PIETY, PAELLA AND PAINTINGS: THREE SIDES OF SPAIN From The North To The South, A Look At Three Cities Of Spain As Unique As The Country Itself

By Ben Snook

Getting off the plane at Santiago airport felt like cheating. Ever since the bones of St James turned up at Santiago de Compostela more than a thousand years ago, pilgrims have trekked through Europe to visit what rapidly became Europe’s second most holy site, after only Rome itself. Some of Europe’s oldest highways were first laid out in order to facilitate the journey: they lead from as far away as Scandinavia and Poland and took pilgrims through France, over the Pyrenees and across the Spanish coastline. I walked out of the plane into a torrential spring downpour. I had left bright, crisp sunshine behind in England. Things were not going well so far.

Santiago itself, though, more than made up for that. Like most Spanish cities, it is hard to distinguish the “modern” suburbs of Santiago from its spectacular medieval centre. In northern Europe, the 1960’s and 1970’s saw a profusion of Soviet-style tower-blocks spring up in a vulgar halo around many ancient city centers. Santiago has its modern architecture, of course, but set against the lush green of the surrounding hills and in the context of some of the most striking buildings in the whole of Spain, the majority of the city has managed to retain its historic charm.

Rounding a corner and coming upon the massive Santiago cathedral is an experience not to be forgotten in a hurry. The cathedral (the city’s first) was built in 829 and, ever since, it has been rebuilt, expanded and augmented by successive monarchs and dukes wishing to cement their place in history by some new and magnificent contribution to Santiago’s already overcrowded architectural heritage. The only leader to buck the trend was Mohammed ibn-Abi Amir, an agent of the Caliph of Cordoba, who, when he sacked Santiago in 997, razed the great church to its foundations. In the millennium since then, however, it has had plenty of time to recover. The sublime carvings on the cathedral’s famous western façade were completed in 1750 and constitute some of the most magnificent examples of western sculpture still in existence. It’s possible to stand for hours in the grand square opposite the cathedral and gaze at every detail of this beautifully precise and implausibly intricate masterpiece. If one did, though, one would probably get rather wet. Along with magnificent scenery and imposing churches, rain is a major feature of Santiago, but experiencing a good Santiago storm is well worth it; no other city I have ever visited glistens and sparkles in the wet quite like Santiago.

Moreover, the weather is a good excuse to visit a bar. Gallicia is famous for its tapas -- tasty bar snacks designed to make you order more beer (which, to me, seems like a very satisfactory arrangement). Every bar has its own speciality which will invariably be served free along with a drink. Seafood is popular -- octopus being a particular favorite -- but there are plenty of cured meats and cheeses as well. Such is the quantity of the tapas that it’s possible to consume a complete lunch just by going from bar to bar ordering nothing but drinks, being pleasantly surprised by whatever comes out accompanying them. The food in Spain generally is something special; Santiago is no exception. There is little extravagant cooking here. There are few famous restaurants and little opportunity for formal, tucked-in-shirt style dining. Yet the many small bars and restaurants serve cheap, delicious food in astonishing quantities. It’s all too easy to spend a whole afternoon grazing from bar to bar sampling their specialities.

I was only in Santiago for three days. Had we stayed any longer we would have found ourselves in something of a quandary: we should have moved on and seen somewhere else (the cities of Vigo and La Coruña are close enough to warrant a visit), but dragging oneself away from one’s table, with an endless supply of beer and tapas, overlooking the handsome, glittering city is not an easy thing to do.

The Costa Blanca is an altogether very different experience. Ever since the late 1960s, Northern Europeans have been making an annual pilgrimage to Spain’s warm, sandy coasts to fry themselves to a striking shade of scarlet. The Spanish, though, know when they’re on to a good thing: by sacrificing the odd fishing village here and unspoiled stretch of virgin sand there, they have constructed a crescent of huge resorts stretching from Benidorm on the Costa Blanca round to Marbella. Old-fashioned, whitewashed fishermen’s shacks and the colorful markets that they once supplied have been swept away in favor of the towering spires of convoluted hotels all proudly boasting “we speak the English” on sandwich boards outside their doorways.