For most of the morning I walked along cliffs overlooking the Atlantic, but the majority of the afternoon walk was along the shoulder of a highway. I walked part of the way with an older woman from Berlin named Zabina and an Austrian PhD student named Daniella. My feet are starting to feel the miles and I’m still learning how to treat the aches and blisters. Tomorrow when they start to really ache I will switch from hiking boots to running shoes and see if that helps.
Tonight I’m staying at an albergue in Llanes, a coastal town with a population of 4,000 or so (which is big compared to most of the villages that the Camino passes through). The albergue is connected to the train station in Llanes (hence the name, “Albergue Estacion”) and there are a few older French men staying in the room with me. They and many others I’ve met harbor the typical European disdain for Americans, although they’re still kind. I suppose we Americans have earned it, but it’s annoying to already be seen as a stereotype before I’ve even introduced myself. I suppose that feeling is ~.0001% of what it’s like to experience real racism, although I would never claim to know what that is like.
Some more fun pics:
A hodgepodge for dinner, including some of the region’s famous cider (“sidra”) which I didn’t particularly enjoy. Must be an acquired taste.