It's not all about the walking, the 10-15 mile days, one after another after another.  It's not even the potential or real threat of bulbous blisters, cranky knees or shin tendonitis. Forget about the stunning views or the idyllic Spanish villages or the Jesus and Mary statute in yet another jaw dropping church.  It's about a beer. It's about the nap.

Given our go-go-go lifestyle, it would be considered  irresponsible to, on a weekday let's say, have a beer or any adult beverage before 5:00.  Add to that a nap and you'd be considered a slothful lush. Only on vacation might you allow yourself the luxury of the midday slumber and preceded or followed by a foamy one.

Not so on the Camino.  If I'm correct, although I'm often not, I spent 18 straight days having a beer (or sometimes a vermouth), followed by a lengthy nap.  Both were well deserved.  My 18 days on the Spanish Camino de Santiago covered a bit over 200 miles--that's a half marathon a day.  Granted,  I did have a couple of rest days, but that didn't deter me from the mid-afternoon sipper and the subsequent snooze.  

After rolling into yet another small, quintessential village it was easy to spot a cafe (called a bar)  to find a cold one. In fact, they all stocked hard liquor, which would normally have been my first choice. But a gin and tonic was not as appealing as the tall glass of amber liquid, reminding me of the golden shade of the grain fields I had just walked through. Finding beer was easy, and many locales even had canned beer in vending machines alongside the Coke and Fanta.  No one seemed to care as we slipped off our shoes and socks, letting the dogs breath while we sipped the local draft under a patio umbrella. In fact, it's commonplace to see Spaniards with a cana (draft) or bottle of wine and a cigarette during the lunch hour, followed by an espresso and a cigarette in the afternoon.  

I'm a napper and I don't mind admitting it.  It seems like all the pilgrims were blatant nappers, too. Never have I had such kindred companions.  Mid afternoon, after lunch and laundry, you could find fully grown adults, splayed out on their bunks taking a nap.  It was quite a sight.

My beer and nap did not cut into anything pressing. There was no garden to pick at, daily eggs to collect, dog to quiet, or lint trap to clean.   Making the bed consisted of wadding and stuffing my silk sleep sack into its drawstring bag. I operated nothing with a  motor--no blow dryer, vacuum, blender, or car.  My list of daily responsibilities was short, very short, short enough to certainly allow for my beer and a nap.