Santiago de Compostela

June 16
0 km

After a good night´s sleep I began to see the beauty of Santiago de Compostela. I also needed a little time to absorb the idea that I had arrived, which means, of course, that my journey is over. And it just seemed to be getting started.

But this city is pretty amazing, the old section a warren of medieval ruas (Galician for streets), ruelas (lanes), travesas (alleys), prazas (plazas), and flights of stairs, most of it of cobblestone that turns a rich gray or gold when it´s wet, which seems to be most of the time. This city is rainy and cold--the hotels have radiators, and they´re on, even in mid-June.

Santiago is built on hills, so there are a lot of ups and downs and twists and turns as you explore. It´s easy to get lost and round a corner to see another church, a wide praza, or a tiny lane with pastelerias, shoe stores, and boutiques with expensive lingerie. Stumbled across the mercado de abastos, a complex of old stone stalls connected by soaring arched passageways, where merchants sell meat and poultry (saw some skinned rabbits, along with all sorts of pates), fruit and vegetables (beautiful mushrooms with the earth still clinging to them), bread and sweets. The pastelerias here are very tempting, especially when they´ve just taken out of the oven the fragrant torta de Santiago.

In a shop window I saw a little shield reading Santiago, with a design I hadn´t seen in any of the dozens of tourists shops selling camino mementos. The shopkeeper explained to me that it was the banner of the local soccer team.

"Are they good?" I asked.

"They´re bad," she smiled. "No, wait. They´re worse than bad. The manager was embezzling money and now they almost don´t exist anymore. They´re our shame," she shook her head, laughing.

My second pilgrim´s mass
This was the midday mass where I would be mentioned, by starting point and nationality at least, and so back I went to the cathedral, this time clean, well-rested, and without my backpack. I noticed a lot more this time around.

The main altar is the most elaborate and 3-dimensional I´ve ever seen, and is itself the size of a small church. It´s a riot of carved gilded angels, leaves and flowers, cherubim playing trumpets, rearing horses, shields, banners, and swords. It makes you think of the intersection of religious and military iconography, as do all the statues of saints and donors in other churches, each with a raised sword and the severed head of a vanquished Moor underfoot. You can tell they´re Moors because of their turbans.

Santiago on his throne has pride of place on the altar, with his halo looking like the sun going supernova. Throughout the mass you see the very odd sight of hands and arms snaking around Santiago from behind. Pilgrims wait in line to hug the saint, which they accomplish by climbing a set of stairs that takes them up inside the altar. So as the faithfull face the altar, seeing St. James from the front, the pilgrims are approaching him from behind, waiting their turn to embrace and thank and petition him.

It´s deliciously and alarmingly hands-on, and even lips-on, as pilgrim after pilgrim kisses Santiago´s bejeweled back (a germaphobe´s nightmare). There´s a priest stationed back there, casting significant glances at the box with a slot labeled limosnas (offerings), and making sure people don´t hug the saint too long or too hard.

Out in front, it´s standing room only, and some pilgrims have just arrived and still have their backpacks on. Pilgrims scan the crowd to see if they recognize anyone they met along the camino. Then there are hugs and kisses and congratulations. It´s like war buddies meeting up after they´ve made it past V-day.

Later, wandering and window shopping, it hit me how very modern and ancient this city is. It´s no museum--it´s vibrant and up-to-date, with free wifi for laptops in cafes and stylish women in lovely leather boots. But there is history everywhere, and from every era. Santiago was important to the Romans, too, and when they excavated part of the cathedral, they found a Roman cementary under one chapel and a temple to Zeus in another. When the cathedral was expanded significantly, in the 12th century, I think, it basically razed or consumed everything around it, and nearby churches became small chapels in the mammoth cathedral.

Watched a group of African drummers and dancers perform in the Praza de Toural. Ran into a Japanese woman who I´d talked religion with, aided by her hand-held computer of a Spanish-Japanese dictionary. Ate a kebob at a Kurdish place on the Ruela de Fuenterrabia.

I end up where I hoped to end up
Last night I stayed in a ho-hum hotel but tonight I have my reservation at the As Artes hotel (see photo of Where I Hope to End Up). I may even have the room in the photo! It´s the Isadora Duncan room, small but very cute, stone walls, wood floors, and a view not only of a the cathedral tower but also of a walled medieval-looking garden, with a magnolia tree and orderly rows of roses and fruit trees. There´s even a terrycloth robe in the closet, and a sauna downstairs.

I´m happy to be here and even happier to have walked at least part of the Camino. I´ll be making other entries as things come back to me, but the on-the-road entries are at an end, I´m afraid. Many thanks to those of you who came along with me--it was wonderful to be accompanied. Maybe you can take me along on your next adventure.