A Pilgrim’s Journal

On October 11th, Sr. Christina shepherded 26 souls on a 9-day Marian Pilgrimage that covered Fatima, Portugal to Avila, Spain and on to Lourdes, France where we were joined by a family of seven who traveled with us to Lisieux and Nevers, France.  One of those souls is yours truly.

I ask you - what does a pilgrim make?  As far as I was concerned, I was going to visit Europe to see the some of the places where our Lady has appeared to some worthy people.  I was going on a tour with a group of people, wearing name tags glaringly telling locals that I am not one of them, a guide to boss us around, and a strict schedule to follow.  Doesn’t that make me a tourist? 
                                                                            
Oct 12th, Wednesday – Fatima, Portugal:   Arrived at Hotel Fatima at dinner time.  We were all asked to proceed to the restaurant while our tour guide, Paula, takes care of checking us (and our luggage) in.  It was up to us if we wanted to go to the Shrine which is located in the Square right in front of our hotel – since we were unable to participate in the candlelight procession that was then ongoing.  I think all of us still went to visit the Shrine after dinner.

What a sight to behold! The teeming number of people praying, the atmosphere of complete reverence, the total immersion of mind and body in the here and now – all these are palpable manifestations of faith!  Even when a slight drizzle started, no one left but umbrellas starting to sprout out like mushrooms and jackets/raincoats became slashes of color in the night.

After breakfast the next day, our tour guide gathered us bright and early to trace the steps of the three children, especially those of Sister Lucia who has died early part of this year, to whom appeared our Lady of Peace (as she declared herself to be).  We even had a chance to drink water from the well which was dug upon our Lady’s instructions and meet with one of Sister Lucia’s uncle! I cannot imagine how it felt to have known Sister Lucia when seeing a living relative of hers leaves me in awe.

At night, we rushed through our dinner to be on time for the candlelight procession.  It is the anniversary of the Miracle of the Sun – and when we arrived, the square in front of the Shrine was already packed.  Our Lady’s image with the real crown of gold will be processed around the square that night.  The rosary was being said in different languages – I could understand only the Portuguese and English Hail Mary’s but a sense of oneness with all these people could be felt.

The weather which is unusually fine for an October in Fatima (I’m told) had held until the time when our Lady’s image was going down its way around the square.  There was a rumble of thunder, a flash of lightning, and then a sprinkle of rain started.  What an entrance! I thought.  Then I saw the expression on the people’s faces:  the look of total belief, the smile of acceptance, the stare of bewilderment, the bowed heads of reverence, the physical need to touch her image – all these with the powerful sounds of voices singing Ave Maria! in the background. . .then I rushed into the path of the procession – her image was followed by a number of priests and the faithful - and tried to get a glimpse of her myself.  Right then did I become a pilgrim.

If you are not a believer, once you experience a night like this one, you will be!  Yes, it is one of those “you have to be there to believe it” events.

Oct 14th, Friday – Avila, Spain:  Left early for Avila by bus.  Paula gave us a lot of insightful information about Portugal on the way to Avila – which confirmed my perception:  Portugal is beautiful in its self-proclaimed poverty shown by the green-and-brown simplicity of its landscape. Elena, our local guide, took over and we were welcomed into the Monastery where Santa Teresa de Jesus went to become a nun.  Her life story was relayed to us while we looked at the different places where she has left her mark.  Then we proceeded to the Walled City of Avila which rose magnificently 1,100 miles above sea level.  Beautiful!!  It was built like a fort – complete with turrets and gates.  The structures, the small town feeling, the little stores -  all these were built because of her – that is, money from both tourists and pilgrims who come to the place to visit Santa Teresa’s place of refuge.

Oct 15th, Saturday – Lourdes, France:  It is the feast of Santa Teresa today and Avila is deserted!  What a complete difference from the way Filipinos celebrate our fiestas!  No people milling around, no celebration (except for the parade last night), and camaraderie! 

Left for Lourdes by bus where Paula had to permanently hand us over to the local guide, Mika.  Arrived at Hotel Saint Sauvier at night in time for dinner but we were still able to walk to the grotto to pray, light some candles and drink the miraculous spring water.

The next morning Mika brought us to the place where Bernadette was born (Boly Mill) and lived with her family as well as where the hard times caught up with them (Cachot) due to the industrial revolution.  Everything was within walking distance from our hotel which was only 2 blocks away from the grotto of our Lady of Lourdes. . .although it must have been entirely rough roads during the time of Bernadette when she had to walk to where the grotto is located to meet up with our Lady of the Immaculate Conception (as she identified herself).

That afternoon was another revelation for me.  Sr. Christina, Clio and I went directly to the bathing area after lunch.  There were already over a hundred women in line when we arrived but we were lucky to still have seats available.  I did not really know what to expect.  Twenty five years ago, I had heard twice from Mommy (Butch’s mother) how you are submerged in the water and come out dry in seconds.  I made no judgment at all nor did I form any opinion on that statement.  But, in the here and now, I still could not grasp that concept.

Having waited an hour and fifteen minutes to get into one of the bathing structures, when my turn came, my stomach was making somersaults and I was feeling woozy.  I was called forward by one of the attendants, went inside the curtained walls and had another short wait.  Inside is another waiting area where I was called to go inside a curtained cubicle.  There were 6 attendants in the cubicle – each one helping one person either to get out of their clothes or into them.  I was draped with a long, blue sheet by my attendant and asked to wait standing by another curtained-off area within the cubicle.  I could hear the splash of water and the prayers being said inside.  I blanked my mind and just started praying for all of those who are sick and could not come here themselves.  I was praying for a miracle for them.

After my turn, I felt like a heavy load has been lifted from my shoulders.  I thought, “I always want to feel this way.”  All I could think of was – THANK YOU!   thinking it a million times throughout that day.

But the day is not done.  We rushed through our dinner to participate in the candlelight procession.  The sight would give you goose pimples – not only on your arms but all over your body.  The image of our Lady of Lourdes is preceded and followed by people in crutches, in wheelchairs, and in rolling beds (with their attendants helping them),  and the countless number of able-bodied men, women and children - all holding a lighted candle in different sizes.  It is mind-boggling!  Where did all these people come from?  Did the people from Fatima drive over to Lourdes like we did?

Oct 17th, Sunday – Paris, France:  We flew into the city of Paris and arrived at around 11 am local time.  We were met by our local guide, Laurent, who proceeded to give us a city tour on the way to our hotel.  So many historic sights and so little time to see them: amazing architecture that has been preserved and so well-maintained that one could still “see” how Robespierre’s reign of terror emerged with the guillotine execution of the king and his wife, Marie-Antoinette;  the wonderful vista of Napoleon’s Arc de Triomphe de l’Toile from the length of the Champs Elysees;  the magnificent Eiffel tower; the gothic architecture of the Notre Dame de Paris;  the Concord Square where Paris’ oldest monument stands; Maxim’s Restaurant;  the beautiful Opera building; and, of course, the Louvre.

We had to grab lunch and wolf it down because we needed to go straight to visit St. Catherine Laboure of our Lady of the Miraculous Medal and we had a mass scheduled at 1:30 pm.  This trip has been one revelation after another for me.  When Mommy told us about the incorrupt body of St. Catherine so many years ago, my only response was, “Talaga, po?”  and thought nothing else about it. . .

There I was, with the people from my group rushing to kneel down on the pew right in front of St. Catherine’s glass encased mortal body, their heads bowed in prayer, some courageously taking pictures – I remained standing on the left side, continued staring at the body and then the face, trying to figure out how old this corpus is, and all that came to my mind is, “Oh, s---!”  (Pardon the French – just being truthful.)  My brain is refusing to accept all these inexplicable facts glaringly confronting me.

Carlton’s Inn is conveniently located close to the Metro subway, four blocks to Mont Marte and five blocks away from Basilique de Sacre Coeur – whose unbearably steep and long flight of stairs up challenged our weak legs (Sr. Christina, Fr. Mario, Sr. Carmelita, Dante, Nelia, Butch & myself).   One feature of the hotel is its rooftop terrace where the brave night owls (Sr. Christina, Sr. Carmelita, Dolly, Weng, Art, Its, Amor, Vicky, Luz, Layda, Dante, Butch & I) went up to enjoy the view of the city as well as to witness the hourly flashing-light display of the Tour Eiffel .

Oct 18th, Monday:  Headed out by bus to Lisieux which is northwest of Paris towards Normandy and about 3-1/2 hours away.   The Carmelite sisters herded us in St. Therese’s home where she lived until she left her family to enter the Carmelite Monastery at the age 15.

St. Therese’s house is that of a well-off family’s residence.  The house is well-preserved and gave one a feeling of Therese’s family life.  The dining room where she ate with her 4 sisters and father;  the kitchen where they cooked their family meal;  and the bedroom where some of her personal belongings were on display – the first communion dress, her doll & crib set, her Math & other books she used.  It’s amazing how more human a saint is when their life can be seen and touched by mere mortals like me!

Oct 19th, Tuesday – Nevers:   Our bus headed southeast of Paris – where we are to visit the convent where St. Bernadette (of our Lady of Lourdes) fled to become a nun.  The convent gives one a feeling of history and peace.  I could smell the fragrant flowers.  I had no expectations – just a curiosity and a need to see St. Bernadette’s incorrupt body.  I kept thinking of comparing the two . . . but there is no comparison.

There she lies – and she is beautiful – for lack of a better word.  She does not look dead at all – just someone taking a nap.  And the way she was lying on the reliquary bed was such an ordinary, normal way of sleeping – her head slipping from the pillow.  I actually felt offended when people started taking pictures and milling around the reliquary like she was some novelty.  I felt that the flashbulbs would disturb her pristine condition . . . of course, by that time my brain was not functioning anymore.  Everything I’ve witnessed is too much for a mortal to comprehend . . . and I am just lucky that I have a strong faith to lean on.

NOT that the trip was purely a religious experience.  As one may gather from the tidbits above, our group did enjoy each place.  Since we stayed in Paris more days than the rest, we were able to go on our own for night tours – riding the Metro to the Eiffel Tower, experiencing the ride up to the top level and viewing the city at night, making a 35-minute visit of the Louvre while others enjoyed a river tour of the city while some spent time shopping.

The author feels fortunate in the fact that, because of this pilgrimage, everything else around her is now more meaningful.  I have always wondered at the definition of the word ‘faith.’  There is none.  Each individual has a relationship with God that is so individual and unlike others that each one’s faith differs from another – although our mortal minds always give a generalized body of truths for those who need them.