I'm very fond of this thread, so I'm going to keep it going with a couple of meals which were memorable for all the wrong reasons!
Triacastela - early December, 1998. I arrived at the municipal albergue only to find it seemingly closed. After hammering on the door for a while, a Brazilian pilgrim opened it and greeted me effusively. I am really not a tactile person so it was very uncomfortable to be hugged long and hard by a complete stranger. We arranged to have dinner together in the refugio. She claimed that she already had all the food necessary, so I went out to buy some wine to go with it. When I returned, she claimed that she never drank alcohol, and that I should keep out of the kitchen while she prepared dinner. Dinner was served! She'd gone to a lot of trouble to make several dishes - of those dishes, I remember a lovely tomato and onion salad, fried cheese (weird!) and a whole carton-full of fried eggs. There was more, but I don't remember it. We sat down, and she insisted on saying grace - and it was a long grace, about 10 minutes, as I recall. Of course, everything was cold by then. About ten minutes into the meal (I was really filling up with that salad) she announced that even though she didn't drink, she was going to try some wine. She filled a plastic tumbler with about half a litre of wine, and then proceeded to down it in short order and fill her glass again. After the meal, she insisted that we went to Mass, which we did. She was extraordinarily drunk, and made a total exhibition of herself. I was absolutely mortified. As we got ready for bed, she invited me to share her bed with her, and proceeded to follow me to the open-plan showers, where she just stood and stared. The following morning, as though nothing had happened, she announced her intention to hitch a ride to the next town, as she couldn't be bothered to walk. I last saw her in that huge refugio in SdC, where she had met up with her original walking partner, and her newfound boyfriend. She seemed happy.
Triacastela - later in December
I was on my way back from Santiago, seeing how far I could get before I needed to return to London. I arrived at the refuge, and once again found the door blocked. Eventually, my knocking was answered by a man - an absolutely drop-dead gorgeous man. He was Portuguese, but spoke pretty good English. We agreed to have dinner together. He insisted on going to buy the food, while I was charged with getting the wine. Later, there was food - I don't remember what it was, but I do remember that it featured numerous fried eggs. At this point, my friend told me that although some people thought he had a problem with alcohol, he himself didn't. He did mention that he liked to start the day with a litre of white wine. In any case, I clearly didn't buy enough wine because I remember that we ended up at a bar which was halfway up the steps between the refugio and the church. I think I bought a lot of brandy that evening. The following day, I woke up to find that my companion had already left. I found him in that halfway bar, charming the landlady out of coffee and brandy which he didn't have the money to pay for. During the course of the evening before, when he was very, very drunk, he admitted that he was a Portuguese criminal, who'd walked off from a good conduct Christmas leave pass. and was now roaming the Galician part of the camino, waiting for the picking season to start in France.
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