The Land of Happy

Sometimes I think about my old life in the US. About the decades of commuting to and from a job. In the early years via mass transit. Then becoming an American car commuter in the flow of humanity going the same direction, to and fro, day after day. Often, heads down buried in a book or phone on a bus or train. Or on speaker phone in a meeting on the way into the office. My own bubble.

I used to feel stress just sitting in my commute. Worried I would arrive late. Or perhaps about a presentation or a looming deadline. Often texting someone ‘Where are we at with…?’ Not wanting to walk into the office without every single piece of pertinent information. Who knew what I might be asked in an elevator on the way up to my office?

‘Where are we at, Kelli?’

My life today couldn’t be more different than that. Mostly because I have no commute. No looming deadlines. And I sit and observe the flow of people passing me by, no longer worried about getting anywhere on time. And that distance has given me perspective. Especially a cultural perspective of those passing. I thought I would impart my observations here.

North Americans walk faster than any other Pilgrims. Heads down, they are the least likely to stop and chat. In general, they often won’t make eye contact. And they will wave you away if you greet them as they zoom past. Where they are going so fast, I have not clue. It would be almost funny if it wasn’t so sad. Many look glum. Like they just need to get this over with. Like they’re commuting to a job. In this case, ‘the job’ is completing the Camino. Box checked. ✅ But a missed opportunity at connection. If I ask in American english if they want a stamp, and if they actually stop, they ask how I knew they were Americans. I don’t want to tell them this, but usually you can tell because Americans often stab the ground with their their poles so hard they look like they are picking up trash in a park 🤪 Don’t worry, I’m American. I’ve done it myself.

South Korean people always take a stamp. It is the wife who will carry the credentials and she will get the stamp for the husband. They are friendly and will practice their 10 memorized words of español with abandon. Adorable. They make me smile.

Aussies are always up for a good chin wag, and they have their own stories to tell. Australians look the oldest. That’s what happens when you take fair-skinned people and colonize a country whose sun wants to blister you with skin cancer. These people are probably 30 but look 60! Ha! But they are friendly and open.

Germans are very circumspect, and pilgrims of few words. Stamp, please. Auf Wiedersehen. They are not a chatty bunch. Their credentials are the most orderly.

The Portuguese will stop for a stamp, and they will speak Portuguese to you like a machine gun. Even though your eyes are spinning – as your Spanish language skills are screaming at you that it has no idea how to decode it. In the end, most will say goodbye in ingles. They are just messing with me😉

Spaniards always stop and chat. Happy to tell me where they are from. Fascinated we live here ‘in Galicia?’ Then, they tell me about their town, city, province and ask me if I know it. Encouraging me to visit. Proud of where they live.

South Americans and Mexicans always stop. And they are usually smiling. Mexicans who live in the US, even Americans who have Mexican heritage living in Texas or Florida, will proudly say they are Mexican. I love hearing this.

But it is the Colombians who win the prize for happiest people in the world. I can always tell the Colombians. And I say so.

‘Let me guess. You are from Colombia.’

They smile, surprised. And I am 99% right. They are the happiest, and the kindest people. I don’t know what is in the water in Colombia but they should bottle it and sell it in the US and Canada to the North Americans whizzing by.

The Irish also stop, no matter what. They will be rushing down the trail and come upon me quickly, but then stop short and stand in line for five minutes behind a crowd for my stamp, before rushing down the trail once again.

Americans are more likely to walk alone. Especially older, retired men. And few of them stop to talk. Heads down, poles clicking. People from other non-white cultures tend to walk in friend groups and are more animated. Except those from Asian counties, like Korea, Japan, or China, who walk more quietly and, while together, seem to spread out on the trail. But they always want a photo with me. I must be in thousands of vacation photos in Asia by now. Especially those from Taiwan. I’m crushing there🤣

Of course, these are all generalizations. It’s not scientific, just my observations on one stage of the Camino Frances. I wish my countrymen would slow down a bit, lift their heads up off the trail. Look around and see the beauty instead of the pavement at their feet. Stop trying to ‘Make good time’ as my Dad used to say. In commute-mode. But everyone’s Camino is their own to walk.

Yesterday it snowed here in Lugo. Today, Pilgrims pulled up photos on their phones from their snowy walk from Portomarin to Palas de Rei and shared them with me as I stamped their passport. Wild, it’s nearly May. And I’m sure you can guess which friendly Pilgrims they were. Colombians, of course. Now I know my next holiday destination. To Colombia – The land of happy. If just for a glass of their magic water filled with smiling contentment.