Walking west, one day at a time
The Camino turns distance into routine. Wake up early, pack badly, find coffee, walk through whatever the day gives you, check into an albergue, do it again. Somewhere in that repetition the route stops being dramatic and starts being honest.
I started in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port with too much in my pack — physically and otherwise. The first day crosses the Pyrenees: 25 kilometres, 1400 metres of altitude gain, and a very quick lesson in what you actually need versus what you thought you did.
By week two, the weight was down, the pace was steadier, and the conversations with strangers had gotten significantly more interesting. There's something about the Camino that makes people open up: everyone's carrying something, literally or not, and the walking gives you time to talk about it without it feeling forced.