We need to talk about cows

León, Castilla, and Galicia is dairy country here in Spain so there are cows everywhere.

I wish technology has made it so that I could transmit the scents that a high bovine population avails us of but alas, it has not. Shall I describe? I shall.

There’s the typical cow shit, of course. We all know that one. It’s pervasive. It hangs in the air like light posts. You think, “Is it my shoes?” But it’s usually not the shoes. It’s just there, ever present. (That’s not to say that our shoes—and walking poles—aren’t biohazards, because they definitely are. There is cow shit e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e.)

We saw someone’s laundry hanging out to dry in Fonfria, a hamlet that is one part hotel and one part cheese making center of activity. We couldn’t help but wonder what that clean laundry ended up smelling like after airing out among the cow essence. I mean, why bother?

Then there are the cheese factories that we have had the pleasure to walk by. Their scent falls somewhere between sweet and rancid, like rotting fruits and vegetables but it’s animal by-product. Is it cheese, or is it mold? They’ll never tell.

The cows themselves are cute but mostly indifferent to the pilgrims and all have refused to respond to my entreaties to moo. Heifers.

I don’t think I will miss the cows of Spain. I definitely won’t miss walking through cow shit. And my age-related lactose intolerance has made it so I can’t even appreciate the cheese the region is famous for. I ordered a cheese board last week in Cacabelos and lived to regret it.Leia mais