I'm in Menorca!

Hey y'all!
Turns out the tiny, sleepy town of Ciudadela, the one that at least some of our ancestors came from, has quite an abundance of WiFi hotspots. And that is because it is now quite the tourist hotspot.
So, here I am, retracing the steps of my ancestors! It's really amazing. I can claim ancestry from many different places...Germany, England, Northern Ireland, Scotland, France, Holland...but none of those places is as exotic or intriguing as this little Mediterranean island. Mostly because it's unique, I think. Those who even know what Menorca is in the U.S. are a select few. But I've always felt a curious connection to this place apart from that, and I think it's because Uncle Roy was so into Genealogy and I actually know much more about the Menorcans that came to Florida than most of my ancestors.

I'm sure that when they arrived at the mosquito-infested Florida swampland in order to be indigo-cultivating indentured servants braving malaria and Indian attacks they all looked at each other and had a collective "WTF were we thinking?" moment.

What? We can no longer go visit the beautiful turquoise beaches? We can't make our traditional arab-influenced pastries? We can't make our typical lobster stew? Actually, just kidding about that one. They came to Florida because they were dying of hunger, so there probably wasn't a whole lot of lobster stew-making. Why else would you sign up for indentured servitude? Well, I did read that some Menorcans came over because the guys who were originally signed up for the trip married Menorcan women when they were waiting to hop across the Atlantic.

So today I heard an organ recital on a reconstructed baroque organ, then went to the diocesan museum, then went to the cemetery to try to find some of our last names. I found an entire room of Triays, but no Rogeros. But the Triays I found aren't actually directly related to us...the oldest guy there died in the mid-19th century. The guy at the cemetery said that before that, everyone was buried in the churches. But they're turning out to be quite hard to find. I'm just glad I got to at least find some cousins.

Then I went to the beach and tried to get sunburnt. I succeeded. Now I am enjoying a beer outside at a café that has wifi. Ciudadela is a beautiful little town to get lost in, and I've thoroughly enjoyed seeing it. I found out today that it has gone through a lot. Menorcan history is basically a series of conquests...the Moors, the Spanish, the Turks, the English, the Spanish again, the Nationalist army in the Civil War, etc., etc. The Menorcan language is beautiful, but incomprehensible to me. And I also found a book today from the 18th century describing the land and its people (that is, MY people). The English dude writing it had some pretty funny things to say about the Menorquines...including the fact that even though the women didn't wear corsets, they had great posture, and the men treated the women like savages after the second day of marriage and after that the women never really went outside (I guess given that fact Florida swampland might have looked appealing). He also described entertaining dances and customs and said they were really religious. Fish on Fridays must have been easy for them being surrounded by ocean.

I did my best to upload pictures, but I don't think there's enough bandwidth here for that. So for now, just google Menorca. Then imagine my sunburnt face smiling in the middle of that picture.

ROMA

For right now I'll skip on to Italy. It will be hard to single out my favorite pics, but here goes.

Let's start with Rome.

My first night in Rome I didn't have anywhere particular I needed to be, and since I kind of wanted to be everywhere at once, I just started wandering. And I found the Trevi fountain.
Amazing.
Then somehow I found my way to the Circus Maximus, although I'm still not sure how. Of course, since I'm ignorant, I had no idea what it was. I thought: "how nice, a track for everyone!" And it turns out I was mostly right about *what* it was. I just didn't know how ancient it was.
This is the Circus Maximus, with Palatine Hill in the background.

and I could see St. Peter's, and the sunset.

The next day I visited the Vatican museums. I mostly took video, but here are a couple pictures:
St. Peter's, and the 2nd top tourist attraction at St. Peter's: the line into St. Peter's.

The main altar. Guess whose relics are underneath that big boy...I'll give you three and the first two don't count. Too bad they don't let you take pictures while on the Scavi tour, and you actually get to see his relics. You'll just have to trust me that 1) I saw the relics of St. Peter up-close-and-personal and 2) the tour was amazingly awesome.

AHHHH! I think I might die because this sculpture is so amazing. And he did this when he was 24, my age. Damn. Makes me wonder what I'm doing with my life. In the Treasury they have a full-size copy you can get really close to.

This statue in the Vatican Museums stands out because Michaelangelo studied and studied it before venturing out and doing his own magnificent sculpting. It's pretty impressive in real life, since it's so big. I wouldn't want to tangle with this dude.

I'm not quite sure, but I believe this was painted by Raphael.
The next day I stopped over at St. John Lateran...
...and had an "OMG, wish that was me!" moment.

I was quite surprised to see these guys. Is this how they threaten all those immodest women looking to go into St. John Lateran?

And...yet another "OMG, wish that was me!" moment:

Actually, I've managed to run into a wedding just about every day. So...lots of those moments...
I took that one while just rambling down the river Trastevere, killing time and taking in the view. A moment where I was glad to just be me, in the place where I was, to balance out my jealousy of the many wedding couples.

Snapped this next one while waiting to see the Pope at the closing of the Year of St. Paul. Don't piss these guys off. I think the fact that they look silly makes them even more aggressive and humorless. They were checking EVERYONE'S credentials. Even important-looking cardinals:
Anyway, my video of that day is a lot better than my pictures, so when I edit it I'll post it here.
Next we come to the day I visited the Roman Forum, Palatine Hill and the Collosseum. Turned out to be the feast day of the early Roman martyrs. So...good day to go, even if by complete accident.
hail Caesar!
I mean, don't get a big head about it or anything...
Hooray for the Triumph Arch!
Yeah. Rome is pretty darn cool.

And then I saw the Pope for the 2nd time during his Wednesday Audience. I wasn't among the most dedicated liner-uppers, choosing to wait a mere 3 hours instead of 4 or 5. I did get pretty close, though, although unfortunately I was seated right behind a huge group of Italian schoolchildren that got restless after about 10 minutes. They were cute for about 15 minutes after that, then just annoying.
The Pope talked to us about the closing of the Year of St. Paul and the opening of the Year of the Priest, and what he hopes the Year of the Priest will accomplish on a parish level, and a bit of the meaning and symbolism of the priesthood.
You'd think I'd remember a lot more details, since I heard the speech in about 6 different languages. But I, like the Italian schoolchildren, kind of zoned out with some of the details. I need to go back and reread it...I'm more of a visual learner anyway.
It was great fun, though, to see everyone cheer when their country or the name of their group was mentioned. I especially liked seeing the choirs that, when their name was called, would bounce up and launch into a song. There were some Bavarians in traditional dress, a mariachi from Mexico, a choir from France, another from Poland, and the Italian schoolchildren in front of me even had their own special cheer. I found out that there were TWO groups from Cincinnati, OH, which I thought was a bit bizarre. I couldn't find any of them afterwards, though.
On my last day I went to see some catacombs. Of course, no pictures allowed, but afterwards there was a huge storm. Actually, it started when we were still in the catacombs when it started thunderstorming. When we came back up this cute little Italian nun (pictured below) was almost hysterical and said "thank goodness you're alright!" We were wondering what she meant until she pointed out that all the electricity in the above-ground part of the convent had gone out, but NOT the electricity down where we were in the catacombs. I was quite grateful, since I hadn't really planned on being in the catacombs in the complete dark with lots of loud thunder in the background, and didn't really want to find out what that would be like. Since it started hailing, we all decided to stick around for a while. And the hail made some of the tiles on the roof fall, which is what the Sister is contemplating.
And, last but not least, the rose that I received while walking around the Circo Massimo. The girl I was staying with recommended we put it in water, but all we had was a beer mug. But it stayed fresh the whole time I was there.

more ireland

Galway. It was busy, yet remained quite quaint. Riding through county Clare I was able to listen to news radio in the Irish language, and then when we arrived at our hostel, I went on the hunt for some good music. Turns out it only took us a couple steps. Galway is one of the hubs for traditional Irish culture and lots of fun.
This was the street our hostel was on, one of the main ones in Galway.
Cute, right?
The thing about Ireland is that from the very beginning I was a little shocked to discover how much actual Ireland, even the most out-of-the-way, non-touristic places, resembled the fake Ireland so admired by adherents to fake Irish culture in the U.S. At the first Irish pub I set foot in, it was impossible for me to feel comfortable, since the furnishings and decor reminded me of so many Irish pubs in the U.S. where the only patrons are frat boys with popped collars looking to drink 5 pints of Guinness and/or do body shots, along with the occasional awkward yuppie couple trying to bond over french fries covered with plastic-looking cheese. Luckily, the resemblance didn't go past the decor. The actual people in real Irish pubs are much more interesting than the people in fake Irish pubs.
Among the people I met in Galway were a group of Irish guys who were singing folk songs and cheering America because they said Barack Obama was Irish (!). In our second bar we met a middle-aged ex-seminarian from Connecticut who told us about his hitchiking days through Europe in the '70s. He said he expected sex pretty much everywhere he went back then, and had sex with a lot of people, both women and men, who offered him lodging and gave him rides (in between his protests of the War, of course). Thus, he said, my experience of hosting a CouchSurfer that seemed to expect sex seemed altogether normal to him...in fact, he had lived that exact scenario. He was a little surprised at my assertion that sex never has and never will play a part in my expectations for CouchSurfing and my annoyance at aforementioned sex-expecting CouchSurfer, acknowledging that the '70s "were different times". Just a question for those of you around in the '70s: Seriously?
He said he admired us for being CouchSurfers. I guess we made his day, but he kind of disturbed me. I also wonder at what point entering seminary seemed like a good idea for him...was it before or after these adventures?
Then we hopped in our car the next day and drove to Connemara, after getting lost and going in the wrong direction for a good three hours. It turned out to be beautiful, though, just like everyone had said. We had a picnic here:

Then we went on along the coast to the Cliffs of Moher, where it is prohibited to step on the Sydney opera house while trying to shake hands with a seagull:


Then we went to Dublin, after getting to Cork too late to do anything but trot sleepily through the airport for a couple hours. Well, that's what I did, anyway. But Dublin was nice in the morning. A highlight was the Guinness factory:
The best part is that you can go up to the top of the building and enjoy a free Guinness while looking out over Dublin:
Also, I really enjoyed all the publicity for Guinness. Somehow they managed to convince people that it was good for their health, and that doctors would prescribe it for fatigue and weakness.

WIFI!

WHOOOOOOO!
So...time for pictures!

Above you will see the famed Blarney Castle.
Within Blarney Castle there were tons of tiny passageways. Since I've never really grown up, I enjoyed hiding in them.
Of course, the view was gorgeous:
And finally, the one you've been waiting for...
me kissing the famed blarney stone. And the guy that works there enjoys the view from up top.

Bari

I'm sorry there are no pictures in this post, either. The problem is that I can't upload ANY pictures because NOWHERE has free wifi, so my only access to internet is at shady-looking internet points. I'm actually writing this from a laundromat. I feel like I'm in the Dark Ages. But I don't intend to let the internet go long without my Blarney stone/boobs picture once I'm back to Wifi civilization.

I'm currently in Bari, Italy. From Siena I went to Assisi, which was GORGEOUS and I fell in love with. It's such a cute tiny little medieval town. I loved seeing the tombs of Sts. Clare and Francis, and seeing the clothes they wore. And I will always have a special place in my heart for the time I had strolling amongst the olive trees while watching the sun set over the Umbrian valley.

Then from Assisi I went to Foggia, and quickly realized there was nothing there I wanted to see. I tried to couch surf but my would-be host wrote me from the hospital to tell me his father was really sick. This made the second time my host had had family problems! I tried to surf in Siena but the same thing...she wrote me saying her family had serious problems. I started to think I might have a curse and hopped on the next bus to San Giovanni Rotundo, where Padre Pio lived and died.

I wandered around a bit before getting a hotel...luckily in SGR there are hundreds and hundreds of rooms...and even though my hotel was big I think I only saw about 5 other people staying there. It's a huge pilgrimage spot for Italians and I think increasingly for people from all over the world. There were still signs up from when the Pope visited there a few weeks ago.

It was amazing to see Padre Pio and also the museum of where he lived. I took lots of video I'm intending to edit so that you all can see too!

It was funny because when I was in Assisi thinking about St. Francis, I thought, 'why is there no one like this today?' And then the next day I realized that Saint Padre Pio IS today's St. Francis. The parallels between the two abound...starting with the fact that Padre Pio's given name was Francesco and extending to the fact that they both had the stigmata (I didn't think about when I was planning my trip that I would see three stigmatists in three days...kind of intense but also awesome). And even during his lifetime Padre Pio was a spiritual father to many people, and you can see a HUGE collection of letters that were written to him in the museum. And apparently he felt so responsable for his spiritual children that he said when he died, he would wait outside the gates of heaven until each one of his spiritual children were let inside.

From there I went to Bari, which is on the Adriatic coast. There's not a whole lot going on here, but I've enjoyed wandering around. And I had my funniest couch surfing experience to date last night.

A question I get asked a lot is 'isn't that risky?', in reference to traveling alone and especially couch surfing. But mostly just funny things happen, even in situations that could be potentially harmful.

Last night my host, an economist, picked me up from the bus station in a Mercedes. Upon arriving at his apartment we had a wonderful meal of freshly made local bread, locally made olive oil, fresh mozzarella and basil, tomatoes, prosciutto, and ricotta cheese. Also, some very good local wine, which I enjoyed too much of. While we were eating, he put on some Celine Dion, turned off the lights 'because they make the kitchen hot' and lit some candles. And he offered me champagne and Ferrero Rocher chocolates, but I didn't have time to enjoy them because of aforementioned red wine.

So we are standing on his balcony and he starts trying to romance me, but since I've had too much wine I instead start complaining about Obama buying General Motors and how much it pisses me off. Then he went into the kitchen and I realized that the room was spinning and it was probably not a good idea for me to continue being awake, so I promptly told him I was going to bed. But instead of going to sleep, I threw up my delicious dinner.

I think the whole thing was a little surprising for my host.

Italia!

Ciao loyal readers!
I am currently in Siena. For the past couple weeks I've been soaking up the sun and almost intolerable heat of the great country of Italy. I. LOVE. IT.
I left Oviedo in the dust and was quite content to. I went to Ireland and rented a car and drove on the wrong side of the road and got lost in the Irish countryside on roads that looked big on the map but in reality were only wide enough for barely one car, let alone two, or one car and a horse pulling a buggy.
I loved Ireland. We rented a car in Cork but almost immediately drove to Blarney Castle. I kissed the Blarney stone, although later I learned that the men that help you kiss it also pee on it. How disappointing for guys whose job it is is basically to look down at boobs all day. To kiss the Blarney stone you have to lay on your back and lean back, suspending your head over many stories above the ground. So my friend took a picture of me kissing the Blarney stone and all that appear in the picture are my boobs.
Then we drove to Galway. We had a hostel right in the middle of everything, which was great. There were a ton of pubs with live traditional music, which was AWESOME. The next day (after getting lost even with a GPS) we drove to Connemara, which is supposedly one of the most beautiful places in Ireland. I agree. Then we went to the Cliffs of Moher, which were windy enough to knock us over, and we ended up having dinner randomly in a tiny town which also had live music. We got to Cork late and were going to couch surf but since it was so late we just slept in the airport and when I couldn't sleep I experimented with putting on every piece of clothing I brought to lighten up my suitcase, so that I wouldn't get charged to check it for 30 euro with my laptop inside!
Then we flew to Dublin and saw Trinity College and the book of Kells, and also went to the Guinness factory and the Jameson whisky factory. Both were fun. We couch surfed with a couple, a Polish girl and a German man, as well as another couple from Texas being hosted. The guy used to be a drug dealer until he was arrested for 7 felonies and then experienced a conversion and got a degree in theology. The girl used to be Catholic and a NET minister and then converted to "the Vineyard". We had some really interesting and spiritual gratifying conversation over a Guinness.
And then I went to Barcelona. It was fun. I'll be going back after Italy so I'll write about it then. The Sagrada Familia is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Coincidentally I met an Irish man and his daughter there, who had just come from Ireland and were then going to Rome like me. What a strange itinerary for both of us to have.
Then I went to Rome and spent 8 nights. I fell in love completely with that city so much that I can't even describe it in words. I felt so at home there. I went for a job interview for a description that would have suited me perfectly but didn't get a job because by the time I got there all the positions had been filled, although the man was very nice and happy that I had applied and come by anyway. But for a good two days I was hypothesizing about living there. The funny thing was that the girl I was renting a room from told me when I got there that starting in September the room I was staying in was free. So I had a job interview AND a potential place to live! And I really felt like I had entered grown-up world.
I saw so many things in Rome, but I'm glad I spread them out because even as it was I got really tired. There's just too much to see there. I ended up seeing the Pope twice and totally made eye contact (it's documented on video!). Also saw the tombs of many saints, many priceless works of art, and got handed a rose from a man in a car while walking around the Circus Maximus at 11:30 at night.
From Rome I went to Florence. I really liked Florence too. I got to see the real Birth of Venus by Botticelli and Leonardo da Vinci's Annunciation and a bunch of other paintings that I think it made me a better person to see. Also went to the Church and House of Dante. Both Beatrice and his actual wife are buried in the church, which is interesting. I always wondered if his wife was jealous of Beatrice. The information in his house said he was betrothed to his wife at the age of 14. I really wonder how he felt about her. He must have paid her some attention because he had quite a few kids with her.
I also have managed to get hit on every single day since I left Florence, except for today and that's because I'm staying inside. The first night a guy started talking to me on the street and I was curious about what he would say, as well as wanted to learn more Italian. So I went with it, telling him I was Spanish and that I was an English teacher and he showed me around and then bought a bottle of wine and we sat on the banks of the river Arno while he played the only two songs on his cell phone: "You're Beautiful" by James Blunt and "Hips Don't Lie" by Shakira. I was actually laughing the entire time. He tried to convince me to go with him to a mountain on a motorbike and to be his "girlfriend" but instead I went home, leaving him disappointed and with a half-empty bottle of wine. Since the fact of whether or not I had a boyfriend was important to him, I decided to make one up halfway through, although it didn't really help.
The next night an African guy asked me in French if he could kiss me, even though I told him that he could not sit next to me. I was minding my own business looking at a building from the Renaissance and listening to a guy on the street play some very good classical guitar and then an overly eager African ruined it.
Then last night the same scenario almost happened as my first night in Florence, although it was in Siena, and the guy was a lot more pushy and a lot less respectful of my wishes to NOT go to his house and drink Chianti. He ended up flipping me off when I refused and decided just to go home. Yeah, yeah, I shouldn't have gone out with him in the first place, but he had just asked me to go have a beer with him in a nearby café. Curiosity gets the better of me. My revenge will be that someday I can write something with all of these guys as characters that bad things happen to.
Siena is really cute. Florence was bustling in the Renaissance, but Siena was built up during the Middle Ages. It has lots of winding streets perfect for getting lost on. Right now it's a party atmosphere because of the Palio, a famous horse race that they actually party for a month to celebrate. Last night groups of men at 2:00 in the morning were marching down the street next to my hotel shouting songs as loud as they could. Makes our Derby parties look lame. I saw St. Catherine's head (and thumb, actually), as well as her house and the cell she used to use. I've also really enjoyed the "crypt", which is actually not a crypt but the anteroom of an ancient church covered in wall paintings that were preserved because they filled the place with dirt and debris and left it for 700 years. So the colors are bright and beautiful. It's so funny how they used to just build churches on top of one another, like it was no big deal. Also there is a Eucharistic Miracle here were 200 something consecrated hosts have survived perfectly for over 200 years. Numerous scientific studies have been done on them and they have confirmed that they date until way back when and that they are bread which should have already disintegrated many years back. They've been stolen and returned twice. Very interesting and something I'm glad I got to see.
Today I tried to go to a small town that is having a Chianti festival, but the bus never came. So I had an excellent lunch of grilled vegetables and swordfish and drank a half liter of wine, and then the owner, who had been talking to me, gave me a free limoncello at the end. And then I realized that I was tipsy and after tackling the steep medieval hills went home and took a four hour long nap.
I think I'll go out now and have a gelato for dinner. I saw a place that had white chocolate flavor. MMM.

so...lourdes

I wish I had written about Lourdes sooner than this, although it is nice to be forced to look back.
My first impression upon arriving? "I have ended up in Catholic Vegas." When I got there, it was night, and so all of the hotels and restaurants had their neon lights lit up, screaming for attention from the crowds of feast-day tourists. There are two rivers going through Lourdes, and my hotel was on this one. This creates the kind of Catholic resort-town feel, because all you see are rows of blocks of hotels that back up to the sanctuary.

And, of course, there is tack. 100% pure, unrefined, leaves-a-bitter-aftertaste tack. Some tack can be kute or kitschy. Heck, I couldn't get enough of the humorously ugly yet well-intentioned sparkly Our Lady of Guadalupe things in Mexico. But Lourdes takes tackiness to the next level.
Of course, most prominent are the holy water containers, which, mysteriously, are different prices all around town. At first I started to bargain hunt and then my brain melted from all the different numbers. In the end I didn't care whether I was getting 3 for 2 or 1 for 1 or 2 for 4.
And then there is pretty much anything else you could ever not need. What? You didn't need the Our Lady of Lourdes pencil I got you? Figurine? Necklace?

Poncho? Umbrella? Candle? Scarf?

Cuckoo clock?

But as I made my way past the garish displays of opportunistic capitalism, I eventually arrived at the Sanctuary. And it was this that made it all worth it.

Since the apparitions themselves are not that old (1854), neither is the Basilica, which was constructed around the turn of the last century. But it has a timeless feel to it, and is certainly picturesque. At first when I went to the Grotto I was wandering around by myself at night, so there was no one there and I was wondering if I had found the right spot. It was nice, though, to get some solo time here, since later it would be filled to capacity with Italians.

The candlelight procession and Rosary was a very interesting thing to take part in. There was a huge crowd since I was there on Feb. 10th, the eve of the official feast day of Our Lady of Lourdes. It was nice to see all the people, especially the entire families.
The next day I woke up bright and early and had a very pleasant discovery at breakfast: all you can eat croissants + as much as you want café au lait/hot chocolate machine. You can just imagine my face when I saw this. Go ahead, imagine it. I made sure to eat as much as I possibly could. Croissants, baguettes, jam, butter, cheese, ham, yogurt, cereal...mmmmmm....
It was POURING down rain all day on the 11th. Not being the brightest crayon in the box, I had decided that I'd rather not carry around an umbrella all day. Then by the time I stepped outside and got completely soaked I decided that since I was already wet it wasn't really worth it to go back up and get it. So I spent most of the day trying not to get poked in the eye by middle-aged Italian women with heavy-duty umbrellas that were trying to protect their fur coats.
Since it was the feast day, there was a ton of stuff going on. I started at the "International Mass" which was amazing in terms of sheer numbers.

Were there any priests left in the rest of Europe?
There was an official welcoming and many of the pilgrim groups marched in with their own banners.
After the Mass I jetted over to the baths, following my mom's advice to make that the first thing on my list. My not having an umbrella gave me a boost of agility and I managed to get in line just outside the shelter, which soon I would be allowed under. I was next to a French woman who said I sounded Canadian when I spoke French and a lively group of Italian women. Most of the women, in fact, were Italian.

They were, on the whole, pretty rowdy. About every 5 minutes someone would accuse someone else of having cut in line, or ask if they could cut since they were sick, yell at someone for having let someone else cut, or yell at someone for not squeezing in as close as they could so that so-and-so didn't have to be in the rain. To pacify them all there was someone constantly saying the rosary and/or singing songs in Italian, but that would only work for about 10 minutes. On the bright side, they were hilarious and I almost completely learned the Hail Mary in Italian. It was much more fun than waiting for a ride at a theme park.
I was a bit nervous for the baths, since I didn't know at all what to expect. In fact, I had been quite skeptical and when I was planning my trip to Lourdes was considering not even doing them. I thought that since I didn't really have any physical infirmities that I should give my spot to someone else.
"What?!?", my mom had exclaimed, "you CAN'T go to Lourdes and not do the BATHS! Promise me that you'll do them!" So, of course, I had to fulfill my promise to my mom.
I'm so glad I did! Yes, it was still a little overwhelming. When I went into the changing room the woman assumed I was Italian and must have thought either I was very stubborn or really stupid since she had to keep repeating directions to me. Not wanting to reveal myself as American, I finally broke down and asked if she spoke Spanish, and then I had to tell her that no, I wasn't actually Spanish...and then we spoke in English.
When you go into the baths you are supposed to have an intention. To their credit, the people running the baths have everything so streamlined that things go fast while still doing their best to remind people that the water is not magical. They hand out little brochures about the symbolism of the water, the history of the baths, and why we shouldn't look to the water at Lourdes as a cure-all elixir. And, if you approach the atmosphere in a spirit of prayer, there is a lot you can get out of it.
I thought that since I was already soaked through to the bone that it wouldn't really be a big deal, but the water was shocking. Not necessarily shockingly cold, but it was indeed frigid. It was even more shocking than a trough of water in the Pyrenees in February should be. It was the kind of shocking that took away all of my abilities to do anything other than be led by the ladies working there. For about 10 seconds, I became an almost-invalid whose body barely responded to the signals to move and speak sent by her brain.
But afterwards I was even dryer than I had been before, and I also felt like my soul had received a jolt of expresso. There was no way I couldn't stop smiling. I wanted to dance on the rooftops, even though my clothes were wet and it was raining. I didn't care! I got a candle to light and then ran into some Americans from the Oblates of Mary Immaculate near St. Louis (Cardinal George's order!) who were filming one of their priests delivering a candle that had been made from lots of little candles people had sent in. One woman interviewed me and another took pictures of the priest giving me a blessing for their newsletter.

And then I scurried around earning my plenary indulgence (ha!). Since it was the feast day, the Jubilee way was open. You could follow a path painted on the sidewalk and go into the places where St. Bernadette had lived. It was fascinating to see what a mid-19th century farming home was like, including some of the tools they used, and then being able to see the placed the whole family lived after losing everything, which had previously been a jail cell. I also saw their parish church and the place where she was baptized.

I also saw the convent where St. Bernadette became a religious. I loved seeing her prayer book, the handkerchief she used to wear with some of her hair which had been cut off. It was just really interesting.
The thing that struck me the most in seeing all of these things was that she had really been just a little girl. There was a sign in the Cachot, the jail-cell house, saying that she said that all of these crazy things happened to her only because she was the most ignorant. And she did have a simple life, but the pictures of her reflect such beauty and innocence.