After a little bit of research, I learned that the best way to get myself to Santiago is not via Palas De Rei (which, from the Primitivo, means a lengthy and unlovely stretch por carretera), but rather to continue on the Primitivo through the mountains, through tiny poblaciones, to the city of Melide (where I am right now, using the free computer room en la biblioteca).

Yesterday was knockout beautiful: I was camped a little ways outside the city of Lugo in the churchyard of Santo Mathías, stopped at the wonderfully kind bar in Burgo for mi desayuno, and kept walking another 30-some kilometers through incredible hills and mountains and villages until I reached the town of Merlán, up in the mountains some 12 km outside of Melide. I was almost out of water, and on the lookout for a fuente, or a brook, or a friendly-looking house where I could fill my water bottles before camping out for the night.

Well, I walked up to a ramshackle little house, with chickens and dogs in the front yard, and a big rainbow flag saying PEACE, and a promising looking faucet. I asked if I could grab some water, and of course I could, and before I knew it, I was inside drinking rooibos tea, looking through the Nomad Log, the pilgrim´s logbook that Mapi keeps. Because, as it turns out, this was la casa de Mapi (Maria Pilar)--a rather under-the-radar refugio (I had no idea it existed unti I walked up to it). So here I am in this incredible little off-the-grid house, with a generator and a woodstove, nothing more than a single room, a kitchen, and a loft, and--as it tends to do in Galicia--it starts to rain. And I am offered dinner, and a shower, and a place to sleep in the loft. And I settle myself down to contribute some poems to the Nomad Log (and a four leaf clover). I slept warm and safe and dry and happy. I woke up late, after a late night of wine and music while waiting for the chicken to cook (yes, chicken for supper--my vegan morals have flown the coop). Un montón de gracias a Mapi y Andrés para una noche inolvidable.

All in all, an incredible night. Magic happens on the Camino, as long as you let it. I don´t plan my days. I don´t carry I guidebook. I follow the flechas and the conchas. I trust myself, and I trust each day to unfold as it is meant to. It´s worked for the past four weeks, and I suspect it´ll carry me through another two days.