23/09/2025
Reflections from Japan.
I never imagined myself coming here. The first time I heard about the Kumano Kodo was in 1993, after I finished my first Camino de Santiago. At the time, it felt impossibly far away — not just in geography, but in possibility. It belonged to a different universe than my own life.
And yet, here I am. More than thirty years later, I am finally walking the paths I once thought were beyond reach.
The first thing that strikes me is the landscape. It feels like stepping into a parallel world. There are people, houses, cars — the familiar signs of life — but everything else breaks away from my usual references. It’s as if I’ve entered a movie, but only now am I playing one of the characters inside the frame.
And then, the people. They, too, feel like characters in this film, moving according to codes I don’t yet fully understand. Their gestures, silences, and rhythms speak a language beyond words. To connect, I must remain calm, patient, and deeply attentive — because the non-verbal often reveals more than the spoken.
The trail itself is unlike anything I’ve known. It is both a museum of memory and a portal into something greater. Each step carries traces of Taoism, Shintoism, and Buddhism woven together. Shrines and statues appear, sometimes beyond comprehension. And yet the rule is simple: in case of doubt, bow, pray, offer respect. You surrender to what is before you, even when you do not understand it fully. In this way, the Kumano Kodo is not just a path but a lesson in discovering what is invisible. Walking here demands that you slow down and allow your senses to rise above the noise of daily life. This is slowing down on steroids.
And then there is the food — an unexpected teacher of patience. Dishes appear, each unique, demanding time to see, smell, and taste. It is impossible to rush. Eating becomes an explosion of flavors and colors. Eating here is to slow down, notice, and be fully present.
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