"Soon James, I'll be there soon.. but not this trip!"
Ever since walking the Camino de Santiago across northern Spain in 2012, I have noticed my dear Saint James turning up periodically for a chat. Upon wandering the narrow streets of central Madrid, I discovered myself in a tiny square surrounded by scallop shells and red crosses. As I wandered into the unassuming church of Santiago full of shiny faced icons and electric "candles" I smiled up at my now familiar Saint Jim.
"This trip is not about us, Jim. This time I have come to Spain with friends!"
I arrived in Spain armed not only with my backpack and walking shoes but also with approximately sixty of my friends, confidants, and fellow singers. I have come to Spain with my community.
Under the direction of our fearless leader, Patrick Godon, his horn playing wife and their two cherubic sons, members of the Saint Gregory parish choir and the suburban Tower Chorale have combined to sing a path across Spain, starting in Madrid and wearing a trail through Toledo, Zaragoza, and Alfajarin, before finishing in Barcelona. But we are a lusty group and have every intent of tasting the sweet spanish life along the way...
"Madrid is a new city, only about 300 years old," our tiny task master of a tour guide incorrectly informed our bus full of tired jetlagged pilgrims as we entered the outskirts of a much older Madrid. Her smooth alto voice stretched "s"s to their extreme limits and rolled "rrrr"s for obscene lengths of time, lulling her trapped patrons into a sort of hypnotic trance. Our resident award winning, double Phd holding, spaniard scholar, Carlos, dropped his head to his hands as he unwillingly listened in disbelief.
We take for granted our Maestro, Patrick. He can convey huge amounts of information with just a nod of his head... dynamics, cutoffs, intensity, rhythm, drooping pitch, bliss or severe disapproval...He leads us confidently into the abyss. So, it was with great horror, that we arrived for our first mass of the tour at Catedral de la Almudena to discover that the choir sits one level below and completely out of eye shot of our maestro at the organ, thus requiring a few choir members to temporarily fill his role of director. I stepped up to the podium with great trepidation, my arms raised, my eyes trained above at the back of Patrick's head, the choir in front of me, the splendor and majesty of the royal cathedral at my back, while my internal monologue sang a nonstop litany of, "Oh, dear God on high.. Please don't let me f%@k this up!!!" Moments later, I sat down with jelly knees and relief at not being the cause of a musical train wreck. Following my unexpected, improvised directorial debut, Kim, a beautiful, perfectly dressed, vivacious woman rose from her soprano seat to gracefully direct the next song. 
Situated next to Spain's Royal Palace in Madrid, the Catedral de la Almudena is a massive structure consisting of white marble, contemporary stained glass windows, and a mesmerizing painted ceiling. Despite plans being discussed as early as the 1560s and construction beginning in 1879, due to a few mishaps (such as the Spanish civil war and WWII) the Almudena wasn't completed and consecrated until 1993. La Almudena hosts royal weddings and funerals and is home to an organ almost worth selling one's soul to the devil for (despite it being on a different level from the choir.) And the six second delay.. well, that's just icing on the cake! As our voices blended for the final song "Heyr, Himna Smiour," we bathed in the royal loveliness of the Almudena. "Fancy seeing you here!" As I wandered the Prado museum, my tour guide racing three miles ahead, Saint James winked at me from a dour 17th century Ribera painting while St Roche snort laughed from the canvas beside...
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