Day 29 - Laaiplek

Monday, November 4

Dwarskersbos to Laaiplek

12k/7.5mi

Cool, Windy, Partly Cloudy

 

 

After another night of broken sleep – a stomach ache and waking from a vivid pilgrimage dream not knowing where I was – I started the day on edge. It seemed that all my acceptance and good humor of the day before circled down some existential drain in the night. My journaling was full of anger at unfairness and at A. for always getting her way. It was also full of anguish and questioning myself and questioning the value of putting myself through everything. 

 

Toward the end of my journaling, Clare came downstairs. It was still pretty early and no one else was out of their rooms yet. She sharked around the space, circling and wandering without talking. As it was the second time she’d done something like this, I was really curious what she hoped to accomplish. Still, my courage failed and I didn’t ask.

 

 

Despite the angsty start, I was looking forward to the day. It was the day before my birthday, a day I’d anticipated eagerly in my planning for the pilgrimage. For one thing, I had decided I could take a break from my Facebook break to receive what I knew would be numerous greetings on my Facebook feed. I was happy to consider all the reconnecting I might do with people I shared love with. In my early planning, I also anticipated that I might get to feel extra special in a place that I held as so special.

 

By that time in the walk, however, I had let go of expecting anything in particular for my birthday. Clare had knocked the whole getting to feel special thing out of me. Peggy had mentioned she might try to join me for my birthday, but that seemed very unlikely at that point. Except for Cynthia, I didn’t think anyone remembered it was my birthday, and I had grown okay with that. I was at peace with whatever happened, and I was happy to feel that way – to know that perhaps there had in fact been some growth and healing happening in the last weeks. 

 

I was really good with just (just!) being in Africa on a pilgrimage as enough of a way to celebrate turning 73. The miracle of that, the miracle of a body that was thriving on that, the miracle of knowing I was loved, even if all my beloveds were not with me on my special day – it was more than enough. 

 

I was standing in Melodey’s kitchen making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (so happy for peanut butter!) when my eyes were suddenly covered from behind. I turned around to see Debbie smiling broadly at me and then enveloping me in a huge hug. Her husband, Ammie, was standing next to her. 

 

Two years before, Ina and Frikkie and I were invited to their house for lunch. They wanted to start being hosts on the Camino, and we were their trial run. It was a most delightful interlude with amazing food eaten in the company of two of the warmest, kindest, most thoughtful people I’d known. They walked with us to the next town, unofficial chaperones and guides through the small fishing village where we found souvenirs and ice cream. They were on my list of people I could hardly wait to see again.

 

 

Debbie was dropping off Ammie, who was our chaperone for that day. A day that would end at their house. We didn’t get going until after 8:00, which I wasn’t thrilled about, but also didn’t give much energy to. The morning was cold and windy, but invigorating. We didn’t even get past the houses of the village before we saw Melodey coming toward us. She had my lunch, which I’d pulled out of my pack looking for something, and forgotten to grab. It was nice to have one more hug and smile from her. 

 

 

I walked with Ammie for a long time, enjoying catching up with him and just being in his open and generous energy. Cynthia and I also walked together for a long time, which was starting to feel a little bittersweet.

 

We were days away from a huge change in our group. Cynthia’s daughter would be joining us, so our partnership would be shifting. Ina and Frikkie would also be joining, so for the first time I’d be with people who were both my friends and my age. There was also another huge change coming. One no one foresaw and one that shook us all deeply. 

 

 

There was a restaurant just opened for the day not too far down the beach.  We stopped for coffee, happy for the cappuccinos, the bathroom, and the chance to get out of the wind for a bit. While we were all seated together, Ammie brought up sleeping arrangements. Their house had room for four pilgrims. They’d be sleeping at a neighbor’s house and needed one pilgrim to join them. I volunteered gladly, happy for the chance to spend time with them separate from the group. 

 

As we proceeded up the beach, the wind picked up. We could see a huge area of menacing black sky ahead and were hoping it would somehow miss us. It didn’t. When it became clear we were about to be stormed on, everyone pulled on rain gear. I had not packed mine, assuming we’d have more of the sunshine we’d become accustomed to. Cynthia pulled out a plastic one-use poncho she just happened to have in her pack and helped me struggle into it as the wind tried its best to pull it out of our hands and whip it away. 

 

I’d barely gotten myself tucked into as much of it as I could when the sheets of rain pelted us. We tucked our heads and pushed forward, any exposed skin sandblasted by the beach being flung forward by the wind. For a while we could barely see and anything not covered by rain gear was soaked through. We looked back from time to time, in part to get relief from the assault of wind, rain and sand, and in part to see how our companions were doing. They were laughing, as we were, and pushing forward one difficult step at a time. 

 

The storm passed fairly quickly, leaving us with a calmer wind and sunshine to dry everything. We were energized and there was an air of celebration at having gotten through the storm. We were also grateful it happened on a relatively short walking day, that we were close to our destination, so there was no long-term discomfort. 

 

 

The beach, as it had been doing for our entire time walking it, offered us gifts from the sea. Interesting shells and stones, and on this day a newly dead shark. It was small and spotted and odd-looking, still soft when Ammie picked up its tail so we could get a better look. 

 

 

 

As we got closer to the spot where we’d leave the beach, Ammie pointed to a large tree ahead. That would be our turning point. By that time, A. was behind the rest of the group, but within sight. He took the four of us to his house and went back for her. He was gone for a very long time and we learned later A. had gone past the tree (not watching where we were ahead of her), and he had to chase her down. 

 

 

 

We all sat enjoying tea and being out of the wind and their sweet dog Daisy while waiting for our luggage. Cynthia had gotten a room with an en suite bathroom at one end of the house, while the other three got rooms at the other end. When our luggage arrived, I showered in Cynthia’s room, packed an overnight bag, and left my luggage tucked in a corner of her room. 

 

Ammie drove us into town for a grocery store visit. Cynthia stayed back to work, grateful for the quiet time and space. I shopped for pens, journals, and chocolate (for me and for Cynthia). Ammie had things on his list for our dinner and was looking for a treat for Debbie. Ammie and I ran into her also shopping for last minute items for our dinner. The other three were in the separate liquor section. I followed Ammie there when my shopping was done, and watched him buy wine for Debbie and non-alcoholic drinks for Cynthia and me. 

 

Clare and A. and Anna-marie stocked up in a serious way. I saw whiskey and wine and beer being taken to the counter. By this time in the walk, I was not paying much attention to their alcohol consumption because it was a steady and everyday thing and there was nothing I could do to change it. I was no longer recording any observations about the drinking in my journal, but I could always tell when the effects of alcohol became the prominent part of their personalities. 

 

Once the shopping was completed, Anna-marie left from the grocery store with friends to spend the rest of the afternoon with them. Ammie, Clare, A. and I went to the waterfront to visit a local and well-known coffeeshop. There we enjoyed the rustic surroundings, delicious coffee, and carrot cake. Afterwards he drove us around the harbor for a little sight-seeing, and then home. 

 

We found Debbie there working on dinner. She mentioned Arni would be stopping by to deliver A.’s walking sticks, which she’d left at his house. A. said her real estate agent would be stopping by later that day as well. 

 

When Arni arrived, he not only had A.’s sticks, but was also carrying a birthday cake and cupcakes. He looked like the cat that ate the canary, so pleased that he’d been able to surprise me. He said he knew from Cape Camino that tomorrow was my birthday, and that I wouldn’t be making a thing out of it, so he decided to do it for me. 

 

Arni, Ammie, Debbie, Cynthia and I all sat at the table. Clare and Anna-marie stood watching.  A. was in the lounge talking to her agent and a friend, and was unaware of what was happening at the table. They sang happy birthday and I blew out one candle and felt loved and celebrated and so happy. We ate cake and visited. A. ended my portion of the party when she came over and announced she’d just bought a house in Cape Town. She didn’t look at me, or acknowledge me in any way. The focus shifted entirely to her with congratulations and hugs.

 

I kept my ungracious feelings about her house purchase and her stomping all over my birthday celebration to myself. I wasn’t sure how an illegal resident could buy a house, and again amazed that A. was able to draw all attention to herself and get what she wanted no matter what. 

 

In the chaos of congratulating and clearing the table in preparation for dinner, Arni and I sat at the end of the table and visited. That was my favorite part of the entire day, and the best of the many gifts he’d brought that day. I was sad when he left. 

 

While Cynthia and I sat in the lounge waiting for dinner to be served, she gave me my birthday gift. It was the fabric I’d picked out with her in Redelinghuys, plus rooibos tea and a book and a sweet card. I was so grateful for her, for the companionship and care we’d shared over the last weeks, and that I got to be a recipient once more of her incredible generosity of heart.

 

Dinner was loud and happy. Both Cynthia’s dinner prayer and Ammie’s toast included my birthday, A.’s house, and our pilgrimage. The food was abundant and delicious: chicken cutlets, pasta, homemade bread, salad, and koeksisters for dessert. Wine flowed even more freely than usual. At one point I watched A. get up and go to the sideboard, coming back with a water glass filled to the brim with wine. 

 

Debbie was apologetic about the lateness of dinner and kept offering to take me to the house where we’d be sleeping. She was concerned how tired I looked, even though I was clearly (I thought) enjoying the evening. I insisted I was fine and could wait. She and Ammie cleared the table and put food away as quickly as they could, refusing offers of help. The others headed off to bed as we got ready to go to their friends’ house where we’d be sleeping. A. stayed up talking and was still talking as we went out the door to get in the car. 

 

As I stood outside waiting for Debbie and Ammie to separate from A., I looked up. The sky was hazy with a bright crescent rimming a grayscale shadow of the moon, and Jupiter just above, a beacon in the night. I breathed in the cold air and gratitude for the love I’d felt, received and given, that day. 

 

Our original plan had been to walk to the house, but as we drove through the cold dark and windy night, it turned out to be quite a bit farther than I thought. I was glad for the ride. By that time, I was tired enough that my connection to what was happening was blurring. The teenage daughter of the house greeted us outside and brought us in. Her two moms, who were sleeping away so we could have the house, greeted us, along with an ancient Golden Retriever and a very friendly ginger cat.  While Debbie visited with them, Ammie showed me to my room, reminding me we’d need to be up and out very early in the morning. 

 

I registered the flower and candy on my pillow along with the lushness of the bedding and the warmth of the room. South African hospitality extended to a complete stranger as a favor to friends. I fell asleep almost instantly, full of food and love and gratitude. My last day as a 72-year-old definitely a worthy end to an eventful year.