Day 35, 2017 - Triacastela to Sarria

MUY MALO

Speaking like a sheep,

I befriended a shepherd

with anti-Trump views.

Departed 8:30am 42°

From my notes:
Cold morning. Looks like rain.
Geared up. 
Mind shift. Want to be in Santiago. 
Going toward, not away from. 
Right route, not going through Samos
Rain jacket off, fleece on, fleece off, rain jacket on. 
Hills. Hills. Hills. 
Slippery, steep downs through the forest. 
Confused roosters crow at noon. 
Tall ferns. 
Ancient trees. 
Sheep whisperer. 
"Muy malo" Trump, said the shepherd.  
Donativo table. 
Old man proud of his rows of potatoes. 
Whistling pilgrim. 
Dirt path paralleling the road. 
High hedge rows. 
Through small villages with little of anything. 
Home brew festival in full force. 
Tree canopies over the path. 
First sight of Sarria, still eight or 9 km away. 
Roosters conversing at each end of the road. 
Dogs barking. 
Memories. 
I am not directionally impaired. 
Hairdryer. 
Random meeting, Jose, wife and friend. 
Christina from Germany.  
Glad to rest early.  
Tomorrow, a bridge to cross.

I never knew his name but we shared a few "ga-fa's" when I called his sheep by bleating. He opened the gate and we walked into the field, I'm certain he thought me a crazy American. But as we turned to walk away, he called after us and out of the blue and with a furled brow and gruff voice said, "Trump...muy malo!!!". We made each other's day.

I never knew his name but we shared a few "ga-fa's" when I called his sheep by bleating. He opened the gate and we walked into the field, I'm certain he thought me a crazy American. But as we turned to walk away, he called after us and out of the blue and with a furled brow and gruff voice said, "Trump...muy malo!!!". We made each other's day.