A Typical Day on the Camino Santiago

Before actually walking the Camino, 

some people have interesting ideas 

about living life as a pilgrim. 

 One of the most interesting was a woman 

who told me she planned
on introducing herself

to the Basque witches when she arrived 

and fully expected to be invited 

to midnight rituals in secret caves 
along the Way. 

I'm pretty sure that didn't pan out for her 

- the "real" Basque witches
 most likely survive 

the same way their ancestors did, 

by NOT opening their arms to strangers.

 This woman's fantasy was so upset by reality 

that she returned to the United States 

after only several days on the Camino.

Although there are as many different ways 

to experience The Way as there are pilgrims, 

I thought it might be helpful to post 

about my own experience 

and share with you a typical day
on the Camino for me. 

Your days can be good ones or bad ones, 

depending on YOUR attitude, 

and the first piece of advice I'll give you is

"Chill Out!" 

 This is going to be an experience
unlike any other. 

Learn to bend like a sapling in a storm
and you will survive.
Have unrealistic expectations, 

and you will snap.

The Camino can be wonderful
and it can be terrible. 

The more open minded and flexible you are, 

the less you are likely to suffer. 

You soon discover that some circumstances 

are not under your control. 

I would say that you
are not the center of the Universe, 

but that isn't exactly true. 

 You ARE the center of YOUR universe 

and you can CHOOSE
how you respond to challenges 

on the road. 

Difficult situations can become nightmares 

or they can become
wonderful life-changing lessons. 

It all depends on your response;

in that you always have a choice.

We have to begin somewhere, 

so let's begin at about 5 a.m.

You have slept in a very crowded albergue.

It was difficult to fall sleep 

because the place is packed 

and the air is thick and stuffy.

 About midnight,
you opened the window 

beside your bunk bed
to get some fresh air,

but the person in the top bunk
promptly closed it. 

You quietly opened it again, 

only to have her sit up, 

give a HUFF, 

and slam it closed! 

You decide not to argue, 

and eventually fall asleep among 

the snoring, farting,
and whispering peregrinos. 

And now, in the darkest dark, 

what should be
the quietest quiet of the morning, 

you are rudely awakened
by the rustling of those 

horrid plastic grocery sacks!

 
Squinting your eyes open, 

you try to see
where the noise is coming from 

and you're suddenly blinded
by someone's headlamp - 

You wonder
what in the world is happening, 
then you realize, 

it is morning
and several pilgrims 

are joining in the daily
"race for a bed!"

Some folks find it impossible
to leave 

their Type A personalities
at home!

Why can't they let their guard down 

and trust the Camino to provide?

They live in fear - 

"Where will I sleep? 

What if there are no beds at the next place?"

 
To assure themselves, 

they awaken at god-awful early times 

and roust everyone else
with their readyings.

You turn over,
put your pillow over your head, 

adjust your earplugs, 

and do your best to get 
another 2 hours of precious sleep. 

But the rustling bags,
the loud whispering, 

the clicking of poles on the floor
continues, 

and after about an hour, 

you give up
along with almost everyone else 

and join the crowd
as they hurry to get on the road.

If you are lucky, 

you have stayed in a place
that refuses 

to unlock the doors until 7 am. 

They do exist,
but they are few and far between.

Last night, after your shower, 

you put on today's walking clothes.

You slept in them, 

and so this morning
you only have to stuff 

your sleeping bag
into your pack to be ready. 

A quick look around
to be sure you aren't leaving anything 

and you are out the door.

There was no breakfast here today. 
But you remember
you have some "Marias"
in your backpack.
There is a fig tree in the yard with a sign
"Gratis"
and so you pick two
and enjoy a small breakfast of 
figs and cookies.

Sometimes the albergue
will offer you breakfast. 

This usually consists of bread 

donated by a local bakery, 

packets of butter and jam,
and coffee. 

Sometimes there will be cereal or fruit,
but not often. 

Spanish bread is lovely. 

Baked fresh each day,
it contains no preservatives, 

so it may be a bit tough if old. 

But it's tasty 
and the only thing
you're likely to get to eat 

for a few hours, 
so you accept it 

and express your thanks
to the hospitalero 

and the Camino,
remembering, 

"A Pilgrim Is Grateful."

You step out into the dawn
and begin to walk. 

One foot in front of the other...

You may walk alone
or you may begin in a group. 

The people in the group will come and go 

as the day progresses. 

You may walk fast or slow, 

and as others pass you, 

they will greet you with "Buen Camino!"  

You quickly learn this phrase
and begin to offer it 

to others you meet along the road. 

You are reminded what it's like 

to have people look at you
when they speak to you. 

It's refreshing to see people
interacting face to face
instead of online. 

This human connection
touches you 

and heals you
in ways you can't explain.

This morning's quest is to find a bar 

where you can have
a "real" cup of coffee 

or hot chocolate or zumo (juice). 

It's usually found
within an hour or two 

of leaving the albergue.

You began this morning 
wearing layers against the cold. 

After about 1/2 hour of walking, 

no matter the weather, 

you find yourself peeling layers off. 

The morning air is fresh and clean. 

You can smell the hay and the cows. 

The sun rises higher
and you begin to sweat. 

You listen to the birds
and the quiet of the countryside. 

You feel alive
for the first time in a long time.

You continue to walk... 

one foot in front of the other...

alone for a couple of kilometers. 

Then a pilgrim passes you. 

Another steps up beside you 
and walks with you for a while,

then turns off to rest
 under the shade of an oak tree.

One foot in front of the other... 

over a bridge...

through vineyards... 

along the banks of a canal. 

You wonder at the wildlife. 

You see nesting birds, butterflies, grasshoppers, frogs. 

You walk a long time
on a hot, dusty track. 

A car passes you. 

The person inside honks and waves. 

"Buen Camino!" they shout!

You wave back,
happy to be acknowledged. 

One foot in front of the other... 

onto some old roman road. 

Walls on each side of you
make the path shady. 

Ivy clings to giant ancient trees. 

You pass a bici-grino fixing a tire. 

"Buen Camino!" 

Your stomach growls -
it must be lunch time.

You walk around a bend
and there is a bar! 

It is OPEN! 

The tables and chairs outside 

are filled with hungry pilgrims. 

Backpacks and walking sticks 
are leaned against the building.

People are going in and out. 

Casa Morgade after Sarria is a great place to stop and rest.

You take off your pack
and leave it outside. 

The first time or two you did this,
it worried you, 

but you now realize
that nobody wants your pack 

and it's o.k. to leave it for a few minutes. 

The bar owner doesn't want it inside 

because too many pilgrims
don't pay attention. 

They turn around
and knock things off counters 

with their big packs. 

They also carry bedbugs and dirt 
into the establishment. 

It's understandable
that the packs and walking sticks 

are required to be left outdoors. 

You get into line and order your coffee. 

You use Spanish to order. 

It's becoming more and more comfortable every day to speak Spanish. 
The people here do not speak English. 

A frustrated American speaks his order 

in S-L-O-W, LOUD English. 

The bartender scowls
and shakes his head. 

He doesn't understand. 

Speaking loud slow English 
won't get you far 

in this country, 

but an honest attempt
to speak the national language will. 

You step up
and help the pilgrim order his food. 

He does not thank you. 

You silently bless him anyway. 

While you're at it,
you silently bless the bar owner, 

who was happy to serve you 

but cranky with the other pilgrim. 

It doesn't matter. 

You choose to smile and be grateful 

for the food and drink and service. 

You see a stack of bocadillos
on the counter 

and you order one
for second breakfast. 

You laugh at the thought
of second breakfast,

but the excessive walking
makes you more hungry

than when you're at home.

You find a place to sit
and enjoy your coffee 

and sandwich.

The tables are full, 

so you sit outdoors on the ground 

leaning against the building. 

It matters not where you sit; 

the food and steaming coffee
lifts your spirits! 

You ask the other peregrinos; 

"Where did you begin today? 

How far will you go?"

You recognize someone you met
 2 weeks ago 

in another town.

"Hey! How ARE you!? 

So nice to see you again!"

You hug like long lost friends!

Photo from Pilgrim Roads

 After you eat and drink, 

you pick up your pack
and once again, 

you walk.

One foot in front of the other...

walking...

walking...

for another few hours.

You stop at a tienda in the village
and buy food. 

Tuna, bread, tomatoes,
and and apple. 

You see the local fountain
and stop to fill your water bottles

with cold spring water. 

"The water in Spain
is much cleaner than at home," 

you think to yourself.

You walk again... 

one foot in front of the other... 

up and hill and down, 

athrough herd of sheep. 

The shepherd's dogs eyeball you, 

wondering if you're a threat. 

You hold your walking stick tighter.

They decide
you are not bothering them, 

and trot off into the dusty wake
of 100 bawling sheep.

You turn your face to the sun.

It feels so good, so warm.

You come into another small village.

The streets are narrow and pristine. 

You spot a house
with a bright blue door. 

There are clean clothes 
hanging from the upper windows,

flapping like flags in the wind. 

The lower windows are filled 
with geranium planted pots; 

a study in reds, hot pinks, and greens. 

What wonderful houses
the Spanish live in!

Watercolor by Joy Laking

 You walk out of this village
and into the countryside. 

There are sunflower fields 
on each side of the dirt path. 

You are curious
about the ancient irrigation systems.

Who made these?

How long have they been here?

In another village,
the church bell rings

and you pass a group of local grandmothers 

waiting to attend a special Mass
for a friend

who passed away yesterday.

Each smiles at you and blesses you 

with a "Buen Camino!"

You grin back, 
and say "Thank you" in English.

You walk...

one foot in front of the other...

walking...

walking...

walking...

After an hour, 

one of your toes is hurting. 

Each step is becoming painful. 

You realize it is a hotspot - 

a red tender area
where your shoe or sock is rubbing. 

You need to make a decision. 

You can continue
 and get a full blown blister, 

or you can stop
and take care of this now. 

There is a horse trough
next to the path,

and you stop. 

You sit on the ground 

and take off your shoes and socks. 

Your feet thank you! 

You briskly rub them all over, 

then plunge them
into the ice cold water trough. 

It is shockingly cold, 

but it also feels so good! 

A soak in icy water sure feels good!

You soak your feet for 5 minutes, 

and then dry them off
with your towel. 

You dig in your pack 
for the Compeed you bought last week. 

It came in many sizes
and you bought one of each. 

There is one made just for toes! 

Some pilgrims
pierce their blisters with needles,

but you don't want to chance infection,

and besides,
it is not a full-blown blister yet.

You carefully cover the hot spot
with Compeed. 

It will remain on your skin until it falls off. 

You put your socks and shoes back on 
and breathe a sigh. 
Oh, that is so much better!

And you begin walking again...

one foot in front of the other... 

walking... 

walking... 

walking...

Three pilgrims pass you. 

"Buen Camino!" you wave. 

They respond, "Buen Camino!" 

You pass a pilgrim on crutches.

She has one foot in a cast
and is limping along.

"Are you ok?" you ask. 

Se nods and grins. 

You continue walking...

knowing each pilgrim must walk

their own Camino.

You can not take away her pain.

You can only pray for her
and bless her.

Lunchtime comes and goes. 

You pass another bar. 

You have a picnic lunch in your pack, 

but decide to go inside instead. 

You order a big, cold
cerveza con limon. 

It is so refreshing and comes 
with a small bowl of olives. 

You look at the menu
and see they offer for lunch...
 BOCADILLOS!

You order and eat
another bocadillo. 

Have you ever eaten
so many sandwiches 
in your life?

It is good and gives you energy.  

It's filled with thin slices
of local ham and cheese. 
No mayo. No mustard.
No tomato or onion.
Just ham and cheese.

Other pilgrims at a nearby table ask, 

"Where did you start today? 

How far will you walk?"  

These questions are beginning
to form a song 

in your head.

You finish your lunch and ask to use the bathroom.

"Dónde está los servicios?"  

You are directed
to a tiny closet sized room.

There is a hole in the ground. 

It is a squat toilet. 

Most places have 
what you would call
"normal" toilets, 

but these squat toilets
do exist along the Way. 

The toilet is not necessarily clean. 

It was most likely cleaned this morning, 

but hitting the hole takes practice, 

and some pilgrims
have never seen such a toilet! 

You pull down your pants 

and place your feet on each side, 

squatting while trying to keep your clothes 

from touching anything.  

You wish you had used
the toilet at the albergue 

this morning before you left. 

You finish and realize
there is no toilet paper, 

not because it is not offered, 

but because previous pilgrims
have stolen it. 

Why do they do that? 

Why not just buy their own? 

Luckily, you have a roll in your pack 

that you bought in St. Jean. 

At least there is a toilet here. 

You remind yourself again, 

"A Pilgrim is Grateful."  

You wash your hands, 

put your pack on your back,

and walk out the door. 

"Buen Camino!" says the bartender.

You again put one foot in front of the other...

walking.. 

walking.. 

walking... 

Up ahead,
you see the weather is changing. 

You feel a cold wind beginning to blow.

Soon dark clouds roll in.

Then, suddenly it begins to rain! 

HARD!  

There is no shelter. 

You take off your pack, 

and dig into it for your Altus rain poncho. 

You put it on over your pack, 

pull the hood on and button it up. 

 The trail quickly turns to a muddy slush

and your shoes grow heavy

as the thick clay sticks to them,

making each step difficult.

And still, you put one foot in front of the other 

and walk....walk... walk...

You have been walking steadily
for 6 hours now 

and you are beginning to feel tired.

You have passed many pilgrims 

and many pilgrims have passed you.

You have stopped for breakfast, 

to nurse your feet, 

and for lunch.

You are ready for this day of walking 

to be finished.

Soon, in the distance,
you see a hill, 

and at the top, a village.

This is where you will sleep tonight,
hopefully.

You wonder if you can make it. 

You really don't want
to sleep in the weather tonight, 

so you push yourself to walk on and on, 

the village getting closer and closer,  

the hill feeling more steep with each step.

As you finally enter the village, 

you see the yellow arrows, 

and painted signs
directing you to the albergue.

You have arrived around 3 pm
after walking all day.

As you approach, you see a sign.

It says 

"Completo!"

They are full! 

Oh NO!

What will you do?

You plop down on a wall, 

drink water, 

rub your face, 

and think. 

Another pilgrim comes up to you
and says,

"There is another albergue
at the end of the village. 

Perhaps they'll have a bed for you."  

You thank him, 

then turn and begin walking
up the next hilly street 

in the indicated direction, 

one heavy foot in front of the other...

You reach the albergue 

and find it is open. 

Halleluiah!

This albergue is "donativo" 

and offers dinner AND breakfast!

What a blessing!

You sign in
and place 10 Euros in the box, 

understanding that this money will buy 

tomorrow's breakfast and dinner for tomorrow's pilgrims.

You are shown to your room. 

Sometimes you can choose your own bed, 

but in this case, one is assigned. 

You are lucky today; 

the sheets look CLEAN! 

There is even a pillow
and a small blanket at the foot, 

carefully folded. 

These hospitaleros are good ones! 

They care!

You look for signs of bedbugs. 

Seeing none, 

you quickly mist your bed
with mosquito spray. 

You wait 5 minutes. 

No bugs. 

Satisfied, you put your sleeping bag
on the bed 

to hold your place.  

If you had found bugs, 

you would have asked for a refund
and moved on.

Digging your clean clothes,
towel, and bath soap 

out of your backpack, 

you also grab the zip lock bag you carry 

for your valuables, 

and then you head for the showers.

There is no line
and the showers are not only clean, 

the water is HOT!

Maybe the first albergue being closed

was a blessing!

You are lucky again!

You undress, 

putting your money belt
in the zip lock bag.

You take this INTO the shower with you.

You never leave this precious bundle anywhere ... 

NEVER!

It reminds me of a sign I saw that said, 

"In God we Trust; all others pay cash."

It's ok to trust people, 

but it also pays to be smart. 

If your cash and cards are stolen, 

it could mean the end of your journey.

It would be nice to think
that no pilgrim would steal, 

but that's just not the case.

There's always that one... 

no need in tempting him or her.

You enjoy the 5 minute hot shower, 

then you get dressed, 

returning your money belt
to your body.

It's damp, 

not from the shower, 

but from your sweaty walk.

It doesn't matter.

It is your lifeline.

You must always
wear it next to your body.

You take your dirty clothes
out to the washing station.

There are no machines.

Laundry here is done by hand.

You wash out your clothes 

and hang them on the provided racks.

Everyone uses the same racks.

You will gather your clothes
before you sleep tonight 

or in the morning before you leave.

You check the "free" box 

to see if there's anything you might need.

You find a lightweight long-sleeved shirt 

that will be good sun protection.

You leave a can opener

and a sleeping mat that you've decided

you do not need.

Time for a siesta! 

This is a perfect time
to catch an hour or two of sleep 

before dinner.  

It's also a good time to find a computer 

and email family at home
or to visit with other pilgrims.

After a short rest, 

you explore the albergue 

and find this one
has a well-stocked kitchen.

Asking the hospitalero, 

you discover there is a small tienda 

in the village and it is open.

You take a short walk
and do some shopping, 

then return to the albergue
to cook your own dinner. 

It will be pasta 
with a homemade tomato
and onion sauce.

You will save the food
you bought yesterday 

for tomorrow's lunch. 

You have heard there is no place to stop 

along tomorrow's etapa.

You begin cooking and soon, 

other pilgrims come along.

"I have a bottle of wine!"

"I have a loaf of bread!"

"I have some lettuce and tomatoes"

"I have a can of tuna and some olives!"

"I have apples and bananas!"

Your meager pasta dinner 
has become a pilgrim potluck !

The hospitalera arrives and reminds you
this albergue offers dinner!
You forgot!
Oh well, you laugh at each other,
set the table for a feast!

You all have a wonderful time 

sharing food, wine, and stories.

You head to your bed about 9 pm. 

On the way,
you pick up your clothes, 

which are dry. 

The lights will go out
automatically at 10 pm, 

but you are happy to get
an extra hour of rest. 

There is a pilgrim speaking loudly
on her cell phone.

She doesn't seem to care that her voice

is disturbing others.

A brave pilgrim
asks her to please take it outside.

She is embarrassed, and complies.

You crawl into bed
in the clothes you will wear tomorrow. 

You are ready to walk. 

All you have to do is get up, 

stuff your sleeping bag into your pack, 

and go.

As your head hits the bed, 

a million thoughts replay.

"Hopefully, those grocery sack pilgrims 

found a place at the OTHER albergue!"

"Wasn't it a wonderful dinner?"

"Weren't those people from Chile nice?"

"The blisters the fellow
from Oregon had were horrible! 

Poor guy!"

"Tomorrow, I will walk an extra 5 kilometers..."

The next thing you know, 

you are blinded by the lights
being flicked on!

It's 7 am!!! 

You actually slept in!

You look around, 

and most of the beds are empty.

Wow!

Awesome!

Ok... time to get moving...

You are the last person to get up.

Breakfast is still on the table, 

and there is more than enough food!

"Take some with you,"
the hospitalera offers! 

And so you do. 

You stuff some bread, butter, jam,
and fruit 

into your backpack.

It will make a nice snack for the trail. 

You drink an extra cup of coffee. 

Then you put your pack on your back.

You hear the bell tolling in the village.

As you walk out the front door
into the morning air, 

a priest passes on his way to Mass. 

"Buen Camino!" he says 

as he blesses you in the air.

"Gracias!" you answer.

And again you walk...

putting one foot in front of the other....

and the whole thing starts all over again,

like a loop with no end.

For 6 wonderful weeks,

this is the simplicity of your life.

I hope you will enjoy your version.

 "Buen Camino!"

Annie