The Camino is not always beautiful. Sometimes it is flat, grey, and very long. That is not a design flaw.
Nobody talks about the boring parts of a pilgrimage. The literature of the Camino — the memoirs, the films, the Instagram accounts — tends to present a curated sequence of epiphanies: the dawn over the Pyrenees, the moment in the cathedral, the conversation with the stranger that changed everything. What it tends to omit are the six hours across the Meseta on a grey Tuesday in October when nothing is happening, the path is absolutely flat, and
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