Day 29: So much more comes with less

Dear traveler, 

I woke up in the sound of birds chirping that are carelessly jumping on the windowsill next to my bed. 

I try getting out of my sleeping bag to have a closer look but my legs feel very heavy.

I'll just sit for a little while then!

I feel like back when I went to the Muddy Volcanoes with my folks and I thought that it would be interesting to step into the mud that was flowing out of a volcano. What do you think happened?

Yes, my favorite little boots started dipping in the mud and when I got them out, it felt like I had rocks instead of boots.

Luckily I listened to my folks and didn't chose to step directly into the volcano.

Now, I don't remember sleeping with my boots on or get into any volcano mud yesterday.

I bet Mamarmot's slope is to blame..

Mamarmot's already outside, enjoying her coffee under the sun in one of her moments of silence that ends right...now!

-"Morning, Mamarmot! I woke up with pain in my legs."

-"Well after all that running, I believe you. And it's not actually pain, it's called muscle soreness, it's normal."

Oh Mamarmot, picking on my running when she forgets we walked over 100 kilometers in the past week.

-"No worries, today we have less walking to do, on a much easier trail than yesterday", says Mamarmot.

Okay!

We get going pretty soon so we say goodbye to the cats and our friends. For sure we'll be meeting each other later.

With every step I remind myself of my small boots covered in mud. 

Left, right, left, ouch, ouch, ouch.

Dad offers to carry me on his shoulders on this ascending segment. This morning sounds good already!

I enjoy this lovely sight, with mountain and hill ridges and green meadows sprinkled with happy cows.

I stare at the stones that show us the way, encrusted with yellow shells. They are always taking care of us, so we won't lose direction. So you might not have a map with you as here you can't get lost.

The hill ridges are starting to get covered in trees and the paths become darker. And even if you won't see another yellow shell, you'll be seeing at least an arrow, stones placed in different shapes or pyramids, cones, leaves, ribbons and I'm pretty sure I saw something else. 

Or maybe suddenly, as you're walking, or or in my case standing on someone's shoulders, a huge shell appears that you couldn't miss even if you would be a big dinosaur. 

Okay, I'll get down from dad's shoulders for this.

I really enjoy the things we discover on our way. Especially when I have time to look at each and every direction and I don't have to walk. But as we won't be climbing anymore from here I can start walking too. 

We find a very interesting place, with all sorts of drawings on the walls, texts written on wood planks and dozens of shells in the shape of a heart. I wonder what they mean?

-"In this place, the pilgrims can leave their shells from their backpacks and with them, something they don't want in their life anymore."

-"Like the stone from that stone mountain where we've been a few days back?"

-"Exactly!"

Interesting. I chose not to leave my shell behind though as I care deeply about it. 

Slowly moving forward, and with my mind in the clouds, we find ourselves in a city.

Mamarmot says that we'll be staying here. Really? It felt like we got here very quickly!

It's fine, we have time to leave our backpacks and then explore the surroundings. 

It's sunny outside, the trees are in full bloom and this city is very colorful, with dozens of drawings on walls and buildings. I like it. 

Mamarmot tells me that this is Sarria, the city which is a starting point for many pilgrims. 

-"But why this place?"

-"From here we have a bit over 100 kilometers to go to Santiago. A pilgrim must walk at least this distance in order to receive his Compostela."

-"But he misses all the fun from the rest of the trail. Isn't it so?"

-"Marmot, everyone has his own reasons to walk this road. Some cannot walk far, some don't want to, some don't see the purpose. But it's not our business to ask why."

I somehow understand what Mamarmot says. I think. 

This thought sticks with me up to the albergue where we find Jose. We know nothing about the others. With him is another man that offered me chocolate every time he met me. 

He doesn't speak English but he asks Jose to translate for him. He doesn't have kids and he is very happy to meet one on the Camino. He lives by the ocean, up there, in A Coruña, a place a bit to the north from Finisterre or the so called end of earth. He writes his address on the corner of a map so we can write him a letter or visit him when we have some time.

My folks and them keep sharing stories throughout the evening, regardless of the time, the spoken language or where the Camino was started from. Here we are all one family.

And I realize that as we get closer to Santiago, we have more. Less kilometers, luggage, plans..more friends, memories, thoughts. We have so much more by having less.