You Can Go Back Again (but don’t expect it to be the same)

by Tracy Saunders

I have just returned from a driving trip to Santiago .  This time I drove 1180 kms in 14 hours. The last time it was 860 kms in six weeks. Was there any difference?

Yes, of course. This time I had only myself to talk to. I played all my favourite tapes (Pat Metheny, Annie Lennox, Paul Simon, Hugh Marsh – who is Canadian, Alannis, tambien, a bit of Spanish stuff). I had no-one to talk to but myself, and I did a fair bit of that – and answered myself at that. Santiago called me, and that was that. It was all meant to be so simple.

I booked an airline ticket in February. Me voy a Santiago, I announced. I wanted to do some promotion for my book but above all, I wanted atmosphere, “Headspace”: a time to remember who I  was, and why I had walked for so long. However, as I have read recently on another Pilgrim Forum, "God laughs when he hears you are making plans". The night before my flight, I couldn’t find my passport, nor could I find my Spanish “Residencia”, which was with the passport.  I took a “monton” of stuff (including a fotocopia of the misplaced passport) with me to the airport with my photo (“Look…it’s me!), but to no avail. After a few tears, and I am sorry to say a temper tantrum, I realised that I was not supposed to get on the plane. So I drove, with a short stop for a kip in a truck stop parking lot  – in my sacred sleeping bag; I even had my Shell over the mirror-  in Zamora. I saw the sun come up over Cebreiro and realised that all was well.  In fact, all was better than I had expected. I was free of deadlines, and schedules: a Pilgrim once more. Of a different colour. Pilgrimas come in different shapes and sizes.

We do a lot of thinking while walking. But much of it is about the next refugio, a good night’s sleep, a shower, preferably warm if not hot. Driving is different. It is more focussed; more condensed.  One question I focussed on is “Why?” Why is this city (beautiful, but Granada , where I lived for three years, is more beautiful) so compelling that I have to ignore the voices in my head and say: “I don’t care! I’m going!”

It only took a morning, a short morning, for me to find out..

The pilgrim mass was not well-attended, but the nun who sang had a beautiful voice and I settled myself down in front of the supulchre (actually: parked my bum where the Pope had parked his is more accurate and a lot more poetic) to listen. Almost no-one came through, and I sang my responses, very quietly and with no little embarrassment, even though there was no-one to hear me.  Afterwards, I went up to give the apostle a hug.  Perhaps I was too long.  I was poked in the back by the priest wielding the collection box to move along. I was “not amused”.  Oh well.  They have to have something to do after all.

I wanted to go to Padron.  I have written about Iria Flavia in my book but have never actually been there.  Don’t blink…you’ll miss it.  The church, in Padron, dedicated to Santiago was closed, and in the bar adjacent I was greeted with a blank stare when I asked for the key..  Again…oh well. Asi es la vida de los pelegrinos. I met a pilgrim from Austria near the bridge: "Can I help you?" I asked. "Estoy completamente perdido!" she answered, so I gave her directions to the Albergue, but she refused my offer of a lift. We forget.

I drove down the river to a lovely spot called Dos Torres, and had a small picnic (and uprooted some violets which are now sort-of flourishing on my terrace in Marbella).  The next day I went to Lugo – another place I had written about, but had never seen.  To my astonishment, not only was it exactly what I had expected and written about (right down to the apple trees, for heaven’s sake), but I felt totally familiar with the layout.

Maybe it was just because the old city is so well contained within its walls. Maybe I have been there before.  Who knows?

That night I sought out Casa Manolo and found that it had changed location, and become very contemporary in décor but still served brilliant menus for 8 Euros, (try the chiperones - scrumptious) including fresh strawberries for dessert.  A pilgrim landmark despite the changes.

The cathedral itself presented more changes than just the sentinel with the collection box (which I didn’t contribute to:  I saved my money for Santa Susanna…women especially: do seek her out for her look of courage and resignation.  She’s “around the back”). No longer can you imprint your fingers in the Tree of Jesse, neither can you knock yourself out on the Santo dos Croques: they are being preserved “for Restoration”.  God knows what that means, or what the Pilgrims of Ages Past would have made of it.  Maybe they are going to fill in the fingers with cement to make them nice and smooth again? I was directed to the Sacristan for complaint, but honestly, what is the point? Anyway, I saw several people strain themselves over the railings. And quite right.

Finally, after four previous visits, I saw and smelled the Botefumeiro, which is, no pun intended, the Essence of the Cathedral, and sat in the right hand corner in front of the Portico de Gloria and just…well…Glorified.

Yes, you can go back again.  What you take with you may be different, but you know, what you come away with will be the same. If you just listen.

April 2008