MONDAY, July 14, 2008

WORLD YOUTH DAY
Each day was a new adventure, so we shall take this one day at a time…

That morning we were up and off fairly early in the morning, getting, for the first time to use our pilgrim passes which allowed us free public transportation (that sure was nice!). We set off to the city and as we rode on the bus, John Paul played his guitar and we sang songs, which I am pretty sure annoyed some of the bus riders. But let’s face it: we were just trying to break them in for the rest of the week!

The idea was to go to Circular Quay and join the Journey of the Cross and Icon there as it made its last leg of the trip through Sydney. However, we got there a bit late, and we didn’t actually know where we were going to meet up with it, but as soon as we got off the bus and walked around the corner, there was stream of people walking right down one of the middle streets of Sydney, and the Cross and Icon were right amidst them! It was perfect timing. As we walked down Pitt Street, around 12noon on a Monday, the office workers were lining the streets, looking out windows, standing in doorways, all filled with wonder, or scorn, or joy, or pride, or curiosity at the hundreds (maybe thousands) of international pilgrims who had already flooded the city and were now making such a ruckus about two pieces of wood and a picture. I saw one boy standing on a bench and jumping up and down waving at everyone who walked past: he looked like he could use a bit of Jesus in his life. I hope the week did something for him!

It was beautiful to see the smiles that began to light people’s faces - people who, for months had heard of this World Youth Day, this event which would make their daily commutes an inconvenience and keep them locked in their homes at night. I think it was at that point that many of our on-lookers began to see just what WYD was all about, and realized they didn’t actually mind so much.

O, and remember those rosaries I was making to hand out? I had them hanging out of my backpack because if I didn’t, how were they going to stay untangled? Well, on our little walk behind the Cross and Icon I was stopped by a reporter who interviewed me about them! I was mentioned in the paper that Wednesday as “the girl from Indianapolis”. Sweet!

We followed the cross to a park near Central Station where there was prayer, song, and veneration, and Rachel and I took off to meet the others over by St. Mary’s Cathedral. We walked all around the Cathedral, meandered through Hyde Park, and then walked down to Darling Harbor, in search of the team, but it was a bit hopeless with so many people milling around. I met a few Americans - that’s because I was proudly parading the streets with my mini-flag in hand. We also met a few boys from New Zealand…so many people and languages and countries everywhere! It was really exciting. And it was only Monday! WYD hadn’t even started!

We made our way home in time for a rehearsal for catechesis…what a stress that whole ordeal was. Not just the rehearsals but the actual days of catechesis themselves. I can honestly say that it was my worst and least favorite part of WYD, and that I would not willingly go through the process again. However, that is a matter not to mentioned much, and in as positive a manner as possible.

After all our agony over the music, etc., a few of us who had the energy (or just needed to get out of the house and away from the team…) went down to Hyde Park around 11:30, where a small gathering of people was waiting to see the WYD countdown clock change over to 0 days to go - it was so exciting! Quite a few of my friends were there, so it was a nice change to the pace of the evening, and just before midnight, we all counted down from 10, 9, 8... And at 12am, it changed from saying “1 day to go” to saying “G’day!” It was so unexpected, I just jumped for joy and screamed! WYD was finally here! All that we had been working for, all the effort we had put in was finally coming to its fulfillment, and what a better way to welcome it all than with Australia’s own welcoming phrase! For the rest of the week, the sign stood reading “G’day Pilgrims!” You know, when I first arrived here there were 366 days to go. What a sight to see that it was here!
Well, you would think I would end the day here by saying we went home and had a good night’s sleep before the real WYD began, but that is not how the day ended. In fact, much more was to happen before we would see the dawn of July 15th.

We made our way back to Central Station, wondering if we would be able to catch a bus home at that hour, and as we arrived and were greeted by a few others going our same way, the timetable read, to our dismay, that there were no more busses for the evening. Well, it wasn’t too much of a problem for us, since a few people had stayed at home: one of them could just come pick us up! No worries. Until…

Out of Central Station came a large group of Papua New Guineans, affectionately called the PNGs. There were about 30 of them in the group, and they too were heading out towards the Eastern Suburbs, where they were staying for the week, just one suburb away from ours! That meant they would need some alternative mode of transportation as well if the bus wasn’t coming…we looked at each other, the impossible solution crossing our minds, but all of us knowing it would have to be so: we would have to give them a ride, and that would take several trips. However a small miracle occurred - out of nowhere, a bus appeared…a bus we referred to as the “mystery bus” or the “ghost bus”. We thought everything was solved! However, the bus driver would not let all the pilgrims on with all their bags, so on went the pilgrims, but left on the curb were about 60 pieces of PNG luggage. Two trips later the luggage was delivered at their site of accommodation - could have been worse making those trips with people!

But speaking of people, you might be wondering what happened next, because see, the bus didn’t actually go to the exact location they were heading towards, just in the general vicinity. Rather than making them walk the distance, a few of people went with them and got them off just near our house, where we began using a few cars to shuttle them back to the church at which they were staying. By this point, it was about 2am. However, there was this new spirit keeping all of us awake - on this, I speak for myself, but I’m sure the others would agree. We had been very tired, exhausted really, and greatly looking forward to flopping into bed, but until those who were in need of a bed received one, we would not rest either.

It took a while, but around 3am, we were finally done with our transport, and so much were we filled with our 2nd winds that we stuck around for a few minutes to chat with the pilgrims. One of the pilgrims, when we had gotten in the car I was driving, had been wearing a little bush around his neck…it smelled a bit strange, and I wondered how he got it through customs, but there it was none the less. I asked a few questions about it, like what was it called, and if I could remember the big word he said, I would tell you. But the beautiful thing about it was, that whatever its significance for this man, at the end of the car ride, he took it off and offered to me. I wore it with pride for the rest of the night! Then, just before we left to finally go home, he came up and told me his name was Clement and asked me if he could have my address. There are a few beautiful things about this request, the main one being that I realized he wanted my address because there was no other mode of communication where he was from. All they can do is write and receive letters, and that probably isn’t the quickest of processes, either.

That made me think about something else though: these people, who had nothing but pen and paper to use to communicate with the world, had somehow made their way to Sydney, Australia to join the world in a celebrate of their faith. Some of them had probably saved for 3 years just to have enough for their airfare. I later read a newspaper article about the trouble these pilgrims had with their passports and visas, and then with flights to and from PNG, and that tells nothing of the trouble these poor people had getting around Australia, some of which I was a first-hand witness. Yet despite it all, their spirits were not dampened, and I‘m sure the experience they had is one they will remember for the rest of their lives: they will tell these stories for years to come. It was so special to see the simplicity and joy with which these people had come to WYD, and to be a small part of the their pilgrim experience was a true blessing for me.

As I snuggled into my bed that night, even though I knew only a few hours of sleep lay ahead of me, I was sure that any fatigue I would feel would be outweighed by the richness of such a night well spent. If this was the beginning, what treasures lay in store for the rest of the week!