Camino de Santiago, Day 47: Pedrouzo to Santiago de Compostela!!!

Trying to jump for joy in Santiago de Compostela

We made it to Santiago de Compostela!

It was a 20-kilometer walk to Santiago.  We were lucky that the rain didn’t start until several hours into our journey.

As the kilometers ticked off I found myself recalling many of the trials, the people, the beauty and the experiences that I’ve had in the last 46 days.  And I have discovered that I love walking long distances.  I didn’t really want it to end, nor could I believe that the next day I would not be on the road again, traveling through quaint, albeit deserted villages, eating the same Spanish foods that I have grown to detest for their lack of variety or imagination, meeting new people and reuniting with others, pushing myself past the limits of comfort only to discover that not only do I survive, but I thrive.

At the crest of a hill we see Santiago and now it’s really pouring rain.  Like in Burgos, there is a long walk into the city (and oddly enough, Santiago is the first place in the last 800 kilometers that did not have clear yellow arrows to direct the pilgrim).

We traveled from ugly suburban outskirts to the cobblestone streets of the old city.  We heard the whine of Galician bagpipes and entered under an ancient archway that has received pilgrims for 1000 years.  And there was the Cathedral on the plaza.  I stared at it.  This is the Cathedral that I have only seen in pictures.  In front of me.  We did it.  Lots of mixed emotions although surprisingly, I did not cry.  I was, however, very thankful for having had the opportunity to do this.

Had the sun been shining, I would probably have done what most pilgrims do, which is to drop their pack and fall to the ground in relief and lie in the plaza like a corpse in the sun.  But given the puddles made in the worn cobblestones, that was not an option.

We found a hostel and walked around old town.

Jamie with Compostela.

We brought our credentials to the Pilgrim’s Office and at the counter a young woman asked us individually where we had started, and if we had walked the whole way, to which I righteously responded “Every single step!”  That declaration was my reward for many, many miles of discomfort.  I felt proud.  Our names were written in Latin on our Compostela with the date of completion.  It’s now official.

We went to the Cathedral.  Its center is a cluster of gilded sculpture and organ pipes.  The all-knowing eye looks down from the center of the ceiling.  Behind the altar is a statue of St. James which is made of gold and emblazoned with jewels like something in Liberace’s closet.  It is the tradition for pilgrims to hug the statue and so one by one, we entered a narrow passageway behind the altar to do so.  I am not one for this kind of stuff so I gave the statue a reassuring pat as if I had just welcomed him to the corporation.  Then I was struck by lightning.  Jamie gave the statue a huge bear hug.

We then saw the tomb of St. James.  In a tiny room, five people stood gazing at an embossed silver box, the size of a child’s coffin.  Hanging above it was a silver star.  Below and in front were perfect fresh roses.  A spotlight shone upon the box.  I stood there looking at the box and thinking about how I wasn’t feeling anything.  Nothing at all.  I was feeling that I SHOULD be feeling something.  And then I felt like a jerk.  And I wondered why I wasn’t feeling anything.  And then I remembered I’m not Catholic!  Other people were clearly moved, and um, … God Bless ’em?  Zap.

In any case, I don’t believe that St. James is in the box (the story of his transport to Santiago is quite fantastical and there was quite a bit of political motive involved).  Even if he is in the box, being physically close to body parts does nothing for me.  Unless they’re living.  In which case, that’s hot.  Ow… Lightning strikes are painful.

So, I left feeling like a jerk or insufficiently spiritual to understand and an alien to my own people.  I got over it.  The fact is that the Camino has been a deeply spiritual experience for me but I have felt that on the Camino, in nature, seeing the grass in the breeze, listening to the birds…

We entered a small understated side chapel and Jamie and I both said silent prayers.  The sound of the rain pouring out of the cathedral gutters added a soundtrack that was both beautiful and sorrowful.

We headed out into the streets and we ran into many Camino friends, many of whom we believed were long gone.  There were numerous warm hugs.  It seems that Santiago is a place of reunion and celebration.  The wine flowed liberally, as did the stories, the tears and the laughs.

The universal statement in Santiago:  “There is no way to explain this to people at home.”  And the two questions everyone seems to be struggling with: “What’s next?” and “How will I go back to regular life?”

Pictures of the Walk from Pedrouzo to Santiago de Compostela: