ALICANTE – WHERE THE SEA MEETS THE SUN, AND I MEET MY OWN TWO FEET

Alicante. A city on Spain’s Costa Blanca where the sun clearly doesn’t have an employment contract but has somehow secured a lifetime residency. The sea is turquoise, the palm trees are basking in the sunshine, the cafés are full of people in absolutely no hurry, and life has that pleasantly annoying feeling that it really doesn’t need to rush anywhere.

In short, it’s the kind of place where you could happily lie on the beach, order a coffee, then another one, followed by a glass of wine, and pretend that this is all part of a very important life plan.

But me? I came to Alicante with a different plan. Well, if you can even call it a plan. I have approximately 1,200 kilometres ahead of me on the way to Santiago de Compostela. Because apparently, I haven’t walked around enough in this lifetime, and nobody has bothered to tell my feet that there are also holidays where you simply lie down and do absolutely nothing.

So, Alicante is my starting point. For some people, it’s the beginning of a holiday. For me, it’s the beginning of a new chapter in which my feet will soon take centre stage, while my brain will once again be wondering why on earth I do this to myself.

A castle that looks down on everything – including my life choices

Towering above the city is Castillo de Santa Bárbara, an impressive castle perched on Benacantil Hill. From up there, Alicante spreads out before you like a postcard: blue sea, a harbour, white buildings and rooftops sparkling in the sunshine.

The view is stunning. For a moment, you forget all your worries and feel as though life might actually make some kind of sense.

Then you remember that tomorrow you have to walk.

But let’s not dwell on that.

You can walk up to the castle or save some energy by taking the lift. Considering that I have 1,200 kilometres ahead of me, taking the lift would almost qualify as a strategic decision. Every step saved counts. At least, that’s how I justify my need for comfort whenever it suits me.

The old town, narrow streets and flowers that clearly have their lives together

Hidden beneath the castle is Barrio de Santa Cruz, the old quarter with its whitewashed houses, colourful flowerpots, narrow streets and stairways winding between the buildings.

This is the part of the city where getting lost is a pleasure. Deliberately, of course. Because if you get lost on purpose, it’s not getting lost. It’s exploring.

The streets are full of charm, little corners and details that make you feel you could easily spend a few days here. No schedule, no rushing, no wondering how many kilometres you’ve covered today.

You simply walk, look around and think how much simpler life would be if all paths were this beautiful and there were a café waiting on every corner.

The sea, the palm trees and a promenade made for taking life slowly

In Alicante, the sea is practically right on your doorstep. Playa del Postiguet is the city beach at the foot of the castle, where you can stroll along the sand, gaze out at the water and briefly forget that work commitments, bills and laundry exist. Especially the laundry, which never seems to wash itself.

Along the waterfront runs Explanada de España, the famous palm-lined promenade. Its pavement is made up of thousands of tiny marble pieces arranged in a beautiful wave pattern. Taking a stroll along it is practically compulsory.

Life here moves at its own pace. People sit around, chat, drink coffee, eat ice cream and watch the world go by. Nobody looks as though they have to solve three global crises in the next five minutes.

I admit, there’s something very appealing about this way of life. Perhaps I should give it a try myself. Although, knowing me, after two days I’d probably start looking for a map and planning my next route.

Mushrooms in the middle of the city? Why not!

Alicante can be a little eccentric, too. On Calle de las Setas, also known as Calle San Francisco, you’ll find enormous, colourful mushroom sculptures.

Yes, mushrooms.

Because apparently, even a city with a castle, a beach, the sea and a gorgeous old town needs a few giant mushrooms in the middle of the street. And why not? Life is serious enough as it is. Sometimes all you need is a walk among giant mushrooms to remind yourself that not everything has to make sense.

Nearby, you’ll also find plenty of bars, restaurants and streets where you can sit down and soak up the city’s atmosphere.

Food. This is where the serious decisions begin.

Spain is a country where you quickly realise that hunger isn’t the only reason to eat. Food is part of socialising, enjoyment and the whole way of life.

In Alicante, it’s worth trying the local rice dishes, especially arroz a banda, as well as tapas, fresh fish and seafood. And if you have a sweet tooth, nearby Jijona is famous for turrón, a traditional almond-based sweet.

There’s also Mercado Central, the central market, where you can get a glimpse of everyday local life, admire the food on offer and pretend you’re only going to buy one little thing.

Of course, things often turn out differently.

Luckily, you can’t take everything that catches your eye on the Camino. Your backpack has its limits, although my sense of practicality sometimes seems to interpret those limits rather selectively.

And then comes that moment …

Alicante is a wonderful city to explore, a place for slow walks and evenings spent sitting by the sea, simply watching the sun slowly sink below the horizon.

But for me, it means something else, too.

It’s the beginning of a journey.

A journey where every day will bring new kilometres, new faces, new places and probably a moment or two when I’ll wonder whether I’m entirely sane. A journey that will give me plenty of time to think, although I’m not entirely convinced that’s always a good thing.

When you set off on the Camino, you don’t take just a backpack with you. You also carry everything in your head. Worries, expectations, memories, questions and those things you like to imagine you sorted out a long time ago.

And then you walk.

Kilometre after kilometre.

Sometimes with a smile, sometimes with aching feet, and sometimes wondering why the idea of walking 1,200 kilometres seemed so much better yesterday than it does today.

But perhaps that’s exactly where the magic lies. You don’t need to have all the answers before you set off. Sometimes, taking the first step is enough.

Mine begins here, in Alicante.

A city of sunshine, sea, palm trees and giant mushrooms. A city where you could easily stay another day.

But the road is waiting for me.

And since I apparently still haven’t learned that it’s sometimes perfectly acceptable to stop and do nothing, I put on my backpack, check that I have all four pairs of glasses, enough cables and that trademark conviction of mine that somehow, everything will work out.

And off I go.

Camino de la Lana – a route for those seeking solitude

The Camino de la Lana is not your typical, crowded Camino. It’s a long, demanding and often very solitary route where you can walk for kilometres without meeting another pilgrim. It passes through quiet, remote places and requires good preparation, independence and a willingness to spend days without company or comfort.

The route begins in Alicante and winds its way through the Spanish interior towards Burgos, where it connects with other pilgrimage routes leading to Santiago de Compostela. Instead of the bustle of the coast, it offers wide-open plains, dry landscapes, vineyards, forests, small villages and long stretches where you feel as though it’s just you, your backpack, your thoughts and perhaps a sheep or two watching you curiously from the roadside.

This isn’t a route where you can count on finding a shop, restaurant or comfortable place to sleep every few kilometres. Stages need to be planned more carefully, and you have to keep a close eye on your supplies of food and water. Sometimes the next village is much farther away than you’d like, while the map looks almost offensively optimistic.

That’s precisely why the Camino de la Lana demands a little more independence. You need reasonable physical fitness, but also the ability to cope with the unexpected. Some days are long and exhausting; others offer so much peace and quiet that you start listening to your own thoughts, even if you weren’t particularly keen on hearing them in the first place.

There are no crowds of pilgrims you’ll bump into every day. Several days may pass before you meet someone heading in the same direction. That can be wonderful if you’re looking for silence, space and the feeling of having stepped outside the ordinary world for a while. But it can also feel rather uncomfortable if you’re used to company, spontaneous conversations and the sense of security that comes with being surrounded by other people.

Because it’s so remote, the Camino de la Lana remains one of the less-travelled pilgrimage routes. Only around 200 people walk it each year, making the sense of authenticity even stronger. You’re not walking here just to collect a stamp in your pilgrim passport or take a photo for social media, although there’s certainly nothing wrong with taking the occasional picture. You walk because you’ve chosen a route that demands patience, perseverance and a fairly good sense of humour.

The Camino de la Lana isn’t always comfortable, but it’s honest. It doesn’t romanticise the journey or promise that every day will be wonderful. Sometimes it gives you a sunrise over an empty landscape; other times, aching feet, wind in your face and the question of why on earth you chose this particular route.

Yet it’s often in those moments that something important happens: you discover that you can keep going even when conditions aren’t ideal.

And perhaps that’s the greatest gift this route has to offer. It doesn’t just lead you towards Santiago; it also takes you a little deeper into yourself.

Buen Camino! 🥾

You can find all the images below the Slovenian text.