He had just finished the evening pilgrim mass and had invited all the pilgrims to stand before him.

Except I wasn’t a pilgrim.

I was in Logroño, Spain to visit my dear friend Chris. He was volunteering at the local albergue (pilgrim hostel) in that town for two weeks. “After the pilgrim mass here, the priest does something quite special,” Chris had told me earlier. “He explains some of the details of the church to the pilgrims.” And so, at seven o’clock, we found our seats and waited.

Due to the echo of the microphone, I couldn’t follow most of the Spanish mass. But based on what Chris had told me earlier, I understood when the priest invited the pilgrims to come forward.

Chris stood up and beckoned for me to follow him. But I’m not a pilgrim right now. I’m not walking the Camino. I’m just here to see my friend.

I followed Chris up, but scooted into the front pew instead of standing with the pilgrims. Chris turned and looked at me, tilting his head to tell me to join, so I gave in.

“English? Spanish?” the priest asked again, in Spanish. People murmured that they spoke one or the other.

“French?” one pilgrim asked.

“I don’t speak French,” the priest said, with a kind smile.

“Is there anyone here who speaks both Spanish and English?” he asked.

Chris and I looked at each other. Chris raised his hand. (I could carry on hour-long conversations in Spanish, but Chris had been married to a Cuban woman for 50 years. So I figured I’d leave the translating to him.)

“I’m going to speak in Spanish and if you could translate into English for me, please,” the priest instructed. Then, to the group, “I would like you all to tell me your name and what country you are from, starting over here.” He nodded to one end of the line of us.

Chris started his introduction. But we were not at the end of the line. So I murmured to Chris, “He wants us to start at the end of the line.” And it was then I remembered that Chris didn’t have his hearing aids with him, so probably didn’t hear all of the instructions.

So I bent at my waist to take a look one way and then the other down the line of pilgrims and translated the priest’s instructions from Spanish to English.

Ireland, Taiwan, France, Germany, US, Romania, England.

When the 25 of us finished, he asked, “Where are you all going?” I repeated his question in English, after which the priest said it in French, with a sly smile toward the French couple.

“To Santiago,” the others said.

“Where is Santiago?”

We all looked around trying to figure out which direction was west. Some pointed one way, then another. Seeing the look of confusion, the priest clarified, pointing to the large altar piece towering behind him.

“Where is Santiago?”

Ah. He didn’t mean the city of Santiago de Compostela, to which the pilgrims were walking. He meant St. James himself (Santiago in Spanish). By this point, most of these pilgrims had probably been on the Camino for two weeks. You get to recognize St. James pretty quickly when you’re walking a pilgrimage trail towards his supposed remains.

We all pointed to the central figure in the altarpiece. Then, a red dot appeared on St. James’ face. The priest had a laser pointer! “Yes, there he is. There’s his hat, the shell.” I continued translating, grateful the priest was stopping after every phrase so I didn’t have to remember too much before I translated for the group. The priest continued to translate into French after I was finished.

“Who was Santiago?” he asked.

“One of the 12 apostles,” we murmured. Pilgrims learn that fact pretty quickly on the Camino as well.

“He was the first apostle to be martyred,” the priest informed us. “And he’s the only apostle whose martyrdom is recorded in the Bible.” These two facts were completely new to me. “Do you know how he died?”

Chris and I, who have each walked Camino routes more than 12 times, knew the answer. But we were not there to show off. So we waited. When it was clear no one else knew, Chris and I put our hands up to our necks and slid them from left to right, proud students in this morbid game.

“Yes. He was beheaded.”

Would I have been as good a translator had I not already known the stories of St. James’ life, death, and posthumous wanderings? Who knows. I wasn’t thinking about that. I was intently focused on every word. I had a job to do and, as my Catholic school education had taught me, I was going to give my absolute best.

The priest turned his red laser to another image behind him -- a man on his knees, holding his head in his hands. The red dot then jumped to a man above him, wielding a sword, clean of any blood, I noticed.

“Where was he killed?” Chris and I took this one after some seconds of silence.

“Jerusalem.”

“Where is Santiago buried now?” Oh, good. Another one we all knew. The pilgrims were headed to see where he was supposedly buried. In Santiago de Compostela, in Spain’s northwest corner.

“So if he was killed in Jerusalem and is buried in Santiago de Compostela, how did he get there?”

One of the pilgrims knew about the stone boat.

“They brought his body to Padrón,” the priest explained. I translated. Again the priest turned to the wall of carved images behind him, running his red beam of light across a boat.

He circled other figures with the laser. “There’s Santiago. And there. And there. And there. This is the only church where the life of Santiago is shown on an altarpiece like this. Not even in Santiago de Compostela do they have this,” he said.

We stood there, stunned, our eyes running over everything in front of us.

The priest raised his hands over us for a final blessing. “That they will find light in the darkness, food when they are hungry, shelter when they are tired. That they arrive safely to Santiago and safely back to their homes again.”

He wished us all a “Buen Camino,” stepped off the altar, and disappeared behind a door.

“Thanks for for translating,” the Irish woman said.

Chris turned to me. “That’s the only time I’ve felt bad not having my hearing aids.”

I thought about this and later thanked him. “I didn’t think I deserved to be up there at first. If it wasn’t for you forgetting your hearing aids, I would have stood there feeling like an imposter. So thank you, my friend. Of all the times I’ve been able to translate for someone, this is the one I’m most proud of.”

Did you feel the earth wobble on its axis a few hours ago?

That was because my father was eating KALE SOUP.

We sat down to the table and there were EDIBLE FLOWERS in our bowls. And he ate those, too!!

Two years ago, had I stumbled into the garden of a Camino albergue (hostel) down the street from our hotel and been invited to join them for a dinner of kale soup and a vegetable main course, I would have said, “I’d love to, but I’m here with my father, and he’s a bit of a picky eater.” I probably would have returned to our hotel and said something like, “They invited us to dinner but I knew you wouldn’t want to eat kale soup,” and my father would have given a face of disgust and said, “KALE SOUP?!”

But we’ve grown, apparently.

Dad’s asleep at the moment (we walked 16 miles today, after all), so I still have no idea why he said yes to any of this.

Lucky for him, the second course was pasta primavera. We were encouraged to add some sweet Thai chili sauce to it. I was engaged in another conversation so I didn’t see if Dad did so. If tomorrow you hear reports of me fainting, it will be because he told me he tried it.

After dinner, some of us stayed for the evening meditation. Dad opted to go back to the hotel instead. I’m guessing he’d had enough Camino adventure for one night.

People used to ask why I go back and do the same Camino routes sometimes. This is one of the many reasons why. You never know who you’ll meet. New places will open. Others will close. People will surprise you— with their stories, their kindness, their generosity.

You’ll be walking down the street with a woman you met just hours ago or a few days ago,
you’ll follow a sign welcoming pilgrims to step into the garden by the river,
you’ll be welcomed to have a look around,
you’ll know this place wasn’t here the last time you were on this route,
you’ll be told it opened in December.
You’ll meet the owner.
You’ll learn he walked his first Camino just five years ago and “within the first 2.5 hours” he knew this was what he had to do.
You’ll marvel at the calming, welcoming space he has created,
you’ll feel the warmth of his open heart.
You’ll be invited to dinner.
Your dad will—miraculously— join you and surprise you by not only trying but eating a whole bowl of KALE SOUP.
You’ll converse and laugh with pilgrims from Taiwan, Australia, France, and theee US states.
You’ll do your best to pull the only non-English speaker into the conversation by pulling up your long-lost French.
You’ll meditate with them.
You’ll hug them all at the end and some will hold you longer and harder than anyone has in a long while.
You’ll hear others say that this is a night they will always remember.
You’ll think, “This. This.”
And give up trying to explain it to yourself or anyone else.

———-
I remember standing in the Madrid metro station after our first Camino together. Dad said, “Is it always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Do you always meet people like this, have experiences like this?”

“Every single time.”

Renaissance Rebecca posts are stories from my life—abroad, on the Camino, or at home (wherever that is at the moment). There’s no set schedule for these. I post when the mood strikes.

If you’re a subscriber to The Camino Calls, you get Renaissance Rebecca stories automatically but can opt out if you’d like—just click on your Substack profile in the upper right corner and go to “account settings.” Click “edit” and uncheck a box as appropriate.

Rebecca Weston
Camino Planning & Preparation Guide (for People 45+)
Rebecca@TheCaminoCalls.com

Your Camino adventure should feel exciting, not stressful — here are some ways I can help you get ready:

• Watch Camino Conversations for practical tips and advice from my guests who have done the Camino (or more than one!).

• 🗓️ Camino Planning Session (60 min): Get answers to your top questions and a document with notes and links created during our call.

• 📞 Full Camino Experience: 6 coaching calls with detailed notes to plan your trip with confidence and ease.

• 🥾 Walk With Rebecca: 7-day hybrid Camino walks — 3 days guided, 4 days independent, private rooms, preparation classes, and optional check-ins. Click here to be the first to be notified about my next trip.Rebecca Weston is an American who walked her first Camino in 2012.

About me: I’ve walked more than a dozen Caminos, spent many days volunteering along the trail, and if I’m not walking one now, I’m planning the next—and would love nothing more than to help you plan yours, too. My husband and I live in a town of 6500 people on the Camino del Norte.

I’d met a few Spaniards that morning, and when we came to a half-wall with a spray-painted image of the words “Ultreia and Suseia,” those of us who’d walked Caminos before knew there was pilgrim support coming soon. These words were a medieval greeting—and offer of encouragement—among pilgrims. “Ultreia” means further or beyond and “Suseia” means higher or upward. (In Medieval times, the first pilgrim would say “Ultreia!” and the second would respond with “Suseia!” Today, the pilgrim greeting is “Buen Camino,” though I’d love to add the Ultreia/Suseia back into the tradition!)

Just beside those words of greeting, there was an opening in the half-wall. Off to the left, there was a covered picnic area, its tables dotted with pilgrims eating, drinking, and conversing, their backpacks of all sizes beside them or against the back wall.

We found a table, dropped our packs, and went to check out the offerings. Beyond the picnic area was a small, low-slung building. My fellow Americans would think there wouldn’t be much inside such a small space, but those of us that know Spain know the Spaniards have an incredible way of creating all sorts of things in small spaces like this.

Inside, a woman with short hair and glasses attended to the few pilgrims in the line in front of us. Options included drinks (hot and cold), empanadas, tortilla de patatas (a thick egg and potato crustless quiche), croissants, and sandwiches. There were various Camino souvenirs one could buy and, on the opposite side of the room, a sparkling-clean bathroom with a 4-foot high medicine cabinet holding a cure for any need a pilgrim might have.

In other words: we’d found Camino pilgrim heaven.

Someone bought drinks, some of us got food, others took a bathroom detour, and five minutes later we were all gathered around the table eating, drinking, and chatting with other pilgrims.

As the number of pilgrims thinned, one of our group greeted the owner who was clearing tables. And so it was that we learned about Rocio.

Rocio was a carpenter. Across the gravel lot from where we sat was a large building that used to be her workshop. As this was the first structure pilgrims saw after a couple hours of walking, they’d often stop in and ask for some water, which Rocio would graciously provide. She’d been doing this for dozens of years—long before most of the world had ever heard of the Camino, let alone this route (the Camino Inglés).

When COVID came and furniture sales declined, she decided to pivot. She closed her factory and took this space that once offered a respite and free water source to pilgrims and turned it into what it is today. She decided to dedicate herself at that point to the care of pilgrims.

But now she’s ready to retire. Her land and buildings are worth a sizable bit of money but she only wants to sell to someone who would continue to serve pilgrims from this space at the back of the parking lot. (It’s not easy to subdivide property here in Spain.)

So she’s hoping that the Camino will provide a solution for her.

When we left, I asked my Spanish friends to confirm the story she told to be sure I understood all the Spanish. “She said the beer company might want to buy it?” I asked. “Well, they know about her,” my new Spanish friend explained. “They painted her on one of the buildings.”

I still wasn’t sure I understood exactly what was going on, but 20 minutes later, there she was, four stories tall.

I’d seen the paintings along various Camino routes—black and red, taking up the side of a four story apartment building, easily in view of the pilgrims walking the Camino. “Estrellas del Camino” it says beside them: Stars of the Camino. I recognized the logo beneath these words as that of Estrella Galicia beer. I’d seen one of these murals earlier on this route and read the sign below it that told us about José Carlos Pita López. After dictator Francisco Franco’s death, José Carlos was the first democratically elected mayor of Neda (a town on the Camino Inglés). He served in that role for 38 years. When he started his work, the town had no paved roads, no highways. One day, in the town archives, he found mention of a Camino route through the town. And thus the beginning of the recovery of the Camino Inglés.

I finally understood: the beer company has chosen to honor people who have made a significant impact on the Camino in their area.

When Rocio said the beer company might be interested, I realized she was saying they knew about her thanks to the painting.

This prompted me to do a little research. I wanted to know more about this campaign by Estrella Galicia.

It started in 2021, with seven murals painted along the Camino Francés. In 2022, 10 murals were painted on the Camino Portugués. And in 2023, Estrella Galicia hired artists to paint 6 murals along the Camino Inglés.

The Estrella Galicia website tells the stories of the subjects of each mural as well as the artists. The “exhibition” now covers over 500 km of Camino routes in the province of Galicia.

—

My first Camino, back in 2012, was all-encompassing. I was overwhelmed by the generosity not just of other pilgrims, but of these locals. I marveled that a country could pull off something like the Camino. Many of the trail markers at that time were painted yellow arrows—maintained/touched up by the locals to help direct the pilgrims. I remember a women in León dressed in hospital scrubs who, when I asked her to point me in the direction of the Camino, left the bus stop to walk me 5 minutes out of her way to get me back on the trail.

I have dozens of stories from Camino routes just like this—the cherry farmer who stopped his tractor and encouraged my father and I to take some of the harvest. “Más, más!” he kept telling us (more! more!). The man checking his olive trees who took the time to explain to me that you can’t just pick an olive off a tree and eat it—it would taste terrible. I had no idea! The woman who, sitting at her table under an umbrella on a very warm day, took our water bottles into her house to refill them.

So these Stars of the Camino? You don’t just find them painted on murals. They exist throughout the country—and, having walked Camino routes in Portugal and France, I can tell you they exist there as well.

In fact, I dare say there are generous, kind-hearted people all around the world. I’d bet the majority of people wouldn’t hesitate to help another.

My mother once said, “If the world could operate the way the Camino does, it would be a much better place.”

So I invite you to come and restore your faith in humanity. Not just to take this Camino experience home with you, but to be part of the culture of giving and receiving and to bring that back with you.

But you don’t need to have walked the Camino to be open to those that may need a hand, a kind word, a hug. Please: be kind to one another. Be a Star.

With love,

Renaissance Rebecca

What is this?!

To those of you that haven’t known me very long, you may be wondering what’s going on. I usually only post on Sundays. And then put up the weekly Camino Conversations interview during the week. But a Camino story on a random Tuesday?

Those of you that have known me longer know exactly what this is: RenaissanceRebecca is back!

Whenever I feel the urge, I’ll be sharing stories from my life at home and abroad, the people I meet, the connections I make—Camino or otherwise.

As of this moment, if you’re a subscriber, you’ll receive both my nuts-and-bolts/ Camino inspiration posts as well as Renaissance Rebecca posts (like the one above).

If you want to opt out of one of them, just click on your Substack profile (upper right corner) and go to “account settings.” Click “edit” and uncheck a box as appropriate.

🥾Ready to start planning your Camino?

Rebecca Weston
Camino Planning & Preparation Guide (for People 45+)
Rebecca@TheCaminoCalls.com

Your Camino adventure should feel exciting, not stressful — here are some ways I can help you get ready:

• 🎥Watch Camino Conversations for practical tips and advice from my guests who have done the Camino (or more than one!).

• 🗓️ Camino Planning Session (45 min): Get answers to your top questions and a notes doc created during our call.

• 📞 Full Camino Experience: 6 coaching calls with detailed notes to plan your trip with confidence and ease.

• 🥾 Walk With Rebecca: 7-day hybrid Camino walks — 3 days guided, 4 days independent, private rooms, preparation classes, and optional check-ins. Click here to be the first to be notified about my next trip.

About me: I walked my first Camino in 2012 . Since then, I have walked over a dozen Caminos—alone or with others; in spring, summer and fall; in Spain, Portugal, and France. I’ve also spent many days volunteering along the trail, and if I’m not walking one now, I’m planning the next—and would love nothing more than to help you plan yours, too. My husband and I live in a town of 6500 people on the Camino del Norte.