Santiago de Compostela
Though we only stayed in Santiago for a few hours, it deserves its own blog entry.
Our day began on a pretty shoddy campsite just west of Gijon, where the shower drains were blocked and the water ran cold. I’d slept badly, having heard what I thought was some people arriving at the campsite and pitching up at around 3am. They were loud, banging things and shouting to each other. But as we packed up the car in the morning, it dawned on me that there were no extra tents or motorhomes; no one had arrived in the night. Instead, we pieced together from the other campers nearby and from the owners of the campsite that some local thugs had climbed onto the wall of the campsite and egged the campers below. Indeed, the back of our car had a dried streak of egg yolk on the rear window. The owners of the campsite had told the police, but it wasn’t clear what difference that would make. All in all, we were quite glad to leave that campsite when we did.
The next stop on our journey was Santiago de Compostela. As Liam drove, I checked for campsites near the city — ideally within about half an hour by public transport, with good reviews, and not too expensive. So far on our journey we’d been lucky with finding campsites; generally speaking, the standard had been good, and there had always been a bus or a train to connect us to the nearest city. In smaller places, we had been able to walk into the centre of town. But Santiago was a different beast.
As the end point of the Camino de Compostela, the Cathedral of Santiago is a huge draw for people from all over the world. Almost 280,000 people completed the Camino in 2016, having walked upwards of 100km to reach their destination. As such, all of the campsites within an hour of the city were geared up exclusively for pilgrims — they provided tents, beds, sleeping bags, towels, soap, everything. A lot of the sites had dorm arrangements, which we didn’t want or need. I also noticed that a lot of the reviews weren’t that good, and that public transport options to actually get into Santiago were generally lacking; most people would walk, I guess. We therefore decided to spend a few hours in Santiago, get some lunch, visit the Cathedral, and then find a camp another hour or so down the road.
We drove into the centre of the city and found an incredibly cheap car park down a hill near the old wall. We walked up steep cobbled paths and along gently winding alleys, until we very suddenly emerged into a vast open square. The hulking Cathedral dominates one side, its tall and beautifully decorated western facade stretching the entire length of the plaza. The other three sides of the square boasted other remarkably grand buildings, though there was no doubt as to which one was the main attraction. Everywhere, people in hiking boots were sat on the smooth stone floor, leaning back on their rucksacks, looking in exhausted silence up at the huge Cathedral above them. As Liam and I moved into the square to join them, I felt conspicuous for our lack of camping gear. Many of the people around us had pushed and struggled for their right to be here, while we had parked a 10 minute walk down the hill; I couldn’t share in their sense of achievement and relief.
We weren’t entirely sure where the entrance of the Cathedral was, and whether we’d have to pay to get in. The ticket office seemed to be selling access to the Cathedral museum, but there was no mention of the Cathedral itself. We walked around the outside and found a quiet entrance to the side, and asked the guide there how much it was to get in. He said it was free, so after a quick bag-check we left the brilliant sunshine behind and wandered through to the shadowy interior of the Cathedral.
The inside was beautiful, or at least the bits of it I could see were. There were restoration works going on throughout the building, and the majority of the interior was covered with thick protective plastic sheeting. I caught glimpses of glittering gold and shining jewels from between the gaps, but not a single whole facade or mural was on display; it was all very tantalising. The scale of the space was almost oppressively grand. The ceiling was too far away to make out in any great detail, and every column, each vaulted canopy, was intricately carved. It was too much to take in, so I stopped trying, and instead I just followed the general flow of people around.
Every few feet there was a stand of prayer candles, each one with a cluster of people nearby murmuring in quiet contemplation. I was acutely aware of the number of dusty-clothed travellers bent forwards, eyes closed, intently focused. As I had done outside in the square, I felt like an intruder, voyeuristic, an opportunist; the worst kind of tourist. I felt — more than I had in any other cathedral or church — that this wasn’t my space. There were plenty of non-praying tourists there, too, and they seemed unfazed by the presence of lots of people deep in thought. But I resolved to be respectful and quiet, and to give people their personal space. It worked, to a degree.
Near the middle of the cathedral was an enclosed chamber, into which you could go inside to “touch the apostle” of St James, who is reportedly buried at the Cathedral. There was a queue to get in, and though I was tempted by the gaudy shining gold and richly jewelled interior, which I could see snatches of from outside, I decided not to join the queue. I don’t believe in Jesus or the power of the apostles or touching things that claim to be remnants of them, so I felt that I had no business queuing up just for the “experience”.
We didn’t stay long in the Cathedral; apart from the apostle chamber, there wasn’t that much to see. We left and meandered through the old city to find some lunch. Every shop we passed sold souvenirs for pilgrims or tourists — walking sticks, fridge magnets, shot glasses, pottery, fans. The streets were busy with travellers, but we found a small cafe with some space. After lunch we walked back to the car and headed on, towards Vigo. Having done our touristy duties, it felt good to be back on our own chosen “camino”.
