Strong regional identities exist in many countries, and that’s definitely true in Spain. Galicia—the northwestern corner of the country, bordered on the north and west by the Atlantic Ocean and on the south by Portugal—is distinctive in many ways. It has its own language, Galego, which resembles a cross between Portuguese and standard (Castilian) Spanish. Roughly half of the people in Galicia speak Galego on a daily basis, and you see it everywhere on signs here along with Castilian. (English comes a distant third.)
Unlike most of the rest of Spain, Galicia gets frequent rainfall throughout the year. As a result, the landscape is much greener than it is farther south. You can see the difference when you fly from Madrid in the center of the country. A long stretch of brown plains suddenly gives way to forested mountains and then green hills rolling down to the ocean.
By far the most famous place in Galicia is the city of Santiago de Compostela, the end point of the various Camino de Santiago pilgrimage trails that crisscross the Iberian Peninsula. After spending a couple of days in Santiago, we rented a car to explore parts of Galicia’s western coast (the Costa da Morte, so named for the many shipwrecks that happened there over the centuries) and its northern coast (the Rias Altas). Along the way, we stayed in the fishing villages of Muros and Muxia and in the beach and fishing town of Cedeira.
The Ireland of Spain
The Galician coast is divided into a series of peninsulas separated by long estuaries, called rias. The landscape between the rias—rocky headlands, high sea cliffs, remote lighthouses, and green fields with grazing livestock—reminded us of the west coast of Ireland.
Galicia has other parallels with Ireland. It grows excellent potatoes—some of the best I’ve ever eaten. A meal isn’t a meal in Galicia without potatoes in some form.
Galicia leans heavily into its Celtic heritage. During the Bronze and Iron Ages, the region was home to a group of Celtic peoples whom the Romans called the Gallaeci. Today, some Galicians believe their wet, green, Atlantic-facing land has more in common with places like Ireland, Wales, and Scotland than with other regions of Spain. You can even hear people playing traditional bagpipes in Galicia (called gaita), a smaller cousin of the famous Highland bagpipes of Scotland.
Because Galicia gets far more wind than sun, it has expanded heavily into wind power. Rows of giant turbines are common sights along the ridges of this hilly region, looming out of the mists and clouds. Their sleek, ultramodern appearance contrasts sharply with the old stone farmhouses that dot the countryside.
Bounties of the Sea
Other than Santiago de Compostela, Galicia gets fewer international visitors than some other parts of Spain. But it’s a popular vacation destination for Spaniards, who flock here to enjoy cooler summer weather, sandy Atlantic beaches, and seafood. Fishing is still a significant industry in Galicia, as is aquaculture. The calm estuaries are good places to farm mussels, oysters, and other shellfish. The rolling hills and valleys of inland Galicia also produce some lovely wine. (The minerally white Albarino is my favorite.)
We’ve been eating lots of very fresh seafood during our time in Galicia, mainly fish and mussels and small scallops called zamburinas. Scallops are so ubiquitous here that it’s no wonder the scallop shell is the traditional emblem of Santiago (Saint James), Galicia’s patron saint.
The most unusual dish we’ve tried is percebes (goose barnacles). They’re pried from rocks at low tide and then boiled in a pot of water with salt and olive oil. We were a bit apprehensive when a plate of rocky barnacles was plopped down in front of us. But we quickly mastered the trick of holding the hard end in one hand, twisting off the black tube with the other hand, and eating the clam-like meat inside. They were better than we expected, which was a good thing because the little restaurant where we had them served nothing else.
Comings and Goings
Although Galicia’s economy is doing fairly well now, that was not always the case. During the last third of the 1800s, for example, more than half a million Galicians emigrated to the Americas, especially to Argentina, Brazil, Mexico, and Cuba. Some of the emigrants were successful enough in the New World that they were able to return home and build grand houses in the latest styles to advertise their new-found wealth. The mansions of those Indianos (people who had been to the Indies) stand out in many towns and villages in coastal Galicia.
So proud are Galicians of their homeland that they have assumed over the centuries that everyone would want to come here. One of our pastimes in Galicia has been finding stories of famous figures in history who supposedly made it to these shores. For instance, legend has it that the city of Pontevedra was founded by the ancient Greek archer Teucer, half-brother of Ajax, who found his way here after the Trojan War. The town of Noia claims an even older founder: Noah’s son Japheth. (The town’s coat of arms features an ark.)
Saint James is believed to have brought Christianity to Galicia around 40 AD, before heading back to Jerusalem to be beheaded by King Herod a few years later. While James was on the Galician coast near the present town of Muxia, the Virgin Mary appeared to him in a stone boat to encourage him. The remains of the boat turned into big rocks that are the site of a 12th- to 18th-century church known as Our Lady of the Boat.
After James’s death, according to legend, his headless body was carried by angels in a boat back to coastal Galicia, where it was encased in stone. It remained hidden until the early 800s, when a holy hermit discovered it and the pilgrimage site of Santiago was born.
Not to be outdone, the tiny village of San Andres de Teixido on the northern coast of Galicia has its own story to draw pilgrims. Legend has it that Saint Andrew the fisherman was shipwrecked on its coast. He escaped, but his inverted boat became a large rock jutting out to sea. While he was marooned, Jesus appeared to him and promised that if he built a church in that wild place, he would have plenty of company because all Christian souls would eventually visit him. Those who didn’t visit San Andres in life would travel there after death, reincarnated in the form of an insect or lizard or similar small animal. Thus, the story goes, you must be very careful not to kill such creatures in San Andres because they may contain the souls of pilgrims.
Luckily, that prohibition doesn’t extend to the goose barnacles that thrive in the cold waters near the village. So we could eat a plate of them in San Andres for lunch.
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