Camino Day 31, Sunday July 5, Palas de Rei to Arzua

Camino Day 31, Sunday July 5, Palas de Rei to Arzua

Numbers: 19.06 miles per Garmin GPS. 44,168 steps, 178 floors, and 364 active minutes per Fitibit.

Dave's voice:

The last long day, with a little extra push so the following – and final – two days will be cupcakes. Up early, walk, walk, walk, and arrive in Arzua, yet another Spanish village that’s surprisingly bustling when compared to it’s modest (population 5,500) size.

We check in at the “paso” another new word for hotel. This one turns out to have been a manor (I.e., rich guy’s) house, circa 1740. The place doesn’t look a day over circa 1815. “Manor” also implies a country estate and there’s lots of open land around us. The actual house is now the dining room, where we’re springing for upscale (to us) eats this evening. The places we and the other guests are staying were probably the original cook shed, laundry, servants quarters, etc. Our room is a pleasant two-bedder with an armoir (chifforobe) and most of the modern stuff. No a/c, but the wealthy folks knew not to have rooms face directly into the setting sun.

From here, it’s a 4€ cab ride to the plaza for a little people watching. Oy. We set up at a corner place across from “Hiper Oriental,” a store we plan to explore until the owner, wife, and baby lock up shop promptly at 2:00 PM. Hey, it’s Sunday! Alas, we have only a bottle of chilled white wine, bread, thin-sliced ham swimming in oil and a year’s supply of cheese to sustain us in our labors. Cheese is a source of local pride. There’s a festival at the end of the cheese harvest. Not sure if being selected Cheese Queen is a good thing or not. In many ways, this is a classic Spanish village with old people wandering aimlessly, except, it being Sunday, they don’t have plastic bags with a couple of mercado purchases in them. Children gather around the church, one of the few open places in town where a ball can be kicked against a building for hours on end. This being Sunday, we see at least one little girl exiting the church with her white Confirmation dress on. Cute. Mom, alas, is dressed as if she just found out the fleet was coming in. Dad seems happy that Mom is still willing to look like a hooker in public. Not sure about the dynamics, but nothing says religious fervor like “fxxk me” pumps and a skin-tight skirt with a slit up the side.

There’s a vehicle illegally parked (well, it’s Sunday, so, technically, it’s Thunderdome) in front of the fine establishment where we drink and eat cheese. Script on the back of the vehicle : Vehiculo de Cortesia, which either means “courtesy car,” in which case it shouldn’t have been illegally parked, or “courtesan car,” in which case, it shouldn’t have been parked there so long. What’s unique is, this is a Skoda, a car made in the Czech Republic (and India, China, and Russia now) and rarely seen this far west in Europe. Spain is lousy with French and German cars with a sprinkling of Japanese, Italian, and Korean cars and even a few Fords, but only one Skoda (the “Fabia” model for those of you who we wondering). Here's a little about the company and car if you're interested.

After an hour or so, we settle up, paying 16€ for the wine and more than enough food for the day. (Last night, in Palas de Rei, we ambled into town for people watching, settling at a table on the plaza and knocking back 2 glasses of a nice white each at a cool 1.80€ each. You can spend more for wine here, but it takes an effort.) Back at the Paso, there’s the usual laundry and blogging on a patio overlooking gentle rolling hills. This place is steep at 93€, which includes breakfast, but it’s relaxed and breezy and staff swings by at regular intervals to see it we want anything. Sure, they’re checking to see if they can sell us more wine (word’s gotten around), but that’s okay. We’re two days from Santiago and, from there, it’s Malaga and topless sunbathing for everyone.

Picture time:

Who knows about sausage fingers? I know my friend, Dianna, does. When some people run or walk long distances or otherwise participate in activities for long periods of time, their fingers swell up. I won't get into the science of it, but here are Dave's fingers swollen and not swollen.

Dave:swollen hands/fingers in top photo and normal at the bottom

Entering A Coruna

Loved this Camino sign in the sidewalk

Kitty ready to,show us the way if we didn't see the sign

Shell AND arrow

50 km to go!

And, 42km to go...because we're marathoners

A Skoda!

Ham and cheese and, yes: wine

The Manor from 1742: our digs for tonight

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