Startpoint: Portomarin; Endpoint: Casanova; Steps taken: 40,094; Distance walked: 31km.

We started today examining the condition of one of our fellow pilgrim’s feet. She is Australian and I have often watched Border Patrol, so I naturally assumed at first that she was smuggling a large jellyfish in her sock, and it had actually begun to eat her foot. It turns out that she actually is the owner of the largest blister in Spain.

There were a lot of new pilgrims on the walk again today. They were taking pictures of the fog and of the trees. Riveting. Things are also getting more expensive. €1.50 for a coffee! Ridiculous.

When I stopped for my mid-morning coffee I took the opportunity to try and dry my shirt under the hand drier in the bathroom. Unfortunately the lock on the cubicle was broken (like 85% of cafe bathrooms in the world), so while shitting on the toilet topless, one fellow pilgrim walked in on me. After he and I apologised profusely, I proceeded to re-apply some anti-chafe gel, when I was interrupted again. Topless and applying gel to chaffed bodyparts is not a flattering look for anyone, but I feel more sorry for the guy who saw me.

In Palas de Rei we saw a church offering stamps for our pilgrim credentials. Celine Dion’s version of ‘Power of Love’ was being played loudly over the Church PA system, so naturally we went in. The stamps were extra special for the wonderful musical accompaniment.

We met Jellyfish Blister-girl in Palas de Rei again. As she was struggling with her feet, I carried her bag for a few kilometres. Some people thought I was being chivalrous, but it was actually just a handy excuse to walk slowly. Also, as I was wearing it on my front, had I fallen down, it would have provided a very nice cushion to my front. A number of people commented on my carrying of the extra bag, so I offered to carry their bags too. Luckily they recognised the look of exhaustion and agony on my face and declined my generous offer.

We’re staying in a small municipal hostel in the tiny hamlet-let of Casanova. A French lady checking in at the same time translated for us, and explained that while there was no food available in the hostel, she could arrange for another hostel to collect us, feed us and return us in time for lights out.

The same French woman later explained that we were in fact unwittingly the victims of a Galician cartel, whereby municipal hostels have ill-equipped kitchens to force pilgrims into local eateries.

At €9 for a three course meal, all the wine we could drink, and a return taxi ride to and from the restaurant, I think I’ll hold off on writing my letter of complaint to the European Commission office of Anti-competitive behaviour and Consumer protection.

We’re in a very small room with ten beds and nine pilgrims. I’m beside a terrible snorer, a notorious early-riser, and the same French lady is still voicing her loud lengthy opinions on the failings of the Galician hostel industry. I really wish I had drunk more wine.

While my Dad was here, the one thing he missed was the opportunity to have a bath after his long day’s walk. As I know he is hoping to come back to complete the Camino in a few years, I’ve been researching the availability of baths. The results of my research are below.

Buen Camino