San Juan Capistrano

One of the loveliest days we've spent here was at San Juan Capistrano. One of 21 missions established in the Golden State by priests from Mexico and Spain who wanted to spread Christianity and social work to native Americans, this particular one was built in 1776. The original stone church is not much more than a heap of rubble with an arch here and there, but the rest of the grounds are in remarkably good (and undoubtedly restored) condition.

Part of the fun of any destination is the getting there, and this trip proved true to that. The Amtrack Pacific Surf Liner was a straight, clean, and stress-free shot to Orange County -- plus, it inexplicably reminded me of the Barbie United Friendship airplane I played with in the mid-1970s (which I should have kept, as it would go for about 70 bucks today on eBay). There's something about items fitting nicely into compartments, including humans, that give me a sense of everything being right side up.

I confidently speak for Matt when I say that our favorite part of the mission was the gardens. Rather than the show-stopping roses we see everywhere in southern California, this courtyard is filled with flowers and trees in much gentler, quieter foliage, perhaps in keeping with an atmosphere of meditation. I don't know what all the plants are -- just that I loved the whites, lavenders, and soft greens, as did the hummingbirds and bees solemnly filling their bellies.

For many decades, the mission was a working and self-supporting monastery.  It was way cool to check out the original olive millstone and wine press. If the little informational sign is correct, this mission produced the first wine made in California. We don't drink wine. But we do like firsts.

We spent quite a lot of time sitting in a pew in Serra Chapel. The ceiling is gorgeously fresco-painted in a tile and vine motif. The dozens of little statues of saints crammed into various niches and alcoves are kind of creepy. The dark, red candles flickering in their carved metal trays moved me, as they always do when I am in a house of worship. We lit two in memory of our dads.

The little town of San Juan Capistrano reminded me a great deal of Mt. Dora, right down to the kitschy gardening and tea shops. We had brunch at the a seriously over-priced Ramos House (well, on the patio of the Ramos House to be exact): one menu, one price, take-it-or-leave-it (we took it). The owner was grumpy, the patrons over-dressed, and the food rich. Or maybe the patrons were rich, and the food was over-dressed?  We snuggled. We chuckled. And we happily filled our bellies.

Nice day.