“The Cathedral of Santa Eulalia”

Photo of inside the Cathedral by Ken Kaminesky

You try imagining what the poor girl went through. Thirteen horrific tortures. That is, if the stories are true. If the surviving lines written down in the 29 verses of the Sequence some 1135 years ago are even vaguely accurate. But how could they not be? The Sequence of Santa Eulalia is the earliest surviving piece of French hagiography, written by monks, blessed by God, surviving extant for nearly a millennium about a defiant young girl from the Catalan region of Spain.

How did that list of 13 run? Flesh torn with hooks. Placed in a box with hungry fleas. Tiny breasts sliced off. Or was that before the fleas? Wounds sprinkled with boiling oil. And more. So much more. And yet she did not recant. She had petitioned a Roman governor to be fairer in the treatment of Christians. Apparently the governor did not care to be lectured by a little girl, so he sentenced her to as many gruesome punishments as years she had lived upon the earth.

What was next? Lashes across her back. Put inside a barrel with glass and nails and rolled down the slope behind where the cathedral now stands. Still nothing to recant. How broken she must have been. The warm blood flowing freely, the pain more intense than any child should ever endure. They say women have a higher tolerance for pain than men. The thought passes through your head as you climb the steps towards the cathedral, but this amount of agony goes well beyond the simple definition of the sexes. This is someone chosen by God for His purpose on earth. This is the suffering of a Saint.

Eulalia’s mutilated body was originally interred in the church of Santa Maria de les Arenes (St. Mary of the Sands, now St. Mary of the Sea). She was hidden in 713 during the Moorish Umayyad conquest of Spain, and only recovered in 878. In 1339, she was moved to an alabaster sarcophagus in the crypt of this cathedral where she rests to this day.

In the 14^th century, with heavy construction still in progress, it would have appeared much less impressive than it does on this crisp evening. The towering spires must certainly be sharp to the touch. The pointed archways are layered and decorated ornately down to the finest detail. Based on a recommendation from a friend, you made your visit at sunset. The dipping sun, slowly setting beyond the Muntanyes d’Ordal, lights up the front façade in a spectacular glow of deep reds and burnt oranges. Once inside, gathering reverence from the stillness, lines of the Eulalia hymn flutter quietly from your lips:

. . . Noble of parentage Eulalia

 More noble still in the style of her death . . .

The girl was nailed to an X-cross along what is today the Placa del Pedro in the Raval neighborhood of Barcelona. You notice the “X” symbols carved into each pew you walk past. Again, the thought of her agony nearly overwhelms you as you approach the stairwell. At the bottom of the steps is where you will find her golden tomb. There are other pilgrims here, young and old, having travelled to see their patron Saint, to ask for blessings, seek guidance, find inspiration.

You pay little heed to them as you descend the steps and pause at the edge of the deep red carpet that surrounds her final resting place. Candles surround the vault. A statue of the Savior surveys the scene from above, giving both His blessing and approval.

. . . Counting her torture a boon to herself. . .

The thirteen-year-old Eulalia was executed during the repressive rule of the pious Diocletian (Roman emperor from 284-305 AD), possibly around 304. According the verses, the girl resisted the pagan threats, bribery, and immense torture by Diocletian’s lesser co-emperor of the time, Maximilian. Somehow she even managed to survive immolation at the stake before the Romans finally decided to stop playing games. They decapitated the child by sword, her tiny head falling to the ground like a tossed sandwich wrapper. But God would get the final say in this standoff. It is claimed, after her head was removed, a white dove was spotted escaping from the girl’s lax mouth, ascending to heaven to join her saintly peers.

The Cathedral is humbling. Its full appellation is the Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Santa Eulalia. Construction of this Gothic masterpiece started in 1280 and was not completed until 1420 with a new façade and central tower added by 1913. The delays were due primarily to ongoing civil wars and troublesome bouts of the Black Death. Today the cathedral has become one of the signature stops within the city of Barcelona.

You complete your prayers, end your reflection, and make your way slowly back up the steps, through the chapel, and out the arching doorway. Other patrons are still quietly shuffling in. One tourist is taking pictures and smiling. You think to yourself they probably don’t understand the significance of this place or what it means to the Barcelonese. What the young girl went through to remain true to her faith. But you understand. You try your best to wipe the gruesome images from your mind as you step out into the early evening air of the city’s Gothic Quarter. The bustling traffic of evening is beginning to hum. A hint of the Mediterranean rides on the breeze and your spirits finally begin to lift.

Relief of Eulalia by Bartolomé Ordóñez

California Gold: The Mission Santa Barbara

A somber reminder inside
the Mission.

Santa Barbara is one of the best beach communities in all of California. It has a beautiful harbor, a pleasant downtown area with a good walking score, a thriving wine scene, and it does well to keep in touch with its history, both Spanish and native. While there is a Chumash Reservation not far from the coast and old native cave paintings can be found atop the hills looking over the sea, one of the best collections of native artifacts can be found at the Santa Barbara Mission.

The Mission, sitting on a hill just north of town, was founded by Padre Fermín Lasuén in December of 1786. It is the tenth mission for the religious conversion of the indigenous local Chumash-Barbareño tribe. Many elements of the Mission's extensive water treatment system, all built by Chumash labor under the direction of the Franciscans (including aqueducts, two reservoirs, a filter house, and a hydro-powered gristmill) remain to this day, as do huts, gardening tools, textiles, and trinkets, all hand-crafted by native hands, much of it centuries ago. The reservoir, which was built in 1806 by the expedient of damming a canyon, had been a functioning component of the city's water system until 1993. The original fountain and lavadero are also intact near the entrance to the Mission.

The interior garden and courtyard.

Mission Santa Barbara's name comes from the legend of Saint Barbara, a girl who was supposedly beheaded by her father for following the Christian Faith. The early missionaries built three different chapels during the first few years, each larger than the previous one.

It was only after the great Santa Barbara Earthquake on December 21, 1812, which destroyed the existing buildings, that the construction on the current Mission was begun. It was completed and then dedicated in 1820.

Walkway around the courtyard.

Like many of the California Missions, Santa Barbara has a chapel, a garden courtyard, rooms for study and sleep. Unlike many of the other Missions, Santa Barbara has a natural beauty that even other places in California are jealous of. The flowers seem bigger, brighter. The air smells sweeter. The breeze feels more gentle.

The Mission grounds occupy a rise between the Pacific Ocean and the Santa Ynez Mountains. They were consecrated by Father Fermín Lasuén, who had taken over the presidency of the California mission chain upon the death of Mission founder Father Presidente Junípero Serra. Mission Santa Barbara is the only mission to remain under the leadership of the Franciscan Friars since its founding, and today is still a parish church of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles.

The Mission Santa Barbara

Walking through the exhibits and the active portions of the Mission, I thought of the sad irony that now exists. The irony that that the little we know about the native people who lived on this continent prior to European contact is due primarily to the Europeans themselves who wound up running them off.

It seems native artifacts tend to be best preserved and shared with the rest of the world in places where the native people themselves were actually subjugated. Books, movies, and Mission exhibits all give great insight to native life, but the shame is this desire to learn more about the locals arrived a bit too late.

Inside the chapel.

Santa Barbara has a lot to offer visitors coming in either for a long weekend or a long-term vacation. It can be easy to give in to the surf and wine and air of relaxation. But a stop at the Mission is not to be missed. There is a lot of history on this site and the church is a great place to see a piece of it.

The garden in bloom.

Founder Padre Fermín Lasuén

Interior garden.

Various tools used to build and maintain the Mission.

Example of some of the  beautiful artwork inside the Mission.

The front of the Mission.

The visitors' entrance to the Mission.

One last view of the interior courtyard.

California Gold: Sunshine in Sausalito

Watching the boats on the
Richardson Bay.

"I heard Barry Bonds lives here."
"Probably doesn't actually live here. Probably just has a house."
"Must be nice."

I made a day trip to Sausalito with my parents. We were enjoying the scenery of the boats and harbors on our left and the shops and tree-covered hills to our right. Spectacular houses were nestled imperiously among tall pines and firs. We were only a few miles from downtown San Francisco but we might as well have been halfway down the coast.

Vista Point, Marin County

The quiet town is situated near the northern end of the Golden Gate Bridge. Prior to the building of that bridge the town served as a terminus for rail, car, and ferry traffic. Sausalito was once the site of a Coast Miwok Indian settlement known as Liwanelowa. The branch of the Coast Miwok living in the area were known as the Huimen. Early explorers of the area described the natives as friendly and hospitable. According to Juan de Ayala, "To all these advantages must be added the best of all, which is that the heathen Indians of the port are so faithful in their friendship and so docile in their disposition that I was greatly pleased to receive them on board." A few generations later, the Huimen were gone, displaced by the visitors.

Main strip in Sausalito.

We stopped into a small place for lunch called Fish. They specialize in serving sustainably caught seafood. I sat on the sun-drenched deck looking south across Richardson Bay towards San Francisco, sipping a cold Anchor Steam, watching the boats linger by, believing life could never be better.

The first European known to visit the present-day location of Sausalito was Don José de Cañizares. This was on August 5, 1775. He was head of an advance party dispatched by longboat from the ship San Carlos. The crew of the San Carlos came ashore soon after, reporting friendly natives and teeming populations of deer, elk, bear, sea lions, seals and otters. They also reported an abundance of large, mature timber in the hills, a valuable commodity for shipwrights in need of raw materials for masts and planking. Today the place is filled with expensive houses, delicious seafood restaurants, and charming little candy shops. It's also home to some famous celebrities and sports stars like Barry Bonds.

Looking towards Frisco.

Downtown San Francisco can be a high-speed, cutting edge, bundle of energy for locals and visitors alike. Sausalito, just across the bay, is a completely different story. It's a relaxing port and ebbs along much more slowly than its urban counterpart. Any visit to the Bay Area wouldn't be complete without a pit stop in Marin County in the little harbor town of Sausalito.

The Lone Sailor Memorial in Marin County, just south of Sausalito.

 The statue, a replica of the Lone Sailor in DC, represents a sailor's last view of the West Coast as he sails out for duty at sea.

The plaque reads:
The Lone Sailor 
This is a memorial to everyone who ever sailed out the Golden Gate in the service of their Country – in the Navy, the Marine Corps, the Coast Guard, the Merchant Marine.

A ship heading for sea passes directly by this spot at the northern end of the Golden Gate. Here the Sailor feels the first long roll of the sea, the beginning of the endless horizon that leads to the far Pacific.

There is one last chance to look back at the city of San Francisco, shining on its hills, one last chance to look back at the coastline of the United States, one last chance to look back at home.

Thousands and thousands of American seafarers have sailed past this place, in peace and war, to defend this Country and its sea frontiers. Many of them never returned. This monument is dedicated to the ordinary Sailors and Marines who sailed from this place and did their duty.

Base of the Lone Sailor Memorial.

View of the Golden Gate Bridge from the Vista Point at the Lone Sailor Memorial.

Docked in the harbor of Sausalito.

Pops relaxing with a view of Horseshoe Bay in the background.

Lovely flora of Marin County.

One of boardwalks near the Sausalito Yacht Club.

A water fountain near the center of town.

Tourists in the foreground. Beautiful houses in the distance.

The main drag of Sausalito.

The Vina del Mar Park.

A view of the Richardson Bay.

Outside the Barrel House Tavern restaurant.

Wares in the candy store.

California Gold: Sanrio Fest in Santa Monica

Text and photos by Jason McKenney

The Barker Hangar isn't the most impressive structure on the outside. It has the look of a giant aluminum pipe that's been sawed in half and turned over like an oversized bunker. There are rows of chain-link fence stretching around to demarcate parking and security stations. It's right next to the semi-private (and soon to be erased) Santa Monica airport. But inside the hangar on this day was a colorful, adorable, lovable, overdose of Hello Kitty cuteness. Enough to make the most cynical and coldest of individuals feel a little bit warm on the inside...or maybe enough to throw up depending on your preference.

The kids of some of my best friends are obsessed with Hello Kitty. They buy the clothes, the backpacks, the pencils and folders, t-shirts. The freaked when a new store was opened in the Lakewood Mall. They collect the cards and stickers and hats and candy. When I invited several of these kids out to the latest Sanrio Small Gift Fest in Santa Monica they could barely contain their excitement. Hello Kitty is a devastatingly popular character from Japan. The character actually serves as a great outreach program of Japanese culture to the rest of the world. In places like Los Angeles, that outreach is lapped up by American kids (of various cultural backgrounds) like water drops in the desert.

We entered the hangar to be met with a kaleidoscope of colors, caramel smells, j-pop music, and circus rides. Girls were dressed in cosplay of shiny, short skirts and cat makeup. It was a glorious experience for the young tweens I brought. Jennie and TJ rode the Ferris Wheel. KC and Jared wandered through the art hall and ate ice cream. Joah and Christian played games and drank Ramune.

The kids were dizzy with joy when we finally left. They begged me to bring them again next year. The Sanrio Festival is growing in popularity and touring across the nation in major metropolitan areas. If you have kids in your life and one of these events shows up in a town near you, we highly advise you take them. Go for the kids. Stay for the ice cream. Please don't throw up at the cuteness.

Everyone wins at Small Gift. Jennie and TJ with their own small gifts.

The art exhibitions cover a a wide range of Hello Kitty themes. From bright and colorful to dark and gothic.

Enjoying the art walk display.

Jared poses with the Hello Kitty smart car that could probably fit in his pocket.

My traveling band of explorers, crushing all of Sanrio.