…with a large doze of Vila do Conde.
Waking up in a communal dormitory is an interesting experience. You really are one with the group. Somebody decides it’s time to get up and put the kettle on, well, everybody gets up and put their kettles on. Also, zip their backpacks and other things, like, a hundred times, at least. But don’t let me go on complaining, I’ve asked for this when I decided to sleep here, no?
We have an easy day ahead, so darting off at 6am serves no purpose, and we’re the last to leave.
Today’s stage consists of same boardwalk along the beaches that’s become so familiar to us and of streets of small coastal towns, once fishing communities, now mostly vacation property and rural quietness.
Because we’ve made arrangements for the night, we actually have a bit too little ground to cover. To not arrive 4 hours before they let us check in, we kill time by exploring Vila do Conde which is small and provincial but still urban and with its own vibe. An elderly gentleman has a long conversation with us explaining the finely nuanced differences between Catholicism and Lutheran protestantism. He calls himself “a friend of St.Clara and St.Francis” and an assistant to the padre in St. Francis’ church nearby. He also insisted on signing our pilgrims’ credentials – oh, well. If he’s happy to run and get the pen to do it, we’re happy to let him.
In Póvoa de Varzim where we’re staying tonight it’s so bloody windy i forget i am not in Norway. No swimming today, sorry. Quick stroll around the town and a dinner of Francesinhas, which is a Portugese sandwich with ham, cheese, more cheese and a fried egg on top, with ungodly amounts of sangria.
