The Camino and Its People

4/23-4/28: Navarra

Every day on the Camino brings something new or unexpected, yet there are repeated themes that began to give rhythm and texture to our days: the staccato ticks and clinks of walking poles hitting against pavement and stone; the chiming of church bells close by and distant; the side-to-side sway of shells dangling from the loops of backpacks; rock piles balanced high along the trail or shaped into a heart; pilgrims taking off their boots, taping their blisters and refilling their water bottles at public fountains; storks meticulously arranging their hoards of branches to cushion their nests high atop church steeples and electricity towers; rolling landscapes with ancient rustic Spanish towns emerging from beyond the next rise; painted yellow arrows, or “flechas” to guide pilgrims to the next town or Albergue, and eventually to Santiago.

 

 

 

 

 

From Roncesvalles, we began our trek through the province of Navarra, a beautiful region full of bridges and narrow streets and sheep, where signs are often written in both Spanish and Basque. Now that we were over the mountains, we developed a pattern that would continue throughout our journey - however our days were never linear, as the Camino inherently is. We would don our packs and film in time with the pilgrims, and in the next moment race ahead to set up the camera and catch them coming down some steep descent. We kept an eye out for those we had already encountered, like Sabrina and Katrina, two young girls from Germany, and Alfredo, whom the A Crew interviewed at length in Larrasoaña. We met and interviewed a woman named Misa - an energetic physical trainer from Denmark, who was walking with Jonas, a German man she had met near Roncesvalles.  The crews followed pilgrims like Ludo and Janine, a retired couple from Holland, and Annie into their Albergues and documented their moments of rest when they would settle into unfamiliar bunk beds and nurse their tired muscles.

 

 

 

 

 

And so our days unfolded: pick up some sandwiches (”bocadillas”), walk, drive, catch up on the trail with our pilgrims, walk a few more kilometers, speed ahead for “beauty shots,” hold detailed interviews,  and hopefully stop for meals during the daily Spanish siesta. Often times, we’d forget where we had been that very morning or where towns and villages were located in relation to one another. Experiencing the Camino in a manner so contrary to its nature, we savored the chances to leave the equipment behind and actually walk at our own pace, sometimes together, sometimes wandering ahead alone to taste the Camino’s unique gifts of silence and spaciousness. Some of our most beloved memories happened late at night, as Guglielmo and Andres would improvise the most beautiful of songs inspired by the ambiance of the Camino, while Pedro would turn every object and piece of equipment in the room into some kind of rhythmic instrument. Or when Sally danced quietly in the darkened lobby to Guglielmo’s delicate strumming and KC’s harmonious humming as the pilgrims and crew fell asleep upstairs.

Upon arriving in Pamplona, we were greeted with such outstanding hospitality. We were met by a private guide named Francisco, an expert storyteller regarding local history. He took us first to the café on the main square where Ernest Hemingway hung out - his bronze likeness leaning over the bar - then to Gran Hotel LaPerla, where Hemingway occupied a room overlooking The Running of the Bulls or “El Dia de San Fermin“. Francisco, raised in Pamplona, recalled fondly his experience on the Camino as a boy, and we were treated to a multi-course gourmet Spanish meal at El Asador in the city’s center. After Pamplona, we resumed our irregular rhythm, making our way to Estella - another well preserved, ancient town - where we interviewed a local wood carver named Camelo Boneta, for another perspective on the Camino. We were finding insight from such people to be so essential in understanding the influential interaction between those who traverse the Camino, and those who are native to the regions through which the Camino passes. We were incredibly pleased to discover how welcome each pilgrim is in participating in a way of life that has existed and been respected for generations.

In a very short time, we developed relationships with several particular pilgrims, waving and smiling jubilantly whenever we ran into someone we had met two or twenty kilometers back. We witnessed people getting exhausted, then two days later revitalized and strengthened once again. Every now and then, we would hear of someone who had decided to leave - like our young German friends, Sabrina and Katrina who struggled with the difficulty of the trek. It was in Huarte that we had to bid farewell to one of our own - Olga and her fabulous food and energy, who would be returning to Barcelona. At other times we observed the kindness of strangers, like when Tonio - a father from Mexico who we met and interviewed in Pamplona - made a commitment to get a woman named Maria Rose to Santiago, when she thought she could not take another step. Or when Annie was so exhausted she could not shoulder her pack, a stranger she had slept next to the night before offered to carry both her pack and his own for the next day. Somehow, the fact that we did not speak a common language or had to paste together conversations in Spanish, French, German, English, Korean or hand gestures, did not interfere with our innate sense of closeness, empathy and compassion.

 

 

 

 

 

Edited by KC Englander. Original copy by Mani Feniger.