~ wander.essence ~

I hated to leave my comfortable hotel on this cold and dark morning, but I had nearly 20km to walk.  After eating a hearty breakfast, I was on my way at 8:09.  Clouds were nestled into the folds of the mountains as I walked alone past the village cemetery and then through Os Valos Mamurria and on to A Brea.

A short woodland path at the back of Meson A Brea led uphill to Alto Rosairo.  In this spot, medieval pilgrims would begin to recite the rosary, thus the name. Before trees were planted here, views could be had to the peaks behind Santiago de Compostela.

I entered the suburbs of Palas de Rei.  This town straddles the camino and was a “compulsory” stop in the Codex Calixtinus, an anthology of background detail and advice for pilgrims, likely compiled from 1138-1145, following the Way of St. James to the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela.

It is said that the Visigothic king Witiza (701-9) constructed a palace here that gave the town its name. He was the last of the militant Arian heretics who held that Jesus was not human or divine, but supernatural, according to The Pilgrimage Road to Santiago.

Lestedo to A Brea (1.8 km) to Palas de Rei Pavillón (4.3 km) to Palas de Rei Centro (1.2 km)

I got misplaced in that town and ended up in a cute little shop with Laurel from Boise, with whom I’d talked while walking into Sarria. We went on a bit of a shopping spree for over an hour. I got a couple of necklaces, a bracelet, another buff, and a shirt. Laurel did more damage than I did.

In the shop, I also met two lovely ladies, Stephanie and Joann from Connecticut, who struck up a conversation.  They asked if I was Catholic and I said I was a fallen-away Catholic. They said they were practicing Catholics. As was so often the case with fellow pilgrims, we shared why we were walking the Camino. When I told them about my search for peace of mind over the struggles of my loved one, Stephanie promised to pray for him.

Someone high up in their Connecticut church knew of a Bishop in Germany who would be conducting a special mass for German pilgrims at 4:00 on Saturday; it would be a big mass and the group had paid 450€ for the Botafumeiro to be swung.  The Botafumeiro is a famous thurible, a metal censer suspended from chains, in which incense is burned during worship services in the Santiago de Compostela Cathedral.

I sent this information on to Darina by WhatsApp; we were confused because nothing on the Cathedral website said there would be a mass at 4:00 on Saturday.  I told Darina that I’d try to make it to Santiago before 4:00, that I’d try to leave O Pedrouzo by 6 a.m.!  I knew that the Cathedral didn’t swing the Botafumeiro at every mass, and being witness to that was one of my top desires for my Camino.

After leaving town, I crossed the N-547, and then the river Ruxián, and up into Carballal with its many raised granaries (horreos) back down to cross the N-547 again onto a eucalyptus-scented woodland path. Occasional cork oaks and thickets of bamboo hinted of the more temperate climate westward toward the Galician coast.

Finally, I crossed a marshy area into San Xulián, a classical Camino village with a tiny 12th-century church dedicated to Saint Julian.

Palas de Rei Centro to San Xulián (Xiao) do Camiño (3.4 km)

More granaries, more forest paths, more short ascents and descents as we dipped into a series of dry river beds.  The path continued down to the Rió Pambre, with birches, willows and narrow-leafed ash trees lining the banks; we crossed it at Ponte Campaña-Mato and stopped briefly at Casa Domingo for some cafe con leche. We climbed gently along the route through an ancient oak woods to Casonova.

San Xulián (Xiao) do Camiño to Casanova (2.3 km)

There wasn’t much in Casanova, so we entered into the quiet rural province of A Coruña, surrounded by woodland.  The Pass of the Oxen (Porto de Bois), the high point of today’s stage, was once the scene of a bloody battle between warring nobility. It was said that the stream ran red with blood all the way to the Ulla River.  We crossed over the provincial border at a scrap yard in Cornixa into O Coto.

Casanova to O Coto (2.7 km)

I continued through O Coto and then through an undulating track through woods, crossing a medieval bridge into the camino village of Leboreiro (field of hares), with its paved street, thatched granary, and 13th-century Romanesque Santa María Church (rebuilt in the 18th century). It has a stone tympanum of Virgin and Child over the main door.  The town boomed from the 11th to the 13th centuries, offering important support for pilgrims.

We then crossed the medieval Magdalena Bridge over the río Seco into Disicabo. The path carried us upward to the main road and over a footbridge to join a stretch of senda (track) separating the N-547 from an industrial estate.  After passing that endless path between factories and sheds, I crossed the elegant medieval 4-arched Ponte Velha into Furelos and stopped at another church there, Igrexa San Juan. This village once belonged to the Hospitallers of San Juan.

O Coto to Furelos (Ponte Velha) (4.6 km)

Through Furelos I went, and then through modern suburbs and the Romanesque church of San Pedro & San Roque beside a famous 14th century stone cross reputed to be the oldest in Galicia, Crucero do Melide, Christ in majesty and Christ crucified on the reverse.

I then made my way into Melide, with its declining population of 7,500, through a variety of pulperías and cafes.  The old part follows the typical medieval layout of narrow winding streets with shops, bars and restaurants serving the regional specialty, octopus, or pulpo.

The town was once an important market and transportation hub but curiously was largely defenseless.  In 1316, permission was granted to build a wall, but it was never finished. In medieval times, the Way was the town’s most important feature, with the town’s businesses and homes stretched in a long thin line along the highway. In 1575, many of the town’s 100 families were innkeepers.

Furelos (Ponte Velha) to Melide (Centro) (1.5 km)

After checking into Albergue O Candil in Melide, I went in search of the regional specialty, pulpo, and found the cavernous Pulpería Garnacha. I was hesitant to try pulpo because I imagined it would have that chewy texture that makes me gag, but the little suction cups were surprisingly not too chewy. Besides, Darina had highly recommended it, and she was always full of good advice.  Still, I had to look at those things and make myself not think about what I was eating. They were good, but I doubt I’d ever seek them out again. Prawns always call my name when I’m looking for seafood.

After dinner, the rain had let up so I walked through Plaza del Convento where I found the austere parish church, Iglesia de Sancti Spiritus, formerly a 14th-century Augustinian monastery.

I was nearing the end at this point, with only three more days to walk. 🙂

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*Day 44: Wednesday, October 17, 2018*

*33,190 steps, or 14.07 miles: Lestedo to Melide (19.9 km)*

You can find everything I’ve written so far on the Camino de Santiago here:

• Camino de Santiago 2018

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On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Seville, Second Helpings.

I got a late start, at 8:50 a.m., leaving Portomarín on a reddish dirt path in the fog with Darina, who I met at a cafe in town. We crossed a small bridge over the río Torres, and then up through a dense woodland lined with heather and gorse.  Since we were climbing, she soon left me behind.

The Spanish school kids swarmed around me, but I slowed to let them go past. Sunshine was in the forecast, but the fog didn’t burn off until 11:00.  I went through more forests, a long stretch of roadside walls past huge industrial complexes – an abandoned Fabrica and Aviporto fertilizer pant in Toxibó. Then again through pine forests with no sight or sound of traffic. There was a lot more climbing, 7.7 km to Gonzar, where enormous oaks stand sentry at the entrance to town. I had some potatoes bravas at café Descanso Peregrino, which was very busy.  There was a long line to the restroom.

According to The Pilgrimage Road to Santiago by David M. Gitlitz and Linda Kay Davison, today’s stretch of the Way was “famous as an open-air brothel.”

Portomarín to Gonzar (7.8 km)

The route out of Gonzar was easy. I stopped at Café O Castro in Castromaior for a cafe con leche and a KitKat bar, mainly so I could use the bathroom. The woman who ran the cafe had cute painted stones displayed: houses, cacti, a frog.  A glossy German shepherd sprawled in front of the café. I passed by the Romanesque church of Santa María and then continued through the village.

It was a steep climb to the first cluster of eucalyptuses in Castromaior.  This native Australian tree would appear without interruption from here on, as it had been planted to supply the paper industry.  Here I stopped to see the ancient ruins of the 4th century B.C. Castro de Castromaior, an ancient archeological site inhabited from the 4th century B.C. to 1 A.D.  Ruins consisted of vegetable houses and a strong house from the beginning of the Roman conquest.

I ran into Darina at the ruins and we explored together. I was annoyed by a young woman doing yoga on the ruins.  I felt it was so selfish because she was in everyone’s photos.  There were beautiful views of the surrounding countryside.

Gonzar to Castromaior (1.2 km)

From Castromaior, I walked through Hospital de la Cruz where the N-540 cuts through the ancient village.  It takes its name from an old pilgrim’s hospice, which still stands.

It was a stony and rather uncomfortable walkway leading steeply upward to Ventas de Narón.  There, I stopped at the tiny Romanesque Capela da Magdalena, a former hospital of the Knights Templar built in the last third of the 13th century.  Its emblematic stamp is available from a blind custodian. The area was the scene of a fierce battle in 820 between Moors and Christians. When the Knights Templar disappeared, the hospital fell in the hands of the Benedictine order.

At Ventas de Narón, I ran into Sheryl, Sharon and John who said they were staying there.  Sheryl said they were walking 16 miles on average each day.  I said, “You mean 16 kilometers?” She said, “No, 16 miles.” She was clueless.  She had been on an even keel with me since the Meseta and I rarely walked 16 miles, walking most often 16-20 kilometers (10-12 miles), more or less. Sharon had organized everything for her and she never knew where she was going the next day, or where she’d come from, or how far she’d walked. Honestly, up until that point, I’d never seen her walking at all; I always saw her sitting in cafés in towns! Darina and I got a laugh when we discovered we’d both only seen her in towns.

I also ran into Ellen from Germany several times today, but I didn’t feel like bothering to talk to her.

Castromaior to Hospital de la Cruz (2.5 km) to Ventas de Narón (1.4 km)

I climbed the Sierra Ligonde to the highest point of today’s route (756 m), passing dog kennels (perreras Alejo) before dropping down to the ancient hamlet of Lameiros right before Ligonde.  There I found Darina at a cafe, where we enjoyed a Peregrino beer and a veggie, asparagus and queso sandwich.  Darina and I walked together through Ligonde where we admired the ancient hamlet and its Cementerio de Peregrinos. Ligonde was formerly an important medieval stop on the way.  Charlemagne was said to have stayed here, along with other royals. It also had a pilgrim hospice.

Ventas de Narón to Ligonde (3.7 km)

Finally, we continued on through Eirexe (which means “church”), passing a 17th-century wayside cross sheltered by a gnarly oak tree in the ancient hamlet of Lameiros. The worn base bears death symbols, while the figure of the Virgin de los Dolores refers to maternity and the creation of life. Pilgrims leave painted stones and pieces of paper bearing messages, which eventually wash away.

We walked on through more eucalyptus groves, mixed with oak and beech, past A Calzada to the tiny hamlet of Lestedo and to my hotel, Hosteria Calixtino, arriving at 4:30.  Darina planned to stop further on, so we parted ways.

I showered and did laundry and then ate dinner at 6:30: red wine, ten giant prawns, and pineapple cake.  It was delicious!  There was a tour group here of fourteen people; someone named Sonia asked if I wanted to join them for dinner but I didn’t want the pilgrim menu and I was too hungry to wait until 7:30.  I asked them where they’d walked from today and they didn’t know.  Those were the tour group pilgrims for you.

Ligonde to Eirexe (0.6 km) to Opción (Detour) Portos A Calzada (2.1 km) to Lestedo (0.6 km)

In my hotel room, I saw a big cockroach-like bug crawling across the floor.  I tried to smash it with my sandal and thought I got it, but it rousted and scurried away.  All night, I worried about it getting in my bed!  Talk about bed bugs! Eek!  I was also having trouble turning on the heat in my room, so I showed them the Google Translate below, and after much confusion and ineptitude, they eventually warmed up the room.

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*Day 43: Tuesday, October 16, 2018*

*34,675 steps, or 14.69 miles: Portomarín to Lestedo (19.9 km)*

You can find everything I’ve written so far on the Camino de Santiago here:

• Camino de Santiago 2018

**************

On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Sáo Brás de Alportel, Then and Now.

I left my alberque at 7:30 but stopped at a cafe in Sarria for two fried eggs, bacon and cafe con leche. I felt quite heavy by the time I left at 8:00.  I walked past the 13th century Igrexa de San Salvador, or Church of Saint Savior, with its Romanesque tympanum over the main door.  Then I walked by the Mosteiro da Madalena, engulfed in darkness.  It was originally from the 13th century, later falling under Augustinian rule.

I crossed the río Celeiro over the medieval Ponte Áspera, or “Rough Bridge,” which describes its coarsely cut stone. Then the path carried us between a river and railway before crossing under a road viaduct to cross a stream.

We climbed through ancient woodland till we reached Barbadelo.  At Casa Barbadelo, I bought a colorful shell bracelet like Darina’s.

I walked in the rain again for much of the morning, mostly through forest paths lined with moss-covered stone walls.

Sarria to Barbadelo (Vilei) (3.6 km)

I stopped briefly at the Igrexa de Santiago de Barbadelo and its adjacent cemetery.  This 12th century Romanesque temple was once part of a monastery. The original monastery in 874 housed both monks and nuns. In 1009, it attached to the Monastery of Samos. By 1120, the monastery was for men only and supported a hospice.

The capitals of the temple doorway were decorated with scenes from the Bible and of the daily lives of the people of Lugo during the Middle Ages.  The cemetery surrounding the Barbadelo church had 5-6 stories of rectangular burial niches, similar in construction to hórreos, that circled the church like a fortress wall.

In the small “cow towns” along the way, I passed small herds of cattle and pastures, with birch, oak, and chestnut trees scattered here and there.  Small hamlets consisted of loose assemblages of rambling houses, often cobbled together with tractor sheds, hen houses or barns, and storage rooms. Next to every house was a garden of greens.  The smell of dirt, cow dung, grains, and chickens permeated the air.  Many houses had hórreos, or raised granaries, nearby. I was told many of them have ancient fertility symbols on top.

Barbadelo (Vilei) to Cruce (2.4 km) to Peruscallo (2.9 km)

I stopped to warm up with some Galician soup at at a crowded cafe, Mirador da Brea, in the town of A Brea.  This time it was made with kale rather than cabbage.

I continued through Morgade, past a stone chapel, and then down the track through the Ferreiros stream.  The earthy smell of cow dung hung in the air, and the ground was often wet underfoot.  It was a landscape of stone walls, moss and ancient trees.

Peruscallo to Morgade (3.1 km)

We climbed up narrow pathways with large granite slabs, laid so pilgrims could walk above the water level, up to Ferreiros, which means “blacksmiths.”

The Church of Santa María de Ferreiros has hints of Romanesque decoration and a double arched tympanum. The church once maintained a pilgrim hospice, which has since vanished.

Morgade to Ferreiros (1.4 km)

Finally, we began a descent into the río Miño Valley and into the tiny hamlet of Mercadoiro.  We found more moss-engulfed walls and emerald forests with wildly twisted trees. We ascended and descended several times over several kilometers, and then descended sharply until we reach a spot where the landscape opened up.  There, we found views of the valley along with the town of Portomarín.

Ferreiros to Mercadoiro (3.4 km)

I stopped for an orange soda and a bag of chips at Mercadoiro.  Some Gregorian chants and Loreena McKinnett-like music were playing there.  It was a beautiful setting but awfully crowded.

We passed a stone marker that showed we had 100km more to go to Santiago. Finally, around 1:00, the sun broke through and it warmed up as we made our way to Vilachá, a farming town.

There were a ton of pilgrims on the path today.  A lot of fresh faces and too many groups chatting away.  The most annoying were some Spanish high school students yapping and playing loud music.

Mercadoiro to Vilachá (3.1 km)

After that, I stopped at a little roadside shop with a lot of painted shells outside.  I bought a pair of earrings, shampoo and a Kit-Kat bar.

It was a half-hour from Vilachá to Portomarín, downhill and mostly on paved roads. To get into town, we crossed over a very high and long bridge over río Mino.  It looked like some ruins were beneath the bridge. We climbed a majestic flight of steps under an arch, into the pretty porticoed main street, rúa Xeral Franco, lined with shops and cafés and leading to the central square, Praza Conde de Fenosa, the lifeblood of the town.

Vilachá to Portomarín (2.2 km)

Portomarín once sat on both banks of the Miño River and was an important commercial and military center. During the Middle Ages, it sustained several pilgrim hospitals. The town withered in the 19th century with the rapid growth of nearby Lugo.  When the Embalse de Belesar Dam was built in 1956 to provide hydroelectricity for the region, major monuments in the town were removed and relocated to the west side of Miño gorge. The move was complete by 1962.

My arrival in Portomarín was at 4:30 – so late! I checked into Aqua Portomarín.  I had reserved a bed in the albergue, but I asked if they happened to have a private room.  They did!

After showering and doing laundry, I met Darina at an Italian restaurant at 6:00. I enjoyed tortellini with spinach and cottage cheese, accompanied, as always, by wine.

While at dinner, Ricardo, who was rakishly handsome for a man of 69, with dyed black hair, gave everyone who would listen his advice about the Camino. He said he was born in Spain and lived in his grandmother’s house right beside Santiago Cathedral until he was four years old. He said the pilgrim mass is a big production with the butafumiero and is at 11:00 a.m. every day (It’s actually at noon, and they don’t swing the butafumiero at every pilgrim mass unless someone pays for it). He said he biked the Camino because walking it wasn’t good for your body.  He complained that everyone wears bad shoes and their feet turn in or turn out.  He said it was good for my body that I sent my pack ahead each day.  He was so full of advice!  And so knowledgeable since he lived in his grandmother’s house in Santiago up until he was 4 years old, some 65 years ago!

After dinner, Darina and I went to the pilgrim mass at 7:00 at the austere Romanesque church of Igrexa de San Juan / San Xoán (also Saint Nicholas).  This temple, known in the past as San Xoán Hospitalarios church, was moved when the Belesar reservoir was built and the old village was flooded. It is one of the most extraordinary Romanesque monuments on the Camino de Santiago.

The temple, founded in the 12th century by the Military Order of Santiago’s knights (Cabaleiros de Santiago), is crowned with four defensive towers and crenelated battlements, making it resemble a castle. A scene of the Annunciation is represented on the north side entrance tympanum, and the south wall entrance is richly ornamented.  The church has a single barrel vaulted nave and semicircular apse and prominent rose window.

It was a lovely mass and some of the school kids we’d seen earlier on the way (those I’d been annoyed by), sang several songs during the service and also did some of the readings. Their presence brought the service to life.  There were five priests in attendance, and I took Communion.  I felt bad that I’d been so annoyed by the students earlier.

On the tympanum of the south door are two figures, one carrying a book and one a crozier, flanking San Nicolás.

After dinner, I ran into Janice from San Antonio and the three New Zealanders (mother & two daughters), and Ellen from Germany who informed me she was feeling better after having been sick several days.  Darina and I wandered around the town, doing some window shopping and exploring the few shops that were still open.

As of this day, I had five more days to walk – 94.7 km (58.8 miles) – to Santiago.

Ruminations {week six}

The walk: During my sixth week, I continued to descend from the highest elevation on the Camino at Cruz de Ferro into the El Bierzo region, a transition area between Castille and the green-forested Galicia. There were plenty of steep and gravelly climbs and descents for the next seven days, during which time I crossed into Galicia. The architecture was changing, with slate buildings replacing tile, and wooden overhanging balconies reflecting the timber-producing landscape. We passed through many forests: birch, oak, and sweet European Chestnut with spiky yellow balls.

I passed through a series of tiny towns I called “cow towns,” where small herds of cattle grazed in pastures.  Small hamlets consisted of loose assemblages of rambling houses, often cobbled together with tractor sheds, henhouses or barns, and storage rooms. Next to every house was a garden of greens.  The smell of dirt, cow dung, loamy grains, and chickens permeated the air.  Many houses had hórreos, or raised granaries, nearby. I was told many of them have ancient fertility symbols on top.

I explored the magnificent 12th century Templar Castle in Ponferrada, the capital of El Bierzo, where I found beautiful illustrated replicas of Templar and other religious texts and a fabulous exhibit about the Middle Ages.  When leaving Ponferrada, I got lost, which was disheartening. I kept thinking about my problems, so obviously I hadn’t left them behind at Cruz de Ferro. I walked through suburban landscapes with minimal charm. With 10 days left to walk, I felt deflated, exhausted and close to quitting. I guessed this was life in microcosm: sometimes you don’t feel like going on but then you must, so you do.  Of course I could have quit, but wouldn’t that have been foolish after making it so far?

One saving grace was a beautiful little church in Fuentes Nueva, La Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Asuncion.  There, I stopped to offer prayers and was bowled over by how pretty it was inside.

All over the Bierzo countryside were buzzing electric wires, as if some strange spirit was speaking from above. I was in a Zen frame of mind and kept putting one foot in front of the other.  The El Bierzo landscape was stunning, even in the rain, with its rolling hills covered in vineyards and white-washed houses surrounded by loblolly pines.

My friend Darina, who kept steadily one town ahead of me, recommended I take the alternative route out of Villafranca del Bierzo.  I lingered in town to charge my phone and see if the rain would let up. It did, so I climbed steeply up the scenic route, Camino de Pradela to Vista.  The whole alternate path turned out to be along the top of a mountain, and then, after a near eternity, a steep descent.

The views were stunning and it was exhilarating walking on a mountain path rather than the roadside route, which I could see below in the valley.  For 10 km, I didn’t see a soul in front of or behind me. A couple of times I worried I might be lost, but then magically the yellow Camino arrows appeared, easing my mind.

Soon, in every village, cows greeted us with a boisterous cacophony of mooing, lowing, and bell-ringing. We crossed officially into Galicia, leaving behind the autonomous region of Castilla y León. We walked through gorse and scrubland along a stone wall, with stunning and sweeping views of the mountains. Galicia is reminiscent of Celtic lands, with its lush pastures grazed by cattle, with sheep, pigs, geese and chickens foraging among them. It is known for rainshowers (chubascos), thunderstorms (tormentas) and thick mountain fog (niebla) due to its mountains being the first thing in 5,000 km that the Atlantic’s westerly winds hit.

We climbed steadily to O’Cebreiro, which sat at the top of a mountain where the wind howled and where I could see two valleys, the one I left behind and the one into which I would descend. The views were magnificent. The town was full of traditional mountain dwellings of pre-Roman origin called pallozas, built in circular or oval shapes, with granite or slate walls and thatched roofs.

Leaving O’Cebreiro, I walked under a painterly sunrise of rich corals; the whole sky was a rosy unfurling.  I was overwhelmed by the dramatic beauty along the ridge top, through a path bordered by Scotch broom and wild absinthe. Green pastures and small villages dotted the valley below.  I descended slowly through the “cow towns,” with lackadaisical cows grazing and mooing amidst heaps of cow pies.

I encountered days that were alternately foggy, damp, drizzling, and outright raining. Through it all, it was cold. We were greeted by roosters cockadoodling and chickens clucking and pecking. The path often ran through deep, leafy chestnut forests and gullies with babbling streams. The constant fog, rain and mist carried intimations of sprites and witches, in which Galicians are said to believe.

I reached Sarria, a bustling modern town with a population of 13,500; the town has become a major starting point for pilgrims with limited time but who are anxious to get the pilgrim compostela. Starting in Sarria just covers the required 100km to the cathedral in Santiago. In Sarria, I expected to find the town bustling with new pilgrims, but at least in my walkabouts, it seemed like a ghost town; the melancholy pilgrim mural on the Igrexa de Santa Mariña wall magnified the town’s gloomy aura.

In Mercadoiro, I found Gregorian chants and beautiful music that hinted of Loreena McKinnett in a cafe.  After Sarria, the numbers of pilgrims on the path increased, stealing the quiet I’d enjoyed for so many days.  There were lot of fresh faces and too many groups chatting away.  The most annoying were some Spanish high school students yapping and playing loud music.

On that same night that I encountered the annoying Spanish students, I attended a mass in Portomarín with Darina. It was a lovely mass in which those same Spanish school kids sang songs and did some of the readings. Their presence brought the service to life.  There were five priests in attendance, and I took Communion.

Eating, drinking and shopping:  At a café in Ponferrada, I had lemon beer and mushrooms sauteed in garlic with bread to dip.  For dinner that same night, at La Taberna de Ra, I enjoyed grilled asparagus and Brie, which was delicious, along with some wine. Then I went to the same restaurant I’d been to earlier for avocado, tomato and smoked salmon tapenade, along with another glass of wine.  Nearby, I happened upon a souvenir shop, La Cueva de la Mora, where I bought three scarves. 🙂

When I went to dinner at a restaurant Darina had recommended in Trabadelo, Gastropub – El Puente Peregrino, I ran into Greg and Sean, who were staying in rooms at the restaurant.  I enjoyed vegetable curry with rice and goat cheese yogurt with honey and walnuts and we talked about the Camino.

In Vega del Valcarce, where I bought a rosary from Silvio’s Casa del Rosario.  He told me it was amethyst. I cut my finger and he taped it for me and wished me a Buen Camino.

In Ruitelán, a quaint hamlet where San Froilán had a hermitage, I took Darina’s advice and stopped at the first café for lentil soup with vegetables for an early lunch. I was surprised when they brought me an entire pot of soup, and I tried to eat as much as I could!

At one pilgrim meal, I had scrambled eggs with mushrooms and shrimp, green beans, mashed potatoes and chocolate flan. Of course, red wine accompanied the meal.

I enjoyed many a steaming bowl of traditional Galican soup, caldo gallego, with kale and potatoes, red wine, and crusty bread.

In Furela, I ate a cheese omelette (French-style) in an unheated open air garage.  It was utterly bone-chilling and miserable.  The cafe was the only place in town and was overflowing.

In Sarria, I had dinner with my friend Darina, having toast with goat cheese and sun-dried tomatoes, a caprese salad, and a vegetarian burger, which we split.  At an Italian restaurant in Portomarín, Darina and I enjoyed tortellini with spinach and cottage cheese, accompanied, as always, by wine.

People I met: On this section of the Camino, I met Greg and Sean, high school math teachers from British Columbia, Canada.  Later, I met Beth from Canberra.  She was the same Beth that Greg from British Columbia had told me he’d “really connected with.” Beth had interests of her own; she was to meet a British guy named Pat in Sarria.  She had met him earlier in the Camino and he’d had to leave for a portion of the Camino.  They planned to walk to Santiago together from Sarria and then travel to Portugal together.  She started her Camino on the same date as me, September 4.

Many times I encountered Daniella from Bulgaria, who lost her 5-year-old son to cerebral palsy, and her partner Sean from England.  They both lived at that time in Cyprus. Daniella always seemed full of energy, with her black and white striped shirts with patterns on the front and plastic flowers in her hair.

At Biduedo, I met Susan from Littleton, Colorado and Mike from Prince Edward Island, Canada.  Susan was a nurse practitioner and had never been married.  This was her third, and final, section of the Camino; she did the first two stages in 2016 and 2017.  She and Mike were having beers together.

I also met Janice from San Antonio, who worked in law enforcement and homeland security. She lost her husband six years ago; he had died in his sleep, unexpectedly. She was still grieving over him. After the pilgrim mass in Triacastela, Janice put a locket on a figure of Christ and took a picture.  The locket held some ashes from her best friend’s only daughter who was killed in a car accident at age 24.

In Furela, I chatted with Fatima from Switzerland, who only spoke French.  She and I had been passing each other for many days, but since we couldn’t speak a common language, we always said “Hola!” to each other.  Each time one of us bypassed the other, Fatima said, “Hasta luego!”  Seeing each other again and again came to be expected and cherished.  She had been walking since August 3 from Mont St. Michel to Bordeaux, where she took a train to St. Jean Pied-de-Port. She had been walking from there.

On the rainy walk into Sarria, I met Laurel from Boise, Idaho. She had recently quit her job as a social worker dealing with disabled people and was trying to figure out what to do next.

My friend Darina happened to make it to Sarria, as she had taken the detour route to Monasterio de Samos and had spent the night there. She had been walking steadily one town or so ahead of me since we’d last met, so I was happy to have our paths converge again.  While at dinner, we met three New Zealanders who were starting their Camino the next day.  Stella, the mother, was walking with her two daughters Emma and Laura.  They were all super friendly.

While at dinner in Portomarín, Ricardo, a rakishly handsome Spaniard of 69, was chock full of advice about the Camino,  And so knowledgeable since he lived in his grandmother’s house in Santiago up until he was 4 years old!

I continued to run into Sheryl from Seattle, and the husband and wife she was traveling with, Sharon and John.

What I loved: Several times, I was put in a room with four or five beds but no other roommates. These were some of the most surprising and welcome treats.  I loved meeting up with Darina again periodically.  I also loved taking the alternate route out of Villafranca del Bierzo over the mountains, with no one in sight for miles.

What I hated:  The municipal albergue in O’Cebreiro, Xunta, with its 104 beds, was disheartening: cold showers, an unwelcoming receptionist, people herded about like animals, beds crammed together.  It was the worst of the worst, as far as albergues.  I decided then and there, I would avoid any more municipals if I could help it.

On the home front. In Cacabelos, I was surprised by a call from my loved one.  It was a day when I had been thinking so much about him. He told me he loved living with his older brother, loved the house and yard, liked his job and the people, except for the time had to give up to be there, and how he was sorry (for what, he didn’t say).  He told me he loved me.  He wanted to take off four days to drive home from Colorado, so he could pick up a lot of his stuff like his pressure cooker, etc.  He wished me a good walk.  It was a very nice talk, and quite coincidental – just what I needed to cheer up.

My daughter wrote me a nice note of encouragement on Instagram: “I’m sorry you had a rough day Ma.  You’re doing great and I’m so proud of you.  Keep it up <3.”

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*Day 42: Monday, October 15, 2018*

*38,879 steps, or 16.48 miles: Sarria to Portomarín (22.7 km)*

You can find everything I’ve written so far on the Camino de Santiago here:

• Camino de Santiago 2018

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On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Sáo Brás de Alportel, Then and Now.