My Walking Stick

One of my few possessions is a walking stick ... an inanimate 'friend' that has accompanied me along more than 4,000 kilometers of 'camino'. The most recent 'walk' started in Vezelay France, along the historic 'Voie de Vezelay', south through France, up and over the pyrennes and into Los Arcos Spain. This post tells the rather intriguing story of how I came to possess this particular walking stick.

In June 1999 my sister Judy and I were sitting in a sports bar in Guelph. While sipping on my beer I was lamenting to my sister about how boring my life was at the time. I suppose I aroused my sisters’ compassion because 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.

I responded that I was not very interested in going all the way to London for a coffee. A beer or two later Judy made the suggestion that I go over to London with her one weekend ... stay in London for the week ... and come back with her the following weekend. I am not sure if was the additional beer but suddenly I found her suggestion quite appealing.

The next day I called my friend Donna who lives a bit north of London. I met Donna while staying on a kibutz in Israel a year or so earlier. Donna seemed quite excited about seeing me and asked me to call her when I arrived in London and she would meet me at the hotel (where my sister would stay). By this time I am quite excited about the trip ... the prospect of spending a week with Donna(who was much younger than I) had me conjuring up all kinds of exciting fantasies ... I would have travelled much farther than London to spend a week with an attractive young lady like Donna :-)

I arrived in London with Judy ... as it turned out my sister Joyce(Judy’'s identical twin sister) would also be in London that weekend(working another Air Canada flight).

We had a few beers together and some pleasant conversation. The next day I went to retrieve Donna’'s telephone number from my backpack ... oops! ... no telephone number ... and I only knew Donna’s first name.

Two lightening rods of grief struck me ... first ... so much for all of my fantasies about spending a week with Donna ... how sad and disappointing ... this alone was enough to knock me down. Later when my mind dug itself out of this pit my mind started to reflect on Donna. She was likely sitting around her house waiting for my telephone call ... only to finally accept that I would not be calling and she too would suffer from the same grief ... the loss of her fantasies about spending a week with me :-) ... now this last comment is first rate fantasy eh!

Oh shit! ... what to do now. 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 tele ... making phone calls etc

The next day I was exasperated ... no where to go ... my sisters going back to Canada ... what on earth would I do ... all alone in this very expensive mega city. I decided I would go to France ... perhaps spurred on by the prospect of visiting my friend Monique in France ... oh what an effect women have on men eh!

I found my way to the train station and bought a train ticket to Portsmouth(the choice of Portsmouth is another story). The train was scheduled to depart in about a half hour . I remember thinking to myself ... this must be my destiny ... the timing seemed so good ... what could happen in half an hour ... (a lot!!)

As I was wandering around the train station waiting for my train I walked by a kiosk and my eyes focused on a small piece of paper on a bulletin board inside the kiosk announcing return fare to Paris for 44 pounds. I pulled my train ticket out of my pocket and reminded myself that I had just paid 18 pounds just to get to Portsmouth ... I still had the channel to cross and than a train or bus into France. Between my budget conscious necessity and my cost benefit analysis ... I quickly figured the return trip to Paris was much more attractive than my train fare to Portsmouth.

I approached the kiosk and enquired about the announcement on the small piece of white paper. The lady was quite pleasant and confirmed the price and the fact that the bus would leave later on that afternoon. Now all I had to do was get a refund for my train ticket ... in the absence of a refund I would be forced to engage in another round of cost benefit analysis :-)

I approached the man at the train ticket wicket ... the same man who I had just purchased the ticket from a few minutes earlier ... the look he gave me when I asked for a refund ... ouch! ... ouch! ... I suppose I looked like a legitimate vagabond because he did ... albeit reluctantly ... give me a refund.

Back to the lady at the kiosk ... all smiles inside ... she recognized me and started filling out some paperwork and got on the phone. The expression on her face said it all while she was talking on the tele. After hanging up the telephone she informed me that the bus was full ... no seats available. Oh shit ... what now! ... I felt too embarrassed to go back and repurchase my train ticket and there were no other alternatives in front of me.

Again the look on my face must have aroused the kiosk ladys’ compassion ... she started to tell me that they were only agents and perhaps if I went direct to the bus station I would still be able to get a seat on the bus.

Now I am thinking to myself ... I get lost in a parking lot ... how on earth would I find a bus station in this mega city!! The lady at the kiosk was very encouraging ... just straight this way and then that way etc ... Yikes!!

I headed for the bus station ... I found it! ... I thought to myself ... what an achievement ... surely my reward will be a seat on this bus to Paris!!

After entering the building my mind quickly processed 2 observations one ... a very long line of people ... two ... an information booth with nobody in line> Again a very quick mental analysis prompted me to walk towards the information desk ... surely I wouldn’t have to wait in the lineup ... I would likely miss the bus.

I explained my query to the man at the information desk. He was congenial enough ... handed me a book and instructed me to go and stand in line ... oh shit again! ... here I thought I was taking the short path to my bus and now I had to go and stand in the very long line ... where several more people had joined the line since the time I had entered the bus station ...seems to be the story of my life J ... there are no short cuts!!

As I am standing in line I start to wonder ... why did this man give me this book that I was now carrying in my hand? I had been quite specific in my request ... I wanted a seat on the bus leaving for Paris this very afternoon ... for 44 pounds ... return!

Nonetheless, here I am standing in this lineup reflecting on how strange my journey to this lineup had been. I scanned the pages in the book 40-50 of them ... numbers and 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 ... I open the book again and go to the last page ... all of a sudden something inside me lights up and I find myself excited ... the title on the last pages was ‘Ferry Schedule’ ... now sitting on a ferry was much more appealing than sitting on a bus ... and there was a ferry to Spain for 60-70 pounds ... wow ... within my budget and my memory recalled this place in Spain my friend Michelle had told me about several months before ... something about an ancient pilgrimmage and Santiago Spain.

When my turn at the wicket finally arrived I excitedly asked about the ferries to Spain. The man asked when I wanted to go and I replied today ... you can imagine ... being around 4:00 in the afternoon and here is this vagabond asking about a ferry leaving for Spain ... today! You can imagine the look he gave me ... I still remember it.

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 Sabastian Spain leaving at 5:30PM this day. Wow ... now the only thing I need to know is whether San Sebastian is east of Santiago ... I had this fantasy about walking into Santiago. I enquired of the ticket agent and he told me he had no idea where in Spain this San Sebastian was.

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 ... I have a particular destination in mind ... east of this place called Santiago ... and I have no idea where in Spain is this place called Santiago!!

Being the cautious methodical and organized person that I am ... the words ..”I’ll take it” spilled out of my mouth ... yikes! ... the thoughts occurred to me ... what am I doing here? ... where am I going?? ... why am I going to wherever I am going??

I was instructed to go to the bus station and take a certain bus at 5:50PM ... at the time I thought these instructions a bit unusual ... I bought a ticket for the ferry and I am going to a bus station? ... and than it occurred to em ... I likely had to take a bus to the dock where the ferry was waiting to take me to Spain ... OK ... my mind settled down

I found the bus and jumped on board ... I slept most of the way top the dock ... I woke up as we were pulling into Dover ... I remember 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!. I sat up in my seat and an alarm bell went off inside me again ... yikes ... what now?

Somehow, while I get lost in a parking lot, my mind was trying to figure out why I was heading west(London to Dover) and I was supposed to be going to Spain which was for sure South and maybe even East ... this thought bothered me for a few minutes ... but it seems 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 I could see the ship ... I thought to myself ... wow! ... this is real ... there is the ship that will take me to Spain

I figured we would be asked to leave the bus and walk onto the ship ... nope ... the bus drove onto the ship ... now this was weird ... oh well ... again too tired to worry about it.

I walked up onto one of the decks and found several seating areas where I could lie down ... and it was not too crowded ... 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 my psyche ... something was not right ... I finally got up the courage to approach one of the porters ... to confirm that I was on a ferry headed for San Sebastian Spain. I got another one of those priceless looks ... wish I had a camera ... he kind of smiled and with a gentle manner explained that this particular ferry was headed for Calais and than back to Dover ... Yikes!! Double yikes!! ... What ticket did I buy?

I went looking for my ticket and as I pulled it out of my pocket I noticed(for the first time) a picture of a bus on the cover of the sleeve holding the ticket ... ding ... ding ... ding .... Bells went off in my head and I sobered up in a hurray.

I had purchased a bus ticket from London England to San Sebastian Spain !!!

I know I would never have purchased a bus ticket ... all the way to Spain ... who in there 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!

Too bad ... 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 ‘daze’ I must have been in ... and 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 ... I thought it was a piddle break stop ... I was happy to get off and have 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

I will fast forward now ... I am supposed to be working :-)

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 part of all pilgrim’s attire) ... 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 thwe train station another side of the same clock tower became visible ... the clock read the same time ...9:30 ... I though 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 wanderin 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 top 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 shit 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 hime ... 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 ... nad 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 me seat behind the pilot ... the word seat is generous hear ... this particular seat may have enjoyed a picturesque view ... absolutely no comfort

I am listening to the pilot and co-pilot go through there 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 responsed ... 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 ‘behavioural 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 .... Hmmmm

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 Kibutz Erez. A common practice of many of the kibutz 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 ...hmmmm) requesting that he extend me the priviledge 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 priviledge.

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 honoured the 'approval' from the earlier visit.