Tonight I
slept right on the top of a big cliff at the end of the world, from which wind
blew as the right wind form the end of the world should: relentlessly and
mercilessly. I could compare it to the first night during the thunderstorm and
heavy rain. However, now, for me, as a seasoned traveler, it was a piece of
cake to build the tent to stand against the inclement weather. Firstly, I
looked for the right soil and avoided trees because there was a risk of falling
benches. After finding a good spot and determining from which side the wind
blows most ferociously and adjusting the basement accordingly, I actually built
the tent for the first time how it ought to be built: firstly the sticks and
then the construction. I used to do it the other way round because it was simply
quicker and I did not have any mood to play around with building my tent to
stand against everything possible and impossible when there was no wind. This
time, it was necessary, so I did it. Ironically, I found right at the end of my
trip that my tent is actually very spacious; there is ample room even for two
persons with luggage. Still, the wind was too strong and the tent itself could
not withstand by itself without any additional help. Therefore, I put the back
wheel of my bike on the spot that was under most pressure and used my binding
elastic rope to support the middle side that had no poles in the soil. Had I
used a normal solid rope, the wind might have taken my bike down, but thanks to
this elastic rope, the pressure was annihilated in the rope and I could sleep
safely without worries. The only thing that made it difficult to fall asleep
was the roaring of the wind and even my earplugs were of no use for that.
In the
morning I had another peaceful moment by observing the sunrise that was equally
magnificent to the sunset while drinking my last panache and eating a small,
old piece of baguette with olive oil that was left. It was high time to do some
shopping.
From Fisterra
I planned to take a bus and the first think I did was finding the bus station.
Originally, I wanted to take some photos of the town, but I got stuck there by
talking to a new acquaintance, a Korean guy who did the Camino on foot. I did
not really begrudge that because our conversation was utmost interesting, and
exchanging travelers' ideas and experiences is always very fascinating. I was a
little bit afraid how it would go with taking my bike on the bus, but it went
absolutely smoothly. I did not even have to take off the front wheel. My new
acquaintance proved to be very useful because he had stayed in Santiago for 4
days before leaving for Fisterra and had a deep knowledge of all auberges and
refugios. I asked him for some recommendation and in the end, we decided to
find a refugio together. We were successful on the third attempt and checked in
a huge monetary. It had some practical and social reasons why I decided to stay
in a hostel the last night. Imagine a guy without proper hygiene and shower for
a week beside whom you had to sit about 17 hours in the bus – such a bus ride
would be a smelly nightmare. I took every precaution to spare the passenger
sitting next to me this unpleasant experience. Actually, I must admit that
during these 6 weeks on the road my hygienic standards and my conscience about
hygiene itself were constantly slipping. I did my best to keep myself clean,
but in such scratch condition it was not easy. If you experience 30 plus
degrees Celsius during a hot summer day, you will be prompted by your
conscience and consciousness to take shower several times a day. But what would
you do if you had no shower, or the prospect of having a shower would be too
dim or even unfeasible? Would you diligently shower yourself with the last 2 liters
of drinking water if you were not sure when you can replenish your bottles?
When you arrive back home, you might have a rest in the shadow for a while,
even if you are sweating like hell, but still you are lying painting and taking
a break. But consider, would you take a shower if you knew that you would bike
the whole day on the sun, would be completely sweaty few minutes after your
improvised shower, sweaty in the evening after biking when it does not matter much
if you smell to yourself or not, sweaty in the evening because you cannot fall
asleep during the hot temperature and at night, you have to take something on
because it is too cold and, in the end, you are sweaty again. You can keep up
with your hygiene habits only out of the habit even though it does not make
much practical sense. That is what I did – wet handkerchiefs proved to be
extremely handy for the purpose of
washing the most crucial parts of your body - the rest would be dirty from the dust mixed
with your sweat in no time anyway. Such extreme conditions, however, take a
toll in your conscience, too. Now I do understand homeless people, why they do
not bother taking a shower regularly and keeping themselves clean. I daresay,
everyone, even the person with highest hygienic standards would fall into this
smelly trap, it is just the matter of time as you still see less and less
importance in being tidy. This of course goes hand in hand with your
opportunities to keep yourself clean. If you have a prospect of having a shower
without much struggle every evening, your hygienic habits will urge you to take
it. Should you have only a cold well at your disposal in which you can shower
naked during the day and it is even so complicated during the night, you would
think twice before doing it. And so, little by little, you standards start slipping
down, you do not smell that you smell (your senses become dumbfounded by your
own scent) and it is up to your conscience and consideration what you do next.
I bought a special deodorant I used every time when I entered a shop, but
judging from the stares of many people it helped only little. Still, it was my privilege
to be smelly as a traveler and pilgrim, so what :P I just wanted to point it
out that once again, everything proves to be a point of view.
When my
clothes are concerned, I firstly (1st Week) considered as clean my nicely
folded panties and socks and everything after 2 days was ready for washing. At
the end of my trip, I can solemnly proclaim that now I consider as clean a grey
T-shirt (originally white) that does not has too many obvious stains and could
be washed in cold water from a well with a little bit of the cheapest shampoo
that smelled disgusting anyway. I will not divulge the secret what I considered
dirty and after what time. It will stay the secret of the trade. Try by yourself
and you will find out :D. The only thing I tell you is that my mum threw that
in my opinion still clean T-shirt to the garbage because it could not be washed
even after 2 times in the wash machine with the strongest detergents available.
It is also
funny how I washed my clothes, I have done it as following: I took a shopping
bag, put water inside, a little bit of that putrid shampoo, and washed with one
hand one piece of clothes with the other. The idea was not to take away stains,
but to simply kill that sweaty smell that started to be unbearable even for me.
And drying your clothes? Simplicity itself: on your bike – panties, socks, T-shirts,
water, just as parade of a peripatetic traveler. Bypassing people squinted at
this unusual scenery with utmost surprise and usually speeded up to get away.
The funniest part was looking for something in my luggage. Everything was
nicely arranged in shopping bags and this gave me the utmost look of a
homeless. The only pretence I did to show that I am not that scum I looked like
was taking out my Kindle to show off that I have some electronics, too. But
still, I guess that they were thinking, the times are changing and even
homeless people can afford having an electronic reading book or a small
notebook. In regard to this topic, one particular thing is coming to my mind:
Here in Spain, I have had always myriad of flies behind my back, harassing
during breaks and even chasing me during biking. I was not surprised, flies are
usually attracted to shitty and smelly things, and thus I was a perfect object
for them. However, if I compare it to France during the utmost heat, there were
no flies at all. This things makes me wonder and I have only two explanations
for that: Either, there are no flies In France (highly improbable), or, I must
have smelled so badly that even flies kept off.
After the
check-in I went straigt to Lidl where I needed to buy supplies for another two
days. I found it on the map only 2 km away, but it seriously felt like it was
20 km because the sun and hunger exhausted me to the point that I could barely
move. Still, the lunch was very regarding after that. After coming back to the
hostel, I took a shower, had a little siesta, and strode into the town to enjoy
Santiago de Compostela at night.
The city
atmosphere at night was very unique. You could see a street artist almost in
every little square in the old town. Restaurants were full of tourists despite
high prices, but demographically of the other sort of tourists that I was used
to during the Camino. Intrepid pilgrims usually broke, met on the main square
where they talked, celebrated and drunk. I also had few cans of beer with me
and tried to cool them down in a fountain. I soothed my hunger in a local
restaurant and clearly fell for the name of the food on the menu. I originally
expected that the size of my "Spanish omelette" would go hand in hand
with its high price (7,5 €), but in the reality it was just a small omelets
with some ham in it. That was a really bad choice because later I found paila,
the Spanish national food for a reasonable price. Never mind, you cannot be
lucky all the time. Ironically, one does not feel lonely when walking or biking
alone in the nature, but while walking in the city among many other people. In
my case, I guess it was the mixed bittersweet feeling of having successfully
finished my summer trip and not having anyone to share the joy with. The social
aspect of the Camino somehow slept through my fingers due to the fact that I
moved too fast, went through different routes, and did not have many opportunities
to interact with people. On the other hand, solitude was also one of many goals
of this journey, but somehow it got to the point that it stopped being pleasant
and enhancing. Well, maybe it is better this way. Now I will appreciate much
more staying with my family and friends.
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