Camino de Muxía, Etapa 4, A Grixa to Muxía, 26.3 kilometers*

*The distance between A Grixa to Muxía is 15.4 kilometers but I walked around town and out to the Santuario de la Virgen de la Barca twice. Just want to set the record straight for any fact-checkers reading this.

Inspired by Gary P. Nunn’s, “What I Like About Texas,” I recorded these thoughts while walking this morning between A Grixa and Quintáns (4.1 kilometers), What I Like About Galicia:

50 shades of green, towering trees, multi-colored valleys, fresh cut hay, weepy skies, the fragrant broom plant, handmade café americano and napolitana de chocolate, the awakening birds, the awakening farmer with no urgency to start the day, the smell of the eucalyptus, and the occasional pine, up one hill and down another, and still another and another, the granite-walled homes of hospitality, the stonewall lined path with a hospitality of their own, and imagining the hands that toiled, and coffee brown plowed fields, and the glistening dew on knee-high grass, and the sun like the farmer in no rush to start the day.

As much as I enjoyed the forest walk this morning, my goal was Muxía on the Atlantic coast. It didn’t take long this morning to smell the saltwater breeze and the faint tides crashing the shore. Still, the ocean didn’t come into view until I was near Muxía, and I wasn’t walking on the beach until the last 2 kilometers into town.

There are a lot of beautiful things to see while walking along the ways to Santiago, but it’s often the people encountered that make the memorable experiences. This morning, I had fun exchanges on the walk with a South African couple that I’d shared the path over the last 2 days. In Os Muiños, I spent time at O Refuxio and some good people building a faith-based hospitality center there. In Muxía, I befriended Aberto, an Italian from Milan. We explored the town together.

The Albergue Bela Muxía was the cherry on top of the cake. First, it was the layout, the most efficient and comfortable of any shared sleeping place I’ve hung my hat. More importantly, though, was the hospitality. The couple that ran the albergue was friendly and engaged with the pilgrims from the moment they checked-in until lights out, they knew how to host. For example…

I was hungry in the mid-afternoon, too late for lunch and way too early for a Spanish dinner. I went to the vending machine in the spacious dining room for a KitKat™ bar. I fed the machine 1 euro and the bar dropped. As soon as I grabbed my candy bar, the matriarch of the albergue appeared behind me and asked what I was doing. I told her I was hungry and needed a snack. She took the KitKat™ from my hand and said she had soup for me. I protested, just a little, and she grabbed me by the shoulders and guided me into a seat at the end of the dining room. She still had my KitKat™. She disappeared and soon reappeared with a heaping bowl of lentejas and two pieces of fresh rye bread!! She placed the bowl in front of me and said:

“Cuando estás en casa, comes la sopa.” (When you’re at home, you eat the soup.)

I learned that afternoon soup was a normal practice at Bela Muxía, a reminder that there are still good places on the earth. In case you’re wondering, she returned the KitKat™ after I finished the good bowl.

After dinner, Aberto and I walked out of town to the hill above the Santuario de la Virgen de la Barca to watch the sunset over the Atlantic. Turns out we weren’t the only opacarophiles on the peninsula, sunset lovers were scattered across the big hill, but not too closely. There seemed to be an inherent respect for the solitude needed at a place like this.

The sun, as normal practice, did not disappoint.