I Did It!!

When we walked into the plaza, it was crowded but not crazy. Having seen other people’s pictures I always wondered how they got such a good, empty shot in front of the cathedral, but people seem to instinctively stay off to the sides. Many teens were there having group pictures taken. There was a proposal happening. Erika and Christina came over and asked if we’d had our picture taken, then took them for us. It was all a little overwhelming.

We wanted to get registered at the pilgrim’s office and get our certificates. Erika led us the exact opposite way, and we stood in a very long line for a couple of minutes until I said that was the line to get in to the noon Mass. So at least we knew how to find that when we were ready.

We traipsed back through the plaza and down a ramp on the other side. The office was on a side street, and we identified which restaurant we’d be celebrating at as soon as we were done registering. The person at the door asked how many were in our group, and I instinctively said five. He told us we had to go to the group check-in downstairs. I wasn’t sure if I’d said the right thing; there were five of us, but we weren’t really a group, we just happened to be there at the same time. Plus, downstairs meant coming back upstairs. However, hardly anyone was down there, so it went really quickly.

We each entered our information into a computer, including the date we started and from what location. When all five of us were done, an assistant submitted it and gave us a ticket with our group number. He also took all our passports to be stamped. I asked if the cathedral had a stamp. The stamp they give counts as the cathedral stamp, and it goes in the front of the book, so I still have an open square. Guess I shouldn’t have been so cranky at that nun after all. Our number was called within two minutes, so except for having to walk back up the stairs, it was a very good decision to be a “group”. We each had our newly-stamped passport, a distance certificate, and our Compostela, printed with our Latin name. The Compostelas are free; the distance certificates cost three euros; and the tube to protect them costs another two or three. I had my tube with my halfway certificate in my pack, so I used that. Then I remembered I probably ought to take pictures of them before they become permanently rolled.

The restaurant we had planned to go to was full, and the one across the street wasn’t shady enough, so we had to walk back up the ramp, through the plaza, past the now-playing bagpiper, up the stairs, and up a hill before we found more restaurants. On my way in, because our destination was downhill for once and because it was so crowded, I had retracted my poles and stowed them in my pack. That was a hard uphill with no poles!

Just outside the arch we ran into Donna and Tom, part of the original Borda crew. I didn’t realize they were still in town, but Nick, who we’d run into yesterday and who’d hiked some with them, saw them and told them we were coming in, so they came looking for us. Tom showed off the shell tattoo he’d gotten the day before (after seeing the one Andrea had gotten after he arrived); Donna was still deciding. Kathy is strongly considering one, so she had lots of questions.

We finally made it to lunch, insisted another couple we all knew have a beer with us while they were waiting for someone, and tried to process that we’d actually done it. We hung out there until everyone was able to check in. Kathy and Mim were staying very close to the cathedral. Erika and Christina were about five minutes in one direction, and I was five in the other, so we all said our goodbyes and went to crash.

My hotel has AC but no tub, so I soaked my feet in the trashcan. I napped and showered and looked up where to find a sports store so I could get some new socks. The original ones are too tight, and the replacement ones are so gunked up with adhesive residue and sheep’s wool stuck to it that I can’t bear to put them on. However, because I didn’t wear socks on this outing, the pattern on the soles of my Tevas hurt my blisters. When I went in to look at socks the saleswoman kept following me around the store. I don’t know if she thought I was going to grab an armful then hobble away, but I’m pretty sure it was clear it would be a slow-speed chase.

The grocery store on my block was closed for some unknown reason. (I would know the reason if I could read Spanish.) That meant going back out for food, but I needed to let another Tylenol kick in before I even considered it. Mim and Kathy enticed me out later by suggesting ice cream; none of us was in the mood for another heavy meal. The new socks helped, but when I realized I’d mapped to the wrong ice cream shop, I didn’t have it in me to walk back to the right one. I did get ice cream before I left, though. Girl’s gotta eat.

I also found another grocery store not too far away. This one had clothes, so I bought a t-shirt and a skirt just to have anything other than my hiking clothes to wear, then got my usual gazpacho but was too tired to bother with bread or cookies.

My hotel is just outside the old town area. When I was in the grocery store I had a strong feeling that I needed to get back to the old town, to “my people”, the fellow pilgrims, because I didn’t belong out here in the city. Half the people in old town are tourists, here for the summer solstice festival, so that didn’t even really make sense. I think reacclimation may be harder than I thought.Read more