It was party time outside my hotel window last night. The waiter at dinner told me it was a festival to bring more tourism in before the slow season, and folks were tying one on! I put my earplugs in and got some good sleep despite the band practically playing right outside the door.

The hotel didn’t serve breakfast until late, this being a weekend and all, so I walked a few steps towards a main street and found an open cafe and plenty of other pilgrims fueling up for the day. I exchanged hellos with a group from Croatia and devoured yet another new pastry.

I had a choice between the coastal route, which stayed inland, or the cultural route that went to the coast. Ironic, no? I would have my first 15-mile day if I kept to the yellow line, so decided to stay true to the coastal line (which meant not walking along the coast) confused yet? The big question was how my body would do with 15 miles. There was only one way to find out.

All morning, I played spy the yellow arrow; some were much more obvious than others. Can you see it here?

Or here?

For days, the arrows have reminded me of the scene in Labrynth where Jennifer Connely drew arrows on the cobblestones with lip stick, and some naughty goblins would immediately turn them around the other way. Could I trust these arrows?

My lower back has started to protest, so I walk carefully and slowly to keep it happy. I’m glad I brought some biofreeze and have started to take some pain meds when it really starts to make life uncomfortable.

It was very misty and humid all morning, and I walked alone with my thoughts in and around the neighborhoods. Then, the way transitioned into eucalyptus lined paths, and the air smelled devine. I’ll be in Spain tomorrow already! The days are moving right along, and I’m doing my best to stay present.

When I turned a corner around lunchtime and found the most charming garden cafe, I just had to stop. It was by far the most pleasant oasis I’ve seen on the trip. I ordered a green tea and salad and was pleasantly surprised to get a tomato and quinoa salad. Tables were in short supply, so I offered to share mine with a couple from Norway.

After that, I continued walking on my own. It was a day of walking without thinking… a walking meditation. Sure, the time outside here allows for a deep dive into all your problems, but being present to the cobblestones under your feet, the yellow arrows marking the way, the breeze cooling your skin, has a way of making those problems seem less pressing. You can think about them another day… or maybe not at all! It was a wonderful afternoon.

When I got to the town of Lagarteria, people were amassing, and I spotted Bill and Michelle at a café, so I worked my way over to them for a beer and a visit. Michelle voiced just what I had been thinking about. This was her first long walk, and she thought she’d get her life sorted out here with all the hours in the day to mull over her issues, but she hadn’t. It was enough to just walk. I expect the subconscious does work on your problems while your awareness is distracted by the mouth feel of another pastry, or when you stop to smell the heather that lines the path, but even if it doesn’t, what a blessed break from having to think all the time. You can be. You can simply be.

Back to the town…it seemed that a festival of sorts was under way, and later after we parted ways it appeared we were walking down a path of people lined up for a parade, and the parade wasn’t us, so we quickly hopped off the street. I lingered, and soon I saw a marching band come by. It was pretty cool!

I continued on to find a full blown carnival happening. Maybe this was the same celebration from last night’s city? It probably had something to do with a church holiday. Someone handed me a pamphlet, but my paltry Portuguese didn’t clear up the mystery.

I walked a few more miles back on the ocean and spied Adrian and Ignacio on a break. We were all tired from our day, so we only chatted for a few minutes before I left them and walked a little farther to the hostel.

Turns out i had booked a room in a private house again, but it was a separate apartment with two other pilgrims and myself. We each had our own room. What a nice surprise! And there was a washing machine, so i took advantage of it for the first time on the trip. Fresh clothes for me tomorrow!

While resting my sore back on the heating pad, I read a devastating article about the uptick in lung cancer in young women who had never smoked, and it took my breath away. It’s easy to forget my Stage 4 status when I’m doing things like this – even when there are constant reminders like the ache in my back and my neck scar. I still can’t believe it is happening to me, even after all I have been through this year.


I ate dinner on the beach in a little cafe and indulged in pasta and shrimp…this whole trip feels like quite the indulgence and my body and mind are waking to it. I mentioned to a few friends before I started this journey that it feels like my body is turning on again. That I didn’t know aspects were gone until they came back…definitely the joy found in food fits in here. I was nauseous or had no appetite for most of this year, but now I do have a bit of a sweet tooth again and really savor food. Ok, sure, part of that may be driven by the hunger of walking every day for a week now, but it had started before the trip. Then there is my skin. It is softer than I remember it being in a long time. I’m taking hormones now, and I think it’s bringing moisture, fullness, and life into what had become dry and brittle skin without me realizing it. Im turning on! I’m coming back to life! What a fabulous feeling it is…to be alive.