Porto to the Road North
Nobody warns you that the Camino will humble you before it inspires you. My feet had other plans from almost the first kilometre — blisters, plural, arriving with the kind of confidence that suggested they were planning to stay for the full twelve days.
But here's the thing about a bad start on the Camino: it slows you down just enough to notice the good stuff.
By the time I limped into Vila do Conde, most places had shut for the evening. There was one restaurant with its lights still on, and inside, sitting at a table like he'd been waiting there, was a guy from Puerto Rico, Sr. Felix. We were both just pilgrims looking for food. What followed was one of those conversations that seems to have no natural end — the kind where you cover your life story, your theories about everything, and somehow still find more to say. Hours passed. The food was excellent. By the time we finally called it a night, I had blisters, tired legs, and a new friend.
Day one. Not bad.
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