celebrate! We set off for a seafood orgy right there in Santiago, followed by a route to the bars. The day after we arrived in Santiago, I found my Spanish friends wandering the city alone. We were all walking around like lost souls, not knowing what to do with ourselves now that the walking routine of the last thirty days had suddenly come to an end. That day, I went back to the pilgrims' mass and met Rahel, who had just finished her walk. Further along, sitting on the stone steps under the cathedral columns, Frédéric was showing off the soles of his feet to a photographer, who seemed more interested in the beauty of his face.
After three days of rest in Santiago, during which I was able to meet all the new friends I had made along the way, I finally returned to Brazil. My first step on arriving in Rio was to go to the trekking store where I had bought the pair of boots I had used on the hike. How could such an expensive boot have gotten soaked on the first day of rain, I asked the sales assistant. He looked at the boots suspiciously. Was I really complaining about a pair of boots that I had walked in for over 720 km and which were now about a centimeter worn on the sides of the soles? He then asked me to leave the boots with him. They would then be sent to France to be assessed by the manufacturer. A month later, the salesman called me into the store and handed me a new pair of boots, of a different model. The factory had authorized the exchange.
I went home happy with my new boots and pleased with myself for being a consumer who was aware of my rights. Three months later, I rummaged through my closet looking for my new boots as I prepared to climb Corcovado Hill. It would be a great opportunity to debut them! It was at that moment, while I was hesitating about going out in these boots because they hadn't yet been softened, that I remembered the process I had applied to the previous boots I had worn on the way to Santiago. During the physical preparation phase in Rio, before leaving for Spain, I had placed the boots in shoe molds to widen them slightly and ensure that I could wear them with thick silicone insoles and double socks. Sure enough, I had widened the fabric of the boots, making them permeable to the rain! Very embarrassed, I put on my new pair of boots and set off for Corcovado. The boots may have been new, but I was the same distracted person as always. Could it be that after walking more than 720 km and having so many different experiences, something had changed in me?
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