Lodging
Part of the appeal of the Camino was how much infrastructure exists for the journey, and how little planning ahead is needed. On the Camino del Norte, I made reservations for a handful of nights but usually I'd walk up to a hostel asking if they had a free bed.
Typical hotels and hostels are available on the trail, but the beauties of my experience happened at pilgrims-only hostels known as albergues. My first night was spent at a municipal albergue, where the host was a bit of a Camino hardo. He almost didn't let me stay there because I hadn't shipped my rolling luggage away yet and he despised everything resembling a tourist. Albergues are a basic way to live, but they're all you really need on the road. The 20, 30, or 40-bed bunk rooms never bothered me. An occasional cold shower was less than luxurious, but my most refreshing shower was a cold outdoor one while it was raining. From the start I knew it would serve me to keep my expectations low.
As a non-religious person, I've had trouble feeling comfortable in churches. But when the first monkiest monk greeted me with noticeable indifference and Keen sandals, I felt welcome. Across the Camino and for a thousand years, churches open their doors to everyone. Thank G*D! I spent four nights in monasteries, listened to prayers, sang songs in Spanish, and even prayed for the first time in forever.
By far the best accommodations on the journey were private albergues. Hosts were proud Spaniards and foreigners alike who graciously converted buildings and homes into shelter for pilgrims. After a long day on the road, a siesta paired perfectly with a communal meal. These shelters weren't just transactional, they were romantic. A few of the private albergues might cost ten, fifteen, or twenty Euros, but an impressive number of them were donativos. Not only were our hosts opening up their homes, but some only asked for a discretionary donation in return. If I'm being honest, I can sometimes be pessimistic about the direction of the world, and these donation-based albergues breathed new positive feelings in me.
To say that albergues are non-traditional can sometimes be an understatement. In a small town just before an albergue, I refilled my water bottle next to some locals. In between telling me how excited they were that I was visiting from California, they asked if I was going to the albergue up the road. The old lady called the owner “el rey”, which means king, and she told me to say hi to him, as she had worked there for fifteen years. So I did spend a night at a cult, but it was a pretty chill one, and no one was asking us to stay after.
Albergues are usually permanent structures, but one of my favorite stays was in a converted wagon. The Camino is a tradition first and a business second. Our host was doing it for the love of taking care of international travelers, and we were luckier for it. Before we went to bed, we were told not to set an alarm because “a message from the forest would wake us up”. I feel blessed that I had the experience of waking up to our host playing a flute.
People
When I landed in Santiago, a Camino friend turned and asked the group “So who believes in God?”. In my experience less than a quarter of people were devout, but you could always turn to your neighbor, ask a deep spiritual question, and expect an engaged answer.
I found out quickly what energies I got along with on this trip. Relaxed pace is the most indicative sign that I'll like walking with someone. I usually walked decently quick, but really enjoyed taking serious breaks. Some people would really take as many coffee breaks as possible, but I heavily prioritized beach naps. I don't think there is a greater thing in the world than sleeping to the sound of crashing waves, day after day.
People say, especially when talking about their partners, something like “life is better experienced with someone”. While the Camino can be a great solo experience, it is also deeply social. The Camino gifted me with a deeper connection to my Grandma's European heritage. Just on my second night, my bunkmate was Lithuanian (where Grandma was born), we celebrated her birthday, we celebrated a Lithuanian holiday that shares my name, and Spain was celebrating that same holiday with bonfires at the beach. Without a doubt in my mind, the stars aligned for that one.
I didn't expect to learn as much as I did from my fellow travelers. Even when English was their second language, fellow pilgrims were so articulate about their life experiences, goals, and what makes them happy. And hearing about the special meanings of the trip was so inspiring. A group of German grandmas had been traveling small legs of the Camino for the last twenty years. A French man who left his front door 2,000 kilometers away to honor a lost loved one. Another man who was so content with his life that the Camino barely changed his days — he lived the same, fully, on and off it. From others, I learned:
- The Camino doesn't give you all the answers, but it clarifies the questions important to you
- It doesn't give you what you want, but it gives you what you need
- To be happy on your own, and only keep partners who truly add to your life
The Spaniards along the Camino are another opportunity to meet interesting, happy, and very beautiful people. I had the fortune to run into a couple at an albergue who were spending a night away from their six children. They lived a few towns away and offered to let me stay with them when we got there. In addition to the home-cooked Basque meal and a place to rest my head, they gifted me my favorite night on the Camino. It was just a Monday night, but over a thousand townspeople of Gernika were watching the children and then their parents play soccer and basketball in the town square. Though this town was flattened during the Spanish Civil War, the energy of a united people shined brightly in community. If my estimation is right, it was over five percent of the town on a Monday and at least it felt that way!
Prioritizing the Spanish culture and food on your walk is important. Especially in July, there feels like there is a festival every week. The most memorable image in my head is celebrating Spain's World Cup victory. We walked an extra long day to watch the finals in the town square of a coastal city. After hours of firecrackers being set off mid game, we danced with Spaniards, faces lit by red flares, yellow flags draped over their backs. Once in a lifetime.
What does it feel like to walk El Camino?
The Camino feels like therapy. You notice the patterns by which you introduce yourself, the topics of conversation you steer towards, and what fills your mind when you're walking alone. Small tweaks to these can change how you feel about yourself and how others perceive you. With countless opportunities to practice, it's the perfect place to notice, question, and adjust.
I was tested on the Camino both physically and emotionally. My first day on the Camino was the notoriously hardest leg of the journey, and I completed it during a record-breaking heatwave. I had a late start after waiting for the post office to open, and I ended up having to help a struggling Russian man get to a road so he could hitchhike to the next town. He actually ended his Camino that day.
My emotional test was staying in touch with what I wanted at any given moment. The Camino constantly hands you opportunities for connection alongside traps that waste your time, and you won't always guess right. My practice became simple: ask what I'd rather be doing right now, answer quickly, then say it out loud — even if that let someone down. As an occasional people pleaser, this was hard for me. It was also incredibly rewarding to take that agency back. For forty days, I chose and invested in myself.
There is a balance to strike between doing what you want, and being open to something maybe a bit uncomfortable, but is something that could turn into something beautiful. Impromptu camping is an example of that. It's easy to justify wanting to sleep in a real bed, even if it is a twin-sized bunk bed, or wanting to have the comfort of a warm shower. But letting go of what you're used to can lead to great things.
In addition to moving from one moment to the next, I wanted to remember my journey. I journaled here and there, but the more intentional practice I chose was to sketch along the walk. I created 22 sketches, some that I hate and some that I truly surprised myself with. But for each of them, I made tons of decisions of how to portray a particular wall, coastline, object, mountain to the next one. And for each of those drawn lines, I have seared into my memory some spatial awareness of that moment. Here are some of my favorite sketches, including the absolute once in a lifetime total solar eclipse that I experienced the day before I returned.
I didn't get to the end of the Camino and cry when I saw the Cathedral. It was the purest life experience I've ever had, but not because of one big moment — it was the consistency of them. Effort, rest, culture, connection, reflection, even prayer, day after day. If you get the sense that everything happens on the Camino, it certainly feels that way.
Just don't expect to come back a new person. You are you — before, during, and after. Appreciate that, and live it up.