This is the first time I’ve brought my laptop on vacation. Well… on a workcation. I’m taking a course on new technologies applied to education at Academia Iria Flavia, which I’ll write about in more detail later. But I wanted to send this little Galician postcard with my first impressions of Santiago de Compostela and the surrounding areas.

I arrived on July 25, the feast day of Santiago, Saint James, the city’s patron saint. At ten-thirty that night, people were still out celebrating, and there was a beautiful concert in the Cathedral Square. The haunting alalás, Galicia’s traditional songs, went straight to my heart. Genetic inheritance? My Celtic roots? Well… perhaps.

I’m staying with a delightful family: María José, her husband Manuel, and their well-behaved cat Leo, who is very much a member of the family. A little while ago I went into my room and found him comfortably settled between the sheets. Meow.

Yesterday I returned to the cathedral and was finally able to see it from the inside. It is breathtaking. The famous Botafumeiro wasn’t swinging that day… maybe next time. I took a picture of it anyway.

There are pilgrims everywhere, backpacks and all. What has surprised me most is the remarkable lack of tourist traps. There are souvenir shops, of course, but they’re tasteful, clean, and understated. Outside, the areas near the Cathedral are full of people, most of them locals enjoying the cool air and the lush greenery.

And yet, everyone keeps complaining about the heat. Having left Hobbs with temperatures of 105 degrees and dry desert air, I don’t dare say a word. This is heaven!

Near my hosts’ home there’s a Casa del Libro bookstore. Of course, I did some serious shopping. There are sections of books in Galician and in English too. Besides Spanish, naturalmente.

I’ve also fallen in love with the tapas. The Spanish tortilla, so different from the one we know in Cuba, is thicker and made with potatoes.

As usual, my frame of reference tends to be literary. I shared this little story on Facebook:

Locutorios…

I was walking back from Plaza Roja, trying to find the house where I’m staying, because, as usual, I got lost. I asked an elderly lady for directions, and she said, “Just go past where the locutorios used to be…”

“Excuse me,” I interrupted her, “do you mean a convent?”

To me, locutorios are the parlors in convents where nuns used to receive visits from family and friends, the kind Benito Pérez Galdós describes in Fortunata and Jacinta. The poor woman stared at me and said, “No! I mean the old public telephone booths. What century are you from?”

I liked that question so much that I replied, “The late nineteenth. I’m a time traveler.”

Our class has also visited several beautiful places like the Ézaro Waterfall. I have to come back with Gary someday. He would love these landscapes.

We also went to the seaside town of Muros, a fishing village. Our guide told us that, in the old days, the houses were painted different colors so that the fishermen, who spent so much time away at sea, could recognize their homes as they sailed back into the harbor. Whether it’s actually true or not, quien sabe… but it’s such a cute story that I choose to believe it.