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A New Camino Family; Day 24 on the Camino, Grandas de Salime to Padron

July 15, 2015

I have a new Camino theory, though maybe it only applies to me, on this particular Camino: every other day is a good walking day. It’s been the pattern, lately: I have one really strong day, then one day when the walking is tough. Then a strong day, then a tough day.

Today’s walking wasn’t the easiest. It wasn’t a difficult stage, but I think that after yesterday’s marathon, my body needed more of a rest. Plus the weather was hot and muggy and there was no nice breeze (as there so often has been here), so I pulled myself through the kilometers and looked forward to my destination, Padron.

I walked with Moritz for the last hour or so, and it helped pass the time. Moritz is young, maybe only 18 or 19, but I admire him. He’s polite and smart and friendly and can carry a conversation with just about anyone. If I ever have kids and have a son, I wouldn’t mind if he turned out like Moritz. We talked about American football and how difficult it is to get a driver’s license in Germany, and of course we talked about the Camino. Those last kilometers flew by, and I was happy for the company.

When we arrived at the albergue, Guillemette and Nicolas were already there, sitting outside. Moritz and I looked at Nicolas and he just smiled back at us. “I’m not going to Cadavo today,” he said. Nicolas had planned to walk another really long day to catch up to his friend, but had lingered through the day with us, instead. And maybe this albergue was just a bit too good to pass up: not crowded yet, a big open yard, a view of the distant mountains, a vending machine that sells beer and a snack machine that sells sardines and tuna. And us, his new friends.

So my new Camino family was going to have another night together. I smiled at Nicolas and then turned to go into the albergue when I saw Christine. She was standing on the stoop and we looked at each other and for a moment neither of us moved or said a thing. It was Christine! I hadn’t seen her since Guemes, which was nearly two weeks ago. She and Annalissa had started walking slightly longer days and the last I’d heard, Christine was thinking about walking the Primitivo, but I didn’t know for sure which path she’d chosen.

But now here she was, and it was that old Camino magic, back again: I hadn’t known if I would see Christine again, but I’d been hoping I would. I’ve lost so many others along the way, but Christine was someone I would have really regretted not seeing again. We gave each other a huge hug and started talking, exclaiming about how we were both here, how it had happened, where we’d each been. My French had gotten a bit rusty but nevertheless I heard Nicolas in the background, saying, “Wait, she can speak French??”

The night was perfect. I’ve had some great Camino nights in these past two years, and this one was up there with the very best of them. Nicolas, Guillemette, Christine, Jordan (another French guy we’d met that day) and I walked 1km back to the previous town to find a bar to have a drink. We stayed there for a few hours, drinking wine and picking at the pinxos delivered to our table. The conversation was entirely in French so I mostly just listened, but I preferred it that way. I marveled at the combination of people the Camino continues to bring together: old friends and new friends and everyone fits together so effortlessly sometimes, like we’ve known each other forever.

It was Sunday and we’d planned poorly. Shops were closed and we hadn’t been able to buy any food during the day, and had arrived in Grandas too late the day before to find an open store. Our food supplies were low, and our dinner was looking pretty meager: a couple packets of pasta and a few cans of tuna for 6 of us (well, for me that’s a solid meal, but the others weren’t as pleased). Nicolas had the brilliant idea of asking the barman if it would be possible for them to make us a big salad. It seemed impossible that it would work, but it did. We left the bar with a bag full of wine and beer, and another bag with a large, large container of salad.

Back at the albergue we pulled the table over to the lawn, positioned in the fading sunlight. We set out plates and poured glasses of wine and toasted being together. It was a beautiful meal and afterwards the guys played frisbee, neighborhood dogs ran through the yard.

Guillemette, Nicolas, Moritz and I had our own room- two bunk beds in a square room with a window that looked out to the mountains. Nicolas said how it was like a little home, and as we went to sleep, Moritz said, “It was really great being with you guys these last two days.”

And it was. If the day before- the long and crazy walk with new friends- was just what I needed, this day was even MORE of what I needed: to feel like I was part of a Camino family again. I had it briefly in the beginning of my Camino with Iria and Amy and Richard and Misako, but I felt it even more strongly this time: this was my group.

We’re close to Santiago now and we all have different plans for the next few days, so as it always goes here: this won’t last. But I fell asleep with a feeling of deep, deep content: this is a great way to be spending my time at the end of my Camino.

Next Post: Day 25 on the Norte/Primitivo

Now I Know Better: Packing Tips for a Camino

December 17, 2014

When I was planning for my Camino I couldn’t get enough of reading other people’s packing lists (in fact, I still love looking at packing lists!). But in those pre-Camino days, reading about what other people had brought along on their pilgrimage had a purpose: it helped me figure out my own list.

I was pretty clueless about a lot when I began preparing for the Camino. I think the only things I brought along on my Camino that I already owned were a spork, a Nalgene water bottle, and a case for the camera I borrowed. I needed to buy everything else.

I’ve been wanting to put together a list of the things I packed for my Camino, and I’ve finally gotten around to it. Maybe it’s been on my mind because I’m currently making a packing list for my next trip (much smaller but coming up after Christmas, stay tuned!). But as I think back to those days last spring as I made list after list of all the things I needed for my Camino, I remember how overwhelmed I felt. I couldn’t just run out and buy things, I felt like I needed to research every item. And maybe I didn’t need to read as much as I did about high-tech, quick-drying underwear (which, in the end, I never bought), but I did need to learn a thing or two about the kind of gear I needed for this walk. And finding packing lists from other pilgrims helped me a great deal.

If you click here, you’ll be directed to a page with my packing list. For those of you with no interest in reading about what I took with me to Spain, maybe you’ll want to read on here, instead, as I talk about the things that I wish I had brought, and the things that I wish I had left behind.

Now I Know Better: The Things I Would Bring on my Next Camino

#1. Shampoo.

This definitely makes the top of the list. I packed for Spain intending to keep the weight I carried as low as possible, so that meant taking along a bar of soap for washing my clothes, my body, and my hair. An all-in-one. But after a few days of using the soap, my scalp felt so unclean and uncomfortable, and I couldn’t stop talking about how much I wished I had brought a small bottle of shampoo. A charming New Zealand boy overheard me and five minutes later delivered some shampoo to my albergue bed. After that I found a tiny bottle in a supermercado, and later, in Leon, received some (along with conditioner!) in a care package from my best friend. For my next Camino, I will definitely bring shampoo.

#2. Something to wear (other than hiking clothes) in the evening and to bed.

In the end, I picked up a cotton t-shirt and a light-weight pair of ‘lounge’ pants as I walked the Camino: the t-shirt in Burgos, because I wanted a comfortable shirt to sleep in, and the pants because I left a pair of shorts in Hontonas. Again, because I’d wanted to keep my packing light, I brought two walking outfits with me (sleep in one at night and wear it the following day, then wash it and put on the other). But it was uncomfortable to sleep in my walking clothes and I wish I had brought a non-walking outfit to wear. Right now the lounge pants I bought are hiding in the back of a drawer, but for my next Camino, I will dig them out.

My pants match the couch!

#3. Clothespins (and a few extra diaper pins)

I brought along 6 diaper pins, to hang my laundry after washing. They were more useful for hanging still wet clothing off of my pack as I walked, and since I lost a couple along the way, several more would have been useful. I tried to use them to hang my clothing from laundry lines at the albergues, but the clothes would usually slide and bunch up if the line wasn’t straight. Some clothespins would have been nice. Next time.

#4. (Maybe) A nice camera.

I have no regrets about using my iPhone for the majority of the photos I took on the Camino (I also had a small digital camera which I used occasionally). But every time I saw another pilgrim with a larger DSLR camera, I felt a pang of jealousy. Yes, a bigger camera would mean extra weight, and it was smart to keep the weight in my pack down. But for my next Camino, I might just pack a big camera.

I’m sure there were a few other, small things I wished I’d had as I walked, but these are the only things that stand out. I didn’t need much for the walk, and I was happy with most of the things I had. That being said…

Now I Know Better: Things I Wish I’d Left Behind

#1. The Icelandair pillow

This one makes me smile. When I boarded my flight from Iceland to Paris (after being delayed in Iceland for nearly 24-hours), I walked behind Luke, who I’d befriended during the delay. We’d talked all about our upcoming travels: me and the Camino, him and his trip around the world. As we sat in the airport lounge, he said to me, “You know what I don’t have? A pillow. I might wish that I had one.” “Yeah,” I replied. “I don’t have one either.”

I’d heard that some albergues along the Camino didn’t provide pillows, and I was a little unsure of how comfortable it would be to sleep without one. I figured I could just roll up my fleece and sleep on that if I needed to.

So as Luke and I boarded the plane and walked to our seats, I saw him dart his eyes around the cabin and then quickly reach up into an overhead compartment. He turned around to hand me something, and it was a small pillow. He had one for himself, too.

I carried that little pillow with me the entire way across Spain. Each evening I unpacked it from my bag but I never used it: every single albergue had a pillow on the bed. But each morning I repacked it. For some reason, long after I realized that I wouldn’t need it, I just couldn’t get rid of the Icelandair pillow.

Still, for my next Camino, I would know not to bring my own pillow.

#2. A tank top

This was a last minute item thrown into my pack. I worried that I wouldn’t have enough clothing to wear, that I would be too hot while walking on summer afternoons. I only wore the tank top a few times, and never to walk (a few times to sleep in, once when I was washing the rest of my clothes in a machine). Next time I’d skip the tank top and just bring a comfortable t-shirt.

#3. Buff

Some of my friends teased me for bringing a buff on my walk. They accused me of wanting to pretend that I was on Survivor. But I had read all about their usefulness, so I bought one. I used it a few times, to keep the sun off the back of my neck on the hottest days. And maybe it was because I walked during a mild summer, but I just didn’t feel the need to use it that much. Next time, it might stay at home.

And one final bonus item, something I almost brought along, and am glad that I didn’t:

My white fleece.

I wrote all about it here. I think it would have been a sight to see when I arrived in Santiago, because the fleece I did bring, a black one, was worn nearly every single day. I almost always started in my fleece in the mornings, and almost always ended my day in it as well. That fleece was often crammed into my bag, dropped on the ground, covered in crumbs. I can’t imagine what a white one would have looked like after 500 miles. Black was the way to go.

The fleece in Santiago: still looking brand new

A Perfect Camino Day; Day 25, Herrerias to Fillobal

July 22, 2014

Once again I’m not sure exactly where I am. Somewhere in Galicia now, about 4km before Triacastela. Not having a guidebook, a friend or group to always walk with, or any set plans can be a wonderful thing: I usually start my day with a general idea of where I might end up (I have an outline of stages that Mirra tore out of her guidebook to give me before she left, and sometimes I ask to look at guidebooks that others carry, to give me an idea of what the next few days will be like). But the beauty of not having a set plan is that I can go wherever I want, whenever I want. I wanted to do a few short days, and thought I would stop in a town about 3km back, but when I passed the albergue I saw a group of about 40 teenagers talking and laughing in the courtyard, and I didn’t even break my stride; I walked right past and decided to head to Triacastela, where most of my friends are.

But I’m here instead, in a small village, sitting at a table outside the bar, in a little grassy area with chickens running around and a dog sleeping under a chair, a small apple tree to my right and a mountain view directly ahead. When I saw this space I doubled back to the albergue and checked-in. I’ll catch up to my friends eventually, maybe even tomorrow. For now, like I did a few days ago, I’m craving peace and quiet.

The last few days have been great, but as ever, my Camino experience continues to change and evolve. This time is very different from the beginning. It’s different from the Meseta, it’s different from the last time I wrote.

I am constantly thinking about the balance between time that I need for myself, and time that I want and need to spend with others. Three days ago I was feeling a bit down, and just a bit lonely. I’d chosen to go off on my own and separate myself from most of the people that I knew, and I think that experience was good for me, despite feeling lonely.

But all at once, things changed (and this is one of the greatest things about the Camino). I’d written my last blog post when I was in Rabanal, where I thought I didn’t know a soul. I went to hear the monks sing a vespers service in the village’s small church, and when I came out of the church I felt relaxed and settled. As I walked into my albergue I saw a group of people eating at a picnic table, and a girl looked over to me. It was Saskia, an American who I’d met at some point during my first week here, and continued to see every 3-4 days throughout the walk. The people she was with offered me the leftovers of their pasta dinner, and then I made some lentils and opened the small bottle of wine I’d found in the supermercado (along with the wine, I’d found earbuds for 2 euro, which was perfect since I’d lost mine a few days before. The small shop in Rabanal came through in a big way!).

So I had a simple, delicious dinner that night, and a good, long heart to heart with Saskia.

And I felt revived heading into the next day. More calm and settled about the time I spend alone, but also more aware of the time when I want to be with others.

I have so much to share about every day here, that when I don’t write for several days I have no idea where to start. I could write a thousand words about Cruz de Ferro and leaving my two rocks; I could write a thousand words about the new people I’ve met and the conversations I’ve had with them; I could write a thousand words about the Dragonte route and its beauty and challenges.

Maybe at some point I’ll catch up and share more stories. But for now, I want to share my nearly perfect Camino morning, and what was overall a really great Camino day.

I woke up this morning at 5:45, after a solid 8 hours of sleep. This has never, ever happened on my Camino, and poor sleeping has left me pretty exhausted. But last night was wonderful, I was in a small, quiet albergue, on a bottom bunk with no one above me and no snorers in the room.

I packed my things and left while everyone else continued to sleep, and as I made my way out of the village I ran into John, a Scottish man in his 60’s. I’d met him a few days before, and we spoke for a minute about the 8km climb we had ahead of us, and then I moved on ahead (later, I saw Joe and Adele, who told me they’d run into John later in the day, and he called me a ‘greyhound’ because of how fast I started climbing up the mountain. I certainly wouldn’t call myself a greyhound, but I DO walk fast, and probably faster after a good night’s sleep).

I climbed 4km and after yesterday’s extremely challenging climb (along with 6 other pilgrims took an alternate route called Dragonte which involved three mountains; we were the only 7 pilgrims on the route that day), I was able to climb fairly easily. Just as I was really tiring, I reached a town and, like a mirage, I saw an open bar (at 7:20am!). So I sat and enjoyed a cafe con leche and a croissant, and then climbed the next 4km to O’Cebreiro and I felt like I was flying.

It helps that I wasn’t carrying any food in my pack. Often I have at least one can of tuna (and at some point on this Camino I was walking around for 4 days with three cans of tuna fish), but I usually have more. The other day I was noticing how heavy my pack felt, and I mentally scrolled through what I had shoved into my bag that morning: half a baguette, a big chunk of cheese, a hard boiled egg, two peaches, an apple, a bunch of cherries, a tomato, two cans of tuna, and a bag of candy. Way too much, and I’m amazed I could fit it all into my pack. But at this point on my Camino, walking for over three weeks, I can handle carrying a lot.

But this morning I felt light, and it was probably because I didn’t have an extra 5 pounds of food in my bag. On the way to O’Cebreiro I passed a small town where I saw the Italian group outside having breakfast. They cheered when they saw me and Carol stood up to give me a hug. Laura, the 12 year old, asked where I was staying that night, and said she hoped it was the same town where she would be.

I continued my walk, meeting a man from Chile who was walking very slowly, but smiling constantly. I made it to O’Cebreiro, stopped for another cafe con leche and tortilla, then ran into Ibai on my way out of town. We accidentally walked a kilometer or two on the main road, realized we went the wrong way, then doubled back to find the natural track.

Today’s walk was breathtaking. I crossed into Galicia, and I’ve heard that this is the nicest part of the Camino, and from today, I can believe it. The weather was beautiful, there were near constant mountain and valley views, there were cows and chickens and horses and dogs everywhere. Quaint villages, so much green, and as the day progressed I had a lot of time to walk alone.

But I also met several new people today and had some great conversations, and it reminds me of how incredible this experience is. Geraldine and David have been walking since St Jean but today was the first day I encountered them; Anti started her Camino today and I met her minutes into her walk.

I walked with and passed by friends I’ve gotten to know over the last several weeks, I’ve had moments of connections with people I’d only just met, and I had time to myself to enjoy the beauty of where I am and how magical this experience has been.

And now I’m in this tiny town with a cold drink and the sun slowly setting into the mountains. I’ll have dinner soon with some new friends, and tomorrow I’ll wake up and walk… somewhere. About 6 days until I reach Santiago, and I’m trying to soak up as much of this experience as I can.

Next Post: Day 28 on the Camino Frances

Iceland Detour

June 25, 2014

I’m sitting at a wooden table in a cafe in Reykjavik, sipping a cappuccino. It’s 4pm, but here it could be 4am; the sky looks exactly like it did when we made the middle of the night ride from the airport to the hotel. They aren’t kidding when they call this the land of the midnight sun: I don’t think the sky was dark for one moment last night.

I’m not supposed to be in Iceland, not this long, and not yet. My 17-hour layover in Reykjavik was supposed to happen at the end of my trip, in the middle of August, and not right now, at the very beginning. This Iceland layover was only suppose to be 1 hour.

I worried about how I would get down to St Jean Pied de Port- my starting point for the Camino- after hearing about all the French rail and air strikes. My family joked that I might be stranded in Paris, or Iceland, and I joked back: “That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world!”

And so far, it’s not. My flight out of JFK was delayed about 4 hours, not because of the French strikes, but because the Icelandair system was down. When I got to the airport, I sailed passed the long line of people waiting at Icelandair, and breezed through security. Not having to check a bag made things so easy. I marveled at how fast I made it to my gate: less than 10 minutes after being dropped off at the airport by my dad. Incredible!

But I knew something was wrong when, after another hour, there were only a few people waiting at the gate. One was a woman named Julie, and after talking for a few minutes, we discovered that we were each walking the Camino, and that we each planned to begin on the 26th from SJPP. Instantly I could understand what everyone means when they talk about the Camino spirit. It was like I already had a friend: someone to look out for me, and someone I could look out for.

After awhile, we found out that our flight was being checked-in manually and that we’d have to go back to the line, go through check-in, go through security. All over again.

I made some friends with the people I was waiting with in line. We’d walked down together and joked about how backwards this whole process was. We were the very last in line, and I was the final passenger to be checked in for our flight. We were hours behind schedule and the workers at Icelandair cheered when they realized I was the last one. The man helping me said, “This has been a nightmare, but you know, so much of the personal interaction has been lost by using computer systems. It’s been nice to actually talk to people.”

And in some ways, I have to agree. This has been a hassle, but it’s also been nice. Our flight was delayed again on the runway, we were four hours behind schedule, our connecting flight to Paris was long gone by the time we reached Iceland, once we were bussed to the hotel there was only enough time for a few hours sleep. I was put on an afternoon flight to Paris but then changed it to an even later flight because of train schedules; I’ll arrive in Paris about 24 hours later than originally planned.

But. I stood in line and laughed and joked with three young people on my flight: Emily, who is spending the summer in Vienna, doing a law school study abroad program. Luke, who is traveling to the south of France for a cousin’s wedding. Heather, who will be working in a cafe in Paris for the summer.

And I met Julie, my first fellow Pilgrim; she sent me an email while we were on the flight, updating me on our connection and the rescheduled flights. She gave me a hug in the airport as we parted ways (she was put on an earlier flight to Paris, so the next time I see her, if ever, will be somewhere on the Camino).

A smooth flight and making all of my connections would have been great, but something would have also been lost. The camaraderie, the unexpected twists, the adventure.

I’ll make it down to the Camino, and really, it doesn’t matter when. I have a lot of time to walk. For now, I get to finish my coffee (good! strong! Is Iceland known for having decent coffee? I’ll have to look into this more on my way back), and I get to soak up this beautiful Icelandic landscape and roam around Reykjavik for a few more hours. For now, the Camino can wait.