It’s merely 7 kilometers from Esposende. It’s a short distance, but the prospect of a hot day is expected. This Camino trail led inland over dirt and sandy trails that were thankfully, shaded by pine trees. The sea was not very distant. It brought a random ocean breeze into the path where the forest thins out.

We went by a church compound and graveyard as we got closer to Esposende. Its steep family crypts set row after row seemed like an eerie small village. A yellow arrow on one wall directs us to move on to the city’s outskirts. Along the trail, a man offers us a gift of plastic yellow pilgrim arrow trinkets. Giving something is a Camino practice, but we’re not sure what he wanted in return. We accepted it and thanked him, anyhow. At another juncture, a woman gives us a blue plastic miniature open-hand trinket. I read elsewhere that it’s really a custom of The Way. At other times, we would find a small unattended snack and drink stand. A small box is left to accept any amount of donation as payment. It’s believed to be a gesture of blessing.

It’s around noon and pretty hot. For a while today, we have been walking on clear roads and trails. At the edge of the plaza, we spied a cafe-pasteleria and we went in to find clarinhas! The order of two clarinha plates, an espresso, and melocoton (peach) juice for Pat was a true blessing. We are in the town of Fão and learned that it was this pasteleria that invented the clarinha. Exhibited on its wall is a mounted recipe license. It merited a selfie.

We were delighted with the discovery of the clarinha and it powered us enough as we crossed the Luis Felipe bridge. The bridge crossed the river Cavado on which bank the city of Esposende sits. As with most beachfront cities, it has the air of a resort, but still very residential enough not to empty after the weekend. A promenade that serves as a walkway to restaurants and offices with a river view straddles a lengthy stretch of the river bank. At one cove, a half-mile span of the river channel is a “floating” boardwalk bridge over the water. How cool is that?

We appeared early at our hotel with plenty of time to freshen up and hunt for lunch or merienda. We found a corner cafe, but it was so crowded with no tables available. A young waitress, spotting our foreign faces, asked in English what we wanted. Surprised, we chatted her up and ordered pastries. Eager to practice her English with us, she coaxed a customer seated by herself to transfer to the bar so she could seat us at a table. Then, she told us her story: she’s finishing high school, has a boyfriend playing pro basketball in Texas, and trying to decide what to do. We told her it might be an excellent opportunity to join him. She demurred and said she preferred to stay behind. We said to ourselves, why give this up?

Dinner was Iberian time. A call to restaurant Buraca, a town favorite, yielded an earlier hour at 7 pm. Bravo! We walked over In 10 minutes and ordered our first restaurant-quality dinner on the Camino. Pat had grilled pulpo and salad. I had salad and a couple of grilled sardines. Yes, sardines—the national fish of Portugal! Our server, who spoke perfect English, said as a matter of courtesy, they add an extra sardine, gratis. He also suggested a small bottle of white wine that complemented the seafood.

Under this barrage of Portuguese delicacy, we could not refuse. And did not regret it. For fine dining, the tab was affordable. Later, without dismissing our gustatory pleasure, Pat became conscious about consuming an octopus. By bedtime, I felt goutish. I recalled my dad’s admonishment: “Avoid sardines if you can help it.” We had just sacrificed any future pleasure that might be derived, from this single dinner, the delicacies of Portuguese sea cuisine.