Text and original photographs by Svitlana Ramer

We were running out of water. It was one of the hottest days of our pilgrimage through Podillia. Our group had been walking for hours when we spotted an elderly woman working in her yard in the tiny village of Mezhyriv. We asked, somewhat hesitantly, if she might have some water to spare.

Her name was Halyna. She disappeared into her house and returned carrying a large jug of cold water and several glasses. She filled our bottles and insisted we drink before continuing. Only afterward did we learn that her own well no longer worked and that she had to have water delivered to her home. When we tried to tell her she had already given us enough, she smiled.

"Who would I be if I couldn't even give some weary travelers a little water?"

I have spent years studying why members of the Ukrainian diaspora return to Ukraine. My doctoral research explored diaspora tourism–the ways journeys to one's homeland shape identity, belonging, and connection. Standing in Halyna's yard that afternoon, I stopped thinking like a researcher. I simply understood.

My name is Svitlana Ramer. I was born and raised in Ukraine before moving to the United States in 2008 to pursue graduate studies. Today, I serve as the Honorary Consul of Ukraine to Indiana and as the co-founder and president of the Ukrainian Society of Indiana. Looking back, I realize that Ukraine has quietly shaped every stage of my life. As an undergraduate at Taras Shevchenko National University, I studied international tourism. My master's thesis explored Ukraine's destination image, and my doctoral dissertation focused on diaspora tourism and the experiences of Ukrainian Americans returning to their ancestral homeland.

For nearly two decades, I have studied Ukraine, written about Ukraine, advocated for Ukraine, and built bridges between Ukraine and the United States. Yet despite returning to Ukraine nine times since the full-scale invasion, I realized something surprising. I had rarely had the opportunity to simply experience Ukraine. Every visit revolved around meetings, conferences, humanitarian initiatives, educational partnerships, or diplomacy. I was constantly moving – but rarely slowing down enough to truly see the country I loved.

For years, I searched for a different way to experience my homeland. I considered hiking in the Carpathians or exploring traditional craft regions, but organizing a multi-day journey from abroad felt daunting. Then, almost by accident, I discovered Camino Podolico. A former classmate involved in developing domestic tourism in Ukraine shared posts about one of the Camino guides. Curious, I began following the official Camino Podolico page. Until then, I had only associated the Camino with Spain. I had no idea the European Camino network extended into Ukraine. The moment I discovered Camino Podolico, something inside me lit up. This was exactly what I had been searching for: a structured way to walk across Ukraine, discover its villages, landscapes, history, and people – not from behind a windshield, but one step at a time.

I decided to walk the entire Camino Podolico – from Vinnytsia to Kamianets-Podilskyi. Although the route can be completed in two sections, I wasn't sure when I would next have the opportunity to spend ten uninterrupted days walking across Ukraine. If I was going to do it, I wanted to experience the whole journey. From June 18 to June 27, our group covered approximately 250 kilometers – about 25 kilometers each day. The rhythm soon became beautifully simple. Wake before sunrise. Walk. Talk. Rest. Arrive in a new village. Share dinner with new hosts. Sleep. Repeat.

Some nights we stayed in monasteries, others in campsites, family homes, dormitories, and one unforgettable traditional Ukrainian khata. We walked through sunflower fields, forests, rolling hills, and centuries-old villages. We sang when our legs grew tired, crossed rivers, climbed hills, pushed through stinging nettles, and ended our days around tables filled with homemade meals prepared by local families. This was not tourism measured by attractions visited. It was measured by conversations. By hospitality. By the generosity of strangers.

When people ask whether Camino Podolico met my expectations, I tell them it exceeded them. I thought I came to slow down. I thought I came to see Ukraine. But somewhere around the fifth day, as our group reflected on the meaning of pilgrimage, I realized I had come seeking something deeper – healing. That realization changed the rest of the journey. There were difficult days. We walked through intense heat, rose before dawn, and learned to appreciate every patch of shade and every drop of drinking water. Toward the end of the pilgrimage, I caught a cold and had to spend one day resting while the group continued on.

At first, I felt like I had failed. But that morning our guide still invited me into the circle to draw one of the daily intention cards we had been reflecting on throughout the journey. Mine read: "Today is another opportunity to allow yourself to live a little softer". Those words became one of the greatest lessons of my Camino. Sometimes healing isn't found in pushing harder. Sometimes it begins when we allow ourselves to rest, receive help, and trust that the journey continues even when we pause.

For anyone outside Ukraine considering Camino Podolico, my advice is simple: come. If you love hiking, history, authentic cultural experiences, and meaningful human connection, this route deserves a place on your bucket list. Come expecting Ukraine – not Spain. Camino Podolico is younger than the famous Camino routes of Western Europe and continues to grow thanks to passionate guides, volunteers, nonprofits, and local communities. That means the experience feels wonderfully authentic. Many villages operate primarily in cash. English is uncommon in rural areas, and cell service occasionally disappears. Rather than inconveniences, I found these to be reminders that I had stepped into a different rhythm of life.

For international visitors, I strongly recommend joining one of the guided groups. Our guide handled logistics, accommodations, meals, and route planning while also sharing the history of the region and introducing us to local communities. Instead of worrying about navigation, we were free to immerse ourselves in the experience.
As for gear, a few items proved invaluable: trekking poles, trail running shoes, merino wool socks, and a lightweight buff or bandana for dusty roads. Before leaving, I spent several weeks walking with a loaded backpack and stretching regularly. It made a tremendous difference once the pilgrimage began. But the most important thing to pack is curiosity. Some of your favorite memories won't be the landscapes. They'll be the people.

As I reflect on Camino Podolico, I keep returning to my doctoral research. Years ago, I studied how journeys to one's homeland strengthen identity and deepen a sense of belonging. Walking Camino Podolico allowed me to experience those findings personally. There is a profound difference between visiting a country and walking through it. Between reading about rural communities and sharing dinner at someone's kitchen table. Between driving past villages and drinking water from Halyna's glass.

For members of the Ukrainian diaspora, I believe Camino Podolico holds extraordinary potential. It offers something few heritage tours can: an opportunity to reconnect with Ukraine slowly, humbly, and relationally. It reminds us that our homeland is not only found in Kyiv, Lviv, or Odesa. It also lives in villages where grandmothers insist on feeding strangers, in forgotten castles lovingly preserved by local historians, and in families who open their homes to weary pilgrims. That is the Ukraine I hope more people will discover. 

To the incredible people developing Camino Podolico, my message is simple: please don't stop. You are building far more than a hiking trail. You are preserving history, strengthening rural communities, creating cultural exchange, and giving Ukrainians around the world a new way to come home. For years, I dedicated my career to serving Ukraine. Camino Podolico reminded me why I fell in love with her in the first place. And perhaps that is the greatest gift any pilgrimage can offer – not simply taking us somewhere new, but bringing us home by the longest, most beautiful route imaginable.