Travelers tip: Blacktop is hard on the feet.

We walked and walked and walked… along freeway mostly, but there were some wonderful moments. Through rows of eucalyptus forest. Past beautiful stone houses with lush gardens, some with some whacky and quirky decorations. Some of my favorite were these animals made from plastic bottles, painted pink and filled with all sorts of colorful flowers. People’s creativity is really mind blowing at times.

But then there was the not so lovely stuff. The hard, black, surface of paved roads. The kind of walking that makes your feet throb through your shoes. The kind of walking that gives you blisters. Gary got his first one. I had too many to count.

The highlight of the day was lunch at an amazing cafe, called la Casa Rico de Medín. The albergue and cafe were in a restored historic stone home that was beyond words. All of it, from the color scheme to the tiles to the countertops were done so beautifully, it almost felt out of place on the Camino. Gary and I plopped ourselves down and ordered cafés and bocadillos… Gary liked his so much he actually had two!

The road continued for the better part of 6 hours. The blacktop made the walking very difficult. By early afternoon we’d reached O’Pino, the place were we’d reserved our beds for the night. We stopped for a café and I asked for directions to get to our albergue.

When we’d left Boimorto, the road split, sending one part south to Arzua (which was where we knew we did not want to go to) and the other, north to O’Pino or Pedrouzo. The town of O’Pino was straddled between the two. Unfortunately for us, while we were on the northern route, our albergue was on the southern, on the other side of town and there was no way to reach it without retracing our steps for many kilometers, something neither Gary or I were willing to do. I’d made a mistake in map reading. Not my first, but any means, but it had caused us to take the wrong turn and now we were stuck. I was furious with myself for making the mistake, but Gary was gracious as always. We regrouped, canceled our reservation in O’Pino and set off again to Lavacolla, another 2 hours’ walk away.

We limped into Lavacolla, exhausted but grateful to finally be there. We stopped at the first place we could find to refuel - a gas station with a cafe - with not one but 2 Kaz Limón… the woman at the counter looked at us quizzically, but at this point we knew what we were doing. As we guzzled the first of our drinks, a couple of raggedy dogs came over and brought us a couple of rocks, hoping to engage us in some play.

The albergue was a strange one. Six twin beds covered in various shades of crayola colors. We shared a room with two rather loud Spaniards, but as it was our last night before we reached Santiago, we shrugged it off. After Gary called home we head out to find something to eat. Despite our tired bodies and sore feet, dinner that night was amazing. The restaurant was lovely, with white cloth tablecloths and a menu that didn’t include fried eggs or french fries. While Gary had a bowl of sopa ala gallega and roast chicken, I ordered a decadent soup of langostinos and a plate of grilled calamari. Yum! We even had dessert.