I don’t know about you, but the idea of writing an ‘about me’ section has always been kind of terrifying for me. Like, where do I even start? 32 years of life wrapped up in a few paragraphs online for the whole world to see would usually have me running for the hills.. But, since you so graciously clicked my blog and all, I feel like I owe you at least that much! So, here goes nothing!

My name is Cayla, with a C. Just like the other 40 Kayla’s I know, my mother was a big fan of Days of Our Lives in the late 80’s, so naturally she named her first child after her favorite Soap star. I was born, raised, and still live in Nashville, Tennessee. My roots run very deep around these here parts, like, super deep. Turns out my family sorta owned most of Nashville at one point, but that was generations ago. By the time I was born, all riches from said landowners was looooong gone. I grew up a bit more nomadic than the average kid because, well, we were super poor. I mean, the kind of poor where my kindergarten teacher picked my up for school because we didn't have a car. (shout-out to Ms. Humbert!) The kind of poor where a happy meal was a luxury, a Walmart outfit was couture compared to the usual goodwill garb, and potted meat was an actual staple in the cupboards. Ya’ll I didn’t eat in a restaurant until I was like 10..and Shoney’s barely counts as a restaurant even in Tennessee. We moved all the time because neither of my parents were all that great at things like holding down jobs or other adult responsibilities, you know, like paying bills on time. Therefore Twenty-two moves by the time I was 22 just seemed normal to me. In and out of relatives homes, an apartment here, a duplex there, the barn house, the spider house, my best friend’s bedroom, a boyfriend’s basement, and some regular old (like really old) houses in between. Let’s just say there isn’t an area of middle Tennessee that I haven’t taken a shower in. Now, for most, this life could have easily been a traumatic one, and for many years, I suppose I didn’t see my childhood in the brightest of light. .. See, all the moving around, never knowing where we might wind up next eventually did have a positive outcome. It made me realize that home isn’t ‘where the heart is’ but rather home is where ever you are and whatever you decide you want it to be. It also taught me to be very tight with with my monies, because for real though, ain't nobody got time to be poor! I learned from my parents very early on that there were 2 paths in life, one that would lead to the place that they wound up, and one that would lead me as far away from that crazy life as possible. I chose to get away.

I have been fascinated with far away places since I can remember having memories. My dreams of seeing all corners of this planet we share are what forced me out of my comfort zone and pushed me to take my first ‘real’ trip. I was 23, working as a cocktail waitress at a high volume beer bar, when I first heard about the long walk I would eventually take my life on. I listened to George, an over-the-top, larger than life frat boy type, telling his buddies about how he was leaving for a month long vacation to Spain. The girls at the table started chattering about how he has to visit Las Ramblas and Sagrada Famiglia while he is in Barcelona when George interrupted them. ‘No, I’m not going to Barcelona, I am going to walk the Camino De Santiago.. It’s a 500 mile pilgrimage across northern Spain.’ I thought the dude was out of his mind, or maybe I had served him one to many bushwackers that night! A pilgrimage? Like, where you walk some holy trail while repenting your sins to the deity of your choice? What the hell kind of vacation is that? Doesn’t he know there is a beach in Spain? Why on earth would someone want to spend a month walking when there are high-speed trains all over the place? Little did I know, I’d be on my first transatlantic flight to do the exact same pilgrimage just 2 years later.

I had an audacious goal, I dared myself to live outside of the box I’d created, I saved every penny I had for 8 months, and off I went. 38 days, 790 kilometers, a 25lb backpack, 33 Spanish cities over 3 regions, 30 something alburgues, a whole lot of blisters, even more bottles of wine, and endless stories from new lifelong friends later, I became a Peregrina del Camino. A true Pilgrim, with a Compestella to prove it. This first trip of mine was so much more than a vacation could have ever been and not a day goes by that I am not reminded of the lessons I learned along the way. My hope for this blog is to inspire those like myself, and those who aren’t, to take big leaps and never be afraid to take your life on a journey to somewhere you’ve never been. The most important thing that I learned on my Camino is that the only thing you have to do to get to where you want to go is put one foot in front of the other. Oh, and you don’t have to be rich to travel, you just have to want to.