Camino Francés: A Table in Orisson
Written by Kevin Spain from Dublin, Ireland
Pilgrim Table evokes a deep memory for me of our first stage on the Camino when we stayed in Refuge Orisson just outside Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port about 14 years ago.
We sat down for a meal with about 20 people seated at a long table. When the meal was served the young woman invited us to go around the table and introduce ourselves and she left us to it.
It was magical, people spoke in numerous languages I could not understand but I knew what they were saying. All this time later it still stirs my emotions. I had the privilege of hearing my children introduce themselves including Cormac, my son, who was only 12 years of age. I have returned to the Camino many times, but that pilgrim table in Orison always remains very special.
Among the pilgrims at the table were three Spanish guys who were friends and happened to be doctors. After the meal myself and Cormac went out onto the road and played hurling (an Irish game something like lacrosse). We had packed two hurleys so Cormac could be occupied after our day of walking. As you know carrying extra weight is not without a price but our hurleys became very, very important.
This particular evening the three Spanish guys were intrigued by a game they had not seen before and Cormac was teaching them how to play. The Spanish did not speak one word of English so there was a lot of laughing and gestures. For the next few days we would meet the same guys and they would champion this little boy and ruffle his hair and try to play with our hurleys.
Before our week-long pilgrimage was up the guys told us they were finishing up and going home in the morning. Lots of hand gestures. They made a big fuss about Cormac and one of them presented Cormac with his compass.
It was a simple little thing that he had carried hooked to his bag but it was a big gesture. And we said our goodbyes. For the next few days the compass was now on the back pack that Cormac insisted on carrying. And then we returned home, Cormac with his compass and me with a story I still treasure and which brings tears to my eyes as I type.
The following year we turned to our second leg of the Camino. During our week I recall entering a town by crossing a bridge and the rain was pelting down. We took shelter in a packed cafe and made our way through the crowd carefully with our wet backpacks.
As I passed a table I saw two of the Spanish guys from the previous year sitting at a table. They had also returned to their Camino. I pointed them out to Cormac who went over to them and stood at their table while they looked up and recognised him.
What a joyful scene of fun and laughter. And then Cormac opened up his hand to show them the compass they had gifted him. When the rain eased we wished them a Buen Camino and never saw them again.
I must ask Cormac if he still has the compass.
