Joining my family from Nicaragua

Hello family and friends!!! I feal like I am joining a large dinner table of good conversation.
I have been in Nicaragua for about five days now, and what an experience. I have been in Granada, and it is enough for me to realize that I don't what to do this again. If I travel, I want to really meet the people and encounter the country. I have only scratched the surface, and very uncomfortably at that.
I wanted to share a bit about my pilgrimage to Cartago about a week ago. Once a year on the feast of the Virgin of San Angeles, the patron of Costa Rica, over a million people flock to a church in Cartago to catch a glimpse and receive blessings from a statue of the patron said to have miraculous powers.
Many people walk at least a day, some a few, to Cartago. There was a group leaving from Mastatal, a 22 hour walk to Cartago. I decided to walk alone from Puriscal a 15 hour walk. I was incredibly excited. What an adventure I thought, a challenge. 15 hours doesn't seem that bad before you start. So I packed up some cliff bars and a bottle of water. I asked some locals where to start, and headed off for my journey. I wasnt only seeking an adventure, but sought to grow closer to God through it all. Through suffering or just an extensive prayer time or solitude, I didnt quite know what to expect from it all. I walked through towns scattered hear and there, and along lonely stretched of road. The whole time walking to the side of the road opposing traffic, one straight shot to San Jose. As I walked I passed by people waiting for the bus. I knew they knew I was going to Cartago, but a gringa? Alone? I was a strange sight to see. I expected to follow groups that were heading that way as well, but only at the beginning I saw a couple ahead of me, like a star reassuring me I was on the right path. Until about two hours in they disappeared. I was alone. This is what I wanted right? Then why did it feel so strange. I have never before been so aware of how alone I was. Keep it up I thought, I have just begun. I began to say a rosary. First for me, then one for each member of the family. This was a surprising source of strength throughout the walk. When I started to feel down or began to notice the creeping pain in my feet and thighs I would begin to sing on of the decades, look out at the rolling mountains or many times a honk of -you go girl- would float my way. Que valiente, one taxi driver yelled out the window. That carried me for a good half hour. Several times people stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride, no I said shaking my head with a smile. In the last stretch of the walk I thought back to those offers with longing. "Two hours to the city," a couple assured me. One hour later another assured me it was only two hours more. Ok, I can still do this, almost there. Im not sure if this is where it became really tough because I knew it was almost finished, or because the pain in my legs after seven hours of walking was beginning to become more and more intense, or if it was because the rolling hills became a highway bustling with rush hour traffic, or maybe because I had to pee so bad that I could not rest my feet for fear of peeing my pants, or possibly it was the honks of encouragement fading into honks of lust and kisses out the window. I felt like such a spectacle walking along side a highway, alone, a gringa covered in sweat, alone. I had to distract my thoughts of pain and utter exhaustion. I began to say the rosary, but with no intention behind it. And instead of the meditative repetition it was a frenzied rush of words that were mechanical. Suddenly I came to a bridge. Looking down I saw a huge drop of a waterfall leading into a rush of water. What beauty in the mist of ugliness I thought peering over the edge only knee high. The wind of a passing semi snapped me forcefully back to the reality that as fatigued as I was, I felt like any stronger a wind would carry me over the edge crashing to the rocks below. Truly frightened I kept my eyes steady and walked slowly ahead. Slowly I came upon the edge of the city and soon the city itself. People! I felt like a wearied traveler encountering an oasis. Oh man these people do not know how happy I am to see them, for all they know I am just another tourist, only slightly more dirty and dishevelled looking. All I wanted to do was find the girls I was meeting up with in San Jose. I wanted a hug, a friendly face so bad. But to my dismay they were not there. I bought a cigg and an apple and sat out in the central square of San Jose. Suddenly I was crying. I felt like I had just come from another world. Sitting in the middle of bustling people, the night just beginning I felt numb to my surroundings. The rest of the night I felt this way. I am still trying to process it. The next half of the walk the next day was intense but I had a friend walking with me this time, and it was a completely different experience. I am still trying to process why I felt the way I did during my walk alone. Truly one of the most challenging things I have done, but so incredibly beautiful, in a way that I really can begin to describe.