Arrived to Ferrol on a bus from Madrid. Surprisingly tired after sitting on my butt for 8 hours.
Ferrol is spacious, quiet and seems at a complete standstill. No tourists, no locals, nada. Maybe it’s because it’s Sunday, though.
Fun fact: there are two hotels called Porto Novo in Ferrol. How do I know? I think you’ve already guessed it. If course it’s because I first dragged my wife to the wrong one. Unfortunately no fun was to be had with “I have a reservation, no you don’t”, because it was locked and covered with dust, the first one.
We had a chance to do “the first mile” of the Camino today already, it officially starts here, at the waterfront:
There’s a pilgrims’ office right next door, and the lady there laughed at our nonchalant way, she said not worrying about a place to stay or knowing where to go is exactly the right spirit. I felt shamed into being proud about myself, or the other way around, maybe.
Weird place, Ferrol. Franco’s birthplace and a home to some large military facilities that use up all of the coastline, it doesn’t look or feel like a Galician town to me at all: the wide empty streets, loooo-o-ots of concrete everywhere… oh, well. The people are very nice, as everywhere in Spain. Friendly, polite and kind.
