My Walking Stick
For more than a thousand years people have walked across Europe to Santiago Compostella in the northeastern corner of Spain, making it one of the top three pilgrimage destinations of Christianity. Pilgrims from antiquity carried a walking stick, making it a defining characteristic of a pilgrim. Perhaps a spin-off of a shepherds staff.
My first visit to this holy place was more as a tourist than a pilgrim. Seeing the many people wandering around the city centre with a walking stick prompted me to purchase one as a souvenir. It wasn’t until several years later that I noticed the top of my walking stick resembled -the head of a serpent. Years later my meditations turned to the similarity of the serpents experience in the Sinai Desert during the Exodus and modern psychology...
This stick of wood would accompany me along more than 4,000 kilometers of walking the Camino Santiago. The most recent pilgrimage started in Vezelay France, along the historic Voie de Vezelay, south through France, up and over the Pyrenees and ending in Los Arcos Spain. This story tells how this particular walking stick came into my possession, a tale full of mystery and intrigue, twists and turns.
In June 1999 my sister Judy and I were sitting in a sports bar in Guelph. While sipping on my beer I was lamenting about how boring my life was at the time. I suppose I stirred my sisters compassion because soon after she suggested I go with her to London England for the weekend. Judy was working an Air Canada flight to London on weekends at that time and she could arrange my flight for a token of the normal cost.
Despite the negligible expense, traveling all the way to London for a coffee wasn’t very appealing. A beer or two later Judy improved her offer, suggesting I go over to London with her one weekend ... stay in London for the week ... and come back with her the following weekend. Maybe it was the additional beer, suddenly I found her offer quite tempting.
The next day I called my friend Donna who lives a bit north of London. Donna had stayed on the same Kibutz in Israel a year or so earlier. A letter from Donna after she had returned home prompted my first visit to Mount Sinai in Egypt. A very exciting experience, especially sleeping in the same cave Moses used to hide his face from God. Donna seemed enthusiastic about getting together and asked me to call her when we arrived in London. Now my excitement about the trip is in high gear.
Nothing about this trip would turn out as planned. The journey was full of mystery and suspense; twists and turns. The walking stick purchased in Santiago Compostella Spain would eventually help me unravel the meaning of the Israelites experience with the serpents during their exodus in the Sinai desert. How did I end up in Spain? Read on.
We arrived in London and as it turned out my sister Joyce (Judy’'s identical twin sister) would also be in London that weekend (working another Air Canada flight).
That evening at a local bar the three of us drank a few beers together and shared some pleasant conversation. The next day I went looking for Donna’s telephone number ... oops! ... no telephone number in my backpack. Not being able to remember Donna’s family name , there was no way of finding her telephone number or address. Feeling guilty and sad my attention turned to figuring out what to do for a week.
While in Israel, Donna had told me about these last minute dirt cheap vacation holidays from London. I spent the next 24 hours reading papers, listening to these specials on the television and making telephone enquiries about the ones that appeared interesting.
The next day, feeling exasperated, with no where to go and my sisters heading back to Canada being all alone in this very expensive mega city. France suddenly appeared on my radar screen, perhaps triggered by the prospect of visiting my friend Monique in France. We had met several years earlier under difficult circumstances. I unexpectedly arrived at her family home near Lille France the day after her brother Jean Francois had committed suicide.
Finding my way to the train station and buying a train ticket to Portsmouth was uneventful enough. The train was scheduled to depart in about 30 minutes or so. Thinking to myself ... this must be an example of destiny ... the timing is so perfect, what could happen in half an hour? As it turned out, a lot!!
Wandering around the train station waiting for the departure time my eyes caught the word Paris on a small piece of paper on a Kiosk bulletin board. The notice advertised return fare to Paris for 44 pounds. Being on a tight budget and concerned about paying 18 pounds just to get to Portsmouth, I decided to check out this special offer.
The lady at the Kiosk was quite pleasant and confirmed the price and the fact that the bus would leave later on that afternoon. Now what about the train ticket in my pocket. Without a refund I would be forced to engage in another round of cost benefit analysis.
The gentleman at the train ticket wicket, the same one who had just sold me the ticket a few minutes earlier, gave me a scornful look as he heard my gentle plea for a refund. Albeit reluctantly; he refunded my 18 pounds.
Back to the lady at the kiosk, the smile on her face clearly indicated she recognized me. She started filling out some paperwork and made a telephone call. While she was talking on the telephone her expression changed, suggesting there was some sort of problem. After hanging up the telephone she informed me that the bus was full, no available seats. Oh poop! ... What now! Feeling too embarrassed to face the gentleman at the train station, there didn’t seem to be any other alternatives in front of me. So much for destiny!
Now it seems the expression on my face aroused some empathy from the kiosk lady. She informed me that she was an agent and suggested a seat on the bus to Paris may still be available at the bus station. Apparently some seats are reserved for walk on passengers.
Remembering that finding my car in a parking lot is often quite a challenge, how on earth would I find a bus station in this mega city!! The kiosk lady was very encouraging ... just walk straight this way and then that way etc ... Yikes!!
Off to search for the bus station. I found it! What an achievement, surely my reward will be a seat on the bus to Paris!!
After entering the building my mind quickly sized up the situation. There was a very long line of people and an information booth with nobody in line. The information desk seemed the better alternative, waiting in that long line may result in missing the bus.
After explaining my situation to the gentleman at the information desk he handed me a book and instructed me to go and stand in line. Oh poop again! So much for short cuts, by now several more people had joined the ticket line. Despite feeling disappointed with my waste of time, this small book would trigger a significant twist in my journey to Paris.
Standing in line, wondering why this book is my hand, curiosity prompts me to open the book and scan the pages. The book contained numbers, numbers and more numbers. While neatly arranged in tabular form, my brain did not have the capacity to try and understand them. I closed the book.
A few minutes later, still in line ... bored to tears ... seems the book opened itself to the last page. Suddenly something inside me lights up and excitement returns. The title of the last pages was Ferry Schedule ... sitting on a ferry was much more appealing than sitting on a bus. The list included a ferry to Spain for 60-70 pounds. Wow! … even within my budget. Enthusiasm building as I recalled this place in Spain my friend Michelle had told me about several months before ... something about an ancient pilgrimage and Santiago Spain.
When my turn at the wicket finally arrived I excitedly asked about the ferries to Spain. The man asked when and I replied today. You can imagine ... being around 4:00 PM here is this vagabond asking about a ferry leaving for Spain today! You can imagine the look he gave me ... I still remember it. The look clearly said …Are you nuts!!
Nonetheless, I repeated my request and he started looking through his books. After several minutes and the ticket agent whining about how disorganized his books were he found a fare to San Sebastian Spain leaving at 5:30PM. Wow! ... now the only thing left is the question of whether San Sebastian is east of Santiago. I had this fantasy about walking into Santiago. I enquired of the ticket agent and he had no idea about the location of San Sebastian within Spain.
So here I am standing at this wicket with a decision to make. Should I buy this ticket to San Sebastian Spain? I know nothing of the geography of Spain. With a particular destination in mind ... east of this place called Santiago ... and I have no idea where in Spain is this place called Santiago or San Sebastian!!
Being a free spirit, following the wind despite its direction or destination, I bought the ticket. Yikes! What am I doing here? Where am I going? Why am I going to wherever I am going? Unknowingly, this seemingly innocuous decision to buy this particular ticket would chart the next 5 years of my life.
Instructions included being at bus station to board a certain bus at 5:50PM. At the time, these instructions seemed a bit unusual. With a ferry ticket in hand I am going to a bus station? Than it occurred to me ... the bus would likely take us to the dock where the ferry was waiting to take us to Spain. OK ... my mind settled down.
Found the bus and jumped on board, sleeping most of the way to the dock Woke up as we were pulling into Dover, remembered seeing the cliffs of Dover and somehow my memory recalled these cliffs of Dover ... maybe from a poem in school or something ... who knows eh!. Sitting up in my seat an alarm bell went off inside me again ... yikes ... what now?
While being unable to navigate a parking lot, my mind was trying to figure out why we were heading west(London to Dover). We are supposed to be going to Spain which certainly must be south and maybe even East of London. This thought bothered me for a few minutes, but my mind was simply too tired or too weak to give it any further serious consideration.
The bus pulled into a large parking lot and the ship was there waiting for us in the harbor. Thinking to myself ... wow! ... this is real ... there is the ship that will take me to Spain.
Figuring we would be asked to leave the bus and walk onto the ship, puzzled again when the bus drove onto the ship ... now this is weird. Oh well ... again too tired to worry about it.
Walking up onto one of the decks where there were several seating areas with seating big enough to lie down. Since the area was not too crowded, felt this trip would be a treat after all. I could sleep most of the way to Spain ... and I love to sleep!
Nope ... something was still bothering me, something wasn’t right. Finally decided to ask one of the porters where this ferry was headed; hopefully confirm the destination was San Sebastian Spain. The porter gave me one of those priceless looks ... Are you nuts!!
He smiled and gently explained that the ferry was headed for Calais and than return to Dover. Yikes!! Double yikes!! What did my ticket indicate? Where is my ticket? Pulling it out of my pocket, there, to my surprise, was a picture of a bus on the cover. Ding! ... Ding! ... Ding! Bells went off in my head and I sobered up in a hurry. It was now obvious that I had purchased a bus ticket from London to San Sebastian !!!
Who in their right mind would want to spend a week riding the bus to Spain and back to London ... there would be no time for anything else! Seems I was under some kind of hex in London.
Oh well ... I’m on the ship and the water is both too cold and too deep to swim back. Now I am really starting to wonder what this trip is all about. How did I get into that dazed state of mind? Stay in it for so long ... to this day ... I still don’t know.
The bus trip to San Sebastian went by so quickly, hardly even remember any of the trip. I remember the stop in San Sebastian. Thinking it was a piddle break stop, I was happy to get off and smoke a cigarette. When I tried to confirm with the bus driver that I had enough time to have a cigarette ... he tried to explain to me in Spanish, somehow the language of the day had changed somewhere along the way, and of course I don’t know a single word in Spanish. The driver kicked me off the bus, I had arrived in San Sebastian
A few days later I arrive in this place called Santiago ... didn’t ‘walk’ in ... took the train :-)
As I was wandering around the city I saw all these people with walking sticks(I learned later that the walking stick was a defining characteristic of a pilgrim. ... some looked new(all varnished and polished) ... no mileage ... some were simple tree trunks(small trees :-))
These walking sticks appealed to me ... I decided to buy one at one of the tourist stores ... I must have looked pretty funny ... walking around town with my backpack and this shiny new walking stick
Seems within a few hours serious anxiety set in ... I found myself very restless and frustrated with this very strong feeling that I had to get out of town ... get back to London ... weird given the round about journey into town. I spent the next day trying to find a way out of town ... no trains ... no buses ... and the plane was much too expensive. I had no choice but to wait for the next train ... leaving Saturday morning at 9:00 AM. This train should get me to Paris with barely enough time to get back to London and meet up with my sister Judy.
As I was approaching the train station Saturday morning I remember staring at this clock tower that was in the train station parking lot. I stared because the clock read 9:30 and I knew my train would be leaving at 9:00. I had this uneasy feeling in my stomach and as I approached the train station another side of the same clock tower became visible ... the clock read the same time ...9:30 ... I thought to myself ... no way ... it can not be!!
Yup ... I had missed my train ... I didn’t sleep much the night before ... serious pain in my knee which disappeared by early morning
OK ... now what? ... no more trains or buses today ... my sister will be waiting for me in London ... oh shit!!
Reluctantly I decided to take to the air ... bought an expensive airplane ticket ... so much for my budget!
While wandering around the airport I did some shopping ... quite unusual for me ... I rarely buy any gifts ... yet today I was in the mood to buy some trinkets for my sister and my kids.
I got on the plane and was sitting comfortably ... relishing the thought that I would be in London in a couple of hours and I didn’t have to sit on some pokey train for 2 days!
I heard some noise and when I looked up ... here was the clerk from the store where I had just purchased my trinkets waiving this stick in the air and walking down the aisle. I quickly realized she was waiving my stick ... I got up ... retrieved my walking stick and thanked this wonderful lady copiously. This walking stick was all I had to remind of the wonderful ordeal I had just been through.
I met up with my sister Judy at her hotel ... She got me on the bus that takes the Air Canada employees to the airport. She had to leave me on arrival at the airport ... her only instructions were ... leave yourself enough time to find the gate ... we had arrived several hours before the flight was scheduled to leave.
A few hours later ... I am wandering around this mega airport ‘Heathrow’ and I decide it is time to find out which gate the Air Canada flight would be boarding ... I find the appropriate monitor and as my eyes fix on the information I was looking for ... the bells go off inside me yet again ... oh no!! ... the boarding light is flashing for the Air Canada flight to Toronto
You can imagine ... this is the Heathrow airport ... I get lost in a parking lot ... in yet another dopey daze I have lost track of time ... now somehow I have to find this gate
I start running ... and running ... and running ... sweating like a pig ... turning this way and that way ... trying to follow the idiot proof directions to this gate
I arrive at the gate ... a colleague of my sister is standing there all alone ... turns out they have been holding the plane for me ... whew!!
All of a sudden my excitement quickly waned ... that sick feeling in my stomach came back for another visit ... what now!
I realized that I had left my walking stick on the belt at one of the security check points ... oh poop again!
I explained the sad look on my face to my sisters colleague ... he said don’t worry ... go back and get it ... I said to him ... no ... you have already delayed the flight long enough for me ... it is only a stick.
This kind man would not take no for an answer and he insisted I go back and get it ... I turn and start running ... and running ..... and running ... sweat poring down into my eyes and onto my cheeks ... my shirt is drenched in sweat
I nervously look at each security check as I am running ... there must be a kazillion of them at Heathrow ... you guessed it ... I couldn’t find which security clearance I had come through ... I turn around and start running back in the direction of the Air Canada gate ... I run and ... run ... and run ... sweating even more profusely
I make it to the gate ... no stick in hand ... now Judy’s colleague has a sad look on his face ... he tells me to get on the plane and not worry about my stick ... again I try to reassure him ... it is only a piece of wood .... No big deal!
My sister Judy meets me at the doorway to the plane ... you can imagine the look she has for me ... here she is trying to do me a favour and I have put her in an awkward position ... holding up a plane load of increasingly restless people waiting for this wayward brother of hers.
She hasn’t lost her ‘cool’ though ... she even asks me if I would like to sit up in the cockpit with the pilots for the duration of the flight
In my mind, I quickly ... no way ... I just want to crawl into an obscure location somewhere on this plane and go to sleep and try to imagine that none of this trip really happened
Yet ... not to disappoint my sister or shun her generosity I tried to show some excitement about sitting in the cockpit
I settled into the seat behind the pilot ... the word seat is generous here ... this particular seat may have enjoyed a picturesque view ... absolutely no comfort
I am listening to the pilot and co-pilot go through their checking routines ... trying to stop myself from sweating ...
Whew ... seems its’ done ... all body movements from the pilot and co-pilot suggest we are about to start rolling back ... nope!
The pilot says out loud to the co-pilot ... what’s that all about ... some of the gadgetry was blinking that should not have been blinking ... seems they had to back through this rather tedious checking procedure ... again!
A minute or so later the pilot receives a call ... from somewhere ... who knows where ... I could hear the voice coming through on his ear phones
Someone is trying to tell the pilot that they have a walking stick and ask him if he is willing to open the door and bring it on ... can you believe it ... this walking stick of mine found its’ way into the airplane ... its’ like the stick has a life of its own
My sister Judy quickly claimed the stick and informed me that she would be custodian of the stick until we got home :-)
Left it behind again at the Ottawa airport(same trip)
When I was sharing this story with a friend of mine in Spain a couple of years ago ... he responded ... Bruce ... you should not have this stick ... to which I replied ... Maybe I don’t want to have the stick and I am trying to run away from it (and whatever work comes along with having it)
The tip of my walking stick, though natural wood, is roughly the shape of the head of a serpent ... hmmm ... ???
In the book of numbers (Bible) we are told the story of how at one time while the Israelites were wandering around the Sinai desert they were being bitten by snakes ... and dying!
Moses asked God what to do about this and God instructed him to fashion a serpent out of bronze and place it on a stick. Instruct the people who are subsequently bitten by these snakes to stare upon the bronze snake and they would be healed.
Perhaps this story foreshadowed modern psychology and/or psychiatry ... intriguing that Sigmund Freud, considered by many to be the 'father' of modern psychiatry was Jewish ... a 20th century Moses???
In these ‘behavioral sciences’ the remedial therapy often involves coaching the ‘injured’ individual into 'placing' the details of his/her trauma in front of their face (the more common 'image/picture' is a patient lying on a sofa engaged in a dialogue with the therapist) ... stare at it ... and in the end ... hopefully be healed.
If there is any ‘truth’ in my interpretation of this particular biblical story ... the symbolism seems first rate ... fantastic!
The venomous snake bites 'symbolize' the hurtful experiences of our lives ... sometimes traumatic experiences
These experiences poison our ‘inner being’ ... sometimes fatally! We become desensitized ... disconnected ... unable to ‘feel’ ... love etc. Yet our physical bodies are still intact and we wander through life 'zombie like', often compelled to take powerful mind altering drugs.
Sometimes the injury is so deep and so ‘poisonous’ that are psyche creates a new person/personality ... the split or multiple personality complex.
Interesting that today ... 3,300 years after the experience of the Israelites in the Sinai desert ... we still use the symbol of a serpent on a stick ... medical/veterinary institutions mostly ... seems to always be associated with healing of sorts .... Hmmm
This story started with my spontaneous decision to visit my friend Donna in England which mysteriously lead to the purchase of a walking stick in Santiago de Compostella and finally on to some personal contemplations concerning the story of Moses wandering around in the Sinai desert.
Perhaps it is worth sharing that this same friend Donna was also instrumental in my discovery of Mount Sinai ... according to some, the mountain that Moses climbed for his first encounter with God.
Donna had returned home to England several weeks before I eventually left Kibbutz Erez. A common practice of many of the kibbutz involved taking the volunteers on a three day vacation near the end of their 'term'(usually 3 months). The excursion usually involved visiting some historic Israeli locations/sights.
The time for this vacation was approaching and I had no interest in participating since I had already visited most of the places on the 'vacation' agenda. Not wanting to miss the opportunity for three days off I pondered alternatives for several days.
A few days before I had to decide I received a letter from Donna. She had read an article in some newspaper in England that she thought I might find interesting. Included as part of this article was a map showing the location of Mount Sinai. My response was immediate ... I would take the three days to visit Mount Sinai.
At the time I had no idea about the location of Mount Sinai and had never considered Mount Sinai as a place of interest. The visit was interesting and I left Mount Sinai with 'something' that would bring me back to Mount Sinai three years later(with my walking stick :-))
The 'something' was a letter addressed to the Archbishop of the St Catharine Monastery(apparently the only Christian monastery in the world that has never been destroyed or damaged by man or nature ... circa 550 AD ...hmmm) requesting that he extend me the privilege of viewing the mosaic of the 'Transformation' in a part of the monastery that tourists are not allowed to visit.
During my first visit I managed to get the approval(written in Greek on the back of the letter) but somehow was prevented from fulfilling this privilege.
As mentioned above, I returned to Mount Sinai three years later, walked up the mountain this time(no camel ride most of the way up like the first visit :-)) and the monks honored the 'approval' from the earlier visit.
My first visit to this holy place was more as a tourist than a pilgrim. Seeing the many people wandering around the city centre with a walking stick prompted me to purchase one as a souvenir. It wasn’t until several years later that I noticed the top of my walking stick resembled -the head of a serpent. Years later my meditations turned to the similarity of the serpents experience in the Sinai Desert during the Exodus and modern psychology...
This stick of wood would accompany me along more than 4,000 kilometers of walking the Camino Santiago. The most recent pilgrimage started in Vezelay France, along the historic Voie de Vezelay, south through France, up and over the Pyrenees and ending in Los Arcos Spain. This story tells how this particular walking stick came into my possession, a tale full of mystery and intrigue, twists and turns.
In June 1999 my sister Judy and I were sitting in a sports bar in Guelph. While sipping on my beer I was lamenting about how boring my life was at the time. I suppose I stirred my sisters compassion because soon after she suggested I go with her to London England for the weekend. Judy was working an Air Canada flight to London on weekends at that time and she could arrange my flight for a token of the normal cost.
Despite the negligible expense, traveling all the way to London for a coffee wasn’t very appealing. A beer or two later Judy improved her offer, suggesting I go over to London with her one weekend ... stay in London for the week ... and come back with her the following weekend. Maybe it was the additional beer, suddenly I found her offer quite tempting.
The next day I called my friend Donna who lives a bit north of London. Donna had stayed on the same Kibutz in Israel a year or so earlier. A letter from Donna after she had returned home prompted my first visit to Mount Sinai in Egypt. A very exciting experience, especially sleeping in the same cave Moses used to hide his face from God. Donna seemed enthusiastic about getting together and asked me to call her when we arrived in London. Now my excitement about the trip is in high gear.
Nothing about this trip would turn out as planned. The journey was full of mystery and suspense; twists and turns. The walking stick purchased in Santiago Compostella Spain would eventually help me unravel the meaning of the Israelites experience with the serpents during their exodus in the Sinai desert. How did I end up in Spain? Read on.
We arrived in London and as it turned out my sister Joyce (Judy’'s identical twin sister) would also be in London that weekend (working another Air Canada flight).
That evening at a local bar the three of us drank a few beers together and shared some pleasant conversation. The next day I went looking for Donna’s telephone number ... oops! ... no telephone number in my backpack. Not being able to remember Donna’s family name , there was no way of finding her telephone number or address. Feeling guilty and sad my attention turned to figuring out what to do for a week.
While in Israel, Donna had told me about these last minute dirt cheap vacation holidays from London. I spent the next 24 hours reading papers, listening to these specials on the television and making telephone enquiries about the ones that appeared interesting.
The next day, feeling exasperated, with no where to go and my sisters heading back to Canada being all alone in this very expensive mega city. France suddenly appeared on my radar screen, perhaps triggered by the prospect of visiting my friend Monique in France. We had met several years earlier under difficult circumstances. I unexpectedly arrived at her family home near Lille France the day after her brother Jean Francois had committed suicide.
Finding my way to the train station and buying a train ticket to Portsmouth was uneventful enough. The train was scheduled to depart in about 30 minutes or so. Thinking to myself ... this must be an example of destiny ... the timing is so perfect, what could happen in half an hour? As it turned out, a lot!!
Wandering around the train station waiting for the departure time my eyes caught the word Paris on a small piece of paper on a Kiosk bulletin board. The notice advertised return fare to Paris for 44 pounds. Being on a tight budget and concerned about paying 18 pounds just to get to Portsmouth, I decided to check out this special offer.
The lady at the Kiosk was quite pleasant and confirmed the price and the fact that the bus would leave later on that afternoon. Now what about the train ticket in my pocket. Without a refund I would be forced to engage in another round of cost benefit analysis.
The gentleman at the train ticket wicket, the same one who had just sold me the ticket a few minutes earlier, gave me a scornful look as he heard my gentle plea for a refund. Albeit reluctantly; he refunded my 18 pounds.
Back to the lady at the kiosk, the smile on her face clearly indicated she recognized me. She started filling out some paperwork and made a telephone call. While she was talking on the telephone her expression changed, suggesting there was some sort of problem. After hanging up the telephone she informed me that the bus was full, no available seats. Oh poop! ... What now! Feeling too embarrassed to face the gentleman at the train station, there didn’t seem to be any other alternatives in front of me. So much for destiny!
Now it seems the expression on my face aroused some empathy from the kiosk lady. She informed me that she was an agent and suggested a seat on the bus to Paris may still be available at the bus station. Apparently some seats are reserved for walk on passengers.
Remembering that finding my car in a parking lot is often quite a challenge, how on earth would I find a bus station in this mega city!! The kiosk lady was very encouraging ... just walk straight this way and then that way etc ... Yikes!!
Off to search for the bus station. I found it! What an achievement, surely my reward will be a seat on the bus to Paris!!
After entering the building my mind quickly sized up the situation. There was a very long line of people and an information booth with nobody in line. The information desk seemed the better alternative, waiting in that long line may result in missing the bus.
After explaining my situation to the gentleman at the information desk he handed me a book and instructed me to go and stand in line. Oh poop again! So much for short cuts, by now several more people had joined the ticket line. Despite feeling disappointed with my waste of time, this small book would trigger a significant twist in my journey to Paris.
Standing in line, wondering why this book is my hand, curiosity prompts me to open the book and scan the pages. The book contained numbers, numbers and more numbers. While neatly arranged in tabular form, my brain did not have the capacity to try and understand them. I closed the book.
A few minutes later, still in line ... bored to tears ... seems the book opened itself to the last page. Suddenly something inside me lights up and excitement returns. The title of the last pages was Ferry Schedule ... sitting on a ferry was much more appealing than sitting on a bus. The list included a ferry to Spain for 60-70 pounds. Wow! … even within my budget. Enthusiasm building as I recalled this place in Spain my friend Michelle had told me about several months before ... something about an ancient pilgrimage and Santiago Spain.
When my turn at the wicket finally arrived I excitedly asked about the ferries to Spain. The man asked when and I replied today. You can imagine ... being around 4:00 PM here is this vagabond asking about a ferry leaving for Spain today! You can imagine the look he gave me ... I still remember it. The look clearly said …Are you nuts!!
Nonetheless, I repeated my request and he started looking through his books. After several minutes and the ticket agent whining about how disorganized his books were he found a fare to San Sebastian Spain leaving at 5:30PM. Wow! ... now the only thing left is the question of whether San Sebastian is east of Santiago. I had this fantasy about walking into Santiago. I enquired of the ticket agent and he had no idea about the location of San Sebastian within Spain.
So here I am standing at this wicket with a decision to make. Should I buy this ticket to San Sebastian Spain? I know nothing of the geography of Spain. With a particular destination in mind ... east of this place called Santiago ... and I have no idea where in Spain is this place called Santiago or San Sebastian!!
Being a free spirit, following the wind despite its direction or destination, I bought the ticket. Yikes! What am I doing here? Where am I going? Why am I going to wherever I am going? Unknowingly, this seemingly innocuous decision to buy this particular ticket would chart the next 5 years of my life.
Instructions included being at bus station to board a certain bus at 5:50PM. At the time, these instructions seemed a bit unusual. With a ferry ticket in hand I am going to a bus station? Than it occurred to me ... the bus would likely take us to the dock where the ferry was waiting to take us to Spain. OK ... my mind settled down.
Found the bus and jumped on board, sleeping most of the way to the dock Woke up as we were pulling into Dover, remembered seeing the cliffs of Dover and somehow my memory recalled these cliffs of Dover ... maybe from a poem in school or something ... who knows eh!. Sitting up in my seat an alarm bell went off inside me again ... yikes ... what now?
While being unable to navigate a parking lot, my mind was trying to figure out why we were heading west(London to Dover). We are supposed to be going to Spain which certainly must be south and maybe even East of London. This thought bothered me for a few minutes, but my mind was simply too tired or too weak to give it any further serious consideration.
The bus pulled into a large parking lot and the ship was there waiting for us in the harbor. Thinking to myself ... wow! ... this is real ... there is the ship that will take me to Spain.
Figuring we would be asked to leave the bus and walk onto the ship, puzzled again when the bus drove onto the ship ... now this is weird. Oh well ... again too tired to worry about it.
Walking up onto one of the decks where there were several seating areas with seating big enough to lie down. Since the area was not too crowded, felt this trip would be a treat after all. I could sleep most of the way to Spain ... and I love to sleep!
Nope ... something was still bothering me, something wasn’t right. Finally decided to ask one of the porters where this ferry was headed; hopefully confirm the destination was San Sebastian Spain. The porter gave me one of those priceless looks ... Are you nuts!!
He smiled and gently explained that the ferry was headed for Calais and than return to Dover. Yikes!! Double yikes!! What did my ticket indicate? Where is my ticket? Pulling it out of my pocket, there, to my surprise, was a picture of a bus on the cover. Ding! ... Ding! ... Ding! Bells went off in my head and I sobered up in a hurry. It was now obvious that I had purchased a bus ticket from London to San Sebastian !!!
Who in their right mind would want to spend a week riding the bus to Spain and back to London ... there would be no time for anything else! Seems I was under some kind of hex in London.
Oh well ... I’m on the ship and the water is both too cold and too deep to swim back. Now I am really starting to wonder what this trip is all about. How did I get into that dazed state of mind? Stay in it for so long ... to this day ... I still don’t know.
The bus trip to San Sebastian went by so quickly, hardly even remember any of the trip. I remember the stop in San Sebastian. Thinking it was a piddle break stop, I was happy to get off and smoke a cigarette. When I tried to confirm with the bus driver that I had enough time to have a cigarette ... he tried to explain to me in Spanish, somehow the language of the day had changed somewhere along the way, and of course I don’t know a single word in Spanish. The driver kicked me off the bus, I had arrived in San Sebastian
A few days later I arrive in this place called Santiago ... didn’t ‘walk’ in ... took the train :-)
As I was wandering around the city I saw all these people with walking sticks(I learned later that the walking stick was a defining characteristic of a pilgrim. ... some looked new(all varnished and polished) ... no mileage ... some were simple tree trunks(small trees :-))
These walking sticks appealed to me ... I decided to buy one at one of the tourist stores ... I must have looked pretty funny ... walking around town with my backpack and this shiny new walking stick
Seems within a few hours serious anxiety set in ... I found myself very restless and frustrated with this very strong feeling that I had to get out of town ... get back to London ... weird given the round about journey into town. I spent the next day trying to find a way out of town ... no trains ... no buses ... and the plane was much too expensive. I had no choice but to wait for the next train ... leaving Saturday morning at 9:00 AM. This train should get me to Paris with barely enough time to get back to London and meet up with my sister Judy.
As I was approaching the train station Saturday morning I remember staring at this clock tower that was in the train station parking lot. I stared because the clock read 9:30 and I knew my train would be leaving at 9:00. I had this uneasy feeling in my stomach and as I approached the train station another side of the same clock tower became visible ... the clock read the same time ...9:30 ... I thought to myself ... no way ... it can not be!!
Yup ... I had missed my train ... I didn’t sleep much the night before ... serious pain in my knee which disappeared by early morning
OK ... now what? ... no more trains or buses today ... my sister will be waiting for me in London ... oh shit!!
Reluctantly I decided to take to the air ... bought an expensive airplane ticket ... so much for my budget!
While wandering around the airport I did some shopping ... quite unusual for me ... I rarely buy any gifts ... yet today I was in the mood to buy some trinkets for my sister and my kids.
I got on the plane and was sitting comfortably ... relishing the thought that I would be in London in a couple of hours and I didn’t have to sit on some pokey train for 2 days!
I heard some noise and when I looked up ... here was the clerk from the store where I had just purchased my trinkets waiving this stick in the air and walking down the aisle. I quickly realized she was waiving my stick ... I got up ... retrieved my walking stick and thanked this wonderful lady copiously. This walking stick was all I had to remind of the wonderful ordeal I had just been through.
I met up with my sister Judy at her hotel ... She got me on the bus that takes the Air Canada employees to the airport. She had to leave me on arrival at the airport ... her only instructions were ... leave yourself enough time to find the gate ... we had arrived several hours before the flight was scheduled to leave.
A few hours later ... I am wandering around this mega airport ‘Heathrow’ and I decide it is time to find out which gate the Air Canada flight would be boarding ... I find the appropriate monitor and as my eyes fix on the information I was looking for ... the bells go off inside me yet again ... oh no!! ... the boarding light is flashing for the Air Canada flight to Toronto
You can imagine ... this is the Heathrow airport ... I get lost in a parking lot ... in yet another dopey daze I have lost track of time ... now somehow I have to find this gate
I start running ... and running ... and running ... sweating like a pig ... turning this way and that way ... trying to follow the idiot proof directions to this gate
I arrive at the gate ... a colleague of my sister is standing there all alone ... turns out they have been holding the plane for me ... whew!!
All of a sudden my excitement quickly waned ... that sick feeling in my stomach came back for another visit ... what now!
I realized that I had left my walking stick on the belt at one of the security check points ... oh poop again!
I explained the sad look on my face to my sisters colleague ... he said don’t worry ... go back and get it ... I said to him ... no ... you have already delayed the flight long enough for me ... it is only a stick.
This kind man would not take no for an answer and he insisted I go back and get it ... I turn and start running ... and running ..... and running ... sweat poring down into my eyes and onto my cheeks ... my shirt is drenched in sweat
I nervously look at each security check as I am running ... there must be a kazillion of them at Heathrow ... you guessed it ... I couldn’t find which security clearance I had come through ... I turn around and start running back in the direction of the Air Canada gate ... I run and ... run ... and run ... sweating even more profusely
I make it to the gate ... no stick in hand ... now Judy’s colleague has a sad look on his face ... he tells me to get on the plane and not worry about my stick ... again I try to reassure him ... it is only a piece of wood .... No big deal!
My sister Judy meets me at the doorway to the plane ... you can imagine the look she has for me ... here she is trying to do me a favour and I have put her in an awkward position ... holding up a plane load of increasingly restless people waiting for this wayward brother of hers.
She hasn’t lost her ‘cool’ though ... she even asks me if I would like to sit up in the cockpit with the pilots for the duration of the flight
In my mind, I quickly ... no way ... I just want to crawl into an obscure location somewhere on this plane and go to sleep and try to imagine that none of this trip really happened
Yet ... not to disappoint my sister or shun her generosity I tried to show some excitement about sitting in the cockpit
I settled into the seat behind the pilot ... the word seat is generous here ... this particular seat may have enjoyed a picturesque view ... absolutely no comfort
I am listening to the pilot and co-pilot go through their checking routines ... trying to stop myself from sweating ...
Whew ... seems its’ done ... all body movements from the pilot and co-pilot suggest we are about to start rolling back ... nope!
The pilot says out loud to the co-pilot ... what’s that all about ... some of the gadgetry was blinking that should not have been blinking ... seems they had to back through this rather tedious checking procedure ... again!
A minute or so later the pilot receives a call ... from somewhere ... who knows where ... I could hear the voice coming through on his ear phones
Someone is trying to tell the pilot that they have a walking stick and ask him if he is willing to open the door and bring it on ... can you believe it ... this walking stick of mine found its’ way into the airplane ... its’ like the stick has a life of its own
My sister Judy quickly claimed the stick and informed me that she would be custodian of the stick until we got home :-)
Left it behind again at the Ottawa airport(same trip)
When I was sharing this story with a friend of mine in Spain a couple of years ago ... he responded ... Bruce ... you should not have this stick ... to which I replied ... Maybe I don’t want to have the stick and I am trying to run away from it (and whatever work comes along with having it)
The tip of my walking stick, though natural wood, is roughly the shape of the head of a serpent ... hmmm ... ???
In the book of numbers (Bible) we are told the story of how at one time while the Israelites were wandering around the Sinai desert they were being bitten by snakes ... and dying!
Moses asked God what to do about this and God instructed him to fashion a serpent out of bronze and place it on a stick. Instruct the people who are subsequently bitten by these snakes to stare upon the bronze snake and they would be healed.
Perhaps this story foreshadowed modern psychology and/or psychiatry ... intriguing that Sigmund Freud, considered by many to be the 'father' of modern psychiatry was Jewish ... a 20th century Moses???
In these ‘behavioral sciences’ the remedial therapy often involves coaching the ‘injured’ individual into 'placing' the details of his/her trauma in front of their face (the more common 'image/picture' is a patient lying on a sofa engaged in a dialogue with the therapist) ... stare at it ... and in the end ... hopefully be healed.
If there is any ‘truth’ in my interpretation of this particular biblical story ... the symbolism seems first rate ... fantastic!
The venomous snake bites 'symbolize' the hurtful experiences of our lives ... sometimes traumatic experiences
These experiences poison our ‘inner being’ ... sometimes fatally! We become desensitized ... disconnected ... unable to ‘feel’ ... love etc. Yet our physical bodies are still intact and we wander through life 'zombie like', often compelled to take powerful mind altering drugs.
Sometimes the injury is so deep and so ‘poisonous’ that are psyche creates a new person/personality ... the split or multiple personality complex.
Interesting that today ... 3,300 years after the experience of the Israelites in the Sinai desert ... we still use the symbol of a serpent on a stick ... medical/veterinary institutions mostly ... seems to always be associated with healing of sorts .... Hmmm
This story started with my spontaneous decision to visit my friend Donna in England which mysteriously lead to the purchase of a walking stick in Santiago de Compostella and finally on to some personal contemplations concerning the story of Moses wandering around in the Sinai desert.
Perhaps it is worth sharing that this same friend Donna was also instrumental in my discovery of Mount Sinai ... according to some, the mountain that Moses climbed for his first encounter with God.
Donna had returned home to England several weeks before I eventually left Kibbutz Erez. A common practice of many of the kibbutz involved taking the volunteers on a three day vacation near the end of their 'term'(usually 3 months). The excursion usually involved visiting some historic Israeli locations/sights.
The time for this vacation was approaching and I had no interest in participating since I had already visited most of the places on the 'vacation' agenda. Not wanting to miss the opportunity for three days off I pondered alternatives for several days.
A few days before I had to decide I received a letter from Donna. She had read an article in some newspaper in England that she thought I might find interesting. Included as part of this article was a map showing the location of Mount Sinai. My response was immediate ... I would take the three days to visit Mount Sinai.
At the time I had no idea about the location of Mount Sinai and had never considered Mount Sinai as a place of interest. The visit was interesting and I left Mount Sinai with 'something' that would bring me back to Mount Sinai three years later(with my walking stick :-))
The 'something' was a letter addressed to the Archbishop of the St Catharine Monastery(apparently the only Christian monastery in the world that has never been destroyed or damaged by man or nature ... circa 550 AD ...hmmm) requesting that he extend me the privilege of viewing the mosaic of the 'Transformation' in a part of the monastery that tourists are not allowed to visit.
During my first visit I managed to get the approval(written in Greek on the back of the letter) but somehow was prevented from fulfilling this privilege.
As mentioned above, I returned to Mount Sinai three years later, walked up the mountain this time(no camel ride most of the way up like the first visit :-)) and the monks honored the 'approval' from the earlier visit.