Today was such a perfect day with everything falling into place exceptionally. We started with breakfast that we'd prepared ourselves. Toast, tea and orange juice. No coffee sadly. But we did have fresh tomato and cheese. Another load of washing and that completed 100% of our clothing clean and fresh.
Our first port of call was the Tourist Information Centre for our pilgrim stamps and information. Yes even on Sunday, they were open. At least one of them. And at least at the time we needed them. Tourist Information Centres are worth their weight in gold. Whatever you need, they always seem to have all the answers.
From the TIC we followed the advice, moved swiftly back to the Plaza Major and there awaiting us was the tacky tourist train that would take us to the thermal spas, at a cost of 85 cents each. Perfect! We had already discussed, given the limitations of time, what we would prioritise in Ourense. We had both agreed it had to be the old Roman thermal spas.
The train pulled three passenger carriages. It was sluggish and bumpy from beginning to end. There was no commentary. Just some very noisy kiddies two seats back. We looked out at a man in the square struggling to get clientele with his bubble blowing business and considered suggesting to the mum that her children might prefer blowing bubbles to riding on a tacky tourist train. But we held our tongues. Although Jenny did at one stage turn around and put her finger to her lips and I think the older kid understood.
Tacky tourist train, or TTT, took us directly to a number of thermal options spread along the river, some free, some at a cost. The one we chose is the largest and comes with a locker, towel and flip flops and cost a grand total of 18 euros. There were probably a dozen hot pools of varying temperatures, some in sunlight, some sheltered, some indoors, some very hot, some even cold. The instructions were to spend no longer than 15 minutes in any pool at a time. We expected that being a Sunday it might be crowded. And it certainly was well attended. But at no time did we ever feel cramped. People seemed to be able to respect each other's need for space and tended to move between pools according to availability. We were able to submerge our bodies up to the neck and enjoy the blissful experience. And it truly was an amazing experience.
After about an hour and a half we'd had enough. The question was, how to get back to the city. The GPS indicated 6km. Groan. You'd think with all the walking we do that we wouldn't balk at 6km. But we did. We recalled the guy at the TIC had mentioned a parking area just across the bridge and down the track, where buses pull in. So off we went. How perfect that just as we arrived at the designated parking area, there was a bus. And immensely relieved, on we hopped! 85 cents each to save 6km of walking! Perfect timing all day.
Feeling fresh and invigorated, we enjoyed a walk around the city centre and saw new pilgrims as we ate lunch washed down with a glass of vino blanco. Then a hurried departure to reach the ice cream parlour before it closed. Which we did, and yes it was delicious.
The finale to our day was meeting up with David and Isabelle for drinks and dinner at a little restaurant on the side street specialising in tapas. (Ourense is another one of those amazing 'foodies heaven' places. Wasted on vegetarians like Jenny.)
At the time we met up, Isabelle had barely arrived, resorting to a taxi after being inadvertently locked in the toilet at her previous night's albergue. It took some time before she was found and released. If there's drama to be had, sure as anything Isabelle will be in the thick of it. Over tapas we caught up, exchanged some stories and then parted ways, this time until Santiago when we arrive at our ultimate destination.
I neglected to mention previously the dilemma with language. It's difficult enough getting one's head around the Spanish but when we crossed over into Galicia, it was not just the province that changed. The locals cling furiously to their own local language and signage everywhere reflects this. And it's confusing. An example, in Galician the 'x' is the same as a Spanish 'j', which of course sounds like the English 'h'. How could anyone in their right mind think that made sense??
The camino marker in the TIC window shows we are now 106km from Santiago. Already it is beginning to feel surreal. Down to five fingers! (You know what I mean by that!)
Is that 4 walking days left?