Galicia built new albergues for the holy year (when the feast of St. James falls on a Sunday, its a holy year and good mojo for the Camino). So as the number of pilgrims increase (and their average age falls dramatically) there is, so far, still plenty of room. We finished walking, showering (there is always plenty of hot water in these new albergue), and laundering in time to go to the supermercado and get the ingredients for a fine bean stew (many of the albergue have ill equipped kitchens--a few pans, some plates, glasses and silverware). At the store I found a regional wine made from the Mencia grape, also unique to Galicia. As I chopped the veggies for the stew, I sampled the deep purple wine. Yowie, zowie was it good. The hospitalero noticed the bottle, and being a proud Galician, started telling me I had purchased a local treasure (£4.50, pricey by most standards here). We greeted a guy from Poland we had met a week ago and shared with him. The four of us now sat and swapped stories while the stew bubbled away. The Polish fellow is a retired professor of English literature. The Galician was young and full of stories--a regular Chaucer fest.
Then we were joined by a most surprising fellow--a United Methodist pastor from Seattle, WA. He was making his fourth Camino (2 on Camino Frances and one on the route from Seville to Santiago--he didn't do the whole 1000K). His church was the Seattle 1st near the Space Needle. Pete and he were diametrically opposites in their theological convictions and also starting talking shop, so I engaged with Stefan, the Pole. We had an illuminating talk about the Modernist/Symbolist movement in the early part of the 20th century (Joyce, Pound, Eliot etc). He recommended Under the Volcano by Malcolm Lowry as the final summation of the Modernist impulse. I hope to get it when I return home. A perfectly lovely evening--a good wine, a serviceable stew, and just dandy stimulating conversation.
The morning was cold and overcast. We set off in full rain gear both for protection and warmth. We had only 22K to walk. However we missed the coffee stop in a small village, and thus had no morning pick me up. We are now walking amid a larger group of pilgrims as we approach Santiago. They are young. They listen to music as they walk. The talk loudly in the 'dormitorio' when the old veterns want to sleep. As they passed us, or we passed them, I began to mar the day with a curmudgeonly heart. I vowed, for the sake of my family, to leave some of my curmudgeonly ways behind here on Camino. The young grow to the joy of life and thrive in their self-confidence when they are surrounded by loving support, not the nagging criticism of graybeards. My prayers today included a request to have a bit lighter heart as these final days will be evermore crowded with these young folk streaming to Santiago.
We climbed only a bit, and then looked out on the plains of inner Galicia. There will be no more climbs for us, only gentle rolling country lanes through green pastures just as the Psalmist says. The route avoided the road completely (and also coffee!). As the clouds broke in the late morning we crossed streams on ancient bridges, shared prayer with Jason N, Virginia D, and Doug T, and finally came to the albergue just in time to shower, do laundry, and find some food. The nearby restaurant had baby octopus with peas and potatoes--what is a starving peregrino to do? Buen Camino.
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