Camino, Day 5
I started very early, at 8:30 a.m., in Barcelos, and I found myself a little lost going through the town. But eventually, I got on the right track. I even saw a Barcelos rooster, which was incredibly colourful, with deep shades of red, blue, and gold.
The first 15 kilometres were mainly lovely, but I did come across my first hill, which was quite a struggle. But I made it.
I came across this dog who walked with me for a little while. Sadly, he appeared to be a stray, or maybe he was a farmer’s dog. The worst is when there is nothing I can do, which was the case here, as I had to keep walking. But I’m hoping the local community will look after him.
I eventually arrived at the halfway point and had a lovely meal, which consisted of soup, rice, bread, fries, egg, alheira sausage, and coffee. This was in a small town called Balugães. I was even chatting to a lovely older man. He spoke some French, which was great.
After Balugães, things started getting difficult. I ended up doing 20 kilometres extra. In total, I did 35 kilometres today — the longest walk in my entire life.
I simply kept putting one foot in front of another.
I came across plenty of sights: water fountains, cornfields, churches, pilgrims, and shrines. At one shrine, I left a cone I had collected yesterday as an offering.
I remember the tiredness. The sheer exhaustion. But I kept going.
I remember everything I went through: losing Grandad and Nana, the breakdown of my relationship with Pedro in Cork, that feeling of being lost, alone, and stuck. I remember my dad and my sisters when I was already down, but still got knocked further.
I remember the rapid river, the night I stood at those railings, the night I wanted everything to end.
But then I remember my Nana.
I remember her singing to Lyric FM. I remember her in her art room painting. I remember her wheeling in with her walker, with a cup of tea and toast for me.
I remember my Grandad and all the quizzes he would do with so much passion. I remember him with queer guidance and for being the reason I chose to study German. I remember how smart and kind he was.
I think about my mom and how difficult this past year has been for her, and all I want to do is hug the life out of her when I get to Shannon.
Also, happy birthday, John, and see you later, Paddy.
I think of my dad and, despite everything — despite the good, the bad, and the ugly — he still loves me, and he still does his best. And for that, I am honoured to call him my dad.
I think of Eileen, and I think of how cruel she has had it. All I want to do is take the pain away from her and give her a big hug.
I think of all my aunties, uncles, cousins, Annette, Richard, and Joe. I know they have all been my biggest supporters, and I can’t wait to tell them everything.
I think of my friends in Galway, Cork, Brussels, Germany, Portugal, and Dublin, and I am forever grateful for all of them, in good times and bad.
I think of Maria and Paulo, Pedro’s parents and how they still treat me as part of the family. I thought I would be looked at differently, but nope. They treated me with wide-open arms, fed me, danced with me, hugged me until I couldn’t breathe, and that will bring me to my flight home.
I think of Pedro. I think of all the difficulties we went through , but I know he needed to go home and I needed to go to Brussels. I think that, despite the sad past between us, we have a new future.
The block button will be on standby, just in case, though.
For what it’s worth, I am glad and cautiously hopeful to have him back in my life again.
Most importantly, I think of me.
I think of the girl who once stood at those river rails.
The same girl works for the Irish Presidency in Brussels now. She travels to Luxembourg for big ministerial meetings. She looks after senior ministers. She has travelled to Barcelona, Cinque Terre, Helsinki, Brussels, Luxembourg, Lille, all over Belgium and the Netherlands, and now Portugal. And next year, she’ll be going to Japan for three weeks.
This girl has spoken publicly about her mental health struggles to high-level senior EU officials, including EU Commissioner Michael McGrath.
This girl helped organise Darkness into Light in Belgium.
Despite everything life kept throwing at her, she chose to leave those river rails.
She chose to keep going.
The recent eclipse sums it up best. The river rails were first shrouded in darkness, but then the sun comes out — small at first, and then this massive burst.
Things get better. Lighter.
She chose to follow that light and walk into a new world and forge her own path.
At the end of those 35 kilometres, my legs felt as if they were about to sink to the floor. I remember seeing a sign saying, “Ponte de Lima — 1 kilometre,” and I screamed in pure joy and shouted, “Fuck!”
Only to see an old man looking out his window.
When I got to the hotel, I realised what I had achieved.
I walked towards the light, and I succeeded today.
I will continue this path tomorrow until the end.
I have 20 kilometres tomorrow. I wish I was going to Santiago de Compostela — maybe next year or the year after — but I will be in Tui, Spain, tomorrow.
I will beam with pride when I cross the border over the River Minho.
That girl I talked about earlier — me — instead of losing herself to a river in Cork, will now forge her own path across a river into Spain.
Resilience, determination, and the refusal to quit — to keep fighting for the day after the storm — have brought me to this point.
One more day. One last push.
Let’s keep moving forward.
Buen Camino. Bom Caminho.
