Sunday, February 5, 2012

Overnight to Lourdes

I went to Lourdes because of a promise to my mother. Lourdes was a site of miracles for my family. My grandfather lost his fingers to a grenade. Prior to the division of Vietnam, he worked for Emperor Bao Dai and it was at a meeting with Prince Sianouk of Cambodia that the grenade exploded in his hand, shielding the rest of the company from harm. At Lourdes, he prayed for safety and recovery prior to the necessary hand surgery. His wish was granted and he promptly converted from Buddhism to Catholicism.

My godmother Catherine, my namesake, was diagnosed with metastic breast cancer at the age of forty-two. Even though she passed from this life only two years later, Lourdes was the inevitable place where she made peace with her regrets and her past mistakes. When she bathed in pools of holy water that washed infirmities from the bodies of so many pilgrims, my mother noted that Aunt Catherine looked serene for the first time since diagnosis.

Thus, I took the overnight train from Paris to Lourdes, in the couchette. Hearing rumors of vicious and relentless pickpocketing on trains, I kept my possessions close to my chest. Despite my paranoia, I fell into a deep slumber and relied on my "poor student" exterior to ward off any potential attacks. It worked, or maybe it was because I didn't really own anything worth stealing. I'll never know.

The train dropped us off in the dark at around 4:30am. A glib French Nigerian woman insisted she knew exactly where my guesthouse was, and I wound up dragging my luggage uphill and downhill around town, retracing our footsteps twice before she realized she was lost. Actually, she did look rather sinister although I did not notice in shadowy confines of the train. In broad daylight, she seemed an African witch with treacherously thick eyebrows and gaudy shawls, ready to cast a spell on any unsuspecting passerby.

There was a central shrine area populated by a community of churches and cathedrals. A dazzling basilica was built in proximity to the grotto where the apparition appeared. Perspiring and exhausted, I pulled my luggage into the nearest pew of basilica for six o clock mass. I knelt down and lowered my head, except I did not know what to pray for.

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