Last summer, I did something amazing.

I spent almost two weeks backpacking across Spain with a group from my school as we walked the Camino de Santiago, a medieval pilgrimage to the old city of Santiago.

That means two hundred miles were walked solely on foot (with the exception of a few cab rides as result of a couple of small, unfortunate injuries).

Why did I do this? Because I wanted to do something active. I wanted to learn more about the world, to experience a culture apart from my own and to do something so far out of my comfort zone.

It ended up not being the easiest thing I ever did, but it was one of the best experiences of my entire life.

There are obvious differences between New York City and largely rural northwestern Spain (although both oddly enough have Zara.)

But I don't like to think that my pilgrimage has nothing to do with my life here in New York.

In fact, I learned many a valuable lesson out there on the road, and I try to keep them in perspective even now in NYC.

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1. Life isn't all about nice stuff

When I was in Spain, I literally brought one backpack with me. It was one backpack, albeit large, but it was only one. That means that absolutely everything I brought with me was in that one backpack.

I had three pairs of pants, maybe three or four shirts, a few pairs of socks, hiking boots, and a pair of walking sandals, and that's all I had in the way of clothes. Everyone wants to look fashionable and fabulous on European vacations, and in other situations, maybe I would want to, too.

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But not this time. I didn't care what I looked like.

I clung to those few possessions I had with me, and soon, it felt like I didn't need or want anything else. (Except a Double Caramel Magnum bar here and there...)

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2. We should be nicer to one another

Some of the values that the Camino emphasizes include compassion and generosity, and these are things that you can expect to give and receive.

Out there on the road, I met a lot of people who were feeling and experiencing the same things I was.

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There were locals who set up rest areas after the most rigorous walks, where people like me could stop and rest or have some fruit, cookies, or juice to help reenergize.

These moments were the ones I was the most grateful for. I know that we New Yorkers are notoriously unfriendly, cold, and distant, but sometimes, maybe just once every million years, we should be friendly and welcoming.

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3. A small apartment is manageable

When you're out there on the road, you don't stop and stay in the fanciest, swankiest hotels imaginable.

You stop and stay wherever you can find room. Luckily, I had a bed to stay in every night, but these places still weren't the Holiday Inn.

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They were hostels, often just rooms where either my entire class of sixteen would sleep or in rooms where other travelers slept as well. (The worst of it was when my group stayed in a hostel with one hundred and sixteen bunk beds (or about two hundred extra people.)

Now imagine sharing your space to that degree. It even made my twin bed in my tiny childhood bedroom seem like a California King.

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4. The best foods are out there, so it's good to explore them

You don't go to Europe to eat the most American thing out there. That's just not cool.

I tried so many things and combinations that I never even imagined existed, like cured Iberico ham, sauteed, salted blistered pimiento peppers, and Spanish tortillas with egg and potato.

I also learned that a cheap (but filling) meal is totally possible.

Most bars or restaurants have a daily menu where you can get a three course meal-- appetizer, dinner, and dessert-- for under ten Euros.

This was probably one of the things I looked forward to the most after a long day of walking.

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5. Life isn't a competition

My best memory of the trip was one day where I walked for ten hours with two of my classmates and when we reached the endpoint, we immediately went to the first bar we saw for huge pint mugs of clara con limon (half beer, half lemon soda.)

Sure, there were people who made the same walk that took me ten hours in like four or five hours, but it wasn't about the competition.

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For me, I was being active and doing something extraordinary. It didn't matter if I couldn't make it to where I was going as fast as one of my classmates could.

It didn't matter that my throbbing Achilles' tendon defeated me somedays and kept me from making the walk. I was proud of what I was doing, and I wasn't there to race.

I was there to make it to Santiago on my own time.

If you enjoyed this article, find out Why You Should Always Live Your Life in the Fast Lane With No Regrets!

[Featured Image Courtesy: We Heart It]