A pilgrimage without destination

by Anna Vécsei (Hungary)

I didn't expect to find Portugal

It happened last May, right after leaving my job at the Museum, so what was planned to be just another escape suddenly got filled with expectations, responsibility and reality. First of all, I didn't want another 'Camino experience'. I felt I've already had my Camino three years ago. Still I was on the plane to Portugal to venture the Costal way, from Porto to... yes, I had no idea whatsoever. As I have been to over 30 cities of Spain but never to Portugal so far, I did some research along with the physical training, and thanks to the former I ordered The Camino Portugués guide book (Kat Davis, Cicerone) with nice azulejo patterns on the cover. But basically I just needed to walk and walk, walk the last months out of my head and fill it with the beauty of the coastal line, the salty air and the usual feeling that there are so many things out there waiting for me. Porto was sad and rainy, almost as sad as the girl in my beautiful hostel I just happened to have breakfast with in the common lobby that faced those awe-inspiring traditional blue white tiled walls. The rain was silently showering the laurel tree in our 1x1 inner garden while Kashie told me her story. I was in no mood for people, no mood for her. And still – this is Camino – I offered a tiny nata and some consoling words. Heartbreak just breaks your heart. I travel alone especially on caminos, so all I could do was give her a talisman, a Virgin Mary of the Miracles from my last pilgrimage. And off she went on the next day, the one before my own departure. The hotel was dead silent. It just started to rain outside. I walked down from the top of the hill till I reached the channel and the port, and turned right to face the sea, the rain, the wind and all what was to come. After waving goodbye to the last tall bridge which connects Porto to Vila Nova I reached the end of the mainland and the trail turned right. As long as the ocean is on your left, you are doing okay. The wind was even worse here, and the big waves predicted no better future. As if to rival the experiences of my first day, second day's treats were burning sun, strong wind and small cobblestones. No churches, no shade, no open buffets. Till the end of the day I was so upset that I could barely speak. The others just took a pitied look on me and opened the path to the bathroom. The owner said it is okay if I do the check-in later. That night I kept thinking over and over again, why on earth am I doing it? I had no answer. Okay, I will take it easy. I won't go 30. I won't even go 20. I'll just go 10. And smile. I was alone again, a bit further to Esposende, sitting in the shade of the eucaliptus trees when Bernie came along and her energy and humor pulled me further. It was fiftyish Bernie with whom I climbed that day's trip. And it was this tiny Irish lady who saved my camino without a destination. Even the road looked different as we ventured through an eucaliptus forest together to find a nice restaurant, where the waiters treated us with genuine kindness. We felt safe, safer than before. We were far from the shore, but we could see the sea from afar. We said goodbye not knowing whether we would come across each other again. That's what you never know on a camino. It dawned on me that in certain ways I do need company. I am resting in the shade of a huge... don't laugh... billboard. Just looking suspiciously at the shining towers of not far away Viana do Castelo when suddenly: Oh my God...! It's Kashie catwalking on the trail in her cool Berlin architect style, no neon raincoat fastened on her hips, no old baseball caps, totally Grace Kelly-like. Hey! -- I shout. Wait! I'm coming with you!