Pilgrimage: A Journey of Self-Discovery on El Camino De Santiago

By Pierce Kelley

In this book, young Mekhaeil Zacharias, a sixteen year-old Egyptian boy, travels to northern Spain to walk el Camino de Santiago...the way of St. James, the apostle. He has been raised as a Copt, a follower of Jesus Christ, but he has doubts and concerns about what he has been taught and what it is he believes. By making a journey of five hundred miles, by foot, across sacred grounds, he hopes that he will be able to discover who he is and exactly what it is that he believes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532053566

Pierce Kelley

Pierce Kelley is a retired lawyer, educator, professional athlete and now he is a full-time author. He has written over two dozen books, most of which are novels, but some are non-fiction, such as a text book on Civil Litigation which was used in a few colleges and universities for many years. He has recently been inducted into the USTA-Florida Hall of Fame. He now lives in Vero Beach, Florida.

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Copyright © 2018 Pierce Kelley.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Scripture quotations from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version). First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-5355-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-5357-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-5356-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018909043

iUniverse rev. date: 08/15/2018

CONTENTS

Preface

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Prologue

Chapter 1     The Journey Begins

Chapter 2     St. Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles, Part Two

Chapter 3     Roncesvalles to Zubiri

Chapter 4     Zubiri to Pamplona

Chapter 5     Pamplona to Puenta la Reina

Chapter 6     Puenta la Reina to Estella

Chapter 7     Estella to Los Arcos

Chapter 8     Los Arcos to Logroño

Chapter 9     Logroño to Najera

Chapter 10   Azofra to Santo Domingo de la Calzada

Chapter 11   Santo Domingo de la Calzada to Belorado

Chapter 12   Belorado to San Juan de Ortega

Chapter 13   San Juan de Ortega to Villafria

Chapter 14   Villafria to Hornillos del Camino

Chapter 15   Hornillos del Camino to Castrojeriz

Chapter 16   Castrojeriz to Fromista

Chapter 17   Fromista to Carrion De Los Condes

Chapter 18   Carrion De Los Condes to Terradillos de los Templarios

Chapter 19   Terradillos de los Templarios to Calzadilla de los Hermanillos

Chapter 20   Calzadilla de los Hermanillos to Mansilla de las Mulas

Chapter 21   Mansilla de las Mulas to León

Chapter 22   León to Hospital de Orbigo

Chapter 23   Hospital de Orbiga to Rabinal de Camino

Chapter 24   Rabanal del Camino to Ponferrada

Chapter 25   Ponferrado to Trabadelo

Chapter 26   Trabedelo to Portomarin

Chapter 27   Portomarin to Melide

Chapter 28   Melide to Pedrouzo

Chapter 29   Pedrouzo to Santiago de Compostela

Chapter 30   Father Bishoy

Chapter 31   One Door Closes, and Another Opens

About The Author

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This book, like Massacre at Sirte, Hunted, and Hiding in America, is dedicated to the twenty-one Coptic Christians beheaded in Sirte, Libya, in February 2015 by members of ISIS and to all others who have been killed by terrorists in recent years because of their religious beliefs. It is because of them and their stories that I began this journey. The names of those twenty-one Copts are as follows:

Milad Makeen Zaky

Abanub Ayad Atiya

Maged Soliman Shehata

Youssef Shukry Younan

Kirollos Boshra Fawzy

Bishoy Astafanous Kamel

Samuel Astafanous Kamel

Malak Ibrahim Sinyout

Tawadros Youssef Tawadros

Gerges Milad Sinyout

Mina Fayez Aziz

Hany Abdel Mesih Salib

Samuel Alham Wilson

Ezzat Boshra Naseef

Luka Nagaty Anis

Gaber Mounir Adly

Essam Baddar Samir

Malak Farag Abrahim

Sameh Salah Farouk

Gerges Samir Megally

Mathew Ayairga

And Jesus, walking by the sea of Galilee, saw two brothers, Simon called Peter, and Andrew, his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fishers;

And he saith unto them, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men;

And they straightway left their nets and followed him;

And going on from thence, he saw other two brethren, James, the son of Zebedee, and John, his brother, in a ship with Zebedee, their father, mending their nets, and he called them;

And they immediately left the ship and their father and followed him;

And Jesus went about all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, and preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing all manner of sickness and all manner of disease among the people;

And his fame went throughout all Syria and they brought unto him all sick people that were taken with divers diseases and torments, and those that were possessed with devils, and those which were lunatick, and those that had the palsy; and he healed them;

And there followed him great multitudes of people from Galilee, and from Decapolis, and from Jerusalem, and from Jordan, and from beyond Jordan.

—Matthew 4:18–25

PREFACE

Though the books in this series are works of fiction, they are based upon what actually happened in Sirte, Libya, in February 2015 to twenty-one Coptic Christians who were beheaded by Muslim extremists. There were no survivors, so no one knows what took place after the men were captured and before they were killed. In order to tell this story, I created the character of Mekhaeil Zacharias, a sixteen-year-old boy who was spared by ISIS and instructed to tell the world what he had seen.

In the first book of this series, Massacre at Sirte, Mekhaeil revealed what happened to him and the others after they were captured. Through it, readers were given an idea of what might have actually happened to those men before they were killed. Hopefully, they gained a better understanding of why such things continue to occur in the Middle East, parts of Africa, and now throughout Europe and other parts of the world to this day.

In Hunted, Mekhaeil’s journey took him to India to escape ISIS assassins who changed their minds after he became a celebrity and sought to kill him. In that book, he learned of Mar-Thoma Christians, Dr. Stanley Jones, Methodists, Hinduism, Buddhism and what life on a farm was like, among other things. He experienced the Maramon Convention and slowly began to see that the world was a much bigger place than al-Aour, Egypt, where he was born and raised.

In Hiding in America, I continued the narrative as Mekhaeil traveled to America and discovered a life of freedom and all that it entails. In it, Mekhaeil’s story turned inward as he, like many of us do at times in our lives, lost his way. He did so amidst the splendor and glitter of New York City—a far cry from the life he knew in al-Aour. Most of us can remember transitioning from childhood to adolescence and beyond, though few of us have experienced the things he did. He was just a sixteen-year-old boy trying to become a man a long way from home.

In this book, as in the other three, I have created new characters, some of whom are totally imagined, though much of this story comes from things I experienced and people I met on my personal trek on El Camino. However, I have fictionalized or embellished much of what I was told in order to conform it to Mekhaeil’s experience and story. Most of the names of the people in this book are fictitious. Some are not. For the most part, everything in this book regarding historical facts and the places I visited is true to the best of my knowledge, information, and belief.

Going forward, it is my present intention to write one more book to complete Mekhaeil’s odyssey through the early years of life. To do so, I intend to travel to Israel and walk in the footsteps of Jesus. Though Mekhaeil doesn’t exist, nor does anyone like him, we are all like him in some respect. His transition, like ours, involves discovering his own identity, belief system, and purpose.

It remains my hope that by telling more of Mekhaeil’s journey I am telling a story that helps readers better understand the problems that exist in the world that are caused by and result from the differing beliefs of Christians, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Hindus, and all other religious people. None of us truly know the answers to those deeply rooted questions about the origin of life and its meaning, though there are many who believe with a fervor that their views are correct and will not tolerate anyone who disagrees with them.

Though a small minority of people denies or doubts the existence of a supreme being, a creator, Allah, Yahweh, a Great Spirit, or God, an overwhelming majority of people believe that such an entity exists. Mekhaeil is a Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ, but he has become aware of the fact that most religious people, not just Christians, believe that there is only one true God, by whatever name or definition, and his stated purpose in life is to find a way to stop human beings from killing one another in the name of their God. But first, he must decide what he believes, just as we all must.

He is torn by his deep and fervent commitment to his home and his church, but he is influenced by the views of people like Siddartha Gautama, Mahatma Gandhi, Dr. Stanley Jones, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Malala, and others. However, no one, not his parents, his friends, or the president of his country, has a greater influence over him than Father Bishoy.

While questioning so many things during this time of his life, he loses his moral compass entirely. He doesn’t know what to believe. In Hiding in America, Father Bishoy tells him not to return to Egypt or to the Coptic community until he figures that out. Is he a Copt? Or has he morphed into something else? It was at Father Bishoy’s suggestion that Mekhaeil decided to make a pilgrimage on El Camino de Santiago to discover the answers to those deeply personal questions.

Is his belief system purely one of coincidence or chance based upon where he was born and to whom he was born? Or is it firmly rooted in the depths of his mind, as it was for his brothers and the others who went to their deaths in Sirte on that horrific day a scant few months before? What is the truth? What is the truth for him?

I hope you find this book engaging and informative. It is not intended to be a personal dissertation on religion, theology, politics, existential thought, philosophy, or anything else. I am not speaking from a pulpit. I am a fellow pilgrim, literally and figuratively. I too am a peregrino. I too seek answers to those questions.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I thank those who have supported and encouraged me on this and other projects. I am particularly grateful to Vettereeth and Annamma Mathew and to those within the Coptic Church who have assisted me on this journey from the beginning.

I read many books in preparation for walking El Camino de Santiago and writing this book, including Pilgrimage by Paulo Coelho (Thorsons Publishing Company, 1997), A Pilgrim’s Guide to the Camino de Santiago by John Brierley (Findhorn Press Ltd, 14th edition, 2017), Hiking the Camino de Santiago by Anna Dintaman and David Landis (Village to Village Press, 3rd edition, 2016), I’m Off Then by Hape Kerkeling (Free Press, 2009), and Pilgrim Tips & Packing List—Camino de Santiago by Sybille Yates and Daphne Hnatiuk (2013).

I also watched several movies about El Camino before leaving for Spain, including Walking the Way: Six Ways to Santiago by Umbrella Entertainment (2014); I’ll Push You by Emota, Inc. (2017); and The Way, starring Martin Sheen and Emilio Estevez by Arc Entertainment (2010). I also found Bruce Bierley’s series on PBS called Sacred Journeys, which was about pilgrimages, to be of great interest.

Most of all, though, I would like to acknowledge and thank my fellow peregrinos who I met along the way. Their stories are of vital importance to Mekhaeil’s journey. They were the most memorable part of my experience on El Camino.

INTRODUCTION

A pilgrimage on El Camino de Santiago is a daunting task for a sixteen-year-old boy, or a seventy-year-old man, for that matter, but we both did it. I completed my trek over a thirty-one-day period in September and October of 2017, whereas young Mekhaeil did it in the early spring of 2015. Only three-plus months have passed in his world since that awful day in February when Mekhaeil’s two older brothers and nineteen others were beheaded by Muslim terrorists.

Much has happened throughout the world in the three-plus years since that day. Not long after, while the world looked on, ISIS captured the port city of Sirte and profited from the oil trade it provided. More than a year and a half later, the city was recaptured by the post-Gaddafi Libyan government, with the help of a bombing campaign that involved the United States and some of its allies. But problems caused by ISIS have escalated dramatically since then, as we all know, and those problems have spread to Europe and the United States in the form of numerous terrorist attacks and millions of homeless refugees.

However, as this book goes into print, it appears as if ISIS has been defeated, from a military point of view, but their ideology remains. Atrocities continue as terrorists called lone wolves wreak havoc in the name of ISIS. Many other groups with a similar ideology, including al-Qaeda, the Taliban and Boco Horam, still exist and must be reckoned with.

In December 2017, ISIS attacked a Coptic church in Cairo. In April 2017, on Palm Sunday, two Coptic churches were bombed in Alexandria and Tanta, Egypt, and dozens of people were killed. Four months earlier, another church in Cairo was damaged and people died as a result of a bomb. There have been many other incidents in the last three years in other parts of Egypt and throughout the world, and more are likely to occur. Copts and other Christians are still targeted by Muslim terrorists for no other reason than they are Christian.

During the three-plus months in Mekhaeil’s world, he was hailed as a hero in Egypt, only to become a fugitive, hidden first in Kuriannoor, India, and then in New York City, to avoid ISIS, who sought to kill him. During that time, he experienced many new things, things he never would have experienced but for the tragedy in Sirte. He wants to find answers and make sense of it all, but can’t. He wants to understand why people kill one another in the name of religion, as they have for at least two millennia, if not more, but can’t.

He now realizes that the Coptic Church is but one of many Christian religions, and he has learned of many other religious groups, such as the Hindus, Buddhists, and Sikhs. He hasn’t lost his faith, but he now questions it. What does he believe?

The World Book Encyclopedia defines the word pilgrimage as a journey to a holy shrine or other holy place made for religious purposes. People who make such a journey are known as pilgrims. In Spain, they are called peregrinos. Mehkaeil is a pilgrim whose purpose is to search for answers to his questions about his Coptic church and all religions.

About a hundred years after the time of Jesus Christ’s crucifixion, Christians began making pilgrimages to Jerusalem and Rome. In medieval times, pilgrims began to visit the graves of various saints and other holy places. Such sites included the shrines to St. James in Santiago de Compostela, to Saint Thomas Becket in Canterbury, England, and to Saint Patrick, in Downpatrick, Ireland. There were many others as Christianity, and Catholicism in particular, dominated the European landscape, as well as the newly-discovered worlds of the Americas.

A priest would bless pilgrims as they set out on their journeys. Pilgrims often did so for a specific purpose, such as to seek that particular saint’s help—for example, to cure an illness—or they did so as an act of penance on account of a sin or as a means of expressing religious devotion. Pilgrims stayed at hospices or other places provided for them, often at no cost, where they could rest or obtain medical assistance. Upon their return, they wore the emblem of the place they had visited. Pilgrims returning from Jerusalem, for example, wore a palm leaf and were known as palmers. A scallop shell is the emblem worn by those who walk el Camino.

Today, pilgrims continue to visit those same centers that were famous in medieval times, but sites created to honor those who achieved sainthood long after the time when Jesus Christ walked the earth have also become popular destinations for modern-day pilgrims. These sites include the shrines to honor Saint Francis Xavier in Goa, India, and Saint Therese de Lisieux in France. Pilgrimage centers associated with visions of the Virgin Mary include Mexico City, Mexico; Lourdes, France; and Knock in County Mayo, Ireland. Protestants and Roman Catholics both make annual pilgrimages to the chapel of Our Lady of Walsingham in Norfolk, England.

Muslims who can afford it are expected to make at least one pilgrimage during their lifetime to the holy city of Mecca (Makkah) in Saudi Arabia. This pilgrimage is known as the hajj. In India, Hindus have been honoring their gods in such ways for several millenia.

Mekhaeil has decided to make his pilgrimage to Spain at Father Bishoy’s urging. He does so because he feels he must do penance for his sins of omission. He has done nothing wrong. He was and he still is a victim of what ISIS did to him and the others in Sirte. but he became enamored by Sophia and the bright lights of New York City and lost his way. In so doing, he forgot all about his fellow Copts and his Coptic Church. To him, this journey is more about discovering what he truly believes. Father Bishoy didn’t order him to make this pilgrimage; he is doing so of his own volition. He must make up his own mind.

In the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, we are told that Saint James, the son of Zebedee, was one of the very first to become an apostle of Jesus, after Simon Peter and his brother, Andrew. Saint James left Antioch not long after the death of Christ to spread the word to what was then called the Iberian Peninsula. Saint Thomas left Antioch and went to the southern tip of India while the other apostles went to the north and east. Saint James returned from Iberia and was beheaded by Herod in 44 AD, but legend has it, after his death, his bones and relics were taken back to Spain and buried there.

Nearly eight hundred years later, in the early part of the ninth century—819 AD, to be precise—a shepherd in northern Spain told a bishop that he had seen a star dancing over a field and had discovered human remains there. The bishop determined that the bones were those of Saint James, now called the Greater Saint James so as not to be confused with another apostle named James, who is called the Lesser. The bishop called for a small church to be built there and named it Campus de la Stella, or church of the star. People were encouraged to visit and asked to leave a small donation to help with the costs of building a larger and more fitting place to honor Saint James.

Reports of miracles began to circulate within the Christian community, which at the time encompassed most of Europe, though Spain was in the middle of a war with the Moors that would last until 1492. In fact, in 997, the Moors destroyed the church in Santiago. In 1075, construction of the church that stands there today began. Since then, millions upon millions of people have visited Compostela, especially during the Middle Ages.

The remains of Saint James and some of his relics are buried in a crypt within what is now known as the Cathedral de Santiago del Compostela, which is reputed to be one of the finest examples of Gothic and Romanesque architecture in the world. Saint James is the patron saint of Spain. To this day, people walk the way of Saint James in hopes of having a miraculous experience.

Mekhaeil isn’t expecting miracles; he hopes to find himself. He actually has no idea what to expect. He has no clue what awaits him. When I set off on my trip, I had some idea what awaited me, but it was dim, only what one can garner from reading books and watching movies. To talk the talk, one must walk the walk, as they say.

With that in mind, Mekhaeil’s pilgrimage along El Camino de Santiago, the way of Saint James, begins, high up in the Pyrenees mountains of Southern France, in the tiny hamlet of St. John Pied du Port.

PROLOGUE

I see. And have you been saying your prayers and following the teachings of your church all this time, Mekhaeil, even though you haven’t been able to go to church? Father Bishoy asked.

There were no Coptic churches in India, and I didn’t think there were any here in the United States either until I happened to find Father Jonah’s church while out walking around the neighborhood one day, completely by accident. But no, I haven’t, I admitted.

He sat back, and the expression on his face changed completely. His smiling eyes turned dark, like the darkness I had seen in the eyes of Mrs. Deeb, Mrs. Abanoub, and the Muslim at Maramon.

So, Mekhaeil, what I’m hearing and seeing is that you have forgotten about us … all of us. Is that true?

That’s not true, Father. I think about my family, my country, and my church every day. I do.

But it sounds as if you are ready to leave all of that and make a new life for yourself here in America, as so many people in the world wish to do. That’s true, isn’t it? he asked.

I lowered my head, knowing that what he said was true, or at least it had been before Sophia had said those things to me yesterday. I hesitated before responding, but he was waiting for me to say something.

Isn’t it, Mekhaeil? he persisted.

I have to admit that I have had those thoughts, Father. That’s true. When I went to the Statue of Liberty and read all about the immigrants and refugees who came to this country, and still come to this country, I thought that I was one of them. I did, I said.

And there is nothing wrong with that, Mekhaeil. There is nothing wrong with that, he said, but what about all of the things you told your family, your country, and your church that you were going to do with your life after what happened to you and the others at Sirte? What about all of that?

His words hit me like a brick. It was as if he had slapped me across the face to wake me up. I leaned back in my chair, put my hands over my eyes and rubbed them, and said, I’m not sure, Father. I’m not sure about a lot of things. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life.

There was a long silence. Then Father Bishoy asked, Are you still a Copt, Mekhaeil? Are you still a Christian? What is it you believe?

His words reminded me of the things Demetrius had said to us the night we were preparing to die, and of the things Cyril had told us, and of what Abanoub, Theo, and the others had said about being a Copt, and of how they had all gone to their deaths unwilling to deny Christ, even at their darkest hours.

I kept my hands over my face, not wanting him to see my eyes, and said, I don’t know, Father. I don’t know what I believe anymore. I’m here all alone in this country, and right now I’m just afraid that I have lost Sophia forever. That’s all I can think about. I can’t get her out of my mind.

There was another long pause before he said, So are you questioning your faith?

I hesitated before responding, and he persisted, raising his voice ever so slightly, Are you?

I guess I am, Father, I said.

And what do you think your father and your mother would say to you if they were here now?

I lowered my head. They probably wouldn’t be too happy with me.

Probably? he asked.

They wouldn’t be happy with me, I said.

And what about Father Ignatius and the families of all of the men who died that day in Sirte? What would they think of you?

They wouldn’t be happy with me, either.

And what of Pope Tawadros?

Same thing, I said.

And President el-Sisi? Even though he’s a Muslim, what would he think of you?

He wouldn’t be too proud of me either, I said.

And what of Touma, Guirguis, Demetrius, Cyril, Raghib, Rushdi, Abanoub …

With my hands still over my eyes, I started to cry as he went through all their names. I knew he was right. They would all be ashamed of me. At that moment, I too was ashamed of myself. I had betrayed everyone, even myself. Maybe most importantly myself.

Father Bishoy stood, walked around the table to my side, and brought me to my feet. Then he put his arms around me as I wept and said, I love you, Mekhaeil. We all do, your parents, your family, your friends, your church, your priests, your fellow Copts, your fellow Egyptians—everyone. We love you, but none of us want to see you like this.

I didn’t say anything. I began to shake and felt a cold shiver run through my entire body even though it was warm inside my apartment.

I’m glad that I am the one to find you first, just as I was the one to find you that morning in Alexandria. You’re the same little boy, aren’t you, Mekhaeil, just trying to find your way in this world? Don’t be ashamed. Remember who you are and remember what it is God wants you to be, he said.

When I didn’t say anything, he went on, Think of what Malala would do or what she would say to you if she was here.

I hadn’t thought about Malala in weeks. That caused me to straighten up a bit. They had shot her in the head and almost killed her, but she hadn’t been afraid. I had been a baby, just like that day in Sirte.

I wish I had died with all the others, I blurted out through my tears.

Father Bishoy squeezed me hard and said, Remember who you are, Mekhaeil, and who it is God wants you to be. You were spared for a reason.

We stood there for several minutes, neither of us speaking. I thought of all the things he had said and of how cowardly I had been. I was a living lie. I was ashamed of myself.

I think you’ve lost your moral compass, Mekhaeil, and I want you to find it before you come back home, he told me.

But how will I do that, Father? What should I do? I asked.

Pray to God, he said. Ask him. I think you should take a spiritual journey and find out who you are and what you believe.

CHAPTER 1

The Journey Begins

W hat am I doing here!

It wasn’t a question; it was a demand. It demanded an answer from my innermost essence, whether that was my mind or my soul, I wasn’t sure. I was lost. Somehow I had taken the wrong road out of St. Jean and was walking down a road I had already walked up and down three times. Somehow I had been turned around so many times that I didn’t know which way was up, let alone east or west, north or south, and I was tired…and it was raining. Actually, it was a desperate cry for help.

I really didn’t know which was the right road to Roncesvalles. I grabbed my bible—the Brierley book on El Camino—and studied the map for the fiftieth time that day. It was of no help. I knew I hadn’t gone too far from St. Jean, but I didn’t even know how to get back to there.

I threw my backpack to the ground in disgust and yelled some profanities, some of which undoubtedly included God, but it didn’t matter since there was no one around to hear me. What was I doing here? I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. I was totally unprepared for this.

Fortunately, there was a shed of some sort about a hundred meters down the road, apparently for children to sit in while waiting for a school bus. I got under it and sat down. I had been walking for more than six hours and the only thing I was sure of was that I had gone in the wrong direction.

I had asked a dozen people the way to Roncesvalles, and everyone had told me something different. The fact that no one spoke English and I didn’t speak French didn’t help. I knew there were a couple of ways to get there, but I couldn’t understand how I kept getting turned around as I did. I was frustrated almost to the point of crying.

I was miserable. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, which made things that much worse. I’d read all about the hostels where pilgrims stayed, and I’d seen them in the movie, The Way, but until I actually experienced a night in one, I really didn’t know what I was in for. It was worse than I expected.

The day before, after arriving in Barcelona early in the morning, I had taken a four hour train ride to Pamplona and then a bus to St. Jean. It was late in the afternoon by the time I got there, and I followed the others off the bus to the pilgrim office, which was still open even though most everything else, except for several restaurants, was closed. I knew that I had to get something called credentials there and have a stamp put on it, which would document the start of my journey. I also needed to find a place to stay.

There were dozens of people waiting in line to do the same thing. Six or seven people sat behind tables to assist us. Fortunately, one of the people, a woman, spoke English. I joined her line.

When it was my turn, her first question was whether or not I had a place to stay for the night. When I told her I didn’t, she immediately made a phone call and found a place for me. She wrote down the name and address and assured me that I would be welcomed there.

Then she took my Israeli passport and began writing down my personal information as she chatted with me about why I was making the trek and if I was prepared for the challenge that awaited me. She had an accent that I wasn’t familiar with, so I asked where she was from.

She looked up and smiled. Ireland, Mr. Schwartz. And my name is Fionna. I’m pleased to meet you. Then she asked, And who will you be traveling with?

When I told her I was alone, she said, You’re a little young to be doing this on your own, aren’t you now? Her accent was beautiful. It sounded as if she was singing to me. She was an older woman, old enough to be my mother, or grandmother even, with red hair and blue eyes.

I smiled and told her, I’ll be all right, but thank you for your concern.

She smiled back and said, You’re young and strong. I’m sure you’ll be fine. There’s no danger on El Camino. Just be careful where you step, and don’t lose your passport, money, or this. She handed me back both my Israeli passport and the Camino credentials, but not before placing the first stamp on it.

Buen camino, Mr. Schwartz!

St. Jean was a small town with a population of less than a thousand, according to my Brierly book. It was nestled at the bottom of a valley and surrounded by mountains. The bus trip from Pamplona, though it wasn’t all that far, according to my map, had taken almost two hours and we had climbed through narrow, winding roads, and then descended through more narrow, winding roads most of the way.

On my way out the door, I picked up a small map of the town. I saw that there were just two main roads leading into the town, with several side streets, and that was it. I had no problem finding the place she had found for me, which was only two blocks away. The sign outside read simply, Albergue.

The man at the desk took both my passport and credentials, stamped the El Camino document, took information off my passport, and then said, Dix euros, sil vous plait.

I handed him a twenty and he gave me ten back.

Nombre quatre. Bon camino, he said.

He could tell that I didn’t understand what he had said, so he held up four fingers and pointed me in the right direction. I entered the room and saw that there were ten bunk beds in it. No one else was there when I walked in, but backpacks sat on all of them except the bed on the top in the far corner.

I put my backpack down, took off my shoes, and climbed onto the bed. I didn’t bother taking off my clothes. I hadn’t slept much on the plane ride and was exhausted by what had been a full twenty-four hours of traveling. I fell asleep quickly, but I was awakened every time someone came in. A man in one of the beds close by to mine snored loudly, and people kept getting up