One memory I have of being surrounded by tens of thousands of people happened when Pope John Paul II was traveling around in the popemobile the night before he said mass. I thought I wrote it in the journal but cannot find it.
People were freaking out in excitement about the approach of the pope.
Brian said, "Is this the pope or Elvis?"
A seminarian near us said, "Better than Elvis!"
Saturday, August 19
6:04 p.m.
We made it to our spot at Universite Tor Vergata before six p.m. We left the "country club" [the nickname for our campground at Castelfusano] after 9:30 a.m. this morning. Our subway arrived at our stop around 11.
Instead of beginning our hike, groups were delayed along the road to make a staggered start. We stood with our backpacks on and slowly crept forward. A flagpole cast a shadow across a grassy area near the station and a group of Africans lay on the grass in the pole's narrow shadow. Smart people. Shade would become a scarce commodity.
The start was slow, but with plenty of water. Pallets of bottled water stood by the slide of the road, and fittingly, one large water stop was next to a Roman aqueduct.
The generous amounts of water, as well as people on streets spraying water from garden hoses, made water fights inevitable. Those caught in the crossfire occasionally got pissed off. Including a Finnish (I think) guitar player who shouted.
He began yelling at people who splashed water among the crowd of Catholics, saying if they wanted to throw water, they should be willing to pay for his guitar. Throughout the trip, we joked about "guitar guy" and spotted him several times during the hike. He had a guitar case.
By the time we reached Tor Vergata, however, Guitar guy started to make sense. This was in between being sprayed by water from the same spigots that supplied our water. Because we could barely move single file down the roads, we all got sprayed, hot or not.
Other kind pilgrims gave us water bottles filled with cool water or filled empty water bottles for us.
These were the same roads buses traveled too [at Tor Vergata]. Brian, a veteran of many Grateful Dead and Phish concerts, said no lanes were designated for buses, and people traveled around in cars, not golf carts. The worst outdoor concert he had seen did not compare to it.
The ambulances had to compete with people on roads when they were not on sidewalks, blaring their Tarzan yell sirens, drivers honking their horns quickly in a staccato fashion. Many of us carried two-liter bottles of water because we were uncertain if any would be at our site. Combined with our backpacks, it was a heavy load. And then the group that left at 10 a.m. showed up behind us.
I lacked a lot of the enthusiasm of pilgrims. Fr. Dan said, "Praise to Jesus!" upon arriving near our designated camp.
I said, "That's open to interpretation."
After finding an open space, I dropped my torn plastic bag of food and water, relieved to let it go without fear of being trampled. I remained bent over for a moment and Joe turned suddenly and his backpack hit me in the head.
I have never been so happy to have a seat in the back in my life.
I was invited to join evening prayer with some of the seminarians. I declined. A seminarian had seen me writing and I talked about the "hellish Bataan death march" we endured.
But it will all be worth it, he said.
One of them offered to carry my plastic bag filled with water earlier on our march. I thanked him [I think I declined].
Maybe it wasn't a priest recruiting drive. Seminarians and chaperons prayed together.
7:30 p.m.
The crowd just cheered as the pope begins to enter after getting off the pope chopper. I can see a big-screen TV, but it's partially blocked as everyone looks at the popemobile move along the screen.
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