Galicia invites you to look at the skies to enjoy astrotourism
Around her, the night is alive with subtle motion: a pair of foxes threading through reed beds, the slow lift of a heron from marsh to moonlit flight, the soft, rhythmic tapping of a sleeper town. Closer, the scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby stall mingles with brine and peat smoke. Voices rise and fall below — laughter, the low murmur of old men at a cafe, a young man playing a melancholy tune on a guitar — notes that curl up and are swallowed by the dark.
"There is no witch who wants to be" ( Non hai meiga que queira ) is a local saying, but Galicians know the night is when the Meigas (witches) and Mouros (ancient spirits) move.