Our common language was English, which Jean Max and I speak passably well. However, Giovanni, who’s become an important third of our indomitable trio, speaks some English but much better French, so we now converse primarily in French…Giovanni’s French is better than mine and Jean Max has stopped speaking so slowly for my benefit… It’s great practice, even if I miss half the conversation!
Giovanni has added a wonderful extra element to our Camino… He’s a delightful, kind and gentle soul, in the process of making some enormous changes in his life.
Following a number of ups and downs in his personal life, he has taken a vow of celibacy and is following Orders to become a Franciscan Monk. I just love his company, a man at peace with himself and his maker.
He has found his place on this earth, helping young adults with dependency issues recognise that there can be another way to live their lives – not just by pushing his faith, but using examples such as walking the Camino – the spiritual fulfilment it provides.
He describes his Camino as a ‘Walk of Courage’ and has taken countless photos and keeps a journal, which he will be turning into a presentation for his Association when he returns to Italy. It would be wrong and probably inaccurate for me to comment further on his mission, but it’s wonderful to also see the Camino through his eyes… Sort of 20:20:20 vision.
And as Jean Max says… “If an Italian doesn’t sing, he’s not an Italian”. By this measure, Giovanni is undoubtedly Italian and will occasionally break into an aria from La Traviata and other operas. Yesterday we became the 3 tenors with our rendition of Nessun Dorma, sung at the top of our voices somewhere along a high mountain ridge… Strangely, all the other peregrinos were keeping their distance, we didn’t care anyway!
We’d awoken expectantly following our night with the Spanish crowd at Casa Herminia, and were rewarded with a most beautiful, calm morning. We knew immediately that we’d be walking the high ‘Hospitales’ route, and after coffee and toast set off in the mist for the day’s adventures.
After a few kilometres, we reached the point where the route split. I took the decision to walk the lower section for a while before climbing to meet the others. There was definitely something in the air that day… my senses were extraordinarily heightened in the quiet and beauty of my surroundings and the true reason for walking the Primitivo at this time was becoming ever clearer😊!
I attempted to make my way up the hill to join the others on a higher path but was not sure of the exact route so found a tiny cafe, which doubled as the local supermarket… It was like going back 50 years in time and the charming elderly lady owner made me a coffee the traditional way on the stove, half for me and half for her, before escorting me several hundred metres up the road to make sure I didn’t get any more lost!
After an hour or so I could see Giovanni in the distance and then Jean Max, with his unmistakeable ‘legendary’ 40yr old rucksack. We were so lucky to have found the most glorious day to be taking the infamous Hospitales route after yesterday’s dullness.
We stopped at the top for a snack with our new Spanish friends before continuing for 10kms along the undulating ridge. It was spectacular and without question lived up to its billing.
We ate our lunch in the warm afternoon sunshine and hadn’t appreciated how late it was getting as we stepped gingerly down the gravelly path, losing height rapidly.
The less said about our accommodation that night the better… Let’s charitably call it ‘rustic’. We knew we weren’t going to eat there when Jean Max picked up a menu coated in thick grime… The multitude of flies didn’t exactly encourage us either, but at least the sheets seemed clean and I’m not itching or scratching… yet!
The drought over much of Southern Europe this year resulted in many serious forest fires and our next day’s route was diverted and extended as a consequence. It’s remarkable how nature fights back; even as we walked through the blackened landscape there was plenty of evidence of new life forming. 
The most spectacular sight this day was undoubtedly the huge hydroelectric dam near Grandas de Salime, which we walked across and admired from both sides. It was finished in 1954 but cost the lives of several hundred workers during its construction. The remains of the workers houses can still be seen and give the place quite an eerie feel. 
We have now crossed from Asturias into Galicia and a line of stones and a small plaque marks the border between the regions. My guide book warns that the first cafe we come across in Galicia has a reputation of charging more to non locals, so I checked the price first and all was fine.
A German female peregino we refer to as ‘les jambes’ (guess why!) had her bottle filled from the tap, but when Giovanni asked for the same a few minutes later, he was told the tap water was not drinkable and he must spend €1.50 on a small bottle of mineral water. It appears the owner has his own moral code… No scruples in ripping off scruffy, middle age hombres, but pleased to serve gratuito tall, leggy, blondes…
This poor experience was quickly countered by the next café we stopped at, after a horrible long, steep and unexpected climb in the heat. Not only were the drinks very cheap, the smiley owner kept appearing with trays of freshly prepared pinchos for us… I could have stayed there all day!
We’ve now covered more than half our Camino. It’s been blissful, and right now I feel that I could walk forever.
- “The road seen, then not seen, the hillside hiding then revealing the way you should take, the road dropping away from you as if leaving you to walk on thin air, then catching you, and holding you up, when you thought you would fall, and the way forward always in the end the way that you followed, the way that carried you into your future, that brought you to this place, no matter that it sometimes took your promise from you, no matter that it had to break your heart along the way: the sense of having walked from far inside yourself out into the revelation, to have risked yourself for something that seemed to stand both inside you and far beyond you, that called you back to the only road in the end you could follow, walking as you did, in your rags of love…”
Peebeecat 