The Process of Departure

 I looked out the window at a Ryanair plane and wondered why everything looked so dark, briefly thinking the windows were shaded.  But no, it is still night. I was rushing at the end to get out of the hotel, repacking, etc, to get to airport on time (how many flights have I managed to miss vs how many trips I've ever taken?  Let's just say the percentage is high.) I'd set an alarm for 1:30 am, and then of course didn't want to get up.  But once I got here, the people I encountered were very awake, and the line moved slow, so somehow t forgot it was the middle of the night.

Walking to the gate, once past check-in of course, I heard snoring, and continued to pass all the sleeping travelers, passed out in corners or making use of the closed eating areas to camp out. It's very quiet. Everything is shut.

The hotel was about a five minute cab ride from the airport. 20 Euros.  That hour-long ride to Leon was a steal in retrospect, considering he had to drive the hour back; it was 100 Euros.  A woman with a bike told me she paid a similar amount when she hurt her foot, and needed to transport self and bike.

The neighborhood was interesting, reminded me more of Latin America than Europe. I wouldn't think it was Madrid. I went for a walk in the heat. I was looking for a cafe or grocery store, there was actually a huge grocery store next to hotel, but I didn't see it because I went in the other direction.  What I did encounter was a weird sound coming from the trees.  An almost metallic chirp; I think it was some sorta insect, do they have cicadas here?  The few I caught a glimpse of looked like mutant crickets.  They blended in with the bark and were hard to see.

Later I walked toward a park, stopped at a cafe.  More birds than flies, the birds were landing on people, I think many were fledglings. They were panting in the heat.  Under the covered terrace water would spray down periodically to help cool things down, and I think they liked that, too.  In the park there was a small flock of green parrots.

It's a quiet area. Reminds me of visiting my grandma in El Paso: location, landscape, heat, and quality of light.

This was the first hotel I stayed in that was staffed 24 hours.  Also, had a restaurant (where I forced myself to get up and go eat at around 10:30 last night), offered laundry service, room service, especially if you are feeling sick, and had taxis waiting outside 24/7.  Also, pretty wide clientele, now that I'm off the Camino circuit (though plenty of peregrinos, too. My cab driver to the airport asked me about it, since I had a backpack.) I think it was less expensive than where I stayed in Santiago.  That was nice enough, though the bathroom wasn't particularly clean. It was a good location, mix of hotels and locals, just outside the historic area.

The room was remarkably cold. Outside the temp said 45, but that was in the direct sun, I think it was only high 90's...arrive and leave in a heatwave. 

Planes, trains, and automobiles

 I arrived in Santiago on July 1.  Somehow had conveniently booked a hotel near the new bus terminal, so leaving was easy enough. Never did make it to visit St James, though did walk through door of pardon (only open in Holy Years.) Everytime I tried to go there was a Mass in session, or yesterday, there was an ordination, and I didn't make it back.  Had spent far too much of my midday looking for someplace to eat, finally ended up at the Parador cafe, which is outside and not as expensive as the restaurant itself, plus there were tables available.  And then I wanted to take a nap before the 10-hour bus ride, plus repack.

I arrived at the airport before 7 this morning. My flight is at 6 am tomorrow. When I booked the hotel, I still thought I'd need to get a COVID test before flying home, but at any rate I had 5 hours to wait before I could check in.  Working up the courage to figure out how to hail a cab. Have never done it. There is a bus, but I don't know which stop to get off at.  Apparently I could walk, too, but I have no idea which way to go, and it's hot again.

7 days to go

Fonfria Dining Hall, Summer 2022

Fonfria, Galicia.  June 25.  I suppose with elevation gain I walked 30 kms today, the last six with grim determination; my feet were killing me.  Also, in the past week we've gone from heat stroke conditions to hypothermia conditions, granted we crossed a mountain today, but definitely cold. Well at least while the rain fell, and then the sun would come back up and steam would rise up off the asphalt and the rain gear would feel like overkill.

Sunday, June 26.  In the morning it's 1degree Celsius. Granted, it is around 4,000 ft.  I stopped in the next village for a coffee to warm my hands.  I'm not sure how to properly pack for temp swings between 104 and 33 degrees, but I'm wearing most of my clothing this morning. Because of where I stopped last night I'll have to walk almost 30 kms today. I lay awake anxious, thinking of my options. 1) Take a bus down mountain and walk from there (steep descent); 2) Walk as much as I can find some way to get to albergue, even if I have to call a cab; 3) Send pack using transport.  In the end I chose option 3. I woke up early enough, but by time I got around to looking at bus schedule, I'd already missed early one, 6:15 am. Next was at 10 am, which was too long to wait.  The thing about transport is you have to know ahead of time where you will stay, and you have to get there. It loses spontaneity, but does force you to proceed.  I did make it to Sarria, many of the shorter options not open.

Biduedo to Triacastela, Summer 2022

(Written on July 4, after the fact) I ended up shipping my bag 3 days in a row, and when I carried it again, more than 30 kms, and missed my place and had to do an extra couple kms to get back to it, I'm not sure my feet felt a huge amount of difference with or without, though some of the descents were dicey with the weight.

And on that note, the elevation maps are a bit misleading on the last five days, there is so little flat walking, going uphill is easy in sore feet, the downs are the hard part, which seem true given all the bloody knees from slipping, and dead toenails. Savor the flat and the dirt paths.

And also on that note, some of the paths really should be retired, or at least given more of a sense of how bad they are (official route down to bridge in Portomarin, basically a narrow chute of steep rock, which I only made down because a man suddenly appeared behind me and grabbed my arm to guide me down, basically, adding stability.  And that was without a pack.) I did make it across bridge without a panic attack. I focused on the woman's bag in front of me until she stopped mid-bridge. And it's easier on the left side for some reason. I was thinking I might have to ask for help, luckily I wasn't alone this time.

The other treacherous descent is the official route out of Melide.  The C Complimentario being a better option.