There is only one singular constant in all my memorable trips to the principalidad de Asturias in the northern coast of Spain.

I recall memories with my dear parents on a sentimental reunion with familiares y conocidos who previously resided in Cebu, another trip con mas parientes celebrating their ancestral roots, with two sets of travelling buddies — one after a beautiful more-than-a-fairy-tale of a wedding, the other simply taking an extended paseo de iglesias y museos, fincas y playas, comidas y cenas and everything else in between — and most of all, with several visits to my Tia Maria, once a resident of the region.

But we were one to pray for petitions or thanksgivings — the common thread amongst all these viajes — at the Catedral Metropolitana Basílica de San Salvador, or much more commonly known as the Oviedo Cathedral.

Don’t ask me why — it just happened to be.

Vague records reveal the pre-Romanesque structure was built from the orders of Rey Alfonso II de Asturias, who wished for a house of prayer in the center of their kingdom’s newly-formed royal court — the hub of religious, political and social activities then.

Its smattering of influences comes from its historical background, as it still stands through the centuries as prime examples of Romanesque, Gothic, Baroque and Renaissance architectures.

As always, we continued to be mesmerized by the Retablo Mayor, the main altarpiece, a majestic masterwork in a late Gothic Hispano-Flemish approach — all entirely made of polychrome wood. But mind you, gilded in finish!

Spanning approximately two-thirds the height of the church and the entirety of its width, the centerpiece is divided into three sections, which all depict the life of Christ — His Childhood, Public Life and Passion and His Death and Resurrection. No matter how I counted in the past, there were 23 scenes in total — I found the number rather odd.

I never fail to take a look at the altar of Saint Teresa, a Baroque creation by Manuel de Pedredo. Its main feature is the awe-inspiring sculpture of one of the doctors of the church by Luis Fernández de la Vega. Lovingly known as Santa Teresa de Avila, one of the Patron Saints of Spain, the sick, and those ridiculed for their piety. Flanking her image are the Carmelite Order reformer Saint John of the Cross and Teresa’s very own spiritual leader Saint Peter of Alcantara.

Though the topmost details touch on the Old Testament prophet Elijah and the origins of the Carmelite order, the lower part focuses on the transverberation — “a mystical grace wherein her heart was mysteriously wounded by an arrow made from the love of Christ” — of Saint Teresa. It’s an ideal area to attempt to take it all in, simply surrender, and meditate.

We likewise make it a point to stop by the shrine of Santa Maria Magdalena — which I personally find a rarity even in Catholic chapels. Her image was with a cross in hand, draped in golden garments. She is best remembered as one who was constantly with Christ and was a witness to his Crucifixion and Resurrection.

As in years past, we found ourselves at the Holy Chamber through a Gothic staircase — an exercise seemingly more difficult to accomplish these days.

La Capilla de San Miguel was ordered to be constructed by the same monarch as the prayer room of his palace. Today, its barren vaults are still as awe-inspiring as ever.