I’m tucked away in Santiago de Compostela, in the northwest corner of Spain. It’s my last day here before flying to Rome. I have a three-part agenda: see pilgrims reach their goal in front of the cathedral, explore the market, and buy some barnacles in the seafood section — then have them cooked for me, on the spot, in a café.
Whenever I’m here, I make a point to be on the big square, at the foot of the towering cathedral of St. James, at around 10 in the morning. That’s when scores of well-worn pilgrims march in triumphantly from their last overnight on the train — most finishing a 30-day, 500-mile hike from the French border. They finish their camino by stepping on the scallop shell embedded in the pavement at the foot of the cathedral. I just love watching how different people handle jubilation.
If Europe had a rain forest, it would be here. But instead it has a city made of granite painted green by moss. The historic and stony buildings of Santiago come in a watercolor green. Rainy as it often is, this morning the church is back-lit by the rising sun and, looking up, the weary pilgrim squints…small before God.
Routinely, pilgrims ask me to take their photo and email it to them. Then they say, “I’ve got to go meet with St. James” and — as has been the routine for a thousand years — they head into the cathedral.
Two blocks away, the market is thriving, oblivious to the personal triumphs going on over at St. James’ tomb. There’s something about wandering through a farmers market early in the morning anywhere in the world. It’s a chance to observe the most fundamental commerce: Salt-of-the-earth people pull food out of the ground, cart it into the city, and sell what they’ve harvested to people who don’t have gardens.
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| A yummy box of pigs’ ears. Buy them tonight at your favorite tapas bar. Enlarge photo |
Dried-apple grandmothers line up like a babushka can-can. Each sits on a stool so small it disappears under her work dress. At the women’s feet are brown woven baskets filled like cornucopias — still-dirty eggs in one; in the next, greens clearly pulled this morning, soil clinging to their roots. One woman hopes to earn a few extra euros with homebrews — golden bottles with ramshackle corks — one named “licor café,” the other, more mysteriously, “oruzo casero.”
Another row of babushkas in shawls sit before rickety card tables filled with yellow cheeses shaped like giant Hershey’s Kisses…or, to locals, breasts. The local cheese is called tetilla — that’s “tits” — to revenge a prudish priest who, seven centuries ago, told a sculptor at the cathedral to redo a statue that he considered too buxom. Ever since, the townsfolk have shaped their cheese like exactly what the priest didn’t want them to see carved in stone. And you can’t go anywhere in Santiago without seeing cheese tetilla. In fact the town is famous for its creamy, mild tetilla.
Stepping further into the market, I notice spicy red chorizo chains framing merchants’ faces. Chickens, plucked and looking rubber as can be, fill glass cases. The sound of cascading clams and castanet shrimp — red, doomed, and flipping mad — greets me as I enter the seafood hall. Fisherwomen in rubber aprons and matching gloves sort through folding money.
There’s a commotion at the best stalls. Short ladies with dusty, blue-plaid roller carts jostle for the best deals. A selection of pigs’ ears mixed with hooves going nowhere fills a shoebox. The ears, translucent in the low rays of the morning sun, look as if someone had systematically and neatly flattened and filed conch shells.
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| Barnacles are very expensive unless you buy them in the market and have them cooked to order. They’re worth both the expense and trouble. Enlarge photo |
I buy my percebes(barnacles) — at €25 a kilo, they’re one-third the price I’d pay in a bar. I get 200 grams for €5 and hustle my full bag over to the market café called Churro Mania. There, Ramon and Julia boil them for €3 per person, plus 10 percent of the cost of whatever you have them cook up. Feeling quite like a local — sipping my beer so early in the morning — I wait for my barnacles to cook.
Then, the climax of my morning: Julia brings my barnacles, stacked steaming on their stainless steel plate, as well as bread, and another beer. I’m set. Twist, rip, bite. It’s the bounty of the sea condensed into every little morsel…edible jubilation.
Rick, do try the pig’s cheeks, if you get the chance, tender and delicious.
Rick, you make it sound so inviting! glad your work has some fun to it.
Rick…..I feel like I am there as you describe things so well …..I had churros in Madrid in a local bar/cafe near Santa Ana….all locals ….I threw my napkins on the floor like you suggested in your guidebook …this was 1998….the morning I left my small pension on Plaza Santa Ana I gave the owner and his wife 3/4 bottle of red wine ..it was 8 AM and they insisted I have toast with sugar with them and two big glasses of some clear liquor like grappa…I thanked them and partook….had some stomach problems later as I landed in Manchester but it was worth it to make a positive friendly connection with my hosts in Madrid…. today’s word seems fitting: potpourri
Rick this is my final travel day in spain. Already I miss the intensity of the people celebrating seemingly all night, and the tapas smells and favorful bite-sized variety. Here is another shamless plug, commission-free, of gratitude for your fine etbd tour which I and 28 others just completed, barcelona and madrid tied by high speed ave train. I loved each minute, from breakfast-style tapas to late night cuban dancing (at least I could watch). The tour was filled with non-stop adventures thrills. Thanks too, back on point, for the great blog on another future destination, santiago, on my list for the next spain visit. Larry from springfield, your long time travel promoter/traveler in oregon.
Hello Rick, I appreciate this post it is very interesting to me, Rick do you have any idea about accommodation packages in hoteles en Segovia? I hope you can post pertaining of my concern.. Thanks!!
Rick – although your blogs are very interesting and descriptive what happened to the pictures you usually take? You do have a camera with you don’t you?
Rick, Thanks for all your suggetions. I went to Santiago market on Saturday moorning too but I could not eat my barnacles (percebes) because I was travelling with an American friend who is vegetarian ;(
This takes me back to when I studied for a summer at the University of Santiago de Compostela. I am enchanted by this place.
It’s nice to see RS back to doing what he does so well: writing descriptive narratives of his travel experiences punctuated by entertaining vignettes. When a previous blogger, “Larry from Springfield,OR” wrote that Rick’s comments about Santiago might entice Larry to travel there, Larry reinforced the true value of RS’s travel writing. Bill Kester, SC
Rick, I have really enjoyed your books for their history, humor and helpfulness. I almost met you in Santiago this past weekend! Twice when I had your book out, bartenders told me you had just been in there hours before!
What a life. Thanks for sharing it.
Rick, I have been reading your blog each day during my lunch break. It has been a fun vicarious tour, so far. I can’t wait to read about your arrival in Italy. My guess is that you arrived there (according to your blog) on the 27th and have been working busily on research for us – I’m looking forward to what your new backdoor adventure stories will be! Italy has special interest for me this year because we are escorting my Mom and Dad there in celebration of their 50th wedding anniversary later this summer. Mom has only been to Europe in her dreams and Dad hasn’t seen Italy since 1957!
Welcome to Rome! I passed you today in Trastevere while out walking with my (singing) toddler and my visiting mom. Rick Steves in my neighborhood! If you have time for true romanesco meal (my treat), drop me a line. Either way, thanks for all you do & safe travels. -H.
Rick, I like your work, but I’m sorry to inform you that the liquor drink is not “ouzo” but Orujo, a homemade orujo very typical in Galicia and Cantabria. It’s a (normally) clear, high alcohol content drink commonly named aguardiente and is consumed throughout Spain. So it’s really not that mysterious at all, as you say, and I’m surprised someone didn’t explain it to you while you were there.