September 4 th of 2007: I found a cross on the street.
September 14th I began walking to the border of France. How was I to know that I would continue walking all the way to Santiago in 10 weeks?
During the trip I posted little. Next to nothing, really.
Some lines about suffering from a tendon ligament on my left foot just after leaving Cahors. Then I got curious about men and feet care, how well did my fellow pilgrims treat their feet? How inspirational to see them pamper their feet…
A couple more posts about how liberated I felt, how I began feeling rather than talking, and started listening. So under ten posts, that was all. Due to the enormous lack of time and computers on the way of course. If I dig a little deeper in retrospect I know that that was not the main reason. I felt vulnerable and overwhelmed during the walk. Too much going on to make sense of it.
I am home for 10 months now and slowly the stories on the camino come back to me. I lost my journal. The last day it disappeared, evaporated. Never seen of heard of it again.
Now it starts to come back to me, the stories form in my head and I want to write it all down. To share the journey, the walk and the people that I met. I will not write fast, just when I feel like it. One piece after the other to cover the road. Step by step.
So bear with me, for a while, to bring my memories to the front and write them down. For me. And remember that I did not walk the camino, the camino walked me. No idea who said that, it does not matter.