Pilgrim's Road

come upon purely by accident, because being only one of such numerous wonders, few guide books bother to point it out. But although I saw only a fraction it did not worry me as it usually would, because somehow one doesn’t seem to worry in Santiago. The week I spent there was notable mostly for a feeling of happy contentment. Only one incident struck a very different note, though in the end this was probably the most important thing that happened to me in Santiago. It was the occasion of the free pilgrim meal.
    A privilege to which my Compostela entitled me was dining at the imposing Reyes Católicos Hospital, now a superluxury hotel in the Parador chain. In theory I could have up to three meals a day there for three days, entirely gratis. The reason for this generosity is lodged in history and tradition of course, like all things to do with the St James pilgrimage. In 1501 King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella commissioned a pilgrim hospital to be worthy of so holy a place. No expense was spared in the building of it and the result is one of Santiago’s most celebrated and beautiful buildings. The Reyes Católicos flanks the south side of the Plaza del Obradoiro and is built around four lovely courtyards each named for one of the four apostles and each one a little different from the others. The long low plain façade which faces onto the Obradoiro is relieved by the most restrained and delicate plateresque decoration and makes a perfect foil for the exuberant west front of the cathedral.
    The Reyes Católicos immediately acquired a reputation for excellent hospitality. Pilgrims were limited to a three-day stay, unless they were sick, in which case the best of medical care was lavished upon them. Declining pilgrim numbers led to the hospice being converted to use as a hospital for sick local people — a role quite in keeping with the founders’ charitable intentions. Subsequently, however, following the Spanish vogue for turning historic buildings into luxury hotels, the Reyes Católicos has become a hotel for extremely well-heeled visitors, which seems a rather less justifiable function for a place built to meet the needs of pilgrims. The free meals which the Reyes Católicos offers to ten pilgrims a day is its last link with tradition and, I would have thought, not only fair, but worth every penny of its paltry cost as a useful tourist attraction.
    For Harrie was quite right about pilgrims being a great attraction for tourists, I discovered, now that I was on foot. I had not thought I looked anything like a pilgrim; I had no staff, rucksack, or wide-brimmed hat. The only clue was the scallop shell on my barbag which I now carried as a shoulder bag. But as the priest who had made out my Compostela had said, ‘You can always tell who are pilgrims, there is a look about them.’ Weather-beaten I certainly was, but it seems there was more to the ‘look’ than that because several people stopped me to ask if I was a pilgrim, and two English women, rather older than me, told me that they knew I was a pilgrim by my smile, apparently it shone! An American who asked me the same question was actually staying at the Reyes Católicos and when, during the conversation that followed, I told him about the free meals for pilgrims at his hotel, his immediate reaction was ‘Wow! Can I get to see that?’ He was clearly thinking along the same lines as I was — something like a special table, maybe a glass-enclosed arbour in one of the courtyards, where waiters would carefully serve the ten privileged pilgrims, while hotel guests would look on in respectful silence. We could not have been further from the reality of the thing.
    When I arrived at the Reyes Católicos for the first of my meals, and the white-gloved doormen realised I was not a potential paying guest, I was casually directed to make my way to the back of the huge and magnificent building. After lengthy and frustrating perambulations through a garage and up and down unmarked service stairs and tiled passages, I eventually found my way to the kitchens. The food for the guests was being prepared in one part, and laid out on a counter for the waiters to take, and very fine it all looked. The chamber maids with whom I was directed to queue, received their food from an adjacent counter. Onto my divided tray went a dollop of glutinous bean stew and one of chicken and potatoes swimming horribly in a thin yellow grease. A bread roll, apple and a glass of wine filled the