Santo Domingo de la Calzada: Not The Jewel In The Crown

Leaving Haro behind on a Saturday morning, we head not in the direction of our next stay but instead the opposite way, in order to enjoy one last visit to the village of Laguardia. Like Sajazarra, Laguardia is on the official “bonitos” list of the prettiest villages in Spain, and if anywhere deserves such an accreditation it’s this perfect little place nestled on its hill. It really is lovely.

Our next move is not a huge one as we stay within La Rioja region, now in a different location from which to explore the other half of the province. Santo Domingo de la Calzada is a significant point on the famous Camino de Santiago Compostela, a resting point for pilgrims and hikers for centuries – in fact, this ancient town owes its very existence to the pilgrims’ route.

In the 11th century, a hermit named Dominic, later to be St Dominic (Santo Domingo) made his home by the river here in order to help pilgrims passing by en route to Compostela – first chapels and then a town grew up around him. Monasteries and convents were relocated here to augment the level of care for those pilgrims, growing the town poco a poco. Today the Camino passes through the heart of town, past the large cathedral and its splendid free standing bell tower and past the famous pilgrims’ inn (Albergue de Peregrinos) which still serves the purpose which its name suggests, to this day.

Within the cathedral, at an elevated level, is a glass showcase incongruously housing a live rooster and a live hen strutting around a few feet above the pews; the same pairing features on the town’s coat of arms, all the result of a legend surrounding Saint Dominic. Having resurrected from death a pilgrim who had been sentenced to hang after being wrongly accused of theft, the Saint then faced a sceptical magistrate who doubted he possessed such miraculous powers. Dominic, in order to demonstrate said powers, resurrected the baked rooster and hen which the magistrate was about to devour for his dinner. That taught him. Imagine the chaos if it’d been paella.

Of the millions who undertake the task of completing the Camino (kudos and respect to those of our blogging friends who have done so), their motivation can be for a multitude of reasons, but of course for many it is a deeply religious experience. With this town being such an intrinsic part of the Camino’s history, it’s therefore just a little odd to come out of the revered cathedral and find rock ballads being piped around town – the likes of REM and Stevie Nicks serenading the devout, the pilgrims and the hikers in equal measure. If at any point we hear Errol Brown churning out “I Believe In Miracles”, then we will know that someone somewhere is having a laugh. 

Those brave souls tackling the camino and overnighting in Santo Domingo are fairly obvious: if they’re not limping to dinner in flip flops or even barefoot despite the chilly air, they’re dipping sore feet in the cold waters of fountains and waiting for the pain to subside. We find ourselves feeling for every one of them and wholeheartedly hoping they reach their goal. 

Here in Santo Domingo we are staying in what was once one of those convents, now converted into part hotel, part church and part exhibition hall. The hotel section is, like another in town, a state owned “parador” – paradors are usually heritage buildings such as monasteries preserved by Government by such conversion, making them interesting and evocative places to stay. This parador is just such a place, reasonably priced apart from the crazy 18 euros per person which they want for breakfast when we’re getting a more than adequate one for less than 4 euros each just down the street.

If we’re honest, Santo Domingo de la Calzada is pretty dull. Away from the old town, which you can walk in its entirety in about ten minutes, there is little of interest and the place is nowhere near as attractive as the other places we’ve visited. Apartment blocks easily outnumber ancient buildings and we imagine that those pilgrims on the Camino are fairly content to get up and move on straight after breakfast.

In complete contrast the nearby town of Ezcaray is absolutely lovely, with a whole network of characterful streets, beautiful old houses and inviting restaurants, as well as a relaxing riverfront walk popular with strollers and sun worshippers alike. Just as we’re falling out of love with Santo Domingo, we discover Ezcaray and immediately have a bout of location envy. Our lack of enthusiasm for Domingo isn’t helped by its apparent micro climate which sees grey skies and cool air last until around midday, the sun only making an appearance in the afternoon. Evenings are breezily cool too.

No matter how early in the morning we push ourselves out of the parador and along the chilly main drag, there’s invariably already somebody on the alcohol. Next to that family sinking croissants and downing café con leche, there’s a couple of old boys with an Estrella Damm; waiters darting out with breakfast trays place glasses of Rioja Crianza before eager ladies without batting an eyelid. When I see such things back home, usually outside a Wetherspoons, I benevolently picture that the imbibers have just finished a gruelling night shift. It’s hard to have quite such generous thoughts here, it’s more just a way of life.

Our final road trip out of “Domingo” takes us southwards towards the edge of the Sierra del Pradilla, to another pilgrimage town, San Millan de la Cogolla. Here the landscape sees the Rioja vineyards exchanged for golden wheat and barley fields, crops already harvested and the bare stalks crisping in the hot sun. Pine and deciduous trees clad the rolling hills in a variety of greens creating delightfully different scenery.

San Millan de la Cogolla is home to two famed monasteries with the slightly quirky names of Yuso and Suso. The former, Yuso, is a huge rambling complex which, architecturally, forms a grand focal point within the pleasing landscape and dominates the bottom of the valley in which it sits. We can only visit the interior by joining an official tour group, and unfortunately the entire hour long tour is in Spanish, a shame because consequently we learn little, apart from its claim that Yuso is the birthplace of the Spanish language itself. It’s a fabulous place though, regardless.

Suso is much smaller, way up the side of the valley: we opt to walk rather than cop out with the shuttle bus and enjoy a really pleasant ramble through the forests, the smell of hot pines in our nostrils for the first time in a couple of weeks. We meet not a single human, but come face to face with a young fox who seems momentarily startled by our presence before scampering off into the undergrowth.

From here we drive to Baños de Rio Tobia, which sounds attractive but is as industrial as anywhere we’ve seen in La Rioja. From the 10-storey building sporting giant letters “SASA JAMONES” and the concrete pigs at the entrance to the town, we deduce that this is a place which turns live animals into succulent dinners – in fact a little bit of research tells us it’s a renowned source of quality chorizo. 

After Baños de la Tobia the undulating road brings us to Badaran, where the whole town seems to be out celebrating – the lunchtime drink and tapas is well underway and for some it’s probably advisable to be heading for that siesta bed  pretty soon. There’s a reason for the revelry: today is August 15th, the Virgin Mary’s Day Of Assumption and posters around town tell us that these guys are on Day 3 of a 7-day fest. It’s also a national holiday throughout Spain today.

The chatty guy behind the bar in Badaran is seriously amused that two Brits have bowled up in his bar in the middle of the fiesta and falls over himself in his attempt to cobble together two glasses of Ambar and a plate of patatas bravas. He screws his face up and searches the depths of his memory to come up with some English:

“Nice to meet you”, he finally blurts, and looks so, so pleased with himself. Smiles all round.

Returning to Santo Domingo via a back door road, the town’s own industrial side is obvious from this angle: it’s not wine here, it’s not even chorizo…it’s potatoes. Dozens of lorries are parked up for the holiday, stacks of crates form a mini Manhattan skyline and giant posters tell us that these are the best spuds in Spain. 

For us now, La Rioja is done and we’re moving on. In truth we’re not overly concerned about leaving Santo Domingo behind, although the Rioja region as a whole has been terrific. Without doubt we’re ready for a move now, a change of scene is needed. It’s time to hit the coast.