Another feast day.

Celebrating the 200th anniversary of the the Church of Saint Raymond Nolasco in Molinos.

Salta City, Argentina

June 3rd, 2026

Dear Reader,

We’d heard that the mass was at 10am, so we’d showed up at five past ten. Over a loud speaker we could hear a booming voice.

“The mass has started, we better hurry!”, said my mother, hustling toward the church.

Chairs had been set in front of the church for mass. There were lots of people already seated and many more standing or sitting at a distance.

We recognized our friends, also owners of farms in the Valley, and scooted into seats behind them.

It was Sunday, but not any Sunday. On this Sunday, it was the celebration of the 200th anniversary of the dedication of the church of Molinos to its patron saint, Saint Raymond Nolasco. As landowners, we figured it was important to attend. We’d also donated a calf for the lunch.

The man over the loud speakers was making announcements.

“And now will Doctor So and So please come up. Thank you for your service to the community, Doctor. Please put your hands together Ladies and Gentlemen.”.

The doctor presented himself and was handed a framed photo of the church commemorating the event, photos were snapped, and the man took his seat once more.

This went on for some time. Even a few of the old people of the village received commemorative plaques for their regular attendance at church.

Finally, our neighbors seated in front of us were called up. And then, my dad.

“Señor Bonner of Gualfín and La Arcadia.”, boomed the voice.

Dad was wearing his black aviator sunglasses, jeans, dusty boots, a checked button down shirt, and a broad brimmed tan colored felt hat. My grandmother always said he reminded her of Clint Eastwood, and that day he sure did look like a movie star.

He approached the podium, and received his plaque. My mom and I clapped proudly.

“Glad we got here early.”, said my dad laughing when he regained his seat.

After all the acknowledgements had been made, the mass began. The sun was hot.

It was past twelve o’clock when the service ended. Then, one by one, cakes were brought out and placed on long tables in front of the church. They were birthday cakes of varying sizes, iced with white, pink, yellow, blue, and brown, made by the people and donated for the event.

Each one was placed on the table in front of the church under the bright sun. The happy birthday song was sung, and we all clapped. White and yellow balloons were released into the air over the church. People took photos.

Balloons are released into the air.

“There are 47 cakes!”, said our neighbor’s wife, turning to me.

The cakes.

Then we all made our way to the tables which had been set under the trees near the church for lunch. A man dressed in full gaucho regalia draped our table with a white cloth. He set out glasses for us and opened our wine.

We were served the usual meal: potato salad, corn, bread, and meat. The meat had been slow cooked over a fire in the ground. It was tender and practically fell off the bone.

Following the meal, the cakes were cut and served.

We had a slice and then retired to the Hacienda de Molinos, a hotel and restaurant across from the church, for coffee.

The next day we left for Salta, and today my parents take off for Ireland.

More to come.

Abrazos,

Mariah

Mom and Dad in front of the church.