This is also something I’ve been thinking a lot about lately. There’s much to be read about overcrowdedness of the Camino in 2024, and, of course, it would be our luck to opt for the by far the most popular route this year. So, what do I expect? Will this be a mad disaster?
Yes! But actually, no, wait. Well, okay, it could be: suppose nobody in the hospitality branch is noticing or they don’t care there will be people sleeping in the streets, or there’s simply not enough sheds and barns to put additional beds to. Some of these possibilities have higher probability than others, actually. Having to walk extra distances, or to taxi back and forth between places, or to overpay for beds – we don’t want that. Let’s see how much it helps to generally be a fair bit quicker than most. We used to keep winning the races to the public albergues, so why not this time? Add to this getting up at 5 in the morning and we have ourselves a good plan. I’ll write an update here to say how it went, if we survive the whole thing.
But what do we do with the whole “pilgrimage vs. tourism” thing? Are we pilgrims? Or tourists? Are we pilgrims who should be rightfully upset about too many tourists? As someone who has many times tried things he was new or bad at, I am generally very much against gatekeeping of any sort. If you think that you have the right of way in terms of spiritualness of your personal journey, while everybody else are here just because of the hype, well – feel free to keep thinking that, if it helps.
One fine October day, inspired by an extra cup of mulled wine in the middle of Montmartre, a thought occurred, which was very helpful to me and my wife. You come to a touristy place like this and are disappointed by hordes of people, annoying salesmen, all that. Why? Did you want the authentic experience? Like, did you expect lonely empty streets with occasional Van Gough lying drunk in the ditch? Just look at this place full of life – today. Think of what it was and what it’s become. Love the people as they are, tourists or artists, or pilgrims, or whoever. Talk to a loud American lady at the next table at a small roadside eatery, she might be sweet and kind. Yes, the place might not even be a cliche of itself any more, it’s something entirely different, but it’s alive. Love it for what it is, not for what it used to be. I actually do hope I will be able to follow my own advice.