Posts Tagged With: Hospitality

My last day of walking the Camino: The Long Story

Setting out on my last day walking the Camino from Mansilla de las Mulas.

Setting out on my last day walking the Camino from Mansilla de las Mulas.

I walked the Camino Frances in three trips. Camino 1.0 was from St. Jean-Pied-de-Port to Burgos, in June, 2013. Camino 2.0 was from Leon to Santiago, in October 2013. That left the section in the middle from Burgos to Leon for my Camino 3.0, in April, 2015.

That’s the short story of why I was walking into Leon on April 19th, 2015.

After 10 days of walking from Burgos,  I was in Mansillas de las Mulas, only 18 kilometers away from Leon. Here’s the long story of what that day was like.

The night before I walked into Leon I was seriously thinking of taking a taxi because one of my ankles was hurting and when I talked with my husband on the phone, it seemed like the logical thing to do. The walk into Leon was known to be tedious, and lots of pilgrims bussed through it. When I began my second Camino, in October 2013, from Leon, I took a taxi out past the suburbs, and I didn’t regret it.

But when I got up the next morning to head out from Mansilla de los Mulas towards Leon, I felt I needed to walk at least part of the way. I decided I’d see how I felt as the day unfolded.

I had mixed feelings about finishing my Camino 3.0, and finishing the whole Camino in general.

Sign just outside Mansilla de las Mulas

Sign just outside Mansilla de las Mulas

The April trip was empowering. I totally enjoyed the walking, the solitude, and the conversations along the way. Every day I felt physically challenged and spiritually fulfilled. The Camino was as magical as it had been before. Each of my three trips had its own flavor, its own season (summer, fall, and now spring) and each trip took me deeper into the spirituality of walking solo. Camino 3.0, across the Meseta, had been more contemplative than the other two trips, more like a retreat.

There was something very attractive about the sureness of following the yellow arrows on the Camino.  But now the adventure was about to end, and I found myself feeling of sad and wrestling with the feelings of “what’s next?”  I didn’t want Camino 3.0 to end.

When I was a kid I had the habit of saying, “Oh, it doesn’t matter.” My Mom used to respond with, “No, everything matters,” which would make me angry. I realize now that I used to say “It doesn’t matter,”  when I couldn’t express my feelings very well, and that my Mom said “No, everything matters,” to help me.  But she didn’t quite know how to get me to open up and share what was going on inside.  As an adult, and a Mom myself, I realized how frustrating it must have been for her to try and help me process my feelings.

I still struggle with that feeling of emotional ambiguity as an adult, and I was in one of those frustrating “Oh it doesn’t matter” kind of moods as I left Mansilla de las Mulas, and I spent a lot of the day debating whether I should call a taxi or not.

Even on the last day of walking, the Camino had something to teach me.

In the morning, I prayed for strong ankles, and to be open to what the Spirit wanted me to learn. I ate a late breakfast at my beautiful little hotel in Mansilla de las Mulas with the group of Irish women walking together I’d met the night before.

Javier saying

Javier saying “Buen Camino!”

Javier, the owner of the hotel, said “Buen Camino,” and waved me onto the Camino.   He was one of the many gems of hospitality I’d met along the Way.

The 18 kilometers to Leon were not scenic, or beautifully empty, like the Meseta. But there were memorable moments.

Hill fort where the ancient Asturians lost their battle against the Romans.

Hill fort where the ancient Asturians lost their last battle with the Romans.

There was the hill fort at kilometer 3 where the ancient Asturians lost their struggle with the Romans. Right in front of it was a gas station.  I love the juxtapositions of eras along the Camino!  There was a long, medieval bridge at kilometer 6 that was still used by cars. A modern pedestrian bridge had been built alongside it for the pilgrim traffic.

The 20 span Puente Ingente over rio Moro

The 20 span Puente Ingente over rio Moro

I ducked into a village church in Villamorros in the middle of a Mass, and was happy to see a young girl assisting the priest at the altar.  At about kilometer 9, my left ankle began to hurt again. It was midday, and it was hot for April. The Camino was shunted under highway overpasses, and ran next to junkyards.

The Camino meets billboards for the Macy's of Spain

The Camino meets billboards for the Macy’s of Spain

Junkyard Dog outside of Leon

Junkyard Dog outside of Leon

That was the low point.  For the first time since I’d left home, I wondered about how safe it was to be walking alone. Why was I doing this again?

The guidebook said there was an albergue and café just up ahead in Arcahueja. Maybe that’s where I would call my taxi.  When I got to the cafe, I found the five nice Irish women I’d met in Mansilla hanging out. They looked pretty out of sorts, too. We said, “hello” and complained a little about the heat.

Cafe/Bar La Torre in Arcahueja

Cafe/Bar La Torre in Arcahueja

I asked the bartender how far it was to Leon. He said it was only 11K, and “there’s a beautiful view of the city just up ahead.” (I’m sure he tells everyone that!) I asked if a bus stopped in the village or if they had a taxi. “No” he said. Hmmm.

I ordered a slice of tortilla, two deviled eggs, and a café con leche. What should I do? I felt bone tired and was so tempted to call a taxi. My food arrived, and I realized I was ravenous.

Once the protein in the eggs and the tortilla  kicked in, it became clear to me that I really needed to walk the entire way into Leon, and make Camino 3.0 a Cathedral to Cathedral affair.  As my Mom would have said, “it mattered.”

Once I finally got clarity, I felt the need for some encouragement to make it into Leon.

I had an idea. I turned on my phone and checked into the American Pilgrims on the Camino Facebook page. It was 4 a.m. in California, and 7:00 a.m. on the East Coast. Someone must be up and reading the page. I posted that I was 11 K out of Leon and was tempted to take a taxi, and needed some support. I posted it on this blog, too.

Immediately, waves of energy started rolling into that little café in Arcahueja through my iPhone! “You can do it! Don’t quit! Feel the burn!” Over a hundred people responded, cheered me on, and sent prayers via the APOC Facebook page. My brother-in-law in Washington, D.C. saw the post on the blog and gave me a big PUSH.

The Camino taught me—again—that sharing my feelings and asking for support is ok. Feeling vulnerable is ok. It’s usually in those moments when God reaches through our stoic armor and touches us.  My unspoken prayers during my morning’s walk were answered.

I said “Buen Camino” to the Irish crew and headed back out on the Camino, now excited to continue. The guy behind the bar had exaggerated just a little though; it was a long time before I saw the view of Leon.

The last hill before I could see the city of Leon

The last hill before I could see the city of Leon

I passed big box stores, and auto dealerships, and medieval churches with storks nesting on top of them.

The funny thing was, my ankle stopped hurting completely. It was amazing.  I picked up the pace.  There seemed to be very few other pilgrims walking that afternoon.

The Camino crossed the Autovia (freeway) on a dedicated pedestrian bridge, and the amount of concrete and apartment buildings reminded me of my long walk into Santiago in the rain, in October of 2013. But weather was good, and I was very thankful.

Out in the distance I could see the Cathedral in Leon, with the snowy mountains behind it. How I wished I could keep walking on to Astorga and beyond. It was a new experience to know what was up ahead on the Camino. That’s when I knew that I had almost finished the whole Camino Frances.

Cathedral at last, but still a long ways off.

The Cathedral in view at last, but still a long ways off.

Walking from the bar in Arcahueja to the Cathedral took about two hours of brisk walking. I felt great, aligned in my purpose. The feelings of sadness about finishing were still there, but I didn’t blow them off by calling a taxi. I walked and felt sadness and joy, and was determined to finish strong.

Once past the newer parts of Leon, passing apartment blocks and crossing roundabouts, The Camino bridged a small stream and led me through the ancient city walls.

It continued into a tangle of medieval streets and spit me out on the grand avenue in front of the building designed by Gaudi. Suddenly, I knew where I was. The Cathedral was just up ahead. And then I was standing in front of it, looking up at its fantastic exterior.

Approaching the Cathedral

Approaching the Cathedral

It was nearly 4:00 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon, and the doors were closed for Siesta.

When the adrenalin subsided, the sad feelings welled up again. No one was there to celebrate my arrival, and I had a wave of homesickness. But Mary was there, up on her pedestal outside, by the locked doors, holding baby Jesus in her arms, and she was smiling.

Mary holding Christ

Mary holding Christ

Thank you for being there, Mary.

Mary greeted me, and sent me off to my hotel to check in and relax. I was grateful for the lessons I’d learned that day. I wasn’t really alone. The Spirit was with me, and I felt blessed by the wave of energy and love from my fellow Pilgrims back in the States that had swept me on, to finish Camino 3.0, and the entire Camino.  Amen.

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Categories: April 2015, Camino de Santiago, Leon, Pilgrimage | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Mansilla de las Mulas

My 6 kilometer walk from Reliegos to Mansilla de las Mulas didn’t take very long, even with a limp. It was perfect walking weather:  cool with a breeze, and big, fluffy white clouds sailed in a blue, blue sky.

Almost to Mansilla de las Mulas

Almost to Mansilla de las Mulas

Out in the country I saw this fire burning unattended. It was such an unusual sight for this urban Californian, I had to take a photo.  Way in the background you can see a little fringe of snow on the mountains.

Fire burning in a field, en route to Mansilla de las Mulas

Fire burning in a field, en route to Mansilla de las Mulas

Mansilla still had its medieval walls, and it seemed like it had walled itself off from the 21st century.  The stores on the Plaza Mayor sold fabric and craft supplies, children’s clothing, and toys.  All of them had dusty windows and were closed for siesta. I’m amazed how Spain is largely unspoiled by chain stores or fast food restaurants. Not a Starbucks in sight outside of Madrid!

Tired PIlgrims statue in Mansilla de las Mulas

Tired PIlgrims statue in Mansilla de las Mulas

My friend Nancy had recommended a place to stay in Mansilla called Albergeria del Camino.  I’d sent my big pack there from Reliegos that morning. It turned out to be a cute little hotel with just four rooms.   When I walked in the entryway the owner said, “oh you’re the one who belongs to this pack! I didn’t have a reservation for you, but I have one room left!”  He showed it to me and it was so cozy!  He said, “this is the best bed on the Camino!” It was the Spanish version of a Tempurpedic!  I couldn’t resist.   After a soak in my own tub, and blow-drying my hair for the first time in several days, I went downstairs for a late lunch.  The Ensalada Mixta was a cut above the usual pilgrim menu.  I had definitely kicked it up a notch by staying at the Albergeria.

Fancy Ensalada Mixta

Fancy Ensalada Mixta

Javier, the owner, recommended I visit the Provincial Ethnographic Museum of Leon about five minutes across town after lunch.  Wow!  What a fantastic place!  I wish it had more presence on the web so I could post some links.  It was a Smithsonian quality museum about the history and culture of the people of the Province of Leon placed in a former Monastery.  It had three floors of exhibits of all eras of history going back to before the Romans.  Fashion, furniture, photographs, jewelry, traditional farm equipment, looms, spinning wheels, and other artifacts were all arranged by century and theme.

IMG_5839Visiting the museum was just the right thing to do that afternoon. I’d fallen in love with Spain and I wanted to understand it better.  So many times I’d wondered, “What did this place look like before it began to crumble?  What did the people wear 100 years ago?  What is the terrain like a little off the Camino? What is that mountain range? I wonder what happened here during the Civil War?”   That afternoon in the museum helped me integrate something of what I’d learned and observed along the Camino. And lots of the exhibits were in English.

I wandered back to the hotel taking my time.  It was a luxurious feeling to not be in a hurry. Perhaps that was one of the themes of Camino 3.0.  Taking my time.  I walked out of town a bit, investigated the Camino route for my exit tomorrow.  It crossed another rushing river, and as I looked back, there was a nice view of the walled city.

View of city walls of Mansilla de las Mulas

View of city walls of Mansilla de las Mulas

Back at the hotel, my room faced the church.  The stone glowed in the evening light. I rested on my “best bed on the Camino,” with ice on my ankle and watched the stone of the church change color as the sun went down. One of my stork friends was hanging out on the roof.  Seeing the storks in their nests all across the Meseta was one of the joys of my Springtime Camino.

View from room in Mansilla de las Mulas

View from room in Mansilla de las Mulas

Eating dinner in the dining room I noticed that by staying at the Albergeria, I’d shifted uptown into a more affluent crowd of pilgrims. Lots of people on the Camino ship their luggage every day, and stay only in hotels, or travel in organized groups, but for the most part, I had been hanging out with the backpackers. Among that crowd in the dining room I felt like I was transitioning back into my regular life, and also teetering on the cusp of being a tourist.  It felt very comfortable and it also made me a little sad.

A group of five Irish women sat at the next table. They were very jolly, and we talked over dessert.  They walked together for a week on the Camino every year. That’s more of a European approach—to do it in chunks. Right then I wished I was walking with a group of old friends, too.

I was contemplating whether to walk all the way to Leon in the morning.   It seemed like a prudent thing to get a taxi into town at some point with my sore foot. What did it matter really? It would give me more time in Leon.  I’d finished the missing link of my Camino.  I went to bed feeling conflicted about it. Tomorrow was my last day of walking.  Just 18 kilometers to go.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

Categories: April 2015, Favorite Albergues, Museums on the Camino | Tags: , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Sahugun to Burgo de Ranero

IMG_5754It was one of those off-kilter days.  I hadn’t set up a destination to send my daypack to the next morning.  Maybe the run-in with the angry hotel owner the day before had soured me on picking places out of the guidebook. So out of denial or laziness I ended up carrying everything in my big backpack.  I was strong after seven days of walking, right?

I texted Tami to see when she was leaving, and she texted back that she’d already left at 7:30. She hadn’t wanted to disturb me.  That was fine. I thought we would catch up with each other later in the day. There wasn’t a good place to have breakfast near the hotel, so I just started walking out of town.  There had to be something in the next village, called Calzada del Coto.

Well, Calzada del Coto was totally locked up.  After walking for an hour on an empty stomach and no caffeine I was a little punchy.  I was used to villages with all the doors and windows closed, but this morning it bothered me.  I can remember bad dreams as a kid where I went from door to door in a panic and no one answered.  That’s what this village reminded me of.  I spent at least 30 minutes circling through the major streets and back to the beginning of town and no cafe/bar!  Not a good use of walking time.

So I kept going, and going, and going. And I could feel the pressure of my heavy pack on my feet.

Finally, in Bercianos, I saw signs of cafe/bar life up ahead.  Some enterprising person had opened a cafe/bar right as the Camino entered town.  IMG_5762It was a sight for sore eyes! Coffee!  Brunch/Lunch!

I took off my pack and ordered cafe con leche, and a tuna empanada.  Yum!  I checked my phone. Tami’s text said that she had gotten in a taxi with two French pilgrims and she was now in Mansilla de las Mulas, two stages ahead, and was sorry we were out of synch.  I was sorry, too, but totally understood her need to keep moving to make it to Santiago.  I noticed that there were very few pilgrims  on the Camino that morning.  It’s the most popular part to bus through. I complimented the cafe owner on such a nice place, and he said that the Brierley guide was sending pilgrims on the alternate Roman Road route, bypassing his village, so he didn’t have as much business as he’d like.  He and his wife were so nice, and I hung out with them for awhile enjoying the sunshine.

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Past Bercianos, I was back on the classic senda path.  Someone had set up a chrome arch, which was one of my favorite sculptures on the Camino.  Very simple, but it reminded me of the various “gates” we’re supposed to pass through in our lifetimes:  birth, puberty, falling in love, aging, etc.

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There was a rest area next to an Ermita (locked!) and I took off my boots for awhile to give my feet a rest. Pink and green socks for a spring Camino! I was all by myself for awhile there by the Ermita and felt called to do Morning Prayer on my Iphone app.  An elderly man came by with a bucket and he said he was gathering herbs for his chickens!IMG_5756

I got into El Burgo Ranero and checked out Albergue La Laguna, and I must not have looked too impressed.  The albergue guy was Italian and said, “I you should go down to Piedras Blancas, you might like it better.”  It was a nicer place, and my feet were hurting, so I stayed. Turns out the same people own a group of albergues and hostals in the next few towns.

My room was directly over the bar and the place was packed with men drinking and being very loud.  I went downstairs before dinner and the Italian guy I’d met at the other albergue was hanging out there.  “Isabel! (I sometimes become Isabel because people in Spain couldn’t pronounce Beth) you must meet my friend.”  His friend was an older Spanish pilgrim whose Spanish was so fast, I got about every 20th word.  “Mas lento, por favor!” I said over and over, but he never slowed down and I found myself nodding my head as if I did understood.  It was old school conditioning to be the female who just keeps listening.  Then I thought to myself, “this is ridiculous,” and excused myself to go call my mother, which I did.

Dinner turned out to be excellent fish, and the wine of the house was better than usual.  I picked out the place to send my daypack  in the morning.

The guy at the desk whose job it was to call the pack shipping company said, “you know it’s only six kilometers to Reliegos!”  Yes, six kilometers was fine. After 17K  with my full pack I was ready for a shorter day of walking.

So the end of the off-kilter day found me in a warm hotel room with radiators to dry my clothes on hoping for a easier walk, and a cafe con leche and tostas before heading out in the morning.

Categories: April 2015, Santiago de Compostela | Tags: , , , , | 3 Comments

To Sahagun

When I left Albergue Jacque de Molay I had one of those first thing in the morning thrills of freedom. The day was wide open, and exciting. I love that feeling! Zing! My legs felt strong, and everything I had was on my back. (Well almost everything. My daypack  in the vestibule waiting for Jacotrans.) I wonder why I don’t feel it more often. It must be all the endorfins. 

The Camino followed the Autovia for most of the day. I enjoyed the huge directional sign that pretty much described my Camino 3.0: Burgos to Leon!

We also passed out of Palencia and into Leon. The way marker looked like it predates the Autovia.

I love the layers of ancient and modern along the Way.

A little farher on, I ran into Tami again. She had ended up at the other Albergue in town for the night. (There are less than 100 people in the village. The Albergues are the only businesses.)

It was good to see her, and we walked all the way to Sahagun together. We’d only met a few days ago, but it felt like I’d known her a long time. She and I were comfortable saying hello and good-bye, and wordlessly knew when to give each other space. We both wanted to experience the Camino solo, but enjoyed each others’ company. She had walked the whole Camino multiple times. The rigor and beauty of the Camino challenged her and gave her peace, as it did for me.

Her more evangelical vocabulary of faith was different than mine, and yet we talked about God and I enjoyed her perspective. She talked about “knowing Christ,” and it made me think, “do I know Christ? I strive to follow him, and worship him, but do I know him?” Thought-provoking.

The last few kilometers to Sahagun were tedious. The Camino wound through a lot of indescript and abandoned houses with “se vende” signs. Just as I was going into “grind it out” mode we came upon a spot that had a strong spiritual energy.

It was a like a place out of time: a little Roman bridge that crossed a fast-running river. The weeping willows were leafing out and there was an ancient (locked) chapel on the other side. We stopped and took pictures.

There’s that saying that pets cross over “the rainbow bridge” when they die. I wonder if I’ll cross over one of the many beautiful bridges on the Camino when it’s my turn.

Categories: April 2015, Santiago de Compostela | Tags: , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Fromista to Villacazar de Sirga

Dawn finally came at the Albergue and I packed up. The poor woman who had snored so badly looked terrible. I felt bad having been upset with her during the night. It sounded like she was going home. I felt for her, knowing what it is like to have to cut short your Camino.

Nancy from New Brunswick and I walked down to the plaza by San Martin where we found the best cafe/bar. It turns out that she is a French teacher and is Acadian. She did a year’s exchange as a teacher in Louisiana! She lived in Brobridge and taught in Cecilia. Of course she knew Alexandria! She was going to taxi from Fromista to Villacazar de Sirga to meet her husband and friends. I took off and thought I might stop there, too, or go onto Carrion.

The way out of Frimista took me over the Autovia, and then next to the two lane highway on what’s called the senda, a specially constructed gravelly pathway.

It was warming up fast. There was a beautiful Ermita off the road all by itself that caught my eye. Of course, it was locked. But there was a hole in the door so I could see inside. Once there was a village there. So many layers of history. I laid my pack on a long, moss-covered stone. Was it a tomb? I enjoyed the solitude for a few minutes while I shed some layers.   I took the alternative route that was supposed to be more scenic, but it was more desolate than inspiring. Maybe I was just sleep-deprived. I felt slow, and heavy, and there was nowhere to stop after about 10k. But a tiny village called Villovieco was just ahead and I walked into it looking for a cafe. No luck. It was noon, and hot. But…The door to the church was open! What a rarity! I walked in and found several artists restoring the figures on the retalbo of the altar! (I wish I’d taken more photos.)

 I asked if there was a cafe in town and they said no. A vivacious young woman came in with some snacks for the artists and she offered me some. We talked a little more, and I must have looked quite tired and hungry because she said in rapid-fire Spanish, “I’m taking you home for lunch!” She took me by the arm and we walked about a block to a small square where she opened the door to a large home and took me into the kitchen, pulled out the table and sat me down with two of the most adorable little girls, who were painting Easter Eggs. Of course, their eyes got very big when they saw this complete stranger in hiking gear plop down next to them!

We chatted in very broken English and Spanish for about an hour.  She has a sister who lives in Atlanta. I pinched myself to make myself realize it was real. It was so wonderful.

Macha, the young Mom, was visiting her parents with three children. Her husband and son came in, and her mother was also there. She was sweeping rubbish into a trap door, through which I could see a fire?! I asked about it and Macha said it was a radiant heating system invented by “los romeros!”

The house was over 300 years old, she said, and the family crest was carved into the stone on the front of the house.

 

I wish I could remember their last name.  I asked if we could take some photos and here’s what happened:

 

She gave me a quick tour of the downstairs, pointing out the taxidermies of a fox on the landing and a wild boar with its hooves also mounted, that her grandfather had shot. It was a glimpse into another way of life, and at the same time, the large staircase reminded me of home.

Macha, Julia and Isabel walked me back to the Camino and Macha kissed me on both cheeks as we said good-bye, as Manuel, my seat mate on the flight to Madrid had done when we reached the baggage claim.

After my run-in with Mr. Albergue, my time with them was such a gift and a blessing!

I walked onto the next village and filled up my water bottles (the visit had been so exciting, I’d forgotten to ask) and met Tammy, a fellow Pilgrim from Texas. We walked and talked for 10k and decided to stop in Villacazar.

When we walked into town, there was Nancy and her group, and we checked into the same Albergue! They were so nice. We toured the large church together and ate dinner together at the Albergue. And I had a good eight hours’ sleep.

  

Categories: April 2015, Santiago de Compostela | Tags: , , , , | 8 Comments

Hospitality

By now, I’ve stayed at 11 different places on the Camino. Some places practice “transactional” hospitality. That is what we’re used to at home: you pay a fee and receive services, and its very business-like. I’ve shared a 30E hotel or private auberge room with my pilgrim friends, and its very predictable, and safe, with privacy

Then there are the “Pilgrim Pleasure Domes,” like Hotel Jackue in Puente la Reina. They built an Auberge in the basement of a hotel. It had dorm rooms and private rooms, and nice bathrooms, a communal kitchen, laundry machines, and all the amenities of the hotel: the bar, beer garden, masseuse, and a 13E Pilgrim dinner with good wine. Our group had a proper dinner party that night, and stayed up talking in the easy chairs.

I’ve also stayed at family run auberges, where the proprietor lives in the building and is front desk clerk, laundry person, and travel guide. The place in Los Arcos was one of those, and the place I’m staying tonight in Belorado. They are very friendly, carry your backpack upstairs for you, and have a genuine interest in the Camino. The guests are pilgrims, and there’s communal space arranged do people will talk. They’re often in funky, renovated spaces, and very charming.
Orisson was a fancy version. They could charge more because they were the only Auberge on the mountain. They served a communal meal, and asked us to introduce ourselves, which helped us get to know each other. That’s where I met so many pilgrim friends.

Then there are the true Auberges, run by the municipal government or an International Pilgrim Organization. They have a special brand of hospitality. The ones run by Pilgrim organizations have volunteers who come from all over the world to work for two weeks at a time as hospitaleros. They meet you at the front door with a warm welcome, and know what it’s like to be a pilgrim. My first encounter with one like this was at Roncevalles, after the epic walk over the mountains. I had a tough night sleeping with a snorer in the room and the hospitalero helped me move my mattress into the Common Room, where I could sleep. He also gave me the wise advice, “snoring is part of the Camino.”

I’ve been reflecting on all these kinds of hospitality along the Way, and how we can cultivate the warm hospitality of the hospitaleros a and the family run auberges at church. We are called to extend more than “transactional” hospitality, we’re called to be transformative agents of hospitality in Christ’s image. The Camino is teaching me so much, day by day.

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Categories: Camino, June 2013 | Tags: , , , , | 6 Comments

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