One of the joys (and sadnesses) of the Camino are the people you meet. You say goodbye every day, and usually at least one is someone you have touched or who touched you. Your fellow hospitaleros become your anchor, and then you say goodbye to them too.

But goodbyes are not forever. Here are people I hope to see again.

Not pictured are Natalia and Gonzalo. One might think that people who do such unskilled labor have no other choice. One would be wrong.

Natalia was a doctor, who actually went to the village every day and read x-rays online.

Gonzalo had a PHD in Civil Engineering.

Ulises had just sold a successful empanada business.

Mercedes was a retired flight attendant.

I’m not sure what Martin did, but he was our handyman and pretty good at it.

Ronan had dreams of accumulating enough passive income to travel for the rest of his life. He not only had the dream, he had a plan.

Katka left to pursue a master degree; I forget in what.

I’m not sure about any studies for Soren, but he had run carriage rides in Vienna, lived with monks in Greece, had family in the wine business, and gifted his bar to his brother shortly before going on camino. He is one who walked to Santiago and was walking back. He spent a lot of time trying to get his tambour, which I think he played at a professional level, delivered so he could practice.

Mar was a former musician; she played the zamfrano (or something like that) and the tambourine. And she had enough money twelve years ago to convert an old winery into an albergue.

And I, of course, trained as an opera singer and have two master degrees.

Were you surprised by any of that? Don’t be. Everyone has a story. Everyone has a special gift. Everyone has a special pain. I’m back in the states now and might not be posting as much. Please remember that until we see each other again, and when you meet someone new, ask yourself , “ What is their story?” They have one. I promise.

There is a young man from Germany who is staying here. I thought he had latinized his name, like I did with “Juanita,” but no, he is genuinely called Carlos. He and Stef are the only ones who speak English, and my Spanish was better than his. This morning. I swear, he is improving by the hour. But he is working harder at it than I am.

Anyway, we were talking and I told him my story of an encounter with a bull. The story was prompted by this.

Not only do you not really see that many sheep in Texas, you definitely don’t see them downtown!

So Carlos told me about HIS encounter with some bulls.

But first some info about Carlos. He is only nineteen. He graduated at seventeen and has been hitchhiking off and on ever since. He also is with Workaway, but he will only stay a week or so.

Anyway, Carlos told me that a year or so ago he had a hammock. He and some friends camped near a meadow and he hung the hammock from some nearby trees. They all slept without incident and in the morning they were making pasta in a pot on their campfire. Suddenly the owner of the field opened a gate and here came about 30 bulls running straight for them! They all ran away, leaving all their stuff, and the bulls ate the pasta. They had to wait until all the bulls had left to go get their things.

It’s not a camino story but it is a story. My first for the new book. I hope to get many more.