Bucket List: Santiago
I have wanted to walk El Camino since I first heard about the one thousand year old pilgrimage twenty five years ago.
California was celebrating its 150-year old birthday in 1998 when Aunt Elaine asked me to write a colorful fact sheet about the Californio Dons and Doña’s ranchero lifestyle of the early to mid 1800s. I fell down the rabbit hole of research, because these Californios were our fascinating ancestors. I scoured the shelves of the Santa Ana library private collection to find journal entries written by the land and sea captains in 1760/70s, read all the plaques for the Early California exhibit of family heirlooms at the Bowers Museum, and read rare books and an encyclopedias where I saw a picture of the ruins of a family castle built in 900 AD.
The Jorba Castle is near Monserrat where the Black Madonna has been encased since 800 AD (sources vary). Many people pilgrimage to see the Black Madonna and the other Spanish pilgrimage was to Santiago de Compostela where St. James is buried. I was enthralled by the deep honor the hosts felt to provide room and board for the pilgrims. These spiritual travelers held an elevated position like wandering monks and their hosts were known for their graciousness, kindness, and open hearts.
With a few crumbs of information, I pieced together a convenient story about my ancestor Jose Antonio Yorba. Cataluyna had lost its sovereignty to Spain fifty years prior to Yorba becoming one of 25 Catalan volunteer soldiers, soldados de cuera or leather jacketed soldiers who wore seven layers of deer hide to protect themselves while they established the presidios and mission system of California. I convinced myself that Yorba had lost his homeland and wanderlust had inspired him. Somewhere I knew I was fooling myself and so I held a tight grip on the Californio’s reputation as magnanimous, generous hosts who would throw you a fandango, give you a horse or gold coins upon your arrival.
Inspired by my ancestors and the hosts of El Camino, I hosted traveling cyclists for five years then opened up an AirBnB in 2017, always striving to be an impeccable hostess with the mostess. In 2019, I pilgrimed to Cataluyna, my ancestral home. Enmeshed in Los Angeles’ water steal from the Eastern Sierra, I poured a small bottle of water on the sand-filled castle turret asking that no one take more than their share. My ritual felt full circle since Yorba had helped to establish the pueblo of Los Angeles in 1781. As I described my ritual to the taxi driver, I realized that Yorba named his rancho in honor of Santiago, the patron saint of Spain, not Jordi, patron saint of Cataluyna. The truth became starkly clear - this ancestor I had once revered had been a religious zealot, a colonizer who was loyal to the Pope and Spain. My idea of our family crashed like a house of cards.
I took this delusion to Monserrat and asked that the Black Madonna fill my hollowed heart with her living Spirit. Then, I experienced a shamanic sickness, purging and cleansing as I drove home from the airport. Once in bed, I floated in and out of consciousness for three days while I read new information that Yorba had been part of the Spanish invasion of Portugal as well. Ever since I have been consciously releasing all my manipulative tendencies, accepting people as they are, not who I want them to be, and listening carefully and protecting what uplifts me.
My mom says that Spain is like the Aries, bold and rash, whereas Portugal is the Pisces, heart-centered and poetic. I have wanted to visit Portugal since I was twelve and saw the pictures from my parents’ European vacation. My sister-in-love Cindy and I fly to Lisboa on April 9 and begin walking El Camino on April 12. For 13 days, we will walk the 130 miles to Santiago de Compostela with the help of a travel service that will transport our luggage. Our hotels, trains and planes are books. The bags are packed. I am ready for whatever comes, knowing I will be changed and hoping that I have the courage to be flexible and let go of whatever holds me back from lusciously, honestly living this one beautiful life I’ve got.
