But never mind, today would be one of the loveliest, scenery wise. I’d deal with Melide when I got to it. In the meantime, it looked like I might be dealing with some rain. On the way into Palas de Rei, a fair-sized market town, I saw a rainbow. In Galicia, that always seems to come before the storm, strangely enough. I looked for an internet café. The one I went to last time seemed to have disappeared, but when I asked directions I found that it was still there, just on a different street than I remembered.
I loved how the grey cold stones of the ancient buildings contrasted with the lush green of the hills, nurtured by the cold rains off the Atlantic; austerity and abundance all rolled up into one soul-satisfying bundle. The weight of age and tradition balanced perfectly with the energy of the spring. It might be a bit different in winter, but the number of wood fires made me think that these people probably understood how to be cozy too.
On this day, I finally figured out what was going on with a couple I’d been meeting up with from time to time. I’d see the husband out walking the dog, and I’d see the woman hiking the camino, and always showing up before I did . At the start of this day, I finally saw them together,.... in a Jeep. He drove her up to the top of the very steep hill which I had just knackered myself climbing, let her out and kissed her goodbye. At lunch time, when I arrived in Coto and went to a bar to escape the rain, my suspicions were confirmed when the husband told me what they were doing. It was a selective Camino, probably because of the dog, I realized. On the last Camino, I’d have been angry about this, but this time, apart from the skipping of the really big hills part, I really didn’t care. They were obviously enjoying doing the trail in their various ways. I think the wife felt a little bit uncomfortable about it, but I saw her trucking into the office for her compostela anyway. The husband and I became nodding (and smiling) acquaintances for the rest of the trip!
At the same lunch table, where several people were crammed into the tiny bar escaping from a torrential downpour, were two more Canadians, and a couple in love. They were in their forties, but quite well preserved and very attractive to look at, and engaging to converse with. If they weren’t on their honeymoon, they were engaged in a torrid affair, because the couldn’t take their eyes or hands off each other. They were also quite tipsy already. He was one of those glib and polished Englishmen (I figured he was in Broadcasting, or maybe something in the City) and she was Scandinavian (yes, just like that).
We all had a jolly time eating huge bocadillos of local Arzua cheese, creamy and mild, tomatoes as big as your head, homemade bread, all sopping with herbed oil. When the skies cleared for a moment, I decided to head out. The loving couple decided to order another bottle of white.
I kept my raingear close at hand but managed not to need it that afternoon. I rejoiced when I came into one of my favourite villages, San Xulian, and realized that although it was pretty spruced up in comparison to how it had been three years ago, there was still lots of scope for the imagination in the tumbledown farmsteads and profuse flowering of wild roses. I stopped and rested on a brand new bench near the old lavadero. I felt myself relax. I was officially in the home stretch now. Just like last time, that knowledge gave a spring to my step, even though my body was still complaining about how long we’d walked and how heavy the pack was.
There were lovely woods. During one climb over bare rock, I met a Spanish cyclist walking his bike up the slick track. “ Muy duro, eh?” I said (Canadian to the last) “Si,” he replied, “pero mejor que la carreterra!” Better than the highway? I’d have to agree with that!
The last stretch to Melide ran through some industrial park and around the back of factories and gravel pits. Last time, I’d been afraid there, doom-ridden. This time was nothing like that at all. It was not the prettiest place I’d walked, but the mood was entirely different. As Great Big Sea would sing....
Hey, hey, hey, it's an ordinary day, and its all your state of mind....
Too true!
On that last stretch I fell in with another couple of highly estimable Americans, Kate and Curtis, who seemed to me to live a lovely kind of life. In the summers, Curtis maintained trail and guided hikers in the mountains of New Hampshire, and Kate gardened for the very rich in Martha’s Vineyard. In the winter, they travelled. They’d been EVERYWHERE! This only added to the carpe diem theme that was creeping in. How many more Caminos would there be for me? And what about the rest of the planet? There were lots of places I still wanted to go. Waaah!
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