Attila the Hun
It seems finding the right balance between aloneness and togetherness is a key to contentment. The endless tidal dance of moving apart and coming together, replicated daily.
The happiest pilgrims I´ve met so far are those who have figured out some such arrangement. Attila the Hungarian (that´s right, named after the Hun, a source of pride for Hungarians, he explained) was miserable the first 11 days of his pilgrimage, alone. Then he ran into Tomas, a German, and the two have been walking alone during the days, with Tomas the faster walker, and meeting up every night in refuges to drink wine and chat and feast. There are not many pilgrims in the winter, so it´s good to have someone to talk to.
But I think I may have destroyed their relationship.
Snoring is always an issue in the dormitories of these refuges, so I joked: "Okay, tonight we have a snoring contest--who can snore the loudest." There was puzzled silence, some laughter. Looking at fat Attila, I thought for sure he snores. "Does he snore, Tomas?"
"Yes, he snarks quite loud." (apparently Tomas thinks the word is snark)
"Oh my god," said Attila, who carried a sense of wonder at everything around him. "Oh my god. You never told me." He kept repeating this. He was in utter shock at this betrayal.
"Call you girlfriend and ask her if you snark. You keep me awake every night with your snarking. But it´s ok. That is a real part of the camino. It is no reason
to end the companionship."
"Oh my god. Oh my god. I don´t believe it. Well you are screaming in your sleep every night. And I told you. And it is such a shock to my system to wake every
night to screaming, in German, words I don´t understand. Why so much anger?"
"I´m angry because I can´t sleep because of your snarking. Anyway, it´s okay, let´s change the story. Anyone know a good story? Tell us about your old Perron," he said to a Chileano who is biking the trail (confusing Argentina and Chile).
"I think you mean Pinochet," I said. We talked about dictators for awhile; I endured the familiar feeling of everyone looking at my reaction when the Bush-Hitler analogy is made; and I noticed that Attila wasn´t participating. He was staring vacantly into space.
"What are you thinking about right now, Attila?" I asked. "Snoring?"
"Yes. Oh my god. I can´t believe it. He never said anything."
"Because I can´t change it," Tomas said. "What can I do. You know I even thought of calling his cell phone, letting the voicemail pick up, and recording his snarking, just so he could hear it for a few seconds how he snarks. Yes, it would cost me one euro. But I think it would be worth it."
"Okay, really," Attila said. "I think we should change the story. It´s like we are girlfriends, now. I propose next time we sleep in separate rooms."
"Does anyone know the song from the medieval ages?" I asked. I sang for them a camino song from the medieval ages, which they seemed to enjoy, and Tomas went off to bed with a smile and Attila looked dazed.
The happiest pilgrims I´ve met so far are those who have figured out some such arrangement. Attila the Hungarian (that´s right, named after the Hun, a source of pride for Hungarians, he explained) was miserable the first 11 days of his pilgrimage, alone. Then he ran into Tomas, a German, and the two have been walking alone during the days, with Tomas the faster walker, and meeting up every night in refuges to drink wine and chat and feast. There are not many pilgrims in the winter, so it´s good to have someone to talk to.
But I think I may have destroyed their relationship.
Snoring is always an issue in the dormitories of these refuges, so I joked: "Okay, tonight we have a snoring contest--who can snore the loudest." There was puzzled silence, some laughter. Looking at fat Attila, I thought for sure he snores. "Does he snore, Tomas?"
"Yes, he snarks quite loud." (apparently Tomas thinks the word is snark)
"Oh my god," said Attila, who carried a sense of wonder at everything around him. "Oh my god. You never told me." He kept repeating this. He was in utter shock at this betrayal.
"Call you girlfriend and ask her if you snark. You keep me awake every night with your snarking. But it´s ok. That is a real part of the camino. It is no reason
to end the companionship."
"Oh my god. Oh my god. I don´t believe it. Well you are screaming in your sleep every night. And I told you. And it is such a shock to my system to wake every
night to screaming, in German, words I don´t understand. Why so much anger?"
"I´m angry because I can´t sleep because of your snarking. Anyway, it´s okay, let´s change the story. Anyone know a good story? Tell us about your old Perron," he said to a Chileano who is biking the trail (confusing Argentina and Chile).
"I think you mean Pinochet," I said. We talked about dictators for awhile; I endured the familiar feeling of everyone looking at my reaction when the Bush-Hitler analogy is made; and I noticed that Attila wasn´t participating. He was staring vacantly into space.
"What are you thinking about right now, Attila?" I asked. "Snoring?"
"Yes. Oh my god. I can´t believe it. He never said anything."
"Because I can´t change it," Tomas said. "What can I do. You know I even thought of calling his cell phone, letting the voicemail pick up, and recording his snarking, just so he could hear it for a few seconds how he snarks. Yes, it would cost me one euro. But I think it would be worth it."
"Okay, really," Attila said. "I think we should change the story. It´s like we are girlfriends, now. I propose next time we sleep in separate rooms."
"Does anyone know the song from the medieval ages?" I asked. I sang for them a camino song from the medieval ages, which they seemed to enjoy, and Tomas went off to bed with a smile and Attila looked dazed.
posted by Thon at 9:46 AM
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