Camino, day 3
Tamel, 7th October 2023
Buen Camino,
(note: in the original letters, I mistakenly marked Day 2 as Day 3) Yesterday’s mix of blazing sun, cold cider, and emotional chaos caused that I added an extra day to the Camino (if only). Yesterday was Day 2, today is Day 3. Moving on.
This morning, I woke up as the first on and left as the last one. Naturally. The walk was lovely, I’m glad I switched routes. The Portuguese Central takes you through forests, fields, meadows, and vineyards, but mostly through villages and towns.
I only met a few people throughout the day. I passed two pilgrim grandmas, then another one passed me. That hurt my ego a little, how she just flew past me, scarf on her head, legs like a cheetah. So I picked up my pace.
I planned the day so I'd have lunch in a bigger town called Barcelos. When I arrived, I didn’t check the time and went to peek inside the local church. As I stepped out, the bells struck twelve. That’s what I call perfect timing.
The Camino led through the town centre. I stopped at an Italian café by a fountain. Since breakfast had been leftover fish from dinner, I treated myself to a toast with Nutella, banana, and cinnamon. Highly recommend.
At the visitor centre, I got a new map. This time for the Central route. A handsome, kind-looking Portuguese guy handed it to me along with a stamp. For a second, I almost regretted having to walk more kilometres and not staying the night in Barcelos. We exchanged a few lines and smiles. Then I had to use the restroom. While checking myself in the mirror, I was rehearsing how to say goodbye to that handsome, kind-looking Portuguese guy. Lost in thought, I unlocked the restroom door and pushed. Nothing. Tried again. Still nothing. Panic flooded my veins. I knocked. I banged. I pounded. And suddenly, the door opened from the outside. By sliding. The handsome, kind-looking Portuguese guy stood there, staring at me as if I was a big, stupid-looking idiot. I stammered about a million obrigados and blamed it on the sun and my heavy backpack. Then I sprinted out of Barcelos like that grandma with the cheetah legs.
Today’s total: 27.2 kilometres. My record so far. One day, I hope to break 30. Although walking the same number of kilometres as the temperature outside may not be the smartest idea. I guess I’ll wait for rain.
But I thought about it today. About why I’m so eager to push forward. Sure, part of it is proving something to myself and feeling proud. But on the other hand, shouldn’t I be enjoying each day instead of rushing to the finish? Kind of a metaphor for life, right? Whether at home or on the Camino, I need to tame that engine a little and just enjoy the journey.
But I also realised one thing today. I was so well prepared for the trip. I’ve got an amazing backpack (thanks Mum and Grandma for convincing me to buy it), amazing shoes (thanks Mum and Dad for convincing me to keep them), enough sunscreen, and a fanny pack like a true tourist. Nothing missing, nothing extra (apart from my thermos, which is currently in Rates, waiting for its new owner). And I’m doing well. With each kilometre, I feel less urge to hold up the backpack straps with my hands. And it’s a great feeling to watch the kilometres tick away.
I think my mind was prepared too. So far (knock on wood), I'm not super tired or unhappy about the overall discomfort. At the same time though, I don’t feel like I’m getting closer to some life-changing awakening. I even listened to a podcast today because at one point I was kinda bored.
But tonight over pizza, my German roommate told me that this journey is full of all kinds of emotions. That it’s not just about the joy of inner fulfilment, but also about sadness, frustration and boredom. And that in Santiago, it all connects into some sort of whole. But for now, I don’t have to worry about it.
So I don’t. Instead, I'm looking forward to breakfast. I’m gonna have leftover pizza. That’s the pilgrim way to do it.
Have a great Sunday!
Kat