Entry #2

Adan!

We have arrived in one piece, we are in the port of Santa Marta. I must have been so obnoxious this morning. I ran to Carmen’s cabin as soon as I was dressed and literally barged my way in. My, was she surprised by how tightly I embraced her!

“You’re much stronger than my brothers for such a little thing.”

“Carmen, we’re here. Can you believe this?”

“Be still, sister, you are far too loud!”

“We must go on deck - Hurry! Hurry!”

“Yes, yes. Go on without me, Nieve.” Carmen laughed. “I will be there when I have finished packing!”

My feet had developed their own impulses. At that moment, they took off, carrying me with them. We raced through the galley, and climbed the stairs two at a time for the deck. Passengers were gathered along the edge of the ship, gasping and cooing in a mixture of relief and exuberance upon finally catching sight of the destination that had been teasing us, hiding behind the horizon for months. Behind the gathered crowd, the crew was bustling to prepare the ship for docking. Their feet slapped across the deck in a hurried rhythm, and whistles pierced their commands from the low deck, to the highest rigging. The last time the ship was this crowded and active, Adan, we were leaving for Santa Marta. Now? Here we are!

The smell of the day’s previous storm was in the air, wet and so refreshing. The storm had dented the humidity, and the sun burned warmly on the back of my neck. The port was bathed in a welcoming light, and was so appealing it took clenching my hands around the parapet to keep from leaping into the turquoise water to reach the white shore. This was no longer a dream induced by the rocking in my cabin; my eyes were open and truly seeing Santa Marta. In a matter of moments, we would be anchored and bound to this place.

The plank hit the deck, and I was off like a shooting star, only this time dragging Carmen with me. She held her coif close to her head, her skirts billowing behind her like a sail - can you imagine your sister, Adan, bearing such speed? But I did that morning, and I was not about to let up.

“Hermana Nieve, you are possessed. Slow down!”

I turned, marching backwards much to her chagrin, as I spoke excitedly. “This is remarkable. Carmen, don’t you realize?” Carmen latched onto my shoulders, guiding me around fishermen, soldiers, and other tradesmen. “We are half way around the world. The world! In your whole life, Carmen, did you ever think you would be here?”

“Nieve, please, look where you are going.”

I spun back around, and managed to skip over a length of rope coiled high. A group of fishermen snickered and smiled. They went back to sharing cigarettes after I waved. Carmen rolled her eyes and linked arms with me.

“If I don’t keep a hold of you, my suddenly so sprightly sister, I am afraid you will take off into the very jungle.”

I chuckled. “Perhaps it is for the best then. I will try to contain myself.”

We entered the busy port. Oh, Adan, you would have loved it here! There was so much food. There was conch cooked in hot oil with plantains, and I could smell coconut milk in almost everything we passed. Women were selling long strands of beads, and there were men with such dark skin holding up wood carvings of creatures and masks. Others offered us pink and cream colored shells, and still others unfurled tapestries along their arms to blow their colors in the wind. They drew so close to us, trying to sell their goods, that they made Carmen flush and press on quickly with me in tow. She pulled out a copy of the charge we had received from our church back in Spain.

“Where are we supposed to be heading again?”

“You could not have forgotten how to read on our trip,” I teased, and she pinched my side as she set to reading.

“We are to meet at the Santa Marta cathedral close to the dock. A missionary will be there.” Carmen fanned herself with the letter. Her face was bright red, and there was an uneven line of perspiration that had soaked through her coif. “We should find him quickly.”

We walked around the port only a little while longer until we found a modest looking cathedral. The walls were tall and white, the windows narrow and painted. A bell was tolling the hour above our heads in beautiful, low tons that bellowed across the bustling port. Carmen pushed open the heavy door, and had to catch me by the wrist to pull me in. I just could not help myself - I wanted to stay outside, despite how hot the morning was.

The wooden door sighed shut behind our heels. Inside, we could see just how detailed those painted windows were. One panel boasted a serene Virgin Mary painted in deep blues, pure whites, and strong reds. Her face was glowing and charming. What a sight to see her smiling so benevolently on us from the still glass. I felt as if she were welcoming me. Carmen and I crossed ourselves, and knelt in the nave beneath the feet of a tall, wood carved savior.

Carmen prayed for us both. “Dear Lord. Bless you for our swift and safe delivery, and bless us with your guidance, your strength, and your kindness.”

We said, “Amen,” together and stood after crossing again.

“Excuse me.” The voice met our backs meekly, as if a mouse had uttered the polite interjection. We turned to find a gentle, young man standing in the aisle. His smile was hospitable, his cheeks and neck shiny with just the slightest sheen of perspiration. He wore a linen tunic with a similar linen stole draped across his left shoulder.

The letter resurfaced from Carmen’s knapsack. She unfolded it with one hand, and peered at the man over the edge of the paper. “Do you know where we could find… Father Victor Alvarelo?”

“Oh, you must be the sisters from the cloister Santa Maria back in Spain. Seville, yes?”

“Yes,” I smiled, and he returned the expression with a sigh of gentle relief.

“Father Alvarelo heard from the dock master yesterday that you would be delayed, and took lodgings not too far from here. I can take you to him now, if you’ll just follow me.”

Carmen and I nodded. “Thank you,” she said as the hushed deacon led us from the cathedral.

We were brought into a dimly lit tavern. The room was layered with drifting curtains of smoke, and some of the most bizarre and tantalizing smells were coming out of a bright kitchen. There were soldiers sitting around a game of cards, nursing cups of coffee. Patrons were huddled over the bar, muttering with the bartender, and there was a cook at the far end of the room napping with a book folded on his chest. Upon our entrance, all eyes were on us, the new strangers shadowing the bright faced deacon. After they had soaked in our presence, they returned to their present occupancies. Flipping cards on the table, continuing their whispered conversations with the bartender, the chef abandoning his book to check on something in the kitchen before returning to continue his nap.

I saw a hand rise, a small, smoking reed pinched between the forefinger and middle finger. A tall and lean looking man stood. The deacon gasped with recognition, waved, and gestured for us to follow him around patrons and tables. I had a clear view of the man now. He was young, but still older than the deacon escorting us, I think. His skin was darkly tanned. A thin beard framed the length of his jaw, and climbed into a head of unruly hair somehow tamed by a wide-brimmed, old leather hat. He was wrapped in a loose linen cassock. A stole, much like the deacon’s, was wrapped around his hip, and a wooden rosary looped around his left wrist. He turned from us to stamp out his hand-rolled tobacco, and met us with a beaming smile. He removed the hat, held the garment over his heart, and nodded.

“You are the sisters sent from Spain.” It was as if he could not believe we were standing in front of him. He was very spirited. His smile would have been as bright as the candles stationed in dusty lanterns on the tables, only this delighted expression never flickered or wavered, and as such shone brighter than those little flames surrounding us.

“I am so happy you have come to us. We have been looking forward to your arrival, and I must confess,” his honey brown eyes darted away sheepishly, “you could not have come at a better time.”

“We are blessed to be here, Father Alvarelo,” Carmen was beaming, and how could one blame her? He studied our faces, pleased with Carmen’s answer, and his smile seemed to grow upon looking into my eyes.

“Well, my dear sisters,” his arms opened welcomingly, “would you like to see the mission?”