On the heels of my dad’s death last July, a fellow pilgrim on El Camino de Santiago invited me to stay with her in the mountains outside of São Paulo.

Yes, please.

I had no expectations other than I’d spend my days writing in a charming mountain hamlet where I’d talk long into the night with people at my friend’s pousada,

hike to waterfalls, enjoying dives into unbridled beauty,

and trek a beautiful camino to La Piedra del San Francisco.

I’d effectively flown from one San Francisco to a...