July 30th – August 2nd, 2024

ATL -> LND -> BRTZ -> SJPP

The pilgrimage starts from your own front door. That’s what I read before arriving in St. Jean Pied de Port. I wrote in my journal for the first day or two as I left Georgia but it felt like the journey wouldn’t really count until I was en route to the starting point of the camino. Looking back, I realize how silly that is and how quick I am to discount parts of my journey that don’t feel “real” or “good enough” to include.

Finishing my time in Korea, returning to the US in March, and teaching myself new skills to pivot out of education while simultaneously processing the past few years of depression had taken so much effort. I ached for certainty and grieved for the beauty and pain I’ve carried for the past 10 years. And, as I am incapable of real rest, wanted to do something big this year. Something that would challenge heart, mind, soul. Something that would connect these parts of myself that seemed to be scattered or shattered into pieces I could no longer gather together. To get out and away from everything and… live. 

Live? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing my whole life? Since my very first breath on earth? Perhaps, but barely. Barely hanging on. Barely hanging in there. But fighting. Oh how I’ve fought. I mull these thoughts as I fly from Atlanta to London. Mull them as I visit with a friend I haven’t seen in a few years. Mull the thoughts on the long day of travel from Stansted Airport to Biarritz and finally St. Jean Pied de Port. 

 On the Biarritz flight, British families off on holiday. The children laughed and shouted excitedly, clamoring about snacks and the seaside. As we took off, building speed and feeling the rush of engine rattle seats and the final push that would bring us into the air, a young girl behind me gasped, “OH, I feel nearly weightless!”

“Nearly weightless” she said again, murmuring to herself.

I smile. Nearly weightless… grabbing a pen I quickly scribbled the words into my journal. To learn to walk through life with that take-off feeling, nearly weightless, moving gently across the earth… how wonderful would that be?

For the next week as my body came to very real terms with gravity, I couldn’t help but think how “nearly weightless” I felt when removing my backpack and boots after hours on end of walking. How nearly weightless my soul felt when connecting with people from around the world whose smiles shown right into my very heart. How nearly weightless the journey was despite the blisters, the aching muscles, the exhaustion, the tears and the peace the journey would bring.

On that Biarritz flight, ignorance was bliss and the little girl sitting behind me didn’t know it, but she spoke words that this much older girl held close throughout the journey she was embarking on.

Confusion at the train station in a little town outside of Biarritz and told by a kind ticketing agent to take yet another bus instead of the train to the beginning of the Camino, I wandered to the driver and nervously showed him my ticket. Trying to recall every tiny bit of French I could and only managing to stammer out “St Jean Pied de Port?” in the worst French accent possible. He looked at my ticket, hesitated a moment, and “bah, oui,” he ushered me onto the bus. 

Absolutely not confident that I would, in fact, arrive in St. Jean by the evening we drove all throughout the French countryside catching glimpses of the Pyrenees and gazing at the beautiful landscape. Hours later, we arrived in St. Jean and the few remaining pilgrims and I piled out of the bus and wandered into the historic cobblestone streets of the old city. 

I didn’t know it then, but I passed by the first few faces I would end up seeing again and again along the way. Something that makes this particular journey truly special. For now, smiling faces greeted each other not with words but with the excited energy of adventure that filled the sleepy town. A wander around, a hamburger for dinner because when in France, right?! And an early night before beginning the first official day of the camino. 

Though in reality, this camino started a long time ago and everything in my life had led me to this moment.

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