Before I get to today, I should finish yesterday…
We had a delightful communal dinner where everyone spoke Spanish, but me. No problem. Means you don’t need to talk to strangers. A smile at the same time everyone laughs and a few raised eyebrows here and there (when I actually recognized a word) can give the impression of vague comprehension. Bullshit baffles brains.
What I learned at dinner is that traditional Paella is a Valencia dish. Valencian Paella ONLY contains chicken or rabbit. And they take their dish very seriously indeed; a matter of regional honour that has been debased by inferior alternatives.
“Joo heave not taysteed pie-yay-jah onteel joo been to Valenthia”.
To say they were disparaging about anything with seafood would be an understatement. I nodded in vigorous, indifferent agreement. Whatever…
Back to today.
I left the “Batcave” in the dark sometime after 0600. I say Batcave because O Abrigadoiro had one window and a ventilation vent in the dormitory. The window was no more that 60cm x 30cm. All other lighting was via skylight. Intimate feel. Superb.
No fog today.
Much the same as yesterday, there is a lot of woodlands and a lot of Eucalyptus trees in this area. In the early hours, their scent is intensified by the stillness of the morning air, and imparts a spa-like cleanliness it. You can almost feel it in your eyes.
My journey through 8 small towns was unremarkable, although the day overall has a very strange vibe to it. Today is Tuesday, but it feels like a Sunday in terms of energy and overall activity. Very strange.
I made good time in the dark and rested up in Melide, where the Camino Frances joins with Camino Primitivo coming from the north. Nothing was open by 0830 and there were an unusually high number of vacant, bleary-eyed, 18-25 year olds roaming the streets in last night’s clubbing-attire. Some still carrying glasses of beer. Weird, on a Tuesday… I found breakfast eventually, but it took an extensive 15 minute recce of the area to locate a small, lone panaderia staffed by a single, surly matron sporting a shock of dark, armpit hair that was looking to infiltrate her outer garments.
One matron.
Three customers (me the third).
Simple orders.
Again, I endured the profound inability of a Spanish worker to multi-task e.g. put the coffee on so it can do its automatic thing while the orange juice machine does its automatic thing while the toaster does its automatic thing. I remain aghast. It took me 15 minutes to get a coffee – and I am NOT exaggerating for effect. All the while, in that time, she made a couple of coffees (including a steamed milk!), one orange juice and two servings of toast (complicated by butter and jam accompaniment). I counted. In London or NYC, you’d have had an aneurism if you suffered this quality of slow, indifferent, oblivious customer-disservice. She was, seemingly, the only game in town, and I was, of course, obsequiously humble and patient… And that is why I am delighting in corn-holing her now, in my mother tongue, in absentia!
I decided to berth in Arzua because tomorrow, it gives me a nice easy stretch in to San Paio, my penultimate stop before Santiago. Arzua has that same Sunday feeling as Melide, minus the youth-drunks. It just feels dead. Does no one work here? Annoyingly, there’s only tourist food though I found a local pulperia, O’Conxuro, on a side-street and had some quite delicious octopus – once again. I’ll need to get my bloods done when I get back, though. With the amount of seafood and carbs I’ve consumed, I’m growing seriously concerned about mercury poisoning and artery-hardening – and I still don’t have a will.
This town, sadly, is boring. I targeted Albergue da Fonte for my overnight because the photo made it look old and inviting, it has only 20 beds and is on the outward side of the Camino. Alas, it’s a bit disappointing, especially compared to yesterday’s find. Oh well. It’s clean, I was able to shower lazily, do my laundry and the doors shut at 2000, a bonus. I’m in a room of six: two Italians and one Japanese lady, so far. The Italians are middle-aged and quite a sweet (straight) couple. They started in Léon. They are carrying their own packs. They do their own laundry (I say as witness). They are determined to stay in un-booked, authentic pilgrim accommodation. They were suitably complimentary when I told them I started in St Jean Pied de Port. They get a silver star and their lives will be spared come the Revolution…
I think I have covered about 725km+/- so far. There’s another 50km to Santiago, then about 90km to Finisterre. Thereafter another 25-30km to Muxia. Thereafter….bus to the airport and Grasse via Barcelona then Nice. Santiago Thursday. Finisterre Sunday. Muxia next Tuesday. Nice next Saturday. All being well.
That’s it. It’s 1500 and the weather is turning a tad chilly so I’m adding a shirt (don’t recall when I last did that). I’m off to find an ATM and stock up on this funny-money that they use here. It currently still has some value, but I’m not sure for how long…
Oh… It’s now 1735 and I just found out that today is a Bank Holiday – the Feast of the Assumption of Mary. Explains the lack of anything much happening anywhere today.