Last Wednesday--can´t believe it´s been that long--we crossed O´Cebreiro, the little town on the top of a beautiful mountain with a breath-taking, jaw-dropping view of other mountains, towns, roads, and clouds. I like this spot more than Santiago. We toured for an hour, ate some cake, drank some cafe con leche, and started down the mountain.
Today, spending the night in Arzua. It is not charming. Grace and I are happy the whole of Spain isn´t charming. We didn´t want to go home with a big inferiority complex.
We have entered the Galician region, land of cows. When we don´t see them, we see or smell evidence of them. There is something sweet and calm about them, and twice we have shared the path with them for a short time. Ban CAFOs.
This morning the albergue served breakfast, and one of the other pilgrims gave Grace a little birthday candle to put on my toast. He lit it with his lighter, everyone sang, and I blew out the candle. It was one of those candles that keep lighting back up. Funny that he happened to have a candle in his pack. I don´t even know his name. Apparently, he overheard me say it was my birthday.
Later today, on the path, I met a woman originally from Spain but now from California. It was her birthday too. Happy Birthday to us.
One of these days I´ll decide whether to write about this strange experience of staying in albergues. Can´t imagine doing it in the U.S., but in this context, it´s okay. Sometimes, much better than okay.
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