A German word, meaning “really, really, looking forward to something”
Arriving at the town where it all begins. Probably the first “arrival” of many on the Camino.
Where I learn, that I still don’t like it wet, get really wet, and meet a Wolfshund.
The day I become part of “a great invasion.”
Great food, great company, not so great suburbia.
The rain has stopped, I arrive at the first Camino landmark, and someone steals walking sticks.
More bad news, a picture lost, and a friend gained.
I come clean about my job, and we decide on further steps.
We meet Alyssa and the Swiss again, and have a little time on our hands.
I walk alone. It feels great.
A boy, a cock, and this isn’t anything dirty.
I climb a tower, enter Castilla, and meet an asshole. He does not get punched, which I blame the Camino on.
An amazing evening.
A massive Haribo Gummy Bear hunting caribou
There is nothing boring about this part of the Camino.
We meet Eva.
Something massively shit happens, someone gets badly hurt, and we don’t know if they can continue.
I am taking a bubble bath.
The middle of the Camino Frances.
We get a certificate for not giving up before reaching the mid point.
We have become a Camino Fable.
We meet Eva in Leon
A day in a big city
It rains. And we meet a cop.
“I have an idea,” Inga greeted us in the morning, having slept in a different room. Eva’s and my room had been loud, two snoring
Inga was angry. Throwing her backpack onto a bench outside the albergue she dug grabbed, hurled, things, mumbling. “I can not find my pill,” she
We left early again, despite the day’s short distance. We ate breakfast outside our albergue at the “Cowboy Bar,” a Camino original, and made quick
We rose at four, Eva and Inga a little less awake than me, and packed in silence after quietly celebrating Eva’s birthday. I’d procured coffee
I don’t know which wild donkey rode me, but I am sitting in Las Herrerías, 39 kilometers from where I started this morning. Today is
Eating the last power bar from my backpack and drinking water from the tap, too tired to get dressed and visit the local bar, I
I was right. Inga wanted to ride a horse up O Cebreiro. Eva demurred and we went to see Victor early in the morning. No
Eva was the first to be awake and went for coffee in the common rooms, Inga followed, while I slept, happily, until woken by both,
Ginny woke us with coffee at five. I wanted to sleep but, apparently, this was what Eva and her had agreed on. It was still
Despite waking early (Ginny being our alarm clock) and leaving before sunrise, we now were surrounded by pilgrims. It seemed that, until Santiago at least,
Inga left around 3am and, fractions of a Camino-second later, Eva arrived. “I had a nightmare,” she whispered, “and Inga is not in her bed.”
We write our names on bottles of beer
Ginny did her wakeup call routine at half to six in the morning, jumping on Eva’s and Inga’s bed until both rolled out, grumbling but
The hotel drove us back to the bridge the next morning, and we continued our Way towards the ocean. Behind Negreira, we entered a ladscape
“I hope you’re not mad at me,” Ginny revealed at breakfast, “but I’ll come with to Finisterre and then make my own way to Muxia.
We didn’t leave at seven. Or at eight. It was almost nine before Alyssa and Eva emerged, Ginnyclock notwithstanding. Last night’s drinks had taken a
“Bye guys,” Ginny grabbed her backpack and her walking sticks, opened the door and was about to leave, when Inga and Eva tackled her one
The sun had set, only a few rays remained. Above us, the lighthouse sent its greetings into the distance, and soon we found ourselves the
My things packed, I left the albergue an hour after the girls. Along the still dark houses of Muxia, a light drizzle tickling my skin,
Maybe you are curious what happened to all of us. For me, the Camino changed many things, and I am writing this from Munich, mourning