Camino De Santiago: Portuguese Way Episode 3
In the morning, I packed up and walked down the sloping street to the bridge that would take me to Barcelos on the other side of the river. Another beautiful morning greeted me, with thin, wispy clouds high in the sky. The yellow Camino arrows faithfully guided me along the narrow streets past many shops and people going about their day. The arrows soon led me out of the center and towards the outskirts of town, and all the while, I had my eyes peeled for a place to stop for breakfast. I eventually came to a stop at a café where I had a ham and cheese sandwich with an espresso. I sat outside on the terrace, enjoying the calm, peaceful morning. I noticed several pilgrims walking by, so I got up as soon as I could to rejoin the nomadic flow.
Soon thereafter, I was at a railroad track, and as I crossed, I encountered an older woman from Cape Town, South Africa. We had a very pleasant chat about our lives until she and her husband stopped at a small market to pick up some fruit and snacks. I kept walking on.
After covering some distance, I found myself at a fork in the road. Both paths were official Camino routes, and they were approximately the same distance. One led to a chapel; the other led to a wooden cross. I chose to go left—towards the chapel. I passed the unassuming chapel and began on a long stretch of cobblestones, which aggravated the knee and ankle pains. After some elevation gains and declines, I was at a natural spring fountain that flowed constantly. I refilled my water bottle and drank some of the cold, crisp, revitalizing water. It was the perfect oasis for a weary traveller. I tackled some more distance in the sweltering heat and eventually arrived at a busy restaurant full of locals and pilgrims. I sat outside under the shade of an umbrella, ordered a pilgrim meal, and treated myself to a cold can of orange soda (or pop, as I call it back home in Canada). I started to deeply appreciate these moments of rest and relaxation amid a day of constant movement. And the sodas. I rarely drank sodas back home, but a cold glass bottle of Coke, lemon-lime, or any fruit flavoured soft drink was satisfying in ways I could not describe.
I ventured on and was soon deep within gently rolling hills of farmland, surrounded by the rancid but familiar smell of manure wafting through the air. The sun was still somewhat high when I finally arrived at my albergue for the night somewhere in Igreja. The albergue was tucked behind a chapel, with a narrow dirt path leading me to the gate. Beyond it was a beautiful rural property. Farm animals roamed freely on one side; on the other were two houses serving as accommodations for pilgrims. The property had sweeping views overlooking much of the farmland below. After a long day on the trail, it felt like a welcome place to stop.
After settling in, I quickly became acquainted with the other pilgrims staying there, and before long, we were sitting outside together with beers in hand. We had a congregation of people from many corners of the world. And still, there was an easy camaraderie among us, despite the fact that only moments earlier we had been complete strangers. The host eventually called us into the main house for dinner, and we gathered around a communal table where we enjoyed a hearty meal of soup, pasta, and plenty of wine.
As the evening wore on, the conversation became livelier and the laughter more frequent. Stories were shared, glasses were refilled, and the hours seemed to slip away unnoticed. What I enjoyed most was the communal nature of the dinner. We were strangers from faraway places, brought together by the same trail, breaking bread and sharing stories as though we had known one another much longer.
On the Camino, moments like this can appear unexpectedly—a collection of strangers becoming a temporary little community before eventually going their separate ways. Even as the night was happening, I knew I would remember it fondly.