“Che, Valen's cousin, are you walking with us to Luján?”
I'm Micaela C @mino and never happened to me that: that a kid liked me so much but so much. In addition to fachero and high loin, it is a good chaboncito. Almost perfect. A species in extinction in this world of artificial dedicated full-time facial arts. I took out the card right away: this one is not interested in faces, gestures, poses, smiles and/or emojis. I met him at Valen's birthday: Ramiro, that's his name, is from the pastoral group of the parish where my cousin always goes. And that night that really dazzled me, they were all talking about the pilgrimage to Luján. The group of young people in the community was organizing the trek and Ramiro was one of the coordinators. To this day I remember when she stuck her gaze between tender and seductive and said, “Che, Valen's cousin, are you walking with us to Luján?”First, I reminded her of my name: Mica. And then, I didn't know what excuse to put on him. That I am a believer but not so much, that I don't do much sport and my fitness is not ideal, that that weekend in October maybe I had to study, that... “Let your cousin know if you want to come. We left Morón and not from Liniers, so if you move you'll save yourself a good stretch. We had a barbarian, I came.” The talk on the subject closed in a “Well, I see” .Before I left the party, my cousin told me that it was 46 kilometers from Morón to Luján. That he was leaving type 9 in the morning, that they always went to the Sarmiento tracks and that strategic stops were made in Moreno, in General Rodríguez and at the roundabout where the Coat of Arms of Luján is. That at every stop there was something to eat and to hydrate. In addition to praying the Rosary, a car with music accompanied them all the time and that they were sung, danced, arenged and agitated.Ramiro left a while before me and, when he said goodbye, he asked me again: “Are we waiting for you?” With a smile, I gave him back between dubitativa and canchera a “Start if I don't arrive: there I join you at the last minute...”. What first in my head was “No fart” became “Why not?”I looked it up on Instagram and started following Ramiro. His stories were copadas and every so much went up from the pilgrimage. Two or three days before October 6, he put in a “I'm going... You?” I swear I felt it like a direct message to me.With my cousin everything is fine, but I don't have the super confidence. She didn't insist on me, and I wasn't too interested either. On Thursday night Ramiro started following me on Instagram and even gave me a couple of likes. Ready, I'm going. But I realized that I couldn't walk almost 50 kilometers and I started to put together my own plan. I have a long train journey but not exactly in the Sarmiento: I loved Juan Carlos Google once again hard. As the pastoral group had published the route, stops and estimated times, logistics was not so difficult: I decided to take the Sarmiento, reach them in General Rodriguez and do the 15 kilometers (or a little bit more actually) walking with them. Bah, with him... said and done... Train to Moreno. Combination with the one that goes to Mercedes and leaves you at the General Rodríguez station, before passing through La Reja, Francisco Álvarez, Pablo Marín and Las Malvinas. I studied the tour as if I was going to take a test. And except for the crowded travel between Moreno/General Rodriguez, everything went well. Before 5, I was on the avenue parallel to the tracks and I even found the CNG sign that I had as a reference. I made time out there, I paid the 15 pesos to use the bathroom of a house (that was more or less the “sanitary” rate throughout the pilgrimage) and began to discover the rushes of the pilgrimage world.As on that Saturday walkers parade 24 hours a day, there is a whole universe on the side of the road. It is sold from inflammant atom to improvised canes for those who can no longer support their feet, passing through insoles for footwear quite trout. Three bananas, 30 weights (it is consumed a lot by potassium). Energy drinks type Speed: 25 pesos. While I waited for the group I was interested in, I did not manage to get out of smoke: bondiolite and emptiness were furor, and with very disparate prices between puestito and puestito. Before the doubt was invaded as to whether I was doing the right thing, among the crowd that passed by I distinguished the orange shirts of the group. And in the middle, with a jean beanie, he: my favorite pilgrim. I was crouched on a side, I waited for the whole platoon to pass and followed them a few meters. Justo Valen walked next to Rami: they were singing “Un poquito”, by Carlos Vives and Diego Torres. “It is not fashionable to fall in love/No one wants to be sincere anymore/But in you I find everything, everything, everything I want...”. I joined forces, I persigned and unexpectedly sneaked them into the middle: “I'm Micaela C @mino and that's why a pilgrim...”. Hug and kiss for each one. Triumphal appearance. Sincere smiles. Goal. Point for Mica... I walked to Lujan next to them, closer to him than her. We prayed the Rosary when we had to pray, we did bard to recharge ourselves with energy and I talked about one and a thousand things with Ramiro. I drew him that I had to study at night, that's why I went out later, that when I went alone I walked faster and all the sarasas together. Pious little thing: Mary, the Virgin, was going to know how to understand.As coordinator, Rami was permanently near the cart with lights and music. Every so long he grabbed the microphone and encouraged the rest of the children and the not-so-little ones: among the group of walkers, there was a 70-year-old lady who recontra her to the Basilica. I almost died of love when Rami asked for a round of applause for me, for cheering me up. Came very well the stewed mate Andresito at the Escudo roundabout: at that height of the walk and at that time of the night (22.30), a warm infusion was ideal to fight the cold.Just because of the cold, coupled with the blisters on your feet already make you walk like a zombie, the last kilometers were embraced Ramiro. When I saw the dome of the basilica appear between the buildings, I was so excited that I left to cry like a little crum. I swear, I couldn't stop: it was a cataract of tears that increased when Father Rodrigo said “Luján is not reached with your feet: you reach with your heart.” Ramiro hugged me tightly and gave me a long kiss on the forehead, from those that are given to friends and loved ones. I felt great to be there, contained. I felt bad about the chamuyo I did to him about my invented previous walk. I felt like pilgrimage again next year. When we entered the Basilica with the last effort, I set the time: it was 0.04 on Sunday. I looked at the altar and asked Our Lady not to let go of my hand. And that Ramiro, since he was there, didn't either.