So, I don't have a dog in this fight (conversation?), and I approach this as a total newbie, very much looking forward to my first Camino (141 days - but who's counting??) There are so many things that can feel really intimidating when planning this journey. Do I have the time I need to dedicate to this endeavor? Do I have the financial resources? Can I realistically take time out of my "real" life? (Turns out, this is my real life...) Why is anyone crazy enough to do this? And then there are the myriad questions from friends and loved ones when you finally say out loud that you're going to do this thing. They may fear for your safety, they'll certainly miss you, maybe they don't want you to go for any number of their own reasons. But, with over three years of planning under my belt at this point, I do have a few thoughts... (And I make a living talking and expressing thoughts and ideas, so...)
It's so easy, while planning, to get caught up in other people's struggles and impressions. Like, am I strong enough, fit enough to take the Napoleon Route over the Pyrenees? Can I really carry this crazy backpack all the way across a country? Will the pain I'm experiencing in my foot today derail my journey in 4-something months? I'm such a light sleeper, can I tolerate the snoring in albergues? What about the food - will I find what I like and need? There are so many things to worry about, and be afraid of, or be sidelined by. But the thing that I look forward to is, well, all of it. I've learned a few things about myself over the years - struggle has a tendency to make me stronger - mentally and physically. The so-called "ugly" bits make me appreciate the beautiful parts. The rude people, and the hordes of teenagers (I deal with a lot of them at work), make me appreciate the quiet kindness of someone else. And when it's all said and done, no matter where I've begun, or where I've ended, knowing that I completed my journey has often been the most rewarding part.
I've been fortunate enough to sail across oceans, I've traveled all over the world, I nearly died in a third-world country, and I've absolutely lived my best life in some of the most amazing places in the world. And all of that has made me exactly who I am. It's all a part of the story we write about ourselves. A friend of mine always reminds me: bloom where you are. It's easy to look over the fence and say: it looks better over there. But finding the beauty in struggle, and pain, and darkness, just makes the brightness of light all that much better.
Over the last few years, I've watched way too many Camino vlogs, and what I've discerned from all of those is that everyone's journey is different. One person may despise the Meseta, and for another it might be their favorite part. Some folks thrive in the chaos of crowds, and some can only tolerate solitude. In the end, my plan is to try to take the good with the bad, if there is such a thing. Take the hard with the easy. Take it all to the best of my ability. And bloom exactly where I am.
Here's to the perfect Camino - whatever that means...
Stina