We thought we were in good shape for our departure in the dark from Palas de Rei this morning. The clue should have been yesterday at lunch when we sat at a corner café watching the blank stare of pilgrims straggling down the steps from the church and looking for Camino signs. The arrows were posted around the corner on the side of the building not visible to them. We were like traffic cops gesturing to send them in the right direction. Our turn was this morning at the edge of town, when a highly visible arrow took us to the left in the direction of the last albergue and we missed a barely visible small arrow to the right. About 100 meters out of town, something just didn't feel right. We were going uphill when the guide said we'd be heading down, and there was a conspicuous absence of pilgrims ahead or behind. The granite markers that had been practically every 5 meters yesterday were also missing. We backtracked to the last visible sign and started over. Sure enough we found that concealed arrow and got back on track. The sun came up by the time we arrived in Casanova, a must stop for pictures, coffee and a stamp on the credencial. Not much else to see, so carried on. The Camino has taken on a very different flavor since Sarria, less of a pilgrimage and more of a touristy vibe. Tour buses drop folks off at major intersections, looking well rested and well dressed, not exuding the "I've been wearing these 2 shirts for the last month and can't wait to burn them" attitude. I'll bet their trail shoes even still have tread. As you pass through little towns, taxi signs are prominently displayed everywhere... a rarity before. No matter. As the newcomers saunter along the trail, we just blow on by walking with a purpose. We have our Camino on! There are still a few familiar faces. We are delighted to see Everett is still at it, his shin splints manageable at this point. Hector and Walesa, fellow Army retirees we met back in Leon, seem to be on the same schedule. We traded foot care tips and supplies as Hector just lost a toenail. We made it to Melide in time for a lunch of the most scrumptious grilled Galician scallops served under a kiwi fruit trellis. Feeling refreshed, we went to find our lodging. My heart fell when I saw the sign on the dilapidated corner building with a sagging roof. Our night at the truck stop was one thing, but this is way beyond "suck it up Buttercup". Fortunately the corner building was only serving as signage and the albergue was a few doors down.