Camino del Norte: Güemes to Santillana del Mar

The response to the people who were robbed was pretty remarkable. Albert did some translating and Jenni lent her phone to a Dutch pilgrim named Henric so he could get back in contact with us after he went to the police station. While the theft victims were driven to the police station to file a report, the lucky pilgrims who were unscathed began their day to Santander.

The route to Santander from Güemes consisted of a pretty coastal walk through small surf towns before we had to get on a ferry that took us to the city. On the way to the ferry I got to know some more pilgrims. Because the Güemes albergue is such a destination, this was my first time meeting many of the pilgrims who stayed there.

When we arrived in Santander we waited for a bit so that Jenni could get her phone back from Henric. We got news that his passport had been recovered. Turns out that during a lot of these thefts the perpetrator just tosses the passport out somewhere. Henric was one of the pilgrims who woke up while this thief had been climbing up a ladder but only after his stuff was stolen.

We managed to find Henric a new “dumb” phone just before Santander began its siesta. We then began our walk to Santa Cruz de Bezama. We knew that if we didn’t walk further than Santander we would have a very long day ahead of us the following day. By this time the sun was out and we were feeling pretty tired from the long day.

Albert, Jenni, Henrik, and I arrived at the albergue exhausted. The hospitalera, Nieves, informed us that unfortunately the albergue was full. We briefly debated continuing on to the next town but it sounded like that albergue was full as well. This might be because so many pilgrims plan their route so that they go to Güemes that it creates a bottleneck in the flow of pilgrims.

I saw another Mae West poster on the wall as I had seen in a hostel in San Sebastián and wondered if she was a big deal in Spain. Either way it’s a fantastic omen.

Nieves approached her role as an hospitelera with a great deal of passion and care. The albergue had great style and to my excitement, lockers! I don’t know why most albergues don’t have something as simple as lockers. She explained that she would get us beds and we could sleep in the salon. I took a shower and discovered this amazing little device for drying clothes.

This is where I have to explain something we do as Americans that is so wasteful compared to most places in the world. It’s our driers. In the United States we pull our sopping wet clothing out of the washing machine and then stick them in driers that blast our clothing with heat and tumble it around in circles. In much of Europe the washing machines spin to wring out the water then you’re meant to hang the damp clothing out to finish drying. This device at the albergue spun the clothing and pretty efficiently pressed out the water. It operated like the swimsuit driers you see in locker rooms in the USA except much quieter. I’m sure I’m the only pilgrim who left the albergue raving about the drier.

We grabbed some snacks and drinks from the conveniently located supermarket and came back to hang out with our fellow pilgrims. Albergues like Nieves’, where there is a good communal area, do so much to facilitate connections between pilgrims. I got to know some of the pilgrims better that I had seen in passing at other places or even slept in the same room with at some point. One of the pilgrims even played the guitar for everyone.

For dinner Nieves made a wonderful Spanish tortilla, salad with tuna, and brie with jam. It was really wonderful. Nieves collected everyone’s phone and took a picture of the entire pilgrim family. This was another wonderful touch to help us remember the experience.

Nieves had a great cleaning policy that served as a small corrective to centuries of women being told to stay in the kitchen; The men had to wash all of the dishes and clean up. She also made the men wear aprons and flowers. Feminist icon.

After dinner and clean-up, Nieves assembled all of the pilgrims to explain the different options for the following etapa (stage) of the Camino. She pulled out a map and delivered instructions with the intensity of a general preparing troops for war. She told us about the various short cuts, which sections to look out for, and her advice for the walk. This included a section where she explained that there is an option for pilgrims to walk on the train tracks instead of taking the train. She said something along the lines of “It is prohibited, and you cannot do it. But IF you do, this is what you would need to know.” She then laid out the train schedule, how to cross safely, and minimize your risk of getting fined by the police. Nieves gave this explanation in Spanish, English, and French. Traveling as an American has a way of continuously reminding you that your language skills are absolute garbage.

The next morning we embarked on our walk to Santillana del Mar. It rained a lot but if it’s going to rain, you want it to rain during ugly etapas, and this is a pretty ugly etapa as far as Camino del Norte etapas go. We also took every shortcut we possibly could per Nieves’ instructions. I will not confirm or deny whether or not we crossed the train tracks by foot, but here’s how we would have done it if we had done it.

Hypothetically speaking, we would have waited underneath the bridge where the trains pass and wait for the next train headed away from Santander. Once the train crossed we would have walked across the bridge very quickly and definitely would not have taken any incriminating photos that would put us at enhanced risk of getting hit by a train. In theory it would take about 90 seconds to cross the bridge.

After a long, rainy day we arrived at Santillana del Mar. We had reserved some rooms at “El Convento” so it was nice not having to worry about where we were sleeping. Having stayed at both a monastery and a nunnery I thought this albergue would be similar. I was looking forward to my pilgrim’s blessing and to see thought I’d see some adorable nuns. The reality was that while El Convento may have been a convent at some point in time, today is a very chicly decorated hostel that looks like it was colonized by a Brooklynite.

Santillana del Mar is a very cool-looking medieval town in Cantabria. Unfortunately like many medieval towns it is completely overrun with tourists and filled with stores selling magnets and mugs. If this town were on the ocean you would expect to see hundreds of people spilling out of a cruise ship. It’s still a very cool town in which to spend some time.

We stopped at a local museum called “Museo de la Tortura: inquisición.” I have a healthy level of fascination with the macabre and thought it would be a nice revisit of a topic I wrote a paper about in the 8th grade. We paid the 4€ and went inside.

I have observed during my travels a phenomenon where torture museums have sprouted up all over Europe. You see them somewhere between the wax museums and the ice bars in larger European cities. It wasn’t until I went inside this one that I realized it to be the tourist trap that it was. It turns out that “inquisición” is just a location thing like “Tokyo Disneyland.” I didn’t learn much about the Inquisition but I did get the chance to look at some pretty fucked up tools people used on each other for hundreds of years. I was there with a multinational group of people and it was a running gag that everyone would point out one another’s country’s torture methods. Since the torture methods were pretty ancient, nobody was able to point to the USA very much, except for the whole waterboarding part.

We ended that night over some pizza at a local restaurant and said goodbye to Jenni and Albert, who had to head back home to Sitges. One sadness of the Camino is you end up saying goodbye all the time.

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