Each day is a little life; every waking and rising a little birth; every fresh morning a little youth; every going to rest and sleep a little death. - Arthur Schopenhauer
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Today was a very short day of walking. But I hope a very important day of the trip.
When I left the albergo, Giancarlo said that my target for the day Aulla, was only 10km away as far as he knew, maybe 40km (did he mean 14?) by the Via Francigena.
I thought since I had taken such a long way yesterday, I would try the most direct route today. I walked a very unscenic path along cars and gas stations to Aulla, until I found the bicycle path, which worked very well.
I arrived in Aulla with plenty of time to spare, and looked at the pilgrim musuem there. I asked for a stamp. I tried to show that my pilgrim passport was full and I wanted to buy another if possible. I thought this was successful.
Then I tried to ask what the pilgrim accomodation was. The volunteer told me she did not know. But I saw a sign for the abbey. I knew I had to be in the right place.
I watched the volunteer lead another pilgrim with walking sticks, a sun hat and a big bag pack to a building behind the church.
I was sure I was in the right place! But why hadn’t the volunteer showed me the way? I read a paper on the musuem table about the accomodation for pilgrims, very clearly printed in 4 languages, including English.
I realized very sheepishly that since I was walking with the tiny canvas daybag I had picked up at the the Col de Grand San Bernard Giftshop, and a cool linen dress with my sneakers because my other two outfits were dirty, the volunteer had just quickly judged I was a lost tourist looking for a hotel, not a Via Francigena pilgrim looking for the abbey.
I found this kind of funny. I showed all the stamps on my passport since Canterbury and a photo of my the big backpack I left behind. I don’t even think I had to do all that, just asking a second time was enough.
But something crystallized. Watching the other pilgrims filter in, all arriving in the early afternoon in a uniform of big Osprey backpacks, wide brim hats, and walking sticks, I saw a real part of the walking/pilgrim culture people who have done the Camino de Santiago first (which is most people) talk about.
On my lonely track, I had been taking notes from Simone De Beauvoir, who I read in a panel somewhere in France “didn’t bother with all the preliminaries, and never obtained the semi-official rig of rucksack, studded shoes, rough skirt and windcheater breaker”.
I watched the other pilgrims wash their clothes in the sink first thing and put them in the sun to dry, then relax and organize their packs.
Yup, never tried it.
I talked to the other people in the room who wanted to know how many kilometers I was making everyday. I watched people take out their thread and needle for blisters.
So this is the simple rhythm of life people are enjoying when they talk about pilgrimage.
The girl on the bottom bunk who said she would start at 6am tomorrow.
To me, a lot of the Via Francigena experience has been as erratic and eccentric, as full of people and media and tangents as my life in New York
My pilgrim life has happened between the hours of 10AM to 10PM. It never took on the measured, disciplined satisfaction I used to feel about recycling, laundry, and cleaning when I stuck to the same routine for 4 months, part of a time when I moved outside Manhattan and saved carefully for a trip like this someday.
I reflected on all this as I took a shower, washed my clothes in the sink, and angled them in the sun to dry.
tie dye crop top of mine fell below the balcony and an Italian nun in a white and beige habit retrieved it without translation.
Maybe there was something to being a 6am pilgrim, a sub 4 marathoner, someone whose phone stays charged and follows their GPS. I still had time to find out.
With my extra hour before dinner, I sat at the fold out table in the window and put pen to paper. I copied the name of each city remaining from the Via Francigena app into the days of my paper planner with the distance in kilometers. I caught a glimpse of Rome and experienced a new thrill.
