The Pilgrimage Read Free

heard some shouted insults in French, but I finally
     made it through to the fortified sector that constituted the oldest part of the city,
     where Mme Lourdes lived. Even this high in the Pyrenees, it was hot during the day, and I
     was soaked with perspiration as I got out of the car.
    I knocked at the gate. I knocked again, but there was no response. A third time, and still
     nothing happened. I felt confused and worried. My wife had said that I had to arrive there
     exactly on that day, but no one answered when I called out. I thought that perhaps Mme
     Lourdes had gone out to watch the parade, but it was also possi- ble that I had arrived
     too late and that she had decided not to meet with me. My journey along the Road to
     Santiago seemed to have ended even before it had begun.
    Suddenly, the gate opened, and a child jumped through it. I was startled, and in halting
     French I asked for Mme Lourdes. The child smiled at me and pointed toward the house. It
     was only then that I saw my mis- take: the gate led onto an immense courtyard, around
     which were situated medieval houses with balconies. The gate had been open, and I hadnt
     even thought to try its handle.
    I ran across the courtyard and up to the house that the child had indicated. Inside, an
     elderly, obese woman yelled something in Basque at a small boy with sad, brown eyes. I
     waited for a few moments, giving the argument a chance to end; it finally did, with the
     poor boy being sent to the kitchen under a hail of insults from the old woman. It was only
     then that she turned to me and, without even asking what it was that I wanted, led me
     with delicate gestures and slight shoves to the second floor of the small house. This
     floor consisted of just one room: a small, crowded office filled with books, objects,
     statues of San Tiago, and memorabilia from the Road. She took a book from its shelf and
     sat down behind the only table in the room, leaving me standing.
    You must be another pilgrim to Santiago, she said, without preamble. I need to enter your
     name in the reg- ister of those who walk the Road.
    I gave her my name, and she wanted to know if I had brought the Scallops. She was
     referring to the shells adopted as a symbol by pilgrims to the tomb of the
    apostle; they served as a means of identification for the pilgrims when they met.*
    Before leaving for Spain, I had made a pilgrimage to a place in Brazil called Aparecida do
     Norte. There, I had purchased an image of Our Lady of the Visitation, mounted on three
     scallop shells. I took it from my knapsack and offered it to Mme Lourdes.
    Pretty but not very practical, she said, handing it back to me. It could break during your
     pilgrimage.
    Its not going to break. And I am going to leave it at the tomb of the apostle.
    Mme Lourdes appeared not to have much time for me. She gave me a small card that would
     help me to get lodging at the monasteries along the Road, stamped it with the seal of
     Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port to indicate that I had started the pilgrimage there, and said that
     I could leave with Gods blessing.
    But where is my guide? I asked.
    What guide? she answered, a bit surprised but also with a gleam in her eye.
    I realized that I had forgotten something very impor- tant. In my eagerness to arrive and
     be attended to, I had neglected to say the Ancient Word a kind of password that
     identifies those who belong to the orders of the Tradition. I immediately corrected my
     mistake and said
    * The Road to Santiago has made only one mark on French cul- ture, and that has been on
     that countrys national pride, gastron- omy, through the name Coquilles Saint-Jacques.
    the word to her. In response, Mme Lourdes quickly snatched from my hands the card she had
     given me a few moments earlier.
    You wont be needing this, she said, as she moved a pile of old newspapers that were
     sitting on top of a card- board box. Your road and your stopping places will