Day 32 - Palas de Reí to Castaneda (23km)

Today I have been walking for a month.

We set off at 8.30am this morning in the rain after we had all met for coffee in a small bar near the hotel. It was nice to get a lie in this morning after the last few days and it was also nice to have some clean clothes to wear; Robin had kindly got some of mine and Gale's laundered at her albergue last night.

Although we followed the occasional road it was a largely pleasant walk through the countryside: oak and eucalyptus woods, pasture and small villages. We arrived at the relatively large town of Melide where we had lunch in a 'pulperia' or octopus restaurant before pressing on to our destination today,

Castaneda. The guidebook suggested the town of Ribadiso three kilometres further on but with the numbers of people on the route and the seemingly small size of the town we thought we would stop earlier. Of the two places in this tiny hamlet the first albergue had only one bed (we were after seven) but the Camino definitely provided in the second: we have a seven bed house all to ourselves with kitchen and lounge and two bathrooms all for less than €20 a head. We went back to the albergue for dinner - it is the only place to eat here - where our €10 pilgrim menu provided a substantial three course meal plus three bottles of wine and after-dinner liquors.

Despite the pleasant walk we are all having trouble coming to terms with the numbers now on the route. Some of the stories I hear are in the spirit of the Camino: yesterday I spoke to an older Irish women who had got a group together and arranged the trip as a retirement present for their parish priest. But generally things seem different now: groups with corporate-like identity cards hanging round their necks, their lanyards woven with business-like tag-lines ('Be bold: be Catholic') to me identify more with each other than the Camino and everybody on it. Then there are the group coaches and taxis on standby, there it seems to help the flagging pilgrim move ahead, to get their 'stamps' and to make it to Santiago for their ‘Compostella'. I wrote previously about the enjoyment of the journey and not the destination but here and now, with all these people, the reverse seems to be true. And the impression of things having changed isn’t helped by the number of Camino trinket and souvenir stalls and shops you see, something thankfully lacking in the last month of walking. It all seems more exploitative somehow and even the 'Buen Caminos', as I said yesterday, seem less heartfelt and meaningful. As Gale put it as we chatted over the matter: 'I almost feel like I’m back in the real world'.

I try not to be judgemental - each to themselves their own Camino - but it’s not an unusual feeling it seems. Friends who have done the complete walk have mentioned it and graffiti such as ‘Jesus did not walk from Sarria' (although I’m pretty sure from what I learned at Sunday School he didn’t do any of the Camino!) underline the less private view of some. And what surprises me in part is that it is even important to me. Why do I feel as if these people have intruded on my own private experience and those of my friends? And why should I care anyway? Maybe the Camino has affected me more than I realise....