The dream didn’t start here.
It started years ago—quietly, unexpectedly—when a story found its way to me and stayed.
What I didn’t know then was that it was taking root.
Growing in ways I couldn’t see.
Waiting for a time when I’d be ready to follow it.
And now, here I am.
Answering it.
The Camino de Santiago is a network of walking routes that stretch across Europe—France, Spain, and Portugal—all leading to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in northern Spain.
Traditionally, it was a Catholic pilgrimage to the shrine of St. James. Today, people walk it for many reasons—faith, healing, challenge, or simply the need for something more.
I’m walking it because my heart pulls me to it.
I imagine the cathedral will be something to stand in awe of one day.
But for me, this is not about the destination—that is not what calls me forward.
It’s everything that will happen before I ever reach it.
It’s about the wandering.
The slowing down.
The quiet moments where there’s nowhere to go but inward.
It’s about meeting myself along the way—in the stillness, in the questions, in the spaces I don’t usually give myself time to explore.
The word Camino means path, road, journey.
Literal.
Figurative.
And somehow… both feel true.
At its core, the Camino is a pilgrimage. A spiritual journey. One that holds both struggle and beauty, solitude and connection. Everyone is moving in the same direction, yet each person is walking their own path.
Comfortably, it feels like the meaning of life. We are all wandering—figuring it out as we go along. Doing it alone—together.
For my personal journey, I’ve chosen to walk the Camino Portugués route. Starting in Lisbon and ending in Porto—375 kilometres.
Along the way, I’m promised vineyards, Roman bridges, ancient monasteries, and quiet chapels tucked into the landscape.
There’s something about it that feels right for me—gentle, quiet, and deeply rooted in culture and history.
It’s said this route reveals itself slowly.
Step by step.
Like any meaningful decision in life, I’ve chosen a starting point—and I have a goal.
The plan is both lofty and flexible.
I know the general direction I’m heading, and to make it within my timeframe, I’ll need to average about 25 kilometres a day.
But I’m not holding myself rigidly to that.
While I’d like to think I’ll walk every step, I’m also giving myself permission to wander.
To follow curiosity.
To pause when something asks me to stay a little longer—
and to find another way forward if I need to.
This isn’t about perfection.
It’s about the experience.
I’m excited for the challenge—for the physical limits I’ll push, and the strength I might discover along the way.
But I’m not romanticizing it.
I expect days that feel effortless.
And days that don’t.
Days filled with quiet satisfaction.
And days where I question what I’m doing out there at all.
And maybe that’s the point.
I want to see what surfaces when there’s nowhere to hide.
I want to meet myself—fully.
The strengths.
The doubts.
The dreams that are still waiting.
And the mistakes and missteps I haven’t quite made peace with.
To look at them clearly.
To walk with them for a while.
And maybe, somewhere along the way, to let some of them go.
I don’t know exactly what the Camino will give me. But I’m ready for whatever it offers.
What started as a seed has become something more. And now, it’s time to see where it leads.
Here I come, Camino.
I’m glad you’re here.
Until next time…there’s more to come.
XO
Chasing Dreams 