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  • Mission San Luis Rey: Where I Learned to Listen to More Than One Story

    After visiting several California missions this year, I finally made my way to Mission San Luis Rey in Oceanside. Often called the “King of the Missions,” it immediately stood out for its impressive size, peaceful gardens, and beautiful architecture. It is one of the largest and most well-preserved missions in California, and walking through its grounds felt like stepping into another century.

    Like my previous mission visits, I came not just to admire the buildings but to understand the people whose lives were forever changed by this place.

    Mission chair: The only remaining piece if original San Luis Rey mission furniture

    Mission San Luis Rey was founded in 1798 by Fr. Fermín Francisco de Lasuén, but it was Fr. Antonio Peyri who transformed it into one of the most successful missions in Alta California. Father Peyri spent more than three decades here, overseeing the construction of many of the buildings that still stand today. He became closely connected with the Native community and, when he was forced to leave after Mexico secularized the missions, many Native people reportedly followed him for miles to say goodbye. It is one of the more emotional stories from California’s mission era.

    The mission was built on the homeland of the Payómkawichum people. Long before Spanish missionaries arrived, they had thriving villages, deep spiritual traditions, and a sophisticated understanding of the land. Visiting the museum reminded me that California’s history did not begin with the missions. The Payómkawichum had already called this place home for countless generations.

    One thing I appreciate about Mission San Luis Rey is that it tells more than just the Spanish story. I learned about Agapito Amamix and Pablo Tac. After my visit, I spent more time reading about him because his story is extraordinary.

    Born at Mission San Luis Rey, he later traveled to Mexico and then to Europe, where he studied for the priesthood. More importantly, he left behind one of the earliest first-hand accounts written by a California Native person. Through his writings, he described the experiences of his people living under the Spanish mission system. Reading Pablo Tac’s words feels different from reading history books because his voice comes directly from someone who lived through that era. It reminded me how valuable first-hand accounts are in helping us understand history beyond official records.

    As I walked through the church, cemetery, and peaceful courtyards, I also learned what happened after the mission period. Following Mexico’s secularization of the missions, Mission San Luis Rey fell into neglect. Many buildings were damaged, valuable materials were removed, and parts of the property deteriorated over the years.

    It was only after the Franciscan Order returned in the late nineteenth century that restoration began. Thanks to generations of Franciscan priests and dedicated preservationists, the mission was gradually brought back to life. Without those restoration efforts, much of what visitors enjoy today might have been lost forever.

    Every California mission I visit teaches me something new. I admire the architecture, the faith, and the remarkable preservation of these historic places. At the same time, I leave with a deeper appreciation for the resilience of California’s Indigenous peoples, whose stories are finally receiving the attention they have always deserved.

  • Mission San Juan Capistrano: The Jewel of the California Missions

    I’ve visited 7 California missions so far, and out of all of them, Mission San Juan Capistrano is easily my favorite.

    I actually visited two other missions—San Diego de Alcalá and San Luis Rey—before coming here. But this place left such an impression on me that I couldn’t wait to write about it and share the photos I took.

    One of the things I love most about Mission San Juan Capistrano is its location. It’s right in the heart of the historic downtown, surrounded by museums, old buildings, restaurants, and charming streets. The entire area feels like an open-air history museum.

    The moment I stepped inside the mission grounds, I immediately felt a sense of peace and calm. The gardens are absolutely stunning, with flowers, fountains, and beautiful courtyards everywhere you look. It’s one of those places where every corner feels picture-perfect and every path leads to another Instagram-worthy view.

    The quadrangle is lined with rooms that have been turned into museums and exhibits. Everything is thoughtfully organized, making it easy to learn about California’s history while also providing quiet spaces for prayer and reflection. Whether you’re a history lover, a photographer, or someone simply looking for a peaceful place to visit, this mission has something for everyone.

    Two places stood out to me the most.

    The first is Serra Church, the oldest church in California that is still in use. Built shortly after the mission was founded in 1776, it was here that Fr. Junípero Serra (Founder of California missions) himself celebrated Mass. Standing inside such a historic place was a special experience.

    Visitors from near and far come to this small chapel of St. Peregrine to offer prayers for people living with HIV/AIDS, cancer, and other incurable illnesses.

    The second is the Great Stone Church Ruins, which completely took my breath away. It’s hard not to imagine how magnificent the church must have looked when it was still standing. Built between 1797 and 1806, it took nine years to complete. The massive stones were carved by local Native Americans and assembled using an ancient limestone-based mortar. Tragically, on December 8, 1812, a powerful 6.9-magnitude earthquake caused the church to collapse during the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, killing 40 people. After taking nearly a decade to build, it was only used for six years.

    A glimpse into the past—the Great Stone Church still stands on the right in this early painting of the mission.
    Founded on November 1, 1776, Mission San Juan Capistrano celebrates its 250th anniversary alongside the 250th anniversary of America’s independence.

    As I walked through the ruins, I couldn’t help but imagine the beauty and grandeur of the church in its prime. It also reminded me of the countless Native people whose labor, craftsmanship, and lives became part of this history. Their contributions deserve to be remembered alongside the beauty of the mission itself.

    Out of the seven missions I’ve visited so far, Mission San Juan Capistrano has been the most memorable. It’s a place where history, faith, architecture, and nature come together beautifully. I already know I’ll be coming back.

    I’M COMING BACK!

  • My California Story Began on the Fourth of July

    My California Story Began on the Fourth of July

    Five years ago, on the Fourth of July, I arrived in California. While fireworks filled the sky, I was beginning a new chapter of my own, not knowing how much my life would change.

    Screenshot
    July 4, 2021 — I spent the entire flight wearing both a face shield and a face mask. https://youtu.be/_2FXRs10Yag?is=H9PZPpjnaTB5VPNe

    If California has taught me anything, it’s that growth comes from stepping outside your comfort zone.

    When I first arrived, I was incredibly shy and lacked confidence. Living in Los Angeles changed that. This city has a way of pushing you to adapt, speak up, and become stronger.

    Driving is the perfect example. I used to be terrified of freeways and would take surface streets whenever I could. Today, I actually prefer driving on the freeway because I find it safer and more predictable. Ironically, I was rear-ended in a car accident earlier this year. It shook me, but it also reminded me that setbacks don’t have to define us.

    April 9, 2026 @ 8:30pm – The date and time I will never forget.

    My relationship with California is complicated. I love its coastline, diversity, road trips, and endless places to explore. At the same time, I don’t love the traffic, the cost of living, or the fast pace. But maybe that’s why I appreciate it so much—the places that challenge us often shape us the most.

    Over the past five years, I’ve also fallen in love with learning. Visiting missions, museums, historic landmarks, and Indigenous sites has given me a much deeper understanding of California. That curiosity led me to explore the history of the United States as well. The more I learn, the more I realize that history is complex, and understanding it has changed the way I see this country.

    Mission San Diego de Alcala

    As a Filipino, I’ve learned that appreciating a place means learning its story, not just admiring its beauty.

    Every Fourth of July now has a special meaning for me. It’s not only America’s Independence Day—it’s also the anniversary of the day my California journey began.

    If I could give one piece of advice to the person who arrived here five years ago, it would be this:

    Keep exploring. Keep asking questions. Keep learning.

    Because in the end, California didn’t just change where I live.

    It changed who I am.

    Happy Fifth California Anniversary. And Happy Fourth of July.

  • Finding History at Mission San Buenaventura

    I left Los Angeles at 8:00 a.m. on a Saturday, hoping to beat the usual traffic. It turned out to be a great decision. The drive to Ventura took only about 1 hour and 10 minutes.

    Before beginning my visit, I stopped by Harbor Cove Café for breakfast. I ordered their breakfast burrito, and it was easily one of the best I’ve ever had. It was the perfect way to start the day before exploring another chapter of California’s history.

    From there, I drove straight to Mission San Buenaventura, conveniently located in the heart of Downtown Ventura. The mission is easy to find, and one thing I immediately appreciated was the abundance of free public parking nearby.

    The exterior of the mission is beautiful and welcoming. Standing in front of the church are two elegant fountains connected by flowing water. As I learned more about the mission, I discovered that Mission San Buenaventura was once supplied by an impressive seven-mile aqueduct system built largely through the labor and engineering of the Chumash (Native Californians). Seeing the fountains made me wonder if they are connected to that remarkable water system or inspired by it. It’s a reminder that behind these beautiful structures were Native people whose knowledge, labor, and resilience made them possible.

    Before entering the church, I visited the small museum next door. Though modest in size, it contains a fascinating collection of artifacts that help tell the story of the mission. One item that especially caught my attention was the beautifully crafted wooden bell, a unique piece that stood out among the exhibits.

    The museum also features a short video acknowledging the painful history of California’s missions. Rather than presenting only a romanticized version of the past, it speaks about learning from past mistakes and the importance of reconciliation with Native Americans. I found that especially meaningful, and I plan to write a separate blog dedicated to that subject.

    After spending time inside the museum, I wandered into the mission’s peaceful courtyard. It felt like stepping away from the busy streets of downtown Ventura into a quiet sanctuary. The garden is beautifully maintained, with colorful flowers, mature trees, and shaded walkways that invite visitors to slow down and reflect.

    Stepping inside the church was a peaceful experience. The sanctuary is simple yet breathtaking, filled with natural light that highlights its white walls and historic architecture. Despite being one of California’s oldest missions, the church feels alive, continuing to serve both as a place of worship and as a living piece of history.

    The altar immediately draws your attention. Beautifully designed and rich in detail, it reflects the Spanish colonial style while creating a sense of reverence and quiet reflection. Whether you’re religious or simply interested in history, it’s difficult not to appreciate the artistry and craftsmanship that have been preserved for generations.

    One tradition I’ve started on this mission journey is carrying my California Missions Passport. At every mission I visit, I look forward to getting it stamped. It’s a simple keepsake, but with every stamp it reminds me that I’m not just collecting destinations—I’m learning the stories behind each mission and deepening my understanding of California’s history, one visit at a time.

    I took these photos in the museum next to the mission. I’ll share more about it in a separate blog.

    I also make it a point to pause for a quiet prayer—not only inside the church, but especially for the Native people who built these missions. I pray for the countless men, women, and children whose blood, sweat, and tears made these structures possible. I remember those who suffered, those who died, and those whose voices were silenced. Their lives and sacrifices must never be forgotten. They are not a footnote in California’s history—they are an essential part of it.

    Mission San Buenaventura is more than just another stop on the California Mission Trail. It is a place where beauty, faith, history, and difficult truths exist together. Visiting with an open mind allows us to admire the beauty of the church while also honoring the Native communities whose labor, culture, and lives became intertwined with its story.

    As I continue my journey to all 21 California missions, I hope each visit reminds me that understanding history means embracing both its beauty and its complexities. Only then can we truly appreciate the past and ensure that every part of the story—including those who have too often been overlooked—is remembered.

  • The California Missions Through Indigenous Eyes

    The memorial, erected in 1997, honors those buried at the site between 1791 and 1852.

    Most people living in California—whether they grew up here or just moved here—don’t really know the story behind these places.

    If the East Coast was shaped by colonization, the West Coast was shaped by missionization. The Spanish brought Christianity, especially Catholicism, and that became a huge part of California’s identity.


    The image shows a pastoral scene from the early 19th century, highlighting the interaction between the Spanish mission and the native landscape and inhabitants. 

    But here’s the thing—we shouldn’t romanticize it.

    These beautiful missions weren’t built by miracles. They were built by the blood, sweat, and forced labor of Native Americans whose stories deserve to be remembered too.

    The scene shows Ohlone men performing a traditional dance with feathered headdresses and body paint in front of the Mission San Francisco de Asís (Mission Dolores).
    The scene depicts Costanoan (Ohlone) people defending against a Spanish dragoon soldier in Monterey, California.
    For many, a church bell calls people to worship. For many Native Americans, it also echoes a painful history of forced conversion, cultural erasure, and loss. The ugliest sound isn’t the bell itself—it’s the history it represents.

    That’s why every time I visit a mission, I don’t just admire the architecture or attend Mass. I also take a moment to say a prayer for the Indigenous people who suffered and sacrificed here.

    This is a kiiy, the traditional dome-shaped dwelling of the Tongva (Gabrielino) people.
    This bronze sculpture is recognized as “Chief Wolf Robe” or “Standing Bear” by the Austrian artist Carl Kauba.
    It depicts a Native American chief holding a peace pipe and a blanket, typically mounted on a marble or slate base.

    History isn’t just about celebrating the beautiful parts—it’s about remembering the hard truths too.

    21 missions. One journey. Countless stories worth telling. 🤍

  • A Stop at Mission San Fernando Rey de España

    After my visit to Mission San Gabriel Arcángel, I felt inspired to continue my journey and visit another nearby mission. My next stop was Mission San Fernando Rey de España, located about a 45-minute drive from San Gabriel.

    The interior of the church felt quite similar to the other missions I had visited. In a way, I actually appreciated that familiarity. Having grown up in the Philippines, I have seen many churches like these—some even larger and more elaborate. Walking inside brought a sense of familiarity and, unexpectedly, a feeling of home.

    I was somewhat disappointed with the museum, as there was no clear guide on where to begin or how to follow a chronological flow through the exhibits. There were limited written explanations to help visitors fully understand the context. While there were still interesting artifacts and pieces of memorabilia on display, the overall experience felt less structured and less engaging than I had expected.

    They also have a Workshop Museum, which I found particularly interesting. It offered a glimpse into how the Native people, under the guidance of the missionaries, carried out their daily work during the mission era. Seeing the tools, setups, and reconstructed workspaces helped me better imagine how life and labor were organized in those times.

    The mission also has beautiful gardens that add to its peaceful atmosphere. I would love to come back during the winter season, just to spend more time walking through the grounds, visiting again, and reflecting quietly on the experience, especially since it is just too hot right now.

    My visit to Mission San Fernando Rey de España was a quiet and reflective continuation of my mission journey. While the interiors and museum felt familiar compared to the other missions I had visited, it still offered a meaningful space to pause and appreciate California’s layered history. The gardens added to the calm atmosphere, making it a place worth slowing down in, even briefly.

  • Echoes of History at Mission San Gabriel Arcángel

    My interest in California’s missions began after my visit to Mission Santa Barbara. I arrived in Santa Barbara carrying a heavy heart, but I left with a renewed sense of purpose—a goal to visit all 21 California missions.

    As a Filipino, I feel a special connection to these Spanish missions. The Philippines was under Spanish rule for more than three centuries, so the influence of Spanish Catholicism and mission life is familiar to me. As a Catholic living in California, I believe these missions are places worth visiting. And as an immigrant who now calls California home, I feel that learning about them is essential. Ignoring the history of the place where we live is a missed opportunity, because understanding the past helps us better understand the present and where we are headed.

    After returning from Santa Barbara, I decided to begin my journey to all 21 missions. Living in Los Angeles, the closest missions are Mission San Gabriel Arcángel and Mission San Fernando Rey de España. I chose to start with Mission San Gabriel, eager to learn more about California’s rich and complex history.

    Mission San Gabriel Arcángel was the fourth mission founded by Father Junípero Serra, who was later canonized as Saint Junípero Serra. As I explored the museum and read about its history, I learned that San Gabriel was one of the most prosperous missions in California. It thrived economically and played a significant role in converting Indigenous peoples to Catholicism.

    Of course, the story of the mission system is not without controversy. There is a darker side to this history, particularly in its impact on Native communities. While that important subject deserves attention, I will discuss it in a separate section. For now, I want to focus on understanding the mission’s role in shaping early California and the legacy it left behind.

    One thing I have noticed is that many of the mission churches have cemeteries located beside them. I have not yet visited all 21 missions, so I cannot say this with certainty, but it is a pattern I have observed in the missions I have explored so far.

    Inside the church, visitors are greeted by a beautiful and ornate altar. Six statues, originally brought from Spain, stand as reminders of the mission’s deep Spanish roots and religious heritage. As I admired the sanctuary, I couldn’t help but imagine that this was what many churches looked like during the Spanish colonial era—rich in symbolism, artistry, and devotion.

    One thing I truly appreciate about these missions is that they all seem to have museums. As someone who loves history, I make it a point to read every exhibit and historical panel. During my visit, I learned about Toypurina, a Tongva medicine woman and leader who became known for her resistance to Spanish rule. Her story added another layer to my understanding of the mission’s complex history.

    The layout of the mission resembles that of a presidio, or fortified settlement. Its design provided protection from outside threats, including wild animals, potential attacks, and conflicts with rival groups. Like many Spanish colonial establishments, the mission served not only as a religious center but also as a place of security and defense.

    One exhibit that particularly fascinated me was the old kitchen. Standing there, I couldn’t help but imagine how difficult it must have been to prepare meals in those days. There were no refrigerators, microwaves, electricity, or gas stoves—everything had to be done by hand and over an open fire. It gave me a new appreciation for the daily work and resourcefulness of the people who lived at the mission. Below are photos of the historic kitchen.

    Another exhibit that caught my attention was the reconstruction of the homes where the Tongva people lived. Seeing these traditional dwellings gave me a glimpse into their daily lives and culture long before the arrival of the Spanish. It was a reminder that the history of the mission is also the history of the Indigenous communities who called this land home for thousands of years.

    My visit to Mission San Gabriel Arcángel was more than just a tour of a historic site—it was a journey into California’s past. From the beautiful church and museum exhibits to learning about the Tongva people and figures like Toypurina, I gained a deeper appreciation for the mission’s rich and complex history. As I continue my goal of visiting all 21 California missions, this stop has only strengthened my desire to learn more about the people, cultures, and stories that shaped the state I now call home.

  • A Weekend Escape to Santa Barbara

    There are times when life feels overwhelming, and the best thing to do is simply get away for a while. I did exactly that and headed to Santa Barbara for a solo retreat.

    The drive from Los Angeles was beautiful. As the scenery changed and the ocean came into view, I could already feel myself leaving behind the stress and noise of everyday life. Driving along the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) made the journey even more memorable, with stunning coastal views, dramatic cliffs, and endless stretches of sparkling blue water making every mile feel like part of the vacation itself.

    TripSavvy – Vacation Like a Pro

    Upon arriving in Santa Barbara, I stopped for breakfast at Farmer Boys. It may not be the first place people think of when visiting the city, but it was a great way to start the day. The atmosphere was pleasant, relaxed, and welcoming—exactly what I needed.

    After breakfast, I began exploring some of Santa Barbara’s historic landmarks. My first stop was the iconic Mission Santa Barbara, often called the “Queen of the Missions.” Walking through the grounds and admiring the architecture made it easy to appreciate the city’s rich history.

    One of the highlights of my visit was learning about the Lone Woman of San Nicolas Island. Her extraordinary story of living alone on San Nicolas Island for years is both heartbreaking and inspiring. I found it incredibly interesting and immediately wanted to learn more about her history.

    From there, I visited the Santa Barbara Historical Museum, where I learned more about the people and events that shaped the region.

    I then made my way to the Santa Barbara Courthouse, one of the most beautiful public buildings I’ve ever seen. The Spanish Colonial architecture, colorful tiles, and panoramic views from the clock tower were absolutely worth the visit.

    By lunchtime, I found myself at the State Street Promenade. The vibrant pedestrian-friendly street is full of shops, restaurants, and people enjoying the California sunshine. It was the perfect place to sit down, enjoy a meal, and soak in the atmosphere.

    Later in the afternoon, I checked into the Sandpiper Lodge. I chose it because it was one of the more affordable options in town. The hotel wasn’t perfect—the air conditioner was quite loud, and the bed wasn’t particularly comfortable—but it served its purpose. I had a clean place to stay and rest between adventures.

    After taking some time to relax, I headed to Stearns Wharf. There wasn’t anything specific on my agenda. I simply wanted to sit, enjoy the ocean breeze, and watch the water. Sometimes the best moments of a trip are the simplest ones. As the sun began to set, I found myself appreciating the peace and quiet that had been missing from my routine.

    The next morning, I continued exploring Santa Barbara’s history. I visited Casa de la Guerra, a fascinating historic adobe home that offers a glimpse into California’s early days.

    I also toured El Presidio de Santa Barbara, one of the last remaining Spanish military fortresses in California.

    For lunch, I headed to Panino, just across from the El Presidio de Santa Bárbara State Historic Park. It was easily one of the highlights of the trip—fresh ingredients, delicious flavors, and a laid-back atmosphere that perfectly captures the spirit of Santa Barbara.

    Before I knew it, it was time to make the drive back to Los Angeles.

    What I took home from Santa Barbara was more than just photos and memories. The trip gave me time to reflect, recharge, and clear my mind. The city’s slower pace, beautiful scenery, and rich history reminded me that sometimes stepping away is exactly what we need.

    Santa Barbara may have only been a weekend getaway, but it felt like a much-needed reset. And although I eventually had to return to LA, part of me was already looking forward to the next visit.

  • BEYOND THE CHURCH WALLS

    When I was in theological school, one of our professors asked a question that stayed with me for years:

    “Who do you think receives more credit in heaven — someone who goes to church on a Sunday, or someone who spends that Sunday helping people, such as feeding the hungry?”

    What seemed like a simple question quickly turned into a deep debate. It eventually opened up larger discussions about society, government, politics, morality, and faith itself.

    More questions followed:

    “Is it enough to lock yourself in your room, pray, and ask God for help while ignoring the problems of society?”

    “Is it morally right to turn your back on the suffering of the community while continuing to attend church and simply pray?”

    “When we talk about serving God, does that only mean serving within our own circle of believers? Or does it also mean stepping outside our comfort zones to serve those who may not even share our faith?”

    The more we discussed these questions, the more I realized how transactional society has become. We often give because we expect something in return. And because human beings naturally desire control, we sometimes project that mindset onto our faith.

    We begin treating spirituality like a merit system.

    If we go to church every Sunday, we think we earn a point in heaven. If we pray every day, we think we earn another. We try to measure righteousness through rituals and actions, almost as if we can somehow control how God responds to us. In doing so, we create an image of God and heaven based on our own limited understanding.

    The danger begins when we convince ourselves that our system of belief is the only correct one, while all others are wrong. That is when religion turns into pride. We become like the Pharisees and Sadducees in the Bible — quick to condemn those who do not follow what we follow.

    Through years of studying theology and through my experiences in mission work, meeting people from all walks of life, I came to understand something important:

    Pleasing God is not about collecting spiritual points.

    I came to understand that many of our beliefs were handed down through generations, shaped by the culture, struggles, and realities of their time. Because of that, faith should not fear questions. It is okay to think critically. It is okay to ask why instead of blindly following simply because someone said so.

    I also came to understand that we cannot manipulate God through religious performance. No matter how many times we pray in a day, it does not make us more righteous than others, nor does it place God under our command.

    And perhaps most importantly, I realized that people love debating about God as if He needs defending. But in reality, God does not need our defense — He is God. The Almighty. The Omnipotent. The Alpha and the Omega. Why would He need us to protect Him? If anything, He is the one protecting and sustaining us.

    So going back to that original question:

    Who receives more credit in heaven — the person who goes to church on Sunday, or the person who spends that Sunday helping the hungry and serving those in need?

    For me, the answer will always be:

    “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

    FAITH WITHOUT WORKS IS DEAD! James 2:26

  • Faith, Fear, and Finally Freedom

    I just finished Devout by David Archuleta, and I can’t stop thinking about it.

    What struck me most isn’t just his story as an artist, but his story as a person trying to survive in a space where he felt he had to choose between faith, family, and identity. Growing up in a deeply religious environment, with so much control over his life and career, he learned early on how to silence parts of himself just to be accepted.

    And that’s something many gay people know too well.

    For a lot of us, the struggle isn’t just about coming out—it’s about unlearning years of fear, shame, and the belief that who we are is somehow “wrong.” It’s about sitting in that quiet tension of wanting to belong while feeling like you never fully do. That kind of internal conflict can be exhausting and deeply isolating.

    David’s journey of breaking free—from control, from expectations, and from the version of himself others tried to shape—is incredibly powerful. Choosing authenticity often comes with loss, but it also creates space for something we don’t talk about enough: peace.

    I related to this more than I expected. Having spent years in the closet myself, I understand that weight—the constant editing of who you are just to feel safe.

    This book is raw, honest, and ultimately hopeful. It reminds me that living truthfully is not just brave—it’s necessary.

    Spread your wings, David.