At 9:30 am there was no line at the church to visit St. James. The guard checked our bags before letting us in through the holy doors which are only open during Holy Years - about once every decade. The massive, green bronze doors depicted Jesus and the disciples in several scenes from the Bible.
Inside, we stood in line to hug St. James. We went up a short flight of stone stairs into a small brightly lit and golden canopied room. A statue of St. James, with a hard metal cape encrusted in jewels, looked away from the line of people passing behind his back. We each gave him a hug (for luck) before descending the steps on the other side. More stairs led down into the dimly lit crypt, where a small, silver casket glimmered in the light - the final resting place of St. James.
The adjacent cathedral museum was now open, so we bought tickets and went inside (get a discount with a student id). The first room was the reliquary, which took the shape of a huge wooden alter full of relics. An room adjacent to the library was off limits, however after a few minutes, the doors swung open, and a dozen clergymen left the room, complete with long black flowing capes. After they had all left, the lady guarding the door let us in. The room appeared to be a meeting room, with benches all around the outside. There was nothing particularly special about the room, but it was interesting to see how the church continues to function today.
We continued through the cloisters, where the original, and very cracked, bells from the tower are on display. Up the stairs where there were artifacts, including a huge banner from Lepanto, tapestries and art. A door at the top of the stairs was cracked open, and a museum attendant let us out onto the balcony. The blustery weather continued from the day before. The first wave was windy and rainy so the plaza below was clear, with most of the tourists huddled under the arcades. The next wave came a few minutes later bringing sun that glimmered off the wet stones around us. We spent a long time on the balcony, basically alone and sheltered from the rain, watching the people move below.
The market in Praza de Abastos was housed in several rows of granite stone buildings. Despite all the meat and seafood stands, it was very clean and fresh smelling. Outside the main bread and meat shops, stalls sold fresh flowers and vegetables.
A man with a cart offered freshly cooked pulpo (octopus), which he was boiling in a copper pot. He hooked an octopus from the pot and used scissors to cut pieces onto a wooden plate. The pieces were lightly spiced and salted and then stabbed with toothpicks. We walked under a cover to eat the tender meat and were instantly targets for advice from the ladies who were selling cheese and eggs. They told us we needed cheese and bread with our pulpo, but we couldn’t buy small quantities of either. We tasted the homemade tetilla cheese, which was light and creamy. With shrugs of apologies for our lack of etiquette, we finished our snack and returned the plate. We went back to the baker who couldn’t sell us less than a loaf of bread and bought fresh apple muffins.
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