Dinner at the Hostal de los Reyes Catolicos

Across the Praza do Obradiro from the cathedral is the imposing Hostal de los Reyes Catholicos. The first stone was laid in 1501, on order of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabel. They´d made the pilgrimage to Santiago and, deploring the state of the current pilgrim hostal, ordered another built.

The mammoth stone building, with several internal courtyards and it own chapel, opened to pilgrims in 1509. Like many hospitales of the time, it combined the functions of infirmary and lodgings. Guidelines written in 1524 specify that the hostal be open to all pilgrims and sick people, except those with contagious diseases such as leprosy or plague. Water was boiled for the sick, and each bed had a bell to summon the nurses.

From the day it opened, the hostal provided all pilgrims who could show a compostelana 3 nights free lodging and meals for those 3 days. They no longer offer the former (rooms now are over 200 euros a night) but they do provide food for the first ten pilgrims who show up for each meal--at 9 am, noon, and 7 pm, odd times to eat in Spain but perfect for the American palate. You don´t get to eat with the guests (the dining room charges 42 euros for a tasting menu), but you do get an impromptu tour of the inner workings of a luxury parador.

Last night I gathered with 8 other pilgrims at the entrance to the hostal´s parking garage, pressing up under the eaves to get out of the rain. At 7:05 the doorman appeared in a flurry of robes, counted us and perused our compostelanas, then gave a chit to one of us to present to the kitchen. We were led through the lobby of the hotel, past the elaborate chapel, through many stone courtyards (a wedding party had left behind rose petals in one of the fountains), up through the employee´s area, and into the enormous and cacophonous kitchen. We saw what the guests were to be served: plates of high-quality meats and cheeses, fine wines, crab and lobster and octopus.

We were given simple fare: green salad, meat and potatos, red and white wine, bread. Even the simplest meal in Spain must include wine. We took our meals on trays to a little room in the bowels of the hotel, where we had a great time trying to maintain a conversation in German, English, and Spanish. One guy from Madrid seemed more like a street person than a pilgrim; he smelled like he hadn´t showered in weeks, and his startled blue eyes made me think of some shell-shocked Viet Nam vets I´ve met. There were also two retired ladies from Asturias, who´d walked the Camino del Norte; one of them had had her boots stolen. The pilgrim-thief left behind her boots, full of holes and without laces.