Rain discourages photography. Luckily it only rained much of the day, not the whole time, so we got a few photos. Early on, we walked through a forest of eucalyptus and pine trees. Someone was cutting the eucalyptus, using the Camino as a logging road (others use it as a cow path, for car deliveries, and so forth).

The woodland paths ran with new streams today. The streets, ditto. After three days of off and on rain, some of it vigorous, Galicia is soaked. By all accounts, this is its natural state, so none of the locals seemed perturbed. One reason for all of the running water is the fact that the area is all hills and river valleys. So we slithered down a steep rocky path, and trudged back up from the river banks to the top of another hill, then headed down again through woods and fields.One difference between Galicia and the rest of northern Spain is that more people have houses in the country, and there are more “hamlets” as the guidebook calls them, with two or three or four houses and barns together. Another difference is that some of the larger towns – Melide, Arzua among them — have more modern sections and the medieval parts aren’t as well defined.

Today really was a shorter day, only about ten miles (depending on whose pedometer you’re looking at). We checked into our hotel which has no heat (yesterday’s laundry didn’t dry, and today’s laundry has no better chance, given the damp) and no wi-fi, and unpacked, did laundry, got a rest. The interesting thing about the lack of heat and wi-fi is the indignation that the Spanish show at even being asked about these things — shaking their heads and wagging their fingers they say, “no, no, no.” I think that I’m spoiled because I turn on the heat in the house when I feel chilly, whereas many people I know refuse to do that until a certain date has passed

For the last couple of hours we’ve been parked at an Internet cafe that offers excellent hot chocolate, orujo (served with cream; Anthea says that it tastes like Bailey’s Irish Cream), and coffee, along with a chance to connect to the rest of our world. It’s getting to be 7:30 in the evening, with the possibility of dinner beginning to take on more importance. Regina says she’s discovered a couple of places that offer vegetarian options (even if just pasta with canned tomato sauce), so we’ll try one of those. And the sun just came out, lighting up the evening streets of Arzua. Regina has located a pizza place — how far are we willing to walk? About a mile, so we’re off — more tomorrow.

Logging eucalyptus trees in the forests along the Camino. The local police have stopped to ask a couple of questions, but they moved on.

A spider in the rain.

Translates as “Dangerous dog.”

Prickly pear cactus. The Galician vegetation seems to be a mix of tropical (palm trees, cactus) and Midwestern (weeping willow in the next photo down).

Tom Lazio, taking a brief rest.

Sheep grazing near downtown Arzua (where we’re staying tonight). The boundaries between country and city aren’t as sharp here as in the U.S.

Anthea’s keeping track of cute creatures for us — this is the kitten she met today at lunch.

A structure in the countryside — we saw several, but just in this area, and don’t know what they’re for — woven of branches, thatched roof. Internet time is limited, as is too often the case, so won’t look it up now.

Modern art peregrino.

Medieval bridge, still in use (possibly repaired in the meantime).

Wildlife — snail on our pension door in downtown Melide.

September 23, 2012 photos.

Wings for the peregrino — we often wish for them.

Puddles along the path — from two days ago. They grow bigger as the rain continues.

Sheep bellying up to the tapas bar.

Sunflower fields in Galicia from two days ago. We haven’t seen any since, but were a little surprised to see them this far west.

A Romanesque (meaning it probably is from the 11th or 12th centuries) front of a small village church — sorry that I can’t identify which village.