Day 28: Fonfria, Triacastela, and Samos

Darkness. My brain was on hibernate rather than sleep mode. My phone was charging in the bathroom overnight and I wanted to be the first one to it. The Camino has been considerate, but you can't be too trusting. Grabbed my phone, packed my bedding, and dragged my bag into the common room. The bar was already open at 5:45am even though it was still dark. No sign of sun yet. I used the bar bathroom to get ready in order to let the other pilgrims sleep without extra noise. Rather than take off early as I originally had in mind, I opted to wait for Chris and Lainey to be ready so I could wait under a wool blanket on the couch a little longer. We were heading out just as the sun was rising a little after six. We walked separately in a line until the first town where the cows warranted a stop and a looksee. Big ole heifers munching the leaves from the trees. Lainey and I walked together and chatted the rest of the day. Today would be an easy walk mostly downhill and through small farm towns like yesterday. We stopped for a nice breakfast at a bar in Fonfria. I ordered OJ and a coffee and we shared toast with jam and Spanish apple pie. Lainey and I used the wifi to exchange a few favorite YouTube videos involving kids. "Is it really in there?" (in a British accent) is a phrase she's been repeating the past week, so it was necessary that I see the hilarious video that inspires this quote.

Down the hills we went once more.
We eventually made it to Triacastela, a slightly larger farm town. Here they live in stone barn homes. The bottom floor is where they keep their livestock and grains, the top floor is the house. Different.

We stop for a second breakfast of patatas fritas (french fries) and bread. We bump into these sweet ladies from Ashland, OR--Bev and Jodi--at many of our stops. Pretty middle-aged friends doing the Camino together. They might have connections to my best friend who lives up there.

We made the plan to go to the monastery in Samos for the night, so we planned to take the alternate route. It would only be another 10km, so maybe 2 hours or so.
Lainey and I walk together and talk about life. We've been able to connect a lot based on similar families and church experiences and even personalities, really. I enjoy her company more and more every day.

With just 3km (a half hour) to go we stop a sit on the side of the path to crack and eat the walnuts and hazelnuts Gaspar had gifted me. We use rocks, hands, teeth... Whatever we can to crack and enjoy these nuts. I share some with the Slovenian man I keep seeing along the trail. His wife is so cute. She always thanks me when she sees me because I suggested switching to sandals rather than her boots to recuperate from her many blisters. It's helped immensely, she says.
I can pretty regularly alternate between my boots and my sandals to maintain blister-free.

After going through a tunnel of tropical-looking trees and ferns, we arrive in Samos, home of the oldest running monastery on the western side of the world.  It's beautiful and quaint.

We arrive to the monastery albergue stocked with 35 bunks, however the hospitaleros are out to lunch, so we drop our bags and head across the street to the bar. Lainey said something about a sign advertising sangria, so I order one just for the heck of it. Oh. My. Gosh. I could drink this sangria all day long. I compliment the bartender on it. He says it sits in a glass container for two days after the mixing process. It tastes like Christmas. It actually reminds me a lot of ponche, a fruit cider in Mexico. I really could've spent the whole afternoon drinking several of these sangrias, but I stopped at one since it was a bit strong. We head back to check-in to the albergue, shower, and do laundry.

We headed back across the street and up to the bar patio. A pair of Spanish old guys grabbed my attention and insisted I take a seat. They shared with me their own perspective on Camino culture. The one guy was 4..5..12 sheets to the wind. Not sure how many drinks in he was, but every one noticed. Spaniards use a lot of hand-movements and sound effects when they tell stories... And even more so when they're drunk.
"There are three vitamins on the Camino..." they both started to inform me, "Actually, why don't you guess them. They're the "er" vitamins."
"Comer (eat)."
"Uh-huh."
"Beber...? (drink)"
"Yep..."
"And..."
"Jo... (fu**...) ah, but the Camino doesn't have any of the last one, so just the first two vitamins."
We all laugh.
"But really," continues Mr. Wastey-pants, "this is what makes the Camino so special. There isn't any of that number three. Everyone is just friends. Nothing more. This is what weeds out anyone that shouldn't be on the Camino... They won't come if they can't have that third one. That's why it's special."
He's right though. The unanimous platonic motives of the Camino make it so enjoyable and safe-feeling. No other pilgrims have made me feel unsafe in a sexual way.
The gentlemen bought me a glass of white Galician wine. Pepe, the drunker one, tried to also order me a tapa of Galician pulpo (octopus), but Pascual (the voice of reason and logic between the two of them) released me to go hang with my friends.

Lainey, Chris, and I head to the grocery store to pick up some snacks: bread, nutella, jam, nectarines, and a tomato. We munch a little on bread by the river. Chris and Lainey dip their feet a little. We were looking for the fluvial beach, but the clerk at the grocery store said it was 2km away. No thanks, Tom Hanks.

After river shenanigans, it's time for a nap. As we head back, an Italian man is looking for the albergue with his autistic adult son. I was so touched. What an amazing thing to enjoy with your son. Physical, enjoying nature, meeting people. They were looking for two beds together in the albergue. Lainey offered up her's so they could be together, but they found another set. The young autistic guy was repeating something about the mountains. You could see in his eyes, his demeanor, that he was truly enjoying this journey with his father.

I fall asleep on my top bunk whilst trying to catch up on blogging. Lainey wakes me up a little bit later since we'd planned to go to mass where the monks would do the chanting Vespers. These are, apparently, the most famous in the world.

We sit in the back row. The Italian father and son come and sit in the back as well. Knowing his senses are heightened, I can't help but imagine what it must be like for that autistic young man to be listening to these beautiful chants in this huge Cathedral. He is so still and so focused on the moment as the voices of the monks and priests echo through the stone chambers of the church.

Mass ends and we head back to the albergue to grab our groceries and munch at the bar over coffee. White bread baguettes have become a dietary staple along the Camino. We season it with tomato and olive oil, nutella, or peach jam.

Everyone goes in to curfew. Since our albergue here doesn't lock, I sneak back out and head across the street to the bar. The bartender who I complimented earlier on his sangria graces me with a large coffee for just a euro. And here I am. Taking in the atmosphere. Recollecting my past few days over a cup of coffee in the cornee of a bar that has "Let it Be" playing over the speakers. It's 22 minutes to midnight. Tomorrow we'll try tomtake off before 6:30. We're less than 80 miles to the finish line. Wow.