Today we begin our day with a bowl of cornflakes and fruit. Quickly we down it after yoga because Jorge and Maria and cousins Javier and Sylvia are already dressed for a hike. Hiking in Spain is not at Heather pace, which is a good thing. I need to step back and stroll more. Today we stroll up the twisting country roads stopping to view old homes with large gardens. We walk once again through fragrant eucalyptus groves. We climb the hill to a hidden monastery; old and rugged. The monastery is rarely open but because only good things happen to us, it is open. We strolled inside where there is a bar. The beams of the monastery are large, old and dark contrasting the rock walls with their imperfect bricks. Javier orders us all some water while we wait in the courtyard talking with a little boy who is playing soccer with himself against the wall. The boy is from Africa and has deep scars on his arm. He explains they are from being attacked by a big cat like a tiger. He tells us his story of adoption and how he came to be here with the owners of the monastery. The owners had wanted to turn the monastery into a hotel but couldn't get the permits.
The gardens of the monastery could have been taken out of England with perfectly trimmed hedgerows in blocks and long expanses of grass where archers were practicing with large targets. Perhaps these gardens are a link to the Celtic heritage of this area.
We climb further after the water and rest up to the batteries of the area. Down below were two castles on points across the water from one another. The castles once had a chain under the sea that stretched between them and blocked enemy ships. They were never defeated from this point. Brilliant strategy.
We continued down a different path, an old forested road with hidden farm houses. The trees hang low over the road in this area. We wind back down to the house, red stucco on the top of a hill looking out upon the water and A Coruna.
Paz is waiting to feed us. She has made a Spanish omelette with eggs and potatoes. We have fruit and bread and Elida's favorite cheese, loosely translated to mean little tits. We laugh and make many crude jokes about how she likes to lick the little tits. I make lemonade for everyone to enjoy; it is tart and refreshing. Some drink the lemonade with beer, a common thing in Spain. We have also had wine with Fanta lemon, an interesting combination.
Jorge is leaving today to go back to Madrid but he drops us at the beach and we say our goodbyes. Elida and I take the umbrella and we head to the sand. Elida tries to put the umbrella in Jorge-style which is a lot of twisting. I tease her about working the pole. I imagine all the Spanish me flocking to her to help with the pole and we laugh but none offer their assistance. We take another frigid swim and then rest on the beach. I read until I fall asleep. We fry in the hot sun until Maria arrives and then we take another refreshing dip. I keep chanting, "I'm in the Caribbean, this water is warm." After the dip we dry off and then return to the bar from yesterday for a coffee and water. We drink 4 liters of water between the three of us and then have an ice cream. Elida entertains the bartender by explaining the American girls are eating fattening ice cream and she rubs the bars on her ass, while Maria is having a low calorie Popsicle. He laughs heartily. Elida and I have chocolate as a poor substitute for the lack of sex in our lives. Maria doesn't have this problem.
We walk back from the beach this time up the hill strolling up different country lanes. We pass by the former wash basin for the area. There are concrete benches and water pouring from a fountain into a deep pool. The basin is slanted and you can just hear the conversations of the towns ladies as they push and pull back and forth on the clothes. Many laughs and tears must have been seen by this pool.
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