After traveling halfway around the world to the land my ancestors came from, there were a few surprises. There were no Agredanos in Agreda! According to an innkeeper, the "Agredanos" left many years ago, migrating to South America and Mexico. There hadn't been any there for muchos, muchos anos. After a visit to the "cenentario", we realized there weren't any Agredano's even buried there (although the cemetary was rather new, built around 1930). I looked around the Spanish faces to find anyone that even resembled my family. But too bad, the Spanish courses I got a 'C' in in college did me no good. I could barely speak a few words and communication was a failure. But, whenever we did try to strike up a conversation with someone by declaring "Yo soy Americana, me llama es "Agredano" (or something like that!), I was greeted warmly, and people were generally shocked that an Agredano was there, all the way from the States.

Another surprise in store was the Agreda crest. It's nothing like the one we always thought belonged to the Agredano name. Also, Agredanos are not a Basque people, because the town lies 200 miles outside of the official Basque Region, Euskadi . And while the people of Agreda are similar to the Basques, a mishmash of Arabic and Spanish, they are more Spanish European in looks, language and custom than true Basque folk.

Still, even as the only Agredano in Agreda to speak of, a true sense of awe overcame me as I strolled down the same ancient walkways that some ancestor of mine treaded upon, hundreds of years ago. And even though I learned little about my own ancestry by the visit, I will never forget the sense of experiencing firsthand the absolute originating point of a long history of family.