6. What About Living?

Josip's English is impeccable. He comes from Croatia, but stayed for a year in New York City a long time ago. In fact, he speaks five languages, which makes me feel a little ashamed. I never mastered any language but my own, if that. I studied German, Spanish and Hindi long enough that I should be able to get by in them. But I can't.

Josip is talkative, I assume in all the languages he speaks. He's a big barrel of a man with shining eyes, an infectious smile and strongly stated opinions. And yet he shares them so companionably and doesn't seem disappointed if you disagree.

"Language is the key to truly experiencing a culture," he tells me when we stop along the way to order a cafe con leche. His Spanish is impeccable too. He chats easily with the barman.

Josip hopes walking 500 miles would help him shed a few pounds. He runs a popular restaurant in Croatia and, well, a taste here, a taste there . . .

"These tastes, they add up the weight," he smiles and finishes off the croissant we picked with the coffee.

He tells me the best seafood in the entire world is just outside his door in Zadar, Croatia. Strangely, the people of Galicia, Spain say the same thing. But I believe Josip. This man is convincing when it comes to passions. And his first passion after his family is food.

"My problem," he explains, "is I LOVE the food! I just see the food, just see it, and this!"

He pats to his softly rounding belly, a Whinnie-the-Pooh sort of pat, with a bit of a circular tummy rub at the end.

"It is a battle in my business."

I assumed lofty insights would flow from the Camino in the guise of the physical challenge or, say, the sudden and unexpected urge to prostrate myself in prayer (no urge yet). But after only an hour together on the path, wisdom comes in the form of this jolly restauranteur.

He talks about his establishment, whipping out his phone to show Joe and I a live stream video. He points out his father sitting in a corner booth. The live stream helps ease Josip's concern about his dad who has been sick. At the same time each day the elder man takes his seat and Josip checks for any stress on his face.

Josip's eatery has 100 tables in high season and half that in low. Many people have pressed him -- and banks have offered to make loans -- to expand.

"You should add a patio to make room for more tables," a friend often tells him.

But Josip isn't interested in expansion. After the Croatian War ended 25 years ago with a country torn to pieces, banks lined up like Godfather's (the movie kind) to "rebuild it."

He hates banks.

"What idiot thinks war is good? I tell you, the idiot banker!" Josip says. "The banks fund both the bombing and the rebuilding. Always it's about the money, always its about making more."

"Why do I need more tables? For more work? More money?"

"What about living?"

"I don't need more tables," Josip is clear.

"There is goodness in just enough. We don't need always to be growing, growing, growing. We need to be living."

Besides a little weight-loss, Josip's Camino is one of gratitude for the enough he has in his life.

"I have my health, my family's health," he tells us. "I am very grateful for my life, that I have just enough. That is why I walk."

I've been thinking a lot about these things since meeting Josip. What about living? Am I living with just enough? Are you?