Galicia, or "I don't believe in witches but I know they exist"

I am now in Galicia since a few days. It is the last Spanish province that I will walk in, as it is the one where Santiago is.
It is a land of green hills, forests and cows, and of witches. In a German friend's travel guide, the description of Galician people touched on ambiguities such as "I don't believe in witches but I know they exist", which I find very amusing...
So far it has been raining most days, and it is rather cold. I actually bought a poncho a couple of days ago, on top of my rain jacket and rucksack protection, because I was pissed off with being all wet up to the waist. So now I can deal with the rain better, that is when I think of taking out the poncho on time...
It reminds me of Ireland a lot here. First, there is a huge Celtic influence in Galicia. Celtic symbols can be found in many places, and even the weather is similar! Which, of course, means that the landscapes are the greenest I have seen in Spain so far...
Days are not as monotonous as on the Meseta, but the path is a bit harder on the knees, with all the slopes up and down, sometimes quite steep. The good side of it is, I think less about my feet, and it turns out they feel much better than on the Meseta!
I actually enjoy walking here, in spite of the rain, on the paths in old oak woods and under pine trees. And the few times where it gets a bit warmer, the air smells nice of honeysuckle, rosemary and other wild flowers that I wouldn't be able to name, especially in English (but in French or any other language neither, to be honest).
There are two people that I keep meeting every few days, a German lady and a Dutch guy, and the three of us form a sort of little family. It is always a joy to find each other again, and a bit lonely when we let each other go. But every time we think we won't meet again, the Camino proves us wrong a few days later.
But now, I am reaching the end. Santiago is only 4 or 5 days away, and it is very strange to think about it. I am starting to understand why people do it again and again. I met some people who were walking the Camino Francés for the 4th or 5th time. I couldn't understand them...
Now I don't think I would do it, but at least I can feel what pushes them.
There is a sort of sadness in the air, maybe nostalgy already, thinking about what we have gone through, and how close we are to the end. I have the feeling that arriving in Santiago must be a climax and an anticlimax at the same time. We'll see I suppose...
The path keeps teaching to let go...