Our walk today brought us by a hidden church nestled in the bright green Galician forests. I thought the church seemed out of place when I first saw it after rounding the corner; the trail lined with dense trees- trunks blanketed in vines and fiddlehead ferns uncurling for summer. But after walking around the aged building it became apparent to me that the church was as familiar with this forest as any of the trees in it. The walls housed old lichen families and insect communities. The cross with Mary and Jesus was covered in nearly enough moss to blend in with its surroundings. It was a sacred place, no doubt: honoring both human-bodied holiness and earth-bodied holiness alike.
The previous evening, as us 5 pilgrims were strolling through town with hungry bellies, we went into a modern-looking burger place. We asked in broken spanish what time they opened, and the owner warmly replied that it was his day off and he was just in to prepare food for the next day. He started proudly talking about his food, and without a hesitation he offered to open his restaurant just for the 5 of us. We all returned at 7 and walked into the place which was filled with the sounds of purple Purple Rain. We sat in a row at the bar and he smiled at us saying, “but first, we sing”. We all chimed in for the chorus before ordering delicious burgers. He told us that he had to quit his other job due to a stroke, and had been slowly remembering how to speak english and spanish and use his body. He continued chatting us up throughout dinner and cracking a smile when we would sing along to his 80s rock and roll playlist. After dinner he insisted on shots for us on the house and a picture before saying goodbye only until our return the next morning for breakfast. His welcoming, caring spirit is exactly the type of thing that makes the camino what it is.
