9 Learnings from the Camino

when small moments count

“When setting out on a journey, do not seek advice from those who have never left home.”

— Rumi

The upheaval of constant movement – right now, every few days, different countries, continents – can make my days feel like a blur. Big events are easy to remember. I’m more intrigued by small details that can get edged out, dropped in my memory for the more glamorous showstoppers. Yet those little moments often add most to the fullness and richness of life. These seemingly fleeting episodes can end up being the most enduring, the most revealing and ultimately the most helpful.

One constant I’ve had through these days has been reconnecting with camino friends. By all markers, these should fall under the “fleeting” category. After all, I met them in a time of transition, both literally and metaphorically; it would seem to be the least stable setting for making lasting connections. Yet, despite the actual duration of the meetings (anything from one hour to two weeks), their impact on my life has been immense.

Here are nine seemingly small details from the camino that helped me understand life a little differently:

1. The conversations we have with each other while walking can be deeply personal, so if I want to draw and write about someone in my camino diary, I always ask for permission before I capture anything they said. One pilgrim, who incidentally shared the most personal and vulnerable of stories, gave blanket permission for me to write anything I wanted. I hadn’t realised until that point that I too could move through the world having nothing to hide.

2. When I first heard about the camino from my dear friend Anne, it sounded like an alien concept to an un-athletic, not-outdoorsy person like me, and I couldn’t imagine being able to do such a thing myself. I remember this every time I want to do something but it seems too challenging, weird, or wild: every overwhelming endeavour can be broken down and attempted.

3. One pilgrim told me about the moment they realised they were with the wrong partner: the two were at a place with a spectacular view and the partner sat with their back to it. I still think of the tiny decision one person made and what it revealed to the other. Perhaps we instinctively understand that how we do one thing is indeed how we do everything.

4. Many people do the camino as part of a group. Sometimes one person in the group dares to separate and walk on their own. It’s often triggered by a small triumph – they book an albergue by themselves, they learn to read a map, they have a coffee alone – that leads to an awakening of sorts, a realisation that they can have an individual identity and become their own person. I saw this with people in their 20s and also in their 60s (and one in their 70s), and it’s always beautiful to witness.

5. I once saw a pair of pilgrims walking together, pausing frequently and passing a phone back and forth. As I passed them I realised that they didn’t speak the other’s language but were clearly invested enough in each other to use Google Translate to communicate (I found this romantic and adorable). A while later, I saw them at a fork in the path, where the woman wanted to go one way and the man was insisting on going the other, getting rather pushy about it. Later in the day, I saw the man eating lunch – alone. Being aggressive doesn’t need a translator.

6. Sometimes the friendships I think will endure end up fizzling out, while the least likely blossom. I’ve met people at crowded dinner tables where we barely spoke a direct word, but they reached out months later and, unexpectedly but gloriously, a new kinship has developed. This has happened enough times for me to realise it’s more common than I might have realised, though I have a theory that this only occurs when I/they are fully present in that moment, even if it’s for an hour.

7. There are times to keep at something, and times to give up. Learning when to do which can be the biggest lesson of all. (I wrote about the tough vs the toxic in my book.)

8. One of my biggest inspirations came from someone my darling friend Janet met; this woman had done her first camino at age 60 and decided to do one every year. When Janet met her, she was 86 years old and on her 26th camino. I mean!

9. This says it all:

   

   This photo was taken at Casa Susi in Trabadelo. Susi and her husband Fermin remain one of my most beautiful and inspiring meetings on the camino.

“One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.”

— Henry Miller

Recommendations

FILM

How wonderful to see Wim Wenders back with a film, and one so exquisite at that. Perfect Days is a Japanese–language film set in Tokyo about the daily life of a toilet cleaner. The tiny details that enrich his life is a lesson for everyone. Kōji Yakusho won best actor at Cannes last year for this beautifully moving performance.

NOVEL

I’m a huge fan of Richard Osman’s series about a group of British pensioners in a retirement home who solve murder mysteries; the books have humour and heart in equal measure. The fourth and latest, The Last Devil to Die, is as captivating as ever, and insightful for people (like me) who believe daily mundane trivialities are boring. The most moving part of the book shows the power of consistency and longevity in love and commitment.

PODCAST

A comedy duo are preparing to be on the biggest TV show of their time; it changes their life but not as they expected. Act Three of episode 568: Human Spectacle of This American Life is both hilarious and profound. I don’t want to say too much about it as the reveal is the best part. Listen to this segment on their website here.

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Thank you with all heart for the lovely reviews and feedback on My Illustrated Camino Diary! You can see inside the book and where to purchase it here. 🙏