I raised both my feet above the bed’s headboard to rest the feet without the ice when there was a knock on the door. Our luggage arrived. Now we can get into dry clothes, not the damp ones that dried out while walking about the plaza looking for our hotel. Our aim for the next couple of hours is to gain our certificates and have lunch somewhere nearby.
We found the Acogida de Peregrinos (Pilgrims Office) at the corner of the Plaza Obradoiro. A line had formed. That was a surprise. I thought we could be just a shoo-in. I recalled reading that some 1000 people a day arrive at Compostela. Assuming they were all pilgrims, that would explain the line. An office staffer went around handing forms to complete. The key question was: “What purpose did you have for the Camino?” The form listed: Religious – Spiritual- Tour -Sport- Cycling. I checked Spiritual, as did Patricia. It was the closest reason. We weren’t intending to be tourists, avid hikers, or even dare to bike. There was a religious tone to our intention, our being Catholics, but we didn’t do the prescribed rituals, but we prayed and lit candles where possible. Spiritual, indeed. In spirit, we became part of a historical tradition that began a thousand years ago. Since the 10th century, millions of pilgrims have trekked to Santiago de Compostela. They came for various reasons — to gain plenary indulgences, to be healed, or to make life promises at St. James’ relics in the Cathedral. In more recent years, though, the Camino has become more secular and touristy, no doubt romanticized by films like Martin Sheen’s The Way and Tres Caminos (although we met some groups praying the Rosary on the trail). In our minds, it was spiritual to follow in the footsteps of those countless pilgrims who came before.
Our line led us to a person behind a counter. (All the while, the entire experience reminded me of a DMV appointment.). To receive this official certificate, the person behind the counter will do a quick interview about your Camino experience. Our passports would be evidence of our pilgrimage. The added stops should show more than 100 km.
He then looked at our passport, our compostelas. The booklet of stamps we collected at each stage of our journey should show two stamps each day from churches or establishments to prove our presence. Our stamped passport added up to 260 km (we didn’t get a stamp from our hotel on arrival at Porto worth 10 km). Satisfied, the interviewer stamped the last sello and inscribed our names in Latin on a vellum certificate. Michael became Michaeleum, and Patricia became Patriceum. We were now pledged pilgrims with Latin names.
Elation mixed with relief. It was still hard to comprehend our 21 days on the trail, much of it was a blur. The rain-drenched discomfort with the last few miles lingered. At the Pilgrims office lobby, we caught up with the Australian couple from Teo. It thrilled them to have made it (this time, officially), and with a certificate at that. He exclaimed with excitement that he had to go back to the office to get a 2 euro certificate cardboard tube holder. Didn’t know that. We followed him and got our cardboard tubes as well.
We missed the Pilgrims’ noon mass, but we can attend the evening mass instead. Right now, we need some lunch, maybe stroll a bit, then get a good rest. Both of us were not feeling well. I was feverish. But our excitement kept us going. We have an extra day here. Some good rest was a possibility.
Past the century-old medical university, we sat at a nearby cafe and got a table with a patio umbrella. We were famished, but it was past 2:00 pm. A true lunch was impossible. The small plates menu tempted us back into being a tourist—duck prosciutto salad, endives wrapped in prosciutto, and a grilled mackerel.
Embarrassing for so-called pilgrims! Just as we started dessert, drops of rain fell and quickly turned into a torrent that even the wide umbrella could not shield us from. The street emptied, and we sought refuge inside the bar to finish our lunch.
As we took our last sip of coffee and tea, the rain stopped and turned into a light drizzle. We went around the souvenir stalls to look for a cheap umbrella but were priced out. Sellers know when to gouge the tourists, for sure. I settled for a clear, flimsy 3 Euro poncho. Pat was fine with her rain jacket. The rain clouds continued to threaten. We dried out for the rest of the afternoon at the hotel until evening Mass.
Mass started at 6:00 pm. All pews were taken. Pat and I found a pillar base to sit on. A young lady came up and offered us her seat. Pat and I squeezed into the space. I was still feverish and felt uneasy. The mass was con-celebrated by four priests, each of whom spoke a separate language aside from Spanish — German, Italian, and English. In English, the priest greeted the pilgrims and gave them special blessings.
The mass was beautiful and stirring, made meaningful by the place, and one can feel the earnestness of the church-goers. I felt too sick to take communion, but Pat did. The Mass ended and we exit out into a drizzle. Our Camino has ended 21 days on the trail; tired; exhausted, but in a good way. We set our minds on the journey home.
BON CAMINO!