The Way the End Begins Page #6

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Joost, call the American embassy!

Tell them I've been kidnapped on

the Camino de Compostela!

My pilgrimage has been compromised!

God bless America! Everyone!

# God bless America

# Land that I love

# Stand beside her, and guide her

How do you say "I'm sorry" in Spanish?

Lo siento.

- Lo siento, senor.

- Buen Camino.

Gracias.

Adis.

I don't really remember very much.

That might be a good thing.

Thank you for bailing me out.

You can thank my credit card.

I intend to reimburse you.

You agree to let me use

the story in my book,

- we can call it even.

- Not a chance.

Well, I could still include it anyway.

Change the names.

- You wouldn't.

- I would.

As far as anecdotes go, it's one of

the best from my journey so far.

My friends, you know, my patients,

they're gonna read your book,

get the wrong impression of me.

Do you honestly believe that your mates

from the country club

would waste their time reading my book?

Good point.

What was your son like?

Daniel's story has got nothing to do

with any deal.

I have to explain why you're out

on the Camino, Tom.

I can't just introduce some crazy,

drunk American into the narrative

- without giving him purpose.

- "Crazy, drunk American." Thanks.

I can read his obituary

at any Internet caf along the way.

But I can't imagine it would

shed any light on

who he was

or what he meant to you.

He was my son.

What do you think he meant to me?

Daniel was a lot like you.

Smart. Confident.

Stubborn.

Pissed me off a lot.

May I?

Thank you.

Sarah! Hey! a va?

Hey! Carlo!

Hey! Ciao, bella.

- Hello.

- I'm Jack.

- Jack. How are you? Good to see you.

- Carlo.

Hola!

- Tom!

- Father Frank.

- Are you just getting to Burgos?

- This very moment.

Hey, listen, you've gotta stay

at least a day.

Tour the cathedral.

El Cid is buried there.

The Chuck Heston film.

Let me buy a weary traveller a drink.

- They've come in handy.

- They usually do.

Maybe a couple tapas, too,

here, sir.

I don't have to tell you, but this

Spanish coffee is really strong.

- Yeah, I know.

- I can't drink it in the afternoon.

Otherwise, I don't sleep a wink,

no matter how far I've walked.

Isn't this weather beautiful?

He plays the banjo.

Hey, that kid took my bag!

That kid stole my bag!

Hey! Hey!

Come here, you little bollocks!

- I'll go door to door if I have to.

- No, no, Tom. Not here.

- Why not?

- It's Gypsies, Tom.

- So what?

- It's all Gypsy housing.

- So what!

- Listen, you start knocking

on the doors here, you might not

be happy with what you find behind it.

Having your backpack stolen

will be the least of your worries.

Then we have to file a police report

or something.

No, cops hate Gypsies.

They don't want anything to do with it.

Not in Amsterdam, not here,

not anywhere in Europe.

Sorry, Boomer.

Can you hear me, son?

I know you're here!

- Just give me the box!

- Tom.

Just give me the little box!

You can keep the pack!

Just give me the box!

What are you doing?

Oh, this is great stuff, Tom.

What you're saying, I gotta get it down.

You can't give up now, Tom.

It's a big city. We can...

We can get you new gear.

I'll take a bus to Madrid

and fly home tomorrow.

Come on, Tom.

This whole thing was stupid.

Bloody thieving Gypsies!

I understand your anger, senor.

My name is Ishmael Villalobos.

My son stole your property.

He wishes to return it and apologise.

It is as you left it.

Everything is there.

Everything.

My son has dishonoured himself,

his family,

and yours as well.

This is the problem with how Europeans

see the Gypsy people.

As thieves and beggars!

Not a proud community.

Well, your son is not

helping your cause.

A very dark day for me.

I wish to extend an invitation to you

and your friends

to be my guests at my home this evening.

I insist.

It will be an intimate gathering.

You will not be disappointed by the food

or the company.

This is what you call

an intimate gathering?

By Gitano standards.

A Gypsy wedding will sometimes

have 2,000 guests.

All close personal friends?

Actually, yes.

Of course, you are taking your son's

remains to Muxia.

No. To Santiago de Compostela.

You go to the Cathedral in Santiago

for the pilgrim's Mass and the blessing.

You must continue across Galicia

to the sea.

There is a shrine in Muxia.

La Virgen de la Barca.

Go there.

Place the remains of your son

in the water.

It is for him and for you.

Ishmael, I'm not a very religious man.

Religion has nothing to do with this.

Nothing at all.

Ishmael, please.

I can take it from him now.

He will carry it

to the very edge of town.

Not one step less.

That is his punishment.

For now.

But he couldn't have known

what was in the bag.

Don't you think you should

cut him some slack?

And what if it were your son?

Stealing is bad enough, and wrong.

But what my son did

could have brought more than shame

to our community.

Oh, yes. You mean like a curse?

Please.

The simple mention of it.

Give me that.

Our children,

they are the very best

and the very worst of us.

Ishmael.

Adis. Ygracias.

Buen Camino.

No, no self-respecting pilgrim on

the Camino would ever stay in a parador.

The decadence of it

is absolutely appalling.

My treat.

Really?

For all of us?

- Hola. If you could just put it here.

- Hola.

Uh, yes, um,

I need to have some laundry picked up.

Some clothing needs to be washed.

Such a crisp morning air, which just

heightens my sense of acute loneliness.

There is traffic on the Camino today,

pilgrims queuing up to bear witness

to the anxious state of a writer

who's forgotten how to...

A writer who has

lost his way.

The child, a youth,

not yet a man, no longer a child,

could not have known

that of all the bags at his disposal,

the one he artfully made his own

contained the most precious

cargo of all:

The remains of Tom's only son, Daniel.

We all have a quest.

Sarah's is clear.

Tom's is becoming clear, but Joost,

for whom kindness is an instinct,

is further away than ever.

Joost...

Armies march to war.

Pilgrims march towards

a new kind of peace.

Is that its purpose?

Hi.

Hi.

You gonna invite me in?

Sure.

I couldn't sleep.

Me neither.

Where's Joost when you need him, eh?

Make yourself comfortable.

Didn't know you were expecting company.

I'm not.

Hi. Could you direct me

to the nearest albergue?

Oh. I seem to have

interrupted something.

Please, come in.

Speak of the devil.

Et voil!

I've brought some liqueur de Orujo.

It's from Galicia,

and it's made of 18 different herbs.

And they're so secret that they

have to be squeezed by blind monks.

- Ugh!

- Thank you.

God save the Queen

and her fascist regime.

Is there any room at the inn?

You're kidding me.

Oh, hello.

Oh, lovely.

This is so similar to my room.

Hmm!

- Voil.

- Thank you.

You're welcome.

Buen Camino!

Buen Camino!

"Dear Lord,

"may this stone,

"a symbol of my efforts

on the pilgrimage...

"A symbol of my efforts..."

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