Xardín de Casto San Pedro

I realized once I arrived in Pontevedra, I was there during the height of the Pilgrims Festival, and the way people in Spain celebrate is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. After a day of exploring, I returned to my hostel to ice my legs, thinking the night would be a quiet one. But life had other plans. As I sat there, nursing my tired feet, I overheard a familiar accent—an Australian one, to be precise. To my surprise, it was Nicole, someone I’d met earlier on the trail! We quickly made plans to meet up for tapas and wine later that evening, setting the tone for an unexpected night of reconnections.

As the evening unfolded, I received a message from Tim and Nadine, the friendly Welsh couple I had crossed paths with just a few days earlier. They sent a video of people dancing in the streets and an enthusiastic invitation to join them. By the time I met up with them, the party was in full swing. Live music filled the air, and the streets were alive with energy. Tim and Nadine were already a few sangrias in, and it was clear the night was just beginning.

I reached out to Nicole and invited her to join us, along with her new trail friend and Eva, a woman from Germany I’d met along the way. Before long, we were all together, sharing drinks, stories, and laughter. As we swapped tales of our travels, I recounted some of my more unsettling encounters on the trail and joked about wanting hiking poles with knives hidden in the ends for self-protection. My new friends laughed, calling it the most American thing they’d ever heard. They were genuinely surprised that carrying knives is legal in parts of the U.S., and we ended up discussing how self-protection is something they rarely worry about in their own countries.

What struck me most during our conversations was how much everyone knew about American politics and current events. From Brisbane to Wales, to Germany, my friends had strong opinions and keen insights into what’s happening in the U.S. It was eye-opening to realize how tuned in the rest of the world is to our affairs, while we often know so little about what’s happening in theirs.

As the night wore on, it felt as though all the people I’d met on my journey were converging in one place, like a family reunion of sorts. We shared more drinks, told more stories, and reveled in the camaraderie. But eventually, we started to drift apart. The party was just getting started—it didn’t really kick off until around 11 PM—but we all had early starts the next day. We knew we’d pay the price during tomorrow’s walk if we stayed too long.

Everyone was heading the same way the next day, except for me. I had decided to take a different variant of the trail. As much as I’d enjoyed the company, I was ready for some quiet reflection on the road ahead. We hugged goodbye, exchanged promises to stay in touch, and wished each other *Buen Camino* before heading off to bed to prepare for another day of walking.

One of the hardest parts of traveling is meeting these kindred souls, sharing once-in-a-lifetime experiences, and knowing that our paths will probably never cross again. It’s a gift to connect with people from all over the world, but it’s also a difficult truth to wrestle with that I’ll probably never see them again. As I went to bed that night, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for these fleeting yet meaningful connections that make the journey so unforgettable.Read more