The Day I Meet Marc

The next day I left the hostel with Pauline while the sky was still dark. On the way out we left our donations in a wooden box. Most hostels were 5-10 euros a night, but this one ran entirely on donations. 

A Hungarian man Pauline had spoken to the day before started out with us as well. I felt a lot of pity toward him because he didn’t seem to speak any of the languages commonly spoken by pilgrims. No French, Camille’s mother-tongue, and little to no English or Spanish. He seemed a little lonely and with good humor attempted wordless communication.

I was tired from the day before and my knee seemed to be getting worse. Generally, the other two walked ahead of me as the sun rose. We stopped for a coffee (tea for me) in a small town around 8:00. Toward the end of our break another pilgrim sat down at a table across the terrace. He was tall with black hair and a scruffy face. He wore a beret so I thought he might be French. After sitting he smiled and petted the cats that roamed outside every Spanish cafe waiting for treats. I wanted to invite him to join our table, but was distracted when a van ran into a pole near us. Pauline, the Hungarian man, and I left shortly after.

Cafe Cat

Finally, it was my turn to be left behind. I didn’t try to force myself into a faster pace to match the other two, but relaxed and enjoyed the morning. Before long they were deep in conversation ahead of me, visible only because the land was mostly flat. 

I didn’t have solitude for long though. The man I had seen earlier caught up with me and asked, “Are you ok?” I was confused because I didn’t realize I was noticeably limping, so I just responded, “Yeah! How are you?”

We started introductions then and I learned that this was Marc from Switzerland.  Marc had the same pace as me and we walked together comfortably. For a while, I worried that he was walking with me out of pity, but soon I realized our steps matched naturally. We didn’t talk about anything deep that morning, however I was interested to hear about Switzerland, having never met someone from there. 

We caught up with my two former companions for a little while and discovered that they were drawing pictures on a small pad of paper and passing it back and forth to explain their reasons for being on the camino. It was beautiful example of cross-cultural communication.  

It was embarrassing to realize that I didn’t know what language Marc spoke, having come from Switzerland, but I felt better when he informed me that Italian, French, and German are all national languages. He was a German speaker and we discovered our Hungarian friend didn’t speak any German either.  Those two walked a ridiculously fast pace even while drawing pictures and soon Marc and I fell back again.

I had already decided that I wanted to stop early that day and rest after the long day before. The morning before Bert had treated me to a tea, so to pay it forward I offered to buy Marc a coffee in Los Arcos where I would stay.  We talked easily while I waited for the hostel to open and he asked my permission to smoke a cigarette. He told me it was his plan to quit while walking the camino. He was 29 and  ten months and had read somewhere that if you quit before age 30 your lungs can completely heal. 

We said goodbye when I went to check into my hostel. Then, before I even had a chance to shower Marc walked into the same hostel, having decided to stay as well.  I was glad because Marc had a nice presence and I quiet energy that I enjoyed. He didn’t fill every moment with talking and even our silence was relaxed.

That night I had pizza and sangria as I learned from Marc about the Swiss governmental system. We ate in an open square on the edge of the camino and I saw Simon, Bert, Ha, and Kim pass through or stop to eat in the same square. A lot of my favorite people in the same town!

This pilgrim must have slept in this stone shack.

My knee and back were really bothering me that night so I decided to treat myself and send my backpack ahead. At nearly every hostel you could find information about a service which for 5 or so euros would drive your backpack to your next hostel.  The main downside is that you then have no flexibility it where you will stay. You choose the albergue without looking at it. To me it was important to walk a day without my pack to test if my knee was getting worse from the strain of the weight. The recommended weight for your pack is 10% of your body weight and mine was about 6 pounds heavier than that. 

That night I also treated one of my first blisters with some compeed Marc gave me. My shoes were only $20.00, but had comfortable insoles. Compared to most pilgrims’ they were very lightweight and were barely intended for hiking. I loved them though because I had yet to get a single blister on my heels. Two of my toenails were turning black from walking downhill, but that was comparatively painless. 

In so many ways I counted myself lucky. It was not even a week into my journey and I’d had so many unforgettable experiences. My health was good overall and I continued to look forward to every day as a new adventure.