Chapter 8: Revised

Writing in Microsoft Word is like being released into a candy shop. Or listening to a great CD. How the Hell have I been writing in Word Perfect and staying sane? Maybe I was like was one of those guys in Plato's "cave", just looking at shadows and accepting it. Now that I've seen the light, ah, it's like a new day!

Hmm, okay, that's dramatic, but it's pretty bitching to have Word up in my life.

So, here, we finally have the tour of the last half of the mission. Good to know the lay of the land, since we're gonna be chilling here for most of the story. Revisiting the structure of a church/cathedral has been like a walk down memory lane. I remember learning cathedral architecture in art history and being absolutely fascinated by it. The very shape of them is a cross, and the nave faces east (and therefore sunrise), and there is a whole theological philosophy behind why they are the way they are.

Narthex can also be likened to a vestibule, the first chamber a congregant enters before entering the nave. Sometimes, the narthex proceeds an arcade. These can line the nave's aisle or serve as an opening to the narthex. However, any succession of archways is known as an arcade. Pulpit and lectern are traditionally at the top of the nave, with the choir in the chancel. The chancel will typically terminate into the apse, which is any semi-dome/dome shaped cap. Sacristy is where you'll find vestments and other things used for services.

It made sense to keep this a church instead of a cathedral, simple, and built primarily of a mixture of stone and wood instead of just quarried stone. This cut down on time and the demands of their resources. These missionaries knew they had a successful mission on their hands, wanted their house of God up as quickly as possible. I liked the idea of Alvarelo's and Leoncio's church starting as a canopy and some support beams, and now it is what Nieve is describing in her latest letter to her brother, built quickly to accommodate their growing flock.

Old school Fransiscan mission. Western fascade with a north vestibule (possibly buttress, not flying), and an arcade at the entrance.

I also wanted the church to resemble a tree, reflecting the wildlife around the mission itself. The transepts would be like branches, the nave like a thick trunk, and the buttresses like roots. The design of the overall mission was based on a cathedral I had visited in England when I was a child. I want to say it was Westminster, but this feels wrong. In any case, I remember visiting a cathedral, leaving through one of the transepts, and entering a courtyard. I learned that this courtyard was the heart of the cathedral's cloisters and refectory. The image was a wonderful one, very warm and inviting, and I wanted the mission to have that same feeling.

An ambulatory. Typically, ambulatories were hallways for visitors and other monks to pass through to avoid disrupting meditating monks.

Other cool terms you will probably encounter up in this chapter are:

Refectory: Also known as a "fratery", this is your basic dining hall.

Cloister: Basically, a courtyard, usually surrounding by arcades and ambulatories.

Crossing: Where the transepts meet at the nave.

8

Dear Adan,

Even when removed from his jungle, Padre Alvarelo proved quite the entertaining guide. Then again, should I have marked myself as surprised? He had built this mission with his own hands; the walls had soaked in his sermons as much as those in attendance. The jungle was his home, but this mission - in the middle of such wilderness - was his destiny. Here was a man at a place in his life he had dreamed of reaching. I wondered: Would I be much the same once I was an anchoress?

We explored the church first. There were a few monks passing through on their way to perform their own personal tasks. Some were seated, heads bowed in meditation. The building itself was simple; the stained glass was also far from boastful, which I liked. Not too detailed, but the colors swam with the daylight, and I felt serene, I felt in God’s home. The nave and transepts - save for one, it was crumbled, and covered by a temporary roof to prevent the weather from attending mass as well! - met in a crossing capped by the squat dome I had seen outside. The simplicity was matched by a modest beauty, for when I looked into the concave belly of the dome, I found it painted; images of a Tairona man’s journey to salvation, all the while guided by our own patron saint. He was born in the jungle, guided by St. Francis through the wilderness, and at times he had to resist temptation, only to reach epiphany, and at the end of the circle he died tranquilly. I was moved, but before I could comment, we were on our way! We left through the south transept, and entered an ambulatory that took us into the south wing of the mission.

We poked our heads into a library, populated with shelves buckling under the weight of tomes and ledgers. I could only guess that they were brought over from the Yucatan and from Spain herself. Though I would not be surprised if Alvarelo or any of the other monks I had seen back in the nave had copied and illustrated their own tomes. We continued our tour.

We went down the ambulatory, a cloister was off to our left, flanked by the north wing's own ambulatory. The dormitory building we entered was quite large, with many hallways intersecting one another. Padre Alvarelo informed us that this was where we would stay, but instead of stopping we re-entered the cloister, and crossed for the north wing. On our right, at the top east end of the cloister, was a laundry house. Padre Alvarelo waved to three Tairona women entering the laundry house before we entered the north wing. Here, there was a large pantry with beer, spices, fruits, vegetables, and salted meat, and behind that was a buzzing apiary. Past this pantry were halls and chambers reserved for meditation and reading. A few more monks were here, but not many. I noticed that most of them were Tairona. I was so ecstatic that the place was feeling more and more like home.

We finished our walk down the north ambulatory, which ended at a large linen drape. Beyond this were the ruins of the north transept. Padre Alvarelo explained that when the north transept succumbed to the weather, it took the end of this ambulatory with it. So, we moved aside the drape that served as the temporary door, and skirted the gutted north transept. The rubble from the cave-in had been cleared, now all that remained was the temporary roof Alvarelo had indicated to us earlier. We found a converted Tairona monk, flanked by Tairona workers, surveying the dilapidated façade. Not wanting to disturb their meeting, we decided to take a path leading away from all the broken stone and splintered wood, and reached another humble building, capped by a smoking chimney. Padre Alvarelo stopped as we made our way, and took in a deep breath through his nose.

“Ah, now, do you smell that?”

Carmen and I exchanged a look. We both took a deep breath through our noses like the padre had done, and our senses were met by a strong bouquet of spices I could hardly recognize. Still, they smelt lovely and different. I also detected meat, yes, roasting meat, and… was that fruit cooking with it? The changing overture of these savory and sweet notes left me dreamy and starving.

“Heavenly,” Carmen remarked, it was the only word to describe the aroma.

“This way,” Alvarelo curled his fore finger back and forth; he bid us to follow him into what had to be the kitchen. It was only a little larger than the infirmary. “Now, that,” he indicated a longer, more narrow building connected to this one, “is where we will take our meals, but this is where it all happens.”

We went inside.

There were pots hanging like abandoned beehives from the ceiling, alongside dried herbs and more of the peppers I had seen back at the port. Fruit colored the room, and there was what looked like a boar roasting in a crackling fire. The skin was sparkling and smooth like a ruby, my mouth was watering appreciatively. Amidst all of these meats, fruits, vegetables, and tools were more Tairona, and three monks, each of them with different jobs. One of them making loaves and flat breads, another tending to the rotating roast, and a third slicing and cooking the skinned, pitted fruits and vegetables. “If you ever need anything, do not feel shy.” Padre Alvarelo looked happy just to be here, and we could not help but feel his same sense of elation.

“Do not listen to this man!” A big man came through a swinging door across the room. “He is a liar and a buffoon and he over-salts his suppers,” he laughed boisterously. He was one of the missionaries. His homespun robe was simple; the sleeves were rolled up from a pair of large arms, the skin of which was decorated with the occasional shiny scar. Some were big, others little, some wide, most skinny.

Padre Alvarelo fought him off playfully, but the big missionary had our guide locked in his arms. He was messing with his hair, and giggling like a little boy. His cheeks were rosy, and he had a gold piercing through his nostril much like some of the Tairona men had back at the bottom of the hill. He did not look or sound Tairona though. Carmen and I were chuckling, but we still felt out of place and a little shy. The rest of the kitchen workers were grinning. They shook their heads, and “tisked” the loud man.

“Enough, enough!” Padre Alvarelo freed himself, and caught his breath. “This is Ludwig, our cook. He came here with Padre Leoncio. One night he undercooked a batch of rice, and, well, he has been,” Padre Alvarelo was interrupted by himself as he fended off another goofy assault from Ludwig, “he has been our cook ever since!”

“What have we here?” Ludwig smiled.

“Oh,” Carmen started, “I am Hermana Carmen.”

“Hermana Nieve,” I nodded.

Padre Alvarelo waved his hand to us as if presenting two works of fine art. “The hermanas from Seville.”

Ludwig’s eyes sparkled with abrupt awareness. “Oh, that is right!”

“Here to teach our Tairona children.”

“Yes, yes, I had heard you were coming.”

Carmen said: “It is a pleasure to be here.”

“Ah, yes, you say that now, but good luck to you, hermana! These little whips are trouble,” he hooked his thumb toward some of the children working in the kitchen, and they stuck their tongues out at him. A mother adjacent to one struck him on the back of his head, and he grumbled into his work. “Maybe you can teach ‘em a few manners too, eh?”

We could only giggle. Ludwig was a rather large personality in a rather giant man; his thunderous behavior would take some getting used to. Padre Alvarelo politely excused our party, and we crossed from the kitchen into what could only be the refectory. There were more soldiers here. They were playing a game, and laughing loudly. They, like the Tairona, were dressed in the attire I recognized from Spain, as well as indigenous threads I had seen thus far. They were hastily silent upon seeing us, and watched us closely as we passed; I felt a blush bloom across my cheeks, and kept close to Carmen and Padre Alvarelo.

“Come, I will show you where you two will be staying,” Padre Alvarelo bid us to follow him out of the refectory, back across the cloister's green lawn, and into the dormitories. Every chamber fit with the next like a puzzle, I was amazed to know that it really did not take the missionaries and Tairona long to build it.

“Well, once they arrived, the soldiers were keen to help us,” our guide chuckled at this observation. “Life can be cozy out here; you can imagine that for men of war it can also be rather dull. The building gave them something to do, had their blood pumping again, staved off any idleness.” I could hear a sort of breathlessness in the padre. He had been moving and speaking faster than the wind since our arrival. That he had lasted this long without bracing his hands on his knees or requesting a pause for water was just as captivating as anything else here. He was just like you when you were a child, Adan. Remember when you would build sandcastles and tug on mother’s skirts until she came to investigate?

“Our presence is appreciated here; there is no need to impose further on these people. You should rethink this.”

There were voices in the hall. I could only make out what was being said, but not who was speaking. Padre Alvarelo had not seemed to notice, that, or he was pretending not to catch scent of the conversation.

“Think? There is nothing left to think or talk about. I meet with the bishop and general in the Yucatan within the week.”

“We need you here.”

The hall we traveled intersected with another corridor, where we could have continued left or right. If I went left, I would be heading back to the cloister again. If I turned right, I would be following Carmen and Padre Alvarelo, but the voices were not coming from that way. I broke away from the tour and escaped on tiptoes to satiate my curiosity.

The first voice was speaking again. “You do not need all of us. The Tairona trust you at this point. We can go further now, further than before.”

Near the entrance to the courtyard was a cracked open door. The voices leaked from this narrow crevice. I slowly crept up to the doorway and peered in carefully. I saw the source of the argument in a plain looking study. One was a priest like Padre Alvarelo, only much older, and his expression was stern and stubborn. “This is not a strictly military matter, Captain Alejandro, and I would appreciate your candor in the future. Instead, I hear it from one of your subordinates”

Captain Alejandro?

“Yes, I read it all in the letter last night. Alvarelo made his opinion quite clear at dinner as well, so allow me to make my opinion clearer.” Yes! It was him. I recognized the unshaved jaw line and cheeks. Those eyes were set in a determined glare, and he gnashed his teeth as he spoke. “You will take my word, or I will take my men.”

I noticed the priest was watching me. His eyes found me instantly, and every inch of that stare was more like a demanding yell. I started away from the door. Before Captain Alejandro could face me, I shot off down the corridor like a bullet. I hurried after Padre Alvarelo and Carmen, tried to retrace their path from the last place I saw them. They had reached the other end and taken one final turn. I arrived just as Padre Alvarelo officially finished the tour. His back was to Carmen and he was fiddling with a ring of keys in front of a door.

“...And you will find your rooms here. Now, where is that key?”

Padre Alvarelo may not have discerned my disappearance, but there was no escaping Carmen’s awareness. She snagged my arm. “Where have you been?” Carmen mouthed.

“Ah! There we are. Now, these quarters are not much, but I am sure you will find them to your liking,” said Padre Alvarelo.

I could only stare at her with my mouth agape; I had nothing to say. I flinched from her probing stare. She only averted this gaze as Padre Alvarelo faced us once more. A smile was poured across her otherwise tense lips, and she managed to save us a good deal of humiliation by covering for my suddenly somber look.

“Padre Alvarelo, I am sure these will be perfect quarters for me and Hermana Nieve. We really do appreciate your hospitality, but I am afraid I should have Nieve lay down. After last night,” I winced, of course she had to resurface that, “and then the ride this morning, and the journey… well, you understand.”

Padre Alvarelo produced the key for us. “I understand completely, Carmen. You must be tired, both of you,” he nodded, except an uneasy look was floated my way. He recovered with that same enigmatic smile. “Supper will be in a couple hours. You will hear the bell at the top of the church sound when meals are ready, as well as services. Just like home.”

“Thank you, Padre.” Carmen bobbed.

“Thank you,” I murmured. Padre Alvarelo did not know it, but he left me alone with a very livid Carmen. She turned the key around in her hand experimentally, released my arm abruptly, and unbolted the door to our room. Following her inside would be much like Daniel’s stride through the lion’s den. Only, I was not sure I would prove as successful as he. Still, I followed Carmen inside.