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It
is an ancient dream, the dream to follow the Sun farther and farther
west, to see it touch down in the sea. Galicia is the extreme western
point of Europe and for thousands of years it has been the destination
of pilgrims from all over the world.
Here is Pamplona, the ancient capital of the Navarra kingdom, famous
for its Gothic cathedral and for the courage of its inhabitants, who
every year on 2 July, the feast day of Saint Fermin, run along the narrow
city streets, followed by hordes of ferocious bulls.
From
Pamplona, I proceed towards the sea. Along the road that leads from
San Sebastian - the seaside resort town on the Atlantic - to Bilbao,
it is raining buckets: the familiar cement-coloured sky reminds me of
Belfast.
The
Cantabria region is the cradle of civilisation of the Ice Age. Its caves
are renowned, especially the Altamira, the most beautiful one, located
in Santillana del Mar. Here, at a depth of 270 meters, the artists of
the Stone Age painted their hunting scenes that date back to the period
between 13 and 25 thousand years before Christ.
Other
caves can be found in Puente Viesgo, Ramale, Puentenansa, and Villaescusa.
Almost one third of the province is covered by a national park, like
the region of the Picos d’Europa, rocky mountains that reach heights
of 3000 meters.
After
Gijon, the most beautiful stretch of the journey begins. The road unwinds
along the jagged coastline of Costa Verde of Austuria, whose oceanic
climate has given it luxurious green foliage. Going by way of Luanco,
we pass through one picturesque fishing village after another, like
Cudillero, Canero and Luarca, each one of which boasts a tiny treasure,
be this a majestic ecclesiastical university or a castle that recounts
the past glory of this ancient principality.
Along
the journey, I notice some unusual street signs: they indicate that
here begins the route of the pilgrims towards Santiago de Compostela.
In Spain, all roads lead to Santiago de Compostela. The pilgrims come
here on the days established by the Catholic calendar.
You
can see them along the road with the signs of their penitence - a staff,
the shell of Saint James, and the gourd carrying water around their
necks. Some are walking, others are riding more comfortably on horseback,
on bicycles, in cars, campers and buses. For those who are in good physical
condition, the pilgrimage can take one month.
Each
year, hordes of faithful face the eight hundred kilometres of road,
crossing Spain on thousands of paths...with enthusiasm in their hearts
and blisters on their feet. Santiago is crowded with people.
Hordes
of pilgrims wander around the city’s medieval streets even at night,
by candlelight, discovering the extraordinary cathedral, built layer
by layer over the centuries. Inside the cathedral, the pilgrims pray
to St. James, and the faithful believe that his body was brought here
from Palestine by legions of angels.
The
Galician countryside is a work of art, as is its native cuisine, rich
in flavourful lobster from the cold sea floor of the Atlantic, the tender
cuts of local lamb that feed on the salty grass of the prairies. In
a desire to mix the sacred and the profane, now that the long awaited
indulgence has been obtained, the pilgrims fill up the many local restaurants
in order to satisfy the needs of earthly life.
La
Coruna is a splendid city. Its houses are painted in light colours,
with white window arcades called miradores, and its cool climate and
its antique monuments invite the traveller to take a pause in his journey.
The centre of the city is situated around an enormous square, Plaza
de Maria Pita. More towards the east, atop a hill, there is the old
city, with churches from the twelfth century and a splendid view of
the port. Behind the hill, the elegant Riazor beach begins.
From
La Coruna, I proceed towards the most western point in Spain, a little
village known as Finisterra (the end of the world), with paradisaical
beauty. It consists in a port mooring floating multicoloured boats,
some restaurants, two inexpensive hotels and a pair of sandy bays where
the visitor c an dream, think or read the books we never seem to find
the time for during the year.
The
road towards Portugal passes through hills of eucalyptus, pinasters,
maritime pines, and cork oak trees. It cuts through towns like Carnota,
with its four hundred inhabitants and eight kilometres of beachfront.
Noia, with its church full of ancient sarcophagi, then Sanxenxo, Marin
and Moena.
Just
a few kilometres from the Portuguese border, there is a place called
Bayona. Legend has it that the idea to search for a new route to India
came to Christopher Columbus here. In truth, he wanted to follow the
sun - which in these parts sets with overwhelming splendour -, discover,
and touch the horizon.
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