El concierto: sobresaliente; la organización: suspenso!

Well, we set off on our “pilgrimage” to Santiago on Sunday. Navigating Vigo’s one-way system was fun but soon we were on the highway and off to the city of Saint James. There we checked into our hotel, glad to have booked in advance several weeks ago as the phone at reception rang several times as we stood there. No, they had no free rooms. Yes, there was a possibility of some becoming available later if there were cancellations. No, the hotel did not have a waiting list. Yes, they understood the problem but .....

We found out about transport to the Monte do Gozo auditorium at the tourist office and after lunch got ourselves organised to catch one of the Especial Concierto buses from the city centre. Once there we had a trek up the hill with about a million other people – well, all right, tens of thousands more like but a lot of people. (At the same time, apparently, even more people were marching through the centre of Vigo. The newspaper El Faro de Vigo on Monday morning reported some 300 000 faithful marching to show their devotion to El Cristo de la Victoria in what was described as one of the greatest demonstrations of Christian faith in recent years.)

We had been impressed with the transport arrangements but at that point all organisation seemed to break down. There were a number of queues to get into the venue. A friendly policewoman recommended we should go further up the hill to entrance three. Loads of people were at entrance one, she told us, and the queues should be shorter at the other entrances so we should get in sooner. She may have been right but with people joining queues at random points along the way what system there was soon fell apart even further.

The mostly Spanish crowd accepted all this with equanimity and good humour. Makeshift stalls along the way sold water, drinks of all kinds, sandwiches, churros and the inevitable packs of doughnuts. Impromptu picnics took place at the roadside. It was not until well after the promised gate-opening time of 8.00 that people began to whistle and protest and even then it was very good-natured. The weather helped: cool, occasionally breezy but above all dry.

Some people had been there since 4.00 on the promise that the first 1000 people would be allowed in at 6.30. Fat chance! We had arrived at around 6.30 and finally somewhere after 9.00 we started to move and slowly, slowly advanced until we went through a gate, across a field and eventually through a mud patch to have our tickets checked in a most desultory fashion. I heard complaints later about people getting in on photocopied tickets!

Once inside, in the fading light we tried to make our way through the crowd to a space that we could see where we hoped to get a decent view. There was no evidence of any kind of stewards to direct people and do some kind of crowd control. The terrain sloped steeply; people were pushing; people were frustrated; the situation was downright dangerous.

At last we reached our objective, a fairly high point opposite the stage, tiny in the distance, midway between the huge screens and where the sound balance was probably going to be right and where it was not too crowded. It turned out to be perfect. Once the band came on stage, it took no more than a few bars to make us forget the frustrations of getting in.

The concert opened with the E Street Band’s accordionist playing a Gallego song O Ranxeiro. We were among the few who did not know the words but the crowd went wild and sang their hearts out. Mr Springsteen is a canny showman who does his research. In Bilbao he opened with an old Bilbao song, De Santurce a Bilbao. In Glasgow it was a good Scottish ballad. Not for nothing do they call him The Boss. When O Xefe greeted the Santiago audience with Boas Noites, he won the gallego hearts all over again.

There then followed a good three and a bit hours of music and enthusiastic response. We danced and waved with the best. Numbers from his latest album Working on a Dream were intermingled with older favourites often in response to request from the crowd. As the night wore on, Bruce became more rather than less energetic, if that is possible.

Two small girls have stories to dine out on for the rest of their lives. One got to sing solo to “Waiting for a sunny day”. Instead of the crowd, that one little girl sang alone, a little hesitant but still there. Big cheers from the audience! Later, another was chosen to repeat Courtney Cox’s Dancing in the Dark spot, up on stage, dancing with Bruce. A whole lot of showmanship but still magical.

All good things have to come to an end. We sang our way through Twist and Shout, which almost turned into La Bamba. Born in the USA was finished. The stage lights went out at last and the floodlights came on. The band disappeared and the roadies set about dismantling things.

38 000 people had to get back to Santiago city centre. We walked for what seemed like miles through a dark field and out onto the road. A fleet of Especial Concierto buses was waiting. We were impressed ... and then they seemed to set off leaving most of the crowd to wait for ages and ages and ages until they returned again and again and again, shuttling people away.

This was fine except that the buses were loading from another queue as well as from ours. And once again people joined the queue at random points, many at the beginning instead of the end. Many people set off walking but it seemed to us a risky enterprise in the unfamiliar outlying districts of a city we did not know that well.

Many buses later, we managed to get on one, packed like sardines while the one in front of ours was half empty. But by then we were past caring and so was everyone else. Anyway, most people were still talking music. Really we just wanted to get back to the centre and see if we could find some food and drink. A good fish and chip shop was what we needed.

By now it was 3.00 am and we were not hopeful. Even for Spain this was late for Sunday night-Monday morning. However, so many people had the same idea that a couple of places were still serving. And so we ended up at the Alameda Cafe eating huevos fritos con chorizo washed down with cold beer in a room almost certainly full of Springsteen fans. And finally back to the hotel and bed.

On Monday morning we all got up late and had breakfast in the city centre, keeping an eye out for Bruce and the E Street Band or any other celebrities. None showed, although there were lots of Springsteen tee-shirts around.

Scanning the papers, I found that most agreed with us: this had been a masterpiece of Spanish disorganisation. By Tuesday, some 150 people had made denuncios, many wanting their money back as they had watched the concert from the hill behind the venue or crushed up against the toilet block. One paper assessed it along the lines of Spanish school reports - Concierto sobresaliente (outstanding) organización suspenso (failed)!

Mind you, I suspect we all might do it again!