In the last few years, I have done several more Caminos. I have walked the English, the Portuguese, and the Primitive ways various times, and I also reached Fisterra and Muxia (the little towns on the sea).

​During those times, I sometimes walked with company (Yishu, Santiago IV; Keila, Santiago VIII; Albina, Santiago IX), met wonderful persons (including José Antonio Garcia Calvo, whom I did not know of when I first talked with him), and hugged many more times the statue of St. James. I have walked during the pandemic, sometimes entire days alone, and seen first-hand how these turbulent, hectic times changed affected the lives of the little Spanish towns.

Despite my blessings, I had some bad luck as well, having lost my beloved Wilson after Santiago V. I sent it home with a dedicated courier, but it never reached its destination (tough I still believe that one day I’ll dream about him and we’ll meet again). Maybe 2019 represented the year of the loss. Wilson, the last of my grandparents, the end of the relationship with Yishu. But it has been a unique experience, and I am grateful for the growth process that came out of it.

After Santiago II (the one of this blog), I could have said something like this: “There are many more Caminos in the bucketlist. I want to walk El Camino del Norte, El Camino de la Plata, El Camino Aragonés. I want to walk in the winter and in the fall. I want to walk with my family, and maybe one day with my children”. Now there is no bucketlist anymore. There is just destiny. Whatever comes, I am grateful for it.

Could I have had more relaxation time during all these summers?
Yes.

Have I taken all the lessons I could have taken out of these Caminos?
No, absolutely not.

Was it really worth it?
Yeah. But you need to walk these roads to fully understand the last sentence.

With love,
Marco