Camino de Santiago - 2026

Another post I'm not sure how to best write, another instance of what seems to be legitimate Camino magic(?), another incredible day.

Casa Peltre is the albergue I stayed at while in Sarria. This is where I was taking a rest day and staying for 2 nights, so that I would sync back up with the rest of my prebooked accommodation, as I was running a day ahead of schedule. Laid out in a beautiful old house, the place is run by a man named Manuel. Upon check-in, it was clear that Manuel didn't speak a lick of English, and seemed a bit on the brusque side, but we completed the transaction, he showed me to my bed, and I settled in.

The next morning, I remained in bed as the room stirred around me, pilgrims bustling to hit the trail. Slowly, the place emptied. I got up, to a blissfully quiet building, washed my hair in the lovely full bathroom (no cubicle, luxury), and, with nothing better to do and a general obsession with tidiness, I decided to start cleaning up. I stripped the beds, collecting all the sheets in a neat pile. I folded all the blankets. I went upstairs and put away the bench full of drying dishes. I washed the dishes that had been neglected. I wiped down the benches and the dining table. I emptied the rubbish bin. It felt good to do normal household chores, strangely, and it was peaceful to just quietly work. Manuel joined me partway through this process, seeming a bit bemused and mildly entertained by my efforts but made no attempt to tell me to stop faffing around and get out of the way, so I continued. He vacuumed, mopped, and cleaned the bathrooms, and I eventually nestled back into my bunk.

As he was finishing up, he speaks to me across the room, none of which I can understand of course, but it sounds like a question and I hear the word for coffee. Is he asking me if I drink coffee? Would I like coffee? I nod, "si...", and he beckons me to follow. He takes me outside, and without a word, I'm following him down the street to a cafe, he's buying me coffee! Manuel 🥹

We sit, sipping our cafe con leche, unable to have any kind of conversation, just looking around together, people watching. Eventually I think to use Google translate on my phone, to make some small talk. I thank him for the coffee, tell him his albergue is beautiful, and mention the reason I'm staying 2 nights is because I skipped the previous town (Samos) but would like to go back one day because I was sad to not see the famous monastery there. He nods, "si, si", and I catch key words that tell me he's been there many times, it's beautiful, and something about his family. We continue a bit of technology assisted chat and then stroll our way together back to the albergue, where we part.

Soon after, he comes and finds me and presents me with a postcard. On the front is a very old photograph of the Samos monastery, with some children posed in front. Again, straining very hard for key words, I work out that one of those children is his grandfather. He gives me the postcard to keep, and I notice it has a four leaf clover sticky taped to the back. Manuel 🥹 Again, we part, and I am already melting with affection for the quiet kindness of this man.

The day wears on, and after a look around town and some lunch, I spend some time relaxing on my bunk. Again, Manuel comes to find me. Pointing at my postcard, he begins talking, I hear "Samos", I'm not too sure what he means, I presume he's telling me more about it. My confusion shows, and he mimes hands on a steering wheel, driving a car. Cogs slowly turn in my brain, I take a shocked pause, I hurriedly consult Google translate to confirm; Manuel is offering to drive me to Samos!!! I jump out of bed, beg him 5 minutes to change, and then am following him down the street to his car. We get in, I'm beaming ear to ear and practically bouncing in my seat as I buckle up, he looks at me, I look at him, we both smile. A 20min car ride later we arrive in Samos. He parks, and becomes my personal tour guide, walking me around the exterior, pointing out many mystery things (I don't speak Spanish Manuel, are you aware of this), and showing me the hidden original chapel.

I start using the translate feature where you each speak into the microphone and it reads it out in other language, and start holding it towards him when he starts explaining things. He tells me his family has documents from this monastery going back to 1585. He tells me about the fire they had, and the books from the library being thrown into the river. He tells me that some monks still operate there, but it's mainly used for tourism now. I ask if tourists are allowed inside and he takes me down to a door which displays some hours. He tells me they run tours at set times, and the next one is at 4.30, an hour away, damn. I tell him I wouldn't want to make him wait, seeing the outside has been special enough. He waves this off. He will wait. I refuse, I suggest I catch a bus back, he says there are none. We bargain and eventually I concede to his offer to leave me there to do the tour, and he will come back later that evening to collect me. Manuel 🥹

A Spanish angel, taking time out of his Saturday to make a little girl's monastery dreams come true. Before he leaves, he insists we get a beer. I pay, and thank him profusely via the Google translate lady, as he chuckles and nods.

He leaves and I wander around feeling astounded at my luck, and his generosity. Had I not stayed at his albergue, had I not taken an extra day, had I not decided to clean up on a whim that morning, had I not mentioned the monastery over coffee. Sometimes the world really likes to remind you what crazy things can come from a random string of events. Lady caz is getting her shits n gigs.

I tour the monastery, led by an old Spanish monk who conducts the tour entirely in Spanish (no complaints), and am absolutely in awe of yet another incredible building. The interior was even more beautiful than I had hoped, and I felt so grateful to be able to see it, as I was truly disappointed that I had missed the chance earlier.

After the tour, as I waited contentedly for Manuel, I wandered into the first bar I saw for a clara (delicious drink of beer mixed with lemonade). Huh, what d'ya know, the bar is perfect, beautiful, peaceful, cozy. Of course it is. I sit there, slowly sipping away, gazing around with stars in my eyes, and, at one point, a little salt water. I shared the place with one other patron, an older Spanish man enjoying a red wine and olives. Good music was playing, and at one point him and I were both quietly singing along under our breath. I look up and he smiles at me, and raises his glass in a toast, I raise mine and smile back. Today is holding a lot of feelings, good feelings, warm feelings, grateful feelings.

Manuel arrives, and he drives me back the scenic way, chuckling good-naturedly as I ooh and ahh out the window. Via Google, we share our love of Galicia and its natural beauty, and I tell him it reminds me of home, Tasmania. He seems to remember something, and starts rustling in his jacket pocket. He pulls out something that looks a bit like a talisman, a slate/stone(?) front side with leather on the back. He hands it to me, pointing and explaining in Spanish. The phone had been put away at this point, and I wasn't sure what he was saying, but I smiled and nodded and looked at it with interest. I get the phone back out and get it to ask him "is it stone?" - this must prompt him to realise I didn't understand and he gestures to speak and get translated. He tells me that it is a fossilised flower, that grows in the region, and is 235 million years old. I look at him, bug eyed, jaw dropped, and express further oohs and ahhs. After a closer look and some appreciation I go to return it to him. No, he gestures, it's for you.

We eventually make it back to the albergue and part. He leaves me with a hug and my first European experience of the kiss on each cheek. I make dinner, crack a beer, and sit myself out on the balcony to eat, looking out over his garden. My phone pings, Manuel has invited me for "one last beer" - I regretfully send him a photo of the one I already have open, while simultaneously feeling the urge to dump it out and go share a beer with this lovely man. He comes out into the garden, waving up to me on the balcony above. "Ciao bonita, buen camino, buenas noches!"

Later that evening, he's showing someone into the room quite late, while everyone's in bed. On his way out, he comes past my bed, whispering at me "buenas noches buenas noches, ciao ciao, gracias" as we stretch our hands out and give each other a parting squeeze 🥹 I message him as I leave the next morning, telling him how happy I was that I chose his albergue, and how grateful I was that his generosity allowed me such a beautiful day.

He replies: "Me alegro mucho. Que tengas buen camino y buena vida. Un beso"

"I am very happy. Have a good path and a good life. A kiss."

Excuse me while I weep.Læs mere