This section of the Camino was a pleasant days walk: passing small vineyards where the leaves were turning, through villages where each has a precarious bell tower with a particular shape and design and all the time gradually climbing further into the mountains. When you are walking on your own you are often more approachable and in one village an old man stopped me: “perdone, no espagnol”, I said (one of my overused phrases). No matter, he continued his talk and I could grasp that my nationality was partly what was requested. He took one of my hands and I covered his with my other: apparently it is good luck to touch a peregrino. I kissed both his cheeks, we smiled at each other, he bade me “buen Camino” and then the fleeting moment of a simple and joyful human connection was complete. The albergue in Rutelan brought more pleasantness: a small balcony from which to watch passers by (locals and walkers), harvesting and wheelbarrowing of enormous pumpkins and cows coming home for the night. This albergue (Pequeno Potala – little Potala) is run by two gentle men of buddhist faith and their generosity and love of their work was evident: from the careful laying of the table; the wish for us to have “buen provencho” that was repeated in all the language groups gathered round the table; and the preparation and presentation of the food. I especially liked their request that we not rise in the morning until we heard music at 7 am. It is one of the less pleasant aspects of communal Camino accomodation that walkers are often awake and packing before seven. We were duly woken to the strains of Ave Maria: nevermind that it was almost drowned out by the rustle of plastic bags after barely two bars. It was a lovely gesture with some opera and a mix of other tunes to start the day including don’t worry be happy, always look on the bright side and these boots are made for walking. One of the paintings hanging on the wall captured the essence of this albergue: these two men showed much care and love to the people that passed through their home.