Tiny Underwear

18 Days and 260 Miles on The Way

“She got some Mickey Mouse degree and may be shacking up with some rich Egyptian guy. Either way, she only got famous from that CNN interview that was organized by that guy who died of a cocaine overdose. You know that guy? And we all know a good journalist is like a virgin in a whorehouse…”

This surreal conversation was conducted over speakerphone, without headphones on a Sunday evening, around 8:45 pm, when the rest of us at the Municipal Albergue in Agés were in bed, under the covers, winding down after a long day on the Camino. This dude kept his sexist and racist rant going, saying the kinds of things some men do to chip away at the success of anybody who doesn’t look like them. He used the term “Mickey Mouse” so often it could have been a drinking game. It went on and on and on until someone in a bunk near his said, in the most polite voice possible, “People are trying to sleep.”

This Guy on the phone said to the guy on the other end, “I need to go, someone is giving me a hard time.” Really??

A few hours earlier, when we were all rolling in and getting our spaces ready, the huge U-shaped bunk room was fairly open. An adorable older (than me) French couple had set up their spaces near the Women’s bathroom, Monique and Ashlyn were a few beds down from them, Patrice had set up his bed near the Men’s bathroom, and a few people were already taking a siesta. I showered, did my laundry, and when I came back out to the main room, this Irish guy who looked like he swallowed a keg was walking around in underwear so tiny that he made Underwear Keith look Amish.

At this point, people in their underwear in common spaces is not unusual. We are all so tired by the end of the day and used to sharing spaces that sometimes we need to change at our bunk rather than seek the privacy of the bathroom. A middle of the night trip to the bathroom does not require putting pants on. We all get it. But this guy. This was something else. He was strutting, trying to get someone to give him the WiFi password, and even though someone (again very politely) told him it was at the bottom of the stairs, he refused to get it on his own and instead started coming into anybody’s space who gave him eye contact with far too few clothes on. It was aggressive. And unpleasant.

This story stands out to me not only because it was so bizarre to hear him talk to a self described “destitute former BBC journalist” about a woman named Eva Barton who clearly didn’t deserve her success according to him at an Albergue on a Sunday night while everyone was trying to sleep (read the room, dude), but because he has been the stark exception to the rule. Most peregrinos are not This Guy. Not even close.

We are over halfway to Santiago from St Jean Pied de Port, and this is the only guy like this I have run in to. Those of us who are staying in Albergues are walking into a new situation every day, with varying degrees of personal space and creature comforts. It is rare to find yourself in the bathroom or shower room alone. Stuff needs to be sorted and repacked in super tight spaces. People are literally living on top of each other. And through language, age, culture, and you name it differences, we are all sorting it out. We are all giving each other the respect and space for our own Caminos.

There is a scene in the movie The Way set in Leon, which is where I will be in two days if everything goes as planned. The four peregrinos who have been together 24/7 for weeks are staring at a fancy hotel. The Martin Sheen character says, “My treat.” The four of them each get their own, opulent room, room service, fluffy robes, and a pedicure. Before the end of the evening (spoiler alert) all four of them are together in the same room, hanging out and talking like they always have.

I didn’t understand this scene when I watched the movie. As an introvert, I was concerned about all this people time. All this shared sleeping, eating, walking, washing, and living time. I have found that I can easily recharge walking alone for an hour or two, and all this communal living has become one of my favorite parts of the experience so far. It has been baffling and surprising and delightful to be on such a personal journey surrounded by such a wonderful group of people. It is a beautiful example of the concept that we are each on our own way, yet we are never really alone. I have been reminded of that every day on the Camino. I am reminded, thank goodness, that people like That Guy are like a virgin in a whorehouse.