I say goodbye to my friends and head to Barcelona airport. Once on the plane, sitting a few rows ahead of me, I spot a man who looks exactly like my cousin. It’s quantumly impossible for my cousin to be on this flight, but I remember that I’m on my way to the land of my ancestors, so it’s not strange to find similarities between its people and my family.

I land in San Sebastián. The airport is far from the city, and the only available bus won’t arrive for another half hour. I approach some Japanese tourists to suggest sharing a taxi, but they decline, so I’m left to wait.

As I wait, I’m overcome by the feeling of being in a completely unfamiliar place. I’m about to begin something I had only considered abstract until now. I find myself standing in the sunset of a cloudy day, in foreign land, with my entire life packed into a small laptop backpack for the next two weeks. I’m in a place that, until now, had only existed in my imagination. It feels as though I’ve crossed a portal. Time seems to slow down, as if I’ve placed it under a microscope, able to observe every fragment that makes it up.

The bus finally arrives, but as I board, I realize I don’t have any change for the fare, and card payments aren’t accepted. As I’m about to step off, the driver tells me to sit down.

I arrive at the hostel later than expected since the flight had been delayed. I go out for dinner at a Chinese restaurant and order a hearty dish. By the time I finish eating, it’s already 10 p.m. I return to the hostel intending to sleep early and start the Camino with energy the next day. However, the night begins with nightmares, followed by insomnia. I think I’m coming down with a cold.