Saturday, May 21, Camino Day 10: Pontevedra to Caldas de Reis

Saturday, May 21, Camino Day 10: Pontevedra to Caldas de Reis

Miles per garmin: 13.8 here along with maps and splits. Fitbit Information per screen shot:

Dinner last night at the Paradores was a classic Deb and Dave experience. The restaurante ("Down and to the right") was so utterly deserted – though set up for a banquet – that we went to the bar next door to ask the hundred-year-old lady there what was up. She gave us the Spanish version of "Dinner? You’re shitting me, right?" Uh, no. Turns out that, though we’d been told that the dinner service started at 8:30, the entire room had been reserved for a High School Graduation dinner at 9:30. Accordingly, staff wasn’t to arrive until 9:00. Uh, the young and smug guy at the front desk got things going: i.e., he told the old lady to make it work, which she did, setting up a table intended as a busboy’s staging area into our Hotel Paradores Dining Experience. Scout has a photo or two of Dave, the only person present, seated in a room set for 95. We ate as fast as we could and got the hell out.

As a nice coda to the dinner experience, the new Grads didn’t start showing up until 10:30 and kept up a racket until well after midnight. Our room, you see, overlooked the street in front. Heh, heh. Yeah, we got the loudest room in the house…again.

After our fifth, tenth, or whatever, fitful night, we arose late to a very good breakfast buffet, with quiche, juice, lots of good coffee and – it is only fair to reveal – hot dogs. European sausage, with blood clots and chunks of snout, is a lot more disgusting to look at than the American version (though probably no more or less unsafe to eat), but, as a tourist with an unrefined palate, one had to taste, right? Yeah. It looked like a hot dog and it was one.

Thus fortified, we embark on another fine day of countryside walking. Rain is predicted for the afternoon, but, as of 16:00, has not arrived. (For those of you who were lit majors and had, thus, given up on any hope of success in the real world, 16:00 may remind you of George Orwell in "1984," when the clocks struck 13. For the rest of you, this is yet another pointless digression. So, Europe is on a 24 hour clock cycle, though, if a tourist says "You mean 7:30 pm," locals will nod and say patiently, as if to a child: "Yes. 19:30."

Our day, starting in the very restaurante where we were yesterday a nuisance, has been a good one. The footing, terrain, and walking have been fine: lots of countryside and wild flowers (Queen Anne’s lace? Mustard? Columbine?). And, following yesterday’s relative traffic jam, we are joined by more and more walkers, some from before and some new. After having said we encountered no Asians, we see lots, both from Japan and from Texas. We chat a little ("Gee, that World War II was a bummer") and move on.

We encounter no problems until Scout, in attempting to cross the road, was struck by a semi and thrown into a vineyard, scraping skin off her palm and opening a bloody gash about the size of a pea on her leg. Huh? Sorry, just meant to sex up an otherwise modest incident. She was stepping over a highway safety rail when – oops! - down she went. Dave was close by, but too slow to prevent the tumble. He did snicker some, which probably helped speed the healing. (What were you doing?) As might be expected of veteran Caminars, we had See’s suckers and diarrhea pills, but no bandaids. Maybe next year Scout will travel with a better-prepared – and more empathetic – companion.

We reach the idyllic village of Caldas de Reis (named after something relating to rice) for a Pilgrim’s Lunch (salad, chicken and fries). The chow is okay, with a full bottle of wine, although, halfway through the meal, staff place a partition between us and the rest of the establishment. Jeez. Turns out, a back room wedding banquet was scheduled and guests were guided through so they wouldn’t dawdle with us walk-in customers. As with all such occasions, checking out the clothing people chose to wear for a "special" day was both amusing and sad. Many men in suits and black Nikes, the women in impossibly high heels and dresses that, for the full-figured gal, seemed, well…wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. The bride – typically – seemed happy; the groom seemed baffled.

Lunch concluded, we taxi (in a Mercedes, no less) to Torre de Rio, the highest rated (9.7) stop on our Camino. This is a place where, not only do they have toothbrushes and paste in the bathroom, but also big, fluffy towels embroidered with TDR, and bathrobes on the bed. There are yummy chocolates in the room and a hand-written note of welcome. Our room overlooks the kind of rushing stream that lulls one to sleep. And dinner? When would we like it to be? Gee, it’s been so long since we had a choice. It’s only 17:00 and dinner is yet to occur, but we already know we don’t want to leave. (Oh. A bottle of wine @ $15 and well worth it, came with quiche and bread.) Mommy! Don’t make us go back out there!

Mileage: 13.8. Caminars passed 48. Caminars who passed us: 4 (one impertinent fellow passed us twice!) We are now about 26 miles from Santiago. The last few days, despite the usual number of mishaps, have been the best we’ve had on this Camino, much better than the mean streets of Porto.

A few more photos from today....and...the rain has finally made its appearance. It may be soggy tomorrow.

A few Camino signs and a little extra

Only 50K until Santiago

A sample of some cuisine including squid:

Today's version of lovely trails, paths, and vineyards:

Heading out of town this morning

Of course I had to take a photo of a runner

And, our final stop for the day:

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