A Pilgrim's Heavenly Harmony (Conclusion)

CEBU, Philippines - Fr. Manuel Leandro Domingo, a Salesian priest of Don Bosco, undertook his second Camino de Santiago de Compostela (The Road to St. James of Compostela) and our contributing writer Edu Jarque interviewed him on this spiritual experience of a lifetime. The Camino is one of the oldest pilgrimages in the West and one that is aspired for by Christians of all persuasions. We continue the interview: 

On what happens on a typical day in the life of a pilgrim…

FR. MANNY: Normally I wake up at around six in the morning, take my breakfast in the albergues and then before seven, I'll be on my way.

My pacing would vary with my mood and physical stamina-I can get as gung ho as 20 to 25 kilometers a day and as leisurely as 10 to 15. I wasn't very rigid or strict with the distance. Once in a while, you would stumble upon an interesting site that would be worth stopping for.

As night closed in, I would get into an albergue, rest and massage my feet, wash my clothes, and enjoy light conversations with fellow pilgrims over delectable home-cooked dinner. Then, I would recall the whole day's work, and plan for the next. Oh, yes, there would usually be an 8 PM Mass for the pilgrims, while those of other faiths were blessed by the priest for a safe journey ahead.

And at this time came some realizations, Why am I burdening myself with so much? I would ask myself after realizing I could live for a month or even two with just a few clothes and meager possessions in my bag. It was almost a metaphor of life: we burden ourselves with too many unnecessary things. A liberating experience, after the Camino I reminded myself once again: "I don't need all this." You simplify your life, and you find that so many things really are just superfluous.

On the possible choice of accommodations…

FR. MANNY: One has the entire gamut for options-from hotels and hostels, paradores – former cloisters now turned into a hotel-and still-functioning convents and monasteries. The albergues provide a bit more than just spartan accommodations, but rest assured that all your basic needs would be met. Interestingly, some have cooking provisions, or better yet, offer home-cooked meals. There's an abundance of dining and laundry facilities. Generally speaking, the French hostelries require reservations, while the Spanish hosts rely on walk-ins, first-come first-serve.

On the fear of perhaps getting lost…

FR. MANNY: I didn't carry a map, actually. But the route along the way have marks that give directions. They could be anything on anything. But the most popular was the scallop shell-a symbol of St. James. Others in my journey were the spray-painted yellow arrows and the kilometer signs posted on all possible places one can think of-rocks, buildings, trees, poles and concrete pillars. Many of them were red and white strokes, as if made with a paintbrush.

When you wind up in the wrong direction, you would usually see an "X" placed a few feet from the right path which means you're not supposed to be there. Many a time, I was so into the vibe of walking, enjoying the path along the forest, or caught myself in deep reflection that I overlooked my surroundings. That was the reason I sometimes got lost. I'd wake up from my reverie because suddenly there would be dogs barking. That would be the impetus for me to start paying attention to where I was, to look again for the signs that would point me back to the right direction.

On traveling alone or with companions…

FR. MANNY: In a sense, whether you have a companion or not wouldn't really matter.

There are advantages and disadvantages of being on your own. If you are alone, you could easily decide if you want to pass by this town or city, skip its outskirts or simply spend more time in the area without having to discuss, argue, or convince anyone. You're the captain of your ship.

Yet, come to think of it, it is also good, perhaps even ideal, to have a companion. You feel more comfortable. One of the things I really appreciated during the Camino was finding people who were looking out for each other. You wouldn't see the same friends you make everyday as some would lag behind while others would proceed at a faster pace. But I believe that since we share the same dream-the same aspiration in reaching Compostela-everyone was just concerned about everyone else. Like when somebody stops, the soon-to-be-overtaking walker will always take the time to ask, "Are you okay? Do you need help?" There is really this strong sense of family.

Despite language barriers and generation gaps, we managed to communicate through gestures, signs, and a lot of smiles. And what's really interesting is that you share with these people the reason why you're there, and believe me, everyone would have his or her own reason. A 19-year old wanted a kind of breathing time and space between high school and college, so he could decide which course to take. One was trying to come to terms with her anger and was hoping that doing the Camino would allow her to reflect on the choices she had made. And I remember there was one mother who was still trying to reconcile with the suicide of her son.

On the person who has made a unforgettable impact…

FR. MANNY: A girl from Mexico did. She walked for her boyfriend who had died in a car accident. They were supposed to get married, but the tragedy cancelled their plans forever. And she took the journey because her boyfriend had previously done the Camino.

We prayed together. Then afterwards, she brought out a picture of her boyfriend. "Father, what must I do with this?" she asked me, further saying that it was like a burden to her.

I suggested to her, "Let's leave his picture in the crypt," thinking that it was the closure she needed for that chapter of her life.

That was also the time when I found myself crying as I shared with her that the main reason for my first pilgrimage was the death of my mother. As we exchanged stories, I learned that her boyfriend was named Santiago-and here we were, on our way to Santiago de Compostela. It was truly unforgettable, the two of us having met in such a time in our lives when we were haunted with loss, our paths crossing at that very moment, finally having the courage to continue to live.

On the fear of ever feeling disconnected…

FR. MANNY: Ay, let me tell you. I thought I was fine until my mobile phone fell into a pool of water. It automatically refused to be charged and finally conked out on me. I could not send text messages and make some calls and receive texts and calls- I was instantly completely out of touch. I was so depressed. It was just a month into the pilgrimage-barely halfway-and to make it even worse it was two days before my birthday.

That very night I could not sleep. Several concerns came into the picture, among them was my father. Though he wasn't sick, he was already 77 years old, and-not to sound morbid-anything could happen.

Eventually I realized, "What am I so worried about?" There was a time when I had lived without a phone, a newspaper, a radio, a television, an e-mail or the Internet. So many realizations about modern living came after that: I could live without all these things. I may have been out of touch, but I felt no fear. In fact, I was happy.

On how his birthday was celebrated…

FR. MANNY: I was in Miramont Sensacq in France. The night before my birthday, we had dinner at this particular albergue. It needs to be said that in this particular venue, where the meals were prepared and served just for us, we only paid the amount we wanted to give. Purely voluntary. No quota. No price range. However, you must keep in mind that your monetary contribution will feed tomorrow's pilgrims. Depending on how much you give, the pilgrims that come after you may either have a feast or experience a famine.

The sense of community was gratifying; it was an excellent way to celebrate my birthday.

To add to that, a fellow priest had invited me for a morning feast without him knowing it was my birthday. Consider it serendipity. For almost three hours we talked about nothing but food, from the Spanish dishes to the French cuisine which are undoubtedly among the world's best. And to even put it on a higher level, what we had all throughout the Camino were well-tested recipes of home-cooked secrets passed on through generations for pilgrims to enjoy.

On what the Camino meant first as a pilgrim and as a priest…

FR. MANNY: I completed the pilgrimages to Compostela with a physically remarkable sense of relief from the rigors of walking. Recalling the journeys, I enjoyed the company of new-found friends who shared and listened to amazing stories of life, whether in jubilee or grief, over wonderful food in the albergues. There were so many sights to see and landscapes that were beautiful beyond imagination.

Beyond these joys, the Camino afforded me space and long periods of time where and when I could reflect about my life. As priests, we often spend all of our time with people that we serve, hardly having schedules for ourselves. Oftentimes we need the space for ourselves to be alone with God-to pray, to reflect on my vocation and to review my life as a priest.

I really valued the silence and the solitude, the simplicity and the nomadic brotherhood. I think the pace of walking afforded me the kind that is very conducive for prayer and reflection, when, for days and weeks on end, you can be with no one else but the Redeemer.