Farewell A Caniza

Monday morning I got up at 7 to pack my rucksack. I sat on the floor in the living area and looked out through the window into the valley. The dogs lay outside with their bodies pressed close to the glass and I breathed as Toni had told me to until Samantha came downstairs for breakfast. I had a mountain of toast and cheese with Toni whilst Samantha had coffee and cigarettes. At half past eight we all got in the little car and drove to A Caniza. I slid around in the back with Samantha's satchel and Toni's laptop as Samantha confidently weaved along the mountain road. When we arrived in A Caniza, Samantha had to go to her lesson and we embraced. I was going to miss her so much.

At Merce's bar I had a croissant with one of Samantha's students, a middle-aged guy who was learning English. We had the usual coffee talk until I mentioned I'd done mindful walking the day before and he said that yes, he enjoyed that too; he would take the 'doggies' into the woods where there was a stream then he would lie down, smoke a cigarette, well, marihuana, and enjoy his surroundings. It made me smile a lot, apart from anything because of the way he kept referring to the dogs as 'doggies'. 

Afterwards Toni realised my bus wasn't going to come for another two hours so Merci had me sit with the chicos from ER. We talked and laughed for ages and I almost forgot that I was leaving that day. I said goodbye to Merci and Toni, who by now felt pretty much blood related. When  I stepped outside the bar, there were he ER guys, waiting to drop me off at the bus stop in the ambulance. This made me pretty bleeding happy and sad all at once.

I boarded the bus after half an hour of waiting and when I arrived in Ourense I took a connecting bus to Allariz. The way the highway cut through the mountain meant that in 45 minutes I had arrived in Allariz, which would have taken me two to three days to walk to. It was still early afternoon when I stepped off the bus and walked over the bridge to Belin's street. I sat in a bar for an hour to update my blog before asking the owner if they knew Belin. She told me Belin was a cook at the school and wouldn't let me go sightseeing until I had checked in wih her. I was in no position to argue as she had my backpack behind the bar, so I crossed the road and entered the school, feeling like an intruder. I approached a lady with a black chefs hat on and asked for Belin Gonzalez. She told me to follow her and after a while of walking down the hall I suddenly realised she was Belin. My belated and effusive greeting was met with bemusement and coffee with a slice of cake. Belin took me to her flat, where she lived with her aged mother and I was able to shower and crash in Javier's bedroom. Javier had a pretty sweet setup, posters of activists and musicians donned his walls and his bookshelves were filled with political and philosophical works. I also found a newspaper article on Javier's art exhibition on Palestine with a picture of the man himself looking knowing in oversized knitwear and a nose ring. 

That evening Belin returned in flurry of excitement and insisted marching me up the hill to the castle, breathlessly touring me through the monuments on the way. Allariz from the top was beautiful, with the last light of day elongating the shadows of the town and reflecting its warm hues in the river. We walked back down and along the banks to a bar, where the owner had owner had more than 2000 key rings hanging from the ceiling, and Belin taught me how to eat pepas. Afterwards we had tapas at a restaurant owned by one of Belin's former lovers, anchovies with garlic and a plate of smoked hams with pepper...... The music was so awesome and the owner seemed unaware of the rock gems he was playing. We had a cafe liqueur for the road and we were walking back to the flat when I made an off hand observation that living with her mother must be hard. Belin started sobbing and leaned into me gratefully. I didn't know what to do, opening up an emotional can of worms is all very well when you have the language capacity to dig yourself out, but I didn't. By the time we reached her street however, Belin had taken to singing the Galician anthem and dragged me into the bar I had spent most of the day in for more coffe liqueur. The moon was high in the sky by the time we reached her front door and Belin had some how managed to persuade me to stay another night to meet Javier. My head hit the pillow grateful and I optimistically set my alarm for 7 the next day.