The Paradore Hotel

About a week prior to arriving in Santiago, Ken and Malcom had discussed what their plans were for staying there once we arrived. They had planned on getting a hotel, and were looking to see which one would win the honor of being Ken Camino's concluding accommodations. It was during this discussion that I had first heard of the Paradore Hotel.

“Wait, what? Five star hotel?”

“Yeah. There’s a hotel that’s literally RIGHT next to the Cathedral. It used to be a public hospital for Pilgrims back in the middle ages, but they made it into a hotel during the 50’s. It’s supposed to be THE best hotel in the whole city….”

“Huh. Do you know how much it costs?”

“Yeah. Book says it costs about 200 Euros….definitely expensive. I’ve never stayed there myself, but it’s always seemed interesting. They even give tours for people who aren’t guests.”

The high price tag was enough to initially dissuade me from wanting to check in (particularly after spending a good deal of money already just being out and about on the Camino), but over the course of the week heading towards Santiago I went back and forth on whether or not I would explore the idea further once I arrived. And in that moment, standing at the doors of the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, I made my decision: Of course I would. 

High price tag be damned. If there were ever a moment where somebody could actually justify spending an exorbitant amount of money on a hotel room,  the short list of  worthwhile reasons is likely to include “completed religious pilgrimage.” Plus, 5 star hotels in the US easily go for much more than that, ESPECIALLY as a walk in on a Saturday night before Easter.

I made the short journey across the plaza from the Cathedral to the front of the Hotel:

…Where I promptly entered and made my way through the lobby to the front desk. Strange. Even though I was nowhere near five-star in appearance, I didn’t feel like I was unwelcome or perceived as a nuisance as I had been in other “nicer” places I had stayed as a hiker.

“Hello, sir.”

The clerks speak English. Excellent.

“Hi. Um…I just finished the Camino, and I’d like a room.”

“No problem. Just a moment.”

The clerk looked down at her computer and began typing

I began looking around. Even the lobby was impressive. It had a very old feel, yet not to the point of being oppressively antiquey (some more historical places really overdo it on the ‘we’re amazingly special because we’re old as fuck’ charm).  A good deal of the original stonework had been preserved, and the newer parts seemed to blend very tastefully with the older parts.

“Ok sir.”

The clerk had finished with her computer

“This is the rate for tonight…”

She scrawled out “211” on a piece of scrap paper. Generally a best practice when dealing with English-speaking individuals….we tend to shorten our numbers by combining smaller ones in our speech (two eleven) whereas the Spanish almost always say the complete number (two hundred eleven). This creates some confusion, so writing it out is easy for both parties.

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“Ok sir…here is your key….”

She handed me an exceptionally heavy brass key with an even heavier keychain attached to it, on which was stamped the Paradore hotel logo in  a very ornate fashion. You know, in case I had to beat someone to death with it. Free advertising in the morgue and courtroom evidence photos.

“And I will need a credit card.”

I handed it over, expecting her to run it right away (like the silent clerk from Logrono). But instead, she simply scanned it in and gave it back.

“This is just to keep it on file. We’re not gonna charge you until you check out…”

A fine establishment indeed.

“Now your room is not quite ready, but you are welcome to stay here or leave your bags here. He can help you…”

I looked around. A smartly dressed bellhop had appeared next to me as I was talking to the clerk.

“Would you like me to take your luggage, sir?”

Luggage. Huh….Well that’s the first time I heard it called that.

“No, no. That’s fine. It’s kinda dirty and doesn’t smell too good, and you look pretty well dressed….I wouldn’t want you to get your clothes dirty from carrying it…”

I don’t think he understood all of what I said, but he got the gist.

“Please follow me, sir….”

I was then lead to a small back room full of various bags. And, surprisingly, a good amount of packs! I was clearly not the only pilgrim here. Made me feel better about my choice.

I grabbed some things out of my pack, then set off to do some exploring before dinner.

I returned to the hotel, eager to rest a while before going back out for drinks and likely more partying with the group. I checked with the front desk.

“Ah yes, your room is ready now.”

“Excellent…oh, and one more thing….”

“Yes?”

“Would it be possible to arrange for a late checkout tomorrow?”

The lady looked at me like I had just asked her something so insane that ….

“That…might be difficult….”

Good ole 5 star rules. Can’t say “no”, but they can say “challenging”, “difficult”, or “attempt.”

“The latest I can give you is 1pm”

“Fair enough, I’ll have to take it….”

Pilgrim mass is at 11. Should be enough time to go to mass, say goodbyes, round up the group, and head out…

I thanked the clerk, then headed upstairs to my room:

Visually impressive, but I honestly preferred the modern style room I had in Pamplona over the more traditional room at the Paradore. But that being said, I don’t think I’d been in a bathroom with that much marble. Like, ever. And it had both a shower AND a tub. Because sometimes you just gotta bathe while you bathe. Or something.

After a shower, I opted to explore the Paradore a bit more. With all that history, the grounds were quite impressive. It reminded me a bit of the seemingly endless mansion in a video game called “Amnesia”…large hallways, ornamental fixtures, impressive original décor, sprawling dining rooms, large open courtyards with well-tended gardens….it truly was a site to behold:

I was also able to get some impressive pictures of the Cathedral, plaza, and the old city surrounding it:

I continued exploring the hotel grounds for an hour or two, taking various pictures and not attempting to hide the fact that I was a tourist at all. Then, just before 6, I returned to my room, did my best to freshen up (as if that is something I could actually do as a pilgrim just off the trail), and headed out to meet the group for drinks/dinner:

Starting at the head of the table and going down the left side:

Malcom (Ken crew), Marky-Mark (2 weeker, American from Colorado), Anna (Ken crew), Andreas (German, acquaintance), Amelie (Ken crew), Matt (Ken crew), Thorsten (German, acquaintance), Jaques (French-Canadian, honorary Ken crew member via Canadian association), Ken (The man, the myth, the legend), and myself (Ken crew).

Not pictured: Ronja (Ken crew, behind camera), Lotti (Ken crew), Karin (Ken crew).

Basking at a café in the setting sun with good friends, good food, and good wine in a plaza roughly four times as old as the country I call my home. Not a bad way to spend an evening.

“Oh hey, Adrian”

Malcom moved from his seat to my side of the table

“You’re checking your bag on your flight home, right?”

I didn’t want to, but I had no choice. Hiking poles MUST be checked, and there was no way I was going to leave mine behind.

“Unfortunately…”

“Here, take this”

Malcom handed me a medium size pocket knife:

“It’s not the best, but I got it when I was over here just to have a knife to carry. You take it, otherwise I’ll have to get rid of it.”

“Oh cool. Thanks Malcom.”

I already had a small folding blade which I carried on the AT as well, but it was no big deal to carry two knives. Plus it was kind of a cool memento.

We dined for several hours in true European style, going through three courses (all excellent) plus dessert. It was truly exquisite food of the highest quality. Ken had chosen the restaurant well. Yet as the evening wound down, Ken brought up a more serious matter...

“Alright, so who all’s going to Finnisterre?”

Ken addressed the group. This topic had been discussed previously in the group in passing, but nothing really set in stone.  We were all mainly concerned with getting to Santiatgo. But now we were here, and there was still 90km left before the unofficial “end” of the trail.

Technically, the Camino de Frances does end at the Cathedral, but the fact that generations of pilgrims have traditionally continued on to the sea regardless of the “official” terminus made it an appealing finish to the journey.

I initially didn’t think I would continue on to Finisterre when I started, but after meeting Frank the Scott (who was doing the entire thing over again in the ‘spirit’ of the Camino just to be able to go to Finisterre), I changed my mind.

"I am."

I raised my hand, looking around to see who else had planned on going. Ronja's hand was already up, as was Anna's and Amelie's. Matt's was not.

"Maaatttt!"

Amelie exclaimed, in that whiny universal tone of disappointment that is universally shared among females.

"You GOTTA go!"

"I don't...know...."

"C'mon! it will be fun!"

Ronja chimed in

"Yes. It will be quite fun! Come with us!"

"Well alright. But it BETTER be awesome!"

Matt was in.

"Anyone else?"

No additional hands were raised. I looked down the table at Karin. She looked at me. And did nothing.

I continued to look down the table at Karin. And she continued to look at me. And did nothing.

I motioned for her to raise her hand, but she shook her head.

"Flight" she mouthed.

Ah right. I did just help her book one the night before, and it was leaving within a day. Not long enough to make it to Finisterre.

"Ken, Malcom, no Finisterre for you?" I asked.

Ken answered. "Nope. Been there before, but not for me this go around. Malcom wants to get home, and our flight's already booked."

Bummer.   

The people who WERE going to Finisterre began congregating around one end of the table and were starting to make plans. And, like true hikers, everyone had brought their respective books.

"Ok, so it looks like it'll take three days to get there. We'll go to Pilgrim's mass tomorrow morning and leave soon ahf-tuh"

"Ahf-tuh". Apparently Ronja is an English German. Who knew?

Anna chimed in.

"I can make reservations at the Albergue for us. Then whoever gets there first..."

The group looked expectedly at me. I smiled and shrugged.

".,...I mean...I don't hike THAT fast..."

Amelie rolled her eyes.

"No, seriously, I really don't think that I do..."

"Whoever gets their FIRST..."

Anna redirected the attention back to the task at hand.

"...Can get sheets and everything set up."

The group nodded.

"Awesome. And I've got a room at the Paradore, which is literally ON the way out of the city on the Camino. Makes sense to leave our stuff in my room while we're at mass, then grab it on our way out and hit the trail." 

Ronja nodded.

“Alright. We’ll meet you at your place at 10am. Drop the packs in your room, then head to pilgrim’s mass. Then immediately after, we’ll get them, load up, and be on our way.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Alright. Come on then!”

Ronja raised her glass.

“To Finisterre!”

We all toasted, downed the last of our drinks, and split up to walk back to our various hostels/hotels.