I’m not one to have a “bucket list” nor do I proclaim New Year’s resolutions. I’m finding the older more experienced I get the less I worry about long-term planning, or pretty much making any plans at all.  Perhaps it has something to do with retirement and the level of flexibility and freedom it offers.  Or, maybe, it’s just because I’ve stopped worrying about what might happen, opting instead to live in the here and now.

In an attempt to make our travel life a bit more streamlined, I’ve been searching for the perfect travel bag for years. If we were just packing for our upcoming Portuguese Camino trek, it would be kind of a no-brainer.  It’s because we have to pack for the Camino and also pack for the days before and after the Camino, that’s making it a bit tricky.  I need the perfect travel bag.  Don’t we all?

In April/May of 2015 we walked 350 miles across Spain following the Camino Francis.  When we finished, I said to Abi, “Well, that was incredible but I will never do it again.”  Ha! You know what they say about never say never, right?  The Portuguese Camino is calling and it has been for a few years.

I went looking for a feel good story to write and here’s why I’m writing about The Camino, A Toddler & The Yellow Envelope.  Not your average post title, right?  But there’s a definite story behind the words.

A Return to Santiago de Compostela

After 35 days and 350 miles we walked in to Santiago de Compostela, Spain, on May 17, 2015.  We were beyond tired and physically beat.  The next day we witnessed the pilgrims mass at the Cathedral and garnered our certificates of completion from the pilgrims office.  The day after that… we boarded a train for Porto.  Our 48 hours in Santiago were not much more than a blur of exhaustion.

The best laid plans.  I’ve always embraced the belief that life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.  A well-known phrase quoted by many, but a guiding force in my life.

I can’t be 60-years-old.  I simply cannot be 60.  Six-oh-no!  When did it happen?  How the hell did it happen?  I remember my mother at 60.  Sixty was my mother, not me.  Sixty sounds so old. But, the day has arrived. No matter how I fought it. It arrived. Today.  My birthday.  Can I just skip this day?

We walked away from Estella on the morning of day seven, after spending a 2nd night in an attempt to allow our bodies to get used to the idea of walking… walking… walking.  It was the first of only two times we would spend a second night in one place while walking the Camino de Santiago.

I’m beginning to understand why people return to Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago more than once.  When we reached Santiago, the end of our journey, I was beyond exhausted and thought to myself, okay, that was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Ask anyone who has walked the Camino de Santiago if they know what a Spanish Tortilla is and I’m betting they’ll say, “Yes!”