Ending in Santiago

Our last day on the Camino was today. It was supposed to be a quick 10km jaunt to Santiago. Laura woke up very ill with severe nausea. Despite my offers to her for a taxi ride, she was determined and we skipped breakfast and were on the road amid darkness by 6:30, except that we were on the wrong road. A couple of extra uphill kilometers was definitely not in her agenda and she was not impressed by my directional instability in the dark.

It all started innocently enough with some mild burp like noises, which led to gagging coughs, escalating to dry heaves and ending in a crescendo of full on, uncontrolled projectile vomit. This went on and on for much of our entire walk. This poor woman was going to leave it all out there, let it all hang , give it a 110 percent. Luckily we hit Santiago and she started to feel better. A cup of cafe con leche and she was almost good as new. I will never again underestimate the value of good coffee or breakfast being the most important meal of the day. This walk, which normally would have taken us 2 hours, took us 4 hours to do.

We immediately headed to the pilgrim's office, showed them our pilgrim's passport filled with dates and proofs of our journey, answered a few suspicious questions about our journey and promptly received our compostela (certificates of completion) complete with our authentic Latin names. My real authentic Latin name is Wigbert Sy and it took him 15 minutes to figure it out. I could have come up with Wigbertum Sycomea in ten seconds.

We arrived an hour early for noon mass, plenty of time to get reunited with old friends and turn a serene cathedral into a chaotic noisy international market place complete with screaming kids, crying babies and camel auction. Most were there for a full on Latin mass complete with unlimited confessions and multiple blessings. We, on the other hand, were really there to watch them swing this huge
Incense burner suspended by an 80 foot rope from atop the cathedral meant to deodorize smelly pilgrims. Picture six overgrown priest simultaneously pulling on one rope back and forth pretending that they are keeping the smelly congregation from smashing the piñata. Maybe the collection was too small, or the perigrinos as a whole did not suffer enough (I know I did), but they did not swing the piñata and I was totally disappointed. Over 700 km and no piñata, such is life. Have to take the good with the bad, I wouldn't look so good if some of you weren't so ugly.

Ps. Laura is feeling normal again and I still have a mother-in-law. She miraculously materialized in church right before mass. Miracles do happen when you least expect it.