I said ‘goodbye’ to the two Italian girls in the supermarket last night. They pointed out that they had seen me and spoken to me every day since the very first day when they followed me because I ‘seemed so confident’ about which direction I was heading. I wished them both well, they are planning to make it to Santiago the day after I do as one of them (shamefully I don’t know their names) has injured her leg.
My slightly out of the way room was a good choice. The fiesta in Melide kicked off at 10.30pm, eventually winding up at 5am. There were some grumpy pilgrims who had been ‘serenaded’ through the wee small hours. The stage was being packed down and a general clean up was underway as I set out just after 6am. And my early start was rewarded with a couple of relatively quiet hours on the trail. Some bits looked vaguely familiar, others I could have sworn I was seeing for the first time ever.
About 5km in I found Pietro (one of the Italians who was on the Primitivo) outside a coffee bar. He’d had a bad night in Melide (loud music) and JUST WANTED A COFFEE! He couldn’t get his head around the fact the owner was in there, drinking coffee, but refusing to open up the constant stream of caffeine craving potential customers walking past him. I fired up my Buen Camino app. It was only 3km to the next town with a coffee shop. I told him that by the time we got there it would probably be open. Crossing my fingers for myself as much as for Pietro. On we went, Pietro ranting about ‘idiots who don’t want to make money!’ I dropped back a bit, I didn’t feel like spending the next couple of kilometres placating an angry Italian. And what if the next place was closed? Far better to let him discover that himself.
We were in luck. It was open! I had a coffee and a slice of tortilla and wrote a postcard. It was odd to be in a bar and only recognise one other person. I had become very accustomed to our mobile village on the Primitivo, but resigned myself to not seeing my Camino family regularly from now on.
After breakfast the trail got much busier. Big groups, family groups, schools groups! I had a long day, so promised myself second breakfast. About 8km before my destination I stopped at a cafe. It was table service, which is a bit unusual, but the place looked to be doing a roaring treads so I sat down. And waited. And waited. I signalled to the waiter that I was ready to order. And waited. I had a conversation with Paulo, another of the Italian Primitivo pilgrims when he stopped to say hello. And I waited some more. All around me groups were being served and I was being ignored so I picked up my rucksack and left!
I’m now in O Pedrouzo, also known and O Pino. I passsd through here on my last day of the Camino Frances and remember an excellent cafe for breakfast and some great murals. I haven’t found either of those things yet.
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