Woke up at 5 am. Did some yoga and started to get ready slowly. At 6:30 am my breakfast (coffee, bread, cheese and dulce de membrillo) was waiting for me. I didn’t see a soul. Very peaceful stay, helped me to catching up with this blog, since Casa da Valada doesn’t have WiFi. Yesterday a woman in her forties opened me the door of this stone house with a beautiful view. Her name is Concepción but people call her Sion but pronounced in Portuguese.
The second floor of the house is set up for Peregrinos but this year has been really slow and I’m the only one that stayed last night.
Concepción seems to be taking care of her mother. I saw a wheelchair next to the car and a vacuum cleaner and yesterday, when I was eating my veggie soup (3€) I heard a scream from inside the house and a tired Sion who was hand washing towels and sheets hollering back with not too much patience. I went to my bedroom around 8 pm without saying thank you or good night since she was busy with two handymen who were fixing the front door. Lots of discussions going on, I left unnoticed.
Now is almost 7 am and the sun is rising over the hills above the church.
I took some photos while the sun was rising. Mornings are my favorite part of the day. I love to watch the world around me to wake up. Today I walked 17.40 miles. I was glad I stopped in Labruja since not too far it was a big climb. I was grateful once again for the compfy boots that my son had gifted me with. It was a rocky climb. I met a true peregrino there that caught me by surprise since disrupted my solitude. He was walking from Lagos in Portugal’s Algarve, passed through Fátima. He wanted to get to Santiago and then Lourdes. He had lost his job, didn’t have money or eaten in three days. He was definitely looking for a miracle. I wanted to help him but I was scared of getting money for him right there in the loneliness of the Camino. I felt bad since I felt scared of a poor man. Misery doesn’t have mercy, and we behave worst in front of it.
The man walked really fast and I lost sight of him. I decided to take a 50 Euros bill and put it in one of my side pockets, ready to be grabbed and handed if I saw the man again. The problem was that I never saw him again. When I told my husband the story I started to cry, I don’t know if for the man’s misery or my own.