Dates: May 5-31, 2018
Route: Irun to Santiago de Compostela, Spain
Distance: 823.3 kms
Walking Days: 27
Average Distance/Day: 30.5 kms/day
Longest Day: 40.3 kms
Shortest Day: 20.7 kms
Irun to San Sebastián – 26.5 km
It was perfect hiking weather today as I left my pilgrim’s albergue in Irun to start my Camino journey. It was cool, cloudy, and there was a complete absence of rain and bugs. The terrain was varied – forest paths, mountain roads, and cobblestone streets – and never boring. The views were to die for.
I walked for a half hour or so from Irun up into the hills to Santuario de Guadelupe, a 16th-century church overlooking the Bidasoa Valley. Apparently, in 1638, when nearby Hondaribbia was under siege, the Virgin of Guadelupe protected the town for 69 days.
From the church, the route split and I opted to take the more difficult path that led to the summit of Mount Jaizkibel. I’m glad I did, because the Bay of Biscay coastline could be seen all the way up to France. It was stunning.
The air was filled with the sounds of birds, streams, wind, and cowbells, and the trail was littered with ruins of defensive towers from the Middle Ages.
The descent into Pasajes was long and steep, so I know I’ll feel the ache in my quads in the morning. In Pasajes, part of the Camino trail includes a ride across the port in a pedestrian ferry. Cost: 80 cents.
The best parts of the day involved people. I met some delightful new friends from Germany, Spain, Canada, and the US. The pilgrim camaraderie here certainly is excellent.
I finished my day at an albergue in San Sebastian, a popular surfing town, where I gobbled down a bar of Swiss chocolate to celebrate a successful Day 1 on the Camino.
San Sebastián to Akzizu – 26.7 km
Ten minutes after leaving my albergue in the early morning, my heart was pounding from the steep climb up the hills west of San Sebastián. At the crest, my efforts were rewarded by a startlingly gorgeous sunrise. I really just wanted to sit and stare at it all morning.
Today’s route through forests and fields was quite muddy. Many of the ascents and descents were along paths imbedded with boulders, which were very painful on the feet, but which were necessary to prevent erosion.
After walking alone for most of the morning, I met up with some new friends – Birte from Germany and Vytas from Lithuania – and we popped into a cafe for a cafe con leche and a chocolate pastry that was so large, it hung over both edges of my plate. Mmm.
Vytas is a recently certified massage therapist, who had spent nine years in Ireland working as a gardener. He has opted to walk the Camino before he starts his first massage therapy job.
Birte speaks so passionately about her favoured sport, surfing, that I realize I’ve never felt that way about any sport myself in my whole life. I’ve loved playing soccer for so many years and I would say that I love hiking, but I’ve never felt about them the way Birte describes how she feels about surfing. It’s encouraging to hear people speak about something with such joy and passion.
Much of our late morning walking was in view of the beaches at Zaroutz. The descent to the beaches from the ruins of San Martin was particularly spectacular, walking down hundreds of steps to the boardwalk. The beach is so large that we followed the promenade around it for over six kilometers.
We would have liked to stay in Zaroutz, since that was the end of a stage described in our guide books, but the hostel was full. It was a weekend in a tourist surfing town after all.
We walked to Getaria to try our luck, but the hostel didn’t open until 3pm. As we waited, many other pilgrims arrived who we had met the first day. I particularly enjoyed the company of Greg and Kaitlin, a couple in their late twenties from Seattle. They’ve been married for five years, but you’d think that they’ve just started dating. They have that sweet expression of love in their eyes when they look at each other. It’s wonderful. And they’re very good with the banter, which I have missed. “You have to learn to keep up,” says Kaitlin with a smile.
Not wanting to wait until 3pm, six of us carried on another two kilometers to the tiniest of villages called Akzizu, where we checked into an albergue and enjoyed our first communal pilgrim dinner – three courses with wine – on the Camino. Such a delightful walk, filled with some solitude mixed with camaraderie. I’m elated, and it’s only been two days so far.
Akzizu to Ermita del Calvario – 20.7 km
I was awake and gone from the albergue before anyone else had woken up. I’m a morning person and my Canada walk seems to have got me in the pattern of waking at 5:30, despite that I’m in a different time zone. It’s okay though, because I’m always in a position now to experience the Spanish sunrise. And starting early gives me two or three hours of solitude before I meet up with my traveling companions.
Today, I waited for them in the Basque village of Itziar, where I had just bought food from the tiny grocery. I waited in the shade for a half hour, snacking on fruit and nuts, watching the proprietor of the cafe across the street buy an armful of baguettes, then watching her go through the process of opening the cafe for the day, unlocking the tables and chairs, placing them carefully around the courtyard, and preparing the coffee machine. The village was coming to life. And when my friends, Birte and Vytas, arrived, I was delighted that they wanted to go for a coffee too. We weren’t satisfied with just one coffee, though, so in the next town of Deba four kilometers away, we went for another cafe con leche and pastry at the local bakery. Such civilized hiking.
There was no avoiding the mud today, however. The trails through the woods were entrenched with it from recent rains. And the thorny bushes hugging the trails on both sides made it virtually impossible to bypass the mud, so I carefully stepped in the footprints of those who had passed before me to reduce the amount of mud that seeped into my hiking sandals. It was great fun!
We are stopping for the night in the tiniest of communities called Ermita del Calvario, which seems to consist entirely of the pilgrim’s hostel in which we are staying. When asked if I wanted to have the pilgrim’s meal tonight, I considered that there were no other restaurants within a reasonable walking distance and that I would probably have to dine on raisins and peanuts, so I said yes to the communal meal.
Birte and I finished the 21-kilometer day by 12:30 and chatted with an Israeli father and daughter hiking team for an hour while we waited for the rest of the group to arrive. We are all together again now. Kaitlin says she loves the camaraderie. The discomfort of struggling up and down hills with blisters and fatigue makes it feel like we are all in this together. I concur with Kaitlin. We are in this together.
Ermita del Calvario to Monasterio de Zenarruza – 26.0 km
I notice many things on this walk – the feel of the mist on my skin, the smell of the forests, the beauty of spring meadows, the sounds of the birds, streams, and cow bells. The sound of distant church bells.
What is more difficult to notice, but which may be more important to the journey, are things that are absent, such as the sound of traffic in the morning, and the absence of biting insects. The bugs may yet arrive this spring, but today there are none.
What I noticed today, however, was an absence of pain. We rarely think about pain when we are free of it, but I noticed it today. With all of the hills I’ve been climbing and descending, I fully expected to be suffering from sore knees and quads. But it just isn’t so. I don’t even have any blisters. By the end of the day, my feet ache a bit, mostly the result of treating them poorly with large daily distances on the Canada walk, but the ache stops almost immediately when I stop to rest. It’s beautiful to be pain free and I’m very grateful for it.
I’ve stopped in a little outdoor cafe in the town of Markina-Xemein for a cafe con leche, tortilla and bread, and a giant chocolate-covered pastry. I’ll wait here for some of my new friends to catch up. It’s not that I walk faster than them; it’s just that I’m ready to leave earlier in the morning and it gives me a few hours of solitude.
Markina-Xemein has had a rough go of it since it became a border post in 1355, built around a fort. The town was born in conflict, and continued to be wreaked in havoc by Napoleon, and during the Carlist Wars and the Spanish Civil War. Today, however, it is more famous for producing champions of the court game called pelota, which seems to be the national sport of the Basque people. Markina-Xemein is now called the University of Pelota.
I wandered into the Sanctuary of San Miguel de Arretxinaga; a hexagonal building founded in the 11th century around three Megalithic stones that seem so precariously balanced that one becomes nervous walking under them.
Birte caught up with me for coffee and we walked the last seven kilometers together to the Monasterio de Zenarruza. Five monks still live here, and in addition to providing accommodation to pilgrims (known as peregrinos), they produce craft beer for tourists.
We are nine pilgrims, from Canada, the United States, Germany, France, Latvia, and Lithuania. We all attended mass together with the monks and then they served us a giant pot of vegetarian noodle soup, with bread and wine. Such great conversation at the table and wonderful camaraderie. And the monks are such great hosts. A perfect day.
Monasterio de Zenarruza to Eskerika – 27.0 km
The forest was alive with the sounds of birds as I climbed the hill outside the monastery in the early morning mist. I had the trail to myself for the first couple of hours, walking through some of the nicest landscapes I’ve ever had the privilege to experience – rolling hills, forest, and fields of so many shades of green, Crayola wouldn’t have enough words to describe them all. Houses with orange clay tiles dotted the landscape, and cows, horses, and their newborns clung to hillsides. It was beautiful hiking.
I took a wrong turn in the city of Gernika and ended up floundering around side streets for 15 minutes. When I finally got my bearings, I could see Birte way ahead of me. I ran to catch up, after which we attended to our daily ritual of finding a cafe with excellent coffee and tasty pastries. Birte has a degree in nutritional science, so if she says it’s okay to eat pastry every day because of the distances we are walking, I take that as gospel.
At the top of a hill outside Gernika, we were delightfully surprised to find an enterprising young woman selling food, beer, and coffee from her doorstep. We were drawn in by the sign that read Santiago 710 kms. We were making progress.
I ordered a coffee, which was terrible, but I didn’t care. I was happy to sit and immerse myself in the sights and sounds of the proprietor’s homestead. Birte chatted in Spanish with the woman’s grandmother, who is 87 years old, while I cuddled with the family dog that was walking with a bad limp after a car had run over her front leg. Poor girl.
The city of Gernika is known to us primarily because of Franco and Picasso. Franco was under pressure because of the stalemate of the Spanish Civil War, so he focused his attention on Basque country, using the German Air resources at his disposal to attack Gernika. In 1937, on market day, saturation bombing was introduced by the German Condor Legion. The town was pummeled by incendiary bombs, and then as the civilians fled on foot, they were strafed by a second round of plane attacks. Picasso was so angered by this attack that he painted ‘Gernika’ as a warning of the savagery of the fascist militaries.
Eskirika to Bilbao – 25.8 km
I wasn’t on the trail an hour this morning before I was lost in the rain. I hadn’t seen a way marker since I left the albergue at 6:30, and my guide book was a poor resource to put me back on track. I checked my map on my phone, which it turns out is no small feat in the pouring rain.
It took a while to figure out where I was and then much longer to find even a single town along the way that was also indicated in my guide book. When I finally got my bearings, I realized that if I failed to find a way marker, I could still get to my destination by highway if I had to.
I was reunited with the way markers in Larrabetzu, where I learned that I actually hadn’t lost the trail at all that morning. It had just been poorly marked.
In the end, all tension was relieved after a cafe con leche and a chocolate pastry with Greg and Kaitlin in the village of Lezama.
There was plenty of road walking today, but I didn’t mind because of the rain. The few sections of forest trail were thick with mud, and one had to be careful not to slip on the steep downhills. Indeed, one of our French companions went for a spill and later proudly showed us the mud stain on his backside.
I arrived in Bilbao after descending stone steps for 800 meters. I was glad to be going down them instead of climbing them. In the giant courtyard at the bottom of the steps, I sat in the emerging sun and people-watched for a couple of hours until Sylvia arrived, followed shortly thereafter by Greg and Kaitlin. Our friend, Birte, seems to be AWOL. She didn’t show up at coffee, so I suspect she somehow passed me in the morning when I was floundering around lost.
Sylvia has an interesting story. She’s walking to Santiago de Compostela, having started her Camino way back in her hometown near Freiburg, Germany. She walks for a couple of weeks every year during her vacation and expects it will take her eight years to finish the Camino. We struggle to communicate, but manage somehow with a smattering of English and German.
I’m in Bilbao for the night now. The city is huge, with about a million residents in the metropolitan area. It’s the largest city in Basque Country. So far, however, the city has been uninspiring. The cathedrals I have passed have been locked and gated, and the convent that looked interesting is not only inaccessible, it cannot even be seen from the street. The city is very industrial, supported by iron mining, forestry, water power, steel mills, and shipping.
So far, it seems like the best entertainment options in Bilbao are to walk along the Ria de Bilbao to enjoy the local architecture and to sit and watch interesting people walk by. Walking and people-watching – two of my favourite activities in any city.
Bilbao to Castro-Urdiales – 40.3 km
I was more impressed with Bilbao this morning than yesterday evening. I opted to take a longer route out of the city, following the Ria de Bilbao on the east side for about nine kilometers to Portugalete.
I had a full hour’s walk along the river, passing parks and interesting architecture, before I ended up in the industrial area. I passed apartment buildings where low-income residents hung laundry from their windows in narrow alleys that might only see the sun for an hour per day.
Buildings seemed to be in poor shape with crumbling walls and damaged foundations. A school yard was surrounded by a twenty-foot fence and covered completely in asphalt, with nary a blade of grass to be seen.
Close to Portugalete, I came across the aftermath of a bad crash. A small car had run into the back of a truck and was so damaged, it’s hard to believe anyone survived it. The somber moods of onlookers and police officers were quite sobering. A reminder of how short life might be, and to be thankful for and embrace each day.
To get from Las Arenas to Portugalete, I crossed the river on the famous Puente Colgante, a bridge that hangs from wires about 20 meters over the water and moves from one bank to the other like a gondola. It can hold about a hundred passengers and six vehicles.
In Portugalete, the route follows the streets on a steep uphill, but the city has installed moving sidewalks, the type seen at airports to move people along more quickly. Such an easy way for pedestrians to get up the hill, and once again, I thought, what civilized hiking this is.
I walked alone today under beautiful skies for over 40 kms, stopping only twice to eat. For breakfast, I had tortilla, pastry, and a coffee. For lunch, I had tortilla, pastry, and a beer. It’s, er, important to try different foods from time to time.
In the village of Onton, I passed from Basque Country into Cantabria, stopping at its first major city, Castro-Urdiales, where I explored some ruins from a Templar castle. The route of the Camino leads up a stone staircase to the Parish Church of Santa Maria de la Asunción, one of the finest Gothic churches on the Camino del Norte. I would have loved to enter the church to see the famous cross from the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, but unfortunately, like most of the churches I’ve seen along the Way, it was closed.
I met Anna, a retired woman from Denmark, who is doing her third Camino. She has some pain from walking, but she says, “Pain is temporary, proud is forever.”
I also met a woman from the United States who shall remain anonymous. One of her many tattoos reads in big bold letters “NOW HERE THIS”. I wonder if she even knows it’s spelled wrong.
Castro-Urdiales to Laredo – 30.0 km
I’m sitting in an outdoor cafe in Laredo, enjoying a second breakfast of cafe con leche and a croissant. I’m a bit chilled from the wet and cold weather. Walking the ridge from Castro-Urdiales to Islares in the rain, straight into a nasty cold headwind, wasn’t the least bit pleasant. The rain has stopped, but the sun is still hiding. The sidewalks are full of consumers carrying their purchases in brand-name bags, and the cafe is busy with those seeking a respite from window shopping.
I’m happy to put this day of poor weather and endless walking on asphalt behind me. I’ll meet up with Vytas later for plenty of wine, beer, and some laughs. We’ll both need it.
Laredo to Guemes – 30.0 km
I got away a little late from the campground this morning and ended up running most of the three kilometers to the ferry. The first boat to Santona was at 9 am and I didn’t want to miss it. I was rewarded for my efforts by a beautiful rainbow that descended down into the city.
The best part of the morning was the delicious breakfast I had in a cafe in Santona. Coffee, tortilla, and a giant pastry covered in chocolate. When I was finished, I walked out into the rain and the weather remained miserable for most of the rest of the day. The rain would come in waves, heavy, with a nasty ice-cold headwind to back it up. I dare say that some profanity may have passed my lips this day.
I was reunited with Birte, Greg, and Kaitlin at the famous Albergue La Cabana del Abuelo Pueto in Guemes, home of the priest, Ernesto Bustio, who is probably the most famous person on this Camino, and who was recently awarded a medal by the King of Spain for his humanitarian work.
Ernesto is 80 years old and grew up as a working priest, that is, he not only had duties as a preacher, he also worked with his hands at a normal job, and he continues to work today. His three main programs are a youth program, a humanitarian project in Senegal, and the Camino pilgrims (peregrinos), whose donations finance the other two projects.
Tonight, there are 62 pilgrims staying in the albergue, from 15 countries. I count five Canadians: a couple from Toronto, me, and two young women, one from Vancouver and one from Quebec City. Ernesto says that normally the largest group is represented by Germany, but on this night, there is a large group from France.
Ernesto talks about the Camino of Life, a philosophy that is much more important than the Camino del Norte. He still travels extensively, having just returned from a trip to the United States and Canada, where he was promoting the Camino and his other programs.
All 62 pilgrims ate together at a communal dinner, prepared and served by Ernesto’s team of volunteers. Such a fine group of people they are, supporting this great pilgrimage.
Guemes to Boo de Pielagos – 30.7 km
There are a few routes out of Guemes to Santander, capital of Cantabria. The short route saves five kilometers, but follows the asphalt highway. I opted to take the coastal route, and I’m glad I did. The views were stunning, so nice in fact that it did not bother me that I had to walk the entire coastal path through mud.
It was simply unavoidable and may have been a great opportunity to try walking barefoot for a while. Coming down from the cliffs, I enjoyed a beach walk all the way to the ferry in Somo.
I love this Camino del Norte, where ferries are part of the official route. Tomorrow, we’ll need to take a short train ride to cross a river over a bridge on which pedestrians are not allowed to walk. Taking the train for this distance is part of the official Camino route.
We escaped the rain today, barely it seems. But the sun is shining now brilliantly, so all of the guests in our little albergue in Boo de Pielagos have hand washed their clothes and hung them on the clothesline to dry.
Boo de Pielagos to Cobreces – 31.6 km
There are five of us at the albergue in Cobreces, Spain, sitting out in the sun journaling, with a view of the ocean to our front and white-tipped mountains to our rear. Nobody knows exactly how far we walked today. Way markers that included distances between towns were not consistent with the distances in my English guide book, which were also different from the distances in Birte’s German guidebook. I’m guessing by the number of hours we walked that we covered a little over 31 kilometers.
The entire route today was on asphalt, which wasn’t fun, but it was a nice day, with periods of full sun, which felt nice on the skin. Normally, I would walk for a few hours alone in the morning, but as our little band had to catch the train for a short distance from Boo de Pielagos to Mogro to cross a bridge on which pedestrians are not allowed, we all ended up walking together for the day.
We stopped a few times: once for coffee and tortilla in Viveda, once to explore the town of Santillana, and once to visit the 18th-century Church of San Martin, which was, much to our surprise, open to visitors. The church is a spectacular stone structure with a Baroque facade and two giant towers flanking a central arch. I spent an extra-long time inside because Ave Maria was playing over the speakers. Such good music for the spirit.
We were all quite pleased with our visit to Santillana Del Mar, a picturesque medieval village built out of stones. In the Middle Ages, many of the townsfolk became wealthy from their wool and linen production. The philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre, called Santillana the most beautiful village in Spain, and while I haven’t seen every village in Spain to compare, I agree with Sartre that the village is quite spectacular. The town has recently become a tourist mecca, with souvenir shops filling the ground floors of nearly every home in town. If I had come here only twenty years ago, those ground floors would have been filled with cows and other barn animals.
We had a fun time in Santillana. A group of French tourists took an interest in us while we were sitting on a stone bench eating cookies and pastries. They oohed and aahed over our commitment to the pilgrimage, wanting to talk to us about our experiences so far and to take our photos. For a few minutes, our little band of pilgrims was part of the tourist draw to Santillana.
Cobreces to Colombres – 38.6 km
Stepping outside my albergue in the early morning mist to check on the weather, my bare foot landed squarely on a big fat slug. That was the start of my day.
It got better, though, despite walking in the rain for the first three hours. I liked it in Cobreces and wasn’t in a hurry to leave. It’s not a spectacular town, but it’s comfortable, like home, situated at the top of a hill overlooking the fields and ocean.
Behind the Church of St Peter ad Vincula is a monument to pilgrims. It isn’t the most beautiful of monuments, more an image of a pilgrim cut out of a sheet of metal, but the thought and work to build it is greatly appreciated.
The church itself is quite striking from a distance, with its pastel red colour and prominent towers. But this Neo-Gothic church is falling apart. Up close, you can see the paint is peeling off the outer walls, the foundation is damaged, and the graffiti artists have started to make a mess of it. The church looks quite dreary up close, even more so in the rain.
In contrast, the Cistercian abbey of Viaceli right next to the church, with its fresh-looking sky-blue exterior, looks fabulous. Even the grounds are esthetically pleasing with all the blooming flowers. It’s almost as if the religious leaders of each structure were competing, with the leader of the abbey winning by a landslide.
The walking today was okay, but not particularly memorable. Most of the route was on asphalt and when it strayed off the highways, the views were limited. I took at least one wrong turn, noticing that a few pilgrims followed me down the wrong path, but I probably didn’t add much distance before making my way back onto the official route.
I stopped for a coffee and tortilla in Serdio, but none of my friends showed up after a half hour. Not knowing whether they were behind or ahead, I carried on to Colombres.
There are quite a few pilgrims on the Camino now. On a long hill, I passed about 15 people I had never seen before. And the albergue in Colombres, which has 120 beds, is full for the night. Compared to the first week, when most of the pilgrims looked younger and fitter, I’m now seeing an older cohort of pilgrims, many of whom have already completed a camino, primarily the Camino Frances or the Camino Portuguese.
I saw Vera on the trail today, probably for the last time. She is a fascinating 30-year-old Rotterdam resident, who quit her job as a marine lawyer to cycle the coast around France, Spain, Portugal, and Italy for four months to raise money for the ocean clean up. Her joie de vivre is infectious and instead of using words to express her thoughts, she uses funny dramatic expressions. For example, instead of saying “the rain was annoying”, she says, “the rain was aaahhhh!” And she opens her eyes wide and throws her hands wildly into the air. I laugh, she apologizes for her gestures, and I tell her never to change. Such an adorable personality.
I’m reunited with Birte, Greg, and Kaitlin after a day of solitude. The wine is poured, the chocolate has been consumed, and we’re catching up on the details of our day. Tomorrow, we want to stay in a town called Poo, just so we can say we did.
Colombres to Playa de Poo – 26.2 km
Good walking today, almost entirely off the asphalt. Cafes were more plentiful and the views were excellent under sunny skies.
I stopped at the Bufones de Arenillas, large cracks in the rock cliff, in which the waves from the Bay of Biscay can erupt up to 20 meters high. Alas, the sea was calm today, so the spouts of water were not spectacular. Still, the view was amazing, so I dropped my pack among the rocks, sat and ate a chocolate bar, and enjoyed perfect solitude and serenity until a handful of pilgrims caught up to me and followed me off trail to explore the bufones.
There was a single tall tree up on the cliffs, which looked like an excellent antenna to send positive messages out to the universe. I grabbed the trunk with both hands and sent healing energy out to Flo, a young German man we met this week on the Camino who is suffering from poor health.
In Llanes, Birte and I took an alternate route that was described in her German guidebook and which diverted from the Main Street to follow the sea cliffs out of the city. The views were splendid and my feet were happy to be walking on grass. Birte asked for directions a few times from some locals because we didn’t want to accidentally walk past our destination of Playa de Poo.
I’ve stayed in Boo, and now I’m staying in Poo, which would be a lot funnier if they both rhymed with too. Unfortunately, they rhyme with toe.
On the downside, my feet ache like the dickens and I have a couple of new blisters. I’ve caught a cold, for which I picked up medication from a pharmacy. But now I feel an ear infection coming on. Grrr.
Playa de Poo to San Esteban de Leces – 32.6 km
Milestone today: I’m halfway to Santiago de Compostela on the Camino del Norte. My feet enjoyed a smorgasbord of surfaces to walk on today: wooded trails, gravel roads, stone walkways, highways, grass, and even wooden slats.
I walked nearly the entire day with Birte from Germany. I didn’t get my usual 20-minute head start on her this morning, so she was able to catch up to me after an hour when I took yet another wrong turn. Birte is very focused and has a strong pace. She is friendly, slowing to talk to other pilgrims we pass on the Camino, but then she’ll say her goodbyes, refocus, and then set off on her fast pace again. She’s good company. We can walk for hours only saying a few words to one another, and then we can chat up a storm for an hour without a pause. Birte is new to the language, but speaks Spanish fearlessly, having improved considerably since we started the Camino two weeks ago.
We passed a couple of abandoned monasteries today, one of which the guidebook says is accessible to the curious pilgrim. But when I got to the Monasterio de San Antolin, there were large no trespassing signs, so I opted not to enter the grounds.
One of the highlights of today’s walk was seeing the picturesque Iglesia de Nuestra Senora de los Dolores (Parish of Our Lady of Sorrows) just outside Barro. Seeing the parish and the village reflected in the lagoon was fabulous.
We walked through many small towns today, but it wasn’t until we reached Nueva that we found an open cafe. Within a half hour, Birte and I were joined by Greg, Kaitlin, and three other pilgrims, all women, and all traveling alone. One is from Holland, one from Italy, and a young woman named Docoma, which means wanderer, is from Germany. Docoma is taking her first solo trip at age 22 at the suggestion and encouragement of her mother. Docoma said she has had some anxiety on this solo journey, but is managing okay. Like me, she is quite introverted, but the Camino has caused her to meet and talk to many new people.
Birte and I looked at an expensive albergue in Ribadesella, where Greg and Kaitlin have rented an apartment for the night. But 21 Euros seemed pricey and it was still early, so we pressed on another 5+ kilometers to the Albergue de Peregrinos in San Esteban de Leces, a much smaller and quieter albergue. It looks like this place is part of a much larger religious structure, with an excellent garden in the back in which to relax and listen to the birds and distant cow bells.
San Esteban de Leces to Carde – 30.1 km
It was a splendid morning when I left San Esteban, already warm at 6:45 am, although clouds hung low over the mountains to the south. The Way followed interesting terrain, up rocky and muddy slopes, often with a view of the ocean, dipping down through forest paths and inevitably through sleepy little villages.
It may have been Saturday, but it seemed to be a working day for village residents. In groups, they were cleaning up the long grass on the edges of pathways and roads. I was delighted to see the community working together on its own behalf.
I lost the trail a couple of times today. One set of way markers took me off the main road to a dead end, where I started down a gravel path which didn’t seem to be going in the right direction. So, I backtracked and cut through some bushes back to the main road, where, lo and behold, there was another yellow flèche. Crazy. At one point, I was so far off the trail that I needed my map app to point me in the right direction.
Birte nearly caught up with me before I took yet another wrong turn. But in the end, we both ended up meeting in Colunga for a coffee and pastry, which was the plan. After that, I followed Birte, who isn’t nearly as directionally challenged. She carries her German guidebook almost constantly, so we rarely miss a turn on the Way.
We stopped at a small albergue outside Villaviciosa, which was not advertised in either of our guidebooks. I hesitated to come here because the trail turned downhill at a point where we had to climb a long steep hill to get to the albergue. I looked at Birte and said, “What do you think?” She smiled and said, “Come on, let’s climb the hill.”
I’m glad we did. Our hostess, Monte, is simply adorable and loves pilgrims. She once worked in the tourist industry and now lets the travelers come to her. For the first time on this Camino, I have a double bed separate from the bunk beds. It’s paradise. And there is a dog here with an unpronounceable name who seems to find me good company. Chickens wander freely about the yard and a couple have been curious enough to come and check me out. When Monte played her guitar in the yard, the chickens gathered around because, I assume, they also love her music. One chicken nestled in close to me and let me stroke her back. It sure is a good life.
Carde to Cabuenes – 24.7 km
One of the highlights of this Camino that will be etched in my memory forever is meeting Monte. She is as delightful and generous a human being as I have ever met and it would be a joy for anyone to stay at her albergue. This morning, she came downstairs and joined the pilgrims for coffee. She was so full of enthusiasm for our journey that it was infectious. When I was about to leave, she reached out her arms to me. “David, David”, she said, hugged me tightly and then kissed me on both cheeks. She sure knows how to make people feel important.
Birte and I got away late, since we were having so much fun with Monte and it was to be a shorter walking day. The walking went by easily and the conversation was great. We climbed a terrifically long hill up paved roads, dirt paths, rocky trails, and back to paved roads again before we finally crested the mountain, and then we were blessed with a view of the ocean and the city of Gijon in the distance. The weekend cyclists were out in abundance and I gave every one of them climbing the hills a thumbs up. For me, it’s one thing to walk up those steep trails, but I don’t know that I’d ride a bicycle up them, especially just for pleasure.
Just before Cabuenes, Birte and I found a cafe on the hillside. We ordered coffees but were hoping for a pastry too. The host told his boss we were looking for something sweet and the boss suggested, perhaps, a torte. Yes, that would be splendid. But when the server brought the cake to our picnic table, the huge plate was filled with four different types of cake, including a fabulously delicious chocolate mousse. We were in heaven. I actually paused to give thanks to the universe for this beautiful moment.
After filling our bellies, it was only 850 meters downhill to Camping Deva, where we paid seven Euros for a bed. Birte and I were the first pilgrims to arrive for the day. And here I am now, showered, with my washed socks and underwear drying in the sun, drinking a liter-sized bottle of cold beer. Mahou Clasica. So good. Such a wonderful life. So thankful.
Cabuenes to San Martin de Laspra – 40.1 km
The day started fabulously. While returning to my room from the public washroom at the campground, I came across a hedgehog. It’s the first one I’ve seen in the wild. I went back to grab my camera, but my new little friend was gone when I returned.
Birte and I walked together for over 30 kilometers to Aviles, passing a couple of pilgrims who asked her why we were walking so fast. “Are you in a hurry?” No, this is just our comfortable pace. We stop regularly for coffee and pastry, so we’re not in a hurry to get anywhere.
In Aviles, we grabbed a beer and waited for Greg and Kaitlin, our friends from Seattle. We weren’t sure we wanted to stay in Aviles or continue to an albergue in San Martin de Laspra nearly eight kilometers away. We opted for the latter.
For most of the day, we walked along busy highways through industrial areas. The guidebook says it’s the worst section of the Camino del Norte. None of the other pilgrims we met along the way was happy about it. Some parts of the highway lacked a shoulder and some of the corners were blind because of heavy vegetation. It was loud. And it was dangerous.
But this last section to San Martin de Laspra was mostly along a forest path, which was quiet and easy on blistered feet.
We passed a milestone today by completing over 500 kilometers of the Camino del Norte. A little over 300 kilometers left to Santiago de Compostela.
San Martin de Laspra to Soto de Luina – 33.3 km
I wasn’t the first person awake and out of bed this morning. There was a Spanish fellow who wanted to get an early start because he doesn’t walk very fast. He was out the door shortly after 6:00am, but then the poor fellow was back a half hour later. He had forgotten his walking stick.
The trails were excellent this morning, mostly through forests and up and down quiet village streets. I stopped in Myron de Nalon for a coffee at what has to be one of the best little cafes on this Camino. They do something with their tortilla, adding olive oil perhaps, that makes it extra yummy. And their pastries are so good, I went for seconds. The seating area for the cafe is across a street in a large town plaza, so servers have to look both ways before delivering food to patrons. I was surrounded by unfamiliar trees that connect to each other through their branches. They make me think of how I am connected to the people in my life, and how they are connected to others.
Birte caught up to me at the cafe, and then Greg and Kaitlin joined us shortly after. Kaitlin is a professional pastry chef, and she was suitably impressed, not only with the quality of the pastries we were eating, but also the low price. Birte was in a particularly good mood this morning. She absolutely detested the walk through the industrial area yesterday, but a good night’s sleep, today’s trails, and the excellent cafe have raised her spirits.
After breakfast, we all walked together to El Pito, and then after a huddled discussion, we opted to leave the Camino and explore the coastal village of Cudillero, long known for its fishing vessels, but now a tourist mecca.
Cudillero is right on the Bay of Biscay, but is built tight between two mountains, so the access road is a steep downhill along a narrow street, sometimes under overhanging balconies. From a distance, it looks like the houses built on the slopes are standing one on top of another. Those houses are not accessible by car, so residents must climb the steps, sometimes with groceries in tow, to reach their abodes.
We all ended our day in Soto de Luina, a village at the bottom of an inland valley. Today’s trails have been some of the best we have seen on this Camino. Such peaceful, quiet, and scenic walking today. Very grateful.
Soto de Luina to Luarca – 36.0 km
Grainne is a 54-year-old traveler of Irish descent. Yesterday evening, she regaled me with stories of her travels. She speaks of energy, dreams, and freedom. She decided on impulse to walk the Camino after seeing the yellow arrows in the surfing city of San Sebastián. She had tried walking the Camino Frances a few years ago, but after walking the first day from St Jean Pied de Port through the Pyrenees, she was so sore and tired that she quit. Now, she’s back on a different Camino trail and taking it a bit easier, walking about 14 kms per day. She has come here, she says, to figure out what she should do next in life. She’s a dreamer and doesn’t feel grounded. She doesn’t even feel that she has a home. Before this trip, she was cat-sitting in a house in Berlin. Before that, unhappy in Paris for the last seven years. I think the Camino will provide for her. She’ll figure out what to do next in life.
The day so far has been all hills, down a forest path, across a creek, back up the other side, a short walk through a village, and then repeat. I’ve stopped in Cadaredo after walking more than 20 kms. It’s only 10:30am, so I guess I was pretty focused this morning. I’m surrounded by pilgrims I have never seen before in a cafe right along the route.
Everyone has got either their guidebook or Camino app open. This is the end of a stage, but it was a short one. The next stage is only about 15 kms long, so everyone is probably trying to decide whether to stay in Cadaredo or to carry on walking.
A small bird is caught inside the small grocery store near where I am sitting. It’s trapped between the window and the laundry detergent. A customer reaches in and catches the bird in her hand. She comes to the door, whispers something to the bird, and releases it into the air.
Birte, Greg, Kaitlin and I went out for beer and pizza tonight. We usually make supper at the albergue, but tonight we wanted someone else to cook us a hot meal. The gentleman who served us has a tattoo of his son playing soccer, with an eye pictured above the boy as if watching. The tattoo also shows a pair of soccer cleats that the man had worn when he was a boy himself playing soccer in Argentina. He is so incredibly proud of his son, and of how he is portrayed in the tattoo.
Luarca to La Caridad – 31.0 km
The sun made an appearance for precisely six minutes, enough time for me to lather on sun screen, before it disappeared again behind the haze, which hung over the countryside like a veil. The walk today lacked scenery, but the conversation was splendid.
We only have 214 kilometers to go to Santiago de Compostela, or about eight days. It’s been a heck of an experience so far, but how could we express it to friends back home when they ask about it? Greg and Kaitlin took time off work to walk the Camino. When they go back, their co-workers will ask them about their experience. How was the Camino? Was it worth taking time off work for it? What was it like?
And what are Greg and Kaitlin to say? How can they summarize a month-long pilgrimage into such a brief conversation as is required in the workplace? Any attempt would simply marginalize the experience. The ups and downs, the challenges, the fears, both real and imaginary, and overcoming them, the heat, the rain, the discomfort, the pain, the feeling that the walk is bloody difficult but also that there is nothing else they’d rather be doing at that exact moment, the way the Camino has connected them as a young couple, how it has solidified their marriage when it could just as easily have destroyed it, the anguish of blisters, the generosity of complete strangers, the anxiety of knowing you’ve lost the trail, the joy of finding it again, the gratitude for a cup of coffee on a cold wet morning, and the sheer joy and yes, bewilderment, of being alive.
And we haven’t even reached Santiago yet. How might they express that upcoming experience?!
Chris Guillebeau, author of The Happiness of Pursuit, was interviewed many times after he completed his goal of visiting every country in the world. Inevitably, interviewers would ask him, “How was the experience?” It was a question Chris struggled to answer. What do you say about a project that took you fifteen years to complete? But one understanding interviewer said, “Chris, I know it’s impossible to summarize your project in one interview, so why don’t you share a couple of your favourite stories about your adventure with our audience.” It was exactly what Chris needed.
And perhaps that is all we will have too for our friends and co-workers – a few anecdotes about our journey. And then encourage them to go on a pilgrimage of their own. It could be life changing.
La Caridad to Vilela – 28.5 km
I’d barely left the village of La Caridad this morning before I lost the trail. My head was down, I was daydreaming, and I missed an obvious marker for a left turn. I merrily walked straight onto a beautiful forest trail, thinking to myself how fabulous the trail was for the Camino. I didn’t see a trail marker for a while, but that didn’t worry me because I saw lots of footprints in some mud, much as I had seen many times over the last few weeks. I was a happy boy.
But then the trail narrowed and I found myself crawling over a couple of logs and walking painfully through thorny bushes that hung over the trail. Something was wrong. I consulted my guidebook and, sure enough, I had missed a turnabout a kilometer back. I retraced my steps and made the correction.
I think I would have been fine with that one error, but a dozen kilometers later in the village of Tol, facing a choice of two routes, and unwilling to pull my guidebook out of my pack in the pouring rain, I opted to follow the route called Camino. I felt sure the route was the normal route that would take me to Ribadeo, where I would meet up with my friends for coffee.
How wrong I was! I followed the path for more than a kilometer in the cold rain and nearly walked past a Camino kiosk. These kiosks usually describe things in the area and are written in Spanish. Given that it was raining, I was about to pass it by, when I suddenly felt compelled to go read it. The kiosk showed a map of various Camino routes and as I looked at them, I realized I was on the ancient trail heading to Vegadeo, which would have completely bypassed my destination of Ribadeo. My heart sunk. I had done it again. I had taken the wrong route.
My phone map, which was nearly impossible to manipulate in the rain with wet fingers, showed me there was no shortcut to my destination. I had to go back the way I came.
So, I’ve added four kilometers to my day and missed coffee with my friends. I took a chance that they would skip the albergue in Ribadeo because of the early hour and head to Vilela, another seven kilometers further on. And that’s where I found them.
It wasn’t all bad today. I ran into some pilgrims from Quebec and New Zealand who I had met the night before at a pilgrims’ dinner. They were great company for that last stretch to Vilela.
And I experienced some real Camino magic today. In Ribadeo, I went into a sports store to look for a pair of rubber tips for my hiking poles. Although I love to use the poles, I avoid doing so when walking through towns or when walking on asphalt with my friends because the clicking sound can be annoying. The young man in the store said that they don’t sell the rubber tips. But as I turned to go, he stopped me, pulled out a new pair of hiking poles, removed the rubber tips, and handed them to me. “Free,” he said, with a smile. What a great trail angel! Even when things are not going your way, there is still amazement around the corner.
Today, crossing the bridge over the Ria de Ribadeo, I stepped into Galicia, the final region on the route to Santiago. The route turns inland, so I bid adieu to the coast.
Vilela to Mondonedo – 29.0 km
I walked for the first four hours today alone in the rain, which was just as well because then no one could hear me whining about it. The route was easy to follow, the trails lovely, albeit hilly and muddy, and the views pretty much non-existent. I spent my time singing Robbie Williams songs and making a list of 500 things I’d rather be doing than hiking in the rain. For fun, I made another list of things I hate more than hiking in the rain. But since I only came up with a single item – winter camping – the exercise was over quickly.
I stopped for coffee and cake in Lourenza to wait for my friends and was entertained by Daniel, a pilgrim from France whose English was excellent. He both looked and sounded like he came from London. Daniel works as a chef of French cuisine, but has been walking the Camino from Toulouse, France, for the last two months. He’s taking his time, enjoying frequent rest days and some short 5-7-kilometer walking days. He bought a pair of comfortable hiking boots just before starting his Camino, but within a few days, they started giving him such problems that he lost both nails on his big toes. Reeling from the pain, he went to see a doctor in Spain. She asked him why he has been wearing women’s hiking boots.
My friends caught up to me in Lourenza and we walked the last 8.5 kms together to our perfect little albergue in Mondonedo. Along the way, we enjoyed some humour when a dangling thorny vine caught my hat and gently lifted it off my head. To see my hat hanging above the trail sent Birte and I into fits of laughter.
Our albergue tonight is excellent – great beds, laundry, hot showers, and even towels and sheets. Yesterday’s 5-Euro-per-night peregrino albergue in Vilela was a little sparse on the extras. Even the local bar up the lane, the only bar in town, was unable to serve us food despite their advertised menu. So, eight of us pilgrims pooled our groceries together and had a picnic in our albergue. There were only three chairs in the 34-bed room, so some of us sat on the edges of beds or stood to eat. It was a grand cuisine experience, not a five-star meal to be sure, but uniquely satisfying in the company of fellow pilgrims.
Our friend, Pip from New Zealand, started her Camino in St Jean Pied de Port in France, since she intended to walk the more popular Camino Frances. But on the day that she started, another 1,260 other pilgrims were also starting. The competition for beds was extreme, with some people leaving at 4am to try to get ahead and grab a bed before the albergues were full. Pip made it to Pamplona before she was fed up with the crowd and took the bus to Bilbao to walk the Camino del Norte. 1,261 pilgrims in one day? Lordy! Glad I finished that Camino last year.
Mondonedo to Vilalba – 35.8 km
We avoided the rain today simply by walking away from it. We hadn’t seen a single vehicle or human for more than two hours climbing the hills outside of Mondonedo. Even passing through the tiny hamlets along the way produced not a single person, despite the presence of barking dogs and feral cats. It felt like Birte and I were walking through ghost towns, except that there were curtains hanging in the homes we passed by. It was so quiet I sometimes spoke to Birte in a whisper.
We opted for a longer route today, which was recommended by our host at the albergue, and which added three kilometers to our distance. The views were spectacular – long deep valleys, hill tops, eucalyptus forests, and more colors of green than we have names for. The eucalyptus trees are not native to Spain. They were brought here and thrived so well that they are a threat to the native oak trees. We particularly enjoyed the old buildings and tiny horreos that seem unique to this area.
We were hoping for coffee in Gontan, but when all three cafes were closed, Birte and I sat on a curb and ate bananas and cookies. Satiated, we walked up the next hill only to find an open cafe, where, of course, we dove into our third breakfast of the day. There, we were joined by Greg and Kaitlin and said hello to a few pilgrims we have seen from time to time along the Camino.
There haven’t been many pilgrims along the route since the trail split with the Camino Primitivo. In fact, I haven’t seen a single Camino cyclist since then. Yesterday, there were only eight people at our albergue in Mondonedo. So, you can imagine my shock when we rounded a corner outside Goiriz to find a string of pilgrims, more than 30 of them, walking the trail ahead of us. It was a pilgrim traffic jam!
Something snapped in my brain and my introverted self focused inward and walked straight through the lot of them, leaving my poor friends far behind. When I arrived in our destination city, Vilalba, I stopped and sat on a bench to wait for my friends. When they arrived, I apologized. “I couldn’t handle the crowd”, I explained. My friends were empathetic. After having been walking so long in relative solitude, they too had felt overwhelmed by the masses.
It’s Sunday in the Galician city of Vilalba. And nothing is open, not even a grocery store. We’re talking about dinner. If we can’t find a restaurant we like, we’ll have to pull our groceries together, which will mean a meal of cheese, bread, sliced meat, nuts, honey, and a bag of Fritos. Luckily, the vending machine at the albergue has beer.
I was sure I had bought a bag of peanuts yesterday, but I couldn’t find them in my food bag. I reached far down into the side pocket of my backpack, thinking I had put them in there, and my fingers went right through a rotting banana. Ewwww! How could a banana have hidden itself so well in my small pack?
The route markers in Galicia are unique. Each one provides us with the remaining distance to Santiago. 120 kilometers to go.
Vilalba to Carballedo – 28.5 km
The dogs were barking so aggressively that we suspected they had never seen a pilgrim before. That’s how Birte and I knew we were on the wrong trail. Thankfully, it only cost us an extra kilometer.
It was quiet today. We knew it was rush hour when two vehicles passed us within a couple of minutes. The trails were excellent, taking us along comfortable paths through eucalyptus and pine forests, over ancient bridges, and through hamlets with stones fences so old that the forest has taken them back. Many of these little hamlets were identified with unique wooden signs printed in yellow paint. I loved them.
We were so blessed to see a phalanx (yes, I’ve been waiting forever to be able to use that word) of storks. I’ve seen individual storks before, but never more than one at a time. It is said that a village that has nesting storks will have luck that year.
At the albergue in the forest of Carballedo, my friends suffered through cold showers. I opted first to meditate (aka have a nap) for an hour and was rewarded with hot water for my shower. Add some chocolate, a beer, and the charming company of four pilgrim women from Slovakia and Bulgaria, and you know I’m having a perfect day.
Carballedo to Sobrado Dos Monxes – 31.4 km
There were a lot of cats at the albergue yesterday, more cats even than people. Not feral cats, but domesticated. It’s obvious the owners love their cats because they’ve posted special signs for motorists to drive slowly in the area.
It’s been a quiet day, mostly walking through forests in the haze on this overcast day. I saw the odd farmer working the fields and plenty of dogs and farm animals. But because of the rain, views of the valley were non-existent.
We’re closing in on Santiago, with only 60 kilometers, or two days walking, to go, and I feel my thoughts turning inward. I walked alone today for 25 kilometers before I found a cafe that was open. The proprietor was delightful. She stamped my pilgrim passport, knowing I will need two stamps per day for the last 100 kilometers to Santiago to claim the pilgrim certificate. Her coffee was excellent, as was her English, and she insisted I sit and relax while she warmed my tortilla and brought my food to my table. Such a kind woman.
Birte joined me shortly afterward and then Greg and Kaitlin joined us an hour later. It was a nice long 90-minute break in the company of friends.
I’m in a private albergue in Sabrado Dos Monxes. There are 28 beds here and it looks like it’s full. Most of these pilgrims are new to me, so I wonder where they’ve been all this time. Where have they stayed these last few nights that I would have missed them?
Tomorrow morning, the Camino del Norte will connect to the Camino Frances in Arzua. I expect we’ll see quite a few new pilgrims then. The trail will become congested.
One of the highlights of the day was walking through the hamlet of Marcela. It’s very small and I didn’t see anyone there, but it has the honour of being the highest point on the Camino del Norte at 710 meters. It might not seem so high, but there have been many, many hills on this route. By the time we get to Santiago, we will have climbed over 12,000 meters, more than 3,000 meters higher than Mount Everest. Kinda cool!
Sobrado Dos Monxes to Salceda – 33.0 km
It’s been a bit of a strange day with me having such a wide variety of emotions, happy one minute and sad the next. We’re one day’s walk from Santiago and I want to just experience whatever comes my way without trying to influence it. I’ve been particularly sensitive today – to the smells of the forest, the joy of companionship, the tastes and textures of coffee and chocolate, the feel of the hiking poles in my hands, the colours of the landscape.
Today, we passed through the city of Arzua, where the Caminos Frances, Norte, and Primitivo meet. There were a lot of pilgrims wandering around town, but they thinned out considerably after we left town and started walking through the fields and forests.
We went into a tourist shop in Arzua so that Birte could replace her broken flip flops. My goodness, the kitsch for the Camino has started. It’s amazing how creative people can be to produce such a vast array of products with the Camino flèche or shell – Camino sandals, patches, glasses, spoons, tea cups, key rings, socks, stickers, pins, ornaments, gourds, figurines, and, well, you name it and it’s been produced with the Camino symbols. It was shocking, especially so because we haven’t really seen much Camino kitsch at all on the Camino del Norte.
We’re sitting with a German woman in the kitchen of our albergue in Salceda. It’s 5:00 pm and she’s trying to book a bed at an albergue five kilometers outside Santiago. The albergue is fully booked, that is to say, all 370 beds have already been reserved for tomorrow night. Unbelievable. For our little band of four, we managed to reserve some beds at a private albergue about 500 meters from the cathedral in Santiago. We were lucky.
Tonight, we will go eat at a restaurant and enjoy our final communal meal before we reach Santiago. The wine is likely to flow.
The highlight of the day is that I had churros for the first time, and dipped in chocolate to boot. Churros are deep-fried pieces of dough, covered in sugar. So bad….and yet sooooo good.
Salceda to Santiago de Compostela – 28.0 km
We made it to Santiago de Compostela! Woohoo!!
Birte, Kaitlin, Greg, and I walked the entire last day to Santiago today as a group, meeting over 100 pilgrims on the way, who had merged onto the Camino de Santiago from various trails. We weren’t in any particular hurry, stopping twice for coffee and pastry, once just in time before the rain came down.
The Camino for the last 30 kilometers is brilliant, mostly following wide forest paths, with the aroma of eucalyptus hanging over us like a veil. So lovely.
We weren’t accustomed to seeing so many pilgrims. And although the trails were generally quite wide to accommodate them, things became congested as we came to the narrow sidewalks of Santiago.
I was excited as we neared the famous cathedral of St James, mostly because I knew my friends were going to see it for the first time. When we arrived, we spent some time in the courtyard taking photos and chatting with other pilgrims. We collected our compostelas (pilgrims’ certificates for completing more than 100 kilometers of the Camino), checked into our albergue, and wandered around town, visiting the information centre, the cathedral, and indulging in the best that the Santiago bakeries and pubs had to offer.
Our Lithuanian friend, Vytas, who had been injured and fell behind by a couple of days, made a heroic effort to catch up by walking a 50-kilometer day followed by a 40+ day. When we met him, he was with Priska, an Indonesian woman we had met a couple of weeks ago. She was suffering pain from bed bug bites and struggled to sit properly.
We all attended mass at the cathedral at 7:30pm and were able to witness the priests swinging the famous botafumeiro (a large thurible) over the crowd, with its burning incense permeating the air. In medieval times, the botafumeiro was intended to revitalize tired pilgrims and disguise their odor.
There was a lot of joy in the air around the cathedral. Limping pilgrims with compostelas were smiling, tourists were chatting and laughing, people were snapping photographs, and children skipped across the courtyard. The city seemed as light and happy as I felt myself.
