Our latest start today, 9am. After last night, pretty good we thought. The back streets and bars of Melide seemed decidedly more peaceful as we ‘felt’ our way from Hostel Pereiro to join the throngs on the Way pouring out of town.
At the top of the hill we pull into the church yard to enjoy views back over the city and a Spanish man, well dressed in polo and dress shorts, close shaved grey moustache and maybe mid seventies, asks if we’d like him to take our photo.
Then he starts talking to us in Spanish all the while grabbing for his crotch. We keep our cool but are genuinely not sure if he’s a pervert or has crabs…or perhaps a pervert with crabs? Who could tell? The more we contort our faces in confusion the more he grabs his crotch. We want it to stop but don’t understand what he’s saying. It’s an agonizing catch 22.
Eventually after further particularly uncomfortable demonstrations, we glean that he also did the Camino but couldn’t finish due to a badly pulled groin muscle, for which his doctor conducted dubious manipulations and prescribed pain killers. We hope. Some things just shouldn’t be mimed.
Just out of Melide we come across Santa Maria church at the meeting of the Caminos Francase and the Camino Primitivo. At the door is a lovely, dedicated Spanish man who’s church caretaker, historian, tour guide, pilgrim passport stamper, biscuit and peanut issues and ringer of the church ‘buen camino’ bell to everyone who departs.
I could have watched him all day. Talking to one group in Spanish while highlighting church artifacts with a laser pointer, he’d be stamping someone’s passport, explaining the stamp, ringing his farewell buen camino bell, all the while eyeing up his next customer and gleaning what language he might use. ‘Biscuit anyone?’ Genius.
This romanesque church dates to the 12th century, has a knights templar baptismal font column, beautiful once hidden murals and a 12th century iron grill. Most exciting to me was the statue of the churches patron saint and virgin Our Lady of Snows, to whom I put in a little request for the next ski season.
A lady walking by the church, stick-tacking at speed, catches our eye and says, ‘Anything good? Gotta a stamp?’ On the wind we fancy we hear St. James, ‘forgive them lord, they know not what they do’.
Not far on we take the alternate route and stop at Casa de Ponte de Penas for coffee. It’s a delightful centuries old home renovated to house and feed pilgrims. They’re happy for us to walk around, pat the German Shepard pup, Luna (and the horse), relax on their veranda in the shade of the Wisteria vines. It was a great find.
Later, equally enjoyable but a great contrast, old mate has a fridge and bar in his shed, repeat plays Hotel California and does a little dance (obviously to his favourite song) ducking back and forth to the house for food. We sit on plastic chairs under a tree with a couple of wines and enjoy the show.
Eventually after more scented eucalyptus forest and picturesque stone villages than a man and woman can handle, we walk up (inevitably) to the sizeable hilltop town of Azura.
Taking a promenade, we avoid Carlos and team in the leafy town square (we need some sleep) and watch the logging trucks file past whilst sipping some local wines at a street side bar. Later we enjoy a really nice pilgrims meal (galacian broth, gazpatcho, chicken, hake and coffees) for a great price, and stroll home (just before 65 twenty something young men stroll in for a group dinner).
A Rua tomorrow then Santiago. It’s forecast to be hot so well be early out again.
