The arrangements I made along the Camino sometimes included what are known as rural houses. If there wasn’t a hotel in the area, these historic homes would be opened up to pilgrims. This happened to be the case in Los Arcos, in the province of Navarre. Upon reaching Los Arcos, I was to call the rural house, and they would pick me up from the town square and drive me to my accommodation (about 12 minutes away by car). In the morning, they would drop me off in the exact same spot. On one occasion, they tried to drop me off 100 meters from where I was picked up the day before, and I made the driver back up. To which the other American in the car said, “What is wrong with you?”
Great question. I was walking all 500 miles; I was not about to get gypped out of 100 meters.
These rural houses are usually fully restored historic homes. The one I am staying in tonight is a former 17th-century home, made of solid stone. The walls must be at least a foot thick, and heavy wooden shutters (on the inside) blocked out the light at night. There are no electronic keypads, but heavy metal keys on a significant “keychain” to prevent a pilgrim from inadvertently walking off with one. Sometimes, when I would go explore the city, I needed my string backpack just to carry the key as it would not fit into my pocket.
Another feature of these rural homes is that they are usually in a more remote area, where there aren’t stores in which to buy food, or restaurants in which to dine. As such, dinner (and breakfast) would be in the small dining area.
This was day eight of walking. My knees were swollen, and my feet were a bit angry at me. I was looking forward to a simple dinner and then off to bed to watch my clothes dry. I sat at a table for two, and two other tables were occupied. One was a very cute Filipino couple (Nonoy and Dindin); the other was two women (Sheila and Amy), about my age, who appeared to be old friends from the States.
At some point, the conversation stretched beyond the table across the usual buffer of privacy to another table. I can’t recall who breached this social etiquette, but if I know me, it was me. As I have written previously, there is an intimacy among pilgrims. The social walls that are prevalent in every other part of the world are non-existent along the way. Soon, seamless conversations occurred among the three tables. Names were exchanged, and the seeds of friendship were planted.
It was so early on in my journey; I had no idea if these seeds would bear fruit. I had no idea if I would ever see these people again. This mystery added to the magic of each moment. I learned to enjoy the present moment and my new friends who filled it.
At breakfast in the morning, we picked up right where we left off the night before. No hugs were exchanged, only the familiar “Buen Camino,” as I left with the owner at the break of day.
I had no idea at the time, but I was about an hour away from one of the most memorable encounters of my 35 days walking. This may be a two-part post at some point in the future, but let’s table it for now. I was off to Logrono and my first rest day since I began. It would be a long hike in the direct sun as temperatures hovered in the 80s. Leaving in the morning would be the coolest part of the day.
Several days later, I ran into Amy and Sheila as I was determined to power up the hill I was facing. They had stopped to rest in the shade of a tree, and I had learned that a body in motion remains in motion, especially on hills. I felt bad for seemingly being so rude, but if they noticed, it didn’t bother them.
Nonoy and Dindin, or Noy and Din, which they preferred, were walking shorter distances every day, which meant that they would never have a break. It also meant that I would keep catching up to them over the next month. I created a running gag, in which I would jog up from behind them as if I had been running to catch them, and I would bring “news” from Camino Council (which is a fictitious body that would be my foil).
Out of breath, I would arrive and report, “The council is concerned with your pace and you are bringing down the averages.” Or “The council is closed today since it is Sunday, but they send their greetings.” Or “The council congratulates you on your progress and wants to notify you that you are more than halfway there.”
Needless to say, I ran into them frequently. But for the last two weeks or ten days, it seemed that I could not catch up. I knew that we would finish on the same day, so I figured I would see them in Santiago. We had previously exchanged contact information on WhatsApp, so we would occasionally send photos. We had lunch together in Leon, when I had octopus pizza for the first time in my life. Seated right next to our table was another woman from Canada whom I had gotten to know at a rural house weeks earlier. She was fascinating for many reasons, but mostly because she was traveling alone and in her 70’s.
The week before our arrival in Santiago, a reunion dinner was arranged with me, Noy, Din, Sheila, and Amy. A restaurant was selected, and we decided it would be fitting to have our final dinner together before going our separate ways.
We met, well rested and clean, greeted one another with a warm embrace, and sat down to share a meal and exchange stories. It is hard to capture the mood of this night, but we were no longer strangers heading in the same direction brought together by chance; we were intentional friends who shared a common experience, and that experience helped to transform us and bring us closer together. It is difficult to explain just how quickly the deep bonds of friendship are formed on the Camino. It remains yet to be another mystery.
Unlike in previous encounters in which I had a pretty good idea that I would bump into my friends again, I knew that I would likely never break bread with them or report from the council ever again. However, I was not sad for this loss; I felt blessed to have made new friends. After dinner, we walked together in the direction of the Cathedral as the sun softened and the light bounced off the buildings. One final embrace before we parted company.
Permission was granted by each party for use of this image. PS I miss you all.