🎵 Song of the Day
https://youtu.be/bTf2AbbjJjA?si=n5w7fLeJKmqPYVe2
So here I sit, on the step of my hotel, Coke in hand, a slice of pizza on the table in front of me, and nothing else to do today. It’s just past midday, and I’ve already walked my 23 kilometers. My feet are up, my bed is soft, and there’s a quiet contentment in knowing I’m done walking until tomorrow.
The hotel is simple—more of a truck stop than a pilgrim’s paradise—but after a morning on the road, it does the job just fine. Clean bed. Decent bathroom. And a good view of the passing pilgrims.
As I sat watching them go by, a few observations stood out today.
First, I keep noticing how many pilgrims dress to match. Couples. Groups. Sometimes even entire families, all in matching jackets, backpacks, and hiking gear. It’s strangely heartwarming. There’s something quietly unified and symbolic about it—almost like they’re saying, we’re in this together.
Second, the route today gave us a choice early on: a shorter road walk or a longer one through the vineyards. Of course, I chose the vineyard. It was peaceful, winding, and full of early morning beauty. But sadly, once I rejoined the main route, that was the end of the off-road fun. The next 18 kilometers were all tar road.
And here’s the frustrating part: the road itself ran alongside a beautiful river, but we never actually got to walk next to it. Instead, we trudged along between barriers—one separating us from the road, another separating us from the river. It felt like a missed opportunity. With a little imagination and effort, the Camino today could’ve been spectacular. Instead, it was just hot, hard road.
Third, these little Spanish villages are full of forgotten homes. Abandoned, crumbling, and very much for sale. You start to imagine… what if? A fixer-upper summer place in Spain. It probably gets blisteringly hot, and you’d need a good deal of elbow grease, but there’s something romantic about the idea.
And then… a real pilgrim moment.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped to pet a dog. Two pilgrims were sitting beside it, and one of them asked me—haltingly, in broken Spanish—why I was walking the Camino. I told her about Angé. She didn’t say much. Instead, she and her companion simply reached out and placed their hands on me… and prayed.
No big ceremony. No performance. Just a quiet moment of connection, compassion, and something sacred shared between strangers on the side of a dusty road. It caught me completely off guard—and moved me more than I expected. That’s the Camino. That’s what we mean when we say “the spirit of the Camino.” A true pilgrim experience.
Other than that, it was a day of quiet walking—just me, the river beside me, and the steady rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other. There’s about 170 kilometers left now to Santiago. At 23 kilometers a day, that’s just over a week more of walking. We’re getting close.
On a lighter note, I tried to find some octopus last night—craving a bit of Galician tradition—but being Sunday (or actually Monday… I’ve lost track), everything was shut. No pulpo for me. And tonight? Well, at this little highway-side hotel, I think it’ll be more burger and chips than seafood delicacy.
No complaints though. Today was a good day. A solid day of walking. A soft place to land. A cold Coke. And the gentle satisfaction of being done before most people have finished lunch.
Until tomorrow.