Ten days in Aix en Provence; the south of France.  Even the name, Provence, sounds soothing to the soul. Pretty much the perfect final destination to wrap up this 3-month, 6 countries incredible journey we’ve been on.  I adore France and I’ve been known to say I could live in France if it weren’t for the smoking.

Making our way back across Spain – after walking the Camino and visiting Porto – there was only one stop I really wanted to make. And, basically it was for only one reason; to visit La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.

On our last night in Porto – or should I say morning – it was 1:38 a.m. and I was wide awake writing this post.  Not by choice, believe me. Lesson learned, never – ever – book a hotel room on a bustling riverfront, on a Friday night, where there are bars and restaurants just below your hotel room window.  Oy vey!

Santiago de Compostela, we arrive.  While walking the Camino de Santiago, I found myself in tears exactly three times.  Here’s why.

Sarria, the last 100 kms. Thirty days later and we’re still here. We’re still walking the Camino de Santiago. Yesterday we reached the 100 marker. Just 100 kilometers to go!

Making our way toward Galicia, we walked from Vega de Valcarce to O Cebriero on a soggy sodden muckity mucked trail. Up and up and up we climbed, for hours.  Horses use this section of the trail.  Do I need to say more?  The redeeming grace was the gift of spectacular views.

We sat basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun at a table on the Plaza Mayor in Villafranca.  Every village on the Camino has a Plaza Mayor, I think it’s an unwritten cultural law.  I’m joking, but every village seems to have one.  Abi with his cerveza and me with Sangria, we sipped the cold refreshing drinks and desperately tried to keep our eyes open.  We ordered mixed salads and another round. It was the perfect ending to a good day.  Today.  Day 25.

Left, right, left, right, one foot in front of the other, onward we walk to Astorga and Ambros. While walking we walk in sync, although my stride is a bit shorter than Abi’s.  We walk in silence.  We jibber jabber when one of us has something profound to say.  You know, deep thought-provoking ideas, something along the lines of, I wonder what kind of tree that is or those purple and white flowers sure are pretty. There’s a lot of deep thinking between us while walking to Ambros.

For a multitude of reasons we hopped a bus out of Leon to a sleepy little village about 19 miles outside of the city, our next planned destination.  We stepped off the bus and quickly realized the entire town was closed up tight because May 1 is a major holiday in Spain – didn’t see that coming.

When your husband looks at your feet and asks, “How is it that you’re even standing?” you know it may be time to give it a rest.  Not throw in the towel, just give it a rest.  I will spare you the graphic details because quite frankly I’m sick of writing about my sick feet, but suffice it to say there was no longer any question that we needed to stop for a few days in an attempt to heal.