May 6, 2016 Walked from Azambuja to Santorem. My start at the Hotel Ouro was about a mile out of town.

However, I managed to catch up with a few of the walkers who had spent the night sleeping at the Bombieros  Voluntarios (the advertised pilgrim hostel not to be found.) My first companion was an Italian, Bruno. He seemed a bit lost and I have to admit that at some point he just disappeared, only to catch up after I had eaten a leisurely ĺunch.

The walk was along the Rio Tejo which was mostly hidden behind huge dikes built to protect the villages from floods. Much of the walk was  along the top of the dike.

In one spot new houses were built on top of the dikes, perhaps a clever move, as they would never be filled with water.

I ate my lunch seated at a bench outside of a cafe in Porto de Muge. It was there that I met Mario, a tiler from London environs, with whom I walked the rest of the day.

The walk was long, about 23 miles but fairly without episode until arriving in Santorem. The approach to the city, which was once the capital of Portugal, is a seemingly non-ending climb of about 140 meters through the new part of the city to the old.  I bade Mario goodbye as he went off to look for a bed in old town. Then I started looking for my hotel. My directions simply were to continue straight on the road. After about a mile I asked a cabbie how to get to the Hotel Umu.  He responded by telling me I should either take the metro or a cab. I said that since I had walked this far I would walk, or drag myself, to the hotal. Down a steep hill and I was back in the new town where my accommodation was a business hotel without a restaurant! It was at that point that I decided it had been a gross mistake to have made reservations ahead. Clearly those making the accommodations either traveled by car or they simply looked at the internet. They have not walked from the Hotel Ouro to this hotel!
I left my rucksack and walked back up the hill. No way was I going to walk this far without seeing the sights.

Apparently, we are still ahead of the crowds; there were only two restaurants open in the old part of the city. I walked into one of them and ordered a baccalaua a bras. I had just taken the first mouthful when in walked Mario with Don a commercial real estate broker from Vancouver.

We then spent a pleasant two hours listening to Fado as selected by our friendly host: Amalia, Mariza and Ana Moura, whom we had heard in San Francisco a week earlier. Without my request a taxi was hailed and I happily went to bed.
Tomorrow's walk is almost as long. I cannot wait for a 9:00 breakfast. No way can one start a 20 mile walk at 9:30 just after having eaten a hearty breakfast.