Tag Archives: Spain

Oct. 3 – 7: Villamartin Grande to Vilalba

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Oct. 3: Villamartin Grande – 15 miles
There’s lots of conversation this morning between us, a man from Minnesota and a family from Alaska and Seattle. We’re back and forth between dirt and pavement. Once we all separate to walk at our own pace, the absolute quiet is startling, but wonderful.

Walking through the province of Asturias, their was a ruggedness to the landscape. Now in Galicia, the farmlands take on the look of a patchwork quilt. The different colors of green highlight the plow lines creating a unique design on each plot of land, some so vertical it makes you wonder how any machinery can navigate it.

You can hear a pin drop in the tiny village of Villamartin Grande. As we approach what we think is the albergue we have reserved, a sign says “Cerrado” (closed). For a moment, we are standing in shock alongside some French pilgrims, who also have a reservation, until we realize the sign is on the cafe, closed today for an emergency.

We are welcomed into Tentempé Peregrino and get settled. It’s plain and clean and we are glad they are offering a pilgrim meal, since there seems to be no other dining options available. A pilgrim’s meal is a gathering of pilgrims who come together over a meal. Sometimes it is prepared for you and sometimes you assist in its preparation.

Seven of us dine together (us along with another couple from Texas and three pilgrims from France). We all speak just enough of another language to be able to communicate. We talk and laugh while enjoying the the wine, the homemade meal and the camaraderie. Hard to believe two and a half hours ago, we were total strangers.


Oct. 4: Mondoñedo – 14 miles
A rooster’s crow disturbs the morning silence. We walk with the Texas couple and stop to admire the spider webs in various designs that adorn the fences. Fog and mist have crept in and surrounded the area, giving the landscape that mystical feel Galicia is known for.

We’re treated to a little bit of every surface today: pavement through towns and dirt paths in forests, with several steep ups and downs. Every day, townspeople walking greet us and point the way, cars beep their horns and wave. Mondoñedo is such an old town that the cars actually seem out of place. The Hotel Montero is both an albergue and a hotel. It’s plain, but clean and on the Camino route.

This trip, I was glad I asked both a yoga and fitness instructor for a suggested stretching workout. We’ve done it religiously every day and it’s seems to have made a difference. Each evening, we lie down backwards on the bed with our legs straight up against the headboard. The reverse blood flow works wonders. Sometimes our feet throb so much, they feel as if they have a heartbeat of their own.

Oct. 5: Abadin – 10 miles
The morning starts with a dilemma: should we take the shorter, but steeper mountain route and save three miles? Both routes have no services, but we are carrying enough water, some apples and in case of emergency, we can always break out our cocktail nuts. We opt for the mountain route. We’re above tree line and it’s cool, windy and quiet, but not as steep as we expected.

We’re told there is no reason for a map in this small, old town, so we are greatly impressed by Albergue Xabarin. Very contemporary in a gray and white color scheme, there’s great attention to detail. Colorful modern art by Spanish painter Pedro Campos Diaz graces the walls and it’s hard to believe they are actually paintings, not photographs. It’s a treat to prepare our own complimentary breakfast in the amazing stainless steel kitchen.

Oct. 6 – 7: Vilalba – 14 miles
Every morning when the alarm goes off, I give the weather report from bed. While it’s a good way to start the day, it may also be an excuse to stay under the covers just a bit longer. I’m sure if I start announcing the barometric pressure and due point I’ll be found out.

It’s drizzling, misting and cloudy, but at least the terrain is flat. With the sound of cow bells in the distance, we are navigating what looks like lime green Nerf Balls all over the ground, but in reality are chestnuts. Everywhere we go, we see townspeople crushing the Nerf layer with their foot, then collecting buckets of the chestnuts that are inside. We’ve come this far to not trip over a chestnut!

The sound of cow bells start to get closer and closer, until we find ourselves pushed off the road, which becomes a cow crossing.

Today, Michael and I met 42 years ago, so we decide to celebrate and stay at the Parador de Vilalba. It’s a small, quiet town and the perfect place to relax and enjoy a romantic dinner and reminisce. Located in the city’s old quarter, the hotel was designed around the tower that dates back to medieval times. From the hotel, a glass enclosed walkway leads to the tower and its exquisite Great Room.

Sept. 28 – Oct 2: Navia to Ribadeo

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Sept. 28: Navia – 14 miles
I’m so busy chatting with a pilgrim from Michigan, all I know is that the terrain is flat. The young woman from Taiwan we greet each day is suffering from blisters. We give her some of the extra bandages Michael received at the clinic. I tell her (as best I can) that my name for her is “Fuerte” (strong); she’s traveled here alone, speaks no Spanish and very little English. 

One minute I’m considering taking off my jacket and infatuated with the group of trees that look like the talking trees from “The Wizard of Oz.” The next minute the wind picks up and it’s raining hard. My pants are drenched and stuck to me, but my feet are dry inside my shoes, I’m dry inside my coat and I’m inside myself, thinking and plodding along.

Casona Naviega is a renovated stately mansion in the English country style. I walk around the common areas, marveling at the furnishings and, when no one is looking, I gracefully glide down the staircase pretending to be welcoming my party guests. 

Casa Xusto sitting room

Sept. 29: La Caridad – 8 miles
After a lovely breakfast, with Spanish guitar music playing softly in the background, and a conversation with a woman from S. Africa who’s on the Camino, it’s not easy to open the door and head back out into the rain. Luckily, we’ve planned a short day.

Even though our pants are drenched again, this time our shoes are soaked, but we’re chatting away. We try taking turns singing Broadway show tunes, but quickly realize we only know the first line and the chorus of each song.

We arrive at Hotel Rural Casa Xusto early and are warmly greeted by Pepe, who takes such good care of us. He reminds us there will be a festival in town starting today and suggests making us a dinner reservation. For a fair price he will wash our wet/dirty clothes and deliver them in the evening. Then, while we’re waiting for our room to be ready, he brings us a beer and some jamón.

Jamón is a staple of Spanish cuisine. It’s similar to Italian prosciutto, but with a more intense flavor. The pork hind leg of the Spanish pig is dry cured in salt. Serrano is the more typical type. Ibérico, from black pigs, is the most expensive meat in the world, with a leg costing in the range of $4500. A sign of status is to impress your guests with your jamón displayed on a stand, ready for slicing.

Originally a 200 year old barn with a residence above, the usual stone, wooden beams and antique furnishings take on an enchanting, almost magical feel here. There’s a beautiful sitting area outside our room that we have all to ourselves. We fall asleep to the sounds of music, singing and fireworks. 

Sept. 30. – Oct. 2: Ribadeo- 16 miles
Today is our last day walking in the province of Asturias. 

We delay putting our wet shoes on as long as we can. Michael has a good laugh and wants no part of my invention. I take the small plastic bags that the bathroom glasses are wrapped in, put them over my socks and my feet stay dry all day.

The path today is fairly flat on rural farm roads. When our guidebook says that the route splits after the white house with the palm tree, we wonder- what happens if they decide to repaint the house?! 

We stop to view the ocean and continue along on a boardwalk. Then, we come to a pedestrian bridge, the likes of which we’ve never seen before. On one side is a high fence and the expressway and on the other side is a lower fence and the Calabrian Sea below. The bridge is just over a half mile long, but seems to go on forever and, with every truck passing in the right lane, we feel it reverberate. With heads down, we have no choice but to keep moving.

All along, we’ve been reserving rooms weeks ahead with no problems. After researching for hours at a time, we finally realize there’s absolutely no place to stay at our next stop until Monday, Oct. 3!  “Es lo que es!” (It is what it is!). “Monta las olas!” ( Ride the wave!) Ribadeo is our first town in the province of Galicia and the last town on the coast before we head inland; the perfect place to stop for an extra night! 

We explore the churches, historic buildings and neighborhoods in this seaside tourist town. Our hotel, La Casona de Lazúrtegui, is a casona-light; “casona” is mansion in Spanish. The rooms are plain, but the building has character and the lovely salon becomes our personal living room. 

As it turns out, this hotel is not available on Oct. 2, so we’re “forced” to stay at Parador de Ribadeo Lugo. Paradors are managed by a state-run company and located in historic Spanish buildings such as fortresses, monasteries, castles or prestigious homes. This historic home sits at the mouth of the Eo River and we spend the day here relaxing, inside and out, enjoying cocktails and dinner while taking in the views.

Sept. 24 – 27: Muros de Nalón to Luarca

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Sept. 24: Muros de Nalón – 16 miles
We breakfast with a couple from England and a man from Poland who left his front door in May and has been walking ever since! It’s a pleasant walk through villages and dirt trails in the forest…until the rain starts.

We find ourselves sloshing through mud and over rocks and gnarled tree roots.  Navigating puddles and trenches takes total concentration and we are laser focused for what seems like hours. I’m not sure what’s more slippery; the ascents or the descents. The rain seems to be enjoying the game it’s playing with us. Every time we get too warm and take off our rain jackets, it starts up again.

We welcome the drizzle and the change from muddy forest to road. We chat with a woman from the Netherlands who regales us with stories about each of her Camino adventures over the last ten years. It’s a League of Nations, as we stand at a crossroads with pilgrims from all different countries trying to ascertain the correct route. The yellow arrows and the shells posted along the way are our guides. At the start, the base of the shell pointed the correct way, but now they are displayed both ways!

Casa Carmina has not opened for the day yet, so we wait on a bench across the street with some other pilgrims. The mother/daughter owners are a well-oiled machine, welcoming us early out of the drizzle and getting us settled. Rather than a room of bunk beds, we opt for a private room at this albergue. The weather clears and we enjoy some wine, sitting outside on their lovely grounds. We chat with a young woman from the Netherlands, who started cycling from the northern most part of her country and plans to end up at the southern most point of Portugal. And to make it even more of an experience, she’s camping along the way!

Sept. 25: Soto de Lunas – 14 miles
Another difficult day awaits us! It’s a repeat of yesterday and we’re fixated on every muddy step, with steep ups and downs. In between, we are treated to peeks of the ocean and walks through small towns.

There’s a convivial gathering in the crowded bar and dining room as we enter Hotel Valle de Luiñas. We are welcomed warmly at this lovely rural inn and told our bags have not arrived yet. We had planned to enjoy Sunday dinner here, so we wash our faces and hands and quickly sit down. With our muddy pants and boots hidden under the white tablecloth, we decide we don’t look too bad from the waist up.

The first one in the shower each day is responsible for giving the shower report. Is it slippery? Which are the hot/cold faucets? Sometimes they are opposite.  Does it leak? I purposely let Michael go first today.

Sept. 26: Cadavedo – 16 miles
The good news: the hotel is right on the Camino path. The bad news: our guidebook rated yesterday a two in difficulty and rates today a three! Right away, we come to a long tunnel which is so dark, we can’t see a thing. By the light of our phones we walk cautiously, trying to ascertain the terrain.

By days end, we will have tackled five water crossings, each with its own unique characteristics. Whether we’re balancing from rock to slick rock, deciding the sturdiest place to step on a tree root or wondering if it’s best to go straight through or around the perimeter, we can count on our our hiking poles to get us to the other side. The narrow path that follows takes us up a steep incline, but the view of the ocean at the top makes it all worthwhile.

We’re so happy to have arrived that we don’t mind climbing the grand staircase at Hotel Rural Casa Roja, a charming renovated country home. We never tire of the stone walls and beamed ceilings that these places all have in common. It’s not much of a town, but with lovely sitting areas, inside and out, we make sure to take advantage of both. But, not before buying a bottle of wine at the market conveniently located across the street.

Sept. 27: Luarca – 11 miles
We begin with jackets on, only to take them off a few minutes later. There’s no rain in the forecast, the temperature quickly rises from the 60’s to the 70’s and it’s cloudy; perfect for walking.

The forest path is steep, but surprisingly dry. The makeshift steps, made up of twisted tree roots and rocks, force us to contemplate every step, but rather than tiring me out, it leaves me with a peaceful feeling. Walking through the small farm towns is a welcome pleasure. The old stone dwellings that look as if they’ve seen better days seem to be magically transformed into homes with just the addition of their blooming flower boxes.

Luarca is an older seaside town. What makes it unique are the white homes balancing on the cliffs that encircle the Bay of Biscay. I am fascinated to see how they are connected and still standing! The streets are so incredibly steep, I wonder how they get around on icy/snowy days. Meanwhile, two “señoras” (older women) are arm in arm, talking and laughing, as they bypass us and make their way quickly down the street!

Built in 1906, the Hotel Villa de Luarca was a residence and our room looks out to a lovely little courtyard filled with flowers. Most towns close up in the late afternoon and as soon as they reopen again for the evening, the bars, restaurants and plazas quickly all come alive. After a quick walking tour of the historic quarter after dinner, it’s time for these two peregrinos to call  it a night.

Sept. 17 – 23: Gijón to Aviles

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Sept. 17 – 22: Gijón
When we detect some swelling in his foot, we realize Michael’s blisters are still an issue. We decide to take a longer break and bus to Gijón. One of Spain’s largest cities, it’s double the size of Santander and another urban beach/lively promenade town. If you have to rest, this seems like just the place. The Hotel Hernan Cortés is a bit older, but has the lovely patina of a time gone by and is in a great location. 

Not wanting to walk too far, we notice people sitting on a stone wall with drinks, waiting for a band to begin to play. It’s a lovely spot with a view of the harbor, but we opt for a table instead. Just when I’m wondering what I can do to cheer Michael up, the band’s van pulls up right in front of us:             

We have a good laugh at the band’s name and from then on, it seems as if, once again, The Camino Provides, bringing the amusement right to us, so we don’t have to walk far. First, there’s the Asturias Cheese Festival (the province we’re in) with plenty of tastes. Then, a street demonstration of gladiator techniques performed by men in costume. Impromptu street parades and the sound of bagpipes are everywhere. Sitting on a bench and people watching on the promenade is a favorite Spanish pastime.

On Sundays, the stores are closed, but the plaza is lively, full of friends and families gathering together. It’s baptism day at the church we’re sitting outside of and we watch as families, dressed in their finest, visit and take photos of their beautiful babies. 

We walk on the beach, hoping the salt water will help heal Michael’s foot. I bury his feet in the cool sand, telling him it’s an old Spanish tradition. I can’t determine if the water’s too cold, but the waves always decide for me, knocking me over and tossing me around until I’m all salty, sandy and happy. With eyes closed, we lay on the beach breathing in the salty air. In the distance, we hear a flamenco guitarist playing alongside the sound of the crashing waves. I come up with a new mantra: “Monta las olas” (Ride the waves).

We are able to take advantage of the Menu Del Dia served from 1 – 4 p.m., rather than waiting for dinner, which doesn’t start until 8 p.m. For anywhere from €12€ – €19. it includes three courses, bread, water and a half bottle of wine, per person (usually you are charged for bread and water). My favorite is Fabada, a stew made of beans, Spanish sausage, potatoes and kale. Michael loves the Bacalao Viscaina, salted codfish stew cooked in tomatoes. While we pass so many homes with gardens each day, vegetables are rarely seen on menus, so we usually order a Salada Mixta, a big salad served with tuna. 

One of the more unique restaurants we dine in is called Toro. It’s an upscale Japanese all-you-can-eat restaurant. For €14 you can choose from 100 small plates. You  check off your choices on a form and hand it to the waiter, with one caveat: you will be charged €3f for every plate that you don’t finish! 

Michael has been wearing his boots a portion of each day and the insoles he bought have really helped. He says he’s ready to go again! On our last night, I make a toast: “Para sus ampollas!” (to your blisters!). If it wasn’t for them, we wouldn’t have gotten to know beautiful Gijón. 

Sept. 23: Aviles – 18 miles
The long walk out of Gijón reminds me what a large city it really is. The route through an industrial area is is anything but scenic. The sounds of the pebbles crunching under our shoes and the cars on the nearby expressway have a certain rhythm that becomes the background to my thoughts.

The dilapidated stone buildings on the farm road we’re walking on don’t look inhabited, until I notice their TV antennas and electricity connections. In the middle of nowhere, we come upon a basket of broken tiles and markers The mountain of tiles has been created by Pilgrims, who have left a tribute to someone they are thinking of/praying for; very touching. 

Luckily, there’s a wide shoulder on the road we’re walking on and it finally leads us into town. It’s is so old and unattractive, until we turn the corner. The plaza is a registered historic district and the best preserved in the region. It looks like a movie set! 

The Hotel 40 Nudos is older and quite plain, with very clean rooms. It becomes one of our favorites when they serve us complimentary tapas with our wine- a treat for hungry pilgrims counting the minutes until 8 p.m. 

We dine at a pulperia and choose to have our octopus grilled, rather than boiled- it’s delicious! In the province of Galicia, the octopus is revered. Everything stops in order to celebrate everything octopus at their annual Pulperia Festival. We order a “jarra” (pitcher) of Galician wine served from a tap and realize we better forgo our usual toast and use two hands to pick up our bowls/glasses.

Madrid, Spain: Oct. 23 – 26, 2018

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Photo Madrid

The Royal Palace

Traveling with Mr. Wiz* is amazing. The last time we were in Madrid was eight years ago and yet he remembers every place we’ve been and how to get there as if it were yesterday. That said, we quickly plan our itinerary and set out, not wanting to waste a minute.

The bad news: The Royal Palace is not open to the public on its free day. The good news: there is a meeting with the German delegation and we are front and center to experience all the pomp and circumstance that is involved with a state visit: the changing of the guards, parade and musicians. Built in the 1700s, we marvel at the size of the structure (the largest building in Spain), which at one time housed the 3000 courtiers of King Felipe VXIII.

Retiro Park is just as we remembered it. One of the largest parks in Spain and a part of the Spanish monarchy until the late 19thcentury, it still seems to have a regal air about it, as its paths wind past sculptures, monuments, a serene lake and beautiful gardens.

We make sure we line up early for the free evening admission to the Prado National Museum. Being serenaded by Spanish guitar music from a local musician helps the time go by quickly. We spend the entire two hours admiring the detail within each painting and fascinated by the stories behind the people depicted.

History records show that tapas became popular in the Middle Ages in taverns that the lower classes frequented. The wine was served in jugs covered with a slice of bread to avoid spills. The word “tapas” evolved from the Spanish verb “tocar” (to cover) and tapas soon came to be known as the little morsels of food that are traditionally served with a drink.

The Mercado de San Miquel Public Market is now serving tapas, but when we arrive it is so crowded. The food at each stall looks amazing, but there is nowhere to sit and hardly anywhere to stand. We are afraid that we might accidently bite into someone’s tapas at this wall to wall giant cocktail party, so we opt to keep going.

Our exploring takes us to Terraza Cibeles, a lovely rooftop bar. The architectural elements of the neighboring buildings, the city views and the European techno music playing in the background makes us feel so hip. We pass on tapas after all and decide that we are still full from the delicious bocadillo (sandwich) we had for lunch at Bodega Vianda. With a seat on the second floor overlooking the city, we dined on jamón (cured ham produced in Spain and Portugal made from black Iberian pigs that is similar to prosciutto in look, but much tastier), sheep cheese and crusty bread; so simple, yet so delicious.

The Petit Palace Opera turned out to be a good choice. It’s a boutique hotel housed in a historic building, located near the main plazas, Puerta del Sol and Plaza Mayor (Madrid’s grandest plaza) and is within walking distance to most sights. Our Juliet balcony looks out over the pedestrian street, which is never without the throngs of people swarming in and out of the many stores and restaurants or watching one of the musicians, dancers or magicians performing.

I wish Mr. Wiz a Feliz Cumpleaños (Happy Birthday) and regale him with a poem that I have written in his honor:

It’s great being a 65’er
With all its wonderful perks

Senior discounts galore wherever you go
And cheaper health care that actually works

So, be adventurous, be happy and enjoy this wonderful stage
And most of all remember, to never act your age!

I surprise him with a lunch reservation at La Botin. According to “The Guinness Book of World Records,” it is the oldest continuously operating restaurant in the world (dating back to 1725) and is renowned for its roast sucking pig and lamb cooked over vine shoots in the huge charcoal oven that’s been there since opening day. My Spanish is better than I thought; the maître d’ honors my request to sit at Ernest Hemingway’s favorite table and even brings us a complimentary dessert. We dine slowly and savor each bite.

There are many flamenco shows in Madrid, but Cardamomo is the only one that has been sanctioned by The New York Times and it’s near our hotel. Atypical of most performances, the male dancer absolutely steals the show and we find ourselves shouting “…Ole!..” along with the rest of the audience. Note to self: Why did I stop taking flamenco lessons? Maybe it’s time to go back to dressing in my flamenco outfit and practicing the steps in my closet again?

An evening walk seems in order and what better way to end a perfect day than to scout out where our next and final dinner will be tomorrow evening. Having found La Sanabresa, a family run restaurant and a favorite of the locals, we sleep like babies, with visions of all of our favorite Spanish foods on the menu dancing in our heads.

 

*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.

Salamanca, Spain: Oct. 20 – 22, 2018

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Photo Salamanca

Salamanca University

We’re headed to “The Golden City.” We still have a few more days before we meet Big A* in Madrid, so Salamanca seems like a good place to stop on the way; it’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site and it’s also a university town.

We’ve read about the fact that the sandstone used to construct the buildings is exclusive to this region and gives off a caramel/yellow tint, but to actually see the buildings glow when the sun shines on them is amazing. That coupled with its cleanliness makes this city something special.

Known as the Spanish version of Oxford, Salamanca University dates back to 1218 making it the oldest in Spain and the fourth oldest in the world. It gives the city a lively, fun and energetic spirit. We marvel at its Renaissance architecture as we search for “La Rana de la Suerte” (the good luck frog); legend has it that if a student can find the single carved frog within the many carvings on the façade, they will pass all their exams.

Of the two Cathedrals, the old Cathedral was initially built in the 12thcentury and has the distinction of being one of the oldest constructed buildings in the world. To be standing among the ornate carvings and the frescoes dating back so many thousands of years is sometimes hard to fathom.

Considered one of Spain’s most beautiful plazas, Plaza Mayor is a welcome respite from our exploring. All day long, people gather to eat, drink, people watch and listen to the musicians. The public square most probably hasn’t changed much since the 18thcentury; it is tranquil each morning and crescendos to a party atmosphere by nightfall.

The Room Mate Hotel Vega is in a great location near the Plaza Mayor and turns out to be a good choice. Not too expensive, it offers a boutique feel with its red, white and black contemporary décor.

For some reason, we are too hungry to wait until 8 p.m. for dinner and settle on enjoying “dunch” each day, my term for the meal between lunch and dinner. My favorite is the paella which combines all of my favorites: rice flavored with chicken broth and saffron, chicken, pork, shrimp, clams and scallops.

With just enough time to figure out how to get to the walkway and picturesque gardens that are majestically perched above the city, we agree that Salamanca was well worth the stop and has cut our travel time to Madrid to only two and ½ hours by bus.

 

*Who’s who? See “Cas of Characters” on the “About” page.

Post-Camino: The Next Steps

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Photo Post Camino

Wanderlust is a wonderful thing. The adventure of exploring new cultures never gets old. It takes you out of yourself, broadens your horizons and leaves you with the gift of memories that are your souvenirs to conjure up at any time.

There is something very cool about traveling with a backpack (something I thought I would never do). I felt like a nomad; out in the world, with my arms free and feeling as free as a bird.

After five weeks, I’m not tired of living out of a backpack and assorted sizes of Ziplock bags. With only a few changes of clothing, the feeling of wearing a uniform each day was liberating. The simple pleasures of a hotel room with a bathtub or locating my one pair of earrings (after a few glasses of wine and forgetting in which bag I had placed them for safe keeping the night before) would make my day.

With my daily focus on my destination, what I would eat and where I would stay, it left me time to pay attention to the details of nature around me that I might ordinarily miss. It gave me an opportunity to associate with my fellow pilgrims and really listen to what they had to say.

It is said that you should focus on “my Camino”; no two are meant to be the same. My knee injury, though not what I had planned, gave me more time alone. Whether sitting in the room or outside with my foot up, I had more occasion for introspection. I finally gave in to the frustration of the healing process and found the peace that was awaiting me each day.

Always drawn to the mystical side, I longed for a sign, a message that might sum up my journey. Leave it to me to find it written on a bathroom stall in Finisterre, Spain: “…Fill your life with experiences, not things; have stories to tell, not stuff to show…”

And with that, I wish you a buen Camino!

 

Oct. 16 – 19: Muxia and Finesterre

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Photo Muxia

Oct. 16: Muxia

We’ve come all this way, so it seems only right to continue to the very end. It’s a beautiful day and we leave on the early bus for Muxia. With a population of 5000, this sleepy seaside town, along with our hotel Habitat CM Muxia, are really nothing special, serving only as the backdrop for the stunning natural beauty of its beaches.

This is the official end of the Camino, so we head out to find the Camino marker noting 00.00 kilometers and are struck by the view before us; the waves crashing against the rocks, its sound both thunderous and serene. There is an ominous feel to this beauty; this area is part of the treacherous Costa de Morte (Coast of Death), known for its many shipwrecks.

We peek into a window of Our Lady of the Boat Church. Struck by lightning on Christmas Day 2013, only the outside has been fully restored and it lacks an interior roof. According to legend, it was on this site that the Virgin Mary met St. James and encouraged him to preach throughout Galicia. It is believed that by a miracle of God, the body of St. James was carried by boat to Muxia, then taken to Santiago.

I am drawn to the area’s spiritual and mystical side and am anxious to find the rocking stone (Pedra de Abalar). Balanced just right, it sits straight up and rocks with the wind. It is said that it has magical powers; touching it can provide spiritual and physical healing.

We find a rock to sit on and soon I am deep in thought, mesmerized by the sound of the ocean. Time seems to stand still. I think about the many pilgrims before me that have sat in this same spot and reflected on their physical, mental and mystical journey with only the screeching of the seagulls to distract them back to reality.

Oct. 17: Muxia

There’s not much to do in a beach town on a rainy day, so it’s a good time to do some writing, reading and plan our upcoming itinerary. We’ll have some time left before we are to meet Big A* in Madrid, so we grab a window seat at our hotel’s café, order some tea and get to work.

By evening, our work is completed and we toast with a glass of wine in the same window seat and decide to venture over to the harbor for dinner. Known for its fishing industry, it is said that the boats you view while you are dining have just unloaded the fish you are dining on for dinner. Once again, we choose a window seat and after much discussion with the waiter (whose dream is travel to the U.S. and drive Route 66) select just the right seafood dishes and white wine to complement them.

Photo Finisterre

Oct. 18: Finesterre

Finesterre is Latin for “end of the earth.” Back when the world was still thought of as flat, this was considered its end. Like Muxia, this town also has a population of 5000 and is also a fishing port, but there is something so much more charming and robust about this city. It has a thriving city center and streets that meander up and down, along the ocean. The Hotel Langosteira has a great vibe. Its whimsical décor features colors of the sea; mosaic tiles in the shape of fish design the walls and even the key chains are wooden fish. Our porch has a view of the ocean and we already plan to make sure we’re up early to see the sun rise.

We get our bearings by walking from one side of the town to the other, scoping out places for dinner by the water.

Oct. 19

We head to the lighthouse, the area’s beacon since 1853, and pause at the bronze boot statue. Perched on a rock, it’s a symbol to all pilgrims of the end of the journey. Signs request that pilgrims no longer practice the ancient ritual of burning an article of clothing here as a symbol of new beginnings, but up ahead we notice a tight group of people standing in circle holding hands and smoke billowing out from the center.

I wish we would have known about the O Semaforo Hotel balanced on the cliffs, but we settle for a beer on their patio overlooking the ocean. While we are initially surprised at the number of tour buses and pilgrims here, as we climb up to the boulders that surround the ocean, there is unexpected silence. Unlike the rough seas of Muxia, here the ocean is tranquil, lapping at the sun dappled rocks, lulling you into awe and leaving you speechless.

I situate myself on a flat rock and sit cross legged with my eyes closed and my hands in prayer at my heart. Out of nowhere, I hear the sound of a flute; a young man has chosen this spot to play for tips. His melody is harmonizing with the sound of the waves and I experience such peace. For a moment, I feel as if I am outside my body and wonder if this is what practicing meditation correctly feels like. The word “peace” keeps coming to mind and I tell myself that I don’t want to forget this feeling when I go back to my busy life. Eyes now open, I feel energized, yet so serene.

We walk back through town and head to the beach. We’ve read of a famous restaurant right on the beach and decide to splurge on a late lunch at Tira do Cordel, enjoying the razor clams and grilled fish. Afterward, we walk the length of the beach, searching for shells and dipping our feet in the water.

It’s been a long day. As we head back to our hotel, I notice two older pilgrims walking toward us. The one that looks like Santa Claus (except that he’s wearing sandals and shorts) stops in front of me and hands me something. I hesitate and shake my head no, but he insists and says “…Yes, for you…” He walks on and I look down to see what he has given me. It is a card with a hand drawn picture of a dove in royal blue paint. Across the bottom are the words “…Peace, Paz…”

 

 

*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.

Oct. 13 – 15: O Pedrouzo to Santiago de Compostela

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Photo Santiago

We made it to Santiago!

Oct. 13: O Pedrouzo to Santiago- 13 miles, 5 1/2 hours

As we make our way to Santiago, the wonderful scent of the eucalyptus forest and the old, gnarled trees, that resemble the talking trees in the “Wizard of Oz,” distract us from the fact that the inclines and descents today are quite steep.

A city sign announces that we’ve made it to Santiago and we’re getting excited, even though we still have a 45 minute walk on asphalt to the historic city center. One minute we are walking through a dark tunnel serenaded by a bagpiper and the next minute, we exit into the light of day with the Cathedral welcoming us in all its glory. We hug hard and long in the Praza do Obradoiro (the golden square), amongst the other pilgrims who are laughing, crying and/or laying on the ground and looking up at the cathedral. It’s a very emotional moment; we are glad to have arrived, but sorry to see it end.

Santiago is the capital of Galicia and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. And if welcoming pilgrims and tourists isn’t enough excitement for one city, there is also a festival being celebrated. Tents selling grilled meats, artisan bread and foods share space with clothing and jewelry. The streets are filled with jubilant crowds and bagpipe music fills the air. Baby grand pianos have been placed all over town with an invitation to sit down and play.

The Hostal Aires Nunes is just two blocks from the Cathedral on a quiet back street. Our room is decorated in the Spanish version of country French: stone archways, wooden beams on the ceiling, iron chandeliers and a lovely glassed-in sun porch outfitted with two chairs and a table.

What a nice surprise to run into the pilgrim couple from Tacoma, Washington that we met last night when eating pizza. We enjoy another dinner together and plan to meet again tomorrow too.

Oct. 14

We arrive at the Cathedral early to get a seat for the noon pilgrim mass. According to legend, St. James, one of Christ’s Twelve Apostles, was buried in a nearby forest by his disciples. In 1075, a sanctuary began to be erected around his relics resulting in today’s monumental Cathedral. The highlight of the mass is the swinging of the Botafumiero, the largest incense burner in the world. Originally, its purpose was to fumigate the sweaty and disease-ridden pilgrims. Six attendants continue the ritual of the swinging which reaches a speed of over 40 miles per hour.

Unfortunately, we are not able to touch the central column of the Door of Glory; too many hands before us have eroded the marble, so it is now covered with plexiglass. We do, however, maneuver through the crowds to the crypt under the altar to view the relics of St. James and offer up a prayer.

Next, we head to the Pilgrim Office to obtain our Compostela (certificate of completion). The line snakes around and we’re told it’s an hour wait, but running into our pilgrim friend from Lake George, New York makes the time fly by.

She tells us of the older man that she had first met on her flight to Spain. His wife had recently died and he felt so lost and alone. She then confided that she had also lost her spouse, so understood his pain. What a surprise it was to see him exit the same hotel elevator that she was entering in Santiago, now over a month later. They dined together that night and he seemed like a different person, recounting how he had learned so much from the pilgrims he had encountered along the way. The emotionally charged conversation also taught her a thing or two and she felt as if she had come full circle along with him.

We hugged and a minute later, she was lost in the crowd. I stood there with tears in my eyes, wanting to hold on to this newfound relationship, then realizing that I had none of her contact information. This is the essence of the Camino; the deep connections that you make with pilgrims from all walks of life and from all over the world that are even more precious because they are in the moment.

Oct. 15

The weekend crowds are gone, so we head back into the Cathedral to do a little more exploring. Today, we are able to view the church in all its glory and the Baroque altar glittering with gold stands in full view. All through Spain, whether the smallest of villages or the larger towns, the amount of money that the Catholic church has spent on its churches through the years is astounding. It’s hard for me to fathom that I am one of the many pilgrims that have arrived here since the Middle Ages, taking time to reflect at the end of the journey just as they did all those years ago.

After a walk through the public market and a lunch of grilled pulpo (octopus), we spend the afternoon exploring the narrow, winding, cobblestone streets. Then, it’s time to meet the pilgrim couple from Tacoma and toast both husbands, who will soon be celebrating a special birthday, just one day apart.

No one seems to want to go home after the Camino. Our friends are off to Porto, Portugal and we are headed to the “end of the earth.”

 

 

 

Oct. 10 -12: Palas de Rei to O Pedrouzo

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You never know what you’ll find around the next corner.

Oct. 10: Palas de Rei- 16 miles, seven hours

It always surprises me when a pilgrim walks by me smoking, but in Europe cigarettes are part of the culture. It’s very common to see generations of the same family all smoking together at the local cafe.

As we travel through woods and farmlands, I sense that the inclines and descents are steeper than yesterday. We’re traveling through dairy country and corn cribs are everywhere. They look like little houses on stilts and are used to dry and store the corn used to feed the animals. To make the time go by, we play a game, calling out the oldest (one said 1856 on it), newest, most decorated and most likely to fall apart if blown on. I tell Mr. Wiz* that I’d like one for my birthday. I hope he knows I’m kidding.

Pensíon Palas is a bit outside of the city and we’re glad to finally arrive. It’s nothing special; plain, but clean. We head into town and see our Canadian friend, who asks us to join her for a glass of wine. We enjoy hearing about her adventurous life, starting with boarding school in Belgium, then living abroad in different cities. She excuses herself in order to enjoy her bathtub (most rooms only come with a shower) and we head to dinner.

Oct. 11: Arzúa- 16 miles, seven hours

The forecast says rain and we trudge up and down through farmland all day long. Just as we’re heading for the steepest part of our trek, we meet a pilgrim from Lake George, New York. We pass the time with my stories of the many happy childhood vacations there. The Caldo Gallego we find for lunch is good and hot and it hits the spot. It’s my favorite soup, made with onions, white beans, potatoes, kale and/or cabbage.

Just as we see the sign for the turn-off to Casa Garea, the rain turns to drizzle. As we head into the eucalyptus forest, the wonderful scent and the singing birds help us to forget for the moment that we feel like two wet rags.

The buildings are old, but the beamed ceilings, stone and starched white linen curtains give it a homey feel. After settling in, we enjoy a glass of wine in the common area. Our Lake George friend greets us with a big smile and announces that this is the first time on the Camino that she will have a private room. We tease her that she will not be able to return to the albergue bunk beds. When we notice a single place setting at one of the dining room tables, we invite her to join us for dinner and a good time is had by all.

Oct. 12: O Pedrouzo- 15 miles, seven hours

It’s drizzling, but we head back through the eucalyptus forest to return to the Camino route with a spring in our step, thinking of the bacon and egg breakfast we plan to treat ourselves to.

The rain is playing a game with us all day; every time we decide we’re too hot and take off our raincoats, it starts to drizzle again. In the end, we decide that the cool mist feels better.

We’re walking right through farms all afternoon, so much so that at one point a farmer asks us all to stop, so his cows can cross the road to his other pasture. The drizzle turns to a pouring rain and the cows are the only ones that seem content.

Pension LO is only a couple of years old. It’s all white decor and contemporary feel are a welcome change. I like the quote that decorates the wall above our bed in script: “The best things in life are the people we love, the places we’ve been and the memories we’ve made along… the Way.”

Only breakfast is served in their dining room and we are not looking forward to having to head to town for dinner in the driving rain. The woman at reception asks us if we’d like to order pizza from a local takeout place, the two couples eating in the dining room give us a thumbs-up on the food they are enjoying and we are so happy that we don’t need to venture out. We enjoy a cozy evening, dining and chatting with the couples from California and Washington state.

*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.