Reflections from the Camino
My first solo trip abroad.
Hello friends,
I feel like it’s been a while. Let’s catch up. I have so much to share with you.
Thanks for your continued support. It was difficult to post while I was in Spain. I managed to send a few pictures via Notes. I hope you had a chance to see them.
This was my first solo trip abroad. I wasn’t too worried about traveling alone, but I was more concerned about communicating. I didn’t speak Spanish, so navigating was difficult at first until I started using a translator app.
After saying “Hola” and asking “Habla inglés?” I quickly learned that a simple “hola” earned me more respect and that people were very helpful. I found the greeting a pleasant way to connect with a stranger before asking for assistance. It was a polite gesture before my attempt to speak broken Spanish. I was told my effort was appreciated.
My first few days in Madrid were filled with adjustment as I struggled with the time change. My diet, walking routine, and sleep patterns were disrupted, leaving me both exhausted and excited.
The Real Journey Begins
The train ride from Madrid to Sarria took less than four hours. It was surprisingly comfortable and fast. Sitting on the train with my pack beside me, my intentions quietly tucked away deep inside, I was catching up to the reality that my dream was finally going to happen. I was starting my pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago. I didn’t know then that the easy part was getting there. The hard part would be coming home.
The Piece of Forward Motion
I couldn’t wait to start walking! There’s something about walking that strips everything down to its essence. One foot, then the other. Breathe. Repeat. For days, this became my meditation. Not the kind where you sit still and fight your thoughts, but the kind where movement itself creates a rhythm that quiets everything else.
My daily walking routine at home had prepared my legs well. Most days on the Camino felt manageable, even joyful. One day, due to a navigation error on my part, I walked about 20 miles, which tested me, but even that became part of the story. Even that became something I walked through.
What I loved most was the simplicity of the mission: walk, arrive, rest, and repeat. The old Galician villages with their stone walls and narrow streets. The fellow pilgrims, each carrying their own reasons and intentions. The ritual of stopping to get my credential stamped at each stage was a small confirmation that yes, I was here, I was doing this, I was moving forward.
I met a gentleman at dinner one evening, and we began walking together the next morning. We kept walking for several days, our conversations unfolding naturally between the silences. We discovered we shared similar views on life, not in a forced, trying-to-connect way, but in that easy recognition that comes when you meet someone who sees the world through a familiar lens. Walking beside him, talking about everything and nothing, I felt the gift of companionship without performance. Just two people walking. It made the journey especially special.
The Clarity You Can’t Unsee
Here’s what I didn’t expect. The Camino gave me exactly what I asked for. All those intentions I had been carrying, and all those questions about where I needed to make changes in my life, revealed themselves.
The walk created space for them, and in that space, with nothing but sky, path, and the steady rhythm of steps, the answers began to appear. Not dramatically. Not all at once. But clearly. When you’re that focused on the simple act of moving forward, when you’ve stripped away the noise, the distractions, and the 100 small obligations that usually fill your days, you see things. You see what matters. You see what doesn’t. You see what needs to change, and once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
The Sadness of Return
When I returned to Madrid, I felt it immediately, a deflation. A sadness that the pilgrimage was over. The city that had seemed like an exciting reward at the end now felt jarring. Too loud. Too fast. Too much. I had to sit with those feelings. I am still sitting with them. I miss the Camino.
I miss the clarity of having a single purpose each day. I miss the peace that came from being fully focused on the mission. I miss walking beside someone who understood without needing to explain.
But here’s the truth: the real pilgrimage didn’t end in Santiago de Compostela. It’s continuing now in the much more difficult terrain of everyday life.
The Work That Waits
Back home, I find myself overwhelmed, not by the Camino but by what it showed me. All those insights, all that clarity I found while walking, and all the changes I now know need to be made are waiting for me. They are not going anywhere.
This is the part they don’t tell you about transformation. It’s uncomfortable. Seeing what needs to change is one thing. But actually, changing it is another. The walking was hard on my body but easy on my soul. This living with what I now know is the opposite. I can’t unlearn what the Camino revealed. I can’t go back to the comfortable numbness of not seeing clearly. Even though part of me wants to return to that peaceful rhythm of the path, I know that’s not the answer either. The answer is here, in the overwhelm, in the discomfort, in the slow, unglamorous work of taking what I learned on the trail and living it out in real time, in real life, with all its complications.
Your Own Camino
You don’t need to walk 100 kilometers through Galicia to find this. You don’t need a credential, a scallop shell, or a train ticket to Sarria. What you need is the willingness to create space. To move, whether that’s walking a trail near your home, sitting in intentional silence, or simply stepping away from the noise long enough to hear yourself think.
Your Camino might be a local park you visit every morning before the world wakes up. It might be a weekend away when you leave your phone in the car. It might be a daily practice to move your body and let your mind follow. Join our walking club for inspiration. I’d love to hear about your walks.
But here’s what I can promise you. If you create that space, ask the questions, and walk toward clarity with intention, you will see things. Once you see them, you can’t unsee them. And that’s when the real journey begins.
The Camino gave me peace, connection, the meditative grace of forward motion, and the gift of seeing clearly.
Now it’s given me the work. The uncomfortable, overwhelming, necessary work of living out what I learned. I loved my pilgrimage. I always will.
And I’m learning to love this part too. Even when it’s hard, especially when it’s hard. Because transformation isn’t comfortable. But it’s the whole point of walking in the first place.
Buen Camino- wherever your path leads. Buen Camino means “have a good journey.”
P.S. I forgot to mention that I decided to make this trip during my very special 65th birthday year. My daughter reminded me that I made it happen. Happy birthday to me!
