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We had a glorious walk through stone and slate hamlets, fields of cut grain, fruit trees and woods of eucalyptus. The sun shone, the birds sang, and our feet clipped along at a comfortable, unhurried pace.
A picnic in a knoll in the woods.
We are staying for a second night at a fabulous pazo (the Galician word for grand country house). I am sitting under the shade of plane trees with the sound of a trickling fountain sitting on the ledge of an old stone cross.
I could stay here for a long time. In fact, I think I may be a country girl at heart. I have always assumed I was a city rat but have been gradually realizing that I feel more alive and at peace in the country. This Camino has strengthened that feeling. I wonder what it will be like to go from here to the throbbing streets of Hanoi and Saigon.
Going to take some more of the interior. We asked the owner last night about how her family now viewed the era if Franco. Not enough time to recount now but a fascinating reply.
She (Elena) is now walking from the garden with armloads of the biggest late season hydrangeas I have ever seen.
This was a summer house among 4 or 5 others. We met three of adult children who restored and are running the place. Our hostess, Elena, shared some of family lore.
