What in the hell am I doing? The Camino de Santiago is a 500 mile walk across Spain. I am doing the Camino Frances, from the French border west to Santiago, near the Atlantic coast. It is a Catholic pilgrimage; though many people do it for non-religious reasons
Why? For fun; for the experience. It is somewhat of a quest. A quest for what? Stop asking such hard questions. Brief answer: post retirement search for identity and purpose in my life. Briefer answer: who am I and where am I going.
I first heard about the Camino in about 2014, from “the legend”, at an early morning exercise class called PMAX. Somebody reading this will remember him and PMAX.
A few years later our friends Mayumi and Erika walked it. I became intrigued by the Camino. I originally planned to do it in 2020. Covid changed that plan. For the last year or so, I have yearned to go but life kept getting in the way.
Last week I had a little meltdown/mini mid life crisis. Beth said, “just go!” I quickly made travel arrangements. I am writing this from CDG Airport in Paris, en route.
I don’t know how often I will post while on the trail. I have never done anything like this before.
I did some research, read a couple of books and watched a lot of YouTube videos. I bought a backpack and packed as best I could.
It weighs about 18 pounds. I plan to walk 12-15 miles per day and stay in hostels along the way. I have my first night booked. After that I will wing it.
I felt very anxious the last few days in anticipation. Sometimes I felt afraid: could I do this? Would I get blisters? Would I be lonely? Sometimes I felt confident: if I can ride 100 miles in one day in my bicycle, walking 500 miles in about 35 days should be doable; there are thousands of other people doing it at the same time, of course I will meet people.
I flew from SFO to Paris. I left Tuesday and arrived Wednesday. When I got to my seat for the 11 hour flight, a young family with a five month old infant greeted me. I expected a horrible experience. It wasn’t. Louis cried for a total of five minutes.
I had a seven hour layover in Paris before my flight to Biarritz. I took a train into Paris where I walked around for a few hours.
I stopped for lunch at a sidewalk cafe where I ordered the “plat du jour” blind - no idea what it was. Calves liver steak!!! I like liver but don’t love it. The last time I ate it was about 30 years ago at Francesco’s in Oakland. [I miss the meals our family used to have there.] I choked it down and had a cafe au lait chaser to keep me up. This is a long travel day. I have been on the road about 22 hours. I have 3-4 hours to go.
I am going to stop writing now. The words are really flowing. A good omen.
the bear
