10.3km

I have diarrhoea in the morning, and I feel weak. I had remarked before this that we will probably be entering Santiago de Compostela relatively strong compared to pilgrims of the past who had to go through more hardship. Little did I know that I would be feeling this way, on the day I’m reaching Santiago. It is humbling.

I swallow some Loperamide to curb any potential bodily problems. Ingrid and I go downstairs and are pleasantly surprised that free breakfast comes with the room. I have some tea and a croissant.

We leave at 8.30am to bracing cold. It’s -1°C. We walk along a quiet asphalt path next to frosty grass. This morning, I woke to news on my phone of a mosque blast in Pakistan, a country close to my heart, having done a project there. The peace I feel now is such a contrast to the violence. And it makes me wonder how things can be better.

We pass animal farms, small industries, and a couple of TV stations.

I need a toilet, and at Monte do Gozo, we check for one at the Xunta albergue, which is a sort of campus. It’s not open in the morning, so the toilets are not accessible. I hold it in.

Four kilometres to Santiago, I start to feel a sense of anticipation. “A Santiago Voy” plays in my head.

Santiago de Compostela comes in view. We cross a bridge over an expressway, into the outskirts of the city. The first bar we find is open, and I’m relieved to use the toilet and take a small break. I drink an Aquarius instead of the usual coffee, to keep my stomach safe.

We walk through rather modern buildings. Only as we near the heart of the city does the architecture start to look older. We go through an arch where someone is playing bagpipes, into the plaza where the Camino ends, and María appears! She’s ecstatic, and we hug. She points us excitedly in the direction of the pilgrim’s office, for us to get the Compostela and to rush to get the free meal at the Parador.

We walk briskly to the office, where we type in our details for the printing of the certificate. “Ho” is too short a surname for the computer, which is weird, so I have to put my Chinese name as my surname instead. Our certificate is printed in the next room. It feels very administrative, not particularly ceremonial. We’re also too late for the free meal, having just missed it to the pilgrims in front of us. Which is alright. We step out of the office, and realise we’re not feeling any particular strong feelings. Maybe because are planning to go beyond Santiago to Fisterra and Muxía, so it’s not quite the end.

We plan to go for the 12pm Mass at the cathedral. On the way there, we bump into Antonio, and we hug warmly. He’s headed to Mass too.

At Mass, the famous swinging botafumeiro (Galician: smoke expeller) ceremony does not happen, although I see it hanging there. They mention the entrance of pilgrims today from some countries, but don’t mention Singapore. I don’t understand most of what is said. (I do hope I can improve my Spanish to the point that I can comprehend Mass on future Caminos.) At one point, I close my eyes and take some rest.

At the end of Mass, we are joyful to bump into Alberto, who’s with his friend Alba who has come here to see him. They bring us to get a seafood lunch at a place called Taberna O Gato Negro. It’s a hole-in-the-wall with a nondescript entrance that’s easily missed. But you enter to a bustling authentic down-to-earth place, like discovering a secret.

After lunch, Ingrid and I walk down the street, and sitting outdoors outside a place called Café Bar Monroy is Antonio, María, and two other Spanish friends of theirs, Eduardo and Jamie. We join them, and they buy a round of shots of neon yellow orujo for us. María talks excitedly about a comet that we might be able to catch in the sky in the next few nights. Alberto and Alba reach later and the circle gets bigger. Another pilgrim that some of the rest have met, Ana from Russia, joins after. It feels like a grand reunion.

Ingrid goes to make some prayers at the cathedral, so while waiting for her, I hang out with Antonio, Alberto, and Alba at the sunny part of the plaza. We meet two other pilgrims, Andre and Jacob from France, and also an older man called Mario, who writes a local magazine on the Camino. He’s excited to listen about my motivations for coming all the way from Singapore to do a Camino.

Ingrid comes when she is done, and we look up places to stay. At this point, the socialising has taken the whole afternoon, and it’s starting to get dark. We settle on Mundoalbergue, which is relatively central, and comes recommended to me from James, who stayed the night before.

Jae is also at the hostel, and we’re happy to see him. We meet two other pilgrims, Marie from France and Robin from Germany, who just arrived from the Camino Portugués. They are ending here, and spirits are high. We chat for quite a bit, sharing experiences on our respective Caminos.

It’s interesting to meet new pilgrims even after you’ve reached Santiago. I think about how it’s the people along the journey that makes the ending sweet, not the reaching of the destination.

It’s late by the time we all go for dinner and for celebratory drinks. Upon returning, I fall asleep almost immediately.