Stanley and David make their way down the hill to come by for breakfast at our hostel. We skip breakfast since it's 4€.
Father Stanley is a Camino celebrity right now. Reasons: 1) He is incredibly friendly and extroverted--no such thing as a stranger to him 2) He's indian and indians are uncommon to see walking the Camino since it's costly (by their standards) and not a Hindu pilgrimage, but rather a Christian one 3) He wears traditional Indian clothes to walk in, which makes him even cooler looking. Everone else is in convertible pants and Northface gear, and here Stanley is in a tunic, 4) He's a priest... Walking the Camino. Perfect.
"Father Stanley, did you ever think you would be a Camino celebrity?"
"I had no idea. I thought I would be the least noticed man."
Because of his fame, the hospitalero of course wanted pictures with him. They asked us to be in the pictures, too. We took off at 8:30.
I kinda woke up in a bad mood. Hormones? Exhaustion? Worries? Who knows...?! But I knew I'd only snap out of it with some alone time to think. So I plowed ahead to the front. The way front where everyone else would by out of sight and out of earshot. I thought, and I prayed, and my brain told itself positive things to pull out of the funk.
We reached Villafranca where we were supposed to stay the night before (according to the stages in my guidebook). I'm glad we stayed where we did.
I ordered a fresh orange juice, coffee, and toast with jam. A few minutes later another round of coffee and jam.
We skedaddle.
There are three option paths to our next destination. Hard but pretty, medium and kinda pretty, and easy along the road. I try to navigate our smaller group (Lainey, Chris, and Julia) out of Villafranca and onto the medium path, but my map is unclear and quite possibly incorrect. We end up following along the path we hadn't wanted to--the easy road path. I'm disappointed at first, however the path ends up being full of gorgeous views anyway as we walk through the valley, along the rivers, and surrounded by trees of all types (even pines!! Eek!!).
We pass through a few very small forest towns and eventually stop in one for a rest. Julia buys us all ice cream. What a gal!
I've been listening to and singing a lot of Julia Nunes on my iPod, and one of the lyrics to a song says "Julia just settle down" and every time I sing that part I see out of the corner of my eye that Julia looks back at me. English is her third language, so hearing it she might think, "I swear this chick keeps singing my name." I haven't addressed it yet. It's kind of a game I'm playing. haha
Lainey, Chris, and Julia planned on staying in Trabadelo in the parroquial hostel. I would go on to Vega de Valcarce to visit Edu's parents, but first we head together to where they'll be staying.
As we approach their hostel, a local elderly lady follows us half way up hill just to be friendly. She wants to make sure we know that the hostel we are heading to washes AND irons the bedsheets every day. She's sweet.
As my friends check in, I take advantage of the existence of a toilet, plan on meeting the next day for breakfast, then head out on my own.
"Recto, guapa" (Straight ahead, pretty lady) says the gentle old man seated on the bench I pass as I leave the town.
I don't want to show up to their home empty-handed, so I buy some local wine and chocolate at a gas station a mile from there home. I also buy some candy and chocolate milk to snack on as I continue my walk. What a sweet tooth I've developed in this last week!
Big red house. Big red house. Big red house? Nope, the street is different than the picture I saw. Big red house. Big red house. There it is. Oh boy. Alright. Okay.
I was so nervous. Meeting strangers who would feed me. For no reason other than their son knows me.
I open the gate and knock on the door twice. After a minute a disheveled man opens the door.
"Is this the Barrio Fernandez residence?"
"No. Who are you looking for?" he grumbles.
"Edu Fernández Barrio. His parents ate expecting me. Do you know where I could find them?" I asked politely.
"Ah, are there expecting you?"
"Yes."
The uncle, I later found out, guided me around the side of the house to the entrance of Gaspar and Venancia's apartment on the third floor.
First he calls for them a few times, then he goes upstairs to knock, and returns with Gaspar.
"We've been waiting for you," he said a little irritated at first.
He invites me in and we walk up the stairs. On the second floor Venancia kindly greets me with a kiss on each cheek (Spanish custom).
They had fallen asleep waiting for me. Lunch would've been at 2:00 and it was now 4:30 almost. I felt bad.
I handed Gaspar the bottle of wine and chocolate.
"I brought you this wine from very, very far away," I sarcastically confessed. He looked at the label and chuckled.
"This is good stuff."
We walked up the stairs to the kitchen in their apartment. Their home is split into four apartments. I guess like a quadplex? But it's huge. They heat me up a delicious lunch of soup, pork chops, salad, and bread. After the awkward greetings subsided I right away felt like part of the family. So hospitable. So kind. I felt like I'd known them for years. As if they were my own family. Gaspar cut me pieces of artisan bread over the table cloth.
No sooner did I finish my last bite of dinner, that they had coffee on the stove and were discussing dinner. They insisted I stay for dinner (which would be around 9) and that they'd drive me to the next town where I'd stay in a room Edu's best friend David had reserved for me in his fancy hotel.
While sipping my coffee, I mentioned I'd put the liquor Crema de Orujo in a cup of coffee a few days prior. They both grinned at eachother, Gaspar stoop up and stepped toward the cabinet from which he pulled out a bottle of white liquor. Orujo. Pure orujo. And strong. They allowed me to pour a bit into my coffee. They stopped me before even a quarter shot. Apparently its equivalent would be Moonshine as far as strength goes. And it's homemade of residue from wine-making.
Gaspar left to go tinker in his mechanic shop down the street while Venancia and I chatted in the doily covered living room while we chatted with telenovelas on in the background. Occasionally she would give me the backstory on a seen between our conversation about our families.
I called David to let him know I'd arrived in town and that I'd stay for dinner. He said he wanted to go out for drinks later, so I needed to shower.
Venancia got me all set up with towels, shampoo, and even a hairdryer (oof, the luxuries I've missed). I got all clean and out of sweaty clothes. Mmm.
Time for Venancia to do round two of outdoor chores: collect/fold laundry, feed the cats, and feed and lock-up the chickens. I stood by the creek that runs by their house and admired their community garden and the forest behind her house in the cool afternoon breeze. She escorted the chickens into the coop by shaking their tin of food. How do you call a cat? "Meow", "Psspss", "Here kittu, kitty"? Venancia calls her outdoor cats (one that only had a pom-pom for a tail since birth) by saying "Meass, meass". Maybe it's a Spain thing. Or maybe it's just a Venancia thing, but it's adorable. She's adorable. And gorgeous. A stunning grandma.
We went back inside to get started on dinner. All afternoon I offered to help with dishes and meal prep and she refused. "You just relax and rest," she demanded.
I colored at the dining room table in my adult coloring book while she cooked up tapas: fried calamari, croquetas (mashed potato balls, I think), and Spanish tortilla. Gaspar comes back from the shop and grabs me a coke, gets out some home-jarred peppers, and homemade wine. Amazing. All of it.
We eat with the tv on. It's the news. They fill me in on the corruption of one of the political parties.
After supper, Venancia got out some thick, sweet jam and sliced cheese to put on the artisan bread for dessert. She, yet again, brewed me up some rich espresso. Constant thoughtfulness. Constant.
While Venancia gets ready to go, Gaspar and I laugh at "Top 5" comedy show. Gaspar graces me with a whole bag of walnuts and hazelnuts to take for the road. Venancia comes back and gives me a roll of cookies. The generosity is unrelenting.
They drive me a few towns ahead (7min) to where the hotel is. David, who grew up playing with their son, greeted us and offered to buy drinks. Gaspar and Venancia stayed for a few minutes for tea and wine to catch up. David runs the family hotel with his sweet sister. He escorted me to my lovely, rustic room (with two beds!) to leave my stuff and then we exchanged goodbyes and kisses with Gaspar and Venancia.
David wanted to take me out to a bar. The first one we drove to was closed, so we backtracked to a close one. We enjoyed rum and lemon Fanta while he smoked and we chatted in the wood-walled, medieval bar. He took me back to my room. I had to fidget with the key to get in, and he came running back up the stairs to assist, but I got the door open.
It was so nice to end the day sleeping in a room with no one else. Peace and quiet. No loud breathing. No snores. Just me. All thanks to the Grace of strangers.
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