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Camino de Santiago: Advice, and Things Learned

kathleenjowittLeave a comment

This is going to be a somewhat mixed bag. It’s all the result of (sometimes bitter) experience. Some of it will refer specifically to the Camino Francés; some to pilgrimage in general; some to any kind of long-distance walk. Pick and mix, as you feel moved. I may come back to this and add bits as I remember them.

– I think pretty much everyone reading this will already have worked this out, but it’s still top-of-the-list important, so I’m still putting it down. Know at least a bit of the language of every country you’re going to pass through. That tiny bit of consideration makes the people you meet that much more likely to want to help you. Even if it’s just to order a cup of coffee. And yes, there are still places where people don’t speak English, and yes, there will come a time when you need to ask for help.

– Rest days are important. It’s horribly tempting just to press on, because yes, I know that I can easily walk another 10km before dinner, but before you know it, it’s 30km through waist-deep snow, and you’re exhausted. (I exaggerate, but only slightly.) Keeping on doing that day after day ruins your feet and your knees. There is no shame in walking only 5km in a day. Or 1km. Or not walking at all.

– You can get away without earplugs, so long as you’re always the first one to bed and are a sound sleeper. But there are people who snore at a quite remarkable volume.

– Look after your feet. My own personal routine went like this: in the evening, wash, dry, talc, sleep. In the morning, vaseline, let it soak in, socks, boots. Liner socks + hiking socks. Well-fitting boots. I didn’t get a single blister until I was actually in Santiago de Compostela, and spent too long wandering around in sandals that didn’t quite fit.

– If you have a pair of telescopic walking poles, people will mock you, but it’s worth it.

– Looking back on it, waterproof trousers would probably have been a good investment, particularly in the snow. The problem was not so much walking through it, as melted snow running off my [waterproof] rucksack cover and soaking me from the waist down.

– It’s quite nice to have a map, for moral support, but once you’re well into Spain you can just follow the waymarkings.

– Do practice walks. Do practice walks with a heavy rucksack, because that’s the part that’s wearing: it’s not the walking (well, it is the walking, but you know what I mean) but the carrying.

– Speaking of heavy rucksacks, make yours as light as possible. You do not need: razors, deodorant, bivvy bags, books, inflatable mattresses, binoculars, makeup.

– I always set out with 2l of water, which was probably too much – I only finished that on a couple of days, and I’m pretty sure we passed fountains on those days. Do take water, though.

– You will end up stinking, but so will everybody else you meet. Just don’t take clothes you’re particularly fond of, and shower whenever you get the chance.

– This is a useful diagram depicting the stuff you actually need.

– You’ll be doing a lot of laundry by hand. Safety pins are good for attaching socks, pants, etc, to the back of a rucksack to dry along the way. Not if it’s raining, though, obviously.

– Hi-tech fabrics tend to be beautifully light, but may not dry very fast. Try it out at home.

– Soap is soap. We ended up using cheapo shampoo for hair, body, and clothes – though be careful if you have sensitive skin, of course.

– Useful things: a credit card and a mobile phone.

– There is always somewhere to sleep. There was only one day in seven weeks where we had to walk on to another village to find a bed.

– The Confraternity of Saint James are very useful people.

– Compeed is fantastic stuff, but do NOT repeat NOT put it on blisters that have burst. The result is painful.

– Don’t leave your walking boots too close to an open fire, no matter how sodden they be.

– I had a navy blue Guernsey sweater. While this was relatively heavy, most days I was wearing it, so didn’t notice. Most importantly, I didn’t have to wash it once.

– Take as few valuables as possible, and keep them with you. There are no safes.

A very slow-cooked post

kathleenjowittLeave a comment

I seem to have been learning a lot this year; or perhaps I have been coming to understand things that I only knew before. If you’ll excuse the franglais, I am beginning to connaitre things that previously I only savais. In the process, several disparate things are beginning to join up. Take this, the end of an extremely rambling comment on someone else’s journal (a good couple of months ago, I must admit – this post has been a long time in the writing):

That said, from the comments above it does appear that it can be a useful exercise for some people, and at the moment I am trying very hard to remember that what works for me may not work for someone else, and just because something doesn’t work for me doesn’t mean it won’t work for other people. But that’s another story.

This is the other story. If you like, this is the first story, because I have been thinking about this for a while, whereas I only realised that the comment above could be applied without redaction to either issue when I read that particular post and the comments. Things are joining up.

I started thinking about this around Christmas, when somebody updated a Farcebook status to read something like: ‘I wonder what Carols from Kings would be like if you added a worship band?’ I contributed little to the subsequent discussion other than some rude remarks about John Rutter, but things happened in my head.

Now, the Nine Lessons and Carols works for me, just as it is. Trust me. The music works, the readings work (Authorized Version or no Authorized Version, but I do like the cockatrice); the bidding prayer takes my breath away. It works for me in a way that drums and arm-raising never have. Now, you can look back on my life and say ‘this is because X, Y, and Z’ – which will include but not be limited to the fact that this is what I grew up with – but this does not make it any less true. This works for me.

It is only recently that I have come to appreciate the converse of this: that drums and arm-raising work for some people in a way that the Nine Lessons and Carols service never has. That, when they say this, they mean it: that it is true. More importantly, that there is room for both of us and room for both our traditions. That I can express my spirituality through early twentieth century Anglican liturgy, and all manner of choral music. That other people can express their spirituality through lively movement. That, although the one doesn’t work for them and the other doesn’t work for me, neither of us ought to stop doing what works for us. That there is room for both of us.

I will tell you what would happen if Carols from Kings suddenly sprouted a worship band: it would stop working for some people. Some other people would suddenly understand what it was all about. And you can write your own Daily Mail headline.

Things work for me in a way that they do not work for you. Things work for you in a way that they do not work for me. In short, YMMV. (O internets, how great is ur wizdmz!) We find God in different places: how obvious. We knew that already, surely? But still it happens. In every tradition, there arises sooner or later a tacit or spoken assumption that everyone who doesn’t do it Our Way is DOIN IT RONG. Every tradition, I say. (I should point out that my examples all come from the rich battleground of Christianity, this being what I have come across in my own experience thus far. I am convinced that other faiths could provide their own examples, but I rather feel that it is not my place to do so.) There is, in one camp, an assumption that all who do not say mass facing the altar are little better than heathens. In another, that a choir that includes females in any capacity is not a Traditional Choir. Or, ‘move around! stop worrying about what your body does! stop being self-conscious! if you’re self-conscious you can’t be God-conscious.’ No. I only half-believed then, and I do not believe now, that my self-consciousness was a fault, to be cured by more leaping around. It was a manifestation of my discomfort with that style of worship.

That style of worship did not work for me. And that, my friends, is absolutely fine. And if my style(s) of worship do(es) not work for you, that is also fine. If you have found one that does, hold on to it.

Do not get me wrong. I am not suggesting for a moment that you should never try anything new. Quite the opposite: never be afraid to try anything new. But, if you try something new, and it doesn’t do anything for you, for heaven’s sake don’t feel guilty about it – and don’t believe anyone who thinks you should, because This Is The Right Way. It is. But it is the right way for them, and it may not be for you.

Hier Stehe Ich; Ich Kann Nicht Anders

kathleenjowittLeave a comment

Here I stand. I can do no other. Except, you know, I can. I have always promised myself that, if it came to it, I would. That, if the Church of England did something so egregious that I could no longer countenance belonging to it, I would leave. That if it came to a choice between the Church and the Kingdom, I would choose the Kingdom.

And yet here I stand.

It is not that the Church has failed to do anything egregious enough. On the contrary; it feels as if it has been doing it every day of this year. Today’s news alone (assuming for the moment that there was more to the whole thing than vicious rumour) was more than enough to make me wonder. The worst of it? I wasn’t surprised – just very, very disappointed.

Why do I not go down the steps and cross two streets to the Friends’ Meeting House? I have thought about it, believe me. Have I become one of those people who only goes to church for the music? (No. I’m married to one, so I can tell the difference. He keeps saying he will post about this.) Here I stand. But it’s not as if I can do no other. There are plenty of other options.

Why don’t I?

First things first. My church isn’t going anywhere. And my church has a poster outside that reads:

BEWARE

Here we preach the inclusive gospel of Jesus Christ.

This means you may be mixing with tax collectors, sinners, adulterers, hypocrites, Greeks, Jews, women as well as men, female and male priests, homosexuals, lesbians, the disabled, dying, thieves and other sinners; white people, black people, Asians, and people from other races; Muslims, Bishops, bigots, people of other faiths, strangers from Rome and Nigeria, heretics, etc., etc.; and yes even you, dear guest, are most welcome

in fact anyone like those who Jesus mixed with.

So beware, this is not a private club.

WELCOME TO ALL!

It would be cutting off my nose to spite my face to leave such a fabulous, supportive, spiritual community simply because of a real or perceived shortage of vertebrae in Lambeth or real or perceived shit-stirring in Gafconville.

So here we stand. Why don’t we move? Because we don’t see why we should have to. We believe in a Church that asks people in, not one that turns them away. Because we don’t see why the party that wants to turn people away should have the casting vote in a faith that welcomes strangers. Because we are not prepared to move over to accommodate people who will then spread their knees out to occupy the entire bench, and allow only those who are Like Them to sit down.

But it is more than that: we believe that we should not. We believe in one holy, catholic and apostolic Church – and we, who believe that all should be invited in, are going to be neither the ones who leave it nor the ones who hold it to ransom by threatening to leave it. We will not leave, because we believe that we are welcome as we are.

And then there is this: for as long as I remain in the Church of England, I know that there is one person in the Church of England who will welcome LGBTQ people into it. For as long as my church remains in the Church of England, I know that there is one parish in the Anglican Communion that will display the message that ends ‘WELCOME TO ALL!’. And if we leave, who will do that? Or, rather, if we leave, why should others stay?

There are people who do not like the way I think, the way I love, the way my faith is. They are pushing me, and those who think like me, and love like me, and whose faith works the way that mine does; they are pushing us to leave. But, so far as I can discern, no one is calling me to leave, and that makes all the difference.

Here I stand.