The Pilgrim Traveller: True Stories and Legends

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© 2014 Mary Elaine Friend. All Rights Reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 01/14/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8616-8 (e)

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Contents

Foreword

Lourdes: A Pilgrim’s first time

Japanese Flowering Cherry Tree

Israel: First Impressions

Sleepless in Rome

A Second Life

I climbed the Great Wall

A Second Life, Part 2

Confessions of a Leper

Overseas Filipino Worker: Australian Style

Living and Studying in NZ

Discovering Music in Paris

Japonisme in Giverny

Getting to Know Japan with Haikus

Siam Magic

Bali High

Road to the Blue Mountains

Carcassonne Dreaming

Fauvism in Collioure

Paris Fashion

C’est si Bon: Healthy Eating in France

Food Tasting in Barcelona

NZ Cuisine: a Taste for Diversity & Innovation

Diary of a Teenager in NZ

Chronicles of a Graduate in NZ

Memoirs of South Island, NZ

My Journey of Faith through Galilee

My Journey of Faith to Jerusalem

Traveling Back in Time

The Legend of the Blood Brothers

Bokavar, the Shawnee

When the Sea was kind

From Spain to Jaro: Nobles and Aristocrats

The Legend of the White Flower

The Ties that Bind

Bibliography

Acknowledgments

Foreword

Travelling to a new place is a passion my sister and I share. Over the past two decades, we’ve visited several countries we’ve dreamed of since we were kids. The thrill of meeting new people, tasting local food, exploring both old and new structures on a journey changed our outlook in life. Suddenly, there is a big world to explore and time is running out! When Elaine first began to write about our trips so that she will not forget our adventures, I encouraged her to pursue her dream of coming out with a travel book that will inspire and teach others as well.

The completion of this book is a tribute to her perseverance, great attention to details, creativity, and strong commitment to share her gift of writing to the world. Reading this book brought a warm smile to my face as I recalled the happy memories and unforgettable events of trips we’ve taken because we dared to pursue our dream of exploring the world we live in. I am so blessed to have a sister who has a great talent for writing which she generously shares to the world.

The journey has just begun.

—Joan Friend

Lourdes: A Pilgrim’s first time

It is our first night in Lourdes, France. From the open window of my hotel room, I could glimpse the tiny flickers of candle lights slowly moving in the dark. The church bells are pealing loud into the cold night. Then, I hear the chanting of ‘Ave, Ave, Ave Maria’ by a multitude of pilgrims.

I feel like I have gone back in time. Lourdes gives you that timeless feeling. Perhaps it is because the Catholic faith is fervently alive in this town—it is the central focus of life which, for me, is remarkable considering our modern, secular world.

As soon as I enter my room at La Solitude Hotel and see Van Gogh’s painting, Café Terrace on the Place du Forum, hanging on the wall over the bed, I begin to understand why no one comes to Lourdes by chance. How can I explain the coincidence of finding the exact reproduction of Van Gogh hanging in my own bedroom back home? It is no accident that I am here in Lourdes.

For three days, we hear an English mass every 9:00 am at the Chapel of St. Cosmos and St. Damian. The mass is concelebrated by a number of priests, and on the first day I have the honor of reading the Gospel before an audience of many nationalities – American, English, Indian, Filipino, Australian, Canadian, etc. The priests in Lourdes are very passionate about their Catholic faith, and by God’s grace they enlighten the pilgrims with wisdom in their homily. Fr. Marian, the resident chaplain, tells us that no one comes to Lourdes by chance. We are called by Our Lady with a message. It is up to us to discern that message.

Our Lady’s words to St. Bernadette still rings true today: Penitence and Conversion. Inspired by the sacrament of the Eucharist, my friends and I walk to the Reconciliation Chapel, where confession begins at 10 am every day. We sit down to meditate on our sins, guided by a leaflet on the Sacrament of Reconciliation that reads:

You have come to experience the Lord’s forgiveness and compassion. It is a very personal moment in your relationship with God. Sin is not merely a series of failures. It is also our sharing in what is actually evil: unbelief, indifference, selfishness, violence, contempt for the weak, eroticism, racism, neglect of the poor, money seeking, wastefulness, a spirit of pride and superiority. The call to reconciliation is part of the message of Lourdes.

At the heart of Lourdes is the Grotto of Massabielle. Like other pilgrims, we line up to get close to the miraculous spring which St. Bernadette unearthed in 1858. I allow a Croatian pilgrim to insert in line so that she could touch with her handkerchief the rocks of the Grotto. I feel a drop of water land on top of my head. No, it isn’t raining. It comes from the crevices of the rocks in the Grotto. ‘Blessing,’ says my friend Aida Gordon behind me. Seconds later, a drop of water lands on her shoulders. ‘Blessing,’ I say to her. Soon, we come to the blessed spring which is visible through a glass plate on the ground. It’s an incredible sight! My heart swells with joy and awe at this heavenly wonder on earth.

I have my heart set for the Baths but the next day my period arrives, making it impossible to bathe. So, we do the Water Walk instead, composed of several drinking fountains where one can wash or drink the same spring water, with biblical passages and prayers in each fountain. Despite the freezing weather and rain, my twin Joan and I decide to take photos of each fountain. I know it sounds silly but I want to bring home something from Lourdes, aside from water. I want to remember the quotes for future meditations.

The weather in Lourdes is strange, according to the resident priests. Where other parts of France are sunny and cool in the springtime, Lourdes remains cloudy, rainy and freezing cold. Despite this, every night we see many pilgrims, bundled up in winter clothes and carrying lighted candles, walk to the Rosary square for the Marian night time procession. The road to salvation isn’t easy, I thought, even for pilgrims.

We join them on our third night. How can I explain the feeling of belonging, of being with people who love God very much? A gathering of souls who are devoted to Mary, the Mother of God? Imagine the darkness, thousands of lighted candles, the chorus of Ave Maria and Salve Regina, the rosary recited in different languages, the moving silhouettes, and the cold rainy weather. In Lourdes, the pilgrims really storm the heavens with prayers, night and day. The Marian night procession is an experience of a lifetime.

We hear mass in French at the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception, built between 1862 and 1889. Sitting on the front pew, there’s no chance for us to admire the stain glass windows depicting the apparitions. The Basilica has only one nave, with many arches surrounding the altar and a tall, arch-shaped ceiling. Aside from the priest, only one man is singing during the mass, but his voice soars and echoes throughout the whole church. After the mass, the priest walks to an image of Our Lady of Lourdes on one side of the church, blesses it and everyone prays a Hail Mary and a short prayer to her. It is very touching, solemn.

The Rosary Basilica, beneath the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception and the crypt, contains all the fifteen mysteries of the Rosary in beautiful mosaics. Each mystery has its own altar, and I go to the Assumption altar to offer a rosary in thanksgiving for our birthday which falls on the Assumption. It is no coincidence either that my twin and I were born on this day.

Near the grotto are candle stands containing rows of lighted candles offered by pilgrims. I am struck by the words over the flames: This flame continues my prayer. If you ever wonder how heaven will feel like, you can almost imagine it in Lourdes. It is one of the few places on earth where God reigns first, where people of many races, and even religion, gather together in deep prayer and worship. As in any pilgrimage, it is not without sadness that one leaves such a holy place, but like the burning flames, it only takes a spark to invoke the spirit of God and the intercession of Our Lady.

Japanese Flowering Cherry Tree

My timing was perfect, even if the place was not as I imagined. How could two cities be so different yet share something so distinct as to make them like sisters in a family? There was no doubt in my mind that it was the cherry blossoms that created the illusion before me—an illusion of something Japanese, in a place as American as New York City. It was the annual Sakura Matsuri or cherry blossom festival at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden where more than 200 cherry trees were in full bloom. I remembered Japan because of the cherry trees.

In this shimmering spring day

Ah, with ever anxious heart

The blossoms are falling . . .

Ki no Tomonori

Japanese waka poet

What could be more joyful than this moment, when all the Japanese flowering cherry trees or Sakura were bursting with pale pink and white blossoms? I could see the delicate blossoms falling to the ground. Perhaps a gust of wind had shaken the trees and thrown the petals in the air. The scent of cherries drifted in the garden, blending like a symphony with the laughter of the people who posed under, besides or in front of the cherry trees.

The radiance of cherry blossoms

Their scent, ever fresh with every passing year,

So man grows old, eternally.

Ki no Tomonori

Japanese waka poet

Like any tourist, I admired the cherry blossoms for its aesthetic value, not knowing the Sakura symbolized something more profound to the Japanese. The falling leaves or blossoms are a metaphor for death in Buddhism. That’s because the Japanese compared the short life of a cherry blossom to the life of a samurai or warrior who was fully prepared to sacrifice his life in the cause of his master. In this sense, the samurai reminded me of a Christian martyr who was fully prepared to sacrifice his life in the cause of his faith in Jesus.

Myriads of things past

Are brought to my mind –

These cherry blossoms!

Basho Matsuo

Japanese haiku poet

A few days ago, we were