It was 4 degrees. The lucky ones had hats and gloves.
The night was hard, I ran into Pavarotti, an Italian who snores. And he doesn’t snore a little, he grunts, like ten wild boars, at least.
When I arrived, I met André and Béatrice, a couple from Brives in France. Too bad we didn’t talk more, they are nice people.
Had dinner with the woman from California. Boring food.
A patcharan and then to bed. There are only six of us in the whole hostel. Few people where the American stays also, even though we were warned that it would be crowdy and difficult to get a room from Arzuá to Santiago.
The hostel in Sobrado.
The hostel in Sobrado.
My laundry drying at the hostel in Arzúa.
My laundry drying at the hostel in Arzúa.