Saved with a Spoon

Day 1 On Camino Frances from Leon to Santiago de Compostella – a 3 week journey

We’ve started the Camino.

Some people walk it for reflection. Some for adventure. Some for reasons they don’t fully understand until much later.

We, it turns out, are walking it for stories.

Not the kind you plan — the kind that happen when things don’t quite go the way you expected.

It Started Innocent Enough

Only 30 km ahead of us today… which means plenty of opportunity for “fun things to happen.”

As a young girl, I always dreamed of being saved by a knight in shining armor. Naturally, he came with his own horse — and not just any horse. At least 17 hands high. My dad was a jockey, so standards mattered. The knight needed broad shoulders and piercing blue eyes. No exceptions.

What I did not consider in my dreams were my three primal fears.

First: spiders. I do not like those eight-legged creatures. In fact, I don’t even like them when they have six legs. As a girl, one fell on me and my solution was simple — I pulled my dress over my head. If I couldn’t see it, it no longer existed. Problem solved.

Second: heights. I avoid them wherever possible. I once walked across a bridge in Ronda with tears streaming down my face, completely unable to look at how far Mother Earth was below me.

And third — not a big one, I always say — small spaces.

I’ve told Johan before:

“If I go to the bathroom and I’m not back in three minutes… come find me.”

Well.

Today, I went to the bathroom. Or “the toilet,” as they say in Spain — which makes sense, because there is absolutely no bath in that small space.

Everything was fine… until it wasn’t.

I finished, reached for the lock… and the door wouldn’t open.

I tried again. Still nothing.

Now I am fully aware that I am alone, in a small space, with a door that is not cooperating. This is not ideal.

I knocked dramatically on the door, and called out to Johan.

A man appeared on the other side of the door and started speaking rapid Spanish. My entire contribution to the situation was:

“No habla español.”

Which did not feel like enough.

There was a pause. Some more talking. Possibly instructions. Definitely not understood.

And then… suddenly… the door opened.

There he stood.

My knight.

No shining armor.

No horse.

No piercing blue eyes.

But he did have a spoon.

Apparently, I was not the first person to get stuck in that toilet, because he knew exactly what to do. A quick maneuver with the spoon, and just like that — freedom.

I have never been so happy to see a man I did not know.

What this blog is and isn’t

So this blog is not going to be a guide.

It’s not going to tell you where to stay or what to pack or how many kilometers to walk.

It’s simply going to tell you what happened.

The good moments. The uncomfortable ones. The slightly absurd situations you couldn’t make up if you tried.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve already learned, it’s this:

You can plan the route.

You can pack the bag.

You can even train for the distance.

But you cannot plan the moment when someone shows up with a spoon and saves your day.

And those are the moments worth writing down, and sharing with others.