Literal thought that occurred to me in these wee hours of the morn: "I don't really need to make it to Santiago. I've come this far, and that could be enough. Maybe I can take a bus later to a train station and just go back to Barcelona today. That way I could sleep for a few hours more."
Ha. Sleepy Lynda ready to throw the 465 miles she's already walked out the window. Of a train.
Luckily I got out of my funk with a few crackers with peach jam.
Off we went. In the dark. Not the best place to have a keen sense of smell. Stinky city smells. The sidewalk we followed eventually became a street, which became a gravel road, which became a dirt path in the country. You subconsciously walk a little faster in the dark. Instinct I suppose. A lot of pilgrims on the path even at this early hour before dawn. We pass through a tunnel. Flashlight definitely required.
I began to lose the group. Mostly because I was feeling hot and sweaty in all my layers. Even without the sun, it was warming up quickly. Beamed my flashlight at my feet as I walked along the path through the navy blue tinted forest.
As the sun begins to rise, I start to notice our surroundings more. We walk past lots of farms in the region of Galicia. Some with cows. Some with sheep that have tails (which I've only ever seen here). Lots of corn. The sun exposes the overcast sky with its thick, fluffy clouds. Maybe we didn't need to start so early afterall.
We stop at a clean, cheap, and nice cafetería. I get a coffee, a chocolate napolitano, a banana, and a white chocolate to share later.
Half way into breakfast, Stanley and big David show up. I take the opportunity to apologize to Stanley in person for unintentionally ignoring his questions the night before. He pats my shoulder to assure me there are no hard feelings.
Lainey cleans up our table and takes in our dishes (this is a thoughtful gesture she demonstrates everywhere we go) and we continue on.
Not even a half hour after, I realize I need a restroom, so I stop at the next bar cafe and insist the others go on for me to catch up to.
Near most bar/cafe restaurants are signs posted "Customers only". I tend to take it as a suggestion rather than a mandate when it comes to emergency situations.
Donkey! As I was heading down the path looking for my three peeps, I spotted a donkey in the path up ahead. Tied to a tree by a tent. First thing's first, scratch him behind the ears and give "Rocinante" (as his description sign said he was called) lots of love. There was a stamp and a shell to leave a donation in (so he and his owner could continue traveling). I bent down to take care of those two things as a man approached.
"How much is it?"
"It's a donation," I replied as I stamped my credencial.
"Can you stamp my credencial?"
"Sure."
"How long have you had him?"
"Oh, he's not mine. I'm just stamping my credencial. I'll stamp yours, too."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought he was your donkey."
I smiled. He asked me to take hos picture with Rocinante (named after Don Quixote character) and he did the same for me. Then I continued to scratch "my" donkey behind the ears before I continued on.
I reached a bar where I spied my buds hailing me over from where they were seated at an outdoor patio in the dead grass.
After I grabbed a seat, I took out my uke to practice Brand New Key by Melanie. Every since I played it for Chris and Lainey, we've been randomly breaking into the chorus. That and "I've found you Miss Magoo" (a unique YouTube girl's rendition of "Miss New Booty").
The Slovenian couple and the gal from New Jersey that I've seen almost every other day came and sat at our neighboring table. There was a Slovenian flag hanging from the window of the bar, which they were stoked about. Jersey gal ordered a grilled cheese. It looked perfect. I would order one later, I decided.
Before we headed on, I went inside for a stamp. I want to fill as many stamps in my credencial as I can before reaching Santiago. From the hundred mark you need at least two a day.
The bar is covered in sharpie and pen graffiti all over the walls. It's become part of the decor. T-shirts pilgrims have signed and left are hanging from the ceiling giving the bar a snuggly ambiance.
The Slovenian couple and Jersey gal leave with us at the same time. A town we will be approaching soon is called Santa Irene. Which makes me think of the song Come On Eileen because Lainey and I sang it a few weeks back. I play it out loud on my phone. Lainey and Chris break into a cute complimentary dance as they walk, Matt and I bust little moves, and we can hear Mrs. Slovenia and Ms. Jersey laughing behind us. I stop to take a picture of the sheep with the tails while the music is still going and Lainey waits for me. We catch up behind the group with the song still going. Mrs. Slovenia and Ms. Jersey start dancing and singing along. It's the perfect pilgrim moment. And best enjoyed on the day before arriving to Santiago.
We are so excited about arriving that we don't even have conversations anymore. We're in this constant soberly wasted state where our appendages flail at random, we trip over pebbles, and the only words that come out of our mouths are movie and video quotes and songs that have no relevance to anything going on around us. Poor Matt, being Canadian, only gets about 5/8 of the pop culture references Lainey, Chris, and I make. He's a patient guy.
We stop at a bar for a pee-er and a shoe changer in our group. A dog (dachshund-mix) comes up to us for pets and Chris begins to serenade him with the ukelele and a personalized... I mean caninalized song for the pooch. I catch on and we sing it together in nasally voices (or "dog voices", as Chris calls them). Like I said, soberly wasted.
We stop for lunch at a bar and I order a grilled cheese (like I knew I would) and coffee. I check my email and my school in Madrid is demanding I pay my first semester today. I spend an hour switching money around accounts and wire services all over weak wifi. Finally it's done. My buds were kind enough to wait around for me while I got that all taken care of.
The Camino takes us through a beautiful forest of crooked trees. They tower over us. Extra-terrestrial almost.
We stop at a fancy restaurant patio where we see Stanley and big David were sitting at. The menu was expensive. We just ordered coffee and a coffee liquor to try aa we occupied tgeir table for an hour or so. We split crackers and nuts amongst us. I had hazelnuts left over from Gaspar, so I divided them amongst us and we cracked them with rocks as we walked.
We walked past the airport and down a hill to another overpriced bar. We only ordered icecream and fruit so we could use the restroom (customers only...). Most of us took off our shoes and socks to air them out. Although we had been blessed with an overcast day for most of it, the sun was not out and sweaty socks means blisters. I lied on the asphalt ground, exhausted and dreading the 10km we still had left.
David, Denis, and Olya caught up to us at that bar, and we all continued on together. This time they had a friend with them. A flirty, abrasive Italian wearing nothing but his shoes, pack, and girls' jogging shorts. No thanks, Tom Hanks. We have to leave because the owner is kicking us out as he puts away the patio table. He's not all too nice about it. It's whatever.
Stop at a fountain, as we usually do when we see one. I pick up a balloon that was left on the ground nearby, put it over the faucet to fill it, but it leaks from small holes. I make a joke at the level of a 13-year-old-boy. We keep walking.
I walk ahead with Chris and Matt because I don't want to be around Signore BootyShorts. We get way ahead of the group.
A Toyota pulls up with a car full of people. A man peeks his head out to as inquire of where we'd walked from today. None of us remembered the name of the city we had slept in just 12 hours prior. He rolled off.
Stopped at a shaded park and waited for the rest of the group.
Matt and David sing a Spice Girls song together. David literally finishes the song word for word. Davidis 20-years-old (the baby of our group) is in seminary to be a Catholic priest. And donmt let that age fool you. He's a knowledgable guy and has an opinion ready to lay on the table for just about anything. David is a self-proclaimed "dad" (maybe also reputation-proclaimed) due to his "dad" jokes and mannerisms. This is ironic because as long as he continues on the road to Catholic priesthood, he will never be permitted to marry or have children of his own. I was completely ignorant to this commitment in the Catholic religion prior to the Camino. As far as I knew, the Pope's wife lived with her handmaids in the Vatican. Shows you how much I know.
After a big stretch up a hill, a kilometer before our destination for the night, we stop for snacks. I was so hungry, but the kitchen was basically closed or out of everything. An orange and a peach juice will suffice for now. There are various ducks, chickens, geese, and peacocks roaming around this particular spot for unknown reasons.
We continue on and make it to the small town of San Marcos at Monte do Gozo where we will spend the night before our big descent into the city of Santiago de Compostela tomorrow morning (less than an hour walk to the Cathedral from where we are now). We plan on sleeping in the grass under the starsZ already a couple dozen pilgrims have their bags set up in the grassy yard by the church. They'd showered off in the spigot of the church. One girl was completely topless as she'd just washed off and was changing into a cleaner shirt. Not even five seconds after her shirt was on, did Signore BootyShorts make his sleazy way over to spit game with this chick whose tits he just saw. Turns out she was from Barcelona, so it totally makes sense that she'd not be concerned about being topless for a brief moment. Topless beaches are a thing in Barcelona anyway. But this guy... Sheesh.
I make my way up the small hill toward a 50ish foot modern monument pertaining to the pilgrimage. It had shoes and notes and pilgrim forgettens hanging from it or lying at the foot of it. Along the Camino on almost every monument, placard, fence, anything, you will find pilgrim boots, cards, notes, or just garbage made to look intentionally left for sentimental reasons.
From the monument I have a better look of the city ahead in the distance: Santiago. We'd get there tomorrow morning. It was so strange seeing the end in literal sight.
We all congregate back down by the small church. Some of us will go to 7pm mass, others will not. David shares some magnesium lime-flavored tablets with Lainey and I that we let foam in our mouth like candy.
I'm hungry again, so I begin to walk in the direction of the bar. Lainey, Chris, and Matt follow. We use Matt's GPS to navigate in a general dirrection, ask a local, and make it through the suburban neighborhood (Chris said it looked straight out of California--I would say the O.C. to be more specific), and made it to the covered patio of the only bar in San Marcos.
Our waitress is patient, kind, and helpful. We order raciones (appetizers) to share: fries, pan-fried pimienta peppers, chef salad, croquetas (deep-fried mashed potato balls), fried calamari, pork ribs, and octopus. The octopus was SO good. It was Matt's suggestion since he was the only one who'd ever had octopus. I had low-expectations for both taste and texture. I can honestly say it was my favorite appetizer we had. The region of Galica is known for it's pulpo (octoupus), so maybe that had some influence. Cooked to perfection. Everything was. And it was fun sharing all the food.
We split a few cakes for dessert just as Olya, Denis, and David arrived. They started ordering at their own table. They'd gone to the mass and then checked into the 500 bed albergue that turns out is donativo. Since it was overcast most of the day, we decide to check-in their, too, rather than sleep on the grass outside. We pay and make our way up, across, and down the hill to the huge, modern, multi-building albergue. The polish gals get us checked-in and show us to our beds and point out the facilities.
I get my bag organized, shower, and get to bed. Tonight has a different feel. The air feels stiff, rather than eager. I'm sure we're all appreciative to have come to the end, but at the same time we're dreading the goodbyes.
I'm physically, mentally, and spiritually ready to be done. I'm socially just getting comfortable. And now that I'm comfortable it's going to be over. I don't want to think about it. I roll-over.
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