The last of the Portugal is behind us as the small river taxi takes us over to the Spanish side while the captain explains to me why the car ferry isn’t in operation any more.
Apparently, the reasons are “political” as none of the sides wants to take responsibility for fixing up the old boat or for the dredging of the river. The clock dutifully clicks one hour forward somewhere in the middle, where the border should be. Of course, there is no other sign of the border, blessed be free Europe.
Galicia! We immediately feel increased attention to the pilgrims, people smile, wave and inform us how many times and how quickly they made the pilgrimage themselves. I appreciate the attention.
The coast is beautiful, truly. Not very unlike the Norwegian coast actually. Many things are different, but the way tide interacts with the shore and how people use the adjacent land reminds us a lot of home.
Today’s stage is, at first, disappointingly short, we think. After a while it becomes “yeah, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to rest a bit” and finally it is frustratingly long and we’re happy to be in a separate room for two and have a midday nap before starting the hunt for food (which actually is a bit scarce in these parts). The local shop that sells everything in the space not bigger than my bathroom gives us pasta and some seafood which we improvise into a very decent dinner washed down with a bottle of nice white.