While talking to a friend in Los Angeles the other day, the Camino came up and I told him about a wonderful book I had read years ago, before coming to live in Spain. After we talked I thought, since it had been years since I read it, maybe now was a good time to read it again, since I liked it so much the first time.

This was the only book that had Santiago in the title, so I figured this was the book I was thinking of. But no. It is not. I suppose I read this years ago too, and maybe I liked it, since I still had it on my shelf. Starting in again I thought it was very good. What a lovely introduction about traveling to certain, special places:
"It is impossible to prove and yet I believe it: there are some places in the world where one is mysteriously magnified on arrival or departure by the emotions of all those who have arrived and departed before. Anyone possessed of a soul so light feels a gentle tug in the air around the Schreierstoren, the Sorrowers' Tower in Amsterdam, which has to do with the accumulated sadness of those left behind. It is a sadness we do not experience today: our journeys no longer take years to complete, we know exactly where it is we are going, and our chances of coming back are so much greater."

It goes on for a while in the same vein and it's lovely. But after a while Nooteboom and I turned up on different sides of the road. He is obsessed with and enamored of Spain. I dislike it about as much as he loves it. The ignorance and brutality that he appreciates turns me off. He isn't going to Santiago, although I suppose he gets there in the end. He is wandering all over Spain, although he gives Barcelona and Catalonia only the time it takes to drive across and leave, while he returns to Madrid countless times (which may account for why he knows so little about Catalonia, only mentioning Salvador Dali in relation to the melting of time). When he went on and on.... and on about the painter Zurbaran, I totally lost interest. Cervantes was interesting but after that, it was adios.

And the worst thing is that I can't find that book I really liked. I thought it was also by a Dutchman, but maybe not? He starts the Camino in France but can't do the whole walk in one go. So he returns two more times. Anyone know what book that is? And why it isn't still on my shelf? ( )

Now I want to go to Spain and look at paintings again. Mannnnnnn. ( )

Prepared to be swept away by Nooteboom's luxurious descriptions of Spain. Everything seen through his lens is treated with lavish prose. I could see the styles of Roman and Gothic architecture as if I were standing in front of each structure. Renaissance and Baroque art come to life with vivid reality. I now want to visit the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela with its pillars marked with fingerprints. While Nooteboom subtitles his book "a modern-day pilgrimage" we look in on the 8th century in a time of Beatus, King Silo, and the Carolingian Empire. Nooteboom draws parallels between Antigone of Sophocles and the Spanish state after Euzkadi ta Askatsuna targeted violence. We dance between historical and modern Spain with personal anecdotes thrown in for good measure. Aside from the beautiful writing, Nooteboom included stunning black and white photographs. Too bad they are not in color. ( )

The sole deficit, is its detail, some citations ran along and blurred Nooteboom's intent. otherwise, it was superb in long form as Nomad Hotel was in miniature. ( )

An unusual viewpointin tat the author deeply loves Spain and Santiago but is not a Catholic or even a Chrsitian, yet he feels a strong spiritual power n Santiago and feels a need to travel there and elsewhere in Spain; the material is at least as much on traveling in modern Spain as on Santiago itself. ( )