The days flew by .sx Again and again I returned to the cathedral .sx To Mateo .sx Just behind the Gate of Glory , facing down the long nave , there is a small statue of the master who created this wonderful work in stone .sx Tradition suggests you knock your forehead against his , hoping to obtain some measure of his gifts .sx There was always a steady stream of people climbing up the steps behind the altar , where they may clasp the saint by the neck , kissing and touching his cape of relics .sx It is as if all the scuffs and scars and scabs of the journey of that tired , worried figure , you have seen again and again , in the worn robe , wide-brimmed hat , staff , and leather bottle , it is as if his wear and tear has been transformed into gems , just as he is transformed .sx He is no longer an anxious traveller , but a witness to the peace , perfection and resolve of heaven .sx Feet of every description peep out from the dark of the confessional boxes on either side of the nave .sx Margery Kempe must have cherished her absolution from here .sx The murmur of masses and liturgy continues throughout the day .sx On random , important feasts , the vast bota-fumeiro , a silver incense - burner five feet high is swung by six priests in an arc in front of the altar , from ropes to the lantern above .sx The air is filled with white smoke and the excited , cheering applause of the pilgrims .sx In the Plaza Obradoiro there is the magnificent Hostal de Los Reyes Catolicos .sx It was built by Isabel and Ferdinand to house the pilgrims .sx Now it is considered to be , possibly , the most outstandingly beautiful hotel in Europe .sx I was told conflicting tales of the hotels' contemporary hospitality to pilgrims .sx Some said that those who received a Compostela , verifying their genuine pilgrimage , may eat three meals for three days , or one meal for one day , in the hotel's kitchens .sx I felt I should find out the facts .sx The staff were immensely courteous .sx They said that three meals for three days was given to the pilgrims in the hotel kitchens .sx I was given a slip to gain entry to the kitchens and seek out some foot-sore pilgrims for lunch the next day .sx In spite of all their courtesy , the hotel staff certainly do not like the pilgrims loitering about in their magnificent hall .sx Down dark passages , past the garages , through a little garden , then up and down more passages , until the evidence of steam and cooking smells lead you clearly in the right kitchen direction .sx Great hunks of red meat , large gleaming fish , the deft pull and slap and cut of the chefs at work in various different kitchens .sx Then the huge , hot sluice of the washing-up , tired , aproned women in caps , going about their business with a certain degree of exhausted resignation ; quite unlike the flourish and panache of the cooks .sx A very heavy wooden platter is loaded by the chefs .sx That day it was spinach soup , some dark burger , mountains of chips , a large orange , and a generous glass of vino tino .sx It is quite difficult to carry a heavy breadboard , without sides of any kind , and all these objects on it .sx It looked and felt extremely precarious .sx Concentrating madly on my wooden platter , rather as you might at an egg and spoon race , I mistook the direction , and found I had pushed the door through into the hotel dining-room .sx Immediately an appalled mob of major domos rushed to redirect me .sx The room where all the hotel staff and all the pilgrims take their meals , looked like some leftover sixties' bar .sx The red carpet shone with dropped food , ground in .sx But the space was cool and comfortable .sx There were many women eating , from the hotel staff .sx There was no sign of a pilgrim .sx Then suddenly three sunburnt men walked in .sx They were definitely pilgrims .sx There was a Frenchman - Michel - he was fifty-eight from Le Mans , he had walked 1600 kilometres from Le Puy .sx Paul , the tallest and most relaxed was a banker from Amsterdam , he was twenty-three .sx Friso , another Dutchman was the youngest .sx He was nineteen .sx He had been walking for three months .sx For the next four hours they eagerly regaled their adventures .sx All three , with quite different motives and intentions agreed on one thing , it was The Way , El Camino that mattered .sx The Way was everything .sx For Michel it had been a serious and definitely religious experience .sx He had made an Ignatian retreat in preparation for the journey .sx He was an austere man .sx As he recounted his experiences , his eyes lit up and he became increasingly animated .sx Two words brought to all three an identical reaction .sx Aubrac and Figeac .sx Aubrac for its danger and isolation , a day's walking in dense fog and deep snow , with nothing but God and a compass , as Michel put it .sx People had died there .sx Figeac was memorable for the violent and threatening distaste of the parish priest for all pilgrims .sx Each one , at different times had been hurled abuse by him , and sent off to the police .sx " I can't wait , " Michel said , " to visit that priest in a suit and tie and get out of a clean car , and and sic !sx then ask him who his neighbour is ?sx " .sx The real horrors , even worse than rain and tempest and unfriendly priests , were the dogs .sx Recently a woman had been savaged to death by dogs .sx Michel had taken a gas gun as protection against dogs , but he had never used it .sx He had killed two vipers .sx Spain was deemed to be far more welcoming than France .sx In France , Friso said , " I felt like a clochard , a vagabond , an oddity .sx Only in Spain did I feel the welcome of a pilgrim .sx " Friso was very endearing , very frank and open .sx He had gone to grow up , to find out who he was .sx " You have to get away from your family , " he said , " in the first two weeks I was terrified - no bed , no place - then suddenly I thought , it's nothing , just get up and walk twenty kilometres , that's all it is .sx One night I sat for seven hours in the pouring rain , no shelter , no tree , no wall , nothing .sx I couldn't believe it .sx It was terrible .sx Then afterwards I thought , it's not so big a thing , not really .sx " .sx For every story of rejection and dog or pig horrors , there were wonderful tales of welcome .sx A bishop's bed with duvet , everything , and no charge .sx The Benedictine welcome always seemed to come top .sx Friso had found a small house on the route , in France , near Lousine , with a large placard on the cottage wall , with the sign of the shell and a notice that read :sx Compostela 924 k Drinking water .sx Friso had knocked at the door and found a great welcome .sx Every night the family lay a spare place at the table in case a pilgrim comes by .sx The blessing at Roncevalles was holy , different , definitely special .sx They were all well and both glad and sad that it was over .sx But Friso felt uneasy .sx He wanted to keep walking .sx He didn't want to return home .sx He wasn't ready .sx With his rucksack on his back , he felt free , different .sx He wanted to go on .sx Both Paul and Friso were ardent admirers of Sir Ranulph Fiennes .sx I stressed that my connections were remote , bloodless , less than incidental .sx But they were still inordinately pleased that we should have the same name .sx All of them stressed the power of silence .sx The need to be alone and find oneself in that silence .sx As they talked together of The Way , the obstacles , the people , the different refugios , the signs ; crosses and bridges , passes and chapels ; with groans , again and again , at the word Figeac , you felt the great importance of physicality in the quest .sx Moving alone , with silence as the single companion , seems a most profound means to register the natural balance of world without , and world within .sx Continually the talk had to be of return .sx Return must be within the shape of every adventure , and certainly of every pilgrimage .sx It occurred to me that to meet a genuine woman pilgrim somewhere near my own age , would be interesting .sx Vaguely as I wandered about Santiago , I had my ears pricked as it were , to discover such a person .sx There were various art tours , with erudite guides .sx There were several , worn , solitary men , but few women .sx Paul had said that a woman was on her way , travelling with two children , but my flight was booked before she was due .sx Then suddenly I saw this smiling , open face , fair hair flying , blue jeans , pink shirt .sx Without thinking I said in English , " Are you a real pilgrim ?sx " I usually started with :sx Do you speak French or English , but luckily Gustava spoke English and she was a real pilgrim .sx She was German .sx She was a doctor .sx She had promised herself this pilgrimage after her fiftieth birthday celebration .sx She had four sons , they were wonderfully vivid as she described them , and obviously very close to her .sx Their ages were between fourteen and twenty-six .sx Her husband lives and works at the centre of the Arts , worldwide .sx " Black tie , is our natural uniform .sx " Although Gustava is a doctor , she felt that she wanted , in some way , to widen her sense of herself , beyond her profession , marriage and motherhood .sx She had walked for ten days alone , starting at Astorga .sx Her first night at Ponferrada , on a damp mattress in the presbytery cellar , had been the hardest .sx Her son Cornelius had said as she left .sx .. " I hope you find what you are looking for .sx " .sx I asked her what she had found .sx " I have sown seeds , " she said , " Now I must go home , live and work and wait for the harvest .sx I'll tell you in two years .sx " .sx We had delicious meals together , walked out of Santiago to a small Romanesque church and bussed to Padron .sx Gustava was full of tales ; eager with all the adventures , but she was also very happy to be going home .sx " Certainly it had been difficult , sometimes grim , " How had she coped .sx " I trained myself to remember the faces of the children , they were so clear , as if they were with me .sx " .sx Gustava , like the others , stressed that 'The Way' , to be one who is " on The Way " , was an extraordinary feeling .sx She told of the joy of continually seeing the sign , a yellow shell , on blue ground .sx " When you come to a crossroads , that shows no sign , nothing , then your heart is so heavy .sx But then suddenly it is there again , on a stone wall , a barn , the bark of a tree .sx Your joy then is indescribable .sx Involuntarily you cry out for joy .sx " .sx I asked Gustava why she had gone .sx " For my sins , " she replied smiling .sx Never has anyone seemed so loving , open , caring and sinless .sx Gustava is a Catholic .sx She explained to me that although you may be absolved of sin , the sin is itself a separation from God .sx She had wanted to work through that separation .sx " Also I wanted to thank , " she said , " thank for my life and health and my immediate family and I wanted to pray for two particular people .sx " .sx I thought of Cornelius's remark to his mother .sx One is always looking .sx Perhaps finding , is simply , looking further .sx 'Looking' is life .sx Maybe a pilgrimage puts that 'looking' into keener focus .sx Just as at Rocamadour and V e zelay , it was sad to be in Santiago for the last time .sx It is easy to try too hard to see and feel .sx To be filled with excitement and longing , and miss the point completely .sx I wondered what I had been looking for .sx Certainly the adventure with cancer had been an impetus .sx There had been some sense of urgency after that , urgency towards a deeper understanding of oneself ; the nature and opportunity of one's being .sx Obviously quality of life depends on the kind of trigger you choose .sx Carl Jung once said , " To my mind it is more important that an idea exists , than that it is true .sx " .sx