The Camino: Expectation vs. Reality

Before walking the camino, I thought I knew what to expect and planned my trip accordingly. As it turns out, my journey was filled with surprises - The good kind.

An ancient Greek philosopher once said “know thyself.” Exactly which philosopher uttered such wisdom is up to debate, but they followed it with “nothing in excess” and “certainty brings insanity,” which makes me think whoever said it once benefited from a pilgrimage experience, but I digress. The point is that I know myself pretty well. Like everyone else, I have ingrained traits and values, a bundle of idiosyncrasies and things that make me tick. I recognize these aspects of myself and I’m generally (unfortunately?) stuck in my ways. And then I took a long stroll and discovered that perhaps I don’t know thyself as well as I thought.

Throughout my camino, I was surprised over and over again. I’m not suggesting a fundamental shift in personality, don’t worry (or do?). I remain fast-paced and mostly-introverted and I continue to be picky about those I keep closest to me and treasure my alone time. Rather, the changes I refer to are along the lines of small habits and ways of going about one’s day. The little things, if you will. But also some big things. While walking, I was privy to delightful little surprises, like suddenly becoming a bundle of sentimentality (big thing), or taking a liking to classical music (little thing). We’ll call these happy “expectation vs. reality” scenarios.

I’m a far cry from a Greek philosopher, but if you’re planning your own camino, perhaps you will find bits of wisdom to take away. Even if you have no intention of going on a long pilgrimage, may this be a reminder that while we may know thyselves, there is always room for a surprise or two, or ten.

Green pasture framed by ferns and mountains in distance

Music & Podcasts to stave off Boredom

Expectation

I expected to regularly listen to music and podcasts to keep the monotony of walking at bay. In preparation, I even created a specific playlist with songs recommended by friends. The idea was to put the playlist on shuffle and, when their song played, text the person that recommended it and share a picture of where I was walking when I listened to it.

Reality

I never once was bored, and I say that very sincerely. Yes, I listened to music and podcasts, but not as much as I thought I would. In fact, during the final days of my Camino, I realized I only made a small dent in my recommendations playlist. Near the end of my walk, I tried to hustle through it but gave up.

If I found myself on a long stretch, especially on endless pavement, I was more likely to pop headphones in - and thank you Smartless podcast for keeping me sane and laughing on those soul-crushing days. Yet even on “boring” flat sections, I felt at liberty to zone out and simply think or observe my surroundings. When I did listen to music, I had a few playlists I shuffled through but I was surprised to find myself dabbling in classical music as well (Max Richter, you gem), which was a fun surprise. Overall, I preferred the quiet and to listen to the natural sounds around me.

Hiker stands on grassy cliff overlooking the ocean

Busy trails

Expectation

To be surrounded by people.

Reality

I was mostly surrounded by livestock, namely cows. This is in no way a complaint, in fact, I’d file this one away as an added bonus.

Private Rooms

Expectation

Wanting to stay in as many private rooms as possible.

Reality

Don’t get me wrong, it is downright wonderful to have a private room to recalibrate in. There’s nothing like having a safe space to walk around naked, clip your toenails in peace, shower for 30 minutes without worrying about a line of people waiting and to sleep without a snoring bunkmate. Sounds swell, right? Well, each time I booked a private room at a small hotel or hostel, which was about once a week, I experienced a pang of desire to have stayed at the local albergue instead (“albergue” being a sort of pilgrim hostel).

Did I really prefer to sleep in a 20-person room of bunk beds and wake up to the cacophony of alarms at 6:30am? Why yes, yes I did. Trust me, as someone who values their own space, none of this makes any sense to me either, but it is what it is. Sure, albergues are a bit cramped, but nothing says “spirit of community” like comparing blisters, sharing a wash basin, and scooting someone’s intimates over on a clothesline so that you can hang your own beside right them.

If I were to do it again, I’d stay in as many albergues serving communal dinners as I could. I found that shared meals, which were overwhelmingly fueled with cheap wine and laughter, were a wonderful way to interact with other pilgrims. They are also utterly delicious.

Rest Days

Expectation

For my five-week walk, I planned one rest day a week.

Reality

I only took two rest days: one in Bilbao to see the Guggenheim without being rushed and a second in the medieval hamlet of Santillana del Mar to let my blisters have a much-needed day of rest. I skipped Oviedo, Lugo and the extra day I planned to take in Santiago at the end.

When planning my trip, I thought I’d want more time to decompress and relax but, much to my surprise, it was quite the opposite. Instead, the idea of a rest day made me absolutely restless. My body had adjusted to walking each day and I felt the urge to move. In hindsight, the surplus of caffeine consumed at all hours of the day may have had a hand in this... In any case, my twenty-or-so miles of walking usually wrapped up in the afternoon, providing plenty of time to explore town (“town” often being a generous word for what we were working with) and this still left time in the evening to rest.

Overall, I’m glad that I only took two rest days during my walk. I’d even gander to say that one would have sufficed. And if I were real smart cookie, I’d plan to have that rest day within walking distance of a beach.

A bowl of olives and a red drink sit on a table outside — *Post-walk drinks in Lugo*

Large modern art pieces at the Guggenheim Museum in Spain — *“The Matter of Time” by Richard Serra at the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao*

A table filled with breakfast food overlooking Spanish hills — *A glorious breakfast on a rest day in Santillana del Mar*

Large Cities

Expectation

I anticipated wanting to explore big cities and to relish in the abundance of restaurant options and stores on offer. I also thought I would want to have rest days in large cities so that I could spend time visiting historical landmarks and cathedrals in between stints of relaxing at coffee shops.

Reality

Instead of being excited to arrive in a big city, I actually found myself overwhelmed by them. Entering a large city felt like being dropped into a blender of bustling people, zipping transit and an atrocious number of restaurants to choose from. It was jarring to suddenly be surrounded by more people than cows, and I wasn’t a big fan of it.

Most cities I stopped in weren’t even that large but I had grown accustomed to small villages where there are only one or two bars in town. When you entered one and said you wanted a beer, they just started pouring what they had. In big cities like Bilbao, or even not-so-big cities like Laredo, I had to use my noggin more and actually make choices, which apparently is just asking far too much. In the end, skipping rest days in large cities wasn’t a big deal. As it turned out, coffee shops and cathedral visits were in high abundance all over the camino and I saw a lot both each day as it was. Like, a lot a lot.

Repetitious & Mundane Introductions

Expectation

When traveling, I sometimes want to hand a person a notecard of all the questions I know they are going to ask. My name is Caitlin, I’m from Washington. No, not Washington, D.C., Washington state. What do I do? I recently quit my job. Yes, it has been nice not to work. I’ve been traveling for x amount of time, yes I love it, and I will be going to x place next.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand the simple concept of having conversation in order to get to know strangers, yet it can feel so surface level, contrived even, and it grows exhausting to repeat your mini-autobiography. I feared I would be doing this everyday on the camino.

Reality

On the Camino, you already have common ground with people. We all found ourselves in the middle of Spain following a bunch of yellow arrows for an arbitrary amount of time in the dead of summer, so usually that was talked about first and foremost.

I also quickly learned that no one cared about the mundane things and it was absolutely glorious. Well, they cared, but it wasn’t top of mind. The first question people usually asked was “where’d you walk from today?” Which was often followed by, “are you going all the way to Santiago?” Sometimes we’d exchange names or where we are from, and other times someone would ask about your job (or in my case, lack thereof at the time), but these were usually secondary. Sometimes I never got a person’s name at all. Most often, we discussed our experience from a day of walking or talked about where we were heading next, both of which would lead to tangents and stories and laughter. Camino conversations turned out to be very easy and enjoyable, much to my relief.

Booking Ahead

Expectation

Needing to book places in advance to ensure I got a bed for the night. Since I was walking at the busiest time of the year, with two years worth of pent-up post-Covid pilgrims walking, I didn’t want to run the risk of being turned away if an albergue was full. Being told to keep walking after twenty miles? No, thank you.

Reality

I found that booking ahead was both helpful and a hindrance. On long walking days, it was helpful to have a place booked so that I didn’t have to stress about rushing for a bed, or what we pilgrims eloquently call a “bed race.” It was also helpful to book ahead in large cities since August is a busy time and places can sell out. It was a hindrance because it limited my options. For example, if I were walking with friends, they may stay at another albergue or even in a different city than where I booked a place. There were also days that I felt physically able to walk further, but instead I had to stop because I’d already reached the place I booked.

During my walk, I stayed in a variety of places: cheap albergues, boutique hostels and small hotels. It was rare to run out of bed options and if it did happen you just figured it out. You can often email or text an albergue a few days ahead of time to reserve a bed, which is the happy medium option. You can find hostels and hotels online last minute as well (booking.com was my savior). This is how I would do it each night if I were to do it over again.

A row of bunkbeds — *Bunkbeds in a large communal room in an albergue*

A building with clothes hanging from it — *A wonderful albergue with small rooms with patios*

A hotel room with a large bed and window — *A private room in a small hotel in Santillana del Mar*

To Be a Happy Hermit

Expectation

To walk alone and to prefer it that way.

Reality

Did I suddenly emerge from my warm cocoon of solitude and become a social butterfly? Absolutely not, let’s not kid ourselves. I did, however, make several friends and ended up walking over half of my camino alongside companions. And get this: I enjoyed it immensely. Let it be known that I also loved my alone time, but overall I preferred walking with friends.

A group of friends raising their drinks at a pub

To Despise My Hiking Wardrobe

Expectation

To get tired of wearing the same sweat-soaked clothes over and over again for seven weeks straight.

Reality

Who would have known that it would be absolute bliss to have only four shirts to choose from each day? You simply smell one and think, “good enough, let’s roll,” and off you go to walk another 15 miles. Then you wash that outfit and wear your other one the next day. Then switch, then switch again. Easy peasy! I didn’t care what I looked like or that I had no real variety in what I was wearing. When you sweat in it all day and everyone around you is in the exact same boat, your clothes lose all sense of importance. (As they should.)

In total, I brought four shirts, one loose dress, two pairs of walking shorts, a pair of loose hiking pants, jean shorts, and a zip-up jacket. Typically, I would wash my clothes in a wash basin at the albergue each day, then once a week I’d throw it all in a washing machine to do the real job. For me, it was the perfect set-up: two hiking outfits, one post-hike/town outfit, and a few items to throw on when it got cold (and it did - don’t let the idea of “sunny Spain in August” fool you). Now that I’m home, I’m a bit overwhelmed by my closet, though I’m sure that feeling will fade eventually.

Update: the feeling has not faded, I remain vastly overwhelmed.

Travel clothes and toiletries laid out on the floor — *Everything I brought with me to Spain - though some items pictured I ended up not bringing at all*

What I Would Take Away From the Camino

Expectation

It would be a nice, long stroll across Spain. Full stop.

Reality

I took a mental and physical journey that filled me up, wrung me out and turned me into a blob of emotions. I felt like the Grinch when he realized his heart had grown three sizes and he rolled around in agony yelling, “help me, I’m feeling!” Emotions are weird, but here we are.

Traveling Post-Camino

Expectation

To enjoy a slow transition out of Spain by traveling for ten days between ending the camino and returning home.

Reality

Nope, did not like. Would not recommend.

If I were granted a do-over, I’d have done all my travel before the Camino. I wouldn’t have minded a day or two post-camino, but not ten. For me, existence after the Camino was disorienting. I had spent five weeks walking in sunshine and pumping out endorphins, so to suddenly stop doing that felt like going through small withdrawals. It messed with my head. I felt sad at losing my community of camino companions (say that five times fast) and the routine of my days. I think I would have preferred to feel that at home rather than in another new place. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the cities I visited afterward (Porto, Seville, and Granada) but my heart was only half in it.