Have you ever seen a nun run?

The Pope really is a celebrity in his own right. Sure he doesn’t star in movies or slam guitars at concerts, but he draws quite a large crowd and all his fans are diehard. But before I go any farther, let’s start from the beginning.

My morning began very early on Sunday…3:30 am early. The Pope, who had been in France for the past week, was presiding over mass at Lourdes, a small town near the Spanish boarder. Lourdes has been an important pilgrimage site ever since the Virgin Mary appeared to a young girl named Bernadette 150 years ago. From what I understand, the girl converted on the spot and began telling people about her vision (who can blame her?); the shrine and cathedral soon followed. This year marks the 150 year anniversary of the miracle and the Pope made a special trip to this holy site to celebrate the occasion, as did every practicing Catholic in a 200 mile radius. As practicing Catholics, my host family was among the pilgrims and I, being their guest, had an invitation to join them. How could I resist?

We arrived in Lourdes around 6:00 in the morning and began our trek to the field where mass was to be held. As we began our pilgrimage from the train station, I couldn’t help but think it was best for everyone I never memorized the opening lines of Chaucer’s Prologue to the Canterbury Tales. If it had been readily accessible in my mind, I would have had no choice but to greet the dawn with a little Middle English mood poetry.

Once we reached our designated fenced in area, we settled in for a breakfast of croissants and coffee – a Sunday must in my host family. Soon after we had finished, the crowd’s anticipation began to mount and finally burst into elation with the arrival of the Pope in his pope-mobile (it’s honestly a pretty sweet ride). After circling the crowd, he made his way to the front where he led mass. Several hours later the service ended and we were left to our own devices. Everyone’s primary objective at this point was lunch. Growing up in the Bible Belt, I wasn’t expecting everyone to pull out their bottles of liquor and wine...but this is France. Our group served an aperitif – a sweet liquor of some sort (or really, it can be anything as long as it has alcohol in it) served before a meal to get your appetite up and running – while the group next to us pulled out the bottles of wine they had brought. Our lunch consisted of ham, cheese, and butter on a baguette sandwiches (classic French), carrots, chips, and apples, which when combined with the aperitif made me feel very French.

The rest of the afternoon was spent visiting the shrine where Bernadette saw the Virgin Mary, visiting the cathedral build to commemorate the vision, and just walking around Lourdes. Around 6:00 we went back to the site where mass was held to watch a procession of some sort. Most people had left by this point, so it was a lot less strict and we had our choice of where to stand. It was at this point when I witnessed a spider crawl down the pants of the woman in front of me. What could I do? How do you even go about saying in French, “Excuse me ma’am, but I believe a spider just crawled down your pants”? I felt obligated to inform her of the unfortunate incident, but had neither the words nor the desire to act it out. Charades were never my thing anyway.

While I was turning my moral dilemma over in my mind, an unexpected thing occurred. We had stationed ourselves toward the very back of the area near the road, and while most in our group moved about the area freely, I leaned against the back fence, keeping an eye on our bags. Suddenly I heard the crowd scream, and when I turned around, who do you think was there but the Pope?! Yes, the Pope decided to make a surprise visit and my positioning put me no more than 5 feet away from his pope-mobile. When I turned back around, I saw a crowd of people rushing the fence, right where I happened to be standing. Suddenly all those horror stories I’ve heard about people being trampled at concerts, parades, riots, etc. flashed in my mind and I began to fear for my life. I turned back to face the Pope hoping that if things got ugly, he would intervene, and braced myself for impact. Two or three zealous Spanish girls slammed into me first. They began shouting “Esta-est! Viva la Papa!” and with each word they screamed, they pushed a bit closer toward the road. The problem was, I was between them and the fence, and the fence was between me and the Pope. A word of advice: never, ever get between fanatical Spanish girls and the pope. Nothing short of divine intervention saved me from certain death Sunday afternoon at the hands of Pope fans.

Once the pope had passed, the crowd dissipated – some to chase after the pope-mobile, others to watch from a safe distance. As the pope made his way to the front, I could still hear the same girls screaming “Esta-est! Viva la Papa!” as they chased him around the circumference of the field.

Sometimes late at night, I can still hear their chilling cries…

For more pictures from Lourdes, click here.