Antequera and me
I've just written an email inviting several more cousins to participate in this blog. It feels amazing. You know, since my parents split up, I always sort of felt like I wasn't a real part of the Castro/Vigallon family. We were the girls from Back East. Reconnecting with some of you, even if it's just via email, really means a lot to me. There's something intensely personal about genealogy for me--I think finding out about the folks who lived before me, and without whom I would not exist, gives me clues for working out bits about who I am.
I wanted to tell you one of my favorite genealogy stories. About ten years ago, I was living in Barcelona, and I decided to go down South to seek out my relatives. Barcelona folks are very family oriented and they were always asking me what I was doing away from my family (in the US) and if I had any relatives in Andalusia. I decided it was time to find out. A friend and I took the train down and got off in Antequera, where I knew Grandma Concha and Papa Vigallon had been baptized. We found a cheap little hostal and dropped off our bags and then went looking for the San Pedro church. It turned out to be just around the corner:
San Pedro Church, Antequera, Spain
We went in and I asked if we could see the old archives. They brought out an old book, about 20 inches high and 14 inches wide. We quickly found the baptism record for Grandma Concha, born October 7, 1888. The first surprise was that the person who performed the baptism turned out to be the grandson of the pastor who was helping me look up the records. But as we read on, I got an even more incredible surprise. Grandma Concha's address was listed as Calle Toril, 3 which turned out to be the same address as the little hostal where my friend and I were staying! I could hardly believe it.
After copying down as much information as I could (Grandma Concha's parents' and grandparents' names), my friend and I went back to the hostal and asked the owner if he would show us around. To be honest, there was not a lot to see. It had a pretty inner patio, as many houses in that area have, but the rooms had been modernized. Still, it was amazing to me to imagine my own great-grandmother being born in this place. The owner said that it had been a posada at the turn of the century--just a little inn, perhaps for migrant farm workers? I've always wondered how they ended up there.
Pensión Toril (according to the Let's Go guide), where Grandma Concha was born
Later that day as I wondered around Antequera, every woman's face reminded me of the Vigallon sisters. It felt like I had cousins on every doorstep. I'd always felt drawn to Spain, now I felt almost as if I belonged there.
I wanted to tell you one of my favorite genealogy stories. About ten years ago, I was living in Barcelona, and I decided to go down South to seek out my relatives. Barcelona folks are very family oriented and they were always asking me what I was doing away from my family (in the US) and if I had any relatives in Andalusia. I decided it was time to find out. A friend and I took the train down and got off in Antequera, where I knew Grandma Concha and Papa Vigallon had been baptized. We found a cheap little hostal and dropped off our bags and then went looking for the San Pedro church. It turned out to be just around the corner:
San Pedro Church, Antequera, Spain
We went in and I asked if we could see the old archives. They brought out an old book, about 20 inches high and 14 inches wide. We quickly found the baptism record for Grandma Concha, born October 7, 1888. The first surprise was that the person who performed the baptism turned out to be the grandson of the pastor who was helping me look up the records. But as we read on, I got an even more incredible surprise. Grandma Concha's address was listed as Calle Toril, 3 which turned out to be the same address as the little hostal where my friend and I were staying! I could hardly believe it.
After copying down as much information as I could (Grandma Concha's parents' and grandparents' names), my friend and I went back to the hostal and asked the owner if he would show us around. To be honest, there was not a lot to see. It had a pretty inner patio, as many houses in that area have, but the rooms had been modernized. Still, it was amazing to me to imagine my own great-grandmother being born in this place. The owner said that it had been a posada at the turn of the century--just a little inn, perhaps for migrant farm workers? I've always wondered how they ended up there.
Pensión Toril (according to the Let's Go guide), where Grandma Concha was born
Later that day as I wondered around Antequera, every woman's face reminded me of the Vigallon sisters. It felt like I had cousins on every doorstep. I'd always felt drawn to Spain, now I felt almost as if I belonged there.
2 Comments:
Liz, I just got information about this Blog from Jim Vigallon, so I say Hi to you and all the family. I hope to figure out something of interest to add.....I love reading about the family, and in "our time" your story is priceless! Grandma Concha was a real special person to so many people, and I'm glad to be counted among them. She was real special lady. When she lived in Irvington at my Aunt Josie and Frank Delgado's tank house I had the privilege of passing her house every day going to school. My Spanish wasn't very good, but her peanut butter cookies made me feel right at home! It must be a family thing.... visiting your grandparents, the same thing happened!! I always felt so welcome there, ah, such wonderful memories.
Randy Vigallon
Wow, peanut butter cookies, that's amazing... I would never have thought that a Spanish woman would make peanut butter cookies... really! They're so American. And I know that wasn't exactly the point of your story, but still it tells me that she wasn't so traditional, she didn't only make the things that she knew back in Spain (they don't eat peanut butter there). That's neat that you knew her so well. Tell us more!
love,
Liz
Post a Comment
<< Home