Spanish views from a small town

Thinking about Holy Week ahead has got me into thinking about where I want to go. Of course, it is very likely we're going nowhere, because the probability is high they'll lock us in our townships during that week. I understand, but frustration is building within me. The last time I went out and about to a special place was last June, when I went to Puebla de Sanabria, in Zamora. Since then, I really haven't travelled except around here, and to the Costa da Morte in September, with my husband.  Even if we're not locked into our townships, we will be locked into our region, so I won't be able to leave Galicia. Perhaps I would go down to the farthest point of Ourense, or the easternmost point of Lugo, or just wander about at a whim. If these had been normal times, I would probably go down to Portugal; I haven't been since April of 2019, at least. Or maybe Asturias or I would return to the province of Zamora. Perhaps, I would go down to Ponferrada, and O Bierzo. It...

There are some very strange people out there. Or, people that are so happy-go-lucky that you wonder how they happen to survive in this crazy world. Our daughter has the morning shift this week, so this afternoon, after cleaning up and eating lunch, she went to the beach with a friend. This week, warm temperatures are back. There, they made the acquaintance of a woman who had simply decided to cool down from the heat by stopping by the beach. She had a large duffel bag with her, and explained that she was looking for the village of Abuín, and the beach As Cunchas. She had come all the way from somewhere near Durango, in Euskadi, just to surprise her daughter and her daughter's father.  My daughter explained how to get to Abuín, and the woman decided to chat with them a bit. She told the two friends that her trip had lasted two days, travelling by different buses and Blah-Blah cars. She had no idea exactly where her daughter lived, just the reference of the beach As Cunchas in Abuín....

Though the moments of greater travel were last week as people scrambled to be home with family for Christmas, there are still people travelling home for the New Year. My brother-in-law and his girls came to spend that holiday with the grandparents. We went to pick them up at the airport last night. Theirs was the last flight into Santiago for the night. As we awaited them, others arrived through the door. The first one out was a youngish woman. She walked up to an older man and a little boy and a big smile lit up her face when she saw the boy's reaction. Another woman, close to her in age, shouted, "No!" She backed away, then ran into the traveller's arms, and the two engaged in a prolonged bear hug. Apparently, the traveller and the man who seemed to be her father had made her believe they were awaiting someone else. It was a surprise that made many around them smile in complicity. Others started straggling out. Some were older couples, who appeared through the d...

We drove our daughter to her student apartment this afternoon, like every Sunday. Just outside Santiago, on the road to Noia, there was a young woman with a sign that said "Noia". Every time a car went by she held up the sign, looking for a charitable soul. After we had dropped off our daughter we went back along the same road, and she was still there, only a little further on towards her destination. We decided to be the charitable souls and go out of our way home. We stopped for her and put her backpack, tent, and sleeping bag in the trunk. She was young, in her twenties and very pretty. Her final destination was Finisterre, and if she couldn't hitchhike all the way, she would walk. She had already walked the Way of Santiago three times from France. Once, she had continued the Way to Finisterre, where the pilgrims originally used to end their pilgrimage by the lighthouse. That time, the last time, she had remained three months in the town, working at a café to earn so...