I sat at my gate in the Toronto airport and looked around at the other travellers waiting for our flight to Madrid. An older couple with their matching carry-on bags, a student-y type buried deep in his hoodie, a business traveller furiously texting on his phone and a group of friends in their twenties giggling and chatting in Spanish. Everyone either seemed to be travelling with someone or had a purpose to their journey. I didn't see anyone else with a backpack like me.
As I people-watched, the reality that I would be totally on my own for the next ten days hit me. I'd travelled by myself before but always to meet other people. I'd never been totally solo. The thought had crossed my mind when I was getting ready for my trip but didn't dawn on me how it would feel until I sat waiting for my flight.
This was my journey and my journey alone.
The Camino had been on my list for a long time. Sixteen years ago my Mum walked the entire French Camino and I've been inspired and curious ever since. Knowing Mum did it showed me an example of what it's like to travel on your own. If she could do it so could I! And, I wasn't too nervous about walking for hours at a time. My husband and I had done the 154 km West Highland Way in Scotland over seven days so I knew I could go the distance.
I had an example of what it would be like and experience walking. I was basically good to go, right?
Well ... not quite.
I had booked my airline ticket just six weeks before my departure and while planning had been consumed with thoughts of what I was going to bring. Did I need a new backpack? What would I wear when I wasn't walking? What did I need for toiletries? What would I do about hiking poles? I researched. I read. I practiced walking with a weighted pack. I made lists. I was feeling pretty good that I had everything I needed and could figure out what I didn't have when I got there.
My biggest worry was what I was going to eat.
You see, I have a severe nut allergy (I know, an adult with a nut allergy. For some reason, that seems to be a point of confusion to some). I've been allergic all my life and my reactions have ranged from a slightly itchy mouth to full-blown hives. I'd only been hospitalized once though so I suppose that is a win (maybe?).
A year ago, I'd had a bad reaction to cashews when I misread a label. Well, more accurately, flubbed using Google Translate and missed "noix de cajou" on the ingredients list. Thankfully, my son was with me when cashew-gate happened and everything turned out okay (scary, but okay). This time, I worried about what travelling by myself, in a country where I had a limited command of the language, would look like.
My brain was spinning before I even took one step on the Camino.
After travelling from Porto north by bus I had a bit of a warm-up walk to my next destination. Over the 8km, I experienced sun, rain and some wind. But mostly grey skies and a deserted path. My pack felt okay on my back. I had good layers. My feet were okay. I was able to access what I needed. My meticulous packing seemed to be okay.
The first night on the Camino I stayed in a hostel. There was a little grocery store around the corner and I picked up some food to cook dinner and breakfast in the hostel kitchen. That worked well. I was relieved not to have to figure out what to order at a restaurant that night.
I set off on my first full day of walking with cheese, meat and fruit from the grocery store tucked into my backpack. I stopped halfway at a cafe and had some tea but otherwise relied on the food I'd brought. Feeling good energy-wise and happy not to be stressed about ordering off a menu, for the first couple of days, I only ate food I'd bought at the "supermercado" and avoided restaurants entirely.
By day three I was looking for a little variety. The meat-cheese-banana combo was wearing thin so, with some trepidation, I stepped out of my comfort zone. About halfway through the day, I stopped for a caffeine and pee break. As I ordered "te negro" I spied empanadas behind the counter. In stumbling Spanish I inquired if there were any "frutos secos" and, after some arm flapping and showing of Google Translate, I determined that there were no nuts in the empanada.
I tentatively took a bite. And waited. Nothing. No itchy mouth. No early signs of a reaction. I took another. Still all good. I waited some more. And, confident I would be okay, proceeded to devour the empanada. It was so good. It was so good I bought another one. Yummy!
I'd repeat this pattern over and over. I grew confident in being able to troubleshoot restaurant items as I did at home. Tortillas (aka Spanish omelettes) were good, but some sauces ... not so good. I still purchased food every day from the grocery store but was encouraged each time I navigated a new menu. And the wine, well, let's just say it was cheap and most definitely nut-free!
As I was taking these cautious steps I was reminded of paramedics and firefighters. You don’t see them making rushed decisions about how to treat a patient or figure out where the smoke is coming from. They are calm and methodical but also action-oriented. They have a job to do and no choice but to venture into the unknown.
My unknown existed on the restaurant menu and in the kitchen but with a little knowledge and taking it slow I got better and assessing the risk.
Fear can paralyze you.
Whether it's fear of travelling on your own for an extended period or fear of eating food that might make you sick, it can be paralyzing. It's easier not to take action. Easier to let fear rule.
In her book, "Run Towards The Danger", Canadian filmmaker Sarah Polley chronicles her recovery from a severe concussion. She'd been in treatment for months and her symptoms weren't improving. A new doctor advised her to "run towards the danger" - to push past her pain and injury. Only when she faced the fear of her concussion getting worse did her symptoms start to improve.
In Spain, the more I put myself in challenging (or what I perceived to be 'dangerous' situations) the more comfortable I became navigating the unknown. I knew what to watch for. I took steps to manage the risk. The phrase "frutos secos" rolled off my tongue. I had a picture of nuts on my phone to show at restaurants. Each time I tried something new my confidence soared.
Before I left for the Camino, I hadn't internalized what it was like to travel on my own. I'd been worried about what to bring. I'd been fearful I'd eat something and have an allergic reaction.
I learned to trust that somehow everything will turn out okay. I just had to take that first tiny step forward even if it scared the shit out of me. I had to have faith that I already had the answers and was equipped to face fear and "run towards the danger".
Taking those steps on my own taught me that I can do it. I can be fearful and take action. And, if I've done it once I can do it again.
What do you fear and are avoiding doing as a result? How can you take action?
Walking forward with gratitude,
Sarah
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