The caminos began in 2012, when Victoria and I took off in the rain, stopping at the Iglesia de Santa Maria on a gloomy Sunday morning. The church was locked but encircled with flowers.
Was this a wedding? Then, a brusque blond doña drove up, nodded to us, and without a word, unlocked the ancient church doors.
The sanctuary was full of Santa Marias! The dona then led us over a small footbridge and we walked through a portal into Paraiso. Dazed, we followed the wet carpet of flowers up and down cobbled stone streets. It was the feast of Corpus Christi.
As suddenly Paradise opened, it closed off. We turned right and met the hard concrete wall of an overpass.
I came to expect the festival of Corpus Christi on later Caminos, but that first unexpected moment was pure magic.
I learned this over and over on the camino. The pilgrimage isn’t holy; your attention makes it so. And sometimes, you see it, the holy walking with you.