Soulmates of the Camino Portugués

Sitting in a cafe along the Camino Portugués with a good friend met mere hours ago, I think how this world is full of soulmates of all different kinds. Romantic or platonic, strong connections form when you find part of yourself in another, something that happens along the camino with seemingly great frequency.

Maybe part of this can be attributed to a particular spark shared between people inclined to venture out onto the camino, but, undoubtedly, the camino itself fosters an environment where boundaries between people are broken down and vulnerability and connection are easier than in the so-called "real world."

On the winding paths that often feel worlds and centuries apart from traditional bounds of society, those on the camino are not separated by our ages, nationalities, jobs, or status--everyone is a pilgrim. The camino exists in a world with its own rules.

Constance, a retired Dutch woman who has walked the camino seven times alone, says she has never truly felt lonely. There is a community of people wanting to understand and accept you, not just “the saintly parts,” she jokes. Constance appears several times over the next few weeks, always willing to break out her water bottle that converts to a wine glass and share a drink or a wise word.

These friendships made possible by the camino are enduring. There's Nola, an Australian woman in her 80s who made such good friends on the French route that they all returned to walk the Camino Portugués together. Jian, a young South Korean woman, walks with the passport of an older man she met on the camino five years ago who is too sick to join her this time around. She began the Portuguese route walking in silence with a young man from Lisbon, separated by language difficulties, but they soon became inseparable and he answers questions for her when she can't find the words.

There is a unique spirit of openness, where people are free to ask near-strangers questions unfathomable outside of the camino--and receive honest and vulnerable answers. Not even an hour into our conversation, a British woman turns to me and asks, “Are you in love?”

People divulge their fears, hopes, failures, passions. Alfonso, an older gentleman who opens his home to pilgrims, refers to the camino as "one big confessional."

Mike, a South African grandpa, compares this spirit to those he’s seen in endurance races. When everyone is down in the mud together, "it is our woundedness that allows us to trust each other."