Baiona was a pretty place, a nice reward, after going through the ordeal of trekking uphill and downhill on a short stretch of stone and boulder trail. While on a short forest trail, Joseph of Minnesota, caught up with us. We had some chit-chat. Joseph came to Spain on an internship for a year. When it was over, he decided to see more of the country before he returns home. Doing the Camino was an easy choice and fitted his Catholic mentality. We walked at a quick pace, but Joseph kept looking back. Pat noticed that we went pass a couple young women, twins they seemed. It was obvious Joseph was on a slow pace so the twins could catch up. We took the hint and excused ourselves for walking ahead. How this meet up would turn out was our guess.

A yellow scallop and arrow marker stone on a hill heralded our entry to Baiona. At the foot are small stones, and objects pilgrims have unburdened themselves of as they walk the Camino. It was a motley collection. Some had drawings on it. Others were short messages. Given the intent of the Camino, one might think of it as spiritual graffiti, if there’s such a term.

As we entered the outskirts of the town, we would see the Farina lighthouse peeping behind a hill and with the sea behind it. Continuing towards the center of the town, we pass a hill upon which a gigantic image of the virgin set in a rock cropping that we learned later was the Virgen de la Roca. She stood to watch amidst a stand of pine trees overlooking the cove of Baiona. 

We passed through narrow cobblestone streets in search of our hotel. Baiona was an old medieval town that was now overrun by tourist amenities. We trudged through the old cobbled streets and found ourselves on the waterfront, teeming with alfresco bars. True to its lack of precision, our guidebook did not alert us that the other entrance to the hotel was through the bar. A consoling thought—at least, we don’t have to forage for ice for our feet. 

Our room had a small balcony that overlooked a small plaza crowded with cafes and restaurants. Being in direct view of the street below, we were shy about hanging and drying our clothes on the balcony. That was concerning. The clothing will be damp on the walk. The threat of rain the next day was no help. That, in fact, became the order of the day—buying a poncho while we looked for lunch. 

We did and how we gorged, without shame. It was an enormous plate of cured meats, foie gras (politically incorrect in California), churros, and chocolate. The 17 km from Oia has worked up our appetite. It warranted a hefty meal. On the way out of the cafe, Pat halts in front of a table that was just served pulpo-the grilled kind that she has sworn to abstain from. She can’t help but ask permission, unabashed if she could take a picture of the dish. Shocked by the unexpected request, the poor couple could only shrug their shoulders in approval. 

We found the Chinese store in a corner close to the waterfront. I asked the Chinese cashier, who was behind a COVID plastic screen, where the ponchos were. She muttered something in Gallego, not in Spanish, that I would have understood. I found it anyhow. Paid her 6 Euros, which she grudgingly took, and we were gone. I wondered, how much have the Chinese really assimilated in this part of Spain? In 1493, during Columbus’s voyage of discovery, they captured several natives of the Bahamas and brought them back to Baiona on the boat, Pinto. It was proof to the Spanish king that a new world had been discovered.  Before the pandemic, the people of Baiona celebrate every March of the year, the Festa de Arribada, to commemorate the Pinta’s arrival. Native Americans have since repudiated the significance of Columbus’ achievement. I read elsewhere that they found a document in the Spanish archives that proved that Columbus was more a tyrant than the harbinger of new world modernity. 

The cove was pretty. But the Pinta museum was closed when we reached the wharf. Overlooking the wharf was an impressive fort that has been converted into a parador (refurbished old palaces for deluxe lodging). We wanted to visit the fort, but a barker was charging us a few euros to enter. Politely, we refused. We satisfied ourselves with a few selfies along its outer walls. 

It was time to forage for dinner. If there’s a good thing about a touristy place, like Baiona, a kitchen is always open for tourists who come in at odd hours. There seems to be less adherence to the 7 pm-9 pm Spanish Cena hours. We found a bar down the street from our hotel. Lo-and-behold, as we seated ourselves, who else would we see other than our Aussie buddies from Viana do Castelo? They have just arrived in Baiona and are almost done with dinner. We exchanged pleasantries, raised our glasses, and off they went. It will be a rest day for them tomorrow.  Back at the hotel, I procure a couple of liter water bottles and some ice. They predicted rain for tomorrow.