A Million Steps by Kurt Koontz

and stamping credentials. Some see her unofficial presence as an intrusion, preferring to hurry by to avoid interaction. I sit beside her and observe myself judging them as they are judging her.”
    This description of an aging hospitalera made me think of all the miscellaneous people in my life who have provided some type of service to me. How many times have I forgotten to even recognize these people as individuals instead of some type of personal servant? So many people cross our daily paths, yet busy schedules or a preoccupation with another time and place shutter the door to friendship. Every person has a story that needs to be heard. This reminded me to open my gate and let them into my life.
    On this day, I passed through Logroño, the second of four large cities on the Camino. Right at the entrance to the city, the sun shone on the arches of a Roman bridge reflected in the still water below. I reached for my pink Canon PowerShot camera housed in a pink Case Logic pouch, attached to the left chest strap of my backpack. The easy access made it simple to take a snap. I took multiple exposures of this masterpiece as it unfolded before my eyes. It changed each minute as the sun rose in the sky. The vibrant colors of the buildings and the gray stone of the bridge were brilliantly reflected in the smooth water.
    My Camino guidebook suggested that pilgrims leave their cameras at home to avoid any opportunity to distract them from living in the Now. I thought long and hard before overruling the author and taking my camera. On the first few days, I took a reasonable number of pictures. As the trip progressed, I could not stop taking pictures. Just as the music sounded better on the Way, I could not pass these amazing sights without recording them. With a clear mind and a focus on the moment, sights and sounds were amplified. Walking through the villages was like spending time in an art gallery. A subconscious glacial shift was occurring in my head and heart.
    After crossing the well-photographed bridge, I found myself in the University district. As I passed a large church, the door opened and I was face-to-face again with Sang Ha. We shared a laugh, asked a stranger to take our picture, and walked until it was time to once again say goodbye.
    As I got deeper into the heart of the city, a strange sensation came over me. I had passed through Pamplona, the first large city on the Camino, early on a calm and pleasant Sunday morning. Logroño on a weekday was busy with crowded sidewalks, traffic snarls, horns honking, and general chaos. I could not see a smile on any of the faces of the local people in this city. I understood that they were not on a pilgrimage vacation, but not a single smile? Toward the end of the city, one stranger made my day with two words: “Buen Camino.” I was not depressed but truly saddened to realize that most people just go through the motions of life with little time for joy.
    One small joy for me in this city was stopping at a nice hotel to use their restroom.
    As a pilgrim, I understood that local businesses might view me as Americans see vagrants in large cities. I had no economic value and smelled like a guy walking six to eight hours per day. Instead of barging into the hotel like I owned the place, I asked for permission from the man at the front desk. The kind gentleman granted my wish. Walking into a clean bathroom was a simple pleasure of life that had been nonexistent since St. Jean. I found myself surrounded by marble walls with at least five urinals. Large oak doors provided privacy for the spotless white porcelain toilets. The mirrors sparkled and the three sinks offered abundant hot water. At home and during most of my previous vacations, this was the life I took for granted. Until something is gone, its value seems to diminish with familiarity. Like many things on the Camino, happiness is found in some very simple places.
    Toward the edge of the city, the Camino took me through a large