DAY 250

Saturday 17 March 2012


We all slept well and awoke well, no bruises from pinches, because we all slept in something green. Some of us were disappointed at being denied our yearly St. Paddy's skin tweak.

Then as we were packing up we discovered our precious tins of tuna, mackerel and sardines with the too-cool retro packaging were soaked in oil -- one had sprung a leak. Sadness, and a big mess to clean up. But eventually we were ready to leave the Port area and travel north to the Spanish border and the legendary Santiago de Compostela.


The route lay through the middle of Porto, and Charles programmed a stop at the train station, a sight recommended by several. It was worth it. The former convent had been decorated floor to high ceiling with huge tile (typically blue) with scenes of the history of Portugal. Bonus: Charles noticed an exchange office in the corner, and they did something dozens of large and small banks and other financial institutions wouldn't do: exchanged our leftover Moroccan dirhams, for euros, and at a good rate.

Having secured a good parking spot in the middle of the city we decided to venture up the street, find a bakery and see what we could see. We soon saw the tallest tower of Port, a landmark, and the church attached. Plus, a great bakery where we paused to eat at a table in the window with our coffees, pizza slices and ham and cheese pastry thingies. On first entering Dian asked the woman behind the counter if she spoke English. We loved her answer: "More or less..... LESS!"

We knew we were saying goodbye to the Portugal we loved as we drove north through forests, low mountains and vary scattered rural houses in very small towns. Across the border we lost an hour (Portugal's in its own time zone) and pulled into Santiago de Compostela around 6 PM. We passed a sign for a campsite but it was way overpriced ($35/28 Euros) -- is that any way to treat pilgrims? So despite encrouching darkness we headed straight for the center of town.

A paperboy and a journalist

The wind sock shows how strong the gusts were, particularly difficult with our tall van.

Pilgrims laying down after reaching their final destination

Our initial impression of this famed cathedral couldn't have been more favorable: as we walked toward it Nicole said, "I think I hear bagpipes," and she wasn't losing it, she was almost right, as we turned a corner and were floored by the looming facade of the cathedral we all heard the music and went closer, to an underpass to the left, to see a young man playing the Ullean pipes, the sound echoing and floating over the vast square. Don't forget, it was St. Patrick's Day. Was that guy there every day or just once a year?

Really? Not even electronic candles, but digital ones?

Our friend Don in Valencia, on recommending we stop there, said "I'm not real mystical/mythical but I actually got the feeling a couple times that if/when Atlantis was discovered, it would sort of look like the Cathedral." We all agreed there was something different about the place and took our time exploring inside and out.

Christians come here via a month-long walking trail across Spain. It's considered by many the most important Christian pilgrimage site after Jerusalem and Rome. The Apostle James was entombed there (add St. Peter in the Vatican and we  only had 10 more Apostles to find!) We were able to go down to the tomb under the altar while mass was being said, also to climb stairs above to hug the back of a large gilt backpiece of the altar -- very unusual for that to be allowed during mass we thought. We didn't really get to see the rest of the town, but the university there is 500 years old and also dominates the city life. It was also the furthest Iberian outpost of the Roman empire; the road ended there.

When we finally got our fill and lots of photos we emerged into the dark -- we hated to not be settled into our place for the night by dark. Wandering into the high-end hotel nearby, Dian asked the concierge if he could recommend a place for us to park, and amazingly he was the right guy to ask as he directed us to a large open lot where bus drivers parked for the night. Well-lit, in the open and secure with cameras, it cost only three euros for overnight parking as long as we vacated by 8 AM.

Nearby was almost nothing, only two bar-restaurants open, one packed and noisy but the other a perfect Wi-Fi hangout for the night, open till 2. Charles took advantage and celebrated St. Patrick's Day in Galicia province, one of the Seven Celtic Nations, with a shot of Jameson's. The topper was a Facebook communication from a Galician ex-pat in DC who hipped him to the trailer of the Emilio Estevez-Martin Sheen movie "The Way," coming 13 May, all about Santiago de Compostela. We would definitely look forward to seeing it.

An improvised rain shield to get from the bar to the van