As some of you know, when I was 20 I took a year off from university and spent most of it traveling. About 6 1/2 months of it was in Western, Central and South Asia--Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, and Nepal. When I arrived in Kathmandu in December 1973 it was a magical place at a magical moment. It was a little-traveled place until the mid 1960s when hippie-freak hardcore travelers started arriving, either coming overland from Europe along the silk route, or through Southeast Asia from Australia and New Zealand. Infrastructure was minimal. It took 19 hours to get a phone call through to the States; you applied at the central post office and when it was ready they sent a courier to notify you. Most of the roads were dirt, and there were something like three paved roads in the country outside of Kathmandu. There were no streetlights, few cars, and only one hotel to international standards. There were a handful of guest lodges and rooms available in private homes and the main gathering places were a bunch of pie shops on what was known as Freak Street. The Western travelers were an extraordinary bunch, with a disproportionate number of artists, writers, musicians and other creative folk. The reigning heroes were Allen Ginsberg, Bob Dylan, Jack Kerouac, Joni Mitchell, William Burroughs, John Lennon, and the like. It was a creative heaven.

When Terry and I went back in 1982, it had changed radically. Kathmandu was still a magical place, with its ancient temples, shrines, and palaces, warm friendly people, fantastic smells and sounds and sights everywhere. But roads were paved, streetlights lined the main thoroughfares, you could essentially direct dial an international call, and there was a huge range of hotel options, ranging from very basic to 5 star, replete with Olympic size swimming pool. Bus loads of Japanese tourists and their cameras crowded the streets. It had become a major tourist center, a stop on the Asian grand tour. When I tried to show Terry the home in which I had rented a room for 7 weeks, not only was the house gone, but the whole neighborhood had been razed and rebuilt. It was great for the local economy and I'm sure many if not most of the locals welcomed and embraced it. But that untouched quality of just a few years earlier was gone.

My friend Rich walked the Camino about 15 years ago and he recently mentioned that during his entire walk he encountered something like 6 Americans. That brought into high relief how extraordinarily different today's Camino is to how it was then. During my walk I've talked to many dozens of Americans, and overheard conversations of literally hundreds. Not to mention all the people from loads of countries around the world. The popularity of the Camino has skyrocketed and continues to do so. Each year thousands more people do it than the year before. Popular movies like "The Way" and books like Paolo Coelho's "The Pilgrimage" have brought the Camino into the popular mindset. The guy I walked with a while back who guides a spiritual Camino each year or two said that in Europe doing a portion of the Camino is seen as a great, cheap two week physical vacation. And for Spaniards, doing at least the final 100 km to get the certificate seems almost like a national sport.

Mostly I think it's a good thing. More people get to have this amazing experience and absorb Spanish culture. The infrastructure is growing by leaps and bounds, with new albergues, pensions, bars and restaurants opening all along the route. Even in the few years since I walked short portions of it in 2010 and 2011, I've seen a tremendous change. Here in Galicia, tons of buildings are being renovated, and I wouldn't be surprised if much of that is a result of money being pumped into the economy by pilgrims.

But it does change the nature of it. Especially in this last portion, the mood is different. Though sometimes you still have stretches of silence and solitude, more often than not the path is crowded and noisy. I've seen people throw trash on the ground. Garbage bins are overflowing. Huge crowds of kids go by--I actually stopped today and let a group of 65 high schoolers pass me, loudly chattering in a high-pitched mating-ritual cacophony. I'm trying to keep an open mind and open heart and see that it's all a positive thing, but honestly it can get a little trying at moments. But who am I to complain? Ultimately I'm just another schmo adding to the crowd.

Today's walk, from Arzua to the beginning of Pedrouzo, was a little under 12 miles. I know it's subjective, but the last couple of days have seemed like perhaps the least interesting of the entire Camino. Much of it has been in tree lined woods with limited views and past rather ordinary farms. Nice enough, but it could be pretty much anywhere. The stonework in the villages blows me away, but there have been very few truly distinctive buildings, and far fewer churches than previously. It actually surprises me that this is the part of the route that is so disproportionately traveled; there have been far more culturally interesting and physically beautiful sections.

That said, I'm down to the wire. One more 13 mile walk and I'll be in the center of Santiago. I'm excited to finish, but sad that it'll be over. I'm really pleased to be ending feeling as good as I do. I had some rough spots, but I'm feeling really strong right now and I'm looking forward to striding into town tomorrow.