Reaching Santiago

19 April 2011. I finally arrived at Santiago de Compostela with a heavy sigh of relief. God knows how many times I asked people on the way, '¿Cuantos kilometros más para Santiago?' Now, I have arrived. Ya llegué. I didn't really know what to expect. I only knew that there was the cathedral and that the remains of St James lay there, has been for a long time. I sniffed the air of Santiago; perhaps there was something different about the air. What I was seeing on the road seemed to be transitory, fleeting, like this was not quite my destination but I was almost there. Yes, I was in the city, I just needed to get close to the cathedral. I was dead tired and could barely move and couldn't even huff any longer to catch more precious oxygen into my lungs. I had the backpack hanging on my shoulders, my wooden staff on my hand. I had picked it up from the bush and had shaped it somewhat. It was a fallen branch, covered in mud and moss and probably some tiny bugs. I scraped the bark off it, broke the narrower part of it, and later on I shaved off some more of the surface with a sharp piece of stone. I looked at the humble staff, which had helped me find my balance in the bush. I didn't think before that it would help me walk the Camino de Santiago but it did immensely and to great effect. I found the coquettish sidewalk inviting me to sit down and rest and I could only gladly agree with the least resistance. Even my tired aching feet and screaming legs agreed. So I plonked myself down on the sidewalk mildly oblivious to the passing traffic but still conscious of my safety from the passing cars and pedestrians. I sat on that corner, gazing at the gray sky, threatening to rain sometime soon. I had five days of clear sunny weather, starting my walk from Tui near the Portuguese border. You could see Valença from the other side of the river. Five days of clear sunny weather. My lips even got burnt black by the harsh sun. I had a poncho raincoat in my backpack, together with my sunscreen, a toothbrush, a toothpaste, soap, needle and thread, vaseline, rubber thongs, safety pins, two changes of shirt, briefs, shorts, a pair of pants and a long-sleeved black shirt reserved for my visit to the cathedral. I only had just a little plastic bottle of water left. It didn't much matter anymore. I sat down and pondered, my brows forming a painful knot. A few more steps perhaps. I asked a passerby, '¿Me dice para donde está la catedral?' The answer came back, '¡Por ahí!' I continued my walk for another half an hour through the town centre. I stopped for a cup of chocolate - un colacao con leche - at a bar-restaurant, also to use their amenities. I asked for directions for the albergue but it seemed that it was another 2 kilometres away. I spotted a hotel close by, with the cathedral not being far. I checked in, and I was shown my room. Five minutes after checking in, the rain decided to fall. It couldn't hold any longer, and there was no reason to, for my adventurous trek has finished. The next morning it was still raining, softly but it gave the impression that it would be raining for a few days. I bought an umbrella, black and heavy and sturdy for a very cheap price of 6 euros. I made my way to the cathedral, rested, relieved, relaxed, passing through restaurants and souvenir shops with the proper staffs and conch shells with the red cross painted on it. I have truly reached my destination. A woman was kneeling on the side of the walkway. She had a note before her saying she needed help for her kids. She was just there quiet, ignoring the rain, waiting for some generous hand to drop a coin. I fished out 2 euros from my pocket. I asked, '¿Señora, cómo lo puede hacer en la lluvia?'. She only answered with a meek 'Gracias'.