I was raised in the desert. I know heat, parched earth, scorching sun, and dry, dry air. The rain, when it comes, is either a light pitter patter or torrential floods. There is no in between, it seems. And so when I come to a place like the region of Spanish Galicia, “the country of a thousand rivers,” I find it irresistible. So much green! So much moisture. Misty and rain and moss. Mud and more. Gnarled trees and stone huts. All of them are here, and more.
Flat heavy stones are everywhere. Stacked to form walls, bridges, homes …
Even charming old chapels.
Grain is stored in these odd looking little huts to keep them safe from rodents. Every house seems to have one.
Hills everywhere. An endless panorama of them.
The sign beside it claims that this tree is 800 years old. Called a castaño, it produces chestnuts in the fall.
I never tired of the overflowing streams, and the constant drip, drip, drop from above. I don’t melt, and my shoes are waterproof. What more did I need but a rain jacket and backpack cover?
It is in such places that I am constantly surprised about the many hues green takes.
I took a longer route on this day’s walk, determined to visit the Benedictine monastery of Samos, founded in the 6th century.
Along with two Finnish women, we toured the cloisters with a monk who spoke only Spanish. He showed us the lovely frescoed walls with pride. The Botica interested me as well, a long ago pharmacy.
The monk blushed when I asked to take his picture. What a lovely, humble man he was. A credit to his profession.
More streams, as I traveled on.
More idyllic scenes.
And another bridge, leading to the unknown.
Join me, if you like, as my pilgrimage continues on. Or backtrack, if it suits you, to other images in my 100 Spanish Photos series.
Until next time, enjoy the new year. Indeed, we are blessed to experience it, with its many highs and occasional lows.