I did not expect to be back on the Camino so soon. Although this time, it was not for the purpose of walking. I was invited to spend a week with a friend who lives in Lugo, an hour away from Santiago de Compostela. Santiago of the field of stars known because of the quartz in a nearby hill, the Pico Sacro, that sparkles when lit in the dark.
She and her colleague were going to Santiago for the festival of St James to receive a medal presented by the Archicofradia and to film the light and firework show on the 24th of July. They also wanted me to see their photographic exhibition at the Paradores Hotel, where my photo hung. I had met Susan and German while walking the Camino two years ago. They hailed me and asked if I wanted to participate in their Camino project. I obliged. They were creating a visual register of pilgrims walking past German’s ancestral farmhouse in Vilei.
So here I was again in Spain, and on the way from Madrid to Lugo at one of the rest stops, I stepped out of the coach to breathe in the air, which struck me because it was so familiar. It was good to be back.
I had left London at 7.30 am and the bus finally pulled up at the bus terminal in Lugo 14 hours later. The city is the only one in the world surrounded by a still intact Roman wall. It is a nice place, with a river flowing through it surrounded by the Galician countryside. Not very big, but big enough to feel one was still in civilisation with access to conveniences normally found in a city.
I had a few days to become acquainted with Lugo and some of the surrounding area. We drove an hour north to Cathedral Beach, known for its stone arches that resemble those of a cathedral, we swam in a bay with crystal clear water of 20 degrees C - perfect for swimming. We had tapas and beer in tiny fishing villages. We went shopping at the local markets and had a pedicure in Lugo’s only beauty salon and run by a beautiful Columbian woman.
On the 24th of July, we set off early for Santiago. Based on previous years, Susan warned me that the city would be packed with pilgrims, visitors and locals who had come to be part of the festival, so much so that we would not be able to drive through the city But to our surprise, it was quiet. There were not many people, even fewer than when I had arrived in October of 2011, long past the main tourist season. Pepe, the owner of Obeiro, Susan’s favourite wine bar, spoke of the reduced numbers of pilgrims choosing to stay once they arrived. Many left the same day.
We made our way to the Paradores Hotel, one of many belonging to a chain of four star hotels run by the Spanish government. In a previous lifetime, they had all been beautiful historic buildings of importance - often religious. In one of the courtyards, in the interior of the hotel, hung German’s photos of pilgrims, printed on enormous sheets of weatherproof canvas, suspended on chains. There was one of a pilgrim on horseback, one of a man who had travelled by bicycle, a picture of a couple in their 80s and the woman had arrived wearing a skirt - not the usual clothing of a pilgrim. Another photo was that of a young couple - an Australian woman and a Spanish man who had met on the Camino, fallen in love and were still together. I was impressed. And then there was me, my image bigger than my real size. I had forgotten how brown I had become after having walked almost 700km by this point. There I was with my backpack that was almost as big as me, holding onto my walking poles. As a friend told me later, it didn’t look like me.
We then went to our hotel, situated a few kilometers from the city centre, where we lunched and freshened up. At 5.30 pm we returned to the Cathedral of St James for the mass where Susan and German, amongst others, would be presented a medal to honour their work promoting the Camino. It was a medal conferred by a group known as the Archicofradia. The Archicofradia is the organisation commissioned by the monarchs of Spain and inaugurated in 1499 to build a hospital for pilgrims. It was to be “a Confraternity ordered and instituted, of both sexes, from whichever province or nation, in any part of the world”. Build and run a hospital it did in the building which is now the Parador, the Hostal los Reyes Catolicos. In modern times this religious organisation supports projects to help pilgrims and to encourage pilgrims to be of service to other pilgrims. - quoted from http://johnniewalker-santiago.blogspot.dk/2012/07/opportunity-to-meet-reflect-and-pray-in.html
We had VIP seats, right in front of the priest where we had the best view of the Botafumeiro, a swinging metal container in which incense is burned. I had seen this before but it was amazing to be so close. One would surely die, if hit in the head by the incense holder as it came flying at high speed from on high through the Cathedral.
The mass ended with the medal ceremony. Perhaps thirty or so people including a dozen teenagers were presented with a medal - on one side was an engraving of St James and on the other the red Knights’ Templar Cross.
After the mass we made our way back to the Paradores. The hotel was hosting a very expensive dinner in celebration o the feast day and the dinner guests would then sit on the terrace to view the light and fireworks show at midnight. We were not dining at this expensive dinner, but Susan and German had a spot on the terrace where they would film the spectacle.
We had a few hours to kill as we waited. We had some food at the bar and took in the ambience.
At about 10.30, Susan received a text from a friend asking her if we had heard. Heard what, was the question.
We discovered then of the tragedy that had hit Santiago, on the eve of the feast day of St James. Many pilgrims would have walked the Camino to arrive at this special time. The dinner guests were still eating their expensive meal. We learned that scores had died just outside of the city when the high speed train from Madrid derailed and carriages were strewn in all directions, some landing on top of others. The final death toll came close to 80.
The entire festival program that was to span a number of days was cancelled. We were all in shock. It was a surreal feeling to be so close to the tragedy that it was palpable in the air and yet to be thankfully, unscathed. Eventually some time after midnight, Susan and I left the hotel to look for a taxi. We ended up circling the old part of the city unable to find one and returned once again to the Paradores. The crowds that previously had filled the enormous square in front of the Cathedral had disappeared. It was no longer the Santiago I remembered from two years ago. The city had started mourning her losses. Later when we returned to our hotel, we were to find out that the the phones had not stopped ringing with people requesting bookings who must now make the journey to Santiago to attend to loved ones who were injured or dead.
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