New Camino Family

“Stop. Do not sing.”

Only a curtain separated the dining room from the dorm room, housing around 16 bunks. Most of the pilgrims had already retired for the evening, though a handful of us remained sitting around the table. 

I asked Hadrien if he’d sing La Corrida, a beautiful though haunting French narrative ballad telling the story of bullfighting from the perspective of the bull, aware of his imminent death while hearing the crowds cheer in delightful anticipation. 

Hadrien was getting into it and had just reached the first refrain when the curtain whipped open, led by a pilgrim of around 65, who shot us a glance as would an angry father hushing his naughty children up past their bedtime. 

The time was 10:04 pm. Lights out on the Camino is typically 10. Maybe 5 minutes before, Hadrien and I had just finished singing a song together, and I asked him if he would sing one more before bed.

I could see the hurt in Hadrien’s eyes and felt not only empathy but also responsibility, having been the one who requested him to sing. Singing a song you love for friends you care about can be an act of vulnerability, and watching him be silenced so abruptly felt cruel. It was painful for all of us. 

We comforted him, complimenting the music he had created up to that point, and reassured him we’d have another chance to sing and finish the song another day.

Nothing like shared trauma to bond the group together. 

It wasn’t even the only incident at that dinner. I sat towards the center of the table while my friends were gathered at one end to my right. I introduced myself to the pilgrim across the table. 

“Susie?” 

“No! That is not my name. Don’t call me that. I hate that name. It’s Susan.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure I heard you correctly.”

The rest of the dinner didn’t go much better. Susan didn’t engage and generally replied to my questions with single words or short phrases. She asked nothing of me. I tried not to take it personally, but I respected her apparent preference for space. 

I strained to participate in the conversation to my right, jumping in when I could and laughing at the jokes I heard. 

Eventually, dinner broke up. Susan and many others left the dinner table. I took that opportunity to move to the end of the table where my friends remained. Among them was a new face, Mitch, a twenty-something pilgrim from Germany who started the Camino mid-course and had many questions for us. 

Beyond the standard “Why are you walking?”, he invited us to share our most meaningful stories from the Camino up to this point. I shared about my purple medida ribbon from Zaragoza, singing the Ave Maria in Pamplona, and saying goodbye to Erin at the ruins of the Saint Anthony Monastery. 

I learned Hadrien carried to the Cruz de Ferro a stone handed to him by a pilgrim he had met in Saint Jean who intended to leave it there in memory of his lost son but who wasn’t going to be able to complete his pilgrimage. 

Also joining and sharing were Lizzie, Ulrika, and Amelie. 

We all got to know Stef better, who has completed seven Caminos, on different routes, and what he’s gotten out of each. Having completed seven Caminos, Stef’s assessment carried weight with me. He thought the connections our particular group had made, and the experiences we’d shared, were something special.

Around this time, the owner of the Albergue walked by, and he shared how he and his wife met (on the Camino) and their timeline for meeting, falling in love, marriage, finding and establishing an albergue, and raising a daughter, prompted by questions from Ulrika. He and his wife searched for a property they could renovate for nearly a year. They ran it for several years, and then intended to take a year off with their daughter whom they were raising on-sight. They realized they had built a life and the albergue is home. The work is relentless during Camino season, but it’s a labor of love. It comes down to the pilgrims. They make or break each day, though most are great, he explained. Being located just outside of town, Triacastela makes a great filter. 

He seemed satisfied to be able to speak with us for a while and then excused himself to finish tidying up before bed. 

It’s been easy to romanticize the idea of running a little pilgrims’ bed and breakfast on the Camino. I’ve taken photos of various apparently abandoned properties or those listed for sale. I’ve sent some to my friends Michael and Yudi back in San Diego. We regularly entertain the idea of leaving it all behind to build a new life in Spain. I can envision the possibilities while also recognizing the realities of such a life. 

This post-dinner, sobremesa conversation helped bond our group. Mitch couldn’t believe we all met on the Camino. We hadn’t even all planned to stay at this albergue. 

I had reserved a spot for myself the day before, picking it because it was just past the next standard stage of Triacastela and included a group dinner. I needed to gain some ground because of my decision to arrive to Santiago a day early on October 7. I had also told Ulrika my plans to stay here the day before and she followed suit, preferring to know where she would be staying in advance. I also told Lizzie and Hadrien at that time, but they intended to stay somewhere else on a parallel alternate route, also beyond Triacastela. This morning, October 2, at second breakfast, they learned their intended destination was fully booked. 

Lizzie seemed nervous. 

“What’s the number for El Beso again, Jeremy?”

She called. 

“They have space!”

I was thrilled! Lizzie was excited and relieved. She and Hadrien had a place to stay!

Lizzie is a vegetarian and was also pleased to know El Beso is a vegan space, so the dinner would be fully accessible.

She also learned the owner is from the Netherlands, like herself. They recognized each others’ accents, and she ended up making her reservation in Dutch. 

Stef, also from the Netherlands, selected El Beso for himself independently from us, also liking the idea of the group dinner and the description of the albergue, nestled in a green valley of oak and chestnut trees with hammocks under the trees. 

Over the prior days, I was growing fond of walking with Lizzie, Hadrien, and Ulrika, and very thankful we’d be staying together that evening, especially as the Camino was drawing nearer to its end. I also enjoyed the opportunity to get to know Stef better.

Santiago was drawing closer. And the Camino was conspiring to keep us all together.