June 8, 2015
I had not gotten lost even once on this trip and now I have gotten lost four times in the last week. If the final stage of the Camino is supposed to mirror the last stage of life then I must be in the throes of dementia.
Or perhaps I am just distracted by the phenomenal scenery. After the flat unchanging horizon of the Meseta, coming into Galicia with its ups and downs and lush twists and turns is like coming into the Promised Land.
Galicia was settled by the Celts about 2000 BC and out of every pub they blare what sounds like Irish music. This shows their Gaelic roots as well as their reticence to get up from the bar and change the record player for over 4000 years.
It was a long 30 km today with much hill climbing. I think The Flying Dutchman threw up at the end of of it. But I got a chocolate danish and a blessing by a Benedictine monk before 9 AM so life continues to be pretty sweet.