Last week we celebrated Gosia's birthday and with her sister, Ania, visiting from Poland we had a cute dinner at Melide before wandering down to Bixo for a late night ice-cream. On Saturday, Harley and I met Gosia and Ania at Marineda to go to the garden centre and then to her new house in Miño. But not before we spend a better part of an hour or so in Decathlon testing out the longboards and scooters between us.. the conclusion being that we both want skateboards but we both kinda suck and they are also not the cheapest of things to buy on a whim. Not to mention the fact that we already had a rollerblading phase that has come and apparently already gone after one night of skating together.
Naomi joined us at Gosia's in the evening and told us about a Medieval festival that was happening this weekend in Betanzos, a town not too far from Miño, that her Spanish teacher had told her about. So of course we finished our drinks and hopped in the car and made our way without any idea of what or where it actually was other than the hope to find market stalls and cheese and wine samples. We parked the car along a road with children (and some adults) changing into traditional folk costumes (or just clothes?) so we assumed we were in the right place. But we wandered towards where we though the town centre might be and it was surprisingly.. quiet. Too quiet. So Gosia asked a couple of people about the festival and no one seemed to know about it?! We walked back to the car and enquired one of the mothers of a dressed up girl and she directed us in the opposite direction. We followed the crowd and came upon a open space filled with plastic chairs facing a stage and what appeared to be a very local concert celebrating the 40th anniversary of something we didn't know. It was so local that we appeared to be the only non-local people there, let alone international and clueless. A completely irrational urge led us to sit in the third row and at 11pm, with the performances still in full swing, we shamefully got up and left without looking back. It was a funny experience and it gave us a story to tell. But probably never again. Sorry.
Yesterday, Gosia drove Ania and I to Finisterre, about an hour and a half drive down south of Coruña. It's been coined "the end of the world" (or "the edge of the earth") since the Roman times as that was what it was once believed to be true, and then later as the westernmost point of Europe, although now it's proven to be neither (there is somewhere in Portugal that hold the westernmost point title). In any case, it kind of felt like we were at the edge of something because right at the cliff's edge it looked out into a never-ending seascape. There wasn't even a definite horizon line separating the blues of the sky and sea. It was so beautiful and it reallt looked like some kind of heaven - I got a really weird and almost humbling feeling just standing there and looking out into to the endless.. endless nothing. It's also one of the last stopes on the Camino de Santiago route so around us there were small blackened patches on the ground from the remains of fires and random shoes and things littering the rocks left by the pilgrims.
A short drive away, there is also a waterfall that we checked out first. Cascada de Ézaro is fed by the River Xallas and is Europe's only waterfall that flows directly into the sea. It's pretty small but super scenic and a really pretty must-see if you are passing through the area. It's located in the municipality of Dumbría, in an area known as the "Coast of Death" (Costa da Morte) after the many shipwrecks that occurred along it's shore. Finisterre is actually included geographically in this name of the coast line as it's the endpoint of the rock-bound peninsula.
The rest of the afternoon was a lazy one by the beach close by and we set up 2 big parasols between the 3 of us. Obviously, I staying firmly planted in the shade while Gosia and Ania sunbathed in the sun. We took a couple of dips in the sea and eventually went swimming for a short while. The weather and the temperature was so perfect and there was almost no wind - even on the way we spotted the hydronic windmills completely at a halt. I filled a bag with the prettiest sea shells as we walked along the shore and it turned into a kind of addiction every time the tide brought in a new batch of them. If it weren't for the bag being close to breaking under the weight of them, I don't know when or how I would have stopped.
We packed up and headed home just before the sun set, singing to Whitney and Michael Jackson all the while wishing the weekend would never end.