Art and Philippine flora at the Paseo de los Filipinos in Valladolid, Spain

It could be the frequent mention of my mother of Dr. Garcia from Villadolid (yes, a change in the vowel) in Negros Occidental who would do house calls in his motorbike to check on my grandfather who lived in the next town, Pulupandan. Or it could be the stories about the Convent of the Filipino Agustinians in Valladolid, with an interesting Oriental Museum, that spurred us to visit this place northwest of Madrid.
 
Valladolid gained fame in 1469 when Isabel I of Castile and Fernando II of Aragón celebrated their wedding in its cathedral. They were the Catholic monarchs who unified Spain and defeated the Muslims, and for some time Valladolid became the capital of the whole country. Its university too, gained fame, and many students from around the world came to study in its halls. Noted Spanish writers Quevedo and Cervantes lived and worked here, and there was even a Casa de Cervantes to honor the famed Spanish writer. Christopher Columbus, it was said, lived and died in Valladolid. 
 
My husband Alex and I went down at the Estación del Norte (although it is really south of the city), a beautiful train station with lofty ceilings and tall, arched doors. Emerging from it, we were immediately struck by the greenness of the city. Thick hedges, well-trimmed grass lawns, and trees lined the roads. There was an air of quiet and tranquility, as we slowly walked towards the Plaza Mayor.
 
Several fountains along the way added a refreshing feel to the air, as water danced and sparkled under the bright sun. After about 15 minutes we reached the Plaza Mayor. Its wide, rectangular space was enclosed by almost identical three-story antique-red buildings with large windows and balconies. They reminded me of another Plaza Mayor, the one in Madrid.


 
Indeed, the one in Valladolid became the template for the many plaza mayores, not only in the capital city, but in other places as well. The ayuntamiento, or the City Hall, was white with tall columns, and at the center was the tall Torre del Reloj (Clock Tower) with its loggias, turrets, and the large timepiece. A bronze statue of Conde Pedro Ansúrez stood regally on a high pyramidal pedestal with slim pillars, his left hand holding the founding constitution of the city, and on his right, a pennant with the military insignia of Castille.
 
A short walk away, along Calle de Arribas, was the Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción (Cathedral of our Lady of Holy Assumption), built in 1668. Our guidebook said it was initially designed by Juan Herrera, but after funds ran out (and the national capital moved to Madrid) the work was taken up in the later centuries by different architects. What resulted was a sprawling edifice made up of different styles. In one of the towers was an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Upon entering, we gasped at the massive square pillars holding up colossal arches, seemingly reaching the skies.
 
Inside the cathedral was the Museo Diocesano y Catedralicio (Diocesan and Cathedral Museum) with many chapels dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary and other saints. In the Chapel of San Lorenzo for example, shielded by a lofty vaulted dome decorated with geometric, heraldic blue tiles, a 13th century sarcophagus was seen, surrounded by life-sized images of Jesus and Mary in their recessed niches. It was said that the museum contained 450 pieces of paintings, sculptures made of polychrome, metal, precious gems and ivory.
 
One of these, which made us pause, was the Ecce Homo (1612-1615) of Gregorio Fernández. The life-like and life-sized statue on a pedestal had Jesus standing, naked except for a loin cloth, his arms folded over his chest; his weight was on his right leg, with his face turned to the right. His hair was matted with sweat and blood, and his back was filled with whip lashes, blood spurting out. He had a woven whip made of knotted strings dangling from his arms with the handle enfolded in his chest.
 
But it was the expression on his face that was most arresting: Blood from a forehead wound (and most probably from the crown of thorns) dripped down to his eyes and cheeks, his eyelids drooping with weariness; his eyes were directed heavenwards as if in supplication, his lips half open in agony. How human He seemed in His suffering! And how apt to have remembered this during the Holy Week. We felt it was one of the unforgettable artworks in the museum.   
 
Going out of the cathedral, we started walking again, passing by old-world buildings and more fountains. We marvelled at the breathtaking, baroque façade of the University of Valladolid, with its tall columns, intricate carvings, and allegorical statues representing the various faculties and sciences, like Medicine, Philosophy, Letters, and others. The highest frontispiece was the lady Wisdom, stepping on a dead Ignorance.
 
We also found the Casa de Cervantes, which was regrettably closed at that time. The whole building was made up of five adjoined houses; lush climbing vines covered the walls, and the property was surrounded by a large well-tended garden with a beautiful fountain. Now a museum, it offered monthly literary readings and a yearly homage to the great Spanish writer every 23rd of April, his death anniversary.


 
Before going to Spain we promised ourselves not to miss the Convento de los Filipinos Agustinos, a formation place for Agustinian missionaries coming to the Philippines. Having graduated from the University of San Agustin in Iloilo City, it was a pilgrimage, so to speak, to finally see the place where many Spanish Agustinian friends studied and worked before they were sent to our country. We were surprised to see its address: Paseo de los Filipinos, written in large white letters against a green background along the very street.
 
Before the convent though, we noticed a quiet church beside it, and to our surprise, it was called the Iglesia de San Juan de Letrán, a name not at all unfamiliar, because of the eponymous school we have in Intramuros. We found out that it was established by Fr. Hernando de Dios in 1550 as an asylum for the poor and the infirm. The seal of King Carlos I was emblazoned in stone on its façade, together with carvings of leaves, flowers, angels and trophies. Two large bulbous pillars arrested the eyes, and on top was an image of St. John the Baptist, enclosed in a pedestal with engraved pillars and a covered dome, flanked by statues representing Faith and Charity. In recent years it had become the chapel for a group of religious sisters.
 
The Convento de los Agustinos Filipinos itself had a long history. As early as 1732, Agustinian missionaries in Manila suggested a seminary mainly for those who were destined to leave for the Philippines. Pope Clement XII gave his blessings for this seminary, and in 1743, with the royal edict of King Felipe V, Valladolid was chosen for the site, because of its number of promising students. The seminary, built in 1759, was a huge stone and brick edifice. One’s eyes however couldn’t help but be riveted to the statue at the top center: a familiar statue of the Sto. Niño! The bell towers at both sides balanced the visual effect, and the large circular building behind them was the church itself, with round windows to let in light.
 
Within the convent was the Museo Oriental (Oriental Museum), founded in 1874, which had more than 14 rooms of Chinese and Filipino art, said to be the best collection of art from the Far East in Spain. In this museum too, was the Flora de Filipinas, a book by Fr. Francisco Manuel Blanco, OSA, an Agustinian friar and botanist (1778 – 1845) who did an extensive study of Philippine flora. His book described and classified about 1,200 herbal species, and won the prestigious Prize of Honor for Science in the Amsterdam World Exposition in 1883. The book also contained 447 beautiful colored artwork done by Filipino aritists.
 
Indeed, in this small corner of Valladolid, Spain, a part of the Philippines remained. Moreover, I did not know then that a few years after the visit, one of the book’s colorful illustrations, an orchid named Clitoria plumieri, would grace the cover of my book on perimenopause. Speak of things coming around, indeed! – YA, GMA News
 
Alice M. Sun-Cua is a poet and a practicing obstetrician-gynecologist.