lessons Archives - Nadine Walks

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

As if I know how to answer that question. Yes, indeed, how do you adjust back to regular life after a powerful and altering experience?

I thought it wouldn’t be so hard. Before I left for the Camino, I was reading a lot of blogs from people who had walked, and something I noticed was that many people had trouble readjusting to regular life. I don’t think I’ll have a problem with that, I naively thought. I’m going to be so fired up about my experience that I’ll be able to make the changes I need to make. Or else, I’ll be so drained from all of the travel and movement and stimulation that I’ll want to come back home and just settle in.

I wanted to settle into my regular life for about a week. I cherished the early morning hours of lounging on my couch and nursing a cup of coffee. I loved seeing my friends and my family, I loved being able to cook for myself and eat lots of vegetables.

But then it got old. Fast. And all at once, about a week after I got home from my summer travels, I wanted to be back ‘out’ again. I wanted to be anywhere: on another Camino, traveling through Africa, exploring more of Europe, hunkering down in a small Spanish town and meeting the locals and learning the language. I wanted to hop in my car and take a cross-country road trip through the US, something I’ve dreamed of since I was 16. I wanted to spend a month on the coast of Maine, I wanted to spend a month crashing at my best friend’s place in Virginia.

I wanted to keep experiencing things. I wanted to keep experiencing life.

It’s a little over two months since I’ve returned home and I’m slowly getting used to this regular life, again. The intensity of the Camino has begun to fade a little at the edges, it’s no longer the first thing I think of when I wake up in the mornings. The seasons have changed and I’m accepting that I’m here, and no longer in Spain. When I first came home and strapped on my pack to go on a hike, I was frustrated that I couldn’t summon up my Camino feelings. What am I doing wrong? I thought. I have my pack, I have my shoes, I’m hiking through the woods, why can’t I feel like I did on the Camino?

Because real life isn’t the Camino. It’s taken time, but now when I put on my pack and go on a hike, I enjoy the hours for what they are: a hike through the woods of a nearby park. It’s easier, in some ways, to be more content with where I am; the incredibly restless feeling that I had in August and most of September isn’t so present.

And yet, I can’t just come back to life as if I never walked the Camino. I had that experience, and it affected me. So… now what?

Over and over I think about the words I heard repeated so many times during the last few weeks of my pilgrimage: “Your Camino begins when the walking ends.” And for me, this is, I think, where I’ve finally encountered my biggest challenge. I loved my Camino so much, and as I think I said once before, in some ways it felt like the easiest and most natural thing I’d ever done. I knew, without a doubt, that it was the best decision I could have made for myself this past summer. I was happy and filled and energized. I was pushing myself and getting out of my comfort zone, I was examining the lessons that the Camino was giving me, I was thinking about where I wanted to take my life when I got home.

Here were some of my thoughts- when I was on the Camino- about what post-Camino life would look like:

I’m going to go on dates, all of the time! It won’t be nearly as scary or as awkward as I fear it will be! (How many times on the Camino did I have a coffee or a lunch or a drink or a dinner with a good looking European man? These guys just appeared out of nowhere, and it was such a confidence booster to know that I could socialize in this way. But now that I’m home? Where are all the good looking European men?? Why do I suddenly feel so awkward again??).

I’m going to be active, and do so much more! Join clubs and groups, go out to bars and restaurants, meet new people everyday! (The Camino makes you believe that, like dating, this could be possible and so easy. Because on the Camino, meeting new people everyday is easy. In real life, this takes effort. A lot of effort).

I’m going to write a book! (I knew this with certainty on my third day of walking. I still know this and believe this, but now that I’m here, needing to sit down and actually write, I’m faced with the obvious but very real truth: writing a book is hard, hard work).

So here’s the thing: I know that accomplishing anything- dating and falling in love, making new friends, writing a book- it takes a lot of hard work and dedication. The Camino, if you let it, teaches this to you better than anything: I walked 500 miles across a country this summer. It still feels incredible to write that. Is it true? I really walked 500 miles?

I did. Each day I had to put in the work and the effort. I knew that I couldn’t get it all done in a day, or a week. It required time, and work, and sweat, and tears, and pain. I think that maybe anything worth it in life requires these things. So this is what is filling my mind these days: how to sit down and take the first steps with the next big thing in my life. How to live in the moment and let go of the endless planning and the worry and just take a risk and go for it. How to put in the daily steps even though the ultimate destination is still very, very far away.

I did it on the Camino, and completing the Camino is proof- if I need it- that I can accomplish something big.

So, how do I adjust back to normal life after the Camino? I’m not sure yet. Some days are great and fun and I love my routines and my home and my community; I love watching the falling leaves and grabbing a drink at Starbucks and cooking in my old and quirky kitchen. But some days my mind is filled with what comes next. I feel like I’m back in St Jean Pied de Port, holding my newly purchased walking stick that doesn’t feel comfortable in my hand just yet; standing in the middle of the street in the town and looking out into the distance and wondering if I’m going to be able to complete this journey.

Here’s to first steps: scary and hard, but absolutely worth it.