17.06.2011 - 17.06.2011
Gently the path climbs up and down little hills to Triacastella and I look down over a chequered blanket of green hills and I feel like a bird flying for almost the whole day. It's cold and windy up here, but it's not raining. It can be a really rainy part of the Camino though, so it's a good idea to have thin waterproofs and something to cover your pack.
I arrive at my destination and lounge in a pocket of afternoon sunshine and finish the Graham Green book I found in San Anton. There is an excellent quote towards the end, “hatred is just a lack of creativity.” I watch the pellegrinos arrive in Triacastella, so many different types of people from so many different places. One French man, who is so hot in the Spanish Sun, has decided to take his trousers off and hike in his underwear. (But, he is still wearing his shirt... this is so French.)
I make some new friends who tell me my English is very good;
“I'm from Australia” I say,
“Yes, but you speak good English”
“It's my first language”
“Really? I thought they spoke French in Australia.”
Tonight I am hungry, and I manage to have missed the supermercado which is now cerrado and when I get back to the albergue I must look hungry because an Italian stops me and mimes eating with his hands, and asks me in Spanish if I'm hungry. “Si, pochito!” I respond, hoping there will be a little bit left over from somebody's dinner. Instead, the Italian has set a place for me at a table and within seconds has started to cook. He pulls out a chair, pours me some wine, and cooks – you guessed it, pasta, amazing pasta! I really can't imagine the Camino without Italians. He wont let me help, I'm not even allowed to do the dishes. He explains with a mixture of English, Spanish and Italian that he is a chef in Madrid and that he loves to cook for people.