Muxía

Muxía

I was not conformed to finish el Camino at Fisterra. Something in my heart was telling me that I must go to Muxía.

Friday, I woke up around noon. Something in my head said: Go!

I really got prepared in 10 minutes, and headed to the bus station in Santiago. There was a bus to Fisterra at 1pm. A bus!!! Oh no! But in my conscience I had walked from Santiago to Fisterra already. It would take me three days. Therefore with clean conscience I took the bus to Fisterra. We arrived in one hour. As I told you, you never know what route the driver will take.

I started walking at 2pm from Fisterra to Muxía. By 5:00, I was in Lires, the middle point. I decided to stay there for the night. It was a beautiful trail. Eucalyptus trees, pines, and ocean were enchanted. There was one or two pelegrinos coming in opposite direction, I was the only one toward going there.

On the trail, before arriving to Lires, I met Jesus working in the corn fields. I like to talk to everyone in the fields. When we finished talking, he asked me where I was going to spend the night. I told him that I did not make reservations, when he said: stay at my house, we have an albergue, and restaurant in the village. I asked for the name, and he said so proud: Casa Jesús!

I look for his restaurant in the village. It was a new modern facility super clean. I decided to eat first before going up to the albergue. Jesus’ son in law run the restaurant. I was not very impressed in how he treated the pelegrinos. I asked him: are you from this village? He said: No.

I ordered from the menu. It was very diverse. I sat outside, but the sun was in its high; therefore I moved inside. My table had the best view of the kitchen. The chef, Vicente, was and artist in the kitchen. I enjoyed watching all his hands and body movements as he season, and cooked the food.

The food arrived at my table, but something was going on. I ordered a minestrone soup, and many basic ingredients were missing. Later, as a second plate, I order “Raxo”, but all the flavor was in the onions. I said to myself, for second time, what is going on?

The chef kept cooking in the kitchen preparing other dishes, and I was fascinated with his culinary skills. Vicente’s wife was his assistance. She was from Venezuela. At one point a great smell was coming from the kitchen, when suddenly small empanadas were served in small plates as tapas. The owner of the restaurant took two, and brought them to his friends at the bar. As I was ignored, I requested one from my table. I put it in my mouth, and a explosion of flavors came out of it. I said to myself: I need to talk to the chef. As the chef and his wife took a break, they came out of the kitchen. It was my moment to ask him what had happened with my dishes. The confession of the century came! I apologize, but my boss do not want that I use the spices and ingredients necessary to prepare the dishes. The explosion came later when he said: we are departing the next week. I told him how much I had enjoyed seen him cooking from my table, and as he was returning home, he should open his own restaurant. He thanked me for my comments. Today we are friends on this blog.

I went to the albergue and fall asleep. Jesus had a beautiful house, and the rooms were adorable. I had a room for myself with private bathroom.

Next morning, I went to Muxía early in the morning. It was going to be difficult from this point on. I had to hike 300 meters up. It was a very foggy morning. Visibility was almost 0.

Many other pelegrinos were coming out from other albergues. The fog was mysterious, but beautiful. It looked like a mystery movie. I passed a women selling bananas, and other fruits in the middle of nowhere. I asked myself: how she got here. There was not a car or house close by. It was the last easy point to walk. From there on I had to hike up on a difficult terrain, but I enjoyed it. This was my last hike of el Camino. I knew I was like 5km from Muxía and it was going to be the last climb. At the 3km, I reached the highest point, and from there it was my heaven. I had to run the last 2km going down. It was paradise for me. It really was going down, down, down, and down. I passed over 30 pelegrinos that were coming in opposite direction. It was not easy for them. I stopped running as I entered the Lourido Beach. Here I walked straight to the village. I could not see the village the fog was dense. Entering the village, my noise sense was challenge by many kitchens preparing lunch. I entered a small restaurant to eat cold grilled fish with bread. Delicious! It was around 11:00am. I asked the owner at what time was mass. She told me at noon, because Saturday was the feast of Saint Michael, and they will have a great procession. I went to the church, and it was closed. A man in the cementary told me that the mass would be at the Sanctuary of Our Lady of the Barca. It was at the 0km. I hit there, because I needed the last stamp to get the “Muxíana”. I went to the sanctuary’s sacristy to meet the pastor, Fr. Manolo. He is 89 years old, and he has been in the village 33 years.

I introduced myself to him, and with a big welcoming smile in his face, he said: God has sent you, you will preside and preach today! OMG, I have heard that before, when I was a young man in Puerto Rico. My old priest at my village will ask me to help him during his preachings, because he has trout problems. Fr. Manolo touched his throat as Fr. Alberto frequented. I have flash backs of memory. Here is how El Camino will end, just as it begun…

St. Michael’s readings of the day spoke about how God spoke from the clouds or fog. Nathaniel ate from the fig tree, and early that day, I was eating figs on the trail. I am always mesmerized in how God speak to us. There were so many people at church locals and Pelegrinos. The echo of the Church was powerful. I did not need a microphone. I let the spirit to guide me. When I finished many people was crying. I just told them that even when we have so much dust on our feet from our daily walk in life, God keeps calling us from the clouds to be his holy people. We can be at the fig tree or at the house or work, he always calls us to be holly.

The procession from the sanctuary was solemn with a local band of young men and women playing the “gaitas”. We processed to the port. We could heard explosions at the distance. When we arrived to the port the fireworks started, but we only heard them. The day remain foggy. We could not see the sky or the sea. And the festivities started…