Many would agree with me that 2023 could just end early, because so far, nothing good has come out of it. One disaster after another, disappointment after disappointment. But the biggest disappointment of all was that I disappointed myself—because I didn’t listen to my intuition. This year, I lost my sense of purpose and my faith in people.
Out of sheer desperation, I ended up walking into a church one day, even though God himself knows that’s not exactly my cup of tea. But I quickly scurried out again when the priest said, “We are on this Earth to suffer.” 🥳🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️🙏💣
I could sum up my 2023 in one sentence: HUMAN MALICE KNOWS NO LIMITS. Just when you think things can’t get worse, you step on another landmine and realize it can. Especially if you hang around people too much.
I can't end the year early, but I can go on a long holiday—two months—to restore my faith in humanity and maybe let a smile creep back onto my face. To stop feeling sorry for myself, because I’m honestly starting to get on my own nerves, and I’m not great company to myself, let alone to others.
So, I bought a plane ticket to Spain again. Out of all the crap we waste money on with online shopping, a plane ticket is still the best investment—beats any material purchase.
Spain is known for its endless beautiful beaches, flamenco street dancers clapping castanets, and bullfighters dancing their deathly waltz in the arenas. Spain is flamenco, paella, sangria, bullfights, tapas, Picasso, jamón, Don Quixote, Pedro Almodóvar, the Inquisition, Antoni Gaudí, Madrid, Barcelona, football—and, of course, the Camino de Santiago.
Spain is green mountains melting into the Atlantic up north, proud and solitary castles, and medieval towns tucked deep inland. It’s a country where you meet people from all over the world, because Spain is home to the Camino de Santiago, the Way to Santiago. Everyone walks it for their own reasons, and those reasons are as many as there are hikers. Most of them aren’t exactly positive, so I created an unwritten Camino rule: never ask a fellow hiker why they came. Ask them instead if they enjoyed today’s stage, what inspired them. Better to begin a potential friendship with some good vibes. There’ll be plenty of time for darkness along the way.
So yes, it’s walking again. And wild stories wrapped in laughter. Time to get some rest—from people who nearly fried my brain. Some people are Olympic-level champions at stabbing you in the heart. I mentioned Hitler a few too many times this year. One day I even impressed myself by asking whether Hitler had any pets other than the Jews. Then I remembered—he did have a German shepherd named Blondie. Pretty soft name for such a sadistic creature. That was a red flag for me—it was time to shut down that way of thinking, and fast.
Anyway, ahead of me lies a 2000 km journey starting in Biarritz. I had two options for buying the plane ticket: Bilbao or Biarritz. Since Bilbao is 120 km away from my official start in Irun, and Biarritz is just 30 km away, I chose the latter. Also, I’ve never been there. I’ll start walking straight from Biarritz because long bus rides make me want to scream.
This year’s plan is to combine three Caminos into one: the Camino del Norte, Camino Finisterre, and the Camino Portugues. I’ll walk the Portuguese one in reverse, so my final destination will be Lisbon, not Santiago. And once I (hopefully) reach Lisbon, I’ll continue to Faro, in the south of Portugal, where I’ve planned to meet a good friend, I met last year on the Camino Frances. That’s Lucca, who now lives and works in Faro as a tour guide and invited me to visit him at the end of my odyssey. He’s originally from Sardinia.
My first Camino del Norte was in 2018—I did it in 30 days. This time, I want to crush it in 24. That’s just one of the challenges. Another one is to try and walk 120 km in under a day. It’s the stretch past Santiago, through Muxía and ending in a tiny seaside town called Finisterre, which people call the end of the world. Most hikers do it in 3 to 5 days. I did it in 2. But my soul is restless—I want to see if I can shave off another day.
Another endurance test. But I’ve levelled up since my last trials.
Camino del Norte is also the toughest of all Camino routes that merge in Santiago. It climbs 20,000 meters in elevation and is about 820 km long. I’ll tackle the toughest parts at the beginning of this wild odyssey. After that, the Camino Portugues will feel like a walk in the park—it’s flat.
EXPLANATION – GOD, BRKO FROM BERLIN, THE POBALINA, AND TINA TEAM BUILDING
Before I left for my trip, I invited the Almighty for lunch, and we had a long talk. Mostly I talked—he listened and nodded. I explained that everything that happened to me this year is basically his fault. They say God only gives you as much as you can handle. I told him—he overestimated me.
He admitted he wasn’t exactly gentle this year, maybe even went overboard. But since I don’t like gentle, and excess is my comfort zone, he figured I could carry all these damn crosses. I didn’t feel like arguing, so I said we could make a deal: I’ll forgive him for the overkill if he lets me use the word “Hitler” for the rest of the year (in these writings it’ll be “Brko from Berlin”) whenever something pisses me off. That way, I might just survive this year without killing anyone.
I also told him he had to come along on this trip. He felt guilty for all the shitstorms this year and agreed. On one condition: that he joins us. Since compromise is part of life, I allowed it—but only if he shows up when I want him to, not when he feels like it.
Thinking about it, it’ll be fun for my mind—sending Brko from Berlin to fuck off while he can only watch and listen. Back in the day, he was considered terrifying. In my imaginary world, I’ll be the one who terrifies him.
Brko from Berlin means a lot of things to me this year. Just to be clear—I’m not a fan. I just need him around so I can survive the rest of this year. Those who know my story know my Brko jokes are well-earned. But I promise to try and teach him something along the way—explain that what he did was not okay.
So, dear readers, if you don’t understand sarcasm, the solution is simple: unfollow me, unfriend me, block me—I really don’t give a fuck. My Camino, my writing.