Hardcore

We are in Melide, a town about 50 kilometers outside of Santiago, for the night. To us it seems like a huge city - it even has a supermarket (possibly more than one) with an actual variety of foods, something truly rare on the camino - and we spent an hour or so earlier in a cool bar that played some really good music. Since we don't have any music of our own, we are suckers for music at bars and restaurants and will actually stay places far longer than we initially intended just because we want to hear the next song.

Today was a short day of walking - only about 16 km - because we really wanted to stop here in Melide for what is promised to be the best Galician octopus around. Unlike most Spanish food, Galician octopus is not breaded before it is fried. It also does not include any pork products. Nonetheless, we have been hearing about the amazingness of this particular octopus from this one particular restaurant for weeks and are determined to try it. This means, of course, that the octopus will be subpar, because that is usually the way things like this go. It should be fun anyway, especially since we were also promised that we would be served by a mutant family, although I suspect that part may have been an exaggeration.

We only have 3 more days of walking before we reach Santiago - meaning it will have taken us 38 days to walk the Camino, and that is with the equivalent of 3 or 4 rest days. After that it will be another 3 or 4 days to the beach city of Finisterre, where we are supposed to burn our nasty, pilgrim-smelling clothes in celebration.

Recently we have been joined by a new breed of pilgrim - the short-term, cop-out, just-doing-the-bare-minimum type of pilgrim. This is because it is only required that you walk the last 100 km into Santiago in order to receive the special certificate of completion. Apparently there are many, many, many people who choose this option, particularly younger people and those with children, or people who are just in it for the sport (like the cyclists - a particularly interesting breed). The refuges are generally packed - and since we entered Galicia they are all donativo, or run on donations (we have learned this also means that the showers are cold). The camino itself is also much more crowded, which is less of a problem for us since we never manage to leave at a functional hour (meaning pre-7 a.m.) time anyway, giving us some distance from the hordes.

It is a shame that this is the most touristy and crowded part of the camino, since it is also very beautiful. We have had some great (although hot) weather recently and the walk, although undulating, has been very pleasant. The benefit of the new pilgrims, though, is that we get to seem that much more hardcore. Before joining the newbies, a fairly decent percentage of the pilgrim population began in France (or at least in eastern Spain) and our trek was not at all unique or different. Now we get to boast to the small-timers (you can tell them - they walk like they are in pain, they don't know how to heal their blisters, and they don't smell nearly as ripe) about how we started in St. Jean when they innocently inquire. They are usually genuinely awed, and although it may be somewhat egotistical, it is genuinely cool for us.

It is still hard to accept that our journey is almost over, so much so that I must admit I have been trying to figure out how I could possibly fanangle a way to avoid returning to reality. So far it is proving elusive.