Here we are at the home stretch of this thing finally. I've only got six days left on this whole adventure, and as of this afternoon only about 180 kilometers left until I reach Santiago de Compostela. Like always, the idea of stopping is a little strange. For the past month and a half I've constantly been on the move, living out of a backpack, seeing and tasting and breathing in all of these beautiful places that I would have otherwise never seen. Speaking in a crazy mix of English, German, and a bizarre pidgin Spanglish to get around in Spain when I can't use either of the first two. Meeting people from all over the world with a million different stories. On one hand it's sad to think of it all coming to an end, especially in the sense that once I'm finished with the Camino it's going to be time for me to finally go back to Utah and the USA after living for a year on this amazing continent, but on the other hand it's going to be nice. I think I'm finally reaching the limits of what my body is capable of. I've THOUGHT that I've reached my limits plenty of times in the past three weeks of course, but this morning the Weariness plunged to a whole new depth. I stopped ten kilometers short of my goal today, and was dragging some serious ass down the trail all day, barely able or willing to take photos of or even look at all of the amazing scenery I was plodding my way through.
But the Camino is, of course, constantly leaving me awestruck and bewundert with every passing day. I had heard before getting to Galicia that this is the most beautiful part of the Camino, and that has aboslutely proven to be true. As I walk up and over and through these mountains and hillsides covered with vinyards and these beautiful little towns I'm getting flashes of what I thought it would be like before leaving. For a vast majority I'm walking on nice dirt trails, far removed from the highway and civilization, with vast, sweeping views of the mountains around me after every turn. It has really been some of the best scenery of the whole trip, and it's been a great way to bring the Camino to a close.
For the most part the new pilgrims aren't disturbing the experience as much as I thought they would. Sure, you can tell who are the novices and who are the experienced pilgrims almost instantly when you see them, but I'm trying to avoid getting snotty about it. I can't help the occasional "Yep, too much stuff in your backpack terrible shoes waist strap is too low and you're walking too fast" thought flashing through my head, and the atmosphere on the Camino itself is a lot less personal than it was before León (not to mention more crowded), but fortunately the albergues are still the same as always. You have to get there pretty early in the day sometimes, but the people you're sharing the albergue with, whether they've been walking 60 kilometers or 600, are still as friendly and open and inviting as they've ever been.
Met some funny characters too, one Italian in particular. I don't know his name, I refer to him as Bacchus in my head. For the past three days or so we've been staying at all the same hostels, and he seems to be intent on being as loud and drunk and merry as he possibly can at all times of the day. One night, when I was sitting at a table with a bunch of Spaniards and Italians, he was constantly refilling glasses from a big jug of wine he had with him. When he got to my glass he'd yell "Hey! America boy! Italian Style!!!" each time, at one point taking me by the shoulders and putting me back on the bench with the others when I tried to go back inside, despite my polite yet forceful protestations that I'd had quite enough Italian Style and just wanted to go to sleep. When he walks he has a big Italian flag that he flies from his walking staff, and he shouts "Italia Numero Uno!" to everybody he sees on the street. Interesting guy to be sure.
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