TIME TRAVEL INTO THE PAST & SUMMERY TAPAS
When the email arrived with the invitation from Orange County Chapter of the American Pilgrims on the Camino to a joint get-together with the Los Angeles chapter, in a private home in La Crescenta-Flintridge, a lovely suburb, I was excited, and also nervous. Although I was a native Angeleno, I had been away for years and nowadays I hardly ever mustered the emotional stamina to get on the congested freeway to go west out of the Inland Empire, with its sprawling, anonymous bedroom towns east of Los Angeles, to drive into the big city.
When I did drive west to head towards the beach, it always felt like I was going through a portal to adventure. I usually turned south for the beaches, shopping and restaurants in Orange County. Today, I turned north. This event sounded like it would be worth it.
After my initial introduction to the American Pilgrims on the Camino when I attended the annual national conference in Santa Barbara, a few months before, I was delighted to find that I could join a local chapter in Orange County. I’d enjoyed connecting with the group the previous month. That meeting was specifically an Orientation and Training for Newbies. This month we were meeting with the Los Angeles chapter for the usual format. We each were to bring a tapa, the traditional Spanish appetizer, to share and we’d spend the afternoon getting acquainted, sharing our love of the Camino.
Memories of Old-time Los Angeles
Since it was Saturday and the traffic wasn’t heavy, I found myself reminiscing about my early childhood in Glendale, the town between Hollywood on the west and Pasadena, of Rose Parade fame on the east. My reflections went further back. My paternal grandparents and great-grandparents arrived there from Kansas and Colorado in the early 1900s. It was fun to think of them being in LA during the early days of Hollywood, with its silent movies and stars like Charlie Chaplin, Mae West, and Greta Garbo. My destination, La Crescenta-Flintridge, was just around the hills on the other side of grandparents’ Glendale home, where my father had spent his childhood.
I have many lovely memories of seeing the sights with Grandma Sadie, before our family moved to Puerto Rico and during long summer visits back to the States. She had 8 grandchildren and she kept us moving all over from one adventure to another. She knew directions to everything like the back of her hand. She thought nothing of taking us into downtown LA to buy us shoes or finding her way down a little road through orange groves to get us to Disneyland on opening day.
I never once picked up on any anxiety as she smoothly sailed from one freeway to another, even in heavy traffic. As the traffic today grew more intense, I realized that I was clenching the wheel and scarcely breathing. I slowed down my breath and imagined I was breathing in the calm she always showed on our adventures. I found my way to La Crescenta-Flintridge, located in a heavily wooded ravine, and some of my loveliest memories flooded back.
A Magical Shaded Canyon
I hadn’t thought of this place for years, but now I remembered Grandma Sadie taking me to this secluded, shady canyon to visit the magical Descanso Gardens. As the memories surfaced, they started in my body, with a sense of mystery and awe and fragrant aromas. Next, came visuals of immense towering ferns, camelias, roses and lilacs. I remembered the Japanese Gardens and Enchanted Forest, that felt like a “Secret Garden.” I treasured these times with her.
Eager to see where our hostess, Paulette, lived, I made my way down a small, wooded street lined with beautiful homes. I knew nothing about her, other than she walked the Camino the previous year.. I turned into a long driveway and over a bridge across a bubbling stream and my breath was taken away at the sight.
The home was a large manor, gracious and understated. I loved how it was surrounded by forests of oak and sycamore, so quiet and secluded. How could this sanctuary be only 20 minutes from the congestion of downtown LA? Enthralled, I wondered who Paulette was and how she could live in this special, magical area. I felt like I was invading her privacy but still quickly took a couple of photos to show my parents.
Gracious Home and Gracious Hostess
Paulette greeted me with a warm hug and led me down a hallway, lined with rooms. I quickly glanced into a small, inviting room lined with law books, an Oriental rug on the floor. An imposing, yet elegant wood desk and chair stood in the center. I had just enough time to catch the name on the nameplate. I knew who it was immediately, having seen the attorney many times on national TV being interviewed about the high-profile cases he was known for. He seemed very intense and driven and I wouldn’t have pictured him living in this genteel home with such a peaceful energy.
Entering the spacious, light kitchen, Paulette turned to me, seeing that I was carrying a cooking sheet loaded with a pastry, she asked, “At what temperature should I set the oven? What about the timer?” If I’d had any idea I would be walking into the kitchen of someone so renowned, I wouldn’t have had the nerve to bring a dish that had to bake in their oven. I would have brought a tapa that could be served at room temperature and inconspicuously set on the table.
With two chapters meeting today, twice as many women were chatting away as at the last meeting and again, half were dressed as if they could start on the Camino from out the door and the others looked like Bohemian world travelers, dressed in flowing layers, in deep colors like paprika, indigo and warm gold. Eclectic beads hung around their necks. I enjoyed listening to them telling about their previous Caminos, while others shared their plans to walk in the fall, like me. The high energy in the room made me feel even more eager to get started, I still had twelve weeks for mine to begin.
Everyone listened with curiosity when Paulette recounted her Camino. She had walked it in a “down to earth” way like the rest of us, with no van accompanying her to retreat for a nap or to be rescued out of a rough spot. She didn’t have a helicopter on call to lift her up and fly her to a spa and a massage, like she easily could have. As I listened to her, I realized that she had walked as simply as the rest of us, wanting the full pilgrim’s experience. . . impressive.
Summer Tapas Spread
She urged us toward the large spread on the table. As one would find at any Spanish tapas bar, half of them were hot, and the others were either cold or room temperature. Attuned to the warmer season, the selection was lighter, with seafood and salads replacing the sausages and lamb appetizers at the last meeting.
The medieval town of Santiago, Spain, is located in the province of Galicia which has over a thousand mile of coastline, being bordered on the west by the Atlantic Ocean and on the north by the Cantabrian Sea. So, seafood is abundant there and varies from shrimp to octopus, squid, eels and even barnacles. The scallop is the foundation of the signature tapa, the well-known Coquille St. Jacques. Jacques is the French version of James.
My dish was the classic Galician Tuna Empanada (Recipe below), a large portion of puff pastry, lined with Serrano ham and filled with a mixture of tuna, onion, green peppers and hard-boiled eggs. Others brought Garlic Shrimp with Red Peppers and Wild Mushrooms, Grilled Squid in Red Wine, Herb-Marinated Mussels and Scallops with Cava and Saffron Sauce.
On the long drive back, I pondered my experience of the flavors of the tapas, the intriguing women and conversations, and thought of again of Paulette. I marveled at her pleasant spirit. She didn’t show any sign of anxiety, just calm and presence. I became aware that I was feeling a dull ache deep inside and wondered why, when it had all been so enjoyable.
Reflections on Loss of Home and My Connection with Nature
I knew that the event had brought back flashes of the lovely home I had to move out of with my divorce 27 years in the past. From seeing Paulette’s husband on the news, I figured that he was a driven, complicated man. My ex-husband was too. But she was able to hang in there and have a lovely life. I envied that and wished I had been more resilient. Then, another voice within me gently said, “Her husband must be a kinder man than yours was,” and I remembered running into the husband of a friend ten years after my divorce. He exclaimed, “Vicki, you look much younger than you did last time I saw you.” That reassured me that I had truly needed to leave the marriage, no matter the connected losses.
Yes, I did grieve having to move out of my dream home, but the pain I was feeling went deeper than that. The hour and a half drive provided plenty of time for inner reflection. An enchanting memory bubbling up gave me the clue. I took a deep breath of relief as it dawned on me. I had an image of Fern Dell, the enchanting, shady, quiet glen within the huge Griffith Zoo and Park in Los Angeles that I’d loved so much every time I stepped on the trail.
I realized that the deep emotions stirred up were not about the house, but its environment, surrounded by nature, yet so close to the big city. That was what I missed the most about having to leave my home in a wooded neighborhood. As I reviewed my wonderful child-centered travels with Grandma Sadie, it was clear that our experiences at Fern Dell and Descanso Gardens had affected me most deeply.
My Magical Childhood Immersed in Nature on the Caribbean Island of Puerto Rico.
Everyday during my childhood, I’d experience at least a few of the powerful elements of nature, both physically and emotionally. Living on a small island, the sea was close in every direction. I loved lying on the warm white sand and feeling the of pounding, majestic waves throughout my entire body. My family and I loved exploring the tide pools with all the sea creatures, like starfish and sea urchins. During hurricane season, we’d run out to let the wind blow us down. From the balcony of our house, perched on a hillside, at night I watched immense flames in valleys below, when the stubble was set on fire at the end of the sugarcane harvest. I’d lost all of this when my parents moved our family to cold, dry Denver, Colorado when I was twelve.
I thought of all the pilgrims who mentioned that their reason for walking the Camino was to heal their bodies and their spirits, often from a loss, and I was very relieved to know that I would be on the Camino in just 3 months. I had seen many photos along the path and I knew that as I walked for 42 days, again I would be immersed in and regain my deep bodily sense of God through nature. I could hardly wait.