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  • Day 10

    Pinch me: Vilar de Mouros

    May 9, 2023 in Portugal ⋅ ☀️ 21 °C

    I mean…how is this place even real?

    I’m what they call “off stage”, about 2 miles from the Camino at a centuries old mill, on a river, with a water wheel…that works. If Snow White danced by singing with a couple of fat bluebirds, I wouldn’t blink.

    I booked a two-day stay here back before I even had blisters. I am not leaving early. Every inch of Azenha Tio Luis (Uncle Luis’ Mill) is beautiful and peaceful.

    Yesterday, I just wandered around the property. It’s nowhere near a restaurant, and the one place that delivers was holding an event. So I ate a protein bar and an apple. I was worn out. Once the sun goes down I caught up on “Succession.” Shiv and Tom are a match made in hell, don’t you think?

    Day two, I have to force myself to be still. This takes doing, as I’m not much of a sit-in-the-beach-chair type to begin with. I’m also still on Camino time. I feel like I’ve lost my groove. My foot still hurts, so I try a soak in the healing waters of Coura River, which is pretty much my back yard. And did I mention there’s a water wheel?

    The river is lined with sparkling, water-smoothed rocks. I collect a bunch. I find one that looks like a rough heart. “Hi, Baby.” Put it in my pocket with the others, then plunge my feet into the just-right cold of the river. It’s a good day.

    Then comes an authentic Portuguese dish of salt cod and potatoes, called bacalhua. The four other diners from Taiwan aren’t very friendly, but I’ve already made friends with Rosio, the caretaker, and her husband Juan. Their 4-year-old daughter, Anna, is bopping around.

    “Could Miss Anna perhaps have dessert with me,” I ask.

    “Es timido,” Rosio replies.

    Shy? Challenge accepted.

    By the end of the evening, Emma has given me a Spanish language refresher (I remember tenedor (fork), but not spoon (cuchara). I also get a mini ballet recital that consists mostly of skipping and spinning with a finale’ featuring the splits. Rosario tells me Emma wants me to braid her hair.

    Challenge accomplished.

    On my final morning, Juan is going to drive me the 2 miles back to the Camino. Rosario doesn’t want me to walk on my foot, even though it’s better. I have been adopted.

    “Tienes un corazon linda,” she says as I leave Azhena Tio Luis, where I have seen no hint of any uncle or guy named Luis.

    One of the things I’m learning from the Camino is that, yeah, I do have a good heart, and it’s not something to hide or apologize for.

    Rosio and I say goodbye, and I ride with Juan to the rejoin the Camino. He and Rosario are from Argentina. He was in administration there. Now , he works at the mill house with Rosario and also fixes boats. It’s better here than Argentina, he says, but they are hoping to move to Spain next year to improve their salaries. They are the quintessential young family: working hard and hoping for a better future.

    Everything about these two days - the beautiful grounds, the tootsie dip in the cool river, playing with Emma, and feeling the love of her parents - has restored me. It’s not The Camino, but it fits perfectly for My Camino.
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