We stayed the morning there, and we ate sandwiches together with the dogs and then Rebecca and I went to play on the large area they call a playground, with see-saws and other things, all separated. It was very roomy. But I won't describe the games we played. I've had a few of those play-kid moments before, and they probably won't be of much interest to you adults who want to learn about the trip and the exciting parts! We went back and got stuff out of the R.V. after playing on the playground, and then left in the jeep.
Mom wanted to go, for she had read in the National Park book they were National Parks, and it seemed interesting to get some more history for Rebecca, who was studying Indians. We got ready to go and then did get ready, and I wore again my cowboy suit. It was Wednesday, the first day of February, and I wanted it to be a good month. The prior month had been good enough, but I wanted this one to be much better. It was Black History Month, the Month of Valentine's Day, Leap Year, and President's Day, among other events. I hoped that this day would be a good kickoff to a great month. I looked at the bikes, and instantly was reminded of the loss of mine the day before, for it had been stolen. I was thinking about that as I was reading a little of A Tramp Abroad, tempted to read my cowboy book I had gotten the day before, which was much more exciting. We drove out of the town of San Antonio, bumping along in the jeep as my feet felt the little area of room passed as a floorboard, going over back roads. The first mission on the 4 mission list, that were moved from East Texas to San Antonio, was Conception with a foreign thing that looks like a leaf supposed to be on it. There was a parking lot in some back road, with some Catholic Academies and schools, little children with uniforms, and brick housing buildings.
This was Conception, which means birth. There was a small National Park building, with a roof over the outside part and a ramp up, with signs all around to not leave important and good things in your vehicle. Needing to go to the restroom we locked the car and came up past a water fountain into the restroom, on the left of this little brick building. Done with the restroom we then went into there, and there was a little gift shop with some things, and Mom got a map book for Julia Poje, the small sister of Westin and Elise. I looked at some Spanish legend and other books about the subject of the Southwest. There was a lady at a counter who was tan and had short grey hair, partially Mexican, I believe. She, somehow, got into a conversation with Dad about the border, of which she said it was not worth it to go to the National Parks so close there, nowadays. Sad. Then, for some unknown reason, she and Dad got to talking about Afghanistan and why the troops were over there. We later walked out and left the lady. I had brought my book, as we came toward this interesting structure, grey in color, pretty, I guess, and positioned so that there was a rectangular part in front of us, and to the left, connected, a part with tower and more tall and singular. We walked along the green grass.
Going through the back, we came into a dark somber room, with grass beneath us. There was a lady in here, and she said she was looking for her 13 year old boy, but he had a phone and liked to drift off. There were a few dials telling information, but no more than a few. This wasn't a key part of the 5 missions. It was only one of them. Turning right out of this room I found myself in an ancient stairwell, with steps going winding up. I could only see the first few, the rest hidden but for the back of it. A stream of sunlight, only a little rays, bled through the barred window. There was another room, and I turned right through the opening, as their were no doors here so far. My family was in front of me, and we were all speculating about the eeriness and everything else, how they must've lived. The best part was the last part, yet to come. The Cathedral had a high ceiling, with all the pipes and organs, and the tapestry, the table with all of the candles and the big pretty cross up over the stuff. Then their were pews, forming only a thin line coming down, and walls separating the other parts. We saw the colorful coats, like Joseph's, and I wondered if they claimed those were the real coat, like some Catholic Churches claim in Italy and around the Middle East. "Original crown of thorns!" "This is the real donkey ear from the Nativity!"
Those were on opposite tables in this wonderful and airy place. Believe it or not, but they actually still do services here, it is a current Parish. Finding it hard to believe? Well, you're eyes will get wider throughout the blog, I must say. But anyway, Rebecca looked at the little contraptions at the bottom of the pew's back, and saw that you pull down this plank or footstool, and pray on it. We had seen it before. In a very small room to the left of this great hall, and was also pretty dark and solemn. The walls were of clay, brick, mud, dirt, adobe, rock, anything they could find that would hold. Mom brought Rebecca over, saying her history was Indians and that she needed to learn about it. The dial explained that the Native Americans did a lot of the building and work for the monks and friars, and that they built garrisons to defend themselves by Indians called the Apache, who would come down from the mountains in raids. We would learn more about this later. For now, we left the second mission (the first being the San Antonio de Valero, or The Alamo) and were going to now go to the main one, the third. Two down, 3 to go. Over more back roads and trails, we were shocked to see many trees, big fields and picnic tables, and a large parking lot. It was a plus from Conception. The name: San Jose.
Mom read in the NPB (National Park Book) that the actual church was closed, for refurbishing, but the museum and all the grounds were open to the American people. We were surprised by how big the building was, with nice glass doors, as we walked on this large concrete patio, with a cross-patch wooden roof making the hot sunlight come down. Inside, there was an open gift shop, with a counter to the very left, and some bathrooms, pretty much everything you would find in any National Park place, the colors of green and brown everywhere, the walls, ceiling, people, and all the merchandise. Of course. They told us that there was a show coming on in about 15 minutes, and so after a while of looking around in the gift shop we reserved a seat there. I also wanted to go to the museum on the right, with all the artifacts and dioramas, but we went into the movie first. We sat down in the fairly big sized room, and very dark and carpeted. The movie was one of the weirdest I've ever seen, starting with a Native American walking around the grounds of the missions, and said all of the people of the different tribes, and as she said them, they were echoed in a whisper of a man, which was really strange. It was all about what they did and the different tribes, talking about how even though they were Christianized, some went back and did their drug, around the campfire, making odd noises. It was the most peculiar and creepy National Park movie ever. No doubt about it.
We went away, and if someone happened to see us they would have taken us for deranged. We looked close to that. The movie was, uh...interesting.... to say the least about it. I mean, it was informational, sure, and told us some good facts about how they worked and lived, with the aqueducts also mentioned, but the whole drugs and evil spirit and whispering thing and "my PEOPLE WALKED THESE HALLS!" and the girl naming it, and all the, "EIEIEIEHD AHAHAHAHAHAHAH" chanting and all turned me off. I would never see it again, especially at night. Shivers.
There was a tour that was also going to go on, and I went to the restroom as my family went out. They were listening to a tan man with black hair, and they were on benches. Dad had gone out first. Well, I wanted to look at a small thing in a museum, and signaled to Mom, who let me. There were a few other people there, as I made my way out, done with learning about the settlers of the West. The man was kind of large, with khakis and a NP hat that was tied around a string. I would later know this man as Danny. He had this woodwind instrument and a pony tail. Tan, looking Native American. I would never know. I wondered what wooden thing was for, the long stick, balancing in his hands. He told us that the Franciscan Monks came here in the 1700's, to make all of the Indians Christians, and he also told us about that we needed sunscreen, sun glasses, to be pretty fit, and other things, to continue the journey from here on. I made a frown, for I had taken the book. And the video camera. But how hard would it be to wander the halls and grounds of an ancient mission. I was glad that I now had my Indiana Jones hat, but I shouldn't of come with this dark blue jacket. It was cold yesterday. But not today. The sun's rays came down on us, as their was a bright blue sky as light as ever it could be. Uh-oh.
We walked along, with this tour in front and a few other people, no kids, of course, just adults. We walked along path, and I caught up with the interesting-looking guide, asking him why he had it. He didn't give me a straight answer though, saying to hit kids with. Throughout the whole tour, I would be really wondering. Sometimes adults just think of kids as....kids. I mean, they think they are all not very smart, and will believe most of what you say, and also that they can't really know anything important. I have proved a few of these sterio-typers wrong, but there are always more. I bet that this man, Danny, he called himself and the name that glittered against the sun on the name tag, was one of those people. We passed under an arched gate that was made of clay, seeing small circular openings in the walls, plus a floor underneath them where the Indians would lay, spotting enemies. It was funny to me that even though the property belonged to the Catholic Church, they had garrisons, guns, cannons, and everything else involved in warfare at that time. But anyhow, we had entered this square or rectangular fort, if you will, and there was grass everywhere, in the field, with little windows and openings in parts of the walls around us. We were closer to the right of this. The mission looked at us, and it looked pretty much like the other one, but as we would approach later, we would see a few distances.
Danny stopped, to tell us that San Jose meant Saint Joseph and that that was the name of this place. So, do you remember a few blogs back when I was wondering what San meant? Well, it was answered when Danny told us that. San Antonio was Saint Antonio, or Saint Anthony. I wondered what Jacinto meant. But there is no time for that now. He also told us that this whole wide area of green grass, little bits of architecture and ruins and bases of little grey rock shacks, would never of been here. It would of all be full of little small buildings, black smiths shops, weaving, carpentry, every kind of handy man imaginable. Well, not a car mechanic. Or an Apple employee. But most of them. Danny told us that they did not just teach the Indians spiritually, but occupationally, culturally, and learning the Spanish language, plus Latin. Danny pointed across this large green space, to another long corridor, saying that this was the Latin School, where they would teach the children from an early age. It didn't seem like the Indians had any choice. Was it for good that they were changed with their clothes and their whole culture? Told to come in and then sent out when they were good spiritually? You decide!
We went right, going under a low roof opening as we went in. I turned on the video camera. We were in a small square room, that had an even smaller opening, where we were in a small room with circular dome, and as everyone filed in, Danny started playing into the music like those people in the movies who make snakes come out of baskets, and the woodwind flute or whatever it was echoed in the small room. The walls were of creamy white something, and there were wooden sticks, fat and cylinder, that were sticking out of the walls, below the dome, with like two levels of that. They weren't taking up the whole space though. Half in half, kind of. Danny stopped shortly after beginning, only stating he was sorry and that he liked to do that tune in here, listen to it's eerie effect; for him it never got old. I looked at those small circular holes, earlier when outside he'd said they were loopholes, and that is where we get the term. He told us that this was a good position looking on the mountains, and that Native Americans would stay in here and watch, with cannons, if anyone was coming. "You can't see it now, but if you're right by that hole, it can actually see a good distance." he stated. I tested this, crouching down by one to my right. He was correct.
Danny had a slight quiet accent and voice, and he was informational and pretty nice, I guess. He told us some interesting things as we got out of the little corner watch station, as they call it. In these two bare rooms of the same wall color, a little dustier, and still dry and musty, Danny explained a family unit was assigned to each room, maybe more, and that mainly it was just a stove, place where they would sit on the ground and eat the food, and the other room of the same sort would be for sleeping. I imagined myself sleeping here, an Indian. No bed, or blankets or pillows. Forced to do all these jobs. Oh well. I might as well say right here: it's good that they made the Indians Christians, but they forced them so some weren't really Christians. But oh well. Done with these few rooms, we passed by all the closed ones, and read some of the dials that explained some other things. There was like one tree, but that was it. Now we were in the right front corner, looking at the church. I asked Danny some questions as others asked that was it all free-range cattle, and Danny said that yes they controlled all the land and their were no fences. There were a few tourists doing a self-tour, and there was another tour at the entrance. A few self-tourists joined our group. Is that allowed? I mean... they didn't pay.
He told us some things as we came in front of the Cathedral, the main part of the Mission, and came to some plants, and a walkway underneath the crosspatch roof, with holes. This was between the outer wall of the garrison and homes, with the other side being the actual cathedral. Mom will show you some pictures which will do it justice better than my vague details will. Danny explained that this was the monks and priests slept and worked, and that a map of this showed it that. He had showed us a sntil now. mall diorama at the entrance and had pointed it out earlier; sorry that I forgot to tell about you about it earlier. Now, he told us some other information, leading us along as I looked at the statues of architecture on the outside of the Cathedral. Then I saw it. It was separated from the actual Cathedral, and was a block of window with all kinds of patterns and symbols on it, ropes making it not able to be accessed to curious tourists who wanted a closer look. The panel in front of it told that maybe it could be a part of the Cathedral dedicated to Rosa, who was a soldier's lost love, but those might be only tales. Danny, surprisingly, didn't stay at this long. Instead, he went ahead, now at the entrance of the cathedral, turning forward, and he stopped, woodwind instrument in hand.
I had by this time taken off my jacket, it hanging now around my waist. It was so hot, and I wished I wasn't wearing the clothing I was now wearing. But Danny began, his black hair and fairly light attire hanging against him like the wind was blowing and that he wasn't hot at all. Must be used to it. We gathered around, and while we came around Danny was blowing on that little instrument. He told us that the end of the guided tour was at an end, but he had a few more things to dictate to us. First, he told us that in the cathedrals and outside of them, they were a meeting place and that one of the ways they taught things to Indians was to show them by symbols. Danny told us that the cherubs meant childlike and guardians, and that some of the pearls and hearts meant to love and a knife without it's hilt, on the left side, meant to forgive bad people. It was all of stone, and barely identifiable, because of the construction platform that was there, held up by it's metal beams, and the different floors of levels. Danny told us that there weren't people up there right now because they were either on break or lunch or something like that, but they usually were, chiseling stuff on and off. He told us stories of people who sculpted an equal small part, after weeks of looking at it and studying it, and then putting it on. He continued down, telling us what the symbols meant.
I obviously can't tell you every single one, but the main ones were Joseph and Mary's grandparents, which symbolised respecting the old and wisdom and stuff. These were small people above the Joseph and Mary, and there was respect your parents and guardianship that was symbolised on their part. A lot of symbolism in the Catholic denomination, I must say. This has to come bold, but it seems that they value those things they can hold in their hand, not just wanting a Faith in a God they can't see. And that's where the Pope comes in. But I am already treading into deep water, where people are about to be offended, so I will stop here. I shouldn't be talking about this. But I must say one thing: that the Roman Catholics were in some cases kind of... uh, forceful, to say the least. For instance, in some parts of Mexico, after killing off some of the Aztecs and then killing others by way of their Old World diseases, the conquistadors read the Word of God and the Terms of Agreement, if you will, from the Catholic Church and the Spanish Government (in their state they were both combined, church and state.) in the Latin language, and of course the Native Americans couldn't understand it. If they refused the offer, gunpowder and led in their hearts or head, buried in a mass grave somewhere in Southern Mexico. Yeah.
But changing the subject. He told us all of the symbols, and some of them made sense and were really smart, one of those things where you don't see that it makes sense until it is shown to you. After Danny told us some final interesting facts, he said he liked to end with that the Native Americans had a rich culture and that the Catholic took it away, but made the people Christians. He told us for us to decide if it was right or wrong, as he told us that there were restrooms on the front a little ways away along the wall, and a little alcove by that where they had a map of the world by an Italian in the 1500; and also another diagram showing the symbols of the tapestry. To our very left was a grain place where they would make all the rice and corn, and grain, and out by way of the right way was where they would circle the water and stuff, and process all the grain, and this was the mill. Dad told him before Danny stopped to answer questions to do Amazing Grace a song he had heard Danny do it when we were all inside. He did it on his little woodwind, and boy was it good. We all clapped and he blushed, or I thought he did. You couldn't really see red in his dark cheeks. But later, after some questions we asked him, we all went to go to the restroom. The cathedral was closed... as I had said earlier, for construction. So we didn't go there.
They went to the restroom first, and I held some stuff. They later came back out, and I was looking at the large map in a small alcove, and it was framed with a glass thing over it, and blue and green with off continents. Everything was too wide or fat or small, and Florida was like a thumb, with Asia too short and big, and Europe way off. I don't blame the mapmakers of the time though, I mean, it was all guessing and math and different stuff, there was no Aeriel images back then so it's pretty good on what they have now. Mom took back the camera, taking a picture of this as I went to the restroom. Inside were some urinals on the front wall, with an openings and sink counter that was very damp and wet. I couldn't put my book on that. So, needing to pee really bad, I gave Rebecca the book, leaving it on the water fountain that she was drinking at, behind the cathedral. Then I went, and came back out and took the book. We turned to our left, past the women's restroom and away from the other place Danny had told us about, going toward the mill. We walked down a long way and came to the mill, with some trees and plants around, and a ledge. It was only a little cottage and weeds and water going down a waterfall, with a cylinder turbine going around and circulating the water. Through an opening we saw the room with the stool in the corner and book, with some tubes going down into a machine. There was a lift off, a platform down. I had seen these things before, in Greenfield Village. (Going Back to Greenfield Village.) The Mill.
No National Park person was there. It was weird that they weren't there. We read a few of those grey dials with pictures on them. Back outside, we now saw a lady who was a National Park lady. Blonde and brown hair, curly and kind of short. Nice lady. We all got into a conversation and she told us some places in Oklahoma, her home state. She told us about many resort things, and a few ranches and stuff, and Mom stated we were thinking on going to LBJ's ranch, Lyndon Baines Johnson's, a president who was the successor of JFK, John F. Kennedy. But I will go into more detail of that in another blog. She said that it wasn't a working ranch, and we asked her for one in Oklahoma. For this whole part of the conversation she had been etching her brain, asking for our different interests and trying to satisfy us. She didn't have a lot of ideas, but had some history stuff for us also. As we started to drift away, with Dad and I the closet to this lady, she asked what book I head, if it was Deadwood Dick, a pulp that she read. I showed it to her, stating it was fairly new. She said that maybe it was a modern version of the Deadwood Dick. In reality, as I would find a little time's later, too late, she was right. The lady, in the Author's Note, who wrote the book, said that it was basically just that. But that's for another time also.
She asked me what I thought a classic was, and I said Homer's two books and the Bible, but mainly 1800 stuff. We talked about Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys and walked slowly but surely, way behind the others. We then spoke, as we turned right and came out of the mill area and into the grounds again, talking about why I didn't like Edgar Allen Poe and my friend Henry did. Next, we ended up talking about all sorts of books, and the lady was very nice, but took a long time to answer and rack her brain. She said her name was Barbra. Barbra was very nice and interesting; it was fun to talk with her about books. I said goodbye to her in front of where those priests slept, going under the cross-patch and looking up at the sky. Then I followed Mom and Dad, who were talking to a man who had two two tripods connected to a horizontal line, and a camera was attached. He told Mom and Dad it was a time lapse that would set up and then take pictures, and he would form it into a demo. He went over prices, photographers in the area, and other things that he and my parents, fellow photographers, reminisced about. Good ole times, they said. It was very interesting. The man had brown hair, and I cannot seem to forget how tall he was, and how sweaty he was also. Nice guy. His name is Greg.
As we walked away I felt a bigger need for Mom and Dad to tell me about photography and angles and stuff like that. I wanted to learn the family trade. Boats, the trade for the Bourne side of the family, didn't suit me as I don't like knots and am not a fisherman. But I wanted to see photography, and then either become a cinematographer or movie-maker, with the info I would know from the photo world. We walked on out of the gate, out of San Juan, and I'm glad we went. We got a guided tour which was good, and a lot of info and learned about old times. It was very cool. Mom and Dad told me though to go get some waters in the gift shop, and I went with the money, running. In there I paid a lot more money then I needed to on only the two waters, and got another one and the clerk lady had to go through it again. Thank you for having to put up with that, clerk lady at the National Park. Very kind and patient of you. I ran back out to the car and drank down the ice cold water, then we went off for the remaining two missions. Three down, two left. The only ones left were San Juan and Espada, and we only passed by San Juan, and took some pictures. There wasn't much there to take. But now we passed down to the 5th and final mission of all of them, Espada. The Cathedral of bells.
The other two, Rebecca and Dad, were two tired. I wanted some adventure, personally, so Mom and I entered off the sidewalk with a post telling stuff, and underneath another doorway openings with ruins of walls and such. We read all the dials as we gradually made it toward a National Park Building. Uh oh, now there are two abbreviations to NPB. That's not good. But anyway, at first site as I entered was a cardboard figure, that was of an early pioneer of the area. White and really gave me the freak. I said hello to the lady at the counter in front of us, doors to left to a museum and a little museum to the right. She had a book about dragon tattooed girls or something of the sort. We talked to her, and she settled the weird wondering we had, confirming this parish was open for service, it was just San Jose, the cathedral with Danny, that the church wasn't there. She then went on to explain that she has been to many National Parks before and came here because she saw she had ancestors who were Indians here and went to this cathedral. Young, slender, dark skin and black hair. Nice girl. We left, going to a small cathedral that looked like the Alamo, with bells in square spots. This was Espada. And we walked in.
Well, we tried to, anyhow. A man was taking a picture with a tri-pod, and we now saw that picture-taking was a big thing here in San Antonio, or in all Texas for that matter. We then pulled on the doors, and they barely budged, as we walked into a pewed church, with many signs to be quiet and respectful. Nice place. Very beautiful, the stain glass and the pretty blue thing, it was pretty cool. Well, it was small and we left almost as soon as we came, wishing that the other parts of the family had seen it also. Oh well. Outside, Mom talked to the tan man, who was taking the picture for a green screen. She talked about how Dad had a struggle with making it look real, and said that Hollywood people could do the same, perhaps. We walked away, back in the car. We came, as it was evening and we hadn't gone out in a while, to yet another Mexican Restaurant, and this one was cool, having a lot of popular music and bar and T.V. showing sports, CNN, and other things. We were high over the other patrons, at a table by the edge. It was good food and we had a good waiter. In the restroom though, an oddity appeared. The sink was filled with red and brown rocks. I showed this to Dad when he came in with me another time. I asked one guy and he said they served no purpose; it was just for decoration. By and by after a rich good classic Mexican meal, we left. The end.
I'm glad we went to the Missions though. Really glad.
Just if you didn't know, the 5 missions names are, in this order we saw them, San Antonio de Valero (aka The Alamo); Conception (cool); San Jose (best of them); San Juan (only passed by); and Espada. The latter was kind of interesting, cool to just see it to say. Goodbye for now.
In one of Edgar Allen Poe's stories that Barbra and I talked about, the man relates to the ready about how he got buried alive. I would never want to read that book. Can you imagine that feeling? Being buried alive? Shivers,
Andrew.
No comments:
Post a Comment