People Watching

Perhaps the world can be divided into those who like to watch people and people who like to be watched. I fall well and truly into the former camp.

From a table in a cafe on the other side of the world, I can sit peacefully and watch people go about their afternoon.

The locals walk their dogs. Lovers young and old hold hands and sneak the occasional public kiss. Joggers jog by, intent on their footfall. Pilgrims pass, some with crutches, many with a limp from sore feet, blisters and tired muscles.

What a joy it is to just sit and enjoy all that humanity has to offer.

And that’s where I find myself this evening, sitting in the Alameda Park enjoying a cool drink, relaxing and watching people.

I’m tempted to walk up the narrow and very busy laneways to the Plaza del Obradoiro to gaze upon the cathedral once more. But it’s busy and I didn’t walk into Santiago today, so feel that experience is best left for those who have.

People watching in the Plaza is a wonder. Pilgrims enter the square and cry, sing, hug each other, jump or just drop to the ground, not to move again for some time. It is a very emotional space to sit in. One can’t help being caught up in the joy, the pain and the sheer volume of love that this special place holds each day.

No, today I rose late, rising to wander down to the Main Street of Muxia where I enjoyed a strong coffee. Afterwards I obtained my certificate for completing the Santiago to Muxia leg of the Camino.

Then I packed, enjoyed another coffee and then boarded the bus to Santiago with a group of pilgrims. What had taken three long days of walking passed in a little more then an hour. All that effort, sweat and pain disappearing in the rear view mirror.

At the train station I said my farewells to Katja who begins her journey back to Porto then home to Frankfurt.

I had shared a brief few days with Daniel and Katja and two finer people you could not find, both true of heart, strong and full of life though they had travelled different paths to be on the Camino and no doubt would take different things from the experience.

I wish both of them a Buen Camino! May their lives be full of love, laughs and more walking.

As I sit at the cafe in the park, I can hear many different languages and accents. Is that mother encouraging or scolding her child? Are those two sharing a bottle of vino blanco on their first date? Is that voice behind me southern or northern England? I think southern.

Walking back up the hill from the station into Santiago feels like walking into my town, I now know these streets so well. There’s the Galician Parliament on the right, a little further the cafe where Hamez and I said farewell to Leo and James. Then the store where Leo got his guitar. Then a small park on the left, then into the labyrinth like laneways that lead to the Plaza del Obradoiro.

Today the laneways are a river of humanity. Tourists, locals and pilgrims wade along looking for a place to eat or something to buy. There are lively restaurants and pinchos, sorry, tapas bars here, but they are all overflowing with people.

I decide to see if the little Italian restaurant where Hamez, Mikal, Mads, Leo, James and I ate last year was open. It is, but there will be a wait for a table. I like the food and the people here, so I wait. The ten or so minutes pass quickly as I try to arrange a bus ticket from Bilbao to San Sebastián for tomorrow.

Claire decided not to stay in Paris because of the rioting and ended up in Bilbao then San Sebastián. I’ve rearranged my Friday flight to Paris to a Thursday flight to Bilbao. Thanks heavens for smart phones and Rome2Rio.

Back at the park a small boy proudly rides past on a toy motorcycle, his parents gently encouraging him to keep moving. The rotunda is adorned with pride colours – Compostela Diversa. I watch as a group of teenagers break dance. I love the energy.

Two men walk by holding hands. Yes, Santiago de Compostela welcomes diversity. In the end, there is only love.

After a late lunch, I checked into the Nest Hotel. The reception area creates an aura of modern styling, the rooms feel like something from the 1970’s. But, it’s comfortable and close to the centre of the city. They are also very helpful when I mention that I’ve had to reschedule flights and need to cancel my room for tomorrow night. The policy is no refund, though the lovely chap on reception shows me how I can get around this. I make the request on my phone, he receives it immediately and accepts it. Have I said thank heavens for smart phones?

Walking around the Alameda Park, a breeze in the air, soft warm light from the setting sun, I stumble across some enormous Tasmanian Blue Gums.

Almost the whole of Camino in Galicia is through Eucalyptus forest. Interestingly, many pilgrims believe them to be native. Doing some research I find out that seeds were brought from Australia by a Galician monk in the 19th century. The trees thrive here, much like Australian pilgrims.

It does make me wonder what the landscape would have been like before the Eucalypts were here. The small remnant patches of oak forest are so much darker as the trees have a lower and fuller canopy. It would have been frightening passing through such a dark forest as a pilgrim several hundred years ago. Robbers, wolves and bears on the prowl.

The cafe where I sit includes a small modern building that has been built around existing oak trees.

As the sun slowly sets, it’s time for this tired old peregrino to head to bed. Young people dressed and preened are just heading out for a night on the town. Sunburnt pilgrims in new t-shirts move in packs from bar to bar, celebrating their arrival. Locals sit casually watching a scene that plays out for many months of the year.

In my room it is quiet. I could be anywhere. But I’m glad to be here. Glad to have spent a little more time back in Santiago.