We were meant to be leaving Portosin by bus early on Saturday to visit Santiago De Compostela, but at 0400 a small gale passed through necessitating Jeremy adjusting the fenders and removing the Hydrovane wind thingy. At 0645 when Kathy was supposed to be getting up, it was still lashing down and blowing a hoolie. We slept on.

By ten ish we had found a bus stop “Donda est l’autoboos a Compostela, por favor?” The bus came. We arrived at Noya and immediately caught the bus to Compostela. At this point we discovered the map was …. On the boat. The nearest Tourist Info office was the other side of the fairly large and decidedly hilly city. Fortunately a bus information office had a map and we set off on our Pilgrim’s Route to the Catedral of Saint Iago (St James). It was raining and the streets were narrow and dark. Eventually the sun came out, we crossed a busy road and entered a different, almost medieval, centre. Every building felt ancient and the streets were paved in flag stones. There was a maze of illogical streets which led into small “squares” often with seven or so exits. All very confusing. And then in front of us was the University of Compostela and opposite the Catedral.

After a little snack, we joined a short queue to enter the shrine. The queue grew longer. (actually the Lambton worm would have had difficulty in keeping pace – North East reference). The doors were flung open and in we all went. It was very crowded – rather noisy and “Catholic-ly” impressive. {This may be edited by the PC policia} There were many corners of interest and it was lovely to see a baby about to be christened in one of the side chapels.

Outside again, Jeremy was approached by a young woman and a clip board. He dutifully filled in his name and address and came to the last column – “donacion”. A Frenchman came to his rescue and told the woman she was a “thief” and he would get the “policia”. Jeremy crossed his name off and the woman gave the Frenchman some choice advice, which one did not have to be Spanish to understand, but she did disappear sharpish. On reflection, Jeremy decided filling in one’s name and address, whilst on holiday, could lead to a criminal organisation to burgle one’s home wherever it was in the world. Is this a good business idea? More sleepless nights.

We did a turn round the Catedral taking in the sights. The fabulous Horse Fountain; the myriad buskers; the impoverished begging woman sitting dejectedly outside the Catedral entrance; the winos; the throng of international tourists; as well as the truly inspiring architecture.

After a coffee we caught the bus back to Portosin and at last managed to connect to the internet. Hasta luego.