Galicia

20th–26th June – Galicia
Santiago de Compostela – our campsite is on the side of a 4:1 hill (so what’s new?) that’s situated in a new urbanisation (unfortunately) but once inside the site we are oblivious to what’s around us – particularly after a glass of vino tinto (delighted to see other Eribas – Freda’s cousins) on the site. There are some seriously expensive camper vans here, huge, and we have taken some delight in seeing them struggle to park on the steep slopes and smallish pitches.

There may be better caravans but no-one has an ironing board and washing line like mine – there were some envious glances as I ironed outside (yes, camping does make you a sad person!).

Graham tells me that Spain has the highest unemployment rate in the EU (hard to believe with all the infrastructure development, new factories, etc.) – I digress. We decided having sat in the car for 7 hours yesterday that we would walk 2.5 km into Santiago. It’s always an effort when you first arrive in new places to find where you want to be. We took the wrong route and added quite a bit to our journey.

At one point we ran out of “Catedral” signs and wandered aimlessly, although we could see the splendid towers but never quite made it there. We happened upon a very professional brass band in one of the narrow colonnaded streets and spent some time with many others enjoying a free concert. Then our search for the cathedral continued - in the end I asked someone (yes, humiliating, but at least we found the piazza). Santiago del Compostelo was absolutely stunning and the piazza relatively empty. However, it was not as I’d expected. I had imagined something on a smaller and more intimate scale rather than the size of Tiananmen Square (I may be exaggerating a little!). St. James’ remains are interred within the cathedral, making Santiago the third most holy place in Christendom after Jerusalem and Rome. The Saint appeared (allegedly) alongside Ramiro 1 (King of Asturais 844 AD) in battle and helped vanquish the Moors from Northern Spain; being responsible for slaughtering 60,000 Moors.
People from Galicia pride themselves on their genetic links with Gaelic-speaking people and see themselves as Gaelic rather than Spanish. We’ve found everyone to be very helpful and friendly (bearing in mind that Graham decided to learn Spanish two days before we left the UK and hasn’t yet got very far) so, in short, his Spanish is abysmal (I’m doing the French bit). I digress again; the interior of the cathedral is very special. The altar is decorated with gold leaf, but on the day of our visit a service was in progress and we were unable to get as close as we would like. A return visit is definitely necessary. Santiago is the end of the pilgrimage route for the many pilgrims congregating in the piazza. Most were carrying the symbol of their journey - a staff (with the 2009 addition of a very heavy back-pack and serious walking boots). I suspect St. James managed very well with sandals. The pilgrim route offers accommodation every 15–20 kilometres and at each holy shrine or stop they receive a stamp in their “Pilgrim Passport” which also entitles them to a “Pilgrim menu del dia”. I suggested to Graham this could be our next holiday – he wasn’t too impressed!

Had a troubled day – Graham amended my blog and added and detracted so we had words (I mean I had words). Another irritation is Graham’s addiction to his nicotine substitute tablets which I find dotted around the place. It’s also very alarming on mountain roads when he is digging into his pocket for one. Also, once he’s awake in the morning, I have to wake up too because he gets bored with no-one to talk to! However, I’m sure I’m incredibly irritating and he does well to put up with me (I am a good cook though – that’ll keep him interested!). Had an early night and slept well without the mad Spanish woman chatting on the phone at 2.00am in the morning. (G - A woman camping in a tent opposite us woke us up the night before by having a loud telephone conversation next to our caravan. I heard Sue getting up and told her to say, Por favor senora – silencio – gracias. It ended up as a bellow of, “Silencio s’il vous plait – merci!” Oh well, it had the desired effect, as the woman mumbled, “Perdon” and scuttled back to her tent. Two mornings later at about 7.30, we were woken up again by her phone playing the Nokia ring tone very loudly. Everyone heard it except her. It rang and rang and by the time it woke her up and she’d answered it the whole campsite was awake. We now call her, “That mad deaf Spanish woman.”)

Graham decided he was bored and wanted to see the sunset at Fisterra. Fisterra is the most westerly point in Europe, with fantastic views over the Atlantic. We left around 8-ish in the evening for a one and a half-hour journey. Spectacular scenery and we left Santiago in brilliant sunshine. As we raced to get to the lighthouse at Fisterra, clouds blackened the sky. Sod’s law! By the time we reached the lighthouse there was the faintest tinge of pink in the clouds. The coast is named Costa del Morte (the name stems from the constant buffeting the shoreline receives from the Atlantic waves) and all the shipwrecks off the coast, the latest being the oil tanker Prestige which broke in half in 2002 causing devastation to the coast and livelihoods of the local fishermen. We resolved to return the following day...

(G - While we were away in Fisterra a lovely Scottish couple, Stewart and Ruth, had arrived and parked their caravan next to our plot. We hit it off straight away and they were a mine of information regarding the whys and wherefores of caravanning, and I picked up a lot of useful tips on towing. I was also most impressed (not to mention a little envious) of their remotely controlled electric caravan wheel movers, which made manoeuvring around the plot easy – not to mention positioning their caravan precisely for hitching and unhitching. A seriously good gadget!)

Next day we left Santiago in heavy cloud but by the time we stopped at our first stunning village, Cee, the sun was out and it was a glorious day. The coastline is incredibly rugged as you would imagine but Cee, at the head of one of the many estuaries along the coast was particularly pretty; then a brief stop at Mallas, a tiny bay, silver sand with a backdrop of pines on the headlands AND EMPTY – it was ours for an hour or so. Unfortunately the sun was pretty strong and I woke the next day looking like a boiled lobster!

We stopped again at Corcubion and the local Tourisimo was helpful, telling us about the sardine festival to be held later on and yes, every bar/restaurant would be serving sardines.

We chose the only restaurant that didn’t have them on the menu!

Fisterra at dusk is spectacular but the views on a bright sunny day were even better. This time though, the headland was busy with Pilgrims and a coach party.

Traditionally this is where Pilgrims would burn their clothes after completing their journey (that would have been interesting). Modern Pilgrims are not quite so bold, leaving a hat or scarf at the foot of a cross.

Cambados, A Toxa Corcubion & Pontevedra – Cambados is exquisite. The main square, Praza de Fefinans is an idyllic little spot, lined on all sides with beautiful buildings, including a seventeenth century church. Here we tasted the famous and excellent Albarino Wines as we ate tapas in the sunshine outside a tiny restaurant/bar just off the main square. The tapas were delicious, although ordering the octopus “pulpo” was a huge mistake – YUK!

On to A Toxa - an upmarket, tiny resort on a pine covered islet and then on to Pontevedra. Why does it always happen to us? We timed our arrival so that we could enjoy what the Rough Guide describes as a “compact, charming, quintessentially old Galego town where the old quarter is always lively”. Well let me just say it was closed when we arrived and as silent as the grave! We decided we’d had enough for the day and made our way back to Santiago.
Last night it was difficult to sleep because of the noise of the rain. It poured and the pounding kept me awake for what felt like hours. Graham slept peacefully! What is it about men that they remain undisturbed by noise? This morning everything was soaked – chairs, ground sheet, BBQ – as soon as there was a break in the cloud we dried off everything, being mindful that tomorrow we will be setting off for our next destination, Nazare in Portugal, around 250 miles south of Santiago (let’s hope it will be warmer and drier!).

(G - I’ve just finished loading the car ready for the off tomorrow. I’m hoping for a less traumatic journey than the trip here. Fifth gear all the way! And NO 1 in 3 hill climbs! Fortunately the car seems none the worse for its clutch-burning experience but once bitten and all that. Hope you’re all enjoying our travels. I’ll be telling you what annoys me about Sue next time. If I’ve got the nerve...)