On to Pola de Allande

Yesterday I discovered that the $30 I had taken out in the US was in my bag, so I stopped and changed it. ($30 in, 21 euros out, what a deal! 😟) However, thank goodness I did because the money I transferred to my Schwab card hasn’t shown up yet, and I would have found myself schlepping my backpack and carryon for the 45 minute walk to the bus station if I hadn’t.

As it was I took a nice taxi. I had wondered where to get one, but when I went out yesterday to the ATM to get the money that wasn’t available, I saw a lot of taxis stopped in a circular area. It was less than a quarter mile from my hotel. I’m telling you guys, God takes care of me. Not sure why, but he does.

I had a moment of panic when I thought I was in the wrong bus station; I knew I wasn’t but you know how fear can sometimes be totally irrational. Information assured me I was in the right place and told me my platform.

Now I am sitting in my nice bus waiting to head out.

I just witnessed a “vigorous discussion” over a seat. That wasn’t unexpected. What was unexpected was that nobody ended up sitting there. Both disputed seats, empty. Why the discussion then?

The bus from Madrid was 30 minutes late, causing me to miss my connection. Fortunately with my international plan I could let Stef know so he didn’t waste time in Cangas. I have an hour to kill in the bus station in Oviedo. I could feed the pigeons, I guess.

However this sandwich has been waiting for me for six hours. Time to put it out of its misery.

There were some crumbs left, so the pigeon got some

The trip was uneventful. Many of the people I knew are gone: Eugenia, Luz-Dary, and of course Carlos, Montse, and Veronica. Dinner was with the pilgrims, a group of four young Italian men. All handsome. All doctors.

I felt like I was in a rom-com, and any minute this Jewish-sounding voice was going to come out of me saying, “Let me tell ya about my doytah; she’s a noice goil, a chef, even…

Relax, Sarah, I didn’t say anything. You have a boyfriend anyway.

We sat by the fire and caught up on each other’s lives; at least Stef is caught up on mine. And now I’m going to sleep. Night, Mom, I’ll call tomorrow.