With the advance of the Seljuk Turks in the latter half of the eleventh century the pilgrimages to Jerusalem, which had been at the heart of Christian medieval piety, were effectively choked off. This would eventually lead to the crusades, but in the meantime an alternative venue was desperately needed. What emerged was Santiago de Compostela in Northwest Spain where the burial place of the Apostle St James the Greater ( Santiago )had been miraculously revealed to some shepherds early in the ninth century when they observed a star which, instead of moving along the sky with the rest of the firmament, remained stationary over a field the whole of the night. (Compostela=star/field). Then, in 844, a mysterious figure on a white horse joined some Christian knights who were fighting a losing rear guard action against the advancing Moors and turned the tide of battle, only to disappear as mysteriously as he had come. It was decided that this had been the avatar of St James, who was on the spot dubbed Matamoros (slayer of Moors), a church was built over his grave, where miracles soon enough occured, and it became a destination of local pilgimages. The Cluniac Order, the great reforming force within the Church in the eleventh century, decided that Santiago would be the perfect successor to Jerusalem, it lay at the end of an arduous journey from the heart of Europe, but not an impossible one, and soon enough pilgrims were making their way to Santiago on foot from France, Italy, even Germany. To this day, driving almost everywhere in northern and central Spain along the Camino de Santiago, the Pilgrim's Way, one can observe them, clad in hiking outfits, laden with rucksacks, carrying the traditional pilgrim's staff and wearing a conch, the symbol of the pilgimage, trudging along, singing the traditional pilgrim songs. Having made one's way to Santiago in motorized comfort one feels at least a small twinge of guilt when one observes the tired to the bone pilgrims arriving at last, often after some weeks on the road, at what is now the cathedral in Santiago, but this is instantly replaced by vicarious pleasure as one observes the real joy with which they perform the traditional gesture of rubbing the foot of the saint's bronze statue in the nave.
As the number of pilgrims to Santiago kept increasing, a whole industry evolved around them, but providing adequate housing for them grew to be a serious problem. To address this, in the last decade of the fifteenth century, the Monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella, the Reis Catolicos who by their marriage had just joined the crowns of Aragon and Castille, caused a huge hostel to be built directly across the main square from the cathedral. This offered free lodging and food to pilgrims for over four centuries. Eventually this became a parador so that that which had offered accomodation at the very lowest end of the scale was transformed into a five star hotel, although, for many years, mindful of its origins, it continued to dispense a free meal to arriving pilgrims in a basement canteen. Today the Reis Catolicos, clad in a Renaissance cum Baroque facade, is the undisputed flagship of the parador chain, a truly grand old lady, the oldest hotel in the world. Everything about it is on a grand scale. To begin with, while the entirety of the old upper town is closed to automobile traffic, if you're booked at the parador you are allowed to drive up to its doors. Then, as if by magic, your bags are taken from your car to reappear later in your room, the car is whisked away to an underground garage, and you're escorted inside. What you eventually see is a profusion of courtyards, an incredible array of public rooms -- one year I counted over twenty --, all splendidly appointed, and an atmosphere that can only be described as luxurious opulence. I realize that to some point this is hyperbole, but on one occasion I said to my Delightful Traveling Companion, "My dear, we're staying in the best hotel in the world". The rooms vary, some are merely of good size, others are immense, all are furnished with genuinely old and good pieces, but have no fear, the bathrooms, as well as the pillows and mattresses are reassuringly up to date. The bar serves the best cocktail hors d'oeuvres in the whole chain, the are actually two restaurants, one specializing in lighter fare, the other featuring a splendid Galician cuisine, and the breakfast buffets are stunningly lavish -- the smoked salmon is real Scottish, there is a truly staggering array of cheeses, and for those who go in for that sort of thing, free wine, both still and Sparkling, is on offer. Finally, certainly this is a personal, even idiossyncratic, touch, but for me there is no better moment than when I step out unto the raised entryway of the parador and survey the vast Plaza de Obradoiro before me, the cathedral across the way, the square thronged with pilgrims, bagpipes playing in the background -- these are not invading Scots, the Galicians too were originally Celts and maintain a tradition of playing Celtic music --, I feel, at least for a moment, that I'm King of the World.
Now obviously, all of this doesn't come cheap. In high season you can expect to pay around two-hundred-and- fifty dollars a night for the room, perhaps two thirds of that in the off season. But a word to the wise. I've just read in the Amigos bulletin that for the coming September and October Amigos are offered two nights for the price of one. That's a value that simply can't be beat. If you possibly can get away then, put on your conches and make your way to Santiago.
As the number of pilgrims to Santiago kept increasing, a whole industry evolved around them, but providing adequate housing for them grew to be a serious problem. To address this, in the last decade of the fifteenth century, the Monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella, the Reis Catolicos who by their marriage had just joined the crowns of Aragon and Castille, caused a huge hostel to be built directly across the main square from the cathedral. This offered free lodging and food to pilgrims for over four centuries. Eventually this became a parador so that that which had offered accomodation at the very lowest end of the scale was transformed into a five star hotel, although, for many years, mindful of its origins, it continued to dispense a free meal to arriving pilgrims in a basement canteen. Today the Reis Catolicos, clad in a Renaissance cum Baroque facade, is the undisputed flagship of the parador chain, a truly grand old lady, the oldest hotel in the world. Everything about it is on a grand scale. To begin with, while the entirety of the old upper town is closed to automobile traffic, if you're booked at the parador you are allowed to drive up to its doors. Then, as if by magic, your bags are taken from your car to reappear later in your room, the car is whisked away to an underground garage, and you're escorted inside. What you eventually see is a profusion of courtyards, an incredible array of public rooms -- one year I counted over twenty --, all splendidly appointed, and an atmosphere that can only be described as luxurious opulence. I realize that to some point this is hyperbole, but on one occasion I said to my Delightful Traveling Companion, "My dear, we're staying in the best hotel in the world". The rooms vary, some are merely of good size, others are immense, all are furnished with genuinely old and good pieces, but have no fear, the bathrooms, as well as the pillows and mattresses are reassuringly up to date. The bar serves the best cocktail hors d'oeuvres in the whole chain, the are actually two restaurants, one specializing in lighter fare, the other featuring a splendid Galician cuisine, and the breakfast buffets are stunningly lavish -- the smoked salmon is real Scottish, there is a truly staggering array of cheeses, and for those who go in for that sort of thing, free wine, both still and Sparkling, is on offer. Finally, certainly this is a personal, even idiossyncratic, touch, but for me there is no better moment than when I step out unto the raised entryway of the parador and survey the vast Plaza de Obradoiro before me, the cathedral across the way, the square thronged with pilgrims, bagpipes playing in the background -- these are not invading Scots, the Galicians too were originally Celts and maintain a tradition of playing Celtic music --, I feel, at least for a moment, that I'm King of the World.
Now obviously, all of this doesn't come cheap. In high season you can expect to pay around two-hundred-and- fifty dollars a night for the room, perhaps two thirds of that in the off season. But a word to the wise. I've just read in the Amigos bulletin that for the coming September and October Amigos are offered two nights for the price of one. That's a value that simply can't be beat. If you possibly can get away then, put on your conches and make your way to Santiago.
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