Three times today I got hopelessly lost in Melide. Three times an old man appeared wearing a brown sweater, a beret type cap, using a cane. Each time, he'd walk directly up to me and say, "A Santiago?" To Santiago? Each time, I'd say, "Si." He'd then point me in the right direction and walk away. This happened in three completely different areas of the city. Where did he come from? How did he know I was lost? Why did he choose to help me? Hmmm. Camino magic at work once again, I guess.
Yesterday I stopped a little short of my goal. Partly because my heels were hurting from the hills (again). Partly because I was freezing, and I just couldn't get warm. And partly because I was having a hard time finding a place to stay since I'd moved up my arrival in Palas de Rei. Walking fewer kilometers yesterday meant I had to make them up today. It was a little more flat, but still a long day. I'm hoping these feet of mine survive the final 50 km. I'm almost there. Then I can give them a break on a beach at an all-inclusive resort, while sipping port wine, in Portugal. Hopefully that's incentive enough to convince them I need them to last for just a few more days.
Any additional prayers and "heel"ing would be appreciated. They haven't hurt this bad since Burgos.