Sunday, 26 July 2009

Hobbling On Regardless...

Thursday July 16th: I always seem to be the last one out. Not for me is the plastic bag and flashlight rush. I like to SEE my Camino and besides not only is there no need on the Camino Portuguese as you are virtually guaranteed of a place, but the weather is likely to improve if it raining as I was to find out in Galicia.

I found that the sign markers out of O Porriño are no better than the waymarking in and I missed the Camino two times. Please Señor New President of Galicia whose name I forget but I think it rhymes with Yahoo or something like it: bring back the Yellow Arrow painters - your waymarking sucks!

I got to Mos which isn't very far and is very pretty. The Albergue is not much used as most go on to Redondela direct. There was a funeral going on when I arrived. The lady with the carefully applied make-up and the perfect skin told me (I am 73!) that it was the third funeral that week. The young people leave these places and their families and go to work in places like Vigo but I am not convinced they are better off.

As it was, I liked Mos very much.

There is a sign in the Refugio which says: "There are no Hospitaleros in Galicia but "Trabajadores de la Xunta". Now, take that word "workers". Somehow changes the focus somewhat doesn't it? Workers vs. those who give hospitality?

I go to the shop across the road and meet Flora who keeps the key. She is worried because the Trabajadora who cleans the refugio hasn't turned up for two days and there is a lot of garbage piled up (virtually nowhere in Galicia recycles except for O Porriño where they go overboard). She says that a lot of people are incensed because they now have to pay three euros whereas before the Refugios (when did they become "Albergues"?) were "free". The truck drivers off the main N550 highway pay more than that for a shower, she says. I have the key to the Albergue. I go back to get some money and tell her I am going to rent the Albergues' showers out to the truck drivers for two Euros apiece which she finds immensely funny.

I go to the simple church, simple in a Romanesque style if you can get past all the baroque gold additions and all the saints. It smells of incense and I have a yearning for Santiago and its cathedral. I stay for mass. The priest is late but no-one seems to care. At some point during the Litany he has to search through his book for the next bit. I have seen this before but am still amazed: doesn't he KNOW this by heart by now?

As I have said, I like Mos.

I indulge in a little fantasy: I could live here, perhaps as a resident writer, a minor oddity but respected by all; I could do good works, join the community, learn a little Galego (though I have heard none spoken here in fact the Castellano has a Madrid accent with its "th" for "d" endings), maybe learn to play the Gaita a bit......

Tracy! Back to reality!

On to Redondela tomorrow. I am ready now.

No comments:

Post a Comment