Nuevo Camino. Pt3.

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Azurely assuredly a day for walking the shortest route possible. Slept deep yet woke up terribly exhausted. Yesterday was all round too tough so aiming for Betanzos, which is just over one tremendous hill and no more. Breakfast is essentially necessary now! Finding a cafe as succeedingly provisioned again might be unlikely.

There is a comforting under floor heating this morning yet still no hot water!

Linda has sun stroke or dehyration so we breakfast and I depart with two juicy figs and pass through a smokey trough over the bay looking for a clear sign I am on the Camino. After an up at the heaven climb I hit the top and passage of barking dogs cheering me onwards and eventually chetch and choing smoking house or a saxophone for a maximum blower. To walk alone.

Pact of suicide dogs as I trundled through con/sin Gas. U know I sin con Gas! I sinned not; on only two occasions I have been requested to prove my identity: once buying a BigMac in Ferrol and just now in Miño buying silicon insoles; surreal precautions!

Missing a concealed scallop I went too far east but found vines before a red Citreon Bx set me back on the Way. First tinkle on this stage as I defend myself from another heinous crime of a townscape; oh well! Didn't love the name the View is a mental distortion! The con Gas man delivers sinning gas beeping his rancid horn a la popman from Ben Shaw's con gas ginger beer circa1978. Betanzos.

I take it all back. Ginger beer was so good in 1978 and Betanzos is better away from the northern views.

Pote bar. Pais. Home made Mencia. Grape variety. Very glad to be wrong. Them vino Pais! I couldn't be more wrong if I tried. Once you get inside Betanzos delve for bright finally minerally vino blanko! Sleeing on vino but don't know which grape! And then old time rias baixax...castle of booze! Random love and me journeyed of loads of locale Bouza!

Such a jewel of a free town. Must try Betanzos. Walk from the north to start most moody and misexpectant. Passed the convent of wimples and through a gate the languid first alley/ginnel/snicket left and heaven of tapas e vinos awaits, but never ever trust a businessman they're stupid in a conceited shagging sagging thick neckedness. What they ever know they learnt from a book, but n'er lived the pleasures. It's a never ending parade of nerks and ninklepoops; dollar signs for irises and balance sheets for brains; balls sack a purse of rusting, crusty rustling pfennings and no/marks.

Up and over the hill I spot a Hawaii storied gentleman. No comprend our similarity. Then t'other side and eclesia and I chase a grey gull back to the sea as I sink a forth sun into my cheek by jowl. Vinos back to the Sleeing Slumbers! Awaiting ochei.

Return to filling, filing in tattoos. Yet I did recommend this spot so just desserts! Adios while I relax further into Mexico, Jack, Dean, etc. A meal with Linda; the breeze presents another possible weather forecast for the longun Wednesday. 25 kilometers with new insoles to touch my sole solo. Gentle, steep and more gentle so I wait next to Iglesia Parroquial de Santiago coffee prior to veg food and certainly local Mencia. The Portuguese loveliests carried on a few clicks more! Anguished!

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