Guestblogger Karen writes:
My husband Chris and I just got back from the pilgrimage to World
Youth Day–what we were able to do of it anyway.
We decided that Saturday would be our "practice finding a parking
place and getting around" day. After having driven 6.5 hours just to
get there, we drove another few hours figuring out how to get the
closest to Marienfeld in Cologne.
Sure, there were designated parking areas and shuttle buses, but we
quickly found that we couldn’t access them. It turned out that all
neighboring villages were being completely blocked off, allowing for
only the people who lived there to have access to the roads.
Now I haven’t measured exactly yet, but this left us at a perimeter
that was a 2-hour walk away from our destination, Marienfeld. While
we were caught in traffic, we could see that we were near enough,
because pilgrims were being dropped off by buses in the same areas we
were scoping out.
They would walk by and wave to the cars stuck in the traffic with huge
smiles. This made it impossible to be in a bad mood over the traffic.
We decided to park in a village called Quadrath-Ichendorf, and we
walked as briskly as we could to Marienfeld, just to get an idea of
how fast we could get there in case we came back Sunday (which was our
plan). Like I said, this was a 2-hour walk. When we went through the
village Horrem, pilgrims were everywhere–on bikes, marching down the
streets with guitars and drums and flags.
192 Countries
One of the first things that struck us was the high and friendly
spirit. We walked by signs that said, "Welcome, Pilgrims". Other
kid-pilgrims just kept smiling and waving. Flags were everywhere.
Later I learned that 192 nations were represented. I couldn’t believe
the corners of the Earth these people came from for this, but I was so
glad they did.
Some groups walked and sang their native hymns while a few strummed
their guitars, and the sound was fantastic. I don’t mean those crummy
modern Church-Barney-the-dinosaur "I’m okay, you’re okay" crud songs
or anything pop-sounding. They played serious music.
One group I thought must be from Spain, but they turned out to be from
Brooklyn. They were singing an energetic Spanish-sounding song and
that’s the first time of many I felt just overcome with the magnitude
of this event and the spirit.
It was like I was seeing the whole world in one place, and The World
was HAPPY. Koreans, Africans, Indians, Australians, Canadians, you
name it, they were there. Later I came to know that one million
people were expected to pour in each day.
We followed the stream of people, which eventually (1.5 hours later)
led us to Marienfeld. That’s when I realized what an incomprehensible
number 1 million was, at least when measuring people. The aerial
views that I saw later on television just kept panning and panning,
but there was no end to the people.
Chris and I decided that since it took us so long to get there, we
would stay for the prayer vigil with Pope Benedict, starting at 8:30
PM. It got noticeably darker, which made it difficult to get good
Pope Pics. Also we were very far away, so I had to zoom the best I
could with my camera and be content with the pope looking like a
little blurry ant anyway.
We sat on our little spot while other pilgrims laid the foundation for
their tents (most stayed the night in that field) and ate what little
they could fit in their backpacks. I would feel so sorry for some of
them–they were really roughing it, but they seemed to be having a
great time.
We took numerous videos and pictures–flags waving, nuns walking,
priest-leaders standing out on the road yelling into a cell phone and
waving to whoever in the distance got lost from their group. There
was a side stage way off in the distance, where musicians played and
opera singers sang. Speakers were set up everywhere so we could hear
comfortably.
We didn’t know at the time, but they would have the events for each
language translated on several different radio stations. So if we
wanted to hear the prayers in English, we could have tuned to 95.5 FM
or whatever it was. We did okay, though–knowing German and English
set us ahead of most pilgrims.
Finally about a half an hour beforehand, it was announced that the
Holy Father was on his way to Marienfeld. I suspected he’d have been
on the helicopter above, but he actually arrived in the popemobile. I
sensed he was there because of the crowd, and then saw him on one of
the large screens.
The crowd was WILD. There was (I think) an original World Youth Day
musical composition being played, and everyone who had a flag was
waving them up high. Thousands of flags everywhere. You don’t see
something this powerful anywhere, not even at the Olympics. Although
they waved different flags, they were waving as one people–Catholics.
The flags were more of a "Greetings from…", not a pride point.
Seeing something like this gave us a feeling of being transported into
some ideal world. You just can’t imagine it from watching it on TV.
Papa Benedict blessed all of us, a familiar move, but it’s different
when you’re actually there receiving the blessing. When you get
blessed like that, you feel as if that’s what you’ve wanted all your
life.
Then he went a little ways down the hill where they’d placed a large
bell, and he blessed it and dedicated it to Pope John Paul II, who was
palpably there with us in spirit. I’d even say I felt Peter, the
first pope, there with us! You look at this little dot-pope in front
of you and feel connected to the ages.
Chris and I did cheat a little and try just for a spell, to get
closer. That didn’t help our pictures any, as it became quite dark by
then.
Benedict speaks German very clearly and understandably. Much later I
heard him in English, and his accent is cute as can be. He speaks
what you might call with a stereotypical German accent. "You, zee
youss off zee Verld…" (You, the youth of the world). I wanted to
hear him speak English, maybe because I knew it would be so charming.
One thing of note about Benedict–he smiles constantly. He is as
charmed as you are by him. He is one CUTE pope. I could tell that he
was as overcome as I was. How he still kept it together enough to get
on with things, I don’t know.
Chris and I, thinking that we’d get four hours of sleep and come back
for the Mass on Sunday (at 10:30 AM), decided to head out earlier than
we wanted to, and drive to Heinsberg. We had another 2-hour walk
ahead of us just to get to the car.
About a mile and a half from our car, I, Karen, went completely lame.
I could have walked further if it hadn’t been for my feet, which felt
like knives were stabbing through the heels. Chris had to part with
me at a gas station and go get the car, and pick me up.
Anyway we finally got back to Heinsberg and slept like rocks. My cell
phone woke us up at 5 AM, but Chris and I ached all over.
Unfortunately, we did not make it to the Mass–I particularly was in
real pain and even three Ibuprofen didn’t dull it enough. BUT, we
don’t dwell on this. Not after what we did manage to do!
We watched the Mass on television. With some imagination, we were
"there" again, at the Mass. I had some more "wow" moments watching
it, and I knew that Cologne wasn’t far away anyway.
We packed up and left for home, still feeling somewhat like we only
had one foot on the ground. We still feel like that!