Managing Expectations

Twenty-eight Days and 411 Miles on The Way

“For a while, I was researching the towns I was walking into, and I was sure I knew exactly what it was going to look like. I was wrong every time. I stopped researching and just showed up,” David from Australia said yesterday as we walked in the rain. Yesterday’s walk was unusually difficult. It was only 23 kilometers, yet the damp air and the constant rain kept me cold all day. I couldn’t get comfortable until I made it to my Albergue in Fonfría which was warm and had a healthy dose of hygge.  David and I were walking on a stretch of the Camino where Castillo y Leon ended and Galicia began. Terrain and weather had changed dramatically since la Meseta, and as we reached the top of the ridge in O Cerebreio, we, and the other peregrinos, were greeted by a man playing the gaita, an instrument that looks like bagpipes to the untrained eye, but is not the same as bagpipes. Apparently, the gaita and a guy named Carlos Nunez are a big deal here in Galicia.

I can’t count how many times I have thought or said, “I didn’t expect that,” over the last four weeks. The Camino continues to surprise me and my fellow peregrinos. I never expected to utter the phrase “only 23 kilometers” when referring to a day’s walk and mean it. I never expected to know the difference between a gaita (which I didn’t know existed until about a week ago) and bagpipes, yet here I am. I didn’t expect to ditch my trusty Keen hikers for a pair of bright Wham! Wake Me Up Before You Go Go pink/coral shoes that I bought halfway through the Way and absolutely love.

I thought I came into this Camino without expectations. That was wrong. Of course I had expectations, whether they were explicit or not. I had expectations of what this walk would be like based on my life experience, biases, beliefs, etc, even if I didn’t consciously think I was carrying them. The interesting thing, though, is that my Camino experience is so far outside any of my prior experiences that my implicit expectations are wrong. Super wrong. Almost every time. My frame of reference was too limited to put over this experience. So, I am constantly surprised.  I am not alone in that feeling either.

David from Australia was surprised at how much he missed his family.

A guy I met in the laundry room of our Albergue yesterday was surprised that he was doing laundry for the first time in 67 years. He said his wife would never believe it. “Let me take your picture doing laundry,” I said. Who knows, doing laundry may be his Camino Miracle.

As we left Fonfrio this morning, Patrice said, “I thought Fonfrio would be bigger than it is.” I nodded. I did, too. Based on what? I don’t know. My own made up ideas of how something is going to be.

Twenty-six years ago, when my son was one, I flew from Massachusetts to Chattanooga, TN to attend my friend Monique’s wedding. On the plane, I met a woman who was the mother of a ten year old and eight year old twins. A true parenting veteran in my mind. She described parenting as “so much better than I could have expected and a little bit worse.” I have thought about that comment dozens of times over the 27 years that I have been a parent, and it still holds true. Parenting was something that my then frame of reference could not hold. It was too big and too wonderful and a little bit worse than anything my mind could conceive of.

I look at the Camino, twenty-eight days in, the same way.

Walking this far has stretched my frame of reference in ways I couldn’t have imagined, because let’s face it, walking across Spain with everything you need on your back is not anything I could have wrapped my head around before doing it. Living each day not having any idea of what I am going to meet with respect to terrain, accommodations, or weather has allowed me to relax into the unknown at a level I didn’t think was possible. The experience is richer, more unbelievable, and better than my previous life lens could have envisioned.

Five more days to Santiago, if all goes as planned. I don’t take it for granted that I will get there, yet it seems more probable than it did twenty seven days ago.

What do I expect when I walk into Santiago? I don’t now. I am taking a page from David’s playbook and go into it without any research. I want to be surprised.