The rain in Spain

The rain in Spain finally came and like everything else in Spain, there was nothing tentative about it. It just bloody poured and poured, hosed down. There were bedraggled struggling pilgrims everywhere, plastic rain ponchos over packs making everyone look like very sad hunchbacks. We felt very glad to have a warm dry room in the San Martin monastery where we could look out the window at the dismal gray old stone buildings and the slippery cobbled streets while we had a lovely vino tinto! 

Our Camino angels overhead. 

The next day was no better but now the slippery cobblestones had become treacherous little rivers and our 20 minute walk to the bus station was an adventure. I’m happy to report our navigation skills are excellent (well actually Laura’s skill with google maps) and no slips, trips or falls but soaked to the skin. Now we sit damply on the bus to Porto and incubate our pneumonia. 

At the bus station when we dripped in, drowned rats, we met one of Laura’s admirers from weeks ago by chance. We hadn’t seen him for many days but he had made Santiago too. He proposed to her there and then. I don’t think she will accept but you never know - stranger things have happened.  

Now for our adventure in Portugal, just when we were getting the hang of Spanish!

Lesley xxx