Tag: Camino de Santiago

Guinness Storehouse

as a fan of craft brews, and living less than 10 miles from one of the most popular microbreweries in the state, I’ve taken a brewery tour or two (or dozen) over the years. from DIY affairs, to ones where the brewmaster takes you back among the tanks to explain the finer scientific points of beer brewing, to very limited, controlled situations where the script never deviates from the one all “tour guides” are compelled to memorize, the experience at the Guinness Storehouse is just that — an Experience.

with annual sales topping more than 1.8 billion U.S. pints, it shouldn’t have surprised me how thoroughly and expertly produced the “tour” at St. James’ might prove. in the dozen years since the Storehouse opened as a self-guided tour and attraction, over four million people have visited. the site, St. James’ Gate, was initially leased to Arthur Guinness in 1759 for the amount of 45 GBP each year for the duration of 9,000-year lease. (the company has since expanded outside its initial footprint and ultimately bought the land outright. a copy of that original lease is displayed under glass in the floor of the atrium.

the building that houses the Storehouse was constructed in 1902 as a fermentation plant for the brewery. it served as this capacity until a new fermentation plant was built along the River Liffey in 1988. the attraction is laid out over seven floors in what was, at the time it was built, the largest steel-framed structure in Ireland. the atrium is rather cornily designed to resemble the shape of a pint glass. the first floor introduces visitors to the four ingredients of beer – water, barley, hops, and yeast — and the general brewing process. after years of intimate and in-depth tours of craft and microbreweries, the polish of production surprised me a bit with projections of boiling tubs of wort and ovens of roasting barley, but seemed expertly and deftly done. you can’t actually see Guinness being brewed anywhere along the tour, but you can see the buildings at which various steps of the process take place! on the whole, the exhibits presenting other information interested us more. we saw examples of their famous marketing campaigns – My goodness! My Guinness! – Guinness advertisements on television throughout the decades (with cheesily appointed rooms identifiable by decade),  the famous harp seen in the logo encased in glass at the top of one escalator.

the most interesting part, by a stretch, however, was the exhibit on the cooperage. at the height of barrel production (for transporting the black stuff) in the 20th century, Guinness employed hundreds of coopers. within a few decades, as aluminum kegs came into use after 1946, the number dropped precipitously — from some 300 in the war years to 70 in 1961. the last wooden cask was filled at St. James’ Gate in 1963. the exhibit featured all the tools of the trade, as well as fascinating footage from the 1930s or so of men at work – clearly decked out in their Sunday best to show off their work to the camera – working through the entire process of making a barrel. after that exhibit it was mostly down to figuring out where we’d like to enjoy our “complimentary” pint of Guinness. (we opted for the Gravity Bar at the top of the “pint glass” with panoramic views of the city.)

I had absolutely no idea of this: according to Wikipedia, St. James’ Gate traditionally served as the starting point for Irish peregrinos heading to Santiago de Compostela. they could get their credencials stamped in the brewery before catching a boat to Spain; the nearby church will still stamp them for you.

a look back, a look forward

on the feast day of Saint James, on a day when the news out of Santiago de Compostela is distressing and devastating, I am looking back at all this past year has brought me. all the ways in which its challenged me and all the ways in which its invigorated me. if you asked me a year ago whether I’d ever consider doing a long-distance hike like the Camino again, I would have scoffed at you or shot you icy little daggers if you proposed spending several hundred more miles trudging along on my feet.

but time is great at softening the sharp edges of discomfort. my ankle can’t really have hurt all that much in the last few days of the hike. the blisters weren’t really that bad. my fatigue every day wasn’t nearly as terrible as I’d imagined. right?

our recent hike on the Dingle peninsula certainly put a few of those softened memories to the test, pushed physical boundaries in new directions and reminded — or at least strongly suggested — that the daily fatigue wasn’t far-fetched; a mid-afternoon nap and early dinner were about the right speed. but in more important, emotional and mental ways the demands of the hike were much easier to contend with this go round. if I did the Camino again now — or ten years from now — there are things I would do differently, but I would do it because there is nothing like walking into the Praza do Obradioro at the end of the road and knowing all that you achieved. I hope all those who lost their lives this week had an opportunity to know that kind of satisfaction, and that those in Santiago this week for the festivities are doing their best to honor the memories of those lost.

back to relying on power generated by others

after traveling for more than a month on your own power, getting anywhere you wanted to get by virtue of your own two, weary, worn-out feet, it is a singular experience to return to the world of motorized transportation. you mean I can get more than 15 miles in one day?! how spectacular!

while in hindsight it might have been easier to fly in and out of Madrid and taken a train to St. Jean-Pied-de-Port and from Santiago de Compostela, it was a treat to take even a short trip by train from Santiago to Vigo (and to visit with Felix & Kate at the beginning of the trip as they kindly transported us to our point of departure). when one lives someplace with limited (to use a staggering understatement) train travel opportunities, the prospect of taking shelling out a few bucks to ride an hour down the tracks is a wondrous prospect. I’ve traveled a fair bit by trains on my travels and I’m still impressed each time I walk into a station as to how seamlessly one can procure a ticket, walk out onto the platform and hop on a train. (of course, there’s a small chance I went about it all wrong in the Czech Republic and just lucked out not getting nabbed by transport police … but I think I did ok.)

our last day in Spain dawned drizzly though not unpleasant. after a slow start and a leisurely exploration of the old town, lunch at a tasty Italian cafe in sight of the cathedral spires, (and an ultimately unsuccessful quest to send some wine home) we grabbed our packs and headed for an earlier-than-planned train to Vigo and its airport. the ride south was uneventful and odd in both its novelty and normality. lots of young people heading from one town to anther for a Saturday, couple of people with suitcases also heading to or from an airport.

rather than figure out a means of getting to the airport by public transportation from the Vigo train station, we opted for the luxury of a taxi, which whipped us up the hill — and into fog bank blanketing the coast — in record time. our flight to Madrid wasn’t scheduled to depart Vigo until after 9:00 p.m., but we took a gamble leaving early in the hopes we’d be able to catch something earlier; we arrived at the airport in just enough time to catch a 5:00ish flight that would get us in about three hours early.

… if the fog hadn’t been bad enough to cancel all flights in and out of Vigo for the duration of the day! they put all of us Madrid-bound passengers on a bus (back) to Santiago and the airport there, which wasn’t completely fogged in. we still ended up in Madrid two hours earlier than scheduled and managed to find some food and experience something of a real night out in a Spanish metropolis on our 34th night in the country.

Cathedral at night

for the first time on the Camino, the night we arrived in Santiago, we got to enjoy the twilight and experience Spain as it ought to be experienced — when everyone else is out and about.

for much of our time in Spain we, along with the other peregrinos, operated on a clock wholly our own — up before sunrise and on the road, lunch between 11 and 1 and dinner between 6 and 8, at the latest. most of the time this proved a non-issue; most of the places we traveled through operated on peregrino time as the main industry of many of the towns was serving peregrinos. in the big cities it wasn’t problematic, but it did mean we missed some of the more exciting things Spain had on offer. staying at an albergue the day after León, we met some Australians who’d gone out with friends while in the city and regaled us with stories of the music and food and nightlife they got to experience while there. we, on the other hand, were back in our hotel, enjoying a bottle of wine on the balcony, watching the Eurovison song contest until the satellite cable went out and we went to bed. before 9:00 p.m. I can’t imagine being out late on any night of the Camino, then getting up to walk the next day in any state of fatigue beyond what we already put up with. in Santiago, we had lunch so “absurdly” early (around 1:30p.m., after the end of the Mass) that the restaurant wasn’t prepared to seat us right away. we had the dining room to ourselves for a short while, but a group of English-speaking tourists in town for shopping filled up a large table after a while.

after our celebratory lunch, we wandered around the Old Town — designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, the fifth of our trip. the town was destroyed in the 10th century and entirely rebuilt in Gothic, Baroque and Romanesque styles; the Cathedral anchors the old town and is one of the oldest sites in the city. that majestic Cathedral helped make Santiago the third most popular medieval pilgrimage site, after Rome and Jerusalem. the streets, not surprisingly, wind erratically and take you unexpected places. if you try and follow the may to get from one point to another, you will likely prove unsuccessful; once we got a sense for landmarks, though, it wasn’t too hard to get where we intended.

we headed back to the hotel after a good wander, nabbing snacks from a corner store just at the edge of Old Town, and spent the remainder of the afternoon and much of the evening relaxing, reading, and watching Euro 2012 matches. when we ventured forth again, twilight was settling, and I wanted to see what the Cathedral looked like in a different light.

under the balcony of the Pazo de Raxoi (Palacio de Rajo, the seat of Galician government) a string quintet (sextet? quartet?) was performing and had drawn a group. not as atmospheric as the gaita gallego as we entered the Praza de Obradoiro the first couple of times, but pleasant all the same. the building was commissioned by the archbishop of Santiago in 1766 as a seminary for confessors. it previously housed a prison and the western wall of the city and ownership of the proposed building was disputed by several parties, all of whom had an interest in the land and its future uses. the facade is graced by a depiction of the Battle of Clavijo, topped by a sculpture of Santiago Matamoros, and plays a pivotal role in the conclusion of  Sharpe’s Rifles.

in the middle of the plaza, serenaded by the strings, stood a group of cyclists having their triumphal photo taken. it’s staggering to think they’d just arrived in the city — it was after 10:00 p.m. — but they had all their gear on and had that elated, just-arrived air. quite a dramatic time to arrive, though on the whole I’m partial to an earlier arrival that allows more time to contemplate what you’ve just achieved and soak in the ambiance.

sleep of the arrived – a night at the Moure Hotel

while I booked many of our lodgings before started the Camino, some nights we just walked up to the first albergue, casa rural, or any-star hotel to find a room. for the most part, that worked fine; we found some interesting places to stay, some better than others. as the trip wore on, however, I found I preferred the security of having a bed secured for the night, particularly as we got into the more heavily-traveled final leg of the Camino beyond Sarria.

I found the Hotel Moure by way of a Rick Steves recommendation for the Hotel Altair; at some point early in the Camino, I emailed the other hotel and, as they were full for the night we desired lodging, recommended a sister establishment just a few doors down the road, the Hotel Moure. as with other reservations I set up via email while in Spain, I communicated via email in my passable-on-a-good-day Spanish. usually everything worked out just fine and we got our room (or at least beds) at a predetermined, no-surprises rate.

on this instance, we did have a bit of a surprise upon being ushered into the crisp, rather mod, room. my email communication included discussion of whether we cared for a “baño externo;” based on communications with other guest houses, this usually meant a shared bathroom, rather than an ensuite. not so, however, at the Hotel Moure — it actually meant that the tub was outside! the incredibly deep tub sat on a narrow balcony that would have overlooked the interior courtyard, had there not been a privacy wall. it took some convincing and steeling of one’s dignity before we stepped out under the patchy blue sky, and climbed into the fantastically warm water filling the tub. (it wasn’t entirely clear whether any of the rooms above us would be able to see down into the tub; all the windows opened inward, so no one could lean out.) it was a truly singular experience; I might opt for a room higher up in the building with a more scenic view next time, but it was certainly worth it the once.

apart from the outside tub, the rest of the lodging experience was wonderful. they had, by far, my favorite-smelling toiletries (I brought the extras home with us).

tomb of Santiago

an angel and Santiago with shields depicting his symbols

another important part of completing the Camino and visiting the Cathedral is ascending the steps behind the altar to embrace a statue of Santiago and then descend into the crypt to see relics of the Saint and two of his (also saintly) followers, Teodoro and Atanasio.

even though much of the crowd attending the noon mass cleared out rapidly once the botafumeiro stopped swinging, our burgeoning hunger diverted us from visiting the tomb the day we arrived in Santiago de Compostela. (after all, we’d been up since 5:00 a.m. and walking for nearly all of it.) I felt particularly desirous of some kind of huge (vegetarian-friendly) victory luncheon, as standing during the mass had left me somewhat flushed and rather watery in the leg department.

Santiago Peregrino in glass

it was drizzly when we returned to the Cathedral the following day. whereas numerous people milled about on the morning when we arrived — tourists snapping pictures of the Cathedral, peregrinos grinning madly as someone took a picture of them in their Camino gear, a school group visiting the government building on the opposite side of the plaza — weather dissuaded people from lingering and the hour (about 10:00) meant that most peregrinos arriving to Santiago that day hadn’t made it to the Praza do Orbadoiro yet.

this meant, fortunately, that there wasn’t much of a line to visit the altar and crypt. we briefly explored the areas of the Cathedral we hadn’t seen the previous day, headed for the roped off queue that wrapped around behind the altar. while shuffling forward, we saw one of the few stained glass windows in the Cathedral, depicting Santiago holding his scallop-topped staff and distinct cross emblazoned on his chest.

the Altar Mayor is an explosion of Baroque-era decoration, with numerous pieces venerating Santiago, both the warrior and peregrino, and depicting all manner of heavenly creatures and other Biblical themes. there’s an 18th-century baldachin depicting the cardinal virtues, with Santiago Peregrino standing beneath; there’s a statue of Santiago Matamoros from 1677. and up the narrow stairs in a camarín (a tiny chamber still visible from the altar), there’s a painted stone sculpture of Santiago, seated on a silver throne.

unlike many other religious shrines, peregrinos (or any visitors) are welcome to embrace this depiction of Santiago and pilgrims to Compostela have always been allowed to touch or embrace the statue. one account from the late 15th century describes how peregrinos would climb the stairs of the then-wooden shrine and place the silver crown gracing Santiago’s head on their own, to facilitate the reception of religious goodwill. the crown was later reported as gold but at some point disappeared and peregrinos took to embracing the statue instead. I didn’t feel moved to embrace the statue as I passed through the camarín but could readily understand why some people might be moved to do so.

from the tiny upstairs chamber we descended to a tiny underground chamber — the crypt containing the relics of Santiago and his followers. the crypt mimics the Roman mausoleum in which Santiago’s bones originally resided, and illuminates the substructure of a 9th century church that stood on the site prior to construction of the existing Cathedral.

as previously discussed, over the course of centuries the location of Santiago’s bones has gone in and out of focus; once they were rediscovered, political and religious turmoil frequently threatened their safety. in an effort to protect them from Dutch and English incursions, the relics were “relocated” from their place on the altar to a “safe location” in 1589. sometime thereafter their location got even “safer” as they went undiscovered until 1879. following this rediscovery and authentication of the relics by Pope Leo XIII in 1884, the silver reliquary which now houses them was crafted in 1886 by Jose Losada, who had designed the botafumeiro three decades earlier.

while most people simply walked through, pausing briefly to look at the reliquary, there was one man taking his time before the relics, kneeling on a prayer bench. there was a small box for offerings, though no items left behind by peregrinos, such as their scallop shells or walking sticks; I don’t know if the Cathedral has cracked down on the practice of bringing and leaving items from your Camino in the crypt, but at one time enough got left behind that they had to haul everything out at night and develop a plan for dispensing items to appropriate  parties. frankly, I couldn’t shake a feeling of slight claustrophobia — the means of entrance and egress from the crypt were narrow and steep. moreover, despite the fact that the Cathedral has stood on its current foundation for nearly a millennium, I couldn’t shake the feeling that all those tons of marble pressing down from above, onto this low ceiling, could collapse and pulverize anyone or anything in that tiny space. as fascinating as it was to see and be in that space, I was hugely thankful to get out, and back into the open air plaza in short order.

Maestro Mateo

as I mentioned in the previous post, the architect of the Pórtico da Gloria got permission to carve his likeness into one of the pillars. here he kneels, on the other side of the pillar on which he carved the Tree of Jesse and which millions of peregrinos have placed their hands, facing the altar. as you can see, he’s also cordoned off now, to prevent anxious students (or anyone) from knocking their head to his in exchange for some luck on exams (or anything).

tree of Jesse & the Pórtico da Gloria

one of the more striking scenes in “The Way” is when the motley group of peregrinos arrive at the Catedral de Santiago. in turn, each of the peregrinos enters the Cathedral by way of the middle doors in the Pórtico da Gloria, past the Tree of Jesse, which is grooved from hundreds of years and hundreds of thousands of peregrinos placing their hand on the carving to acknowledge and express their devotion.

the Pórtico da Gloria was erected between 1168 and 1188 under the direction of Maestro Mateo in a Romanesque style. in order to construct it, he had to build up from the basement to create an adequate “porch” for a narthex. Ferdinand II of León provided the funds for the project, a sum of money every year for twenty years. in addition to the intricate stonework, at some point during the 12th century the work was polychromed and then repainted during the 17th century; traces of color remain today.

the entire Pórtico depicts the Last Judgement, though each architectural element has its own theme. the left door illustrates themes from the Old Testament and Judaism, as precursors to Christianity; the central door focuses on the resurrection of Jesus and features an array of musical instruments and musicians; stonework on the right door proclaims the “promise of the future;” depictions on the door jams of the central door represent a holy kingdom on earth.

at the top of the middle pillar is Santiago, holding a scroll proclaiming “Misit me Dominus” (the Lord sent me) — acknowledgement that Santiago de Compostela is watched over by a higher, divine power. (for more on that, may I recommend Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe’s Rifles, which not only depicts the terrain we covered but also discusses a siege and liberation of Santiago during the Napoleonic wars.) beneath Santiago is the Tree of Jesse, outlining the family heritage of Jesus. Maestro Mateo’s work greeted weary peregrinos to the Catedral for nearly six centuries before the now resplendent facade facing the Praza do Obradoiro was completed in 1750 and enclosed the porch

in “The Way,” the more religious of Sheen’s companions, the Dutchman Joost, approaches the central pillar on his knees, penitently, before placing his hand where so many faithful had done before. there are finger holes worn into the carving where the fingers of hundreds of thousands of peregrinos have placed their hands. it’s not unlike the stairs in Old Main at Knox though, I must confess, more awe-inducing. we couldn’t follow that example — the pillar is now guarded by metal fences that keep you well back from the Tree of Jesse, as well as away from the self-portrait Maestro Mateo carved of himself on the other side of the pillar, kneeling in prayer looking up towards the altar. tradition held that those who knocked heads with the Maestro’s statue would benefit from his genius; students would often visit the Catedral in advance of exams for a different kind of preparation.

ritual and the botafumeiro

Compostelas in hand, we dropped our packs at our hotel, a neat, modern place just beyond the limits of the old city walls, then headed back to the cathedral for the noon peregrino mass — featuring the botafumeiro! 

while the exterior facade of the Cathedral (added in the 1750s) is quite stunning, the inside is pretty plain, particularly in comparison to some of Europe’s other grand cathedrals, though well kept and clean. I suppose, when one stops to think about it, it isn’t the fanciest cathedral in Spain by a long way, and perhaps not even the snazziest cathedral on the Camino; simply the most enthusiastically anticipated. I suppose the organ pipes jutting out over the heads of peregrinos in the middle aisle is rather striking…

we arrived “late” to the peregrino mass, a mere fifteen minutes before the hour, and all the seats, as well as the best of the standing room, were taken up by others eager to hear the Mass or see the botafumeiro in action, depending on religious persuasion. we still managed a decent spot standing near the intersection of the nave and transept which afforded us with a closer view of the action. they delivered a pretty standard and benign (at least to my non-Catholic ears) homily. it got somewhat heavy-handed and blunt at times about the importance of having the Church and Jesus in one’s life, which Andy was luckily immune to by virtue of not understanding Spanish. they began the service, however, by listing all the home countries (or cities, if they were from Spain) of the peregrinos who’d arrived in Santiago de Compostela in the previous 24 hours. (as I write this in January, 5 peregrinos arrived in Santiago today.)

as a non-religious person who could count on one hand the number of times attending a Catholic Mass of any variety, it was interesting to attend a Catholic Mass in a Catholic country with a group of people that includes those who walked at least 100 kilometers to reach Santiago. there was a young-ish woman standing immediately to my left who knew all the words and all the ritual of the Mass by heart; it was somewhat arresting to observer her and so many others go through the routine of their devotion. the last time I remember memorizing something to repeat it back on command was in my 10th grade French class — La Cigale et La Fourmi par Jean de la Fontaine — and I haven’t had reason to recite it in more than a decade and probably couldn’t muddle my way through it now.

homily concluded, they prepared for the event many people came to see — getting the censer to swing from the roof on onside of the nave to the roof on the other side of the nave. there are several vessels they use for this demonstration; we probably saw La Alcachofa (literally: the artichocke) in action that Friday in June. the Botafumeiro is an alloy of bronze and brass, plated with silver, was crafted in 1851 by a silver and goldsmith named Losada. it’s normally on display in the cathedral library. it’s one of the largest censers in the world and stands at 1.6 meters tall. La Alcachofa was crafted in 1971 and can be filled with about 40 kilograms of incense, which wafts over the heads of peregrinos in the transept as it swings from side to side at speeds of up to 68 kph. the top of the swing is about 21 meters up and takes about 17 swings by eight red-robed tiraboleiros to reach that speed, after about 80 seconds of pulling.

some hold that the use of the botafumeiro dates back to the 11th century; there was need to deaden the smell of the arriving peregrinos, weary, sweaty, unwashed and it was believed that the incense smoke also served the purpose of deadening “plagues” or epidemics carried in by peregrinos. in the 15th century Louis XI donated money to replace the silver medieval thurible; Napoleon’s troops stole it in 1809.

while it’s well secured by the ropes that the tiraboleiros pull on, there have been several instances of malfunction ranging from the botafumeiro flying out a window to simply tipping coals onto the ground. the most dramatic incident came when Catherine of Aragon stopped in Santiago while on her way to marry Arthur in England — during the swing, the botafumeiro flew out the Platerias window (over the south entrance to the Catedral), but somehow managed to not injure anyone. the last incident occurred in 1937. it was smooth sailing for La Alcachofa for our visit.

victory!

it’s really too bad that the video we tried to take as we walked into the Praza do Obradoiro didn’t record properly. it’s one of those sounds that I’ll remember to my last days, though really by the time we arrived in Santiago I was more tired than any other particular emotion. it was the sound of the gaita that brought the reality of the final moments into focus. I’m sure that’s why buskers take turns performing there, letting the sighing sound of the gaita carry you over the threshold to the end of the five hundred mile challenge you set for yourself — and just achieved!

at least another visitor was nice enough to take over the camera and capture this moment for us.

Victory!!