By: Frances Kowal
BACKGROUND
The Camino de Santiago is a historic walking route that pilgrims complete for religious, personal, or reflective reasons, with all paths leading to Santiago de Compostela.
I set out on the Camino as a personal reporting project, documenting the experience through daily photos and a handwritten journal. Along the way, I asked strangers, fellow pilgrims, and the people who hosted me to write in my journal—in their native language or English—about why they were walking, what happiness meant to them, or what advice they had for someone in their 20s. I was raised Catholic and attended St. James Cathedral as a child, named after the saint whose tomb marks the end of the Camino. I had heard about the route my entire life. My parents talked about walking it one day. I watched videos, read articles, and romanticized the idea. Now, at the end of college, facing graduation and the daunting question of what comes next, the Camino felt like an opportunity to reflect. Here’s what I knew about myself:
- I love traveling.
- I love writing.
- I love long walks.
- I do not love being alone.
Naturally, the next step was to book a flight to Portugal and spend 11 days walking 170 miles across Portugal and Spain by myself.
What I brought:
- My hiking boots (I wore these the entire time, but midway through I bought shower flip-flops and immediately wished I had packed them from the start)
- Three quick-dry athletic shirts
- Three pairs of pants: leggings, hiking pants, and rain-resistant joggers
- A lightweight puffer jacket
- Three pairs of wool socks (non-negotiable)
- Three pairs of undergarments
- One beanie
- A poncho
- Blister pads and a small first-aid kit
- Toiletries (though I regrettably skipped conditioner and my hair suffered accordingly)
- A portable charger
- A reusable water bottle
- A handwritten journal
- Some pilgrims carry sleeping bags. I didn’t. Most albergues provide blankets for rent.
Laundry is surprisingly easy to manage along the Camino. Most albergues and local laundromats have machines available, and many include detergent automatically, so you don’t need to pack any. I’d recommend carrying a few coins, though, since not everywhere takes cards and you’ll likely be doing small loads as you go. To navigate the route, I relied on the Camino Ninja app, which helped track distances, accommodations, and nearby food along the journey.
ARRIVING IN PORTO
I flew into Lisbon and immediately boarded a train north to Porto. The train ride blurred past in a kind of static exhaustion. Eighteen hours of travel, very little sleep, and the strange sensation of knowing something important was about to begin but not feeling it set in quite yet. I wasn’t nervous in a cinematic way. I was jet-lagged, and my brain felt like white noise. The first place I stayed was Albergue de Peregrinos do Porto.
An albergue is a simple, affordable pilgrim hostel that provides basic accommodations for only those walking the Camino de Santiago. This one was a traditional pilgrim hostel with dorm beds, a small common room, and walls covered in relics of past walkers. When I arrived, an older man, the owner of the albergue, handed me a pilgrim passport and gave me my first stamp. There was something ceremonial about this moment. The passport, a small folded booklet, is what pilgrims use to collect stamps along the route, proving they’ve walked at least the final 100 kilometers to receive the Compostela in Santiago. He also asked how I would complete the Camino. “Walking,” I said. He pointed to the other options in the booklet: bicycle and horse. Horse. The idea that someone might arrive in Santiago on horseback entertained me. Meanwhile, I had packed three pairs of pants and ideas of a five-year plan.
PORTO
Accepting the unknown
Downstairs, two men who ran the albergue were talking with a young American woman named Ingrid, who was also beginning the Camino. They poured a glass of wine for us. Ingrid was 19 and from Kalamazoo, Michigan. She was studying abroad in Cáceres, Spain, and was on winter break. The Camino felt like an obvious way to spend the break, she explained. Ingrid had already completed a 70-kilometer stretch of the Vía de la Plata with a friend, one of the longer pilgrimage routes through Spain. She said she had learned a lot from that experience and loved hiking and being outdoors. When I first explained my project to Ingrid, that I was asking pilgrims to write in my journal, her original advice was not philosophical. She told me to pack extra toilet paper. She shared a story from a previous albergue where a fellow pilgrim had used the last of the communal toilet paper as a towel, leaving none behind for her. Later that night, Ingrid wrote in my journal and explained some of her reasoning behind continuing her Camino journey, now solo.
“I really have a high tolerance for discomfort, so why not? Good luck on your journey! Buen Camino! (I would say it in Portuguese but I only speak Eng + Spanish!).”
Ingrid planned to walk the central route into Spain, and I had planned to walk the coastal route. This mattered to me more than it should have. Before leaving for Portugal, I had researched every variation of the Portuguese Camino: • The coastal route: flatter, newer, sea views on your left. • The central route: more traditional, more historic, inland villages. When I asked which route I should take, the albergue owner replied: “The Camino is good for the soul. All is good.” I wanted a clear answer on what to do or reassurance that I had picked the “correct” way to do the Camino, and this was not the logistical answer I wanted. Ultimately, I decided to start the coastal route the following morning.
MATOSINHOS
Becoming intentional
My first day of walking was from Porto to Vila do Conde. It is about 18 miles if you take the coastal route.
In Matosinhos, I came across a small pilgrim stamp office. Inside, a woman named Rosa greeted me warmly and stamped my passport. When I asked her why people walk the Camino, she explained that everyone has their own reason. Some see it as a challenge, others find it fun, some do it simply because, and many view it as a spiritual journey. Then she looked at me. “I think for you,” she said, “this is spiritual.”
I hadn’t told her much about myself, but Rosa’s calm and centered energy made me want to trust that she was right. That small connection encouraged me to open my mind to the experiences of the day. Before I left, she wrote words of encouragement in my journal.
“I hope you find the peace you wish for by doing the Way. With my experience I found out that it is an intention job.”
It didn’t take long before I noticed the small yellow arrows painted onto sidewalks, walls, and even hidden within rocks. The arrows are what guide pilgrims all the way to Santiago. No map required. Just trust that if you keep following them, you’re going the right way.
The Camino gives you what you are willing to look for. Walking alone does not guarantee peace; you have to choose it. It was hard not to focus on tracking miles and calculating arrival times, but I was beginning to slow down, open my eyes, and pay attention.
VILA DO CONDE
Community is built
By late afternoon, after hours of walking with the Atlantic on my left and unique fishermen’s towns beside me, I reached Casa de Laura, a small albergue in Vila do Conde. Carlos Amorim, the owner of Casa de Laura and Laura’s husband, wrote in my journal that he first walked the Camino in 1991. Since then, he has completed several routes, including the French, English, and Primitivo. Eventually, Carlos and his wife opened the hostel because there was no pilgrim-specific albergue in the city, something he described simply as:
“Com o espírito do Caminho.”
With the spirit of the Camino.
Carlos later described the global reach and community of their albergue.
“Já recebemos peregrinos de 87 países e é uma experiência maravilhosa.”
We have already received pilgrims from 87 countries, and it is a wonderful experience.
As Carlos wrote his reflections in my journal, I read the guestbook placed on a table near the front desk. It had pages with handwritten messages from pilgrims around the world. The messages were written in Spanish, Portuguese, Korean, French, and English, expressing gratitude, reflections, and marking the distances they had walked.
The hostel itself was simple: bunk beds, shared bathrooms, free port wine in the common area, and a washer and dryer for just a couple of euros. That night, only two other pilgrims stayed, a couple who cooked dinner together. Watching them, I felt something I hadn’t anticipated. They had someone to share the experience with…someone to laugh with, to complain to, and to confirm that, yes, the unexpected uphill path they still called a walk was difficult. I had chosen to do this alone, and I was reminded that solitude and loneliness are not the same thing. Reading the notes of those who came before me and observing the couple, I learned the Camino does not automatically hand you community. It offers you proximity—such as shared dorm rooms, shared meals, and shared trails. True connection requires effort and vulnerability. The Camino had given me distance from the people I love, and in that distance, I gained a deeper appreciation for them. Even though they were not with me, the journey provided time to reflect and reaffirm the importance of nurturing those relationships back home.
BARCELOS
Trust in redirection
The walk from Vila do Conde to Barcelos was longer than I realized, especially after switching inland mid-route on Carlos’s recommendation, which meant extra miles and hills. By late afternoon, I was still walking. Night came, and I was walking in the dark. My phone battery drained, followed by my portable charger. The ups and downs of the hills were constant.
When I finally arrived in Barcelos on New Year’s Eve, the town sparkled with Christmas lights. I had never seen such a beautiful display in my 22 years of life. Thousands of lights across the streets in different displays. In that moment, my physical exhaustion was forgotten by feelings of gratitude.
To my surprise, my hostel, Inn Barcelos Hostel & Guest House, only offered virtual check-ins. My phone battery was at 6 percent. I rang the speaker at the side door, and after some back-and-forth trying to communicate in our respective languages, I understood their instruction to check WhatsApp. They requested payment through a Portuguese app that I did not have. Just before my phone fully died, I managed to convey my situation: that I was walking the Camino solo reporting project and had no way to charge my phone. Not having a plan B like I usually would, standing there outside in the cold felt like an eternity… it was two minutes. To my surprise, the doors unlocked. They let me in, and we sorted out the payment later. Earlier that day, I had imagined celebrating New Year’s Eve with a proper meal. Instead, everything was closed except bars and upscale restaurants requiring reservations. I bought chips, fruit, and candy from a grocery store and ate them on the edge of my bed. This was a seven-year-old’s dream dinner. Somewhere between the potato chips and the reality of the next day’s journey, I started calculating miles again. Originally, I had planned to walk all the way to Ponte de Lima in one stretch. After the day I had, I knew I needed to break it up. I called a place named Casa Da Fernanda. I had heard of her through a pilgrim's TikTok video, and it was listed on Google by a woman who claimed to host pilgrims from her home. To my surprise, she answered late on New Year's Eve. I explained I was walking alone and needed to stop before Ponte de Lima, and she told me she does not normally open her house that time of year, but for a true pilgrim, she would prepare a bed. That night, I watched fireworks from the balcony. I had thought I had planned every detail of this pilgrimage. And yet I was eating potato chips alone on New Year’s Eve in a town I had never heard of before. It was not the plan I had expected, but somehow there was a comfort in the unknown of my journey to Casa Da Fernanda.
VITORINO DOS PIAES
You might already be standing in front of it
The walk from Barcelos to Vitorino dos Piães was gentle compared to the day before. Open farmland stretched out in long, quiet, and open paths. About a mile before I expected Casa da Fernanda to appear, I noticed what looked like a family walking ahead of me. As I approached, they slowed their pace and began walking beside me. One of the women introduced herself as Maria. When they asked where I was staying, I replied, “Casa da Fernanda.” They smiled and told me she was a good friend and that they would take me to her to say hello. When we reached the house and went through the backyard, Maria opened the door and turned toward me. “Hello, Frances,” she said. “I am Maria Fernanda, and this is Casa da Fernanda.” She had been walking beside me the entire time. When I asked her why she hadn’t told me sooner, she explained that when we walk together, you forget that your feet hurt. Casa da Fernanda is not polished. It is a lived-in family home, full of warmth and dogs and stories. They cooked me a homemade dinner full of traditional Portuguese food, wine, and desserts. There was leftover King's Cake from the celebrations of the New Year prior. Her husband, Jacinto, set the table. A friend named Joeanna, whom she had met through hosting pilgrims, joined the conversations. Joeanna had completed the Camino eleven times and told stories about the different routes and the people she had met. After dinner, she brought me two hot water bottles because there was no heating in the room and tucked me into bed. I slept better in that unheated room than I had in any hotel.
The next morning, Maria and I sat together at breakfast. As I ate, she wrote in my journal, sharing stories of how Casa da Fernanda began.
“A Casa Fernanda nasceu por a Fernanda ter conhecido uma peregrina que caminhava o Caminho de Santiago. Essa peregrina chamava-se Margarida e ela perguntou-me por ajuda, pois só queria um teto para dormir porque estava muito cansada e não tinha mais força para caminhar.”
Casa Fernanda was born because Fernanda had met a pilgrim who was walking the Camino de Santiago. This pilgrim was called Margarida, and she asked me for help, for she only wanted a roof to sleep under because she was very tired and had no more strength to walk.
Fernanda made a bed on the floor for Margarida with many blankets. She made dinner. They talked.
“Compreendi que vivia em frente ao Caminho de Santiago e eu não sabia.”
I realized I was living across from the Camino de Santiago and I didn't know it.
Months later, John Brierley, author of one of the most widely used Camino guidebooks, stayed in her home. Pilgrims kept arriving.
“Foi assim que começou a Casa Fernanda.”
That is how Casa Fernanda began.
At the end of her entry, she added a final line for me.
“Para ti Frances, no teu Caminho, espero que sejas feliz e livre como uma borboleta.”
For you Frances, on your Camino, I hope you are happy and free like a butterfly.
We said goodbye that morning, and she set me off with bread, fruit, and a hug. The thing Maria Fernanda had built her life around had been directly in front of her the entire time; she had been living beside the Camino without realizing it, until someone knocked. Her words reminded me that sometimes what we are searching for is already right in front of us.
Ponte De Lima
The little things
From Casa da Fernanda, I walked toward Ponte de Lima, the oldest town in Portugal, where its Roman bridge stretches over the Lima River.
That night, I slept at Old Village Hostel. I did not pre-book my reservation and had the 4-bunked bed female dormitory to myself that night.
In the morning, as I crossed the bridge leaving Ponte De Lima, a man on a bicycle stopped and called out to me by the name pilgrim. He introduced himself as Albert. He had done the Camino many times, sometimes walking, sometimes cycling. He asked where I was headed. “Over the mountain to Rubiães,” I said. I was warned by locals the night before about the elevation gain on my walk that day. Further along, I spotted Albert yet again, stopped at a small pilgrim stamp station. Gestured over, I decided to take a moment to check it out. The man there stamped my passport, pointed to a chalkboard, and directed me to add my name to the running tally of pilgrims who had passed through that day. After I added my name, he rang a bell to mark another pilgrim passing through. Then he handed me a pair of pink sparkly socks. A shallow creek ran through the trail, and there was no way around it, so I stepped through. My shoes and socks were soaked instantly. On the other side, I sat down on a log, wrung out my old pair, and slipped on the gifted pink sparkly ones. It was such a small thing, but it would make all the difference.
Later that day at the summit of a mountain, I met two fellow pilgrims from Spain, who were childhood friends. Despite their exhaustion, they welcomed our conversation and agreed to share their experiences in my journal.
Espata, who had walked the Camino multiple times, reflected on her experiences in Catalan.
“He fet el camino 3 cops, la primera el 2013, la segona el 2015, i aquest 2025 per acabar l’any. El camino portuguès és el més difícil i intens, però cada pas ha valgut la pena, especialment caminar a través dels boscos d’eucaliptus. Fer el camino amb la meva amiga Yeshi ha estat molt bé, hem parlat molt, rigut i disfrutat de l’hospitalitat de la gent.”
I have done the Camino 3 times, the first in 2013, the second in 2015, and this 2025 to finish the year. The Portuguese Camino is the most difficult and intense, but every step has been worth it, especially walking through the eucalyptus forests. Doing the Camino with my friend Yeshi has been very good, we have talked a lot, laughed, and enjoyed the hospitality of the people.
Her entry depicted both the difficulty and enduring appeal of the Portuguese route. Having completed the pilgrimage in 2013, 2015, and again in 2025, Espata emphasized the hospitality she encountered along the way, especially while traveling with her friend Yoshi.
Yeshizeng offered an introspective perspective, describing the Camino as a journey of personal growth and reflection.
“Hola soy Yeshihaze. Este siendo una experiencia enriquecedora es una superación personal. Me siento en paz rodeada de naturaleza y el hecho de estar andando con dolor hace que me replante lo importante. En este momento en la senda hallo vital. Recomiendo a todo el mundo que tenga esta experiencia. Te reafirma de quién eres y dónde vas. Es la mejor decisión de estos últimos meses.”
Hello, I am Yeshihaze. This being an enriching experience is a personal overcoming. I feel at peace surrounded by nature, and the fact of walking with pain makes me rethink what is important. At this moment on the path I find vitality. I recommend to everyone to have this experience. It reaffirms who you are and where you are going. It is the best decision of these last months.
Their reflection showed a common theme among pilgrims: the Camino’s ability to create clarity through physical challenge and exposure to nature. Their company, and a pair of pink sparkly socks gifted earlier that day, carried me forward. Sometimes, the Camino provides exactly what you need. Sometimes that looks like socks and new friends.
RUBIÃES
Keep an open door, or mind
I had heard about the mountain between Ponte de Lima and Rubiães and decided it was best broken into two days rather than one long push to Tui. Using the Camino Ninja app, I called a woman named Natalia, who hosted pilgrims at Casa S. Roque. Natalia answered. Though she didn’t live there full-time, she told me she would open the house for me. She asked me to text when I was close so she could start a warm fire. By the time I arrived, it was dark, and she was outside waiting. Inside, the house felt warm and quiet. She had laid out breakfast for the morning, offered pasta for dinner, and insisted on doing my laundry. The fire she started before I arrived made the room incredibly cozy. She wrote me a message explaining why she had opened her home.
“É melhor escrever em português! Eu fiquei desempregada em 2022 e não sabia o que iria fazer, pois já estava com 50 anos! Então pensei que, como tenho uma casa no caminho, deveria tentar! E tentei em 16 de agosto de 2023, abri a porta!”
It’s better to write in Portuguese! I became unemployed in 2022 and didn’t know what I was going to do, since I was already 50 years old! So I thought that, since I have a house right on the route, I should give it a try! And I did try: on August 16, 2023, I opened the door!
Natalia continued.
“De início não foi fácil ninguém conhecia a casa e eu não percebia muito como funcionava! Mas foram os peregrinos que me disseram o que tinha que fazer! Desde então tem corrido muito bem!”
At the beginning it wasn’t easy. No one knew the house, and I didn’t really understand how it worked! But it was the pilgrims who told me what I needed to do! Since then, everything has gone very well!
By opening her door to strangers, she had built a new opportunity in her life that filled her with purpose.
“Foi a melhor coisa que podia ter feito pois adoro receber peregrinos! E pronto cá eu estou eu toda feliz!”
It was the best thing I could have done because I love hosting pilgrims! And here I am, all happy!
TUI
Independence doesn’t require isolation
From Rubiães, I crossed into Spain and arrived in Tui, staying at Ideas Peregrinas, a small pilgrim-focused hostel near the cathedral.
Before check-in, a man jogging past me mentioned that a children’s choir was performing inside the cathedral for King’s Day. I followed the invitation and found children singing while their parents proudly recorded them from the pews. Later, back at the hostel, I met a man named Ricardo in the common room. He was from Barcelos, the same town where I had eaten potato chips alone on New Year’s Eve. He told me he had begun walking the Camino on his therapist’s recommendation. Ricardo introduced himself in my journal.
“Olá, sou o Ricardo de Barcelos. Vim fazer o caminho para encontrar o meu ‘caminho’.”
Hello, I’m Ricardo from Barcelos. I came to walk the way to find my “way.”
The next morning, we walked together toward Redondela. For the first time, the Camino did not feel like a solo endurance test. We shared why we were walking. I told him about my project. The day went by fast. When it began to rain, we stopped at a small café that didn’t look open. We knocked anyway. The woman welcomed us in and made coffee. I ordered a Kit Kat because by then, chocolate felt necessary. When we asked her to stamp our pilgrim passports, I noticed the name on the stamp: “Albergue O Corisco.” It was the hostel I had booked for that night. We were still two miles from Redondela. If we hadn’t stopped because of the rain—and if we hadn’t knocked—I would have walked straight past it. It felt like more than a coincidence. It reminded me of something Ricardo had written in my journal.
“Tudo o que encontramos nesta jornada é porque o tínhamos que encontrar. O tempo, as pessoas que conhecemos, são-nos postas à frente por alguma razão. O caminho é como a vida: altos, baixos, curvas e contra curvas, mas o que importa no fim é mesmo o destino final e lá chegarmos.”
Everything that we find on this journey is because we had to find it. Time, the people that we know, are placed in front of us for some reason. The Camino is like life: highs, lows, curves and counter-curves, but what matters in the end is really the final destination and arriving there.
I learned that arriving doesn’t have to mean arriving alone. I had come here to walk by myself, but walking alone doesn’t mean you have to carry everything alone.
Pontevedra
Room for silence
Walking alone again felt different this time, less like something I was forcing myself to do, and more intentional. Outside Pontevedra, I met a pilgrim from Poland who owned a plant shop back home and frequently traveled through Asia. He walked at a steady pace, taking in his surroundings intentionally. When I told him my mind tends to race, he simply advised me to keep walking. He wrote in my journal:
“Zacząłem swoje camino ponad dwa lata temu, aby odnaleźć siebie i miejsce w życiu, aby zrozumieć skąd pochodzę i dokąd zmierzam, że nie tylko dla siebie ale również dla rodziny, przyjaciół i wszystkich ludzi.”
I began my Camino over two years ago, in order to find myself and a place in life, in order to understand where I come from and where I am going, that not only for myself but also for family, friends, and all people.
He continued.
“W drodze można znaleźć najwięcej.”
On the journey, you can find the most.
He signed it: Rafał.
That night, by chance, Ricardo was staying at the same hostel, called Dpaso Urban Hostel, and we shared stories about our day.
CALDAS DE REIS
Walk the same road for different reasons
By the time I reached Caldas de Reis, I had adjusted to the lifestyle of the Camino: wake at 6:30 a.m., pack the bag, tie the boots, and walk. Ricardo and I crossed a bridge, leaving Pontevedra, and met a Portuguese family walking together: A mother, her husband, and their daughter Maria. I later discovered that the mother had been on a Portuguese television show called “The Sentence”. Her daughter, Maria, was a few years younger than I was. She was observant, thoughtful, and clearly the planner of their group. Her father carried a backpack for their group that looked incredibly heavy; they were expecting baggage transportation that didn’t work out. The mother admitted she hadn’t particularly wanted to walk the Camino. Maria had encouraged it. The father seemed quietly committed from the start. Despite the language barrier, Ricardo, the family, and I built a strong connection. We walked the trail, stopped for pizza, laughed over language mispronunciations, and took breaks in groups. We all became one cohesive unit.
Maria wrote in my journal.
“Saí do Alentejo, Portugal, com um objetivo: melhorar a minha proatividade e a minha mente.”
I left Alentejo, Portugal, with an objective: to improve my proactivity and my mind.
Maria described herself as someone who had always been insecure, who found refuge in nature.
“Sempre fui uma pessoa insegura e para mim a natureza é a solução! Sempre adorei e sempre foi o meu refúgio. Quem disser que é fácil está a mentir. Não é, mas é um teste para nós próprios crescermos e evoluirmos psicologicamente.”
I have always been an insecure person and for me nature is the solution! I have always loved it and it has always been my refuge. Whoever says that it is easy is lying. It is not, but it is a test for us ourselves to grow and evolve psychologically.
She also wrote about how the Camino changed her, even when it was difficult.
“Vim em família, mas até mesmo eu estou a evoluir mesmo estando cansada e sendo acolhida pelos companheiros certos.”
I came with my family, but even I am growing even while being tired and supported by the right companions.
At the end, she wrote directly to me.
“Obrigada Frances, és incrível e uma grande ajuda para esta caminhada.”
Thank you, Frances, you are incredible and a great help for this walk.
Maria's words reflected the essence of the Camino: we were walking the same road, but for different reasons. Yet we found common ground—that we would reach the end of the path with the help of one another. I stayed at Albergue Agarimo that night, but most of what I remember from this stretch came from the conversations with the new company I found along the path.
PADRÓN
It was always within you
In Padrón, I stayed at Albergue O Pedrón. Notably, they had massage chairs. It was there that I met a mother and daughter originally from Alaska. The daughter, Sara, now lives in Nashville for work. Sara wrote in my journal.
“I walk to remind myself to go where my feet are. The Camino puts everything back into the right perspective.”
Sara and her mother had first walked the main route twelve years ago, and now they were making the time to walk again together.
“When I hiked the main route 12 years ago w/ my mom, she + I were in different seasons (her = grief + loss, me = college season). And now we walk again in different seasons (her = retired, me = divorced + healing). The Camino still reminds me that I am capable. I am not alone. I have everything I need.”
The Camino does not remove grief, uncertainty, or hardship, but it can remind you that you can keep walking through them.
Meeting them near the end made me realize something I hadn’t understood before. Even with all the pain and struggle, this time of solitude may be the very reason people return to do the Camino time and time again.
SANTIAGO DE COMPOSTELA
There often is no “right” way
As we left early that morning, Ricardo, the Portuguese family, and I met at a small café for coffee and donuts before beginning the final day. None of us wanted it to be over, and adrenaline carried us forward.
When we approached Santiago, we began to see familiar faces. The people we had encountered days earlier in hostels, cafés, and along the trail. We cheered each other on, exchanging the traditional greeting: “Buen Camino.” Even though each of us had started on different journeys, we were arriving together.
Standing before the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, I expected a rush of clarity, some internal voice announcing, “Here is the answer.” Instead, I thought about the people. The shared fatigue. The unexpected kindness from strangers when I had nowhere to stay. The unspoken understanding that everyone walking beside you is carrying something. I began this journey trying to choose the “right” route. Coastal or central, faster or slower, alone or not alone. However, somewhere along those 170 miles, I stopped questioning myself and began listening. There was no singular correct path, but there were conversations with strangers that made the miles go by faster. There were doors opened at the right moment. There were sparkly pink socks, fires lit, coffee shared, and families connecting once again. It is difficult to encapsulate such an experience in words, but while standing in Santiago, I didn’t feel like I had my life figured out. Instead, I discovered a testament to humanity: people continue to support one another, and there is trust—both in myself and in the world.
That night, I stayed at Hospedería San Martín Pinario, a former monastery just steps from the cathedral. It was simple and quiet, filled with other pilgrims who, like me, had just arrived. In the morning, we moved slowly through breakfast, all of us recognizable in our worn boots, quietly adjusting to the fact that we had nowhere left to walk.
I learned from the strangers that I remember as friends that if you open your heart, the Camino provides. As I walked 170 miles and discovered that sometimes the path you are meant to follow is revealed not in destinations, but in the people you learn from along the way.