Chantal in Cádiz

One thing that’s always a bit iffy when staying in hostels is the beds. The one at Casa Caracol, my hostel in Cádiz, was so incredibly comfortable I had to force myself to get up and start moving.

In the morning, Chloe, my hostel-mate, ventured out in search of some towels for us to sit on during our visit to the beach. Then she patiently walked beside me as I hobbled along to a spot she had scoped out the day before. The conversation was easy. The silence was easy. She’s an old soul - a creative wanderer, secure and steadfast. Before we even reached the beach, I knew she was a kindred spirit.

After a few hours relaxing by the water, we set off in search of food. I had one mission for Cádiz: to find some good pulpo (octopus), a dish I’d first fallen in love with on my Camino in Galicia. It’s something I never eat at home, and I was eager to taste it again. We made our way to a busy fish market, and before long we each had a plate piled high - pulpo for me, shrimp for Chloe. With no shade in sight, we ended up eating on a bench roasting in the sun!

After melting in the heat, we decided to wander over to Museo de Cádiz, a free museum full of fascinating historical artifacts. I tried to decipher the Spanish plaques, and we both marveled at the beauty and sophistication of the ancient relics. After a long day on my sore ankle, I headed back to the hostel to rest.

That evening, I joined the hostel’s Family Dinner. Around 8pm, I made my way up to the rooftop bar, where I met travellers from all over the world. The hostel served taco rice, and after weeks of restaurant meals, it was so lovely to have a home-cooked dish. Over a beer, I met Jamie from Northern Ireland, a fellow peregrino who’d completed the Camino Francés in June and was continuing his world travels while on sabbatical. It was so nice to have an instant connection with another pilgrim; we traded stories about our experiences and the quiet magic of the Camino.

I slept so well that night, rejuvenated by good food and even better conversation.

The next morning, I met Chloe at a cozy library café, where we sipped our tea and coffee - sometimes chatting, sometimes just watching people wander by.

We did a bit of browsing through secondhand shops, but after the previous day’s walking, I knew my ankle needed a break. I headed back to the hostel while Chloe continued exploring. Later, we met again for lunch at a restaurant a friend had recommended - delicious lamb chops and refreshing sangria. Chloe, who was doing a Sangria Tour of Spain (sampling a glass in every city she visited), wanted to return to a spot she’d discovered on her first day in Cádiz. But thanks to siesta hours, it was closed. So instead, we tried a dessert bar I’d hobbled past when I first arrived - a cozy speakeasy-style place serving crêpes, waffles, and cakes.

We each had a piece of cake and more sangria before parting ways for the evening: Chloe to the beach for sunset, me to the hostel for a shower and some packing.

That night, there was no Family Dinner, but the rooftop bar came alive again. Travellers took turns passing around an acoustic guitar, serenading the group. Chloe even sang a song she’d written herself. The conversations flowed easily - that’s what I love about travellers: we’re all naturally curious creatures. We want to hear about each other’s paths; what we’ve seen, what we’ve felt, and why. Before the night was over, Chloe gave me a tarot reading with a beautiful new deck she’d found at a thrift shop earlier that day.

This morning, many of the same travellers from the night before were up early for the free breakfast (three mugs of coffee for me!) before heading their separate ways. Some were just starting their visit in Cádiz; others, like Chloe and Jamie, were moving on. My bus to Lisbon wasn’t until the evening, so I spent the day in the main square near the hostel, mostly just sitting on a bench watching life go by. Tourists passed, cruise ships docked, locals sold their wares - and after a turbulent couple of weeks, I finally felt at peace, and like I was where I was supposed to be.

My hostel has a confessions jar. After breakfast this morning, I wrote my confession and left it in the jar for the next traveller. I’m sure it will find the person who needs to read it.

Hasta la proxima vez!