Camino Wander #3: Surprise Diversion

Porto, Portugal!

Hello hello!

The travels continue and I think I surprised even myself to be in Porto, Portugal!

Yep. I had no intention of heading south - I’ve been to Porto before - but I was looking for somewhere to fill my week between my Finisterre days.

Getting to Porto is relatively easy, but you’ve got to get out of Finisterre first.

Finisterre is on the west coast of Spain - considered the end of the world in days gone by - and it feels like it. There is little in Finisterre but fishing vessels, beach, lots of tourist shops and restaurants, the Camino trails in from Santiago and our to Muxia (or vice versa)… and little else. It’s why I like it. But it takes 3 hours by bus to get to and from Santiago. It’s a very winding road with small seaside villages dotting the way - and the bus seems to stop at every single village.

The journey to Porto from Santiago is another three hours. When I left Finisterre I decided to spend three days in Santiago, celebrating with friends who I’d met along the way. I was actually surprised to see so many! I was expecting three, maybe four, but I kept running into people.

The numb feeling I felt, when I first arrived in Santiago, went away when I saw my first friend - Sarah from Lichtenstein!

Okay - it didn’t go completely away. I still felt like an observer. But I at least felt like I had accomplished something monumentous this time.

Unfortunately the Pilgrim office in Santiago didn’t think so.

I knew the rules had changed in getting a Compostela. You have to walk 100km of any route and then the last 25km into Santiago. I didn’t realise it was the same for the distance certificate. They refused to give me a distance certificate, saying my Camino was not over. Pfft. Little do they know. As my friend Lindsay reminded me, your Camino does not end in Santiago (despite what the Catholic Church tells you) and I believe that wholeheartedly. While I’m disappointed, I have my credential with all the stamps. I’m good with that. I know how far I walked - it was a bloody long way!

Anyway … the celebrations were great. A lot of wine. Some okay food - although the crepes we found at 10pm the night before I left were pretty good… and there were lots of hugs and laughter. I saw Ulf from Sweden/France, Tom from Scotland, the ‘girls’ from Australia whom I’d met in Castrojeriz. Sarah, as mentioned. And I met Steve, but not Cecelia, from the U.K. Sadly Cecelia was in hospital with a mystery illness and at one point, she kicked Steve out with instructions to find me and drink some wine. I’m never one to disobey an order that makes complete sense - and help them out - so Sarah and I distracted Steve for a bit with wine and a curry. Now that was a good night! The good news is Cecelia is now out of hospital. She was determined to walk the last distance to the Cathedral and so Steve sent me picts of their moment. She’s a feisty one!

Then it was deciding where to go next, after Santiago. I was tempted to stick around and celebrate with Steve and Cecelia, but at that point we didn’t know what was going on, and I didn’t want to get in their way either. Sarah was heading off the following day so I thought ‘where is easy and cheap and interesting’. Hmm… Porto.

When I walked the Camino in 2019 with my husband, I had fallen down some wet steps in an albergue in O Pedrouzo. Afterwards I couldn’t sit or lay down. All I could do was walk. After trying to rest for a few days in Muxia, we ended up going to Porto and there we did a lot of walking. We saw all the sights. We played tourist the entire time.

This time, I wandered. I found a few things that I needed for my week in Finistere - a book to read (I would have bought two but options were limited of English books and I’d read most of them). I bought a pencil and sketch pad. I also bought some new sunglasses, because the ones I brought with me snapped somewhere on the meseta. To be quite honest, it was nice to just wander without an agenda or a ‘must see’ list.

This time of year, Porto is packed. It’s summer in Portugal. Porto is a beautiful city, even in the highly touristed spots. The tile work on the buildings is incredible. The stone work on the pavements are intricate and creative. (I felt guilty walking on them!)

The public transport though? That was a shitshow. Getting from the bus station to my accomodation should have taken an hour. It took two. Nothing was signed properly. Nothing worked properly. Construction got in the way of a lot. There were major roadworks right outside of the São Bento station which disrupted a lot around the area.

But the people watching.. that was fascinating.

I stayed in a hostel this time - I had a private room and it was fabulous. The room was huge and comfortable, with easy access to the shared bathroom. It even had an old fashioned lift to get up to the fifth floor where I was staying - thank goodness. My knees are tired.

The common room was filled with a mix of pilgrims and young adults doing their ‘gap year’. Watching the interactions was worth the cost of a glass of wine and a corner chair. Some people asked me about my travels and were shocked to hear I’d just finished walking the Camino Frances. (In Porto, most people walking are just starting out, walking one of the shorter Portuguese routes.) I didn’t tell them I only walked 550km of it - I figure my previous Caminos qualifies me to skip that fact.

But it wasn’t just the hostel common room that I found curious - I found myself sitting at tables in cafes for hours. There were so many nationalities walking around, and you could almost pick them by what they wore and how they interacted.

The Portuguese are well dressed like the Spanish - women wear their bold red lipsticks and multitudes of gold jewellery here - but they don’t scream at each other when they are chatting away non-stop to each other (like the Spanish do.)

The Americans all speak loudly as well, carrying their maps (either the digital ones on their phones, or the tourist maps given out a hotels), and all wear baseball caps - or Australian Akubras. Surprisingly, when I saw two different couples, wearing akubras and being mistaken as Australian, they all seemed offended (um…)

The Germans just don’t care who is on the footpath - they expect everyone to get out of their way - and give you death stares if you don’t move. And the Italians just like to smoke, not caring who is around (or eating).

And the Australians? We just look like dags… who want to be well dressed like the Europeans but somehow struggle to pull it off. (Or am I projecting?) Ah… Europe.

Now, it’s on to the beach for a week in Finisterre. Today is the long day of travel. I left the hostel this morning at 6.30 for the bus, and I’ll get into Finisterre around 4. That’s a lot of time on a bus. Two buses actually. This second bus is full of pilgrims either hobbling and coughing … lovely.

Of course, it’s raining and foggy in Finisterre - and I love that. I love walking in this kind of weather and I find the seaside fascinating when it’s like this. It also means I can be indoors and write and not get distracted by outdoor cafes! I have enough notes now to write more than one book - I may even think about another thriller while I’m here. I should probably finish this next one first…

Steps: Far too many

Distance: I have been averaging around 6 km a day - and that doesn’t count the hills!

Feeling: Guilty from eating too many pastel de natas (Portuguese tarts) but looking forward to being back in Spain - as I keep messing up my VERY limited Portuguese and speaking Spanish! I’m sure they LOVE that - not.