Camino: day 6
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Camino: day 6

Tags
Camino-ish
Date
Jul 7, 2025
Average sleep in an average hotel in Vigo. Shame, the place is cute and has facilitated what we needed: a place to chill on Sunday evening and sleep - but wow it was hot last night. Currently in the breakfast room with some Spanish home makeover show playing on full blast, vibes are weird. The coffee from a vending machine thingy is pretty good. I forgive you Hotel Celta.
 
The variance in accommodation for roughly the same price has been really fascinating. It’s kind of like a lucky packet. You’re either getting bed bugs and a dorm room or beautiful views and an en suite for exactly the same amount of money. Keeps every night interesting. I wonder what will happen as we get closer to Santiago?
 
Side rant here. Why do the Portuguese and Spanish love small yappy dogs so much? The dog pictured below was literally one of maybe seven medium or large sized dogs we have seen.
 
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We walk out the hotel and through the streets of Vigo - which have woken up after the deserted Sunday. It’s mostly a walk along one of the arterial roads, lined with shops; we walk shoulder to shoulder with the Monday morning characters of Vigo. The highlights are:
  1. Fast walking slightly disheveled man with a duck walk and a cough from hell
  1. Old man on a motorized wheelchair: decorated with a spinning sunflower on the front, umbrella, radio blaring a local station and what looked like a medical kit strapped to the back
 
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We leave the city and begin climbing a few big hills through the suburbs. It was fairly tough and we were nearing the top. As the end was in sight we heard a “hey” shouted at us, an angry looking man got up off his step and walked into the street towards us. Without the slightest hind of any facial expression he presents us four plums. We thank him and he walks back to his perch on the front step, awaiting the next unsuspecting pilgrim.
 
Cait makes a concerted effort to get up close and personal with ever flower she sees.
 
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The coastal route converges with the central Camino route now and we see many more pilgrims. There’s a wavy line painted on the side of the lane like a cycle lane, dedicated for the pilgrims.
 
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The tar road ends and we enter what feels like the new lands forest jeep track. A dirt road with shady tree canopy envelops us and the mottled sunshine dances around us.
 
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The other day we reflected on the fact that on the Camino it might be the only place where all tourists greet one another in the local language. Even if both parties aren’t Spanish or Portuguese speaking they will wave Ola or Hola at one another.
 
Bless ChatGPT honestly. It’s been the most incredible tool to travel with:
  1. Take a photo of a menu, ask it to translate and suggest a meal
  1. Ask it to find places to sleep tonight
  1. Send a photo of something, tell it where you are and ask it what is in the photo: turns out there were muscle farms floating in the bay of Vigo.
 
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We hit tar road again and see a spray painted advertisement: “cafe 500m”. They had cornered the market. We are lured in by music; sexy acoustic covers of pop songs, to join several other pilgrims enjoying a great meal with a view. It was cheap, tasty and filling. They had a feisty cat.
 
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We make it into Redodela and navigate the streets to our Albergue (hostel). Inside its carnage: sleeping people at 2pm (too early for a siesta), people applying plasters and general exhaustion. They’re all pilgrims and it makes us feel rather good about our condition.
 
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We make a quick turnaround and walk off to the beach. A quick stop at a supermarket for snacks (best nectarines ever). The beach is in an estuary so quite rocky and full of sea weed. We take a walk further on where we see more people; it’s a good call.
 
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The (small) dog belonging to the person sitting next to us befriends us. The swim is lovely yet the 5pm heat (which turns out to be heat of the day) defeats us and we head off for a beer at a bar down the beach.
 
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Crush some admin: home affairs for Cait’s passport renewal, book a flight and accommodation for Cait’s week while I’m in the mountains. All the while the most disjointed playlist bares on: Brazilian rap, Lady Gaga, Pink Floyd, Celtic folk amongst local stuff. It’s 8:30pm and feels like midday - wild.
 
Beautiful romantic dinner under the gape vines. Scallops were my favorite, appropriate as they are symbol of the pilgrims to Santiago.
 
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Lying in bed in the crowded Albergue. Cait in the bunk below me, a snoring man near my foot. We’ve done well to save costs by staying at a few hostels, but I think this is the last one for me. I don’t want to have to whisper at night, I want to celebrate the day.