Pilgrimage in the West has spun, like education, away from the church. It seems to me no longer a Christian but a now secular notion. The by now clichéd gap year can be seen as pilgrimage. The journey is a rite of passage in a world of fast disappearing ritual and tradition. As I wandered past these artefacts of pilgrims past I expected Lonely Planet guides, backpacks and a Eurail pass to appear, amongst the artefacts of pilgrims present.
Fiesta Galicia
It was just before midnight and darkness masked the contours of the city. Street lights were sparsely spread and provided no more than a dim glow. I approached a taxi driver outside Pontevedra’s station exit, asking how much he’d charge to the Hotel Peregrino. He looked at me, disbelieving, and pointed diagonally away from the station. “Es alli”, he said, his voice hesitant, perhaps regretting his honesty. I thanked him, and we walked the two minutes down the road to what was our third ‘station hotel’, complete with locals drinking outside the bar, plastic chairs, and the familiar contrast of grot and appeal.
A bearded man of around fifty spotted us, glanced at our backpacks, and enquired as to whether we had a reservation. His English was nonexistent, but after a week in Spain I relished the satisfaction of basic communication, and hotel dialogues were my most practised exercise in Spanish. Continue reading Fiesta Galicia>>
