Yesterday was a really low point and I kept wondering what were we doing? Felt as if we'd been sold a bill of goods and the Camino was a ruse foisted onto foreigners to keep small towns in Spain alive. After all, I read that Foncebadon had been an abandoned village inhabited only by wild dogs in the 1990's. Maybe we should be honoring our American heritage by walking the Oregon Trail. A chance happening totally turned my mental state around 180 degrees. When we stopped for arrival beverages in Cacabelos, a very nattily dressed older gentleman approached Mike and asked him if he spoke English. Turns out our new Spanish friend Jaime likes to come down to the café along the Camino for a glass of wine in hopes of practicing his English with English speaking pilgrims. He's done the Camino himself and enjoys sharing the pilgrim camaraderie. When I asked about the beautiful lapel pin on his sports coat, he said he was a retired military man, a former Air Force pilot. He was delighted to learn of our military background as well. We knew we should be heading for lodging, but we lingered over a couple of drinks. When we finally said we had to leave, he said he'd be back that evening. As luck would have it, the only place we found for dinner at a reasonable hour last night was back in the same spot. Jaime returned midway through dinner, so we joined him on the terrace afterwards. He happily answered our questions about life in Spain and the dining habits. Turns out they eat their big meal at a late lunchtime, then have finish off the evening with light fare. We'll have to try that when we're done walking the Camino and are hanging out as tourists. Jaime asked how I'd learned Spanish, so I spoke of growing up in Venezuela. Originally from Santiago, he lived in Argentina during his teenage years and retired to Cacabelos. It was amazing how much we had in common, discussing life in general. Hours earlier we met as strangers, we ended the evening as friends. Today's Camino took us over rolling hills through vineyards of the El Bierzo region, some fields of newly planted vines interspersed with older vineyards. Leaving Cacabelos at dawn, once again we were treated to a spectacular sunrise. We are getting hooked on beautiful sunrises, freshly squeezed orange juice, and café con leche. The El Bierzo soil is obviously very fertile. Vegetable gardens and orchards are tucked everywhere. The path was lined with chestnut trees loaded with nuts and fig trees laden with fruits, not to mention all the apple trees. Whereas the meseta was endless fields of grains uninterrupted by borders or variation, between the hills, varied fields and orchards, the El Bierzo provides a melange of sights and sounds. We walked along a river most of the day, arriving in Trabadelo, a small lumber town, in time for lunch.