Accidentally Spiritual in Spain

I had never heard of the Camino or Santiago de Compostela. Knowing none of the history, I blindly followed my friend Suzanne to Santiago de Compostela in Galicia, Spain. Suzanne told me that we had to go to the cathedral for mass at 12:00 noon. The artistic renderings, architecture, and history of cathedrals in general create a great place to visit. I had yet to attend a mass because I am not catholic and I do not speak the language. I thought this would be another cultural phenomenon for me, so I readily agreed.
The mass was an abundance of experiences. The most breath taking happened when the priests lifted this holy ball of some type billowing smoke and it swung just feet over people’s heads and I was waiting for someone to get pelted by it. It was very hard for me to take it very seriously because I was overwhelmed by the people watching, and avoiding the flying ball.
The next day, we were waiting for a tour just outside the cathedral when these two strapping young men sat down on the steps close to where I was standing. The first took his shoes off. His socks were wet and he tenderly peeled them off his feet. The second boy was a little slower. He took them off inch by inch because with those wet socks came also bits of skin. He did not whimper or scream in agony. He just continued the careful separation of skin and cloth with a determined grimace. I asked them what had happened. They had just completed walking the Camino; they took the pilgrimage which had started in France. The poor boy’s skin was raw, blistered, and bleeding, yet instead of going to the doctor, home, or staying where he was and recovering for a little while, he slipped his flip flops on and limped into the cathedral right in time for the 12:00 mass.
I thought of my infantile catholic experience and thought that I should have tried to see the belief and the faith of the church goers instead of going into the cathedral as a tourist. I cannot imagine what a spiritual climax this mass must be for people who have walked hundreds of miles to be there. We spent a couple of days there and I was very humbled to see all the different groups walk into the plaza of the Santiago de Compostela cathedral.
Seeing the differences in cultures and marveling at them is one of my passions in life. Why cultures did not translate into religion, I’m not sure. It was nice to get a glance at what it’s like to walk in someone else’s well-worn shoes.