9/19 The dark comedy of the Camino is discovering the tragedy of the Camino, the truth. My truth: It’s hard to hold others’ truths. We all have them, the reason we are on the Camino. But I don’t know that yet. I start walking before sunrise. All I can think about is the end of my abbreviated day. I already intend to stay at Hotel Irache so I can be alone. My delusion has me ordering room service, watching on-demand, and using free WiFi to find the closest airport. An oasis of civilization in an otherwise unfamiliar landscape. With each step, I come to the conclusion that the Camino is a mistake. I don’t need to complete this challenge. I’m not built to withstand the emotional discomforts, let alone the strenuousness. Fuck my pride, I need to go home.

When I reach the hotel my spirits are up at least until I enter the dark and sparsely appointed lobby. The building feels big and hollow as though I am the only guest arriving for a business conference. The room is clean, the bathroom has a deep tub. I phone my new girlfriend Michelle on my cell, believing she might have some answers. She is excited to tell me about a new documentary called Walking the Camino: Six Ways to Santiago.  She’d gone to the premiere, gotten me a T-shirt. She wants to tell me what the Camino is like. I break into the conversation to tell her how distraught I am feeling. She says she’s sorry that things aren’t the way I want. I hang up feeling emptier.

The restaurant downstairs is cavernous with high-backed chairs, closed, but the bartender is able to bring out my late lunch / early dinner. The plate-glass window has a green tint and I watch pilgrim’s pass on the nearby trail. Back in my room, I take advantage of the tub hoping the luxury will fill the void. I put on my sleeping shorts and tank and pull out my journal. I write until I can’t. With plenty of daylight left, I try to sleep through the emptiest part of dusk. Finally, Stella calls, returning my voicemail. She listens and reminds me that the best thing I can do is to take one day at a time. Of course, she helps me shift my mindset.

I journal:

Thurs 19 Sep 2013 I’m lost today and “they” say there are no mistakes on the Camino. I’m holed up in a room just to guard my psyche from the disfunction and energy all around. The Irish guy said next time he’ll bring his wife because he doesn’t like her very well. He wouldn’t wish the Camino on anyone. What are we doing this for? Thomas of the 12 cups of wine lost 200 lbs but still has a mother alive at 89 with Alzheimer’s she got when she was his age now: 59. Nikee of the 12 steps is in a passionless marriage and white-knuckled every day for the last ten years not to drink. I want to be far away from them, so I walk slower. But, no beds are left if you walk slow and enjoy the present. If all I had to do was walk, I would walk. But now I’m between four walls hiding. I seem to have lost faith. I’m resenting discomfort, crowds, rude people, change, distance, sadness. There is a loss of purpose. I don’t remember why I began, and I don’t know why to go forward. But, I will, one more day. Tomorrow night I send for rescue. Today is day 7 and I’m only as far in the guidebook as day 5 out of 33.