Santiago #11 of 47. Spain is stunning, and I can’t imagine a better way to see the beauty than by walking through it.

Santiago #10 of 47. Are we at this cafe, or the one from Pamplona?

Santiago #9 of 47. Sorry I know you can’t unsee this, but I figure it’s part of a public service announcement and therefore necessary.

Santiago #8 of 47. This is what happens when you don’t understand the language.

Santiago #7 of 47. I lost it and went to the dark side. I chose comfort over the style of my hiking boots and finally joined the sock and sandal club of the Pacific Northwest.

Santiago #6 of 47. Mesmerizing rows of streets spoke into the center of the old quarter.

Santiago #5 of 47. Minimum pilgrim wrist accoutrements: a fit bit, a leather bangle with shell insignia, and a rubber thingy with pithy, profound statement.

Santiago #4 of 47. The short story of how one manages being an introvert on Camino, with an extroverted husband in particular, is you get up before him. And everyone else.

Santiago #3 of 47. Half in Spain, half in France, fully hungry. The boarder between France and Spain is very casual.

Santiago #2 of 47. Who knew a bed could matter so much? It wasn’t the walking, it wasn’t the hunger. It was our sleeping accommodations on the first night that put me over the edge.

Santiago #1 of 47. First Camino friends and we haven’t even started walking.