Day 26.2

Fonfría del Camino to Samos: 21 Kilometres

We could see the small town of Triacastela from the top of the hill. I loved every turn of the trail; we passed through such beauty in the valleys and small enchanting villages. There were purple flowers on the side of the road, snails on the pathway, cattle behind fences next to the track, and a range of striking trees lining the path. We stamped our credentials at every stop. I loved the stamps; they reminded me of my childhood years at school when I would need to earn my stamps. Triacastela was the starting point for medieval pilgrims. Pilgrims allegedly carried pieces of limestone from the quarries to collaborate in Santiago's construction.

We ate a lot of junk food on that day. When did we even stop? Hehe. We paused for our usual coffee stop in Triacastela. There were two routes on the bank of the Oribio River, just outside of the village. We opted for the left-hand path; it took us to Samos in about ten kilometres. We passed through lush riverside forests with oak and chestnuts trees. Fortunately, my hay fever symptoms diminished. The woods were enchanted; I stood still for a moment; it was a problematic feeling of bliss, of psychological therapy. I never knew what I missed in life, not walking through nature. Fuck OCD! How stupid was I? The whispers sound I heard were miraculous; I was alive; I was receiving God’s love and his blessing. How lucky was I to witness all the unspoiled nature along the Camino?

Wilma and I stopped at a big café for a delicious lunch in the village of San Cristobo. Many pilgrims also stopped there due to a sudden torrential downpour. The sun battled to stay on the horizon. We waited for the weather to clear while chatting with fellow pilgrims for over an hour and a half. We decided to move when the rain died down for a bit. Our raincoats were on again. We crossed the bridge over the Río Oríbio once more and then walked into San Martino's village. Click-clack with our sticks. As we approached Samos, there was an overlook, where we were treated to a great view of the monastery. We followed the muddy pathway downhill. I did not mind the mud at this point because we were nearly at our destination. We stopped at a supermarket for all the necessary snacks for the following day near the bridge into Samos. The kind old owner of the supermarket struck me as a good man.

Of course, we became lost in the town. We stuck out in our matching blue and orange raincoats. We passed the bridge but turned left, then continued for two kilometres instead of turning to our Albergue. Eventually, we realized our mistake when we reached signs to exit Samos. Of course, we blamed each other for being reckless and ignorant. Thank God we were still friends. So far, so good. We backtracked, huffed and puffed, and swore. It would not work if we did not use the “F” word.

I noticed a pilgrimage statue with the pilgrimage route map beneath it, a short distance from the monastery. There were several occurrences of the “Viera” (the clamshell that symbolizes the Santiago pilgrimage). It was a recurrent symbol throughout our journey. One example was the clam shell’s inclusion in the design of the cast-iron fence enclosing the impressive Monasterio de San Julián de Samos. I stopped to take a few photos.

Wilma was eager to arrive at the Albergue. I did not visit the monastery; my energy was depleted. I said a prayer while we walked past it. No ifs and or buts about it; we were the last to arrive for the evening. Albaroque Albergue was extremely crowded with people. Pilgrims gathered in a bar with a large TV screen on the first floor. It was deafening, like being in a club. Wilma and I shared a room with two single beds. The room boasted a view of the mountains and the monastery. My bed cover stank to high heaven of vomit and wee, so Wilma discarded it to an empty room adjacent to the washing machine and tumble dryer. Patience, I thought to myself! My tooth crown fell again. I decided not to glue it at all this time but rather to stay without it. I placed it in a safe place in my backpack.

I smiled with caution now; at least the crown was towards the back of my mouth. We opted to go downstairs for supper. This was the first time I tasted the pulpo, the traditional Spanish Galician dish. Wilma had vegetable lamb soup that stank so bad that she nearly puked. I hated the pulpo! No one believed me when I explained that I would not like it. The best local treat was the Galician tart. Wilma and I each enjoyed two slices. We watched people leave and return to the Albergue; it was quite interesting to think about how Wilma and I travelled differently, but we both had a lot of fun. Time flew by. We looked at our watch and realized it was already 8 p.m. We walked up to the bedroom to hibernate; it was cold and wet outside.

This was another sleepless night for me, this time with no cover. I froze even though I wore two pairs of thick socks, a fleece top, jacket, and scarf. I was pleased that at least I did my washing. I thought, well, that’s my luck. Zip it, Gino; it shall pass. It brought back memories from my Bikram Yoga training, where we had many sleepless nights. Our instructor would often tell us: “Who needs sleep? When you die, you are going to sleep for a long time.” These thoughts at least gave me some hope. My brown eyes were wide open, my eyelids were heavy, but my fucking thoughts were more substantial than ever. My mind was buzzing with every random thought in the universe, and erratically the ideas reached a standstill. At the spur of the moment, my brain shut down. I felt like an owl as I observed Wilma, who was sound asleep. I became more aware of the silence until Wilma treated me to a snoring symphony. This was the first time her symphony did not annoy me because, at that moment, I realized how alone I was.

Faint whiffs of the awful-smelling bed cover continued throughout the night, even though it was discarded. The walls next to my bed were also filthy; there were hand stains all over it. Why was I born obsessive-compulsive? It made my life hard at times. Therefore, I needed to stop complaining and blaming other people for what they have done to me or haven’t done to me. I learned that the only thing I could count on was unexpected. At least, I could say thank you for the Wi-Fi connection. I gave up, ate chocolate at 3 a.m. Darling, 3 a.m., came to know all my secrets. It became my BFF. I loved the time to myself while I recapped my day. Well… Fuck sleep! Once more, no goodnight, good morning!

The highlight of Day 26: Have patience with all things, but, first of all, with yourself. — San Francis De Sales