We were standing on a busy street corner, cars whizzing past us as we desperately searched for even one of the many yellow arrows that had been painted on buildings or cobblestone streets in every town we walked through, no matter how small. They had been with us during our entire six-day journey, helping us to navigate the Camino de Santiago. But not anymore. The arrows seemed to have disappeared the moment we entered our final destination, the City of Santiago.

When we’d first arrived, we discovered that Santiago wasn’t what either of us had expected. Much larger by far than any previous town, village or city we’d walked through, its larger size and density came with the annoyances you’d find in any big city. Cars and trucks. Graffiti and trash. Noise—from honking trucks, the freeway we crossed over, planes overhead. All things we hadn’t experienced during the past six days.

And now, we had to slog our way through the outer suburbs of Santiago to reach the historic district, Santiago de Compostela, where the cathedral and the pilgrims office (where we’d get our official completion certificate, or compostela) were located. It was here that the signposts guiding our way were no longer in view. Not only the large yellow arrows we’d often come across, but the white stone locational pillars as well, featuring the same yellow arrows, as well as kilometer markers and the symbol of The Way: a scallop shell, its hinge representing Santiago de Compostela, with the multiple ridges on the shell meeting at the hinge to represent all of the various routes pilgrims walk to get to the cathedral. Hundreds of years ago, the shells were carried and used by pilgrims to eat and drink. Today, they’re ever-present: bronzed shells embedded in sidewalks or on the walls of buildings, yellow shells embroidered on patches or printed on t-shirts and painted on signs, or the real thing: white shells dangling from a red cord affixed to the backpacks of most pilgrims. Including mine.

And it wasn’t only the directional signs and symbols of the Camino that had dropped out of sight. The pilgrims we’d walked with until hitting the outskirts of the city had mostly seemed to vanish, too. Now and then, we’d see a few people with backpacks, but they often seemed as if they were swallowed up by the big city before we could catch up with them. But the most disappointing of all were the people hurrying past us. No more Buen Caminos, no more smiles or even a simple buenas tardes to welcome us. These people had lives to live, work to do. They were clearly in a hurry, and they didn’t have time for tired pilgrims, especially American pilgrims who didn’t speak their language. But hey, didn’t they understand how important and critical we are to their city? Hadn’t the city of Santiago grown and thrived through the centuries because of pilgrims like us who come here and stay in their hotels, eat in their restaurants, buy their Camino souvenirs?

As I internally criticized the city and its citizens, I could feel my stomach tighten and my shoulders begin to climb toward my ears. Could the joy and calm of the past few days disappear as quickly and completely as the yellow arrows, the kilometer markers, the scallop shells and our fellow pilgrims? Just when we’d come so far and gotten so close to achieving our goal, it seemed that we were completely lost.

But were we? And just what was our “goal,” anyway? To get a signed certificate proving that we’d walked 88 miles? To take beautiful pictures of stunning landscapes along the way? To eat great food and meet interesting people? We’d done all of that, and more. But standing there on that busy street corner, not knowing which way to turn, we reminded ourselves that our “goal” wasn’t about the destination. It was about discovering ourselves along the way.

So, we each took a deep breath to find the calm that had slipped away. And we kept on walking.

Somehow, we realized we had stumbled our way into the historical district, mostly because of the dozens and dozens of souvenir shops with Camino trinkets lining the cobblestone streets, a sure sign we were getting closer to the cathedral. Ignoring the shops, I stopped the leader of a large tour group. She couldn’t tell us where the pilgrims office was, but she pointed us in the general direction of the cathedral. As we made our way there, more pilgrims fell into step with us, and that’s when we heard it: bagpipe music coming from a wide stone staircase. Making our way down the steps, the bagpiper smiled at us as she continued to play.

A musical end to what we hope is only the beginning of our journey: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/cpCgsxJYqVs

We took the last step and turned the corner. Pilgrims like us were dancing, sitting, or splayed out on the hard stone of the large square in front of the cathedral, celebrating their arrival. Like all of them, we’d made it. We took a moment to take it in, knowing that the celebration would continue at the Pilgrims’ Mass held the next day for hundreds of us in the cathedral. 

I wouldn’t consider myself a religious person, even though Kent and I raised our kids as Catholics and taught CCD to teenagers for many years when we were first married. But in the past decade or so, my feelings for religion have plummeted as my interest in spirituality has sprouted wings and taken flight. That Saturday, in a cathedral dripping with traditional Catholic symbols and ritual, my spirituality soared. Why? 

I believe it was what I’d thought Covid had bled out of me, what I didn’t fully realize I’d missed so deeply during the past few years: Community. The journey we’d just completed wouldn’t have been the same without meeting the women of Catalonia, Idaho or Sweden. It wouldn’t have meant as much without the old men and woman who smiled at us and wished us Buen Camino along the way, urging us on. Or the young man from Germany we met on the last day, who’d started his pilgrimage in France more than a month ago and told us about the many interesting pilgrims he’d met along the way. It meant more because Kent and I did it together.

And in church that day, we were surrounded by all of them, with some having trouble navigating the hard pews and kneelers after walking so far. The woman next to me was one such pilgrim, her leg stuck out at an unnatural angle as she tried to kneel, her hiking boots still bearing the dust of The Way. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, but I don’t think she was crying because of the pain. The beautiful smile on her glowing face said otherwise. At one point, she struggled to her feet to offer her seat to another woman with a taped wrist who looked exhausted and was leaning up against a pillar. Surrounded by all of these people who had just completed The Way, feelings of gratitude overwhelmed me, the same feelings of gratitude I’d experienced from the very first day of the walk and which hit me like a sledgehammer. I started each day of my Camino with gratitude, and I’d carried those feelings with me during every step I took. I’m finally beginning to understand that if I begin each day this way, expressing my gratitude and thanks for all that I have, it can’t help but spill over onto everything else. Thinking about my family and friends, the physical health I have to be able to walk this far. Knowing that I will never go hungry, or be left all alone. Remembering that I have a home, and security, and a life filled with people (and dogs) who love me. I have so very much, more so than many. And when I reflect on all of it, my days begin and end in joy. I’ve never smiled at so many strangers or enjoyed it as much as I did on this trip.

The bishop greeted all of the pilgrims in about a half-dozen different languages although the rest of the mass was mostly in Latin and Spanish. It didn’t matter. Sitting there, surrounded by a world community, listening to the music, seeing and feeling the warm glow from hundreds of candles and, even more so, from hundreds of people, I didn’t understand most of the words. But one word that I kept hearing over again over again was “todos” which means “everyone” in Spanish. It’s a translation I’ll never forget.

Thanks for coming along with us on our Camino journey. We wish you Buen Camino on your own. See more of our Camino videos here:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCsYFQHSdCg3jV3YUoK-HOxA