One of the unexpected joys of this journey across Spain is the lack of choices.
In the morning I have the choice of putting on my leggings, my rain pants, or my leggings under my rain pants. I then put on whichever of my two tank tops is the cleanest. Followed by a long-sleeve smart wool shirt. And then I have the choice of whether or not to add a second long-sleeve shirt before putting on my one vest. I put on a clean pair of socks, and my one pair of boots. In the evening I have the choice between pants or a dress, and either way I wear sandals. Which is the totality of the wardrobe that I carry.
At breakfast I have the choice of bread, a Spanish omelet, or a Spanish omelet on bread. At lunch I have the choice of a Spanish omelet on bread or ham and cheese on bread. And at dinner I have the choice of soup or salad for my first course, chicken or beef or fish for my second, and yogurt or flan or ice cream for my third.
When we go to the bar and order beer, we aren't asked what kind. We are given the one beer that is on tap. When we order red wine, we are given a bottle of the local red.
There are sometimes 3 or 4 different places I could sleep at night. A municipal albergue (20 people in bunk beds in one room for 5 euros or less), a private albergue (2-6 people in bunks per room, up to 10 euros), a convent or monastery (by donation, with a communal meal included), or a hotel (60-70 euros, includes breakfast). But often, in the smaller towns, these options too are limited to the one or two that happen to be open this early in the season.
Occasionally while walking we have the option of a scenic detour, but more often than not there is only one way to the next town and bar and bed.
We regularly reflect on how nice it is to not have the overwhelming amount of options that we do in the U.S. Helping us realize that we don't need all those choices in clothing, food, beer, or beds.
The simplicity of choice allows us to appreciate and focus on the more important things. Conversation. Community. Beauty. And grace.
Not to say that we are living meager lives.
In fact, Randy and I call ourselves the "pampered pilgrims". Always getting more than enough to eat. Taking our time to appreciate the art of the world and the wine. Staying in hotels on occasion to appreciate the tiny bottles of shampoo, bathtubs, and the absence of snoring pilgrims.
And we aren't the only ones.
We met a man from Indonesia this week who booked hotels in advance for all 32 nights of his Camino. Many others use a courier service to carry their backpacks from one town to the next. And there are some who refuse the "pilgrim's menu" in favor of tapas and drinks and a more local dietary flair.
The Camino is a personal experience. As frugal or as pampered as you want it to be. About food and hotels, or bunk beds and communal meals. Or, like mine, a beautiful mixture of both.
No comments:
Post a Comment