Camino de Santiago - Where Do You Sleep Tonight…?
CAMINO DE SANTIAGO
Where Do You Sleep Tonight…?
(My Camino…)
Albergues
As you probably know, peregrinos sleep in albergues. These are places meant for resting overnight, and by eight in the morning you must leave them for the next day’s walk. There are public and private albergues. Beyond ownership, they differ in structure, comfort, and also in the warmth of hospitality and how closely they embrace a more modern way of life.
 |
| private albergue |
We were a large group. Nineteen souls walked together for 280 kilometers. Different ages, different levels of physical strength. And yet, we all walked from town to town, step by step. Then we learned that in one city—don’t mind me, I won’t say which—there was an albergue where reservations were not allowed. Everyone had to be right there, at the door, at the moment of opening. For such a diverse group, that was a huge challenge. But Camino asks this of you—face the challenge. All right. We’ll be there on time. We’ll all have a bed for the night.
We left the previous town at 3:30 in the morning. Darkness. Silence. Headlamps strapped to our foreheads. Walking and half-sleeping. Walking by the ocean. We couldn’t see it, but we could hear the waves crashing against the rocks. Thank God I’m with the group, I thought. Not in three lifetimes—no matter if I had to sleep outside in the rain—would I dare to pass through there alone before sunrise. And so, we quickened our steps… walking, walking… until at 11 a.m. we finally reached our albergue.
We lined up our backpacks one after another, like little schoolchildren waiting for their teacher. Then we sat at the nearby café, keeping an eye on our bags… and began the long process of waiting. Because our host wouldn’t open until 3 p.m. Fixed rule, no exceptions. Other peregrinos trickled in, one by one. We counted the backpacks, and after a while we realized—there would be no more room for the ones still arriving. Yet people kept coming… But our host? Nowhere to be found. No one to give those poor souls a hint to move on and search for another place to stay.
When he finally appeared, there was nothing but anger in his voice. Yelling at us. Telling us to pretend we didn’t know each other. I can’t recall anything pleasant about that moment. And so, we settled in…
 |
| public albergue |
But what about the others? I don’t know. I only remember one young girl crying as her boyfriend tried to comfort her. She kept repeating, “Where will we sleep tonight…?”
And I asked myself—who are these people, these little machineries, who take it upon themselves to make the Way harder for those who walk it? Isn’t it their task to welcome the guest, the pilgrim, the stranger—receive him as a brother, and help ease his journey? By what right do they decide who is worthy of a roof and who is not, according to some rigid rule? Is this how guests are welcomed?
I cannot believe that St. James has anything to do with the anger of his so-called servants. And they were angry—everywhere, in every public albergue we passed. I cannot believe he approves of rules that would send a 20-year-old girl away in tears from the doorstep. I believe he is ashamed of them. And that in his own quiet ways, he gathers every weeping child and finds them a bed.
In private albergues, you can reserve in advance. They also offer the service of transporting your extra belongings to your next stop. For just a few euros, you can make life easier—walking those 25 to 30 kilometers each day with only a small backpack, free to enjoy the landscapes and the experience itself.
I had to share that story.
Though, I also carry with me one much, much more beautiful. And with that one, I will end this post.
The most beautiful night, the most beautiful sleep of my life
We were in Fisterra. Drunk with joy, for we had reached kilometer zero, we hugged the boot of St. James… In the afternoon we spent our time searching for our own shells on the beach. And at sunset, we left our lodging, carrying sleeping bags and mats, and set off toward another beach.
A small group of us—about ten—while the others chose a bed, found ourselves by the ocean as the sun dipped below the horizon. As if it were signing off the great adventure we had lived through in the past days. Once it had set, we slipped into our sleeping bags. And we waited. This time calm, wrapped in warmth. We waited for the stars.
And they came. First shyly—one, then another… and then, the entire sky unveiled itself. Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, the constellations, shooting stars, dream carriers… All of them came to lull us to sleep, to send us off. To grant each of us a wish. We had earned it.
That night, I slept wrapped in the warmth of the sand, with the deafening roar of the waves—under the stars. And I dreamed I was walking through a meadow full of spring flowers, rejoicing. I dreamed, and I slept long and peacefully… serene. And how else could it be, when He was watching over us?
next step link Balance … Who Are You?
Buen Camino.
Comments
Post a Comment
Thank you for your comment! Your message will appear once it has been reviewed.