When I arrived at the first hostel, the hospitalero (hostel host) was flirtatiously helping three young women from France. The mood of the room was light until another young lady from Hungary arrived with tears streaming down her face. All attention turned to her until we determined that her tears, running over freckles and framed by red dreadlocks, came from a joyous place. She was emotional about being at the start of the Camino.
The hospitalero advised our small group of pilgrims with broken English. “This ’ees your trip, your life, your adventure,” he said. “Do not make the trip for anyone else. Make ’eet for yourself. If you walk with a new friend and they walk too fast, say goodbye. Let them go. This is your trip. Your Camino is for you.”It seemed a bit selfish but sure made sense a few days into the pilgrimage.
In my life, I have been fortunate to feed my addiction to travel. I enjoy every facet and type of travel including romance, adventure and business. As I reach the half century point in my life, the best memories always seem to center around some experience on a trip. Traveling with a lover, business partner, friends, or family is always good, but the road less traveled is the solo journey.
My first time alone was a bit nerve wracking. The cause is unknown, but there were many moments of insecurity. My ego convinced me to feel like a lone diner in a packed restaurant. Instead of taking advantage of the good fortune, I spent time worrying about what other people were thinking. Age taught me to disregard this idiotic thought process.