Sara's Pilgrimage Diary

I still remember a story about little Jakob, who walked the Camino de Santiago in 2010. His story about that distant, mystical, and enchanting world captivated me right away. A 800-kilometer pilgrimage on foot? I wonder what that must be like?

Because of my curiosity about this “world,” I decided: I want to experience that one day, too!

I had never thought about the Camino de Santiago before; walking it had never been a goal in my life.

But Jacob's stories and the name Santiago (even if it wasn't the one referring to Compostela) filled me with a sense that I had to go there.

It was as if something was pulling me strongly toward that place.

Three years later, the time had come.

I made this decision on the spur of the moment, without giving it much thought. I knew this trip wouldn’t be a typical vacation, but something in my heart was stronger. I didn’t know exactly what that “something” was, and I set out on my journey to find out.

I can still feel the uncertainty and inner hesitation I had back then, before I finally decided to set out on my journey. I imagined myself one day walking the path, meeting different people, experiencing days of rain or sunshine, and feeling the cold or the warmth. With these thoughts and a flood of emotions, my backpack, and a pilgrim’s staff, I set out on “my path.”

After arriving at the first hostel, I received the first of many stamps in my pilgrim’s passport.
The stamps would serve as proof of the distance I had traveled and allow me to stay at hostels.

The hostel was packed, and—just like for me—the next day would be the first day of the journey for most of the pilgrims. You could really feel the excitement and nervousness even in the middle of the night.
Most of them tossed and turned restlessly in bed, and the light from their watches, which they kept checking, shone across the room.
Despite being so tired, I had a hard time falling asleep—I was too excited, too

The many emotions I experienced over the next 29 days were unique in the way I felt and lived them.
Shaped by fellow pilgrims, the majestic churches, and the humble chapels that make the villages so special, the rustling of the wind, and the invigorating chirping of the birds.

The moving magic of Gregorian chant, the long, flat paths that seem to reflect nothing but the sky around me, the countless stars that have lit up so many nights along this fascinating journey.

It's just like in real life: sometimes you make the journey alone, sometimes in groups, and often you find a true companion along the way.

I still remember well all the distant lands where the other pilgrims came from and the stories they told about them—from South Africa to Peru to India. But more often than anyone else, my thoughts were my only companions.

Those moments when I found myself in the midst of nature, with not a soul in sight, surrounded by mountains, feeling the wind on my skin—I felt as if time had come to a standstill.
The soundtrack of this setting was a composition of my breathing, the sound of my pilgrim’s staff striking the stony ground, and the click of the camera as I tried to capture the uniqueness of these moments for posterity.

Happiness, wholeness, harmony, and inner peace.
These were the moments and feelings I tried to capture.

One day, I spotted a village on the horizon.
Smoke rose from the chimneys of the houses, and as I got closer, I could smell the unmistakable scent of burning wood.

A flock of sheep was grazing in a nearby pasture.
As we spoke with the villagers, their eyes lit up when we told them about the simple beauty of their village and the great taste of their water. They don’t realize how much they warmed our hearts, how much they taught us and shared with us. Without them, the landscape is meaningless; a journey without conversation and without contact with people is unimaginable.
Through my conversations with people, I realized that almost everyone is looking for the same answers and has similar ideas.

I met pilgrims along the way who had come from a wide variety of routes (some had followed the French Way, while others had taken the Portuguese Way), and I talked with them about life.
That creates a sense of connection, even though each of us is on a different path.

In fact, we often take different paths in our search for happiness and contentment.

But even if someone else’s path doesn’t match ours, that doesn’t mean that one of the hikers was lost.

It doesn’t matter what our last name is, where we come from, what we do for a living, or how much money we have in the bank. At first, we were all different, but now we are all the same—pilgrims with a backpack and a walking stick in hand.

Regardless of their pasts, they all offered me support, friendship, camaraderie, strength, and solidarity. They were all part of my journey, and in each of them I could see my destination, Santiago.

Even though I was exhausted and parched, the beauty of the journey and the company of friends with whom I could reflect on life were even greater. These new friends helped me discover my inner self, feel the joy of simplicity, overcome my thirst, and forget my fatigue.

We know that there is no sky without storms and no roads without accidents.
Just as there were stones in my path, so too is our life often a rocky road, but every obstacle I overcome teaches me something and makes me stronger

If new friends bring good luck, if the yellow arrows point the way, then the hostels are a safe haven. The comfort of the hostels gave me strength and energy to continue on my journey.

I often stayed in simple inns with cold water and old beds, and sometimes in inns where the furniture still smelled new. But what made all these inns special was their unique atmosphere, which I wouldn’t trade for any luxury in the world. Night after night, whenever I found lodging in a new hostel, my soul was warmed by the sincere smiles, the warmth of the fireplace, and the chance to meet other pilgrims who shared their adventures.

Night after night, I wrote down my thoughts in my diary. But there aren’t enough diaries to hold all these emotions, nor are there words that can truly describe them.

As the 28th day dawned, I began to recall everything that had happened, and before I knew it, I started to cry. I longed for the journey and missed my family at the same time.

Still, I was determined to reach my goal.

When I finally reached Santiago, I took a few days to relax and recover from my backpacking trip. There were just too many experiences, an endless stream of emotions, new insights, and friends—and a journey… My journey.

The path reflects an ideal, dreamlike world—a world of solidarity and the pursuit of a common goal.

In a world where less importance is placed on material things, it is easier to follow this path.

When I was packing my backpack before the trip, I couldn’t imagine going without so many things for such a long time. But in the end, I had to decide to leave some clothes and accessories at home. We’re used to accumulating unnecessary baggage that we then carry through life. Through my journey on the Camino de Santiago, I’ve learned to live with only the essentials.

Along the way, I also embarked on a journey through my own life. I reflected on everything I had achieved and done up to that point, all the missed opportunities, and the search for answers to unanswered questions. Although I didn’t find any answers, I recognized the importance of these questions and kept them in mind. Many of the situations I experienced along the way are deeply etched in my memory. For example, it was easy to make decisions along the way because I was guided by all the positive emotions.

I had the feeling that everything would be different once I returned to reality. But was that really the case? I assumed that after my journey, it would be difficult to readjust to the hustle and bustle of the city, to superficial conversations with people, and to organizing my life around a schedule again. But it turned out that my reactions to these situations were more controlled and less impulsive, because I now had a place of inner peace within me.
Since then, this inner space of calm has helped me make decisions and better distinguish between what is important and what is not.

After walking the Camino de Santiago, I didn't just change on the inside—my whole life changed.

The Camino de Santiago never ends; it continues in our daily lives.

I could have written so much more—about all the unique places, the indescribable experiences, and the many new acquaintances… but the truth is, this journey cannot be described… you have to experience it for yourself… and you have to live it.

Sara Leonor Duque de Carvalho