As loud as the angle grinder was through the night for my ears, it was peaceful for my head—it lulled me to sleep. I don’t know exactly what they were doing with that machine, I just hope they weren’t cutting human body parts. In the morning, I scraped myself out of the hostel quietly. Even a stable looks better than that place, as far as my review goes. My morning companions were once again darkness and cold—my sworn enemies on this path. Pure fear and dread until sunrise. That was a long two hours in my head. The weather here has only two gears: minimum and maximum on the thermometer. Turns out I hadn’t said goodbye to the climbs just yet, so it was time to battle my way up Alto do Torres, 800 meters up. Since I’d been missing nature, it was a pleasant surprise. The path reminded me of Hospitales. The descent was rocket-speed fast. Since I’ve gotten into good shape on this path, smoke was coming off my shoes. What is pain? Probably the sugar I’d consumed on the trail was the real culprit for my speed. When that stuff kicks in, no one can stop you. Today wasn’t about ME and the path. It was a total crowd scene, full of people doing the last 100 km just for Instagram and Facebook photos. Who needs personal space when you can rub up against 50 strangers at once? A school of sardines. What followed was a quick slalom through lost souls. They smelled like fabric softener and wore their prettiest outfits just to look good on social media. THAT IS NOT CAMINO. And there I was among them, hair unbrushed, wearing stinking rags. THAT is Camino. When I started this journey, I quietly hoped I’d finish it on the 11th day, but being stubborn as I am, I’ll reach Santiago in ten days—so, tomorrow. Those who are on this odyssey for the first time can’t wait to reach the big city, proud to make it to the end. Me? I’d rather turn around and walk straight back to the beginning. It was sweet, but too short. I’ve reached the finish line faster than a cat hearing a can opener. The cat is happy. Me, not so much—because it means I only have two days left with Gro.
But that’s life. People come and go. I can only be grateful I had the chance to meet such a wonderful person, perfectly matched for evening beers and laughs. We wrapped up day 9 in the town of Arzua, where all the paths merge. There was no shortage of people or noise. Both of us wished we could head back into the hills, where peace reigns and the air smells like animal shit. Neither of us likes showing emotions. We’re supposedly strong women, so instead of crying from sadness, we headed to the center for a beer or two, determined to make the most of our time together. We never ran out of things to talk about—or reasons to laugh. There was so much laughter that people at the neighboring tables wanted to join us, but we didn’t want anyone else around. We were enough for each other. This will definitely be one of the hardest goodbyes of my Camino.
