Study Abroad
Day 48
March 6th, 2006
6:33PM

My pseudo-pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela:

This weekend’s trip was to Santiago de Compostela, which is in the upper left hand corner of Spain, in the province of Galicia which is right above Portugal. There they speak Gallego, which is the bastard child of Portuguese and Spanish. Santiago de Compostela is famous for being the destination of a pilgrimage route that’s been followed since the 10th century. Father Hazel did the pilgrimage a few years ago, and talked about it non-stop for a whole year after that. And yes, I went by myself (gasp!)

I left the Fund on Friday at about noon, took the train to Madrid, another train to the Chamartin station with about 45 minutes before my train left. I had plenty of time to figure out where I was going and get myself a delicious tortilla Espanola sandwich.

The train left at 2:00, and I spent the next few hours eating my sandwich, listening to music, looking at the scenery (the most beautiful train ride I’ve taken, I think) and reading “Harry Potter y el misterio del principe.”

Did I tell you I bought that? The Spanish translation just came out last week. If I hadn’t been on the bus to Cadiz I would have loved to go to a release party (very tempted, of course, to give away the ending to the Spaniards). But I settled for buying it on Sunday in the train station in Jerez. It is awesome. My reading skills in Spanish are fairly strong, and of course it helps that I’ve read it already in English. It translates pretty well, and it’s fun to see how words and names change into Spanish. The “You-No-Poo” joke is not funny in Spanish, though. And the “I am Lord Voldemort” anagram changed Tom Marvolo Riddle into Tom Sorvolo Ryddle (Yo Soy Lord Voldemort). Okay, that’s enough obsessing about that.

The British man sitting across from the on the train assumed that only an American or British person would read “Harry Potter” (even if it was in Spanish) and asked if I was British. I replied that no, I was American and he and I had a nice conversation that kept me entertained until we pulled into Santiago. His name was Lee. We talked a lot about languages because he is working in Madrid teaching English right now, but we also talked about music and movies and stuff. He’s been everywhere, all over Latin America studying Spanish, so he was very interesting. Plus he had a British accent. So it was awesome.

I left the train station and walked for about 15 minutes up the street to my hostel. I checked in, made my bed in my room. I had reserved a bed in a room that sleeps six, but I was the only one staying there that night so I had the room to myself. It was still early, so I went for a walk around the center of the city. I got some chocolate ice cream, too. Then I went to an internet café (which apparently is the teen hangout of Santiago, despite the blaring Christian music) and spent about an hour there, e-mailing my parents to tell them I was alive. Then I went back to the hostel and went to sleep.
I got up on Saturday and the nice owner of the hostel made me some tea and a muffin and talked to me a little. She let me talk to her in Spanish even though she spoke perfect English. I asked her how the weather was and she told me that it was raining. So I grabbed my umbrella and headed out.

I went to the TI first to get a map, then made my way over to the Museum of Pilgrimages. It was a small museum, and I was the only one in it that day. I wandered a bit, looking at the random objects—everything from bits of the Cathedral that had apparently fallen off, to “souvenirs” from ancient pilgrimages to statues of Saint Santiago the Pilgrim. Because I was all alone in the museum, I thought it would be okay to try and take a picture of myself with one of those statues. At that moment, the museum guy walked in and saw my awkward picture taking maneuver. It was bad.

My next stop was another museum, this one about Galician culture. It started to rain harder as I tried to find it, and I found myself completely soaked at only 11:00 in the morning. The culture museum was clearly just built recently, and it was incredible. Every possible facet of Galician culture had an exhibit in this museum—art by Galician artists, shipbuilding, fishing, history of building houses, farming, clothing, ceramics, lace-making, children, marriage, cobblers, tools—everything! Of course, all of the museum’s information was in Gallego, but it’s pretty close to Spanish and I could understand it pretty well by the end of the day.

My next stop was the modern art museum. They had a group of permanent pieces but the main focus was the exhibit of art by Roman Singer (a German artist, I think). His art philosophy seemed to be “hey, what would happen if…?” His exhibits were more like the science or children’s museum than like any art museum I’ve ever been to because it was interactive. There were a bunch of kayaks hanging from the ceiling. There was a leaf-blower you could turn on, a hat, and a table. There was a room with half a bike lying on either side. He had a series of movies he’d taken, too. One was just a bag of sand being poured onto a radio playing classical music until it was completely covered. Everything was very, very weird, but it was fun to run around and take more awkward pictures of myself.

After that, I went to a pretty park where I had a picnic in the pretty gazebo. It was pretty. And delicious. Since I was already wet, it didn’t matter that I was sitting on the wet ground, but the gazebo did shield my sandwich.

After lunch I went over to the Cathedral, which is obviously the town’s main attraction. The reason people take pilgrimages there is because the Cathedral houses an important relic—the remains of St. James, which are under the high altar. It’s a huge Romanesque church, and beautiful. I explored for awhile, went down the stairs and saw the silver chest with the famous bones in it and I had to wonder—how long has it been since they’ve opened that box? Do they check on the bones every once in awhile? How else would they know if they’re still in there? And then a lightning bolt came out of the sky and struck me.

At this point, I’m still wet and cold. I decided I would go find a place described in my guidebook as a good spot to get some hot tea. I’m not great with a map, but this place was not where it was supposed to be. So I basically was outside, exposed to the pouring rain for about an hour. To entertain myself I played a little game I like to call Fuck You Umbrella, which goes like this:
Walk 5 steps.
A gust a freezing wind blows my umbrella inside out. I snap it back into place.
Repeat.
Let me tell you, it gets more fun the longer you play.

It was starting to be siesta time, and everything was closing, so I went the only place I could think to—back to the hostel. I asked nice lady if she would consider letting me sit in the living room for awhile. Which I did. Awkwardly. I shivered there for two hours while I’m sure she would have rather I did not sit adjacent to her and her boyfriend. But I was cold and wet, and beyond being polite.

At 6:30 I decided I’d better get the hell out of there, so I walked back to the Cathedral for vespers. It was a nice service, with some music this time (a nun warbled a bit for us). Still no idea about any of the prayers or responses except that “And also with you” is “Y con su espiritu.” I’d hoped they would burn some incense in the giant hanging…incense…holder…thing. I heard they build it in the first place to try to drown out the stench of the dirty pilgrims. But no go.

After church I got some dinner at Burger King, because I saw it and realized I’d been craving it for weeks. It was delicious, and I sat there for a couple of hours, eating and reading some more Harry Potter. Then I hiked downhill to the train station and boarded my night train to Madrid at 10:35.

I was fortunate enough to not have someone sitting next to me, so I was able to curl up on the floor under the seats and actually get a little sleep. I woke up at 6:30AM to find the train stopped in Avila. And it didn’t move. For 3 hours. It took a few minutes to find the source of the problem out the window—a few inches of snow on the ground brought the train to a halt. I was a little nervous that I would be in Avila indefinitely, but after they let me off the train to get some water and I had a little picnic breakfast, everything was cool. We got into Madrid close to eleven instead of the scheduled 7:45, but I made the 12:20 train back to Toledo and got back to the Fund in time for lunch. So it was all good.

Pictures from this weekend:
http://minnesota.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2055602&l=3d722&id=13900469