I started my day out at 5:40 and walked a little over 25 kilometers, about a mile less than yesterday.
I walked alone for the most part, and stopped for lunch with Clara, from the Canary Islands, and Juan, from Murcia, when Juan offered me his day old bread and some wine in a water bottle. Needless to say, after so much walking, it tasted divine.
I arrived at my final town quite early, around 2 pm, and my tribe starting piling in.
An international group of about 15 of us, settled on the grass in the albergue lawn and a French man, Jey, began playing guitar and singing. Everyone was a few beers in, so we all began singing, myself included. I don’t sing, but boy did I bring it during Hotel California.
Between our hippie lawn jam and practicing cartwheels, a Barcelonian man, Ivan, noticed my massive blister and by popular consensus we decided to pop it. It’s human nature to be fascinated by the grotesque, so I had a circle of 12 onlookers as Susanna, a German, peeled off my synthetic skin bandaid, and Mundo, from Mexico, gathered his first aid kit, and pulled a needle and thread through my blister. Ivan talked to me the whole time to distract me from my oozing toe.
It was an overwhelming moment, not because of my injury, but because I was the newest addition to the cohort and already everyone took care of me as if I were family.
Afterwards, because apparently no one lost their appetite, we had dinner and about a bottle of wine each, singing to Jey guitar playing until the albergue owner told us it was curfew.
Every single person at our table had arrived on the Camino alone, and we had quite the international bunch. Together we represented the USA, Spain, Australia, the UK, Italy, Brazil, Mexico, Germany and France.
I have found my tribe in this eclectic group of kind and beautiful people, and I’m starting to realize that the Camino isn’t just about yourself, but every person who helps you find your Way.
