The Camino de Santiago
‘Should we go for a walk?’ I’m the first to pull out this phrase as soon as essay prep gets too tricky in the library or we have more than 15 minutes of sun in St Andrews. However, this summer I decided to up the stakes a little. Instead of a walk on West Sands or a stroll on the Scores, how about a walk from Portugal to Spain following a UNESCO-accredited pilgrimage path? It sounded like the perfect chance to ruminate on every single interaction I’ve ever had (like any other twenty-something enjoys to do) and maybe, just maybe, learn more about who I actually am.
And so I set out on the Camino de Santiago alongside my best friend, Cesca. The Camino is the ‘way of St James’, primarily a religious pilgrimage, though people now set out on it for a variety of reasons. Through walking the path, you are led to the tomb of the apostle Saint James in the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. You can walk, cycle, or travel by horse along one of many routes through Spain, Portugal, France, or even all the way from Ireland. No matter the journey you choose, all roads lead to Santiago. The journey we chose took just over two weeks and led us on a 306km walk from Porto, Portugal, along the Portuguese coast, into the Spanish hills, and finally to the infamous cathedral. And not to be dramatic, but those two weeks changed how I see everything.
Mind over Matter
We all know, deep down, that most of our insecurities and anxieties are just in our heads. People don’t actually know it’s your first time wearing your new hat out, or that you hate how you look in that one photo on Instagram. Yet, it isn’t easy to recognize just how much power our mind has. During the Camino, I quickly realized that the most challenging part wasn’t the physicality of the walk but the mental strength it required. Ten days into the walk, Cesca and I faced what on paper was going to be the hardest day. Pure incline in the Spanish hills for six hours as the weather flitted between scorching heat and the kind of light rain that leaves you unable to see more than three feet in front of you. The only way I got through was by telling myself (in my head and out loud) that every step I took, I would never have to take again. The journey was constantly developing. There’s something bittersweet in that realization, yet powerful. You really can get through anything, even if the more athletic pilgrims are speeding ahead of you up the hill, take the steps and laugh along the way.
Accept the silence:
I wish it weren’t true, but I’m addicted to my phone. My screen time is horrific, and I know far too many brain-rot references. On the Camino, it’s the complete opposite. You’re forced into a life disconnected from all else. Your world becomes the Camino path, and that is it. You rarely have internet, you don’t follow a physical map, but rather yellow arrows painted on street posts. And a lot of the journey is conducted in silence. You might think this would be awkward. Cesca is perhaps the only person in the world to whom I always have something to say, and yet we rarely spoke during the actual walk. The silence was never uncomfortable but rather an acceptance that the inner journey we were on was more important in those moments. Best believe that when we got to our Albergues for the night, we were chatting up a storm, dissecting every step of our journey and our thoughts on our fellow pilgrims. The memories of those days will last a lifetime, but sometimes the knowledge that someone is by your side (both physically and metaphorically) says more than words could ever.
Humanity is actually pretty precious:
There are ample reminders in our dark times that war, destruction, and pain are everywhere, yet the Camino highlighted for me the innate kindness of most people. Neither Cesca nor I can speak Portuguese, yet throughout our journey from Porto to the Spanish border, we were inundated by kind gestures. From an old man gifting us oranges from his garden, to a Portuguese grandma offering us refuge from the scorching midday heat, all without the help of Google Translate. The continuous help was a reminder that we really can’t do everything ourselves, and that a little kindness goes a long way —an excellent reminder for everyday life.
The journey is better than the destination:
We spent two weeks walking to Santiago, and along the way, I could barely think about the final cathedral point without tearing up. On the final day, there was a buzz of anticipation all around. And yet, when there were only 10km left, it wasn’t necessarily excitement that I was feeling, but nostalgia for the journey I’d been on, despite it being so recent. I found my mind going back to my favorite moments of the journey, our evening by the beach after our first day of walking, the joy of being first in line to the Albergue, laughing so hard that my ribs hurt in a bunk bed in the middle of Pontevedra.
Community is the backbone of life:
It can feel as though everyone is always on their own path; it’s a rat race of individualism out there, and yet we all crave connection and community. On the Camino, community is in abundance. You’re all walking to the same place, and so the faces you see every day become familiar. There were nights when we shared a hostel with the same people we had seen a week earlier. One of the first people we saw when we arrived in Santiago was a man from our very first Albergue. Community is built into the pilgrimage; tradition holds that every pilgrim you pass, you say ‘bon Camino’ to, as a mark of luck for the pilgrim’s journey. Once you complete the pilgrimage, you are invited to the pilgrim’s mass, whilst conducted in Spanish, the remainder translated into several languages at the beginning of the service is perhaps the most striking souvenir of my journey. The message is simple: whilst you walked the route alone at times, here in this room, it is clear that you were never truly walking alone.
And so, whilst I’m frantically planning my next Camino, I’m able to understand that it might not be for everyone. The reminders of simplicity and joy that I learnt through my trip have stayed with me and will continue to shape who I am to my core. I hope they leave an impression on you, too. Bon Camino!