While I have heard spainish music while in Spain, I’ve been surprised by how much american music I’ve been hearing. And not just any american music: music that was popular when I was in middle school is what’s on the radio. There’s nothing like sitting in a café in Spain eating spanish food, and hearing It’s Too Late to Apologize floating in the background. It’s a little sureal, a little hilarious, and also feels a little wrong.

But that example is no where near my weirdest experiment.

Donnie, a guy I’ve been traveling with, and I stopped at an albergue/café/bar at 10 to get some food, as the breakfast typically available is not enough to carry you the 10 or so kilometers until lunch. We got there before the bread had finished baking, and the whole place generally had the air of a place that was just waking up and beginning to stretch.

Then some music got turned on. I didn’t recognise the first song, but it was definitly an 80s rock ballad. A couple of hungarian pilgrims we had eaten dinner with the night before arrived and sat down at the same table as us. One of the. Had his knee all wrapped up, and had done it wrong, so I offered to wrap it for him.

As I was beginning to wrap it, Eye of the Tiger came on.

I wonder what it is like to have someone who you barely know, who you barely speak the same language as, wrapping your knee while singing along to Eye of the Tiger.

So this experiment ended a number of days ago, but I’ve been exhausted or with lots of people or without consistant wifi for a while, so this post has been very delayed.

This experiment went pretty well, in my opinion. I messed up, of course. Complaining is so much a part of normal speech that it is difficult to cut out. But surprisingly, I had an easy time remembering to not complain about blisters, my knees, or the weather. Where I messed up was a rant about how in The Battle of Five Armies, the women of Dale were shown as going to fight, but were never actually shown as fighting, and how instead their bravery was only shown to highlight the cowardess of a man, for example. I guess that’s also an example of the kinds of conversations I have on the camino. People are always happy to talk about stories where the heroes walk a long way.

The questions that this experiment brought up for me never really go answers, even though the questions asked themselves on the first day. I asked myself: What is the value of suffering in silence? and How do you ask for help, if you need it, without complaining?

The first question had a bit of a shallow answer in that if you suffer in silence, you don’t annoy your travelling companions, and you seem like a generally agreeable person. The first day I did this experiment, I was traveling down from Roncevalles to Zubiri. That road is steep, and it rained all day. I didn’t have any blisters, but it was a hard day on my knees, and I was pretty miserable. But when it came to people asking how I was doing, what could I say? I said I was happy to be inside, or happy that my socks were dry, or something like that.

So I guess this experiment isn’t just about suffering in silence. While I don’t know what the inner value of limping down a mountain is yet, I do know the value of always having to find a silver lining. It makes you happier. It makes you take a moment to apreciate dry socks. And let me tell you, there is nothing in the world as wonderful as clean dry socks after a day of walking. Nothing.

I’m gonna have to cut this short. A large group of us are cooking dinner together, and I want to help. I think I have unfortunatly made myself known amoung them as the geoduck person, which is a reputation I really wish I didn’t have. Advice to other Greeners: if you don’t want this reputation, don’t even bring up geoducks. It leads to a very amusing conversation that won’t be forgotten.