The next morning was dedicated to look around to some of very interesting things that Coruña has. One of those is probably the most ancient, still working lighthouse in the whole world: Hercule's Tower. Unfortunately, after a restoration, I look at the tower and feel like it lost part of its history. Not saying that the Tower is bad, that is not where I want to get. I'm just stating that, by looking at this reconstructed tower, built on 2 century A.D., all polished and even re-designed, I feel like the stories of such ancient lighthouse were somehow lost with its legends. The story, that gets engraved in their walls, like scars in our bodies, are covered to make you look at something that is not Hercule's Tower anymore but something brand new; a whole new Tower, not Hercule's anymore...
Anyhow, it felt funny to go inside such old foundations and having to walk all the way up, to the balcony, imagining how could it have been to see, through the same balcony, fleets of ships, sailing to distant lands; guiding the course of incoming boats, through the misty, tempestuous night to get to shore; and the way this same place around looked like before… how many more rivers did it had? how few houses, and how much landscape... it seems that some views over the tower still look like unchanged, apart from a little path leading to the very edge of the hill, leading to a solar watch, gaining control over the time, without the need of a wrist to hold such weight.
Because of some arguments we had with the GPS to see a prime spot at Bilbao, I managed to persuade all to go to the hill over Coruña, to have a grasp over the city and the surrounding sea, and enjoy of the comfort of the grass, the freshness of the wind, the smoothness of the clouds and the happiness of a very nice time.
But yet we had to move on, like gaining conscience of becoming close and closer from your home; this sense of feeling that we are more than half way through. That home is nearer.
Anyhow, we carried on. Towards the end of the world, it was. It's name, Finisterre, literally says the end of the world. And it was believed that Finisterre was associated with the edge of the world, according to Pre-Christian beliefs. Also, it is a very special location for pilgrims, for it is the place where, after the pilgrimage, there is this sense of re-birth and the place where one physically burns his one-self. Such place as Finisterre.
Being no pilgrims nor rubber tramps, although apparently making similar routes with them, we journeyed on, back to Santiago de Compostela, to see the wonder that the city brings to the people from there. As we got in, after the middle of the day and walked about, what I felt about the city, despite all its beauty and history and sublimeness was the reason why people go to Santiago. More than half of the people we where crossing paths with or along where there because of the cathedral; because of the pilgrimage; because of their beliefs. The epicentre of the city was the cathedral and, the larger amount of people were gathered around it. The mass was still on so what we saw could not be photographed, for respect over the ones praying inside.
We all knew that this was gonna be our last day. That after this day we would get to the comfort of our house but yet so many places were kept away from us... so much more we could have seen...! And yet, we were still moving on; this time towards the beautiful city of Vigo, following the increasingly descending trajectory of the sun.
Arriving in Vigo was somehow like arriving at Porto. So many similarities between both cities, despite the divergences on the landscape. What I am trying to say is that the ambience of the city is very alike Porto's, which can kind of enhance this amiableness that we often see between the north of Portugal and the very North West of Spain.
Adding to that, there was an event being held in Vigo at that time. It was sponsored by Red Bull and everyone was able to use the platforms and toys they had in display for the one that felt like doing it, could give it a go. This gathering made the city so much alive, with music dancing around the long avenues near the river, the massive amounts of people gathered around the rings where one could see break dancers performing many times better than what you usually would, many kids trying to do and learn some new tricks on the boards and a crowd, happy and pleased to be able to see such event.
But more intense and beautiful to witness was not the event being held, but the view of Vigo. The light had been going down beautifully and it was promising to be astonishing; One great enough to be remembered for days to come! Hence, at the established time, I set out and started doing this panorama, telling a small tale of a city, that being covered with darkness of the night, gets illuminated, and clouds change their colour to that of fire, while the rest of them are slowly, step by step darkened more and more until we see them no more and all that's left is of the city.
After a well deserved dinner, as farewelling such great journey, we set course to the warmth of our house, where we would get in about 3 hours, from Vigo.
We were tired, grumpy and not willing to store all we had brought with us. We hence went to bed and left the next day to rest and start establishing to the new pace, for as little as possible, before the very next travel of Eoin.
And for now, we stay here.
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