Just before leaving Melide I must tell you it's claim to fame. The town has a reputation for the finest Octopus restaurants, or pulperrias, in Spain and The Garnacha is supposedly the best in the town. Galicia also has a very strong association with bagpipes. I'm afraid you Scotts don't have exclusive bragging rights on this peice of musical equipment!

Only 8.8 miles today, which I was quite pleased about as my toes were still giving me a lot of grief. The going was, as on most days, undulating, with the occasional steep bits to get you blowing a bit, but with an improving weather picture today was a reasonably pleasant stroll through pine and eucalyptus scented woods, small streams, all punctuated by small farms with their associated animal smells, and picturesque hamlets.

Sorry sideways again!  Are you diggin' the sock action? LOL  :-)

It was through one such hamlet that I espied a sign in a garden saying, 'Jonny English's Place' and as I paused for a moment to wonder who resided at such an abode, a chap in his early 40's, well-tanned with longish curly hair greeted me with a friendly smile and an,"Alright mate?" Somehow sensing I too was English. We fell into conversation and it transpired that he was a work obsessed under pressure electrical project manager working over in Germany with his wife and 2 daughters in tow, until he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He discussed his worries with a friend who suggested he needed to unplug (forgive the pun!) and do the Camino. So he did the full 800 kms Camino and it affected him so much that he ended up buying the place outside which we were standing. He now survives by doing just enough electrical contracts to keep his head above water and being an unofficial aubergue, where people can stay for free, but he's always grateful for any contribution peregrinos are prepared to make, and if they have no money they often perform various household chores to earn their keep! The upshot of it all was that he'd never felt so happy and contented as he did now. The problem with 'Jonny' or Sean (his real name) was, in keeping with the 'English' surname he'd adopted, he could indeed talk for England! In the end I had to interupt his friendly banter with, "Well I must be getting on". Otherwise I'm convinced I'm convinced he would have been happy to chat until the sun went down!

I arrived at 'The Way' hostel in Azuria (that's a lovely name don't you think? Should be by the coast somewhere!) just before 1pm and being somewhat early the dorms weren't yet ready so I sat at the bar with a cafe con leche (coffee with milk) and got chatting to another chap who'd also arrived early. His name was John and he hailed from Londonderry in Northern Ireland. I'd say he was in his mid-forties, almost bald but with the lightest green eyes I'd ever seen! I would say John was not your typical pilgrim. Again, I know one shouldn't stereotype, but would you say someone who drives diggers, is a crane operator, builds large scale concrete constructions would be a keen walker? Well John was; he'd already completed the Camino Frances a couple of years ago and this time he was doing the Camino Norte (the one I think I mentioned earlier that follows the northern coast of Spain). 

By the time we'd finished chatting quite a few other walkers had arrived, one of whom tapped me on the shoulder saying,"Excuse me, but were you on the free waliking tour in Madrid a couple of weeks ago?" A dark haired man in his mid-thirties with a beard, who I didn't recognise, was in front of me. I answered in the affimative and to my absolute amazement it transpired that Stelios (Greek father, English mother) remembered me, as I was talking to the Madrid guide at some length about the rivaly between Real and Atletico Madrid, and being keen on football himself (Chelsea FC supporter), somehow my face had stuck in his mind. So think about it. He left Madrid the day after that tour to start his Camino some 200 kms back down the trail. Then by coincidence we both arrive in Azuria on the same day and by even more of an incredible coincidence we both have booked the same accommodation in Azuria, bearing in mind that I would estimate that there were at least another 30 to 40 hostels he could have ended up in!

Little toes still bruised and throbbing as I stepped out of the hostel that evening I'd made a decision to hobble to the very nearest restaurant and thankfully there across the way, no more than 50 yards away was a Pizzeria. As soon as I walked in their was navvie John together with Kim and Jim, an English couple who were also doing the Camino Norte. I felt like the odd Peregrino out but they insisted I join them as they'd already ordered 2 large pizzas and there would be plenty for all. What they didn't tell me was that one of them was an octopus pizza! And sure enough there were the bits of chopped up tentacles scattered all over the base all with their little suckers looking up at me! But then I thought, come on Dave you've never tried it so give it a go. To my surprise it wasn't too bad, a little bit rubbery for my liking but with the lashings of melted cheese on top it was definitely edible, especially when accompanied by copius amounts of Rioja!

Back at the hostel I settled down in my palatial dorm ( this one had top and bottom sheets as well as a substantial duvet to throw over the top). There were only 3 other occupants in my room, all of whom were women, as indeed, the case had been the previous night. There's not many men who can say they've slept with 6 women one night after the other! :-)