It is Friday night, 9:15pm. I am in a dormitory for 40 people. Currently, only half the beds are taken, and the chances are now that the empty ones will remain empty tonight. Half the room is in semi darkness, the lights there are out. Those who are not already asleep are whispering softly or are using electronic devices to olay games or comunicate home. Yawns are common! In a little while the remaining lights will go out – the doors are locked at 10pm and silence is expected from then on.
And no-one will complain!
The average age in the room is probably in the region of 50. At 66, I’m possibly the oldest here, but that is by no means certain. The youngest is probably 25.
Outside in the town, we can hear a band. I’m undecided whether it is a disco or a local band practicing for a gig.
The contrast couldn’t be more pronounced. Here wehave young girls and even some (slightly) older folk who would normally be wanting to party and celebrate the end of another working week just like the band outside, but here they are, tucking up in bed eager to getsomesleep beforewakig early in themorning to geton the road again.
The camino does that to pilgrims. Like deciding what to take in the back pack, the day and night hours are reduced to the bare minimum of what is absolutely essential. We have heard stories of pilgrims who are sending some of their belongings to themselves at Santiago. The Spanish post office offers great rates, I believe, and will hold stuff at Santiago for a month or so as pilgrims make their way to the destination!
The camino has this way of reducing things to the bare essentials. I wonder if we can carry that learning on once we get home? I wonder how we can encourage others to do that? I wonder if we are prepared to take the time to consider just what are things wecan discard or send on ahead in our own lives?
Alan,
Villar de 
Mazarife, Spain.
roweallstars 