What the tourists felt. What they saw.
What the busy lawyers and financiers felt. What they saw.
How strange it was that they were brought together by a few street names and high-rise buildings.
As I was walking later in the rain, down Ocean Parkway, on one of Brooklyn's main traffic arteries, I thought about my upcoming Camino walk. I had been walking for a few hours already, since I left Downtown Manhattan, and surely my reflection was partially the product of a delirium induced by hurting limbs. But as I was alone on that four-lane boulevard, amid honking cars and screaming children, I thought about the path. The way. The Camino itself. How I will walk onto a path that countless others had walked before me and that countless others will walk after me. And because we are all strangers coming together on that one path for the same objective --reach Santiago de Compostela-- although for different reasons, we are all connected.
That path is a lifeline linking all peregrinos, whatever their age, their nationality, their religion or even their motivation to inflict this painful journey onto themselves. A lifeline which connects us even beyond Spanish borders.
The streets of New York City are harsh. Harsh for the feet (though I am quite happy with my hiking shoes, I must say), harsh for the mind (try relaxing when regular honking wakes you from philosophical wanderings). I also find New York City harsh for humans. About 8 to 10 millions of us live in close proximity of one another. I am not sure how many people crossed my path yesterday, but certainly a few hundred. Not one spoke to me. In New York City, I guess we all come together to see "New York City". But very few of us from the human tribe actually connect with one another in this beehive of a city. And this, connecting, is partially the reason why I will be walking come July 2013. Not only to (re)connect with the human tribe, but also to reconnect with nature, and ultimately, myself.
Yesterday's walk was a small sample of what is to come, though it was not in the best conditions. For example, I realized that one of the most annoying and tiring things you can do when your legs are hurting the way they can be after an already 3-hour long walk is stopping. As long as your legs are carrying you, you are rolling. And the most difficult thing is stopping. Anyone cares to venture a guess how many streets you have to cross if you're walking down Ocean Parkway from Prospect Expressway? If I tell you the cross streets start with Avenue C and go all the way to the end of the alphabet, this gives you an idea... (in fact, I crossed 40 streets on Ocean Parkaway alone) Many times I got lucky with the little green guy telling me it was ok not to stop (though I always looked both ways nonetheless--with those crazy New York drivers, you can never be too careful). But as I was getting closer to Avenue Z, the pain of stopping and starting again grew exponentially more difficult.
Upon my arrival in Coney Island/Brighton Beach, I decided to add a few extra steps and finish my adventure on the Riegelmann Boardwalk all the way back home. There, I was greeted by a beautiful sunset light and a peaceful ocean. The light shone beautifully onto the North shore of Breezy Point beach clearly visible in the quiet evening light.
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| Brighton Beach/Coney Island Beach (Brooklyn) looking onto Breezy Point (Queens) |
I had made it. My first trial at walking some 20 straight kilometers.
Later at home, I did not make it past 9pm, exhausted that I was from my day. As I lay in bed for a few minutes before sweetly falling into a healing slumber, I fast forwarded one last time to my first night in an albergue in late June. Wondering what I will feel then. Surely hurting, sore and yes, exhausted.
But also strangely at peace.
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| Riegelmann Boardwalk |
PS. 3:30am. Awake some 6 hours later. If this is my natural rythm, I should be able to start my daily walk before 5am, which is ideal if you want to escape the sorching heat of Spain in July.
Let's wait and see...
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