The alarm went off at 6am. No one in Spain is up at that hour. No one. But we were up and off to the airport. Not without breakfast though. Don’t even think about leaving Carmen’s house without breakfast. Not unless you want to make an old lady cry. So Carmen fed us, and we drove for a sleepy hour. I was nauseous the whole time, just cos I ate too early, and just cos. The floors at the Barcelona airport don’t help either. They’re black, shiny, and completely reflective which makes the whole place seem like a trippy house of mirrors. We had our 2 bikes and our 4 panniers, all of which require 2 carts to push everything around before you check in. This year we have our bikes disassembled and packed in giant black bags. No more cardboard boxes for us. The downside of this classing-up is that we are going to have to roll up and carry these heavy canvas bags with us on the bikes all the way to Lisbon. They’re each the size of a 2 person tent, and I only wish they were that light.And so began Gabriel and my Airport Arguing: 1) where the exit ramp is to return the rental car; 2) which check in line to stand in; 3)whether the strap can be left on the bike bag or needs to be removed before placing on the luggage belt; 4) whether security will allow you to carry on a razor and a pair of nail scissors. (They will. I lost that one); 5) who is or is not carrying their passport in a safe place on their person where they will not lose it; 6) who is or is not being bossy / oversensitive / angry for no reason. All of which ended in a cafe with Gabriel saying: “I need a break from you” and me turning on my heels and parking myself at the OTHER cafe, directly opposite from his, where we could each drink our cafe con leches and glare at each other from across the reflective floor. Still nauseous, my goal for the day became clear: Let me just get through it without barfing into my own lap.

Two hour flight to La Coruna. We somehow had Vueling “Excellence” status, which basically means you get priority boarding and their crappy wine is free. We arrived in Coruna, then commandeered two cab drivers (we needed two cabs because of our giant bikes) to take us to the bus station. There at the bus station we had an hour and a half to kill, and where of course there is no “Excellent” status ever, unless of course you count finding a clean bit of bench to sit on, which I did. And I did count it excellent. Gabriel popped off to the bar / cafe / store whatever it was next to the off-track betting place, and bought us a bottle of wine which we sipped out of souvenir shot glasses bought for the purpose while we waited. Why? because its midday in Spain and we’re 20-year-olds backpacking through Europe. No wait that’s not it. Because its midday in Spain and what else are you gonna do at the bus station for 2 hours besides drink wine out of a paper bag and chat with old ladies, which we also did.
The actual bus ride was another 3 hours or so. The first hour and a half was through some sheer ugly industrial city scenery. After that, we got out and toward the countryside and coast so views improved. Finally got to Muxia and now we’re back to “Excellent” status with our hotel, which is charming and close to the beach. Lugging the two bikes and 4 panniers the half mile from the bus stop to the hotel wasn’t so enjoyable but we needed the exercise and my stomachache was long gone. 
I should absolutely be asleep now since tomorrow we have to wake up early, assemble the bikes, and ride the 75 kilometers to Muros. Nite nite.