25/10/12: Santiago

Yup - this was at least one of "the days" to mark my walk.

My day began as I went back into the wonderfully welcoming kitchen to find it already half full. While I was drinking tea others from the night before entered and I was offered yoghurt and bread and some apple. A light but impromptu breakfast and I was ready to head out. Fortunately it was now about 08:45 and light enough for walking. I could clearly see the grey clouds so put on my waterproofs just in case.

As I left the complex (for that's what I then realised it was - a large, sprawling holiday camp with an albergue at one end) I very soon realised that we were already right on the outskirts of Santiago and I was quickly beside the early morning traffic entering the city. Not surprisingly there was a wide dedicated sidewalk beside the road which made the walking both safe and easy. The way was so clearly indicated that it would have been utterly impossible to now get lost. I followed large enamelled signs into the historic centre and about an hour later found myself standing beside the enormous church of Santiago.

There was the matter of the compostela to address but since I was beside the church and since I could see a door open (this was not the main entrance) I decided to go in. I was glad I did actually. I had found myself in two minds about this part of the walk. While I'm quite happy to visit these historic places I had told myself that if I found myself among massive crowds and hundreds of restless pilgrims, my motivation to queue for an hour or more for a compostela might be stretched so thin as to make me decide against it. Upon finding the interior of the church calm and uncrowded (during the morning mass) I was happy to wander around this huge space taking in the sights and the architecture. I confess to somewhat ignoring the signs requesting no photography and quickly realised I was not alone. However I had stopped short of photographing directly down the main aisle (impressive amounts of gilt and a very interesting pair of organs) while the priest delivered the mass - which was not a restraint shown by a number of others with their video cameras and iPhones.

I bumped into a French guy I'd last met in the albergue in Bóo de Pielagos. He had been suffering from tendonitis for the previous four days and thus his journey was ending in Santiago. When he showed me his leg, I instantly understood that this was indeed the complaint I had suffered back near Guemes, despite my belief at the time that it wasn't. Mine recovered in a matter of days and has not troubled me since. This poor guy's lower leg was red, swollen and painful.

I visited the reliquary of St James in its elegant silver casket. It was sheer curiosity, nothing more. Fortunately at this hour the crypt was not busy and apart from a few knelt in prayer there was ample space for a good view. And again, while the temptation to photograph was certainly there, I witheld - out of respect for those in prayer (that included a nun). Once again others felt no such need for restraint and were busy flashing away with their cameras. I found a moment for reflection, not merely about how amazingly selfish some people can be (and disrespectful of culture) but about how and why exactly a sliver box that may or may not contain certain remains could continue to command such devotion and attention. Honouring the dead seems to be a universal human trait and yet - who decides which person shall become more honoured or revered than another? It seem to matter only who we say is in the box and not who actually might or might not be. And in this case it's all based on such flimsy accounts.

Satisfied with my visit to the church I headed out via a different door to find the pilgrim office. A short queue only and I was there. A few questions and a form to fill in (mostly ticking boxes - the church have this sewn up tidily) and viola! I've finally been certified! Oh yes - I know many of you believe I should have been certified years ago ;0) As I was waiting for the assistant to complete the formalities I overheard the American chap next to me being told that sorry, but they were unable to issue a compostela. I wasn't around for the outcome of that particular discussion but I can imagine some would be disappointed.

The sun had come out and I wandered over the road to one of the hundreds of gift shops. In this respect the place was Blackpool by another name, so no prizes for guessing which sorts of items were being duplicated in every gift shop around the square. I bought a cardboard tube for the compostela - might as well prevent it getting screwed up in the back of my rucksack, although it'll probably end up languishing in some dark cupboard for the rest of its life. I bumped into Carmen once more, who had just obtained her compostela too. We said what is most likely our final goodbye with vague utterances about meeting up again in either France or Spain. She's fun and friendly, so maybe we will. Either way, that's the camino for you.

Since I have the enormous luxury of returning to Santiago in just over a week's time and thus a chance to indulge in the history and feel of the place in considerably more comfort, I felt I'd get on my way (especially with the sun out after yesterday's downpour) and leave the tourism for my next visit. I had time to pass through the main square in front of the church and some kind lady offered to take my photo in front of the main doors - so I now have the photo to prove it :0) I headed out of the main square to the sound of bagpipes being played under an arch!