25/09/2025 - I was drawn to them because I longed for it in myself.

Today has been an incredible day, maybe even the best on the Camino so far. I think it’s because I finally released the pressure to finish it quickly. I let go of the idea that reaching the end soon would make it better, and I surrendered to the path itself. I realized I’m not just walking, I’m on a quest. And despite the discomfort, the aching body, the lack of intimacy, the repetition, the few belongings, and the ache of missing people I love… there’s a part of me that adores this. A part of me that already knows I’ll miss it once it’s over.

So I gave myself permission to take my time. To walk shorter days if I need to. To stop comparing myself to those who rush on with their deadlines, or to the ones who endure the Camino as if it’s a punishment. That has been the hardest part, watching most pilgrims push 25+ kilometers every day while I sometimes choose less. There’s always that little voice whispering that I’m behind, not doing it “right.” But I choose to silence it.

When I walk, I’m not chasing the next town. I’m talking to myself, laughing, singing out loud, dancing with my hands in the air. Sometimes revelations come like sparks, sometimes silence just holds me. But that is the magic. The Compostela certificate at the end will be a nice reminder, yes, but the true treasure is this, the everyday life of the Camino.

Not every day has felt like this. There have been mornings when my body hurt too much, or nights when the endless snoring in the dorm made me want to scream. But even those moments carry something, and now that I’ve allowed myself to be fully in it, I can’t help but feel grateful for all that the Camino is giving me.

This morning was calm. I left the albergue at 7am without rush, since I already had a bed waiting for me. Kajsa had written to say she read my blog, and it made my heart soft. I love knowing you’re out there reading me, following me, even silently. It makes me feel less alone. Thank you.

I stopped for coffee, called my dad, then kept walking until Johanna rang on her way to work. We talked for an hour, drifting easily from one subject to another until she arrived and had to hang up. After that, I walked alone under the sunrise, music in my ears, and felt so at peace. Later, I stopped at a pilgrim truck for another coffee, sat in the sun, and shared a table with a Canadian man and a Dutch woman. They had met only eight days earlier but were already walking as a pair.

We spoke about the Camino. I noticed again how for many, it’s simply a beautiful journey, nothing too deep. And that’s fine. But when it was my turn to share, I couldn’t help myself. I unfolded everything, and I could see their eyes widen, reflecting on things they hadn’t considered. That’s what I love: when curiosity is sparked. To show someone they can let their thoughts wander further.

Because it’s easy here to hide in companionship. Many cling to groups out of fear of walking alone. And while I love sharing meals, laughing with strangers, I also know how to draw my line. Solitude is essential. You only overcome the fear of being alone by choosing it, over and over again.

We started talking about cravings, the things we miss. They said their beds, and baths. Baths especially, and it made me ache, because yes, I’ve been dreaming of that too. A hot bath with candles, a glass of red wine, classical music in the background. My body softening into the warmth. Heaven.

When it was my turn, I pulled out a little list I’d written in my daydreams:

– Galloping freely on infinite steppes

– Finally learning guitar

– Meeting the love of my life

– Writing an epic heroine’s journey

– Sweating on the dancefloor on mushrooms

I explained each one, and we laughed together. It reminded me how far my mind can go here, free to wander without limit. Maybe it looked like showing off, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt like sharing possibilities. Because I don’t think people have smaller dreams, I think they sometimes haven’t had examples of how to chase them.

I walked away with so much energy, glowing. My thoughts drifted back to something I’ve been circling: this man I want to call in. What three words would define him?

The first came easily: Adventurous. Someone who explores both inner and outer worlds, who takes risks, who embraces discomfort as growth, who loves to wander. Someone playful, audacious, fun. Someone who loves discovery, whether in the mountains or between sheets.

The second: Romantic. Someone who prioritizes love and tenderness. Who is devoted to partnership, who gives through small gestures, acts of service, words of care. Someone who chooses to love fully, who creates beauty from it. Because I deserve that.

The third was harder. I wanted to name the magnetism, the authenticity, the presence that lights a room without trying. Then the word came: Charismatic. Not beauty, not performance, but embodied presence. Someone who embraces his own contradictions, his shadows, his intensity. Someone who surrenders to what he is, without apology. That’s the kind of man I’ve always been drawn to: Achilles, Anakin Skywalker, James Dean, Heath Ledger. Men who burned with charisma.

And maybe I was drawn to them because I longed for it in myself. To have that same effect. To stir people, to inspire them, simply by existing. And out here, stripped of everything superficial, I’ve realized I already do. I am charismatic, not in the masculine way, but the feminine one. Through depth, vulnerability, wit, intensity, and the clumsy humanity I can’t hide.

My heroines have been my mirrors: Juliette, Anna Karénine, Satine, Arwen, Amélie Poulain, Sissi. All daring women, brave enough to be themselves. And yet their stories always end in tragedy or in being chosen by a man. As if women can only reach their peak through sacrifice, suffering, or love. Male heroes get glory, women get death or romance.

I want to rewrite that. Maybe that’s why I’m here: to create a heroine who has it all. To write the epic journey where love is a chapter, not the conclusion. Where her desires, her thirst, her full becoming are the center. Maybe I resisted love before because I feared it would mean the end of my story. But today, walking under the endless sky, I smiled. Because I can have it all.

And then, as if in confirmation, I reached the 400km marker to Santiago. People were celebrating, taking photos. I joined in, was pulled into a group photo by Koreans who cheered around me, and it felt like a celebration of everything I was feeling inside. As if life itself was reflecting back: yes, this joy is real.

Later, I arrived at my albergue, sat in the sun, and ate slowly. The Meseta feels like a threshold, a long straight bridge into the second part of this journey. I want to savor every step now. To keep revealing what’s inside me without fear. Because the more I step into authenticity, the more life gives back.

At dinner, I shared a table with a man who was alone. We ended up talking the entire meal about writing. He used to write but had stopped, buried under the weight of life and duty. And now, here, the Camino had brought him back to it. We exchanged authors, Elif Shafak among them. It felt like another gift of the Camino, meeting someone at the exact moment I was meant to.

Now it’s late. The dorm is silent except for the sound of breathing around me. I’m typing quietly, about to fall asleep. Today was magic. Not because it was easy, but because it was real.

I feel grateful. I feel alive. And I hope, wherever you are, you can meet yourself too.

With love, Loune.