Top Bunk

Ten days and 145 miles on The Way

“I left home as one Marcia and came back as another Marcia. The Camino is magic,” she said. Then she nudged me with her elbow and said with a smile, “You’ll see.”

Marcia is walking her fourth Camino. I asked her why she wanted to do this again, and this was her answer. We were sitting on a bench outside the church in Los Arcos, after Day 6 for me on the Camino. I had passed Marcia earlier that day. She was a small spot on the trail that grew bigger as I got closer, but not by much. I saw her jump over a small crevice in the trail, poles in the air, and when I passed her, saying “Buen Camino,” I was surprised to see that she was no larger than Simon Biles, with short silver hair, beautiful skin, and pink lipstick. She returned the greeting with a radiant smile. I would put her age at over 80, yet she moves with the ease of someone much younger. When I saw her outside the church, I took the opportunity to chat with her.

I have walked for four additional days along the Camino Francais since Marcia’s comment, and I can’t get it out of my head. Marcia is not the only person I have met in the last 10 days who has chosen to do this trek again or to do the Camino Francais after doing another Pilgrimage to Santiago. It seems to be fairly common that people return to The Way to recapture the magic of which Marcia speaks.

I am only 10 days in, and the farther along I walk, the more this experience is taking on a life of its own. Normal life seems far away. I believe Marcia. Magic will happen, and I won’t pretend to know when or how it will occur.

Here are some of my observations from my first 10 days. (I feel like every post I do along this journey needs to come with the disclaimer that this post is not heavily edited. Dear Reader, please keep your expectations low.)

• Normal time does not exist. Already days are blurring together, and I have to look back at pictures to remember if my favorite Pilgrims’ dinner was in Puenta la Reina or Logroño. Days of the week are irrelevant except for Sundays when everything is closed and we have to go to the grocery store on Saturday, which I have to remind myself is today.   I am aware of what date it is because I am booking lodging one day ahead and I need to know what day I am reserving a bed or a room for when I use Booking.com or communicate directly with an albergue. Future planning is limited to the next stop for cafe con leche, a bathroom, a bed to sleep in. The past is literally behind us each day as we leave one destination and make our way to another. At dinner last night, or maybe it was the night before, my new Camino Friend Patrice said, “The past is gone, we are here now, this makes us to be here now, which is the most important place.” Yes. The last 10 days is forcing me, and the rest of my fellow Pilgrims to be more in the present that most of us are used to.

• Nobody wants the top bunk. The top bunk is terrible, whether you are 57 or 27. It just sucks. The other night, I was in a room of three bunks, and I drew one of the short straws. Across from me on another top bunk was Luke from New Zealand. He is too tall for these tiny beds. I am not sure how he is making it work. The ladder was so rickety that he had to reach over to the post of my bed to get down safely. There is an unspoken understanding that we are all doing what we need to in order to get through this, and a wide berth and a bucket of understanding is required. The range of accommodations along the Camino Francais is as varied as the people who walk it. Many of us are choosing to stay in a variety of places, mixing it up depending on the city or how tired we are or our budget or many other factors. In my opinion, sleeping in a room of strangers who are becoming familiar and perhaps even friends and sharing a bathroom and being a little uncomfortable is part of it. Do I want to do it every night? No. No, I don’t. Right now, I am sitting outside as I write this, listening to great music, laundry is blowing in the wind and drying in the sun, and fellow pilgrims are stretching on the grass. I would miss this experience if I chose to get a hotel room every night, and the price to pay at times is the top bunk. It is worth it. (But not tonight, Andreas from Germany was gracious enough to switch with me because I am an old lady and nobody wants to hear me make my way down the ladder at least once tonight when I need to pee.)

• Take care of your feet. Oh man. I heard this over and over and over in Facebook groups and from people who have done this before and from other reliable sources. I have developed a gross blister on the bottom of my left big toe, and it is no fun. I thought I was taking care of my feet, but not as much as I needed to. I did not take my shoes and socks off every time I stopped. I didn’t put Aquaphor (or Vaseline) on my feet every morning. I fell into the mindset of many of my patients over the years who thought they could escape the pain or difficulty of rehabbing after a total knee replacement. Even though they were told over and over what to expect, they said, “Yeah, but I didn’t think that would happen to me.” Yep. I’m guilty of that. So now, I am sporting a combination of Compeed and KT Tape to keep my blister clean and intact so that it doesn’t get infected. I don’t want an infected blister to cut this trip short!

• Everyone snores. I was concerned that my snoring would keep people awake, and I am sure it has, but I have heard some snoring that sounds like an underwater recording of humpback whales during mating season. Or during a disagreement. Either way, it is LOUD. What is really interesting is when there are more than one snorer in the room and they get into some sort of symphonic harmony with each other. That is something. It seems that the albergues should issue CPAP machines with their pillowcases and paper sheets. People may sleep better.

  I found myself in six bed room with Underwear Keith again, and the next morning, he asked if it was the person below me who was snoring so loudly. I said it could be me. In his British accent he said, “That would be quite some snoring for a lady, if you don’t mind me saying. Quite impressive.” Sure, I’ll take it. He asked if we had slept together before, and I said, “Yes, but in separate beds.” (Should I be offended that our previous meeting was not memorable for him?) And I asked him if I snored then. He said, “No.”

  “There you go,” I said to Underwear Keith. “That is all the evidence we have to go on.”

  Perhaps I will find myself in a bunk room with Keith again, and we can gather more evidence on my snoring habits on the Camino. I have a feeling that he just didn’t hear me on that first night.

Marcia promised me that this trip is magic and implied that I would return home a different Kristine than the Kristine who set out from St Jean Pied de Port on August 29th. Perhaps I will return as a Kristine Who Doesn’t Snore. That would be some Camino Magic.