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If I could, I think I would live on the Camino for the rest of my life, or at least in accordance to that lifestyle. With those refined values and concerns; getting up early, watching sunrises and sunsets, sharing moments and meals, walking across the land and pausing to take in its unreserved beauty. But I can’t, that’s not the world we live in, it’s there for us when we want it, but the painful reality of coming back home makes me think maybe it’s not such a surprise we’re in such a state of mental disillusionment and global confusion, when simplicity and contentment are scarcely now our greatest goals. Maybe it’s because I’ve come out of it feeling more lost and uncertain than ever before in my life, that my recollection of my days on the Camino is tainted? Maybe I don’t want to believe it included some of the best times I’ve ever had, as that makes the post Camino adaptation easier to transition into. I’m not sure it’s working. So, how was it? Looking back on some diary entries from my trip and reflecting on my memories from those days, it was outstanding. Without a doubt some of the greatest days of my 26 years were had in those 5 weeks I spent walking across Spain. Some of the most incredibly generous and unforgettable people I’ve ever met are thanks to my decision do it. But I, perhaps like others, seem to write more when I’m excited, and less when the going gets tough as a way of avoiding the reality of my state of mind. As much as I would tell myself to drop the expectation of what I was getting myself into, you want to believe it’s going to be awesome, so a part of you does believe it. Though there’s a significant gap of writings in the last two weeks of the walk because it wasn’t the romantic and soul finding experience I lead myself to believe it might be. It was hard. I got sick. It rained, a lot. It was cold. At times lonely. It was heavy. Tiring. Long. Painful. Tedious. But incredible all the same. And the best thing? The thing that stopped me from writing, ensured I kept going, and that has made it hard to settle back into this other life, normal life, is the other pilgrims. You become a pilgrim as soon as you set foot on the Camino, not a traveler or a tourist, a pilgrim, walking the way of Saint James, and so those other pilgrims I walked, camped, ate and shared with, are the ultimate highlight of this epic adventure. The people who I shared those 850kms with; they inspired me and continue to do so, so much more than the landscapes, more than the villages and towns and more than I could have imagined. I would rather talk, share, cook and laugh with them than bury myself in a notebook I’m realistically unlikely to look back on. Many things happened to me on this journey, interesting or otherwise that I could tell you about in the hopes to entertain you, to inspire or educate you about elements of Spain and components of the days I had. Perhaps that would also make you want to get out there, pack your bag and walk. But this isn’t just a travel story full of day to day occurrences; this day that happened and it was hard because then this happened too. More interesting than what happened to me were the people that I met, who would be different from the people you might meet. The setting is Spain of course, and in turn a melodic collage of rugged and dramatic coastline, luscious forests of pine and eucalyptus, offensive mountains with terrible timing, and quaint and classic towns and cities. All beautiful and engaging, but looking back on it, all that beauty was just a setting for some of the most highly valued friendships I now have.