What the Camino Gave Me
Words about spirit, kind strangers and remembering how to walk through the world with soul
Hello friend,
The Camino is a long place. It’s windy (and windy). It meanders through villages, forests, along highways, passes grazing cows, escaped goats, magnificent lone horses and dusty chickens.
It is a good place.
It is customary to greet fellow pilgrims with “buen camino” as you pass each other, and you hear versions of the greeting accented by flavours from all over the world on the way. I collected an assortment of responses to my greetings - “bo camiño” in Galicia, “igualmente” from folks who probably choose to give thoughtful responses to “how are you” instead of parroting it back, but the best one I was given was “ánimo”.
The Man Who Gave Me Ánimo
Was wearing the same hiking socks as I was, mismatched knee guards on both knees, and holding a wooden staff adorned with a silver cross on which the Lord’s prayer had been engraved in Spanish.
My dear friend Shuanghan and I were sitting on a bench by the side of the road having a little rest, Shuanghan sipping some water as I stretch my muscles out, tender after five days of walking. I’d been taking multiple stretch breaks over our 140km journey, similarly met with varied responses - a lady asking if it hurts when I stretch like that (I say it’ll hurt more later if I don’t), a man externalising the soundtrack of a sore muscle stretching on my behalf (it makes me laugh and I lose my balance), and my head getting dizzy after bending over for too long (I sneak in a little rest as I stretch and sometimes, a brief pause turns into a long break).
“Ánimo, ánimo” I look up to see a fellow pilgrim making his way on the path. His steps are slow and laboured, partnered with a dull “thump thump” the rubber end of his staff makes on the pavement.
My limited Spanish abilities assumed that “ánimo” means to keep on moving after making a shoddy attempt at linking the word to “animate”, and I smile at him, throwing up the universal sign of encouragement and solidarity - a fist with a strong arm accompanied by two pump-pumps. I watched him as he animated along, stepping more gingerly on his left than his right leg, the black jumper that he’s tied around his waist flapping as he went.
Yellow Arrows Mark the Way
Of your path on the Camino, and the way intersects with people you take turns passing and who will pass you.
We continued our endeavour of following the yellow arrows to Santiago and our ánimo friend soon came back into view ahead of us. The Camino Francés is, for the most part, clearly marked and taking the path that feels like the right one would take you toward Santiago. It is, however, still possible to miss turns (like I did on the way to Amenal) or make turns that seem like the right ones to make, like our ánimo friend did.
I jogged up the trodden path after him, shouting “hola!” to try and get his attention. It took a while before he turned to me and I get it - while walking, I’m hypnotised by the birdsong of feathered friends above me and the crunch-crunch of the ground beneath my feet.
I try to put together a sentence in Spanish that means “the path continues that way” but my mind hadn’t worked quick enough to figure that out, so I end up pointing enthusiastically at the path perpendicular to the one we were standing on. I am met with recognition and he starts walking toward me, thanking me and gesturing that he hadn’t been paying attention.
My new companion is from Salamanca and is delighted to hear that I’d be visiting his city in a few weeks. He tells me I have to see the lights at Plaza Mayor at night, and seeing my confusion, paused his trek to contemplate how best to convey how beautiful the illumination is to me in a way I’d understand. I pause too, watching him furrow his brow and rub his forehead.
He put his hand to his heart, closed his eyes and sighed into a restful admiration.
That was enough for me. I promise him I’ll go, and we fall back into a comfortable silence above the crunch-crunch rhythm.
“¿Solo un poco más, no?”
”Si, estamos muy cerca” I manage.
In the evening I look up what ánimo means. The word I’ve just welcomed to my lexicon comes from the Latin animus, which means soul, life force, spirit and motivation. Ánimo is not easily translated to English, and in Spanish is used to cheer someone on, to inspire or reassure, and on a deeper level denotes courage, pluck and a spirit of tenacity.
Our ánimo friend was encouraging us to put soul into our walk.
My face grows hot thinking about how I diminished the meaning of ánimo man’s thoughtful greeting, and at my audacity of thinking that I magnanimously helped this man when really, he was the one who showed me kindness first.
And he was not the only one.
The Kindness That Found Me
A lady asks if I’m okay and need help or medical attention because she sees me bent over the side of the road. (I tell her I’m okay, just admiring the colourful wildflowers on the ground.)
A group of Mexican pilgrims trade their spicy chamoy snack with our gummy bears.
A cyclist who we stopped with to briefly watch a town celebration yells “¡Muy rapido!” as he passes me.
A man walking with his family in tow exclaims “my Singapore amigas!” when he sees us for the second time and insists we take photos with the 100km marker.
A volunteer standing outside a church hands me a rose he’s picked from the bush peeking out between buildings. I put it in my side pocket for company.
Two pilgrims shout “¡HOLAAAAAA!” at me from a cafe across the road. Our paths had been crossing all morning.
A group of joyful pilgrims cheer us on loudly as we’re paces away from Santiago Cathedral.
A man singing in the square arranges flowers perfectly atop a pilgrim staff so that it may decorate our photo.
A kindred spirit takes a video of us arriving at the Cathedral and chases us down in the midst of the crowd so that she could send it to us, just because someone did it for her the day before.
It hits me that we’ve been bound by common humanity all this time and yet it’s been so easy for me to feel alone and unplugged from all this goodness for some time now.
Not Just a Walk
Perhaps what the Camino has done is re-attuned me to connection in gentle gestures - a greeting, a snack swap, a video of teary pilgrims (okay, just me) trying to fathom the enormity of what they’ve just done.
I thought I walked the Camino to write and to learn what my body can do. I did, but I’m also realising that I came to allow moments of connection and to remember how to walk through the world with more soul.
Weeks after arriving at Santiago, I visited Salamanca’s Plaza Mayor in search of the golden lights ánimo friend told me about.
There were none.
The square had been transformed into a concert venue as part of the International Festival of Arts of Castilla and León (FACYL) and in the place of the illumination I found purple stage lights and reggae music. I groove a bit to the sound, taking this as a sign that I’ll be back in Salamanca for the lights, and look in the crowd, foolishly hoping that I’d see my new friend to tell him that I too, have started saying “ánimo” to people now.
What I Wish for You
May you receive what you didn’t know you needed, and may you notice the kindness walking beside you.
If this post resonated with you, I’d love to hear what word or moment changed something in you. Reply to this thread or leave a comment. Let’s keep walking together.
Ánimo,
Min
And a little titbit because you stayed to the end. Here’s the video the wonderful Ana took of us arriving in Santiago:
My new favorite sentence ever is "It was windy (and windy)." 🩷 I love witnessing the experience of community being found through your writing! You almost make me want to walk El Camino de Santiago...
Thanks for sharing the little moments, would like to take this walk and encounter such moments too someday.