Thus, for the Filipino, most of whom bear surnames you would find in a Spanish telephone directory, traveling to Spain is more than just a photo-op – it’s climbing down the family tree, past the top soil, and down to the deep part of the earth where the roots curl and cling to the rocks. Whether or not you have family left in Spain and even if you don’t have a trace of Julio Iglesias or Penelope Cruz in your features anymore, traveling to Spain is a must if you want to see the mold from where you came. It took Magellan almost two years on a galleon from the Spanish port city of Sevilla to reach these islands. On a KLM Boeing 737 via Amsterdam, it took my husband Eduardo and me not more than 16 hours to travel virtually the same distance, almost turbulence-free, from Manila to Madrid, with in-flight entertainment that made the hours pass by quickly. (KLM flies to Europe from Manila daily. For inquiries, call 887-1144.) On our way back, it only took 12 hours from Amsterdam’s Schipol to Manila!
For Magellan, discovering the east must have been awesome. The victory of his discovery must have been as sweet as the Philippine mango, but unfortunately for him, it was short-lived.
Discovering Spain and Portugal – two countries that changed every Filipino’s destiny and DNA – was also awesome for this 21st century traveler in search of Mango (the brand, not the fruit) and turrones alicante. My most startling discovery – Filipinos may prefer Broadway to the zarzuela and most don’t speak Spanish, only when they curse, but intrinsically, Filipinos are more like the Spanish than any other nationality on this earth, I kid thee not.
Except for pancit and lumpia, virtually all the food served on the Filipino table is Spanish in origin. We share the same religion (though church attendance has dropped to seven to 12 percent in Spain and gay marriages are allowed); we have the same "God will take care of tomorrow" attitude. We love fiestas (this May, there is a fiesta in almost every town in Spain) and once two holidays fall one day apart, the government declares the sandwich day (in Spain they call it "fuente" or bridge) a holiday. Pinoy na Pinoy di ba?
From the paintings in the Prado, including one of the world’s most famous (Las Meninas by Velasquez and Goya’s Maja Desnuda to the glorious frescoes by Luca Giordano and I thought Giordano was just a label on my favorite crew-neck shirts) at the Palacio Real (Royal Palace), visual art by the masters is so readily available in Spain. This feeds the soul, and inspires people to do great things (like discover America and the Philippines, as the heirs of Columbus and Magellan might say?).
All over Spain you will see cathedrals that look like palaces and are as big as football stadiums – and why not, for they took centuries to build. Do not miss the cathedrals in Segovia (once occupied by the Romans) and the cathedral in Seville, which is the third largest in the world, and whose bell tower was once the minaret of a mosque (the Giralda). To get to the top of the Giralda, which has a magnificent view of the city, you have to go up 34 floors that have no steps, just like a winding driveway that curls up to heaven (apparently, this was once used by horse carriages to reach the top of the tower).
Visit the Mezquita in Cordoba and your heart will yearn for world peace and religious tolerance. The Mezquita is a fusion – it was first built as a mosque in 785 and was transformed into a Catholic church in 1523. It took 250 years for the renovations to be completed, but even after all that work, the interiors have the haunting beauty of a mosque. I think it is the world’s only "mestiza" church. One day, when both Christians and Muslims can pray side by side in the Mezquita, I will say, heaven must be found in Cordoba (a truly charming city with narrow winding roads and houses with patios and fountains).
In Escorial, just outside Madrid, where King Philip II (after whom the Philippines was named )and the legendary royal playboy Don Juan are buried, you will see in one place how the royals like to make sure there is splendor where they live, love, and where they rest (in peace).
But the highlight of my discovery of Portugal was our visit to Fatima, where we saw the chapel built near the oak tree where Mary appeared in 1917 to the three children, Lucia, Jacinta and Francisco. Beside the chapel, a basilica was built and surrounding both the basilica and the chapel is a square that is bigger than St. Peter’s Square – it can accommodate over one million pilgrims.
"Mission accomplished!" Lola Gomez, an 81-year-old Filipino-Canadian who made the trip all the way from Toronto to Fatima, said, after visiting the shrine.
In the depths of my heart (tears sprang unbidden to my eyes as I stepped into the chapel), I know that though all the man-made splendor of Spain and Portugal took my breath away, it was the peace I felt in Fatima that I will always cherish.
Truly, the best trips are those where you discover new places, and in the process, discover what is most meaningful to you.