Jeremiah Grooms: Buen Camino

Like a stereotypical, Hollywood-depiction of the beginning of every meeting with a psychiatrist, I will ask you, the reader, to close your eyes and picture a scene with me: it’s mid-afternoon in the south of France, a cool breeze of 58 degrees is lightly caressing your skin, the sun is setting and projecting pale-red beams of warmth on your face. You’ve finished your first full day of hiking; your body, while slightly sore from the strenuous trek of the day, is painfully optimistic.

In the Pyrenees mountains with Vierge d’Orisson - a statue of the Virgin Mary

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I was only four days into my month-long Camino pilgrimage and already, after only two days of hiking was beginning to feel overwhelmed. As I sat, overlooking one of the most picturesque canyons that I have ever seen, I smelt the smoke of tobacco burning. I looked over to my right and saw a man beginning to puff on his cigar. I, being the deep-thinker I was, began to create a multitude of possible biographies for this cigar-smoking, middle-aged man. Turns out, after a quick introduction, that his name was Ricardo; he was a specialized mechanic, diver, newly re-married husband, a lover of adventure, tobacco connoisseur, and a protective son. We talked for a while about our individual lives, discussed how we came about discovering the Camino, our purpose in walking, and exchanged funny stories from our trips thus far. At one point, I asked him what he hoped to gain from the Camino and if he expected to experience a life-altering moment. Deep in thought, he said, “Well, I saw something on BuzzFeed before I came and there was this word: Aprovechar. It supposedly means to ‘take advantage of’. I don’t know if it’s real or not, but I’m sure as hell going to try to live it out.” We laughed for a minute at the satirical reference of BuzzFeed in a serious conversation and then ventured inside our albergue to share dinner. 

While this is a comical story, it had a significant impact on my journey for several reasons. One, it was a very needed reminder to not take the trip, my life, and myself so seriously. Two, I realized that people would be one of the most impactful parts of my voyage. Lastly, I was on my way to discovering that the adventure I was desperately chasing after was carefully hidden in taking advantage of the insignificant, hard, minute, routine, and adventurous moments. When beginning the trip, I had so many expectations of the internal growth, life-changing moments, and deep-thinking epiphanies that would occur that I had almost blinded myself. While life is a fantastic philosophical journey, it is best lived in moments of authentic, often difficult, experiences. A quote from the parable in The Art of Pilgrimage sums it up nicely: “Live first; then turn to philosophy; but in the third place, live again.”  

Cathedral in León

When reminiscing the memories from my time in Spain, I can’t help but be reminded of the countless awe-inspiring moments and places; towering, ornate cathedrals, natural beauty from mountains/rivers/open country, historical landmarks, intricate architecture, incredible food, and some of the most intriguing individuals. Cultural differences were everywhere: food was unique (think siesta in small towns, smaller meal portions, a highly social aspect of meals, very little ‘fast food’, etc.), the business culture was less a part of individuals’ identity, and religious and political differences were distinct. For nearly twenty-six days, I was consistently bombarded with a new experience, a new memory, and a new space. Every day was a challenge in its own way – a call to accept the unfamiliar and unknown.  

Through interaction with individuals of different political, economic, geographic, and cultural backgrounds, I regret the fact that I, until traveling abroad, had failed to truly expose myself to opinions that differed from mine. When I think about our country and its legacy, there are a lot of things that Americans can pride themselves in: fried chicken, spray-cheese, football, rock-n-roll, Apple, and well, the selfie stick. When traveling abroad or when conversing with foreigners, it’s always entertaining (and a little humbling) to hear about things that are considered to be ‘American’. Valid or not, a stereotype exists that Americans are cocky, nationalistic, egotistic, resistant to change, and oblivious to other cultures. I believe that there’s a sense of responsibility and pride that one should have for its native country when abroad – a standard of behavior that seeks to leave an honorable memory, challenges negative stereotypes and respects the standards/customs of any other country. In a very democratic, American way, I had unconsciously assumed that my opinions were supreme and self-sufficient. 

In my last weeks of walking on the Camino, I met a German girl, college age, whose name was Hannah. In the fashion of most occurrences on the Camino, an interaction that seemed trivial or ‘courteous’ ended up playing a significant role in the journey. We quickly became comfortable with one another and decided to walk together as long as the Camino would allow. While we would walk, occasionally one of us would think of a question to ask. Sometimes the questions were lighthearted, quite personal, intellectual, humorous, or just dumb. One afternoon, as we were getting close to our destination, Hannah asked me a question regarding the presidential race; specifically asking about my opinions of the growing tensions in the race between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. I remember giving a pretty half-hearted response – one that was full of indifference and appropriate neutralized fact-stating about both parties. A deafening silence began to crescendo, as I heard no reply from the typically chatty Hannah. After a few moments, I glanced to catch a glimpse of her face. Much to my surprise, several tears were slowly streaming down her face. My immediate response, feeling helpless, was to think and say aloud: “My fault Hannah, I knew I shouldn’t have talked about politics.” She gathered her voice and wiped her tears and slowly began to explain why she was upset. In fact, it was not my opinions regarding politics that upset her; rather, it was my apathy that hurt her. 

Ranjan Adiga stated in his article (“Even an Earthquake Can’t Stir Student Empathy”): “Students must be trained to think like non-Americans…Empathy is as much about inquiring as it is about caring.” Although I had grown up understanding the importance of empathy, compassion, global awareness, and taking personal responsibility – I had somehow disconnected this empathy from the political climate of my country and how it related to others. The idea of nuclear war, trade disagreements, global conflict, racism, third-world/domestic poverty, and the plethora of other hot-button issues bothered me. For Hannah, however, it affected her deeply. In a non-heroic or overdramatized way, this was the moment I wanted my perspective and behavior to be different when returning home. If “modesty and humility and self-questioning [are] a desirable and sound exercise for being truly human...” then something had to be different. While political, religious, and moral ideals are the foundations for our worldviews, they must never hold a place so untouchable as to be sealed off from opposition.

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For most pilgrims, the ending point of the Camino is Santiago, specifically, the Santiago de Compostela Cathedral. When you arrive in Santiago, there’s a sense of urgency and anxiousness in the air. Pilgrims, who have been walking anywhere from a week to months on end, are struck with a feeling of accomplishment and reverence when reaching the sacred destination. It’s an emotional moment for most: some cry, laugh, dance, collapse, pray, sing, photograph, and some just stare on in apathy – too exhausted to react. For myself, it was a combination of all of the above emotions. Even in the presence of something so breathtaking and so unfeasible as the cathedral, I still did not feel completely content with my journey.

 View of Muxía on the Monte Corpiño

For myself, Muxia was the ending point straight from my daydreams - a quiet fishing village, full of locals, picturesque landscapes, and serenity. As I hiked into the town, my heart fluttered leapt as I walked along the high-standing cliffs above the ocean. Finally, my soul had found a space where it could be free, open and content. As Yi-Fu Tuan stated, “place is pause; each pause in movement makes it possible for location to be transformed into place.” This sweet town, overlooking the sea, served as a place of refuge. Not only as a place of rest and recovery but as a mental and emotional landmark that signified completion and contentment for my soul. It was here that I knew that I had taken advantage of all my journey had to offer. 

Buen Camino

Coast of Muxía at sunset 

Jeremiah is a senior Criminology major originally from Charleston, SC who is now a native of Greenwood, SC. He spent a month hiking over 350 miles throughout Northwestern Spain on the Camino de Santiago. Upon graduating from Lander in May of 2018, he plans on pursuing a career in Law Enforcement, Non-Profit Management, or overseas missions.