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Putting my hand in my pocket, I already knew what I would find. Nothing. My wallet was gone

The sun beats down on Plaza del Santo, the small, hot, and dusty, central square of Santo Domingo de la Calzada. Anyone standing in the square for even a few minutes will notice a steady stream of hikers arrive, take off their backpacks, lean their walking poles against a wall, and marvel at the buildings around them. They have arrived at one of the most important, and famous, landmarks on the pilgrimage trail to Santiago de Compostela. On one side of the square sits a Parado

“Failing to prepare is preparing to fail” - Proverb I laid out the contents of my rucksack on the bed and gave everything a proper once-over. The goal was simple: try to keep it under 9kg. Any more than that and the weight pressing down through the spine and hips would soon turn into aching joints, sore shoulders, or worse, blisters. The rule of thumb was clear enough: around 10% of body weight. For me, that gave a ceiling of roughly 8.8kg. Time to work. There is something od

I wait expectantly in the dark. I know they are coming, they always come. The first glimpse is the little dot of light, gently bobbing in the distance, following the path down from the crest of the hill. It gets bigger as they approach, occasionally sweeping the path, making sure they don’t miss the yellow arrows pointing the way to Santiago. They won’t of course, here it is one single, winding path. They can’t go wrong, but best to check, just in case. The sun rises on my ri