I Went Walking One Day

I Went Walking One Day

"There comes a longing never to travel again except on foot." -Wendell Berry

This morning, I didn't wake up at 5:30 to the sound of people pulling on hiking boots and crumpling plastic bags. I didn't wake up with the thought, "okay body, if you promise to function today, I'll feed you Spanish chocolate." I didn't wake up wondering what God would reveal in the silence, what kinds of adorable little villages I would pass through, what incredible people I would meet. 

I woke up in a fluffy white bed with clean white walls at 8:30, knowing that the only place I really had to walk today was around town and life has regained some "normalcy". 

And the realization made me cry. 

To try to put the Camino into words is to defeat the purpose of the Camino. I can say the obvious- I walked 311 kilometers (and have a certificate now to prove it!) across northern Spain, León to Santiago. A typical day would look something like this:

1. Wake up at 5:30

2. Eat a yogurt

3. Walk 10k

4. Drink a Coa-Cao

5. Walk 10k

6. Eat a bocadillo

7. Walk 10k

8. Arrive at the next town, find an alburgue with five free beds (not the easiest of tasks), do laundry, find dinner, figure out where you are walking tomorrow, and go to sleep around 9. 

But see, that's just it. Nothing in that description would make anyone say, "Wow, Emily, that really sounds life-changing. I totally understand why you want to come back and do all 800k of the Camino". 

The Camino is not defined by the walking. True, there is a lot of walking. 4-8 hours a day of willing your feet to move one after the other- across hot plains, over mountains, through forests. But the walking is just a vehicle for what the Camino really is. 

The Camino atmosphere is unlike anything else you will experience in your life. Old people, young people, wealthy, poor, conservative and liberal, from every country you can imagine with every life circumstance under the sun come together and everyone is treated as equals. We live together, we walk together. We cook, cry, sleep in double beds together when albergues are full. We bandage each other's feet, fall in love (ask me about Intimate Couple), make best friends, climb mountains, and sing together. We pass someone on the path, extend a hello, and six hours later not only have a new best friend, but a conversation that produced thoughts and insights that we will be thinking about our entire life. 

I want to tell you about some members of my Camino family. I know it's a lot of words, so I've included some pictures.

1. Italy (Kristina)

Loads of people here have trail names, usually their home country or nationality. I met Italy Day 1, as her husband laughed at us rolling around in the grass, probably thinking, "oh just wait girls, in two days you wouldn't be able to climb stairs". There are 80 villages we pass through on our stretch of the Camino, and I must have seen Italy in at least 40 of them. Every time she would scream "Eh-mee-lee!" and wave her arms until I went and gave her a hug. I now have her phone number for when I visit her in Milano. Nowhere but the Camino would it be normal to have a first name of someone and their phone number and have it be completely acceptable to go stay at their home halfway across the world. 

2. My Camino Parents (Kris and Barry)

I met my parents Day 2, when I got separated from my team (as became the trend- I'm a lot more independent than I realized- that'll be another blog post). We talked for a long time, and they helped me find my meeting place. They totally adopted me, and I saw them every day after that, loving the warm hugs Kris would give me and the "how's your ankle, sweetheart?" I'm going to miss this woman so much. 

3. Swiss (David)

What may have been the best day of my life, I happened to spend with Swiss. We had met in the previous albergue when four of our team were all cuddling in one bed. He acted like it was the strangest thing in the world and we struck up a friendship. I think he was a little relieved when just me and not the rest of my cuddly group headed out at 6, and we dived headfirst into deep conversation. It was the best day of my life because I felt at the height of my independence, and with malfunctioning ankles I literally climbed 3 hours up a mountain and 3 hours down the other side. But the impact of the day was only helped along by Swiss, and our six hour long conversation about Christianity, mostly about Catholicism; it was the most intellectually demanding and stimulating conversation I think I've ever had. And just like that, he was gone. The people here are very fluid, but the conversations last forever.

4. Randall and Pao

These guys were much like Swiss, I only spent about two hours with them, but hearing about their friendship and spending the afternoon with two of the sweetest guys on the face of the earth was such a blessing. From Texas with a thick accent and France with very little English, somehow they've formed a friendship that has resulted in them being together 24/7 for the past 20 days. I can't even fathom the goodbye those two had. 

5. Alex

We love Alex from Canada. As Ari would say, we are low-key obsessed with Alex. We also met Alex Day 1, and stuck together every day after that- usually even staying in the same albergue. He was there when we tried pulpo (octopus), when we stayed in the strange albergue with fairies and creepy elves on the walls, and waited next to the path to see us ride our horses up the mountain. He quickly became an integral part of our little Camino family. One moment in particular- I was so frustrated by malfunctioning credit cards, mismatched bus schedules and hotels that were too expensive, and I felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. He came over and sat next to me. "Sorry Alex, I just get frustrated when I feel like I'm juggling this all alone." "Why do you think I came over here?" he simply said. Gem. Absolute gem.

6. Santa Barbara (Franee and Angela)

The description of Alex is short because the "fam" also includes these two high schoolers from California. We met Franee and Ang four days in, and they tagged along with us, and it wasn't long before the eight of us all became a family. Now we do everything together- we cook (mostly pasta), we walk, we venture around towns together. It's a really beautiful thing to go from making reservations for 5 to reservations for 8. 

And those are just a few of the faces. There are dozens of others I met who will have a lasting impact on my life. Last night, we gathered around cafe tables in the square outside of the Cathedral for one last hurrah. The Cathedral was our final destination, Kilometer 0 on this massive journey. And it was both a rush and a sigh of relief to see it after anticipating the moment for two weeks. But what gave me closure was seeing my new family sitting around tables, laughing and sharing stories one last time, knowing and yet avoiding the fact that we were headed back to the real world. 

It's a bittersweet time. The journey is over, yet I feel like it has just begun. The Camino bubble has popped, but there is a Camino mentality that I will try to carry over to the rest of my life. You do not need more than you are given, trust that there is purpose in every day, and everyone you meet is worthy of time and love, because everyone has a story. 

For now, I will be sad often. As strange as it sounds, I will cry when I don't pull on the same two outfits day after day. My feet feel antsy as I haven't already clocked 15k by this time in the morning. But like any beautiful event, the memories will only continue to sweeten. I pray that I look at life differently, and because of that, please don't hesitate to ask me about my experience. I will tell you as much as I can. Well, as much as you care to hear about, since obviously I could go on for hours. But don't expect an answer to "So, did you have fun on the Camino?" It's pretty hard to give an answer when you have experienced the most life-changing two weeks of your life. 

The Camino is not fun. The Camino is tears and silences that are too loud and ankles in so much pain they hurt when you swim. It's doctors visits to sketchy hospitals and humidity that makes the flies that cloud around your head stick to your neck. It's washing clothes in basins and smelling worse that you've ever smelt...and not caring. It's waking up before the sun rises and walking until you can't walk anymore then sitting down for a coffee until you force yourself to walk more. It's balancing time apart with constant wifi access and "Okay friends back home, I'm still alive" as news stories circle about the woman who went missing on the trail and various harassment of pilgrims. 

No, it's not fun.

But that's not really the adjective used to describe life. And when an experience makes you dig down to the core of your being and say, "Okay, God, let's figure out what you've got going on in here", there simply are no words that could ever properly describe it.

I'm excited to see you all. I'm excited to see how my Camino plays out in the next five weeks here serving other pilgrims, and especially how it affects my life back home. But right now I think it's time to put on a dress, use a washing machine, and figure out what in the world just happened these past two weeks.

Warm

I quickly typed out some word vomit into my phone, praying that it didn’t turn to actually losing my food as we bounced down the highway toward Madrid. We were sitting in the back of a crowded bus, so excited to escape the 95degree weather, and instead found ourselves in the seats above the engine, blasting hot air directly upward for six hours. Needless to say, that is the first and last time we will ever take a bus.

But a lot of good reflection happened on that bus ride. The spray of words I was finally able to get into writing turned themselves into a spoken word piece I decided to call Warm. Now, I won’t type it out here, there’s a reason they’re called spoken word, but I can tell you about the general sentiment behind it.

But first, a quick recap, for your sake of context, and my sake of reminiscing.
Seven cities in two weeks can be hard to keep track of:

1.    Amsterdam: So much jetlag and culture shock. But somewhere in between, we walked the streets of this beautiful, broken city and it was a blast to spend a few days abroad with all 19 of us before we split off.

2.    Brugge: I’m tempted to say my favorite city thus far, but Sevilla was a close contender. This sleepy city stole my heart when we walked around late at night- the streets deserted, lights and lampposts everywhere, laughing with new friends and walking over canals and past quintessential European buildings…I felt like I was in a movie.

3.    Paris: Not at all what I expected. I was not a huge fan of Paris- loud, crowded, expensive. But more than that, I was frustrated after meeting so many people in Brugge; our hostel was on the
outskirts of everything so people headed into the city early and stayed there all day, so it was really tough to meet people. The Lord really worked to teach me patience, as well as strengthened our team during that time. Good preparation as we headed to…

4.    Barcelona: Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. We unknowingly were there not only during a music festival, Primavera Sound, but also the Copa Final, which took place two streets down from our hostel. Such a great introduction to Spain.

5.    Valencia: The southern Brugge, I might say. Everything about this city was stunning- I don’t think you can really top moonlit castles framed by palm trees.

6.    Sevilla: We’ve all liked different cities, but it’s pretty safe to say our favorite city collectively is Sevilla. We met so many cool people and had so many deep conversations. Plus our hostel was sick- “family dinner” was served on a rooftop with a view of the cathedral. Increíble.

7.    Madrid: Perhaps takes the hostel cake. Even the staff have become friends- last night, I had a jam session with the receptionist, and made dinner with the cook. Every night is free dinner and
we’ve become a little family.

And there I was last night, in the kitchen, talking to my new friend Christo (“It’s like the Spanish Christ, I dunno why they call me but I like it you know?”) as I grated cheese. Between
our mixed language conversation, I listened to the hum of the hostel around me.
People from all over the world becoming friends. 

More travelers checking in,
getting the run down of the city. 

Laughter and backpacks dropping to the floor and the general hum of excitement.

 I kind of lost myself in the moment, and realized that for the first time in a long time, potentially years, I felt completely at ease. I prayed that I would feel comfortable in the traveling community, but I had no idea God would use it to fill me with so much peace, with a sense of comfort I rarely feel.

By all accounts, it makes no sense. I’ll be the first to say that I am a
distrusting, skittish, generally scared and uptight person.

But somewhere between Brugge and Barcelona, something changed. I began to see something beautiful in transience, an opportunity in forming fast and often brief relationships that would not
have sounded appealing back home. The traveling community is indescribable.

When you learn so much about a person’s life and then an hour into the conversation stop and say, “Wait, I never caught your name”, that’s a really cool thing.


So standing in the kitchen in Madrid, my heart just felt warm. There’s no other way to explain it. I had found a home in the wandering, and felt like one of these people, these disorganized, adventurous souls who not long ago, would have so intimidated me.

Maybe the feeling also had something to do with the fact that Spain is flippin hot. Lord have mercy, I have never been in a place where I step outside and literally feel like my skin is melting off my body. I guess that’s what you get for being 120 miles north of Africa (here’s lookin’ at you, Sevilla).

Now, we’ve made it to Santiago.
All around me are pilgrims. You can pick them out easily- they’re wearing clothes that clearly haven’t been properly washed in at least two weeks, the top of their head is covered by permanent hat hair, and they wander around the city with this glazed, happy, “I did it” look. In three days, we will begin the journey back to this wonderful city. 250 miles in two weeks.

It will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m tempted to say I can’t do it. But never in a million years would I have said I could journey so far away from home, sleeping in a different city and even country every couple of days- and now I’ve got this adventure fever that’s left me yearning to pack my bag and start up again.


So, fellow adventurers- Go. Do. See. Find that thing that sets your heart on fire.
And realize that it’s probably in the most unexpected of places.

Catch you in two weeks!

(Seen in Brugge. Describes Europe in general. The tackiest and the most adorable of pictures).