When I came into the Cathedral square on Sunday afternoon I was wet and cold. The sky was grey. The baroque roof line of the cathedral looked like an unfamiliar jumble to me. My Camino was over yet all I wanted to do was get into a warm shower and put on dry clothes. To ad insult to injury I got diverted by some traffic divisors (shades of Montreal) and came in through an alternate entry, completely missing the famous bagpiper.
Yesterday made up for that however. My friend, Chris welcomed me at the albergue and asked if I would like to come with her the next day on a bus tour to the coast. Now, some stalwarts walk another three days but we were both quite ready to put ourselves in the hands of a commercial tour guide and see the sights in comfort.
But for me the wonder of the day was Muxia where ancient Celtic legends merge with stories of St. James. The turquoise underplay of waves, the sound of surf, the huge rocks, many with local beliefs of healing properties all made me want to stay. At last I felt the satisfaction of having walked day after day to reach my goal. I remembered the kindness and fellowship of fellow pilgrims and looked far out to the horizon, realizing that I could keep this wonder with me forever,