Day 22- to Porriño

German father and son left before 7. We got up at 8. Spaniards soon after. Bum Knee was still snoring when we went down for breakfast, to finally finish the cereal I'd carried since Porto. By the time we went back upstairs, everyone was gone. We left at 9:15, one of earliest starts but it wasn't early enough for me. With the time difference, it was 10:15 in Spain and we were already a little late.

It was a very foggy morning. It's fortunate that JH and I walked around last night because everything is hidden and we are disoriented. The fortress is just shapes, the trees are boney fingers snatching away our sense of place and time.

Even in the fog, JH found a shop and asked, "Should we buy an umbrella?"

I said, "no", knowing immediately that it was the wrong answer, delivered too quickly.

"You always say no", she huffed, forgetting that I'd been very helpful and supportive buying a tablecloth that I have to carry for the rest of the trip, "we neec one. Why don't you want to buy an umbrella?"

This was just the latest in a series of umbrella skirmishes. I love walking arm in arm with JH but she is impossible to share an umbrella with. I hold it too high or too low. Or the angle is wrong and rain hits her cheek. Or if the wind shifts, I'm not quick enough readjusting. It's not pleasant. The problems are reversed if she carriers it. So, she was correct that we needed one to replace the one Gyueon wrecked.

My reasons for saying no and what I said are very different. I just didn't think this was the best time to buy one. In my mind, we were behind schedule and we hadn't even gotten going yet. And I know that JH is incapable of quickly buying something. At groceries stores, the time she takes considering which orange juice to buy is greater than the time it takes to grow an orange tree and make juice from the harvest, adding more choices and taking even more time. Time calls a time out when she shops.

In my mind, this quick umbrella purchase has already played out. She'll look at all of them on display, even the golf umbrellas with Playboy logos, and ask if there are anymore. Of course, there are more. She'll select 5 or 6 that all look the same to me and ask, "which one do you like?"

"Blue."

"Which blue?"

"Um, dark blue."

"Really? The brown is nice."

"Ok. Brown!" I say, too enthusiastically.

"Hmm. The plaid one is nice, too."

"Any one is fine. It doesn't matter much."

"Alright, purple plaid."

I don't want purple plaid but I'm happy that a decision has been made. This went faster than I thought. Then she'll check it and find a minor defect. The whole process starts again.

Finally, a final decision. A pink umbrella. I don't point out that we already have a pink umbrella because I can't suddenly care now.

Price is given. Money comes out. Free!

"Say, you wouldn't happen to have this in a compact size, would you?"

I swallow the big golf umbrella and open it. Free at last!

What did I say instead just calmly explaining that we'd have time later?

"I don't know."

A very bad answer. So bad, it wasn't even wrong.

We spent our last final 10 minutes in Portugal in silence. It gave me time to think about how I would go about buying an umbrella. I'd get rained on, run in, buy the first cheap umbrella I saw, pay, run off, and find out that the umbrella leaks. But look at the time I saved!

As a result, I was 20 steps behind her and Gyueon over the bridge to Spain. The fog was all-encompassing. For a minute, I couldn't see either shore. For a 30 seconds, I couldn't see JH or Gyueon.

I wasn't anywhere, going anywhere, coming from anywhere. Time had no meaning. I only had now but what is now without past and future? Holding that thought gave me a past. At that moment the fog shifted a little and I could see JH and Gyueon. I took a picture to preserve the moment and to look at it in some future time. Back to reality.

Photos.

1 in front of the albergue

2 the Fortress in fog.

3 crossing over to the other side.

Day 21, Valença

7:45am. Complimentary breakfast at 8. Oh look, it's raining. And the dog is barking. It was not a restful sleep. What the hotel lacked in heat and extra blankets, it made up for with cold.

And stinginess. This is the first time on this trip that I am angry. Breakfast was 2 pieces of bread with jam or butter, instant coffee or hot chocolate. There was a selection of tea available but mi amigo warned me that we'd have to pay for that. I laughed, assuming he was joking and reached for a packet. His face and empty cup told me he was not joking.

Remember the groceries? The proprietor refused to boil the eggs for us or let us do it. She, however, gladly accepted them as a gift.

We left, flying down the course. We were sick of Portugal, its cold and damp accommodations, its bland food, and the rain. We were going to run to Spain. Adios, Portugal!

Motivated and united, we overcame every flooded farmroad easily even with the raised level of difficulty. Previously, we'd had to navigate narrow stonewall lined flooded roads, but now the stonewalls were topped with thieving thorn bushes. After our fourth gauntlet, the most difficult yet, we congratulated ourselves on making it through dry and with minimal mud and cuts. I took a picture.

"Hey, what's that orange thing hanging there?"

Gyueon's rain cover. The thieving thorns also took his gloves. I dropped my pack and retrieved the stolen goods.

We stopped for lunch and found the Spaniards relaxing at the next table with espresso and little shots of Port. We chatted a little. Amigo convinced us to stay in Valenca because it's "very bueno" and a nicer city than Tuy. He swore that the albergue was excellent. Ok, one more chance, Portugal.

The diner gave off a great comfortable vibe when we got there. The manager, a large woman with a large personality who seems to think that anything worth saying is worth saying loud, patiently helped us order and made a couple good recommendations.

The Spaniards left. All of the other patrons left and we were the only ones left. The manager got into a long argument on the phone, so long and so intense that I was afraid to mention that she'd forgotten my soup. We split during an apparent cease fire.

Today I saw at least 10 crucifixes, staring at me. As the story goes, thorn-crowned Jesus died for our sins. His cause was noble. Why are we doing this walk though? I'm not a believer. What are we suffering for? Why are we putting up with pricks from thorns? The future of humankind does not depend on us.

The story continues: he died and miraculously, was resurrected. I don't believe in miracles either, unless it involves pancakes, light and fluffy, in a talk stack.

We spotted two people sitting outside the albergue. Uh-oh. Another albergue problem. Again? We greeted them, a father and son from Germany. They pointed to the notice and said the albergue will open at 4. "No problem," we said, "it's 3:35". JH and decided that if nobody came by 4:30, we burn the place down and walk to Tuy.

The Spaniards showed up from the other direction. They explained that they walked around rather than waiting. At 4:05, the Germans and the Korean Coalition were impatient. Amigo said, "Latins always late-- it's ok. Maybe they come late. It's ok."

The German son said, "in Germany this would have been open 6 hours ago."

Amigo made a couple calls. "No problem. The volunteer had a crisis. She will come in 30 minutes."

We were pretty sure that meant an hour but just knowing that made us happy. We were right. An hour later, a very nice woman came, apologizing.

The place was worth the wait. Clean, warm, spacious, comfortable, with a good kitchen. We bought groceries (too much milk and juice, I thought) and came back to see another German man had arrived. He claimed to have already seen me twice and spoken to me once but couldn't be more specific than "2 or 3 days ago". I may have seen him at Antonio's-- I recall seeing a person sitting in the corner but we never made eye contact, let alone spoke. There is no way we spoke. This conversation, based on nothing, went nowhere.

JH and I wanted to take a walk around the city but Gyueon really wanted to stay and have some alone time with wifi. He almost came with us because he was afraid if he stayed, horror of horrors!, someone would try to talk to him. He stayed, curled up in his sleeping bag in his bunk in the far corner.

Valença, a city of 14,000, is developed around the huge fortress Fortaleza, protecting the city from atop the hill. The walls of the fortress are rounder than other fortresses I've seen, blending in with the land. Quaint shops and restaurants are squeezed on alongside modern shops and cafes, in a perfect mix of ancient and current. JH's pink umbrella was the only color we saw besides the grey walls and sky.

Most places were closed, presumably because of the season, but we went in a few. JH bought a tablecloth that will remind us of Portugal. We've gotten over our hate on Portugal, I'm glad we stayed one final night.

Back at the albergue. For dinner we finished off the ramen (very crumbly) and supplemented with other veggies. Upstairs, in the dorms, everyone was showering and getting ready for bed. Our Spanish friend (who JH and I have been referring to as Fernando) serenaded everyone from his shower with Spanish love songs in a nice tenor voice. He takes even longer showers than Gyueon.

Everyone is going 24 km to Mos tomorrow but the lone German twisted his knee badly today and may be finished. We are walking 19.3 to Porriño. We probably won't see these peregrinos again.

Day 20, to Rubiaes part 2

The small talk was over quickly and conversation turned to the terrible condition of the albergue. "This is crisis", as our new amigo put it, "very dirty. No breathe."

His friend easily opened the door that we had all tried, opening our eyes to new levels of dirt in the main sleeping quarters. Lines of dust covered bunk beds with moldy blankets neatly folded and a funky smell. They had already decided not to stay there. Mr Chatty whipped out his mobile phone and made a few calls. Neither of the numbers associated with place answered so he called a nearby inn and reserved two rooms-- one for he and his friend and one for us. In the dark, we backtracked 1.5 km to a place we'd passed hours before.

It was a nice place and we were relieved. They arranged for a local restaurant to transport us to and from dinner. That's how bad the economy is. The driver came, waited on us, and drove us back.

Today was the first time that my positive spirit has flagged. Why is it so difficult to find accommodations? I know we are off season but so far only 2 out of 7 albergues have been available, and since they are privately operated, they don't really count.

We lay in bed trying to relax by reading ebooks. A fly buzzed by, trying to land on the screens, alternating between JH and me. A fly!?! It was unswattable and shooing it away was useless, the screens were too tempting. Phones off, eyes closed, we tried to sleep. A dog barked. And barked. And barked.

We agreed that, instead of staying at Valenca, we would walk the extra 4 km tomorrow to Tuy, Spain so we would not have to spend another night in Portugal. No more scrambling for accommodations! no more dogs barking! No more rice with french fries! I immediately felt relaxed enough to sleep. It was 8:45.

Day 20, to Rubiaes

I woke up at 5:26 to the sound of nothing. No rain. I stayed in bed not wanting to draw back the curtain, roll up the blinds and look out the window just to see silent rain falling. An hour later, I got up to see. Blue sky! Blind Melon's "No Rain" looped non-stop in my head along with visions of the Bee Girl. I didn't bother Gyueon or JH. She was sleeping well.

She woke up at 8. I opened the curtain. She smiled. Assuming we were staying another day did her to recover, I didn't mention walking.

She got up and announcing that we were leaving so, "get ready."

At breakfast, 2 peregrinos walked by, the first we'd seen since the Brazilians. I wondered if we would meet them tonight at the albergue in Rubiaes.

We confidently packed our rain gear away and crossed the bridge that gave this town its name. With my raincoat off, I can hold my head up and actually see things. The town is unrecognizable in sunlight and I feel a little disappointed that we are leaving. Just a little.

I started thinking about "No Rain" and realized that it wasn't appropriate at all. Just the first line disqualifies it, "All is can say is that my life is pretty plain-- I like watching the puddles gather rain."

My life is far from plain. I'm walking from Lisbon to Santiago de Compostella, fer crying out loud. Secondly, I do not like puddles nor do I like watching them gather rain. It's just another obstacle.

Suddenly another song blasted into my head. It made such an exuberant entrance that it didn't even notice that it knocked "No Rain" right off the stage and into a puddle that had gathered a lot of rain. "All I can say is blub blub…"

It twirled, out stretching its arms in love and sunshine, not noticing that it knocked Bee Girl into the drink as well. And the song started, "I can see clearly now, the rain has gone…"

We were feeling good. Finally this was going to be an easy drama-free day. We can overcome any obstacles in our way.

As you know, this is the camino, and, if you've been following my story, there are no easy days. Within 15 minutes we could already see our first obstacle and there was no way around the knee-deep water in the road. We looked right and left. Considered going through. Ahead, up on a hill, we saw the peregrinos from breakfast. We called out, "how?"

They signaled to turn around and follow the road. I was still humming "I can see clearly" but I had a feeling "no rain" was crawling out of the puddle. We followed the road, trying to go east as soon as possible to find the camino again. We were still in a collective good mood and had fun 'recalculating' in our best huffy car GPS voices. We passed the hill that the others had been on. Obviously, they had not gone around and they had looked dry. How did they get across?

Back on course! 25 minutes later under a highway, we saw another obstacle in our way in the form of another impassable flooded road. I looked for a 'partially collapsed bridge' that the guide book said was directly east. Nothing but a river bursting over its banks. If there was a bridge in there, I couldn't see it.

Immediately JH wanted to backtrack. I hate backtracking. We'd already done it once and I wanted to explore other options first. Besides, it was 15 minutes back to the previous road.

I looked west and saw nothing obvious. We considered balancing on top of the stone fence posts and jumping like cats all the way. After 5 posts, I knew it was impossible.

I checked west again and found two options. One down a wooded path, the other on a gravel road parallel to the highway. I was sure the first one would work out but got outvoted. We went west for a long long time. Finally we cut north on an asphalt road, then east. Just as we were starting to doubt the whole thing, we found a yellow arrow. Until lunch, we stayed on asphalt, replacing the yellow arrows of the camino with the yellow lines of the road. After lunch, there were no alternatives.

At lunch, JH barely ate. How can she even walk today?

The trail was spectacular after lunch, that's how. It was up and over a wing of a mountain. Today felt like hiking-- a real trek. Not only did we have a view from the top, it was gorgeous.

We reached our destination, Albergue Escola which I've secretly renamed Albergue Shithole-a because it's a filthy place, unsuitable for humans. JH knew immediately but she's the girl who cried wolf so I didn't really agree. At first.

The light was on so we went in. Nobody was around so we investigated. Kitchen equipped with stove, fridge, pots, pans, and dishes? Dirty, but yes.

Beds and blankets? Yes and no.
Heater? No
Bathroom and shower? Yes but locked.

It was a huge building but we could only get into the dirty kitchen, abandoned reception area, filthy lounge, and dusty dorm on the second floor. The other wing, presumably where the showers and bathrooms were was locked. We each tried the door several times.

Still feeling confident, we walked 500 m down the road to a restaurant to get a key that the guidebook says it has. A man gave us a key and said someone will come in one hour. Feeling even more confident, we bought groceries, took them back and waited. And waited. Over two hours. It was cold and we started noticing that the place wasn't just dirty-- it wax filthy and there was mold everywhere. In the fridge was a plate of uncovered cooked rice, rotting. This is not good.

The peregrinos from the morning appeared. We introduced ourselves. They are from Spain. Fernando, the younger one speaks 5 languages but English is his weakest. His friend, only Spanish. No problema.

Day 19, Ponte de Lima, 0 km

Do I even need to write that it rained? And it was still raining? And it was going to rain? JH feels even worse, like food poisoning without the relief of vomiting and/or diarrhea. The medicine she bought yesterday seems ineffective.

We went out for a very breakfast and tried to do some sight-seeing but the rain was too much even for us. We scurried back to the room like cats afraid to get wet. We stayed inside all day, tending to drying clothes, napping, reading, basically nothing. I was bored.

Finally hunger forced us to leave and find dinner. JH didn't want to come but she'd only eaten a couple pieces of bread and some soup in the last few days.

I don't know why dinner I'd always such a production. My usual rule applied: closest and cheapest. I appreciate fine meals but hate running around looking at a million places. That's what we did because the sick person who wasn't going to eat anything dragged us all over town to look at identical menus and prices. Finally, we walked into one across from last night's.

I ordered the equivalent of fish and chips. Gyueon ordered "barbecued pork, with potatoes and plain rice". JH ordered plain rice. The English speaking waiter left, presumably to his home.

The owner served my order and it looked good. Then an order of plain rice. Then an order of blood rice. We refused it, insisting on plain rice. She took it away. Then the pork came. A pile of it, mixed with blood pudding and stuffed intestines. Uh-oh.

For the next five minutes we tried to explain that we did not order the local delicacy. The owner pointed to each item then to the menu. "Si. Si. Si. Es certo."
Then we realized the mistake-- the Portuguese and English on the menu didn't match. We spent five more minutes trying to explain that. She gave up, made a phone call and the waiter came back.

Eventually we got the correct order but dinner was ruined. We scurried back to our room and I was wondering when we'd be leaving Ponte de Lima.

Day 18, Oh, hail no!

The downpour during breakfast slowed down to just a drizzle when Jacinto dropped us off. JH looked longingly at the car as it drove off.

The great course continued. As beautiful as it is in winter, I can't imagine how it is in non-crappy-weather seasons.

Then we got pelted by rain. Wait, this isn't rain. Hail! Why? It came down, bouncing off our coats and packs, usually getting redirected to our faces. We didn't like it but JH, in a rare moment of glass-fullness, said that it was better than rain. Then Gyueon pointed to some not so distant hills, "and snow". We decided we liked the hail. It passed. Later, we got more, in bigger chunks that packed a bit of a punch. It stopped and so did the rain.

In spite of all the rain, hail, mud, and flooded paths our feet were still dry. JH was feeling even worse but I didn't realize just how bad until now. So far we'd survived: mud, rain, flooding, barking dogs, non-existent accommodations, a very cold night, an alien invasion, an ant invasion, hail, and now a zombie outbreak. JH had joined the ranks of the walking dead.

She asked about accommodations. Sticking to the original plan, and forgetting an earlier discussion, I read the list of choices, insensitively emphasizing the cheap (and probably least comfortable for a sick person) places: a youth hostel, an albergue, then pensaos.

"What about hotels?"
"There's one but it's expensive."
"How much?"
"50", I winced saying it, knowing I'd made a mistake.

She cried. "You don't think I'm worth anything."

I felt worthless. I know we're trying to stick to a budget but really, I was concerned that 50 was too much?

I apologized. All was well. We were going to be warm and comfortable. JH was going to recuperate on our scheduled off-day tomorrow. We enjoyed blue skies for 45 minutes and stopped for a snack.

JH perked up a bit as we got close to Ponte de Lima. We spotted a sign for the Youth Hostel. JH said, "the hotel is across from the hostel. Let's check out the hostel first. Maybe it will be ok."

We followed the sign that took us off course. We found the building but something was wrong. The sign said something else, something about rehabilitation center. That's odd. We asked. It wasn't a youth hostel anymore. She pointed towards town and said a word that made JH wince, "albergue". We did not see the hotel. Looks like that's changed too, into a "screw you guys" center.

Then the skies opened up. Within 10 minutes, we were drenched. The long rain coats had too many holes and were more effective as hooded capes. Even my impermeable coat was breached. It was raining so hard that we couldn't see to cross the streets safely. Did it anyway. Screw you guys!

I couldn't find the pension above the pizza shop. Actually, I couldn't find the pizza shop, if you must know. JH took over the navigating and it turns out that I still can't read simple English.

We found the shop but there was no indication that the upper floors were a pension. We went to the tourist office for HELP!

We mentioned that the youth hostel is closed. They didn't know, made a call, and told us that the youth hostel is closed. Yes, got that, obrigado.

We asked about the pizza shop pension. One woman made a face and said," not good". She recommended 2 places, we took the first one, Sao Joao Pensao, nearby, not feeling confident about the quality.

The woman who runs it was very nice and set us up in a clean cozy room. She brought up towels (yeah!), a space heater, and a clothes rack to set up over it. But wait, there's more! Free wifi! Even better, she did our laundry. She only accepted 70 for two nights.

We had very good pizza for lunch, you know where. JH asked the waiter about rooms for rent. She didn't say it directly but, reading between the lines, those rooms aren't for overnight travelers, I think. We had a very nice room anyway.

Back at the Pensao, we showered and hung the clothes strategically on the rack and around the room. It was raining hard and we didn't want to go out.

But soon Gyueon and I were hungry. Reluctantly JH came with us. After looking at a million restaurants, we finally went to one we'd looked at twice already. I tried a local delicacy, blood sausage and blood rice. I at almost all of it. Now that I've tried it, I never have to eat it again. Gyueon probably had pork. JH just had soup and could barely eat it. It felt like our coldest night yet. We shivered our way back to the pensao and tended to the clothes drying.

Day 18, Ponte de Lima, 13km

I was awakened several times during the night by violent thunderstorms blasting through. I was starting to take the rain personally. It seemed every drop that fell was trying to bite and claw its way through the roof and windows and tear me apart.

We were supposed to go into the house at 8 for breakfast. I was up and ready yo go at 7:20. The others had barely stirred. JH started barking orders at Gyueon, "get up. Put on your socks. No clean socks. Hurry. Watch what you're going. Do this! Do that!" driving him crazy although he didn't show it. I think he was afraid to show annoyance. I think his instincts, for a change, were correct. She snapped a pointless order to make the bed. I was as annoyed as Gyueon. "It's 7:45 you're nowhere near ready, breakfast is in 15 minutes, and you're concerned with a bed that doesn't need making?", I said (in my head).

Finally, at 7:45, she got up… to berate gyueon's poor bed making and to take over the operation. I didn't dare say anything. I have good instincts, and I wasn't even on her radar.

We made it at 8:15. Well, she did. I was there at 8:05. It's obvious that JH is feeling much worse but it's not a cold. Seems like good poisoning or something like it that leaves the sufferer able to be a jerk.

As we were packing, Jacinto was hanging laundry out to dry in the drizzling rain. This country is full of delusional optimists. It's never ever going to be sunny or dry. Never! I will buy you a dryer, just please stop acting like the sun shines. Yeah, I forgot about yesterday.

He gave us a ride to where we'd left off yesterday. He wished us "Bom caminho". I half expected "Merry Christmas".