Soaking it all in

We had an amazing breakfast of scrambled eggs, locally made cheese, toast, juice, and coffee. We decided not to take the taxi back to O’Cebreiro, but instead to start walking directly from Fonfria to Triacastela. Thunderstorms were forecast starting at 10 AM, so we wanted to get a bit of ahead of the weather, especially given that there is another short bit of steep downhill to navigate. This was another opportunity for me to let go of my perfectionism and OCD tendencies. It meant cutting 12 km, and I realized I don’t have to go back to that same point where we left off, and walk back to where we were this morning. Doing so would be a little, well, OCD. The Camino literally goes right past where we were staying. Starting our walk from there would make for another shorter day today. Once we get to Sarria tomorrow, we have no more options for shortcuts. In order to get the coveted Compostela, we have to attest to walking all of the last 100kms. We still have some longer days ahead - including our second 18-mile day - so giving a little extra rest to the aching joints and muscles is a good thing.

Rain was forecast, but the morning started out clear and sunny. The trail again was on wide gravel track that ran parallel to the freeway, but was far enough away that we didn’t hear the sounds of the cars. Only the sounds of the occasional cow, a distant cuckoo bird, and a shepherd calling to his flocks. We did come across the Spanish equivalent of a PG&E crew up on the tower doing some kind of maintenance or repair. Not matter the country, that’s a tough job.

As I walked today, I was reflecting on the fact that we have only six days of walking left. I am trying to soak in the sights and sounds and smells (yes, even the cow shit that permeates the air in all of these mountain towns) of the Camino. Trying to slow down and savor the richness of the experience - the beauty and the pain. Embracing the new, the unknown, the discomfort. I am reminded of the three words on the stone that I left at the base of the Cruz de Ferro. Pray. Wait. Trust. All three things that have not been my strengths throughout my life. How will this experience change me? How will it impact my ability to pray and wait and trust? (I think I can definitively say that I have entered the spiritual stage of the Camino…)

We stopped in the cute little village of Fillobal and had our usual cafe con leche. The place had the most delicious looking homemade cakes, but we were just too full from breakfast to sample them. When we resumed walking, I started chatting with a 45-year-old man named Brian from Ireland. He just quit his job as an international financial advisor, a job he said was killing him. Good for you, Brian, for recognizing that and taking back your life! He is walking the Camino to figure out his next steps. He was amazingly knowledgeable about politics all over the world. (Sadly I could not reciprocate with much insight into EU politics.) He said he just cannot understand the American love affair with guns. Why are we not all horrified? I told him I couldn’t understand it either. I felt a bit embarrassed in that moment to be American. He said I shouldn’t be, because people everywhere still love Americans. In spite of the guns. In spite of the politics. Maybe they love Americans but are horrified by our politics. That’s fair. But I was left pondering what I can do to help address this bane in our country.

We got into Triacastela on the early side (and not a drop of rain), but were able to check into our hotel at around 12:30. We met up with our other American friends, Susie, Elsie, Carol and Carl. We are all staying at the same place tonight, so we had lunch with Carol and Carl. The hotel gave us a dinner ticket and said we could eat anytime we wanted. Rory and I decided to have our big meal mid-day, so we went to the adjacent restaurant where I tried beef tongue! The culinary adventures continue! A couple weeks ago, we were chatting with some pilgrims we met from Belgium; they said that in Belgium they regard tongue as a “holiday food”; it is considered a delicacy and saved for special occasions only. So when I saw stewed beef tongue on the menu, I thought, why not? And it was delicious! Not sure if it was the preparation, but it tasted to me a bit like filet mignon. Soft, buttery and rich. (Mark, this is NOT a request to make it when I get back!) After a big meal and a glass of wine, we went back to the room and I promptly fell asleep for a couple of hours. I’m just not cut out to be a day drinker!

With that big lunch, we weren’t really hungry for dinner. So we just decided to stroll the town, went to the market for some essentials (fruit, deodorant, candy) and then a little nightcap before bed. Ready for another day!