Two days ago, we arrived in Santiago, where Bruno continued to work late into the night. I quickly fell asleep, as usual, and woke up around 2:30 a.m. to find that Bruno was still working. He didn’t turn off his light until around 3 a.m. On Wednesday morning, I got up quietly, took a shower, and went to have breakfast alone in the large communal dining area, with a view of the cathedral's towers. A beautiful setting for breakfast.
The Porta en Praza and the Mazarelos neighbourhood where we had dinner the night before. The dining area with a view on the cathedral
I still had some bread from the day before and found small portions of honey on a shelf with leftover food that pilgrims leave behind. Along with instant coffee, small milk bottles, and a piece of cheese, it turned into a delicious breakfast. Unfortunately, I overheated the water, and when I added the coffee, it caused a volcanic effect that made half of the coffee spill over the edge of my cup. Bruno later explained the physical effect behind it, but I’ve already forgotten the name. Bruno slowly woke up, helped by a coffee I made for him with water that wasn’t boiling hot. He had to go into town first to buy a gift for his partner, Anett. She is Hungarian, and they have known each other since they were 15, having attended the European School in Varese together. Anett is working on her PhD thesis, conducting research at the University of Oxford on the relationship between environmental pollution and the survival rates of birds like blue tits, with concerning results.
Bruno's departure and interior of the cathedral of Santiago
Bruno also wanted to collect his Compostelana and wander around Santiago for a bit, enjoying a café cortado (or two) and something savory, not sweet. While he did that, I went shopping for lunch and made sandwiches for him to take on his journey to London, followed by a long bus trip to Oxford. His flight wasn’t until 6:20 p.m., so it would be a long day. After a shared lunch, we began disassembling his bike around 2:30 p.m., so it would fit into the bike bag. At 3:30 p.m., the taxi was ready at the hotel. We said our goodbyes with a firm hug, and I had to blink away a tear as he left. I felt a bit lost afterward.
I went to the bus station to gather information for my trip to Muxía. Then, I wandered through the old town and visited the cathedral. Later, I arranged for my bike and luggage to be shipped back to Leuven through a Dutch company. I kept only the bare essentials with me.
Entance of the faculty of Philosophy. The Jesuit church and the convent of the Mercedarian sisters
In the evening, I had an omelet with three eggs and tomatoes in the communal area, accompanied by a glass of Spanish white wine. At the table were two German students from Baden-Württemberg, Myriam and Laura, who are training to become teachers at the University of Freiburg. Myriam wants to teach health and mathematics, while Laura wants to teach health and English. Their training consists of three bachelor’s years, two master’s years, plus 1.5 years of paid internships. Secondary school teaching is well-paid, but there’s still a shortage of teachers, perhaps because the studies take 6.5 years in total. They walked the Camino Portugués from Porto and spoke enthusiastically about their first Camino, which they hope to repeat. At the other end of the table sat Andreas, an Italian who lives by Lake Garda and specializes in security systems. He offered me a glass of wine, apologizing with a smile for the quality of the Spanish wine, which he said couldn’t compare to Italian. He spoke English with a charming Italian accent. He had also walked the Camino Portugués. All three of them agreed that the route was beautiful, especially the part along the stunning Portuguese coast.’
It was a pleasant evening that helped me forget that Bruno was no longer with me. As usual, I went to bed early and received a message from Bruno saying he had landed safely in London and was on his way to Oxford. After a quick phone call with Magda, I went to sleep.
On Thursday, I didn’t get up too early. After a shower and breakfast, I walked to the bus station, where the bus left for Muxía around 11 a.m. Along the way, I saw a lot of greenery—pine trees, eucalyptus, and cornfields—but few animals. The sky was gray. Magda thought it was a good idea that I had taken the bus; she said I looked tired and old and needed some rest.
Muxia: the village and my hotel and room with a view on the sea
I had seen online that the 80 km route between Santiago and Muxía had many steep hills, and I saw it with my own eyes from my front-row seat on the bus. Plus, the weather forecast was quite bad. In Muxía, at the far end of the coast, I stayed at Hostel Muxía Mare, where I had a lovely room. The hostel mostly offers rooms for 4, 8, or 12 people, but Magda insisted I deserved a private room for €40, with a shower, toilet, and a sea view—what a luxury! Muxía is a fishing village without real beaches for sunbathers, but it attracts many hikers. Soon, I was out exploring the picturesque fishing village, which has been a destination for pilgrims since the Middle Ages, along with Fisterra (Finis Terrae, or the end of the world), located 30 km away, which I might visit tomorrow before heading back to Santiago.
the rugged coast of Muxia. The church and the statue of Santa María de la Barca
Muxía is on a peninsula, known for its rugged coastline and the granite church, Sanctuario de Santa María de la Barca, standing at the water’s edge. The church was restored after being struck by lightning in 2013. Inside, there is a beautiful baroque altarpiece dedicated to the Virgen de la Barca, who, according to legend, appeared to Santiago. The oldest church was built on a site where pagan practices once took place, a common tactic by the Catholic Church to assert its dominance over paganism. Every year, there is a nine-day novena celebrating the Virgin of the Boat. The peaceful religious music played inside the church brought a sense of calm. During my visit, I requested and received a large, beautiful stamp to close out my 2024 credential.
The lighthouse, the rocks and the memorial of the shipwreck
Nearby stands a white lighthouse, warning ships of the dangerous rocks. Despite this, in November 2002, the tanker Prestige ran aground here, spilling 11,000 tons of crude oil into the Atlantic Ocean. An international rescue effort brought thousands of volunteers to save the beaches. A monument in the shape of a split rock commemorates this tragic event. From a mirador, there’s a stunning view of the large hill with the colorful village on one side, and on the other, the granite church, rugged rocks, and white lighthouse—a unique piece of nature.
The view from the mirador
On the rocks, fishermen search for barnacles (known as penebres in Spanish), a type of shellfish that looks like a toe with a toenail. When the sea isn’t too rough, they harvest these from small boats on the rocks. As I headed back to my room, I saw a fisherman in a shed cleaning and sorting shellfish. He confirmed that he had harvested penebres that day. Santiago told me they’re a delicacy—just boil them briefly in seawater, and they’re ready to eat. They’re usually served as an appetizer with a nice dry white wine. The large ones cost €70 per kilo in the summer, but around Christmas, the price can go up to €200. Smaller ones are cheaper. Harvesting these shellfish is strictly regulated: licensed fishermen can collect up to 5 kg per day. I thanked Santiago for the information and wandered through the streets.
view from the mirador.Santiago who has harvested penebres
After doing some shopping for the evening and the next day, I returned to my room to rest and update my blog from the past few days. Tomorrow, I’ll take the early bus back to Santiago, possibly via Fisterra. On Saturday, I’ll need to leave for the airport in time for my 10:00 a.m. flight, which I don’t want to miss.
The towers of Santa María de la Barca
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