The Ultimate Camino Packing List

Recently, mom and I have been hearing about more and more people who want to make the Camino plunge.  Some of whom our humble excursion even inspired!  Mom, being ever-organized, went so far as to put together a little living room seminar for future pilgrim inductees.  But for those who couldn't make it, I thought I would offer up the Ultimate Camino Packing List.  

All packed and headed to Arles by train.

Now, this one has a few women's things you fellas won't have to worry about.  And there are also some items that won't apply to certain people or that you might find superficial and useless (I will defend my miniature Chanel mascara to the bitter end!)  But never the one to shy away from full disclosure and honesty, I'm putting it all out there, iPad 2 and all.  So please take this list as more of a guided suggestion based on three months and nearly 1000 miles of experience as we tossed, bought, ditched, exchanged, re-bought, donated and renegotiated our way through France and Spain.

Also, if you'd like to read about our packing misadventures and clever finds, read "The Baby With The Bathwater" entry as we began the desperate plight to lighten our load in the days leading up to the big transatlantic flight.

Backpack Essentials:

•  Backpack
• Rain cover for backpack
• Small purse or day pack
• Hiking poles with duct tape wrapped around handles – you never know when you’ll need tape for repairs
• Stuff sacs for tight packing
• Quart and pint-sized Ziploc bags
• CamelBak bladder

Electronics:

• Camera
• Phone
• E-book with chargers – English books are rare finds (and usually bawdy romance novels only) and trust me you’ll go through your first book fast
• Adapter plug – you no longer need voltage converters for modern electronics
• iPad 2 – I bought this (lightest thing I could find) to write and post pics for you lovely folks, watch movies on occasion and listen to music (keep in mind we were on the road for three months), but I was the rare one.  It also served as my E-reader.

Clothes (easy to wash by hand and quick drying):

• Rain jacket and pants
• 1 pair nylon hiking pants and shorts
• 2 pair hiking socks, 2 pair liners, 2 pair undies, 2 bras
• 1 skirt/pants and extra shirt/blouse for town or, as I did, a dress 
• 2 short sleeve hiking tops
• 1 fleece-type jacket
• 1 long sleeve top
• Sun hat
• Gortex mid-level boots (recommend Lowa), shower shoes & sandals
• Small belt – for when you inevitably lose weight
• Lightweight scarf – I bought a souvenir one and it turned the most worn, ugly Camino outfits of mine into something verging on fashion, whether worn in my hair or around my neck

Hygiene (miniature sizes):

• Hanging toiletries bag so it’s easy to take into the shower (recommend Rick Steve’s)
• Bath gel
• Shampoo/conditioner
• Toothpaste/toothbrush
• Comb
• Deodorant
• Lotion/moisturizer for face & body – I went without for awhile & really regretted it, as the sun and dry air sucks your skin dry
• Insect repellent - I had scars from my first mosquito attack outside Arles for three months.  Buy over there where the stuff is so strong you might grow a third eye.
• Quick-dry towel
• Razor - bath gel makes good shave cream)
• Sunscreen
• Nail file
• Jewelry – trust me, a simple pair of studs and a small necklace will keep you from feeling as if you’ve turned completely androgynous
• Bed-bug repellent spray or tea tree oil
• SPF lip balm – I got mine with a touch of color in it
• Make-up – I had a miniature tube of mascara (in case of emergencies) and face powder.  Just having those two things brought me infinite joy.
• Sleep-ware
• Saline solution if wear contacts
• Tweezers
• Vitamins or Pills if you need them - at first I didn't, but quickly realized the food in Spain wasn't nutrient rich enough for all the exercise we were doing.

Misc:

• Sunglasses
• Contacts and/or Glasses
• Wallet or holder for passport, cash, credit card, medical cards, etc.
• Photocopies of passport & cars and index card with important number written on it
• Rubber bands - would MacGyver leave home without at least a few?
• Pen & small writing tablet - I just used my iPad

Laundry:

• Soap – preferably single-use Tide or Woolite packs
• Stretchy clothes line
• Clothes pins and/or safety pins
• Sink stopper
• Patience

Sleeping:

• Sleep sac or light weight sleeping bag (latter preferred)
• Travel alarm – you can also use your phone’s alarm
• Ear plugs & sleep mask – smartest investment you’ll make
• Head lamp – for the lights-out albergue policy both at night and in morning
• Toilet Paper – always keep extra on you!

First Aid: 

• Swiss Army Knife
• Body glide
• Whistle
• All of the following are very easy to obtain and need not be in large quantities:

o   Pain killers

o   Anti-biotic ointment

o   Band-Aids

o   Cortisone cream

o   Allergy pills

o   Antiseptic wipes

o   Large aids to arrest bleeding and treat wounds

o   Moleskin and Blister aids

Eating: 

• Spork
• Small water container – we used this for water when not hiking and leftover wine (not ashamed)
• Snacks
• Pepto-Bismol packets

Mini-Moon

My Camino Love and I have tied the knot.  On January 4th at the Little White Chapel in Las Vegas (famed home of the Britney nuptials) we became official, and soon hit Highway 1 to cruise down the Pacific Coast so my hubby could get his feet wet in the Cali lifestyle.  He was hooked instantly.  Who wouldn't be?

I love a good road trip.  Not much else elates me in quite the same way.  Blame it on my reading "On The Road" at 10-years-old or repeated viewings of "Thelma & Louise" (minus the cliff dive), but I go nutty for AAA guides (I read all the highlights aloud, even the boring ones) and mini-coolers that fit between seats.  I have searched a long time for that perfect partner to sit by me in the front seat - feeding me chips as I drive, DJing the right music, flipping on my butt warmer when it gets chilly, massaging my shoulders when traffic is tense, not getting angry when I have to stop to pee a hundred times, taking pictures out the window as if everyday, even in the Nevada desert, is an African safari.  Hannes is that perfect co-pilot. 

Rather than give you a travel play-by-play, some highlights of our windy tarmac journey: 70-degree crystal-clear weather, gray whale sightings, being swallowed by redwoods at Henry Cowell State Park, crispy tacos in Santa Cruz, artichoke bread from Whale City Bakery, dolphins flanking us on a sunrise sea stroll in Carmel, the ethereal jellyfish at Monterey Bay Aquarium, the Campervan gypsies of Rio Del Mar, our legs dangling off a cliff as we ate veggie burgers at Nepenthe, the rock sculptures on the 17-mile-drive, red light kisses...  But perhaps the most memorable of all - the nirvana of all nirvanas - was The Ventana Inn & Spa.  Our one-night honeymoon splurge.

This bohemiam oasis, nestled in the happy redwoods of Big Sur and overlooking the sparkling Pacific, was beyond any daydream I'd had as I mapped out our trip.  Firstly, their smiling 'I-love-where-I-work' staff upgraded us to a suite, which for a girl who's been obsessed with hotels all her life - hell, I can even appreciate a good motel, scratchy towels and creepy truckers and all - was like telling a fat kid, "A slice?  Have the whole damn cake!"  There were two bottles of wine and gargantuan chocolate covered strawberries waiting for us in a luxury suite I can only describe as 'the place I want my ashes sprinkled.'  It consisted of an enormous room with a fireplace (equipped with a stack of adorable Goodwood fire log bags), king-sized bed (ahem) with clouds for blankets, an ocean view balcony, delicate hammock, the world's largest bathtub that opened to both the living room and bathroom (have they been looking at my 'Dream Home' Pinterest board?), plush bathrobes and a display of products that would make even the biggest mini product-hoarder (ahem) blush. 

The property is just as amazing.  The Japanese Baths were exquisite.  We went twice - once to toast champagne at sunset and again to watch the night sky with its endless possibilities.  The pool was relaxing (80-degrees, what?!)  And the breakfast scrumptious - oh how I love endless cups of rich coffee with fresh soy milk and an ocean view!  We even took the complimentary guided stroll around the property the next morning with Stephen from Big Sur Guides.  There were two other married couples with us on the hike who had been married 30 and 40 years... and they still held hands as they walked.  But then, who wouldn't want to hold hands in this place?  It just has that infectious Kumbaya ambiance that makes you want to grab the one you love tight. 

That night we had a picnic by our fireplace in our robes and then a swing in the hammock listening to the crickets trying to find their own Camino Loves.  I can't say I remember a time when I was happier and more at peace... except when I told my Belgian pilgrim that I'd love him forever with our Rastafarian minister looking over us and grinning. 

A Year of Extremes

Photo by anat_tikker.

I have never been one for extremes.  I'm not a couch potato nor am I an adrenaline junkie.  I don't like thrift stores nor have I ever bought anything at Chanel.  I workout on a regular basis, but I'll eat a buffalo burger and fries with the best of 'em.  I've baked a few cookies in my day, but I couldn't tell you what the hell a 'roulade' is.  I've never been straight-edge nor have I been a hardcore partier.  I even claim agnostic... how much more neutral can one get? 

Every NYE a dear friend of mine 'deems' the next year "The year of [fill in the blank.]"  If I could sum up 2011 upon looking back, it would be "The Year of Extremes."  I didn't simply go on a vacation this year; I took three months off to walk 1000 miles through Europe with my mother.  I didn't simply fall in love; I met the love of my life.  And the kicker?  He lives thousands of miles away overseas.  I didn't just move; I suffered through a bout of bed bugs that sent me packing to a new apartment with an eviction notice awaiting.  I didn't have a few doctor's visits; I had two surgeries and mounds of medical bills.  I didn't simply get a few parking tickets like normal folk; I got into a full on car accident with a couple who hopped out like paparazzi and took pictures of the damage before I even realized I'd been in an accident.  I didn't simply chip a tooth; I cracked it on piece of sea salt in a thousand year old convent and had to have a root canal.  I'm not simply engaged to be married; I'm getting hitched in Vegas - the town where extremes are born.  And for the first time in my life I've had to hire a lawyer... Two of them!

Life has been a roller coaster ride since I took my first step in the Arles soil and began my Camino journey.  On the Camino, every day plays out much like the one before.  The real extreme is not so much the miles or the vagabond lifestyle (although those are up there), as it is the emotions you have to roll up your sweat-wicking sleeves and deal with.  Emotions you either have to battle or find a comfortable home for.  Every day new things were unearthed inside me.  Some good, some bad.  But none of them temperate.

But as this year comes to a close, I would like to say, My Dearest Camino, that I'm ready to get off the roller coaster for awhile.  You see, my back is a little tweaked from all the rocking, and I simply can't afford anymore tickets to ride.  The ups and downs of life keep it interesting, true, and when you go on the Camino, you're asking for a wild ride... a ride that doesn't end when the Cathedral of Santiago looms before you.  Yet, sometimes you've just had enough of the zigzags and free falls. 

My friend suggested that 2012 be deemed "The Year of Happiness," and I like that.  But for me, I'd like to deem my new year "The Year of Mellow Moderation."  Not only because I have a soft spot for alliteration, but because I'm ready to get off the roller coaster ride the Camino has sent me on, plant my feet and eat a funnel cake as I watch others laugh, cry, scream, barrel roll, corkscrew and twist their way to the end of the track.  And there I'll be waiting, to hand them a frozen lemonade and welcome them back to solid ground.

"Love In The Mud" Part 6 - A Camino Love Story

Leon dinner the night of the kiss(es). Red, myself and Hannes.

Ahhh, the first kiss...

My very first kiss of all time was also the worst.  Not only were my palms and pits sweaty, the guy kissed me like a snake; his tongue darting in and out of my mouth as if to catch flies.  I remember thinking to myself, 'Is this it?!  It can't be.  Had all those romantic movies lied to me?  Wasn't this supposed to be a pleasant past time?  Where were the stars and birds floating around his head?  The butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach?  Who had let the Frog Prince into this fantasy?  Yuck!'  Needless to say, I've had both good and bad kisses since (I won't even get into the infamous 'Teeth Masher' of 2000).  But none as perfect and breathtakingly life-changing as the one on that little wooden bench under the stars by the river in Leon. 

Earlier that day the gang and I stopped into the cathedral to take a look at its stained glass windows.  Hannes had already been inside, so he told me to walk around and explore while he took a moment to sit and ponder.  Look, by this point in my travels I'd seen nearly 1,000 churches and had no longing desire to add another to the list.  I'd been to big ones, small ones, ornate ones, plain ones, ones hanging on cliffs and those nestled in the prairie.  There are as many styles of churches as there are kisses.  And frankly, once you've seen La Sagrada Familia are there really any other churches worth seeing? 

But the stained glass was gorgeous, as Hannes had promised, and that musty smell of aging stone always holds a certain intriguing air of mystery for me, so I went along with his plan and began to walk alone through its kaleidoscope passageways.  Secretly inside, however, I was wishing he would walk beside me.  I didn't know if this would be my last day with him, and I wanted to savor every second.  But clingy I would not be.  So I explored solo for as long as I could muster and then took a seat beside him.  We sat in silence staring up at the light pouring in through rose and moss colored glass.  It felt good to be near him.  Even in the quiet on ancient pews so hard they put my butt to sleep.

After a dinner with friends that evening (and a meal that sent Red into vegetarian hog heaven... is that an oxymoron?), my cousin once again led the rebellion to ditch Hannes and I while our backs were turned so that we could be alone together.  Earlier she had pulled me aside and confessed she'd politely commanded Hannes to kiss me.  He had told her that he was afraid to.  That it would only make separating harder.  'Great,' I thought.  'Over before it had begun.'  At dinner I had tried to read his body language.  He flirted, alright, but didn't attempt to hold my hand or brush a piece of hair from my face like a man in love.  Could I have read him all wrong?  As we walked later alone toward the river, I told myself, 'Ah what the hell?' and put my arm through his.  What did I have to lose?  As a pilgrim you leave your pride aside the first time you wash your girlie underwear in the sink next to a hairy Spaniard's dirty Euro banana hammock.  

As the stars began to peak through the dusky sky, Hannes and I sat on a stone bench by the water, laughing and pouring our hearts out.  I led the topic to dating, first kisses, love affairs...  I didn't know how else to be obvious!  For the love of St. Jacques, was he ever going to make a move?  That quote from "Clueless" kept running through my head: "I don't get it.  Did my hair get flat?  Did I stumble into some bad lighting?"

We moved later to a little wooden bench still next to the river but now in front of a children's sand box littered with lost toys and what was most likely dog crap.  Romance at its finest.  It was more guarded, though, from the wind, and I was starting to get chilly, so it would have to do.  I wondered how much longer I could hold out here in the cold.  I wanted to be with him.  To talk to him.  Make him laugh at my California witticisms.  Bond over our gypsy stories.  But how long could a girl wait?  A few times I even thought he was starting to lean in... but then he'd bend down to tie his shoe or flick a bug from my shoulder, and my heart would sigh a long forlorn sigh.  I almost threw in the towel completely when a cockroach scurried by my feet, but something told me, 'Stick with it just a bit longer.'

Come 2am, though, I had the sinking feeling that I, Blackheart, would have to be the one to make the move.  Dread sank in.  I had been a grimy pilgrim so long, I didn't know if I had it in me to play the breathless ingenue.  But I inhaled deeplly, gathered my courage and leapt.  "Hannes?  Do you think..."  I paused.  "Never mind."  I had choked.  I couldn't do it.  But curious, Hannes started prodding me to continue and eventually I tried again.  "Do you think you could kiss me?"  Oh lord, I sounded like some Twihard preteen (not knocking it - I read all four books in the series with gusto) and not the sexy, self-confident woman of the new millennium I thought myself to be at home.  I turned to face him.  Ready for Hannes to laugh or tell me exactly what he'd told my cousin hours earlier.  But no.  All I saw was a smile.  A sparkle.  A look that said, 'Thank goodness.'  "Yes," he told me, grinning ear to ear.

As he began to lean toward me, I was consumed with nerves.  Now, I'm an old kissing pro, and I don't mind telling you that I've been told on many an occasion that I'm top notch.  No, the fear was that we wouldn't be good kissers together.  You know what I mean.  A bad kiss with even the dreamiest of a partner can be a deal breaker.  I silently hoped it would be magic.  Or at least good enough to work with...  But it was more than I could have ever expected.  It was that one perfect kiss you get in a lifetime.  A kiss that sends chills down your spine and sets off fireworks in your stomach and a dull ache in your heart.  A kiss that makes all others fade away into forgotten mediocrity.  And that tells you, at last, here he is.  Your soul mate. 

We pulled away and looked at each other in astonishment.  I knew he was thinking and feeling exactly as I was.  We giggled like nerds at Comic-Con.  WHAT WAS THAT?!  We decided to give it another shot.  Test our luck.  And then another.  And another.  And by 4am with our lips chapped and throats dry and a creepy street cleaner watching us from afar as he sprayed the sidewalks, we decided it was time to part.  I felt like a teenager.  I hadn't made out with someone on a park bench... well, ever.  But I did remember that feeling when you were young and kissing was the coolest thing you'd ever experienced and you could do it for hours.  All night if you got the chance.  I just never thought I would feel that again.  Yet with Hannes everything was new.  Love was as it should be.  Innocent.  Vulnerable.  Full of promise.  And, well, totally hot!!!!

He walked me to my parador, now awash in the shadows of night like a sleeping giant.  The enormous courtyard was empty.  The massive doors shut tight.  The gargoyles on full alert.  I was a maiden in a fairy tale returned to her castle by the prince.  We hugged and said our goodbyes.  "We have to see each other again.  We don't have a choice now," he told me, my face cupped in his callused pilgrim hands.  "No choice," I agreed, watching the stars and birds circle around his head.  (I knew they existed!)  As he began to walk away, and I tried desperately to pry open the 2-ton parador door, we turned back around to catch one more glimpse of each other.  "You're amazing!" he yelled, unable to contain his happiness.  "You're amazing!" I cried back without missing a beat.  "Amazing!"  And I meant it.  'I'm going to marry this man,' I thought.  The girl who never ever in a million years wanted to get married is going to tie the knot one day with this amazing Belgian mud walker.  I couldn't believe the change in me.  What was this Camino up to? 

Even in the dark at a distance I could see his smile and hear his racing heartbeat.  Even in the dark I could see love walking away.

To be continued...

A Halloween Word of Warning

Last week I went to see "The Way", a film about the Camino, which had everyone talking on our trip, months before it was even released.  Pilgrims wondered whether it would be good for the Camino.  Was this movie a blessing or a - gasp! - curse?  Was an influx of people wanting to follow in the steps of Martin Sheen really what an already crowded trail needed?  Would the true meaning of the pilgrimage diminish?  Would the movie do the journey justice?  Could it capture that spark of magic?  The camaraderie?  What it truly means to leave it all behind?...

Personally, I thought it was a great filmic adventure.  Funny.  Entertaining.  Beautiful and nostalgic.  A lovely piece of storytelling.  But what the film doesn't address (and I don't blame it, as an extended epilogue is movie-suicide) is what becomes of you after the Camino.  So, as a gypsy writer who attempted to be as brutally honest with you readers as possible all along her pilgrimage, I will tell you exactly what the film left out.  A word of warning for any of you thinking of making the trip:

LIFE AS YOU KNOW IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.

You like how I used all-caps to emphasize the above's importance?  If I could I would have carved it in a pumpkin and taken a picture.  But I didn't.  As spooky as it sounds, this warning, however, holds true.  So if you are content with your life, if you have everything you need, if you like exactly how your days play out, then please I warn you do not walk the Camino.  Because when you come home and you look around you and step through your days as before, nothing will look the same.  Nothing will feel the same.  Nothing will be the same.  I know of pilgrims who upon return went into retirement.  Pilgrims who moved to new cities for a fresh start.  Pilgrims who stepped into new careers.  Who got out of relationships that weren't working.  Who planned new adventures.  Some of the crazier ones even decided to marry the handsome Belgian they met on the trail.  (Real whack job, that one.) 

A lot of this is to be celebrated.  But, let's be honest, suddenly realizing the person you were isn't the person you are now can be a frightening conclusion and undertaking.  The path isn't always so clear.  What do I do next?  Where do I go?  How do I get back that feeling of fulfillment and peace?  To keep on the Camino in your real life is not an easy journey.  It's as challenging at home as it was on the trail.  Only now there are no yellow arrows or red Xs to guide you.  Only your intuition and a foolish determination to keep walking.

I often find myself daydreaming.  Wishing myself back to that place.  Back to the cafes sipping my cafe con leche.  Back to typing away on my iPad in a bunk bed.  Back to dangling my feet over a river as mom handed me the bag of olives.  The Camino, my friends and future pilgrims, will haunt you.  My advice?  Let it.  Because it's a friendly ghost.  It's a reminder of the life we'd like to lead.  A reminder of the person the Camino turned us into.  There's a reason my mom has seen "The Way" four times and why I'll watch it again in Belgium snuggled in front of Hannes' laptop.  Because the film takes you back to that place, before you came home and realized the dream was over... and that it was time, and scarily so, to turn it into a reality.

------------

Happy Halloween my fellow gypsies... Don't let the bed bugs bite. Muahahahahaha!

"Love In The Mud" Part 5 - A Camino Love Story

The grand Parador de Leon.

The days leading up to Leon were anxiety producing.  The more Hannes and I texted, the more I wanted to see him again.  Wooing on the Camino is nothing like at home.  There's no car or Muni to quickly take you to see one another.  No "let's meet for coffee on my lunch break," or "how about a movie tonight?  I hear "Bridesmaids" is hilarious."  (A movie I wanted to see so badly on the trail!)  Hannes felt a million miles away, when in reality, there were only 24 kilometers of distance between us. 

Also, when on the trail, you have TOO MUCH TIME to think and daydream.  You start to second guess yourself or dramatize little moments that would normally seem entirely benign.  Okay, so when he said "I'm so happy to have met you" did he mean "because I could totally fall in love with you" or "because you're a really cool chick" or simply "because you made the endless, unchanging Meseta less tedious with your incessant talking"?  Did that look he gave me at dinner mean "I like you" or "you have a bit of parsley stuck between your two front teeth"?  It's excruciating, truly.  I felt like a teenager again.  If I'd had a notebook (too much weight in the backpack), I would be scribbling little hearts with 'H + T' with one hand propped under my chin and eyelashes batting like hummingbird wings. 

So you can imagine my glee when he texted me that he might be staying an extra day in Leon.  If I arrived early enough, we could spend a whole day together.  Of course, he used the word "might," which sent the teenager in me into angst-y tailspin, but nonetheless, I was hopeful.  Hope turned to happiness when he finally told me (after much teasing) that he was, in fact, staying.  Actually he put it something like "you never know.  I just might be there."  Ugh.  What was this guy trying to do to me?  But I knew, somehow, the Camino wasn't done writing our story yet.

In fact, the Camino decided to lend a hand in getting me to Leon early, giving me the opportunity to injure my foot on the way to the bathroom.  Yes, the bathroom.  My only injury on the trip occurred as I walked barefoot in my hotel room from the bed to the bathroom to grab a Kleenex.  This meant I was going by cab for a few days and would get me to Leon nice and early for our rendezvous.  "What was I going to wear?"... was not a question I had to worry about on our semi-date.  When you only have four items of clothing, the choice is easy.  You pick the one that stinks the least.  Black dress it is!

Nurse Red escorted me that day.  Leon would be the site of our Parador pampering - two days of 5 star luxury like no other.  As we pulled up in the taxi our eyes widened and our mouths dropped.  Could we really be staying here?  At Hogwarts?  The magnificent stone facade and towering double doors that led to the lobby looked as decadent as a chocolate mousse.  It was the start of a fairytale day and a fairytale love story.

After a few hours lounging in our rooms, Hannes called me from the lobby front desk (high security at Hogwarts), and I skipped out to meet him.  I wondered what I would feel seeing my Belgian mud walker again.  As I limped down the plushly carpeted hallway my stomach was in knots.  Then I saw him from a distance, seated in the lobby chatting with Juliano, looking as causally hunky as ever.  "Do not trip... do not trip...," I begged myself as I slowly limped down the stairs, gripping the banister to keep my balance.  He smiled when he saw me, and the knots tightened.  The boys followed me back to the room, admiring the life of luxury we ladies had embraced and simultaneously poking fun of us, the "parador princesses." 

In the room my mom popped open a bottle of Cava, and we toasted to reuniting with old trail friends. My foot was aching, but I fed them all a courageous lie of "It feels fine... almost totally healed," and Red, Hannes, J and I set off to explore Leon.  I'll save the juicy details of our "date" and subsequent first kiss/es for the next entry, but let's just say the night involved a seedy street cleaner with a staring problem, a cockroach, a moonlit park bench, a desperate search for water and two cries into the warm Spanish night breeze of "You're amazing!!!"  Yes, pilgrim love stories are not glamorous.  But they sure are entertaining.  And not for want of originality.

Until next time...

"Love In The Mud" Part 4 - A Camino Love Story

From Fromista I would like to skip ahead (in my dirty hiking boots) just a few kilometers to Carrion de los Condes.  Hannes and I didn't cross paths that day on the road, and the end result should have been a warning that walking with him really did bring good luck.  The Cali gang and I chose the shorter path along the freeway, as many did, and wound up with mouths full of gnats (oh, the gnats!) and screaming feet from walking at break neck speeds to get away from the winged plague.  I looked like a mad woman on the trail, swinging my poles wildly in a helpless attempt to ward them off.  Luckily, everyone was doing this crazy dance - an endless line of jerking, swatting and twitching hikers, which gave new meaning to the song "I Wave My Hair Back and Forth."  Hannes and Juliano had chosen wisely, walking leisurely and without bouts of epilepsy along the canal.

The sunny square in Carrion.

As I went through my usual routine in the hostel in Carrion, washing my gnat encrusted clothes in the sink (they had drowned in my sweat apparently) and massaging cream into my aching pups, I realized I actually missed Hannes that day.  His good humor.  His smile.  His chatter.  Our thinly veiled flirtations.  His accent (oh, the accent!)  Even Juliano's lessens to him on how to be a proper gentleman... All of it.  Just as I was wondering whether or not to text him, my beautiful new iPhone sang the loveliest tune.  He had texted me that he was in the square, which just so happened to be below our window.  I texted him to "look up," waving to him and his friends laying out in the afternoon sun, drinking beers and picking at a roasted chicken like the ravenous pilgrim animals we'd become.  He waved back, smiling and gesturing me to come down and join them.  Looking at him in his sleeveless t-shirt (if you need help picturing this, he's a lifeguard), I decided applying tea tree oil to my toe nails could wait...

The boys at the butcher.

A few minutes later I was sitting on the bench writing postcards to my girlfriends with lines like, "I am currently sitting across from a hot Belgian drinking San Miguel... jealous?"  Hannes made us all a grand pasta dinner that night (jealous?); about ten of us searching through the streets trying to find the right ingredients.  I looked at him across the table as we ate, and there was something in his eyes, a tiny gleam that told me he had been thinking of me that day, too. 

After dinner, Red talked everyone into ditching Hannes and I as we all strolled through town.  We looked behind us, and suddenly the crew had vanished like Spaniards during siesta.  I felt like a nervous high schooler - her friends trying to hook her up with the cute football player.  Only my football player was wearing a Quick Dry shirt and fanny pack, and this cheerleader was in a dress that she had now worn four consecutive nights with Euros tucked into her bra.  We kept walking despite their prank and sat on stone benches down by the river.  I got the sense mosquitoes were biting the hell out of me, but I didn't care.  Later, Red and I dropped the boys off at their convent dormitory, as the nuns had a strict pilgrim curfew of 10pm.  As I said goodbye to him through the gate, I couldn't help but think, "lucky nuns"... Definitely not a phrase that gets thrown around a lot.

We had decided that night that even though the boys were walking further than us the next day, we would meet in the morning for coffee and then walk together until our final farewell in some hellishly tiny village whose name I have purposely forgotten out of sheer post traumatic stress.  (Yes, I'm referring to the place where the urinals sat next to the sink - me brushing my teeth as a man peed beside me.)  It was a bitter sweet walk.  'So this is it...', I thought.  'The end.  Some good Facebook friends who you chat with time to time and that's it.' 

Once at the village, we cracked open a bottle of cheap wine and toasted to our time together over a picnic lunch.  (The infamous incident when Juliano, looking over at Red covered in and surrounded by crumbs with a huge hungry grin on her face, made the astute observation, "You eat like baby.")  In between bites of stale bread and olives, just when I had prepared myself to say 'so long' and suck it up, Hannes turned to me and said with those damn puppy dog eyes of his, "I'm so happy to have met you."  Like the chocolate bar I'd been carrying around in my backpack, I melted.  Because when he said it, you knew he meant it.  My cousin was so moved she even let out an "Ahhh," as if we were in the studio audience at a live "Full House" taping.  I smiled, made some awkward reply and realized that not seeing him again wasn't an option. 

The 'Adios' picture. Left to right: Juliano, Blackheart, Red, Hannes

We took pictures together, mumbled 'Buen Camino' and gave each other what Hannes said were not goodbyes but "see you later" hugs.  I hoped his words held truth.  Red and I watched the boys walk away down the road, their backpacks bumping along as their poles ticked away into the dusty earth and waved to them for what seemed like twenty minutes, like grandparents watching you pull away in the car.  I had no idea how we'd see each other again, but for now, texting would have to do.  "Did you get a text from your Camino boyfriend?" Red asked me with a sneaky smile later that evening over glasses of Four Roses bourbon.  I had.  About 10 of them since we parted ways.  I took it as a good sign of things to come.  Our conversations hadn't ended on the trail, after all.  They'd only just begun.

But no moment together on the Camino up to that point could have prepared Hannes and I for what happened days later in the city where my belief in magic was resurrected.  The city of the Hostel Pauper and Parador Princess.  The city of our first kiss.  My favorite city in Spain.  The city where we fell in love.  Leon...

To be continued...