Birvidik

What we did on our holidays�

We went on the bus to Santiago de Compostela. It was nice. There are lots of buildings and churches and things. And squares and arches. We stayed in a hotel. It was cheap but good. It was nice. Then we went to see the Cathedral. It was big. The organ was very loud. We ate dinner in the street. It was raciones. These are like big tapas. They were nice. We stayed up very late and listened to music in the square. It was nice. Then we went drinking. It was nice too. The next day we came home by bus. We feel like shit. We can?? t keep up with the Spanish.

What a city. If you?? ve never been, and you get the opportunity, jump at it. The outskirts are like any other city, but when you get to the centre it?? s overwhelming. The whole of the old town is a labyrinth of narrow streets opening up into squares of all shapes and sizes. The squares are lined with cafes and usually have a monument or fountain in the centre.

The town has evolved rather than been planned and so it?? s quirky, idiosyncratic and always fascinating. The medieval coexists with later periods and the modern day. You wander through streets lined by 12th century arches and through alleyways between buildings where two people pass with difficulty. It?? s easy to get the impression of what it must have been like to live in those times.

Everywhere you come across churches, monasteries, convents, university buildings and the like. Wherever you look up you see ornate religious images topping the buildings. On street corners and the walls of the squares you suddenly find yourself leaning against a baroque carving that?? s hundreds of years old. Despite all this, it?? s not a museum piece. People live and work here. And party. My how they party.

We arrived about mid-day on the 21st June, along with several thousand pilgrims. Said pilgrims continued to arrive thick and fast, the arrival rate increasing as the feast of St. James (25th July) approached. On that day thousands of people pack into the Praza de Obradoira and file through the Cathedral. Luckily, when we were there, there weren?? t that many people.

Then there is the cathedral. Those of you who know me will be aware that I am rarely lost for words, but I cannot begin to describe the place. The photographs do not do it justice, it is awe inspiring. The huge vaulted naves are covered in intricate statuary and reliefs, and the whole thing is dominated by a massive gilded altar which covers the (purported) remains of St. James. To add to the effect the gigantic organ was blasting out devotional music. When it pulled out all the stops and let the bass really reverberate it pressed all the buttons in the psyche. They certainly know a thing or two about manipulating emotions. Mind you, with 2 000 years of practice and the tricks they picked up from the previous lot, that?? s to be expected. Being able to rationalise it doesn?? t stop it working though. It?? s a very strange sensation.

Another strange sensation was the affront I felt at the behaviour of some of the other visitors. It?? s right that such a part of mankind?? s history, culture and heritage should be open to all, but it is still a place of devotion for those who believe. Despite my derision for organised religion and any belief in the supernatural, a little respect for other people?? s sensitivities is only fitting.

It was good that almost the entire cathedral was open to the public, believers and non-believers alike. Given that there were people in there praying, it seemed to me that the few requests made (in almost every language) regarding behaviour were quite reasonable: No headgear, no flash photography, no videorecording and suitably lowered voices. There was also one small area set aside where people could sit/kneel and contemplate the Eucharist. It was asked that no photographs be taken in that area. These were complied with by most, but there were a significant number of people shouting & laughing, flash photographs going off all the time, the ubiquitous baseball caps and videocameras running.

Some were very intrusive with their cameras, to the point of coming right into the personal space of those praying to photograph them. Others walked around those in the area set aside for prayer and contemplation, and one guy even stuck his video camera in and waved it around whilst speaking a commentary over it. Bloody appallingly crass, arrogant and insensitive.

OK ??" rant over, I feel better now.

In a vain (and foolhardy) attempt to keep up with the Spanish partying we retired to the hotel for a couple of hours?? kip in preparation for the evening. Throughout the fortnight there were a whole range of musical and artistic events, all free and mostly in public squares or one of the churches or colleges. We were a day late for Joachim Cortes and a day early for Maceo Parker (the saxophonist).

We went out at 9 p.m., wandered the streets for a bit and then ate at one of the street cafes. By our normal bedtime we were just starting the main course. Just before midnight we finished eating and made our way through the crowded streets to the Praza de Quintana, where there was a Gallician group (see photo) followed by a Mozambiquan band. It was mobbed.

It was still mobbed at 2:30 ??" 3:00 a.m. when we wandered on to a bar for a final drink. How do the Spanish do it? By my reckoning, if you add up the time spent eating, drinking and working, they only have time for about 4 hours sleep every 24 hours.

Next instalment should be from Ria de Arosa. Once this bloody fog lifts.

Stop press: Might be here a couple of days while we try to find a dentist to fix Bob�s bridge.