Breaking news! Tina and I are going to do the French Camino starting on July 13, 2019. Right now, we're in the middle of training. We're going to come up with a new blog site, one that can be attributed to each of us. I'll post a link once we create it. Stay tuned!
A year later, here's the link:
https://paco-tina-camino.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
Friday, July 17, 2015
Epilogue
If you haven't seen the movie "the Way" with Martin Sheen and his son Emilio Estevez, you should. It's about an American eye doctor whose son dies on the first day of the Camino. It chronicles his travels as he undertakes the French Route and scatters his son's ashes along the way.
If you've seen it, then you'll appreciate the following clip from Mass in the Cathedral on Friday night.
Now, I can shave my beard!
I went to Mass the following Sunday and shot this video at the end when they used the Botafumeiro. What a thrill! It's a much better video than the one above.
If you've seen it, then you'll appreciate the following clip from Mass in the Cathedral on Friday night.
Now, I can shave my beard!
Day Ten: Santiago
We took a tour of the monastery and finished with dinner, a simple affair of rice and fish. The most memorable part of the evening was when the octogenarian priest tried to force feed Michelle and me communion wafers even though we both have Celiac disease. He just didn't understand.
We told our hosts that we wanted to get an early start. How early? Six thirty. Fine, they said, they'd make us breakfast then.
Morning came and the five experienced travelers dressed and packed in the dark. Six thirty came and six thirty went. After seven, we were summoned for coffee and toast. It was very nice of them to make the effort, and we were being polite, but we could have been on the road and stopping at a cafe along the way. That lack of punctuality is typical of Spain and Portugal. You get used to it.
Starting out in the morning was bittersweet. The Camino is a process, and you embrace it. On the last day, it's obvious that the adventure is coming to an end. Bart told us that he intended to do the last day at his own speed, alone to absorb it all.
The day was foggy and misty. The trek would be 28 kilometers and hilly. Michelle was frustrated with the breakfast delays, and we set out on a really rapid pace. Perhaps too fast.
We told our hosts that we wanted to get an early start. How early? Six thirty. Fine, they said, they'd make us breakfast then.
Morning came and the five experienced travelers dressed and packed in the dark. Six thirty came and six thirty went. After seven, we were summoned for coffee and toast. It was very nice of them to make the effort, and we were being polite, but we could have been on the road and stopping at a cafe along the way. That lack of punctuality is typical of Spain and Portugal. You get used to it.
Starting out in the morning was bittersweet. The Camino is a process, and you embrace it. On the last day, it's obvious that the adventure is coming to an end. Bart told us that he intended to do the last day at his own speed, alone to absorb it all.
The day was foggy and misty. The trek would be 28 kilometers and hilly. Michelle was frustrated with the breakfast delays, and we set out on a really rapid pace. Perhaps too fast.
 |
| 10.166 Kilometers to go |
Once we got to Spain, we had both yellow arrows and official markers to follow. It was exciting to see the kilometers go down-but sad at the same time.
In a parking lot, somewhere between Padron and Santiago, we saw these two horses tied up outside a cafe in a parking lot. You can do the Camino on bike or horse or even using a mule to carry your stuff. We'd met the two guys riding these horses in a little town named San Miguel. They told us that the trip from Tui would take two days. Then came the parts we didn't expect. "Where do you stay at night?" "We find a field where the horses can graze and we roll out our sleeping bags."
"What do you do when you get to Santiago?" "We turn around and ride back home..." They were probably on their way back when we saw them in that parking lot.
At kilometer 4.871, appropriately 3 miles from Santiago, I developed a really sharp pain in my left shin. Get serious, we're not slowing down for a little pain.
We limped into Santiago a little after one PM. Tina and the kids had landed at the local airport. We couldn't enter the Cathedral with our back packs, so we went to the pilgrim's office to get our certificates.
We waited in line for more than 45 minutes. Then we were individually called up to present our passports.
When I received my certificate, I got all choked up with emotion. It was a combination of gratitude, elation, and sadness.
As we walked around, we saw lots of our friends from the Camino. You travel with a cohort, and you approximately get into town at the same time as your Camino friends. It becomes a big party.
I left Michelle in the Praza Obradoiro, in front of the Cathedral, and went to the hotel to meet up with Tina and the kids. I got a huge reception, as did my old man's beard.
Tina went out into the square to find Michelle, and here's what she found.
All our Camino friends found us, and at night we went out to see a local band that specializes in American blues, the Bakin Blues Band. Tina shot some great video, if I can get a copy, I'll post it.
The bar was hot and crowded, so we left and found a performance by a Tuna across from the Cathedral. Tuna does not refer to a fish. A Tuna is a student minstrel group performing traditional music on traditional instruments. In this case, the group was comprised of law students from the University of Santiago.
As for that pain in my leg, we're convinced that it's a stress fracture, and this old man is getting a cane as soon as he shaves the beard...
The Camino is a remarkable experience. It teaches you many things. Bart says it's a metaphor for life. He's right.
It teaches you humility-in a big way. You have limits and you bang into them. You sleep, exhausted in places one step above homeless shelters. You cope.
For me, one lesson was to let go. We'd start out in the morning without an idea of where we were spending the night. You've just got to have faith that things that things will work out. And, they always do.
You meet fascinating people on the Camino, many who have done this several times. They add to your experience, and you hope that you do the same for them.
This has been one of the best things I've ever done. Thanks for reading along.
As we walked around, we saw lots of our friends from the Camino. You travel with a cohort, and you approximately get into town at the same time as your Camino friends. It becomes a big party.
I left Michelle in the Praza Obradoiro, in front of the Cathedral, and went to the hotel to meet up with Tina and the kids. I got a huge reception, as did my old man's beard.
Tina went out into the square to find Michelle, and here's what she found.
All our Camino friends found us, and at night we went out to see a local band that specializes in American blues, the Bakin Blues Band. Tina shot some great video, if I can get a copy, I'll post it.
The bar was hot and crowded, so we left and found a performance by a Tuna across from the Cathedral. Tuna does not refer to a fish. A Tuna is a student minstrel group performing traditional music on traditional instruments. In this case, the group was comprised of law students from the University of Santiago.
As for that pain in my leg, we're convinced that it's a stress fracture, and this old man is getting a cane as soon as he shaves the beard...
The Camino is a remarkable experience. It teaches you many things. Bart says it's a metaphor for life. He's right.
It teaches you humility-in a big way. You have limits and you bang into them. You sleep, exhausted in places one step above homeless shelters. You cope.
For me, one lesson was to let go. We'd start out in the morning without an idea of where we were spending the night. You've just got to have faith that things that things will work out. And, they always do.
You meet fascinating people on the Camino, many who have done this several times. They add to your experience, and you hope that you do the same for them.
This has been one of the best things I've ever done. Thanks for reading along.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Day Nine: Galicia Burns Again
None. Those are the chances that a Franciscan Monastery has WiFi. I'm sitting in a hot bunk bed writing this on a word processing package. I'll upload it tomorrow. Let me tell you about my day.
We left the albergue in Caldas de Reis before six thirty after snacking on chorizo, cheese and fresh fruit. It took minutes to be out of town. The countryside today was about the prettiest we'd seen in Spain. There was a good amount of low fog and some parts of the walk were partly cloudy and windy as the sum rose. I took pictures, but I'm not sure you can capture these things without a really nice camera.
We met up with Bart about an hour out in, of course, the first cafe. We left him behind and continued race walking until we found the Dutch girls. We walked with them through beautiful forests and valleys. When we reached the only bar in the village of San Miguel, we stopped for refreshments. While we sat there, Bart caught up so we decided to split up again. Girls in one group and old men in the other.
We found the path to the monastery. It was very cool. It was much less traveled than the Camino. It was overgrown and ran alongside a huge river. Somewhere, a fire was burning, and you could smell it.
Helicopters were buzzing overhead when we got to monastery. A major forest fire was burning no more than. A kilometer away. We were in the smoke plume and ash was falling on us. The monastery didn't open until four and there was no place to drop our packs. This was looking like a bad idea..
Michelle called the hotelier of the monastery and was told that we'd be safe there and that we could walk up the road and probably drop our packs at a place called the house of God or something similar. I asked if it had WiFi. She ignored me.
Sure enough, we walked up the road, passing ladies picking padron peppers, and found a bar named Casa Dios. We weren't sure we'd stay in Herbon, but a cold drink would be nice.
As we sat on the front stoop, fire trucks sped by and big seaplanes dropped water on the fire. It was constant. We went inside and had an excellent lunch of local foods including pimientos de padron. While we ate, the hubbub subsided and the sky cleared up. We decided to stay in the monastery after all.
Why the title? In 2006, I lived in Galicia with the kids and a huge string of arson fires struck both Galicia and Portugal during the dry summer months. The fires were driven by economics, the arsonists wanting to free up protected lands for development. (We learned later that this fire, which made the national news, was arson.)
We walked back and waited until four when they opened the doors. The deal is this: they have been taking in pilgrims forever. You pay whatever you want. Tonight, they'll give us a tour of the monastery followed by mass at eight and dinner. In the morning, there's mass again and breakfast.
So here I am, sitting in a dorm room with the windows open like countless pilgrims before. Tomorrow, we walk to the. Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela.
I hope they have WiFi.
We left the albergue in Caldas de Reis before six thirty after snacking on chorizo, cheese and fresh fruit. It took minutes to be out of town. The countryside today was about the prettiest we'd seen in Spain. There was a good amount of low fog and some parts of the walk were partly cloudy and windy as the sum rose. I took pictures, but I'm not sure you can capture these things without a really nice camera.
We met up with Bart about an hour out in, of course, the first cafe. We left him behind and continued race walking until we found the Dutch girls. We walked with them through beautiful forests and valleys. When we reached the only bar in the village of San Miguel, we stopped for refreshments. While we sat there, Bart caught up so we decided to split up again. Girls in one group and old men in the other.
We found the path to the monastery. It was very cool. It was much less traveled than the Camino. It was overgrown and ran alongside a huge river. Somewhere, a fire was burning, and you could smell it.
 |
| Crossing the River on the way to the Monastery |
Helicopters were buzzing overhead when we got to monastery. A major forest fire was burning no more than. A kilometer away. We were in the smoke plume and ash was falling on us. The monastery didn't open until four and there was no place to drop our packs. This was looking like a bad idea..
 |
| Fire on the edge of town |
Michelle called the hotelier of the monastery and was told that we'd be safe there and that we could walk up the road and probably drop our packs at a place called the house of God or something similar. I asked if it had WiFi. She ignored me.
Sure enough, we walked up the road, passing ladies picking padron peppers, and found a bar named Casa Dios. We weren't sure we'd stay in Herbon, but a cold drink would be nice.
 |
| Seaplanes bombed the fire with water as we sipped our Cokes |
As we sat on the front stoop, fire trucks sped by and big seaplanes dropped water on the fire. It was constant. We went inside and had an excellent lunch of local foods including pimientos de padron. While we ate, the hubbub subsided and the sky cleared up. We decided to stay in the monastery after all.
Why the title? In 2006, I lived in Galicia with the kids and a huge string of arson fires struck both Galicia and Portugal during the dry summer months. The fires were driven by economics, the arsonists wanting to free up protected lands for development. (We learned later that this fire, which made the national news, was arson.)
We walked back and waited until four when they opened the doors. The deal is this: they have been taking in pilgrims forever. You pay whatever you want. Tonight, they'll give us a tour of the monastery followed by mass at eight and dinner. In the morning, there's mass again and breakfast.
 |
| Smoke in the chapel |
So here I am, sitting in a dorm room with the windows open like countless pilgrims before. Tomorrow, we walk to the. Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela.
I hope they have WiFi.
Day Eight: We Split Up
That evening in Pontevedra we went out with Bart and had tapas at a place he'd seen during the day. The high point of the meal was an octopus risotto with mussels and seaweed. We were all still talking about it the next day. It had saffron in it and was bright orange.
We left the hotel at 6:45 and Michelle seemed annoyed at how long it took to check out. Unlike in the US, they hadn't taken my payment information on check in. Michelle had seen pilgrims walking past the hotel--and we can't have any of that, now can we?
It was another beautiful morning as we walked through the countryside. We'd analyzed the map with our friends the day before and knew that there was a cafe two hours out and another one two hours later.
When we reached the first cafe, Bart and the Dutch girls, Anne and Marlose, were sitting under a grape arbor. In Galicia, everyone seems to have albariño growing on wires suspended about seven feet in the air. Underneath, it's very shady and cool.
We had our coffee and refreshments, and Michelle announced that she wanted to walk with the girls. That was fine with me. I walked with Bart. The girls walked so fast they disappeared.
One of the things that amused us was the group of Canadian turegrinos who were covering our route. About once an hour, we'd come to an intersection where we'd see their tour bus waiting to hand out refreshments or succor. We had to take a picture.
We found the girls a few hours later eating at the side of the road. Anne and Marlose were eating. Michelle's food was in my backpack.. We sat with them and snacked while other pilgrims walked by us. We asked one to take this picture.
We continued on to our destination, Caldas de Reis, a dumpy little town that has attracted people to its hot springs since Roman times. In the center of town, we found the girls with their feet in a thermal fountain just as the guidebook described.
Except the guide book said nothing about the old lady who came by and told us that we couldn't do that and that the Guardia Civil were going to come by and fine us. I could tell by the looks on the other locals that the old woman was a bit nuts, but we couldn't shake her. She said the same thing over and over and over. As she walked away, she buttonholed passers by to tell them what we'd done. We moved on.
Michelle decided that we were going to stay in the municipal albergue. We got there a half hour before opening time, so we sat on the sidewalk and waited. She snapped this photo while we sat. (Aqualung or Mr. French?)
Here it bears explaining: albergues are cheap lodging for one night. They can be one step above a shelter. They kick everyone out at eight in the morning and then clean the place. They don't open their doors until the afternoon, and admission is on a first come first served basis. Come ten PM, they lock the doors. No monkey business--you just got a room for as little as five euros.
Did I say room? I meant bunk bed. Sometimes, you get sheets. Usually, they're disposable.
This albergue was an experience. I hadn't taken a communal shower since high school. Michelle had never taken one. The WiFi was useless, so I couldn't upload pictures or write this blog.
Michelle went out with the girls, and I wandered around town looking for a spot to have dinner and an ATM machine. On the way back, I ran into Bart and we went to a nice looking courtyard cafe I'd seen for a glass of wine. As we sat there, the girls walked by and saw us. The town is that small.
Bart and I kept searching for a half way decent place to eat and walked into the back of a restaurant near the albergue. There we met Robert from Ireland sitting with a German couple. This was Robert's fourth Camino. He has scallop shells tattooed on each calf. He's very funny. Everything's "fooking" this and "fooking" that.
The first words he said to me "So, you're the American..."
There's not much else to tell about Caldas de Reis. Tomorrow, we've decided not to stay in Padron but to spend the night in a Franciscan monastery about three kilometers off the Camino in Herbon. What are the chances they have WiFi?
We left the hotel at 6:45 and Michelle seemed annoyed at how long it took to check out. Unlike in the US, they hadn't taken my payment information on check in. Michelle had seen pilgrims walking past the hotel--and we can't have any of that, now can we?
It was another beautiful morning as we walked through the countryside. We'd analyzed the map with our friends the day before and knew that there was a cafe two hours out and another one two hours later.
When we reached the first cafe, Bart and the Dutch girls, Anne and Marlose, were sitting under a grape arbor. In Galicia, everyone seems to have albariño growing on wires suspended about seven feet in the air. Underneath, it's very shady and cool.
We had our coffee and refreshments, and Michelle announced that she wanted to walk with the girls. That was fine with me. I walked with Bart. The girls walked so fast they disappeared.
We found the girls a few hours later eating at the side of the road. Anne and Marlose were eating. Michelle's food was in my backpack.. We sat with them and snacked while other pilgrims walked by us. We asked one to take this picture.
We continued on to our destination, Caldas de Reis, a dumpy little town that has attracted people to its hot springs since Roman times. In the center of town, we found the girls with their feet in a thermal fountain just as the guidebook described.
 |
| Ann Bertrand and Michelle, caught in the act |
Except the guide book said nothing about the old lady who came by and told us that we couldn't do that and that the Guardia Civil were going to come by and fine us. I could tell by the looks on the other locals that the old woman was a bit nuts, but we couldn't shake her. She said the same thing over and over and over. As she walked away, she buttonholed passers by to tell them what we'd done. We moved on.
Michelle decided that we were going to stay in the municipal albergue. We got there a half hour before opening time, so we sat on the sidewalk and waited. She snapped this photo while we sat. (Aqualung or Mr. French?)
Here it bears explaining: albergues are cheap lodging for one night. They can be one step above a shelter. They kick everyone out at eight in the morning and then clean the place. They don't open their doors until the afternoon, and admission is on a first come first served basis. Come ten PM, they lock the doors. No monkey business--you just got a room for as little as five euros.
Did I say room? I meant bunk bed. Sometimes, you get sheets. Usually, they're disposable.
This albergue was an experience. I hadn't taken a communal shower since high school. Michelle had never taken one. The WiFi was useless, so I couldn't upload pictures or write this blog.
Michelle went out with the girls, and I wandered around town looking for a spot to have dinner and an ATM machine. On the way back, I ran into Bart and we went to a nice looking courtyard cafe I'd seen for a glass of wine. As we sat there, the girls walked by and saw us. The town is that small.
Bart and I kept searching for a half way decent place to eat and walked into the back of a restaurant near the albergue. There we met Robert from Ireland sitting with a German couple. This was Robert's fourth Camino. He has scallop shells tattooed on each calf. He's very funny. Everything's "fooking" this and "fooking" that.
The first words he said to me "So, you're the American..."
There's not much else to tell about Caldas de Reis. Tomorrow, we've decided not to stay in Padron but to spend the night in a Franciscan monastery about three kilometers off the Camino in Herbon. What are the chances they have WiFi?
Monday, July 13, 2015
Day Seven: Pontevedra
We got up early and for once didn't worry about waking up any of the other pilgrims. There were plenty of people getting up--there were 42 bunk beds...
We started out at about 6:30 AM, which was better, in my opinion, because we had twilight to guide us. The walk today was a mere 20 kilometers (after yesterday, everything seems a lot shorter).
The Camino now has two distinct sets of travelers. The real backpackers and the turegrinos that I spoke about in yesterday's update.
When we reached the town of Arcade (pronounced phonetically, not like the English word "arcade"), we had to cross this bridge across the Vigo Ria.
The historic center of Pontevedra is beautiful. The buildings and streets are all granite, just like those Roman roads. We had lunch in a cafe. I had Merluza a la Gallega (Hake cooked in the Galician style, with sweet smoked paprika.) It was the best I've ever had.
This is the Iglesia la Perregrina. It's a block from the hotel. The floorplan is shaped like a scallop shell, the symbol of Santiago de Compostela.
I've been in this city before, but it's much cooler than I remember. If you're going to do the Camino, you need to budget time in places like this.
After lunch, I went shopping for provisions:
An adapter to replace one I lost in an albergue.
Chorizo, manchego cheese and fruit for tomorrow's hike.
Iodine for my blisters.
Bottled water.
An ace bandage for Michelle's ankle.
I came back with everything except the ace bandage. These are not stock items in Spanish pharmacies, which are very small, private shops-no CVS or Rite Aids here.
On a personal note, I haven't shaved since I left Washington, DC a week ago. I was hoping to look like the Old Spice guy. I fear I look like a cross between Aqualung and Mr. French. (If you don't understand, ask your parents...)
Tomorrow, we walk to a small town called Calda de Reis which has hot springs where pilgrims soak their feet. (I hope they have gluten free beer...) Stay tuned.
We started out at about 6:30 AM, which was better, in my opinion, because we had twilight to guide us. The walk today was a mere 20 kilometers (after yesterday, everything seems a lot shorter).
The Camino now has two distinct sets of travelers. The real backpackers and the turegrinos that I spoke about in yesterday's update.
When we reached the town of Arcade (pronounced phonetically, not like the English word "arcade"), we had to cross this bridge across the Vigo Ria.
Now, you probably can't see it, but there are three Canadian tourists on that bridge. They were part of a busload of Canadian turegrinos that started out of Tui. The bus carries their baggage and they stay in hotels.
Anyway, we catch up to them because we walk stupid-fast, and they ask where we're from. We answer " Baltimore and Chicago". They reply "We're from Southern Ontario, right across from Detroit".
I say, " My wife's uncle is a retired priest who lives in Windsor, across from Detroit".
"What's his name?" they ask.
"Mitch Kaminski", I reply.
"He serves mass at the Polish parish in Chatham. That's the church I go to. I know father Kaminski."
"He's my mother-in-law's brother."
"Small world.". Indeed.
We raced ahead. As I wrote yesterday, a lot of the Camino is on old Roman roads. The pavement is huge random shaped granite stones.
In the picture, you can see the wheel ruts from centuries of wagons traveling over the stones. I thought it was impressive. Michelle asked if I wanted her foot in the picture.
We got to Pontevedra early and checked into a hotel. We ran into Bart later, and he'd done the same thing. We'd all had enough of the turegrinos. We also wanted some space and clean dry clothes.
This is the Iglesia la Perregrina. It's a block from the hotel. The floorplan is shaped like a scallop shell, the symbol of Santiago de Compostela.
I've been in this city before, but it's much cooler than I remember. If you're going to do the Camino, you need to budget time in places like this.
After lunch, I went shopping for provisions:
An adapter to replace one I lost in an albergue.
Chorizo, manchego cheese and fruit for tomorrow's hike.
Iodine for my blisters.
Bottled water.
An ace bandage for Michelle's ankle.
I came back with everything except the ace bandage. These are not stock items in Spanish pharmacies, which are very small, private shops-no CVS or Rite Aids here.
On a personal note, I haven't shaved since I left Washington, DC a week ago. I was hoping to look like the Old Spice guy. I fear I look like a cross between Aqualung and Mr. French. (If you don't understand, ask your parents...)
Tomorrow, we walk to a small town called Calda de Reis which has hot springs where pilgrims soak their feet. (I hope they have gluten free beer...) Stay tuned.
Day Six: The Road to Redondela
Michelle and I had one roommate, a guy from Cadiz who had driven "1,000 kilometers" that day to start the Camino the next morning. He had this pronounced lisp which is one of the distinct Andalusian accents. He was nice, but we didn't stay up to talk because the following day was going to our longest, 32 kilometers (20 miles.)
So, we get up at 5:30 planning to hit the road at six. I haven't mentioned that Spain and Portugal are in different time zones. Six AM in Spain looks like Five AM in Portugal, i.e. pitch black.
We head into the quiet city and start scouring the curbs and corners looking for a yellow arrow. This is going to be interesting. Michelle's wearing a head lamp and I'm just following making wisecracks.
We found the Camino in the dark, but to be honest, it was poorly marked. Near the edge of town, we found the Dutch girls looking for the markers in the dark. It wasn't just us.
We were in the countryside as the sun rose. There was fog in the meadows. If was beautiful.
The guy at the next table says to us in perfect English "So are you guys the Americans? Didn't there used to be three of you?" We were floored, but struck up a conversation with Bart, an educator at the American School in The Hague. He's from Belgium and speaks five languages fluently and a few others passably.
We'd never thought of ourselves as the Americans, but then we realized we were and still are the only Americans we've run into on the Camino. This is a big responsibility. We won't embarrass you, America.
After almost 19 kilometers, we walked through the center of O Porriño. This early on a Sunday morning, it was pretty deserted. They were getting ready for some sort of fair. It looked like a nice place. Plenty of pilgrims stopped here for the night.
 |
| O Porriño |
After almost 19 kilometers, we walked through the center of O Porriño. This early on a Sunday morning, it was pretty deserted. They were getting ready for some sort of fair. It looked like a nice place. Plenty of pilgrims stopped here for the night.
We walked on, eventually starting up another hill, stopping in the little town on Mos.
 |
| The church of Santa Eulalia in Mos. |
We stopped in a cafe across from the church and had Cokes and sat with Bart again. The slog continued, this time with Bart in tow.
We got to Redondela and got spots at the municipal albergue. It's in an ancient granite building in the center of town, beautifully renovated. That was the good news. The bad news was that it was full of the young Spaniards and others who'd started in Tui. Apparently, these partyers are referred to not as perregrinos (pilgrims) but turegrinos. (Tur is Spanish for Tour). Some even had their backpacks picked up and delivered by a service...
We had lunch in a place next to the albergue with Bart. For the last 20 kilometers, all Michelle could talk about was ice cream.
The first of two...
Michelle took a nap, so Julia and I explored the town. It was dead. Sunday and some saint's day combined to close most businesses. We stopped in a cafe with WiFi and I had a gluten free beer.
 |
| Heaven. |
At seven, my cousin Marilyn arrived with her husband Felipe. We had some light fare at a cafe when this religious procession came by.
 |
| I still don't know what Saint it was! |
Marilyn took Julia with her to Moaña and we returned to the Albergue before they locked the doors at ten.
 |
| Felipe, Marilyn and the Americans |
So we're getting ready to go to bed and right behind the albergue, a concert of traditional Galician music starts.
 |
| View from the albergue |
For those of you who don't know, Galicia is Celtic Spain. If you look closely at the picture, you'll see the bagpipers. There were probably twenty. It was remarkable. It made me think of my uncle Manny and how much he would have loved it.
Afterwards, I had to tell the young Spaniards to shut up so the rest of us in the bunk room could get some sleep. The American...
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