The Pilgrim Traveller: True Stories and Legends

By Mary Elaine Friend

This book is a collection of inspirational travel stories that span seventeen years of travel by the author, including human interest stories of people she interviewed. In a special chapter of Traveling Back in Time, it also includes stories of genealogy and legends. While tracing her multiracial ancestry, Mary Elaine uncovered legends and stories associated with her family tree and realized that although unique, the values and lessons are universal. Every family has a story waiting to be uncovered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Dec 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491885246

Mary Elaine Friend

Mary Elaine Friend is a freelance travel writer and a real estate broker based in the Philippines. Writing and travelling are her passions. She finished a Freelance Travel Writing and Photography Course with the Australian College of Journalism in 1998. Her published article, "Overseas Filipino Workers: Australian Style," won the Australian Ambassador's Choice Award in the Australian-New Zealand Chamber of Commerce of the Philippines (ANZCHAM) Journalism Awards in 1999. In 2001, her published article, "Living and Studying in NZ," won the New Zealand Award in the ANZCHAM Philippines Journalism Awards in 2001. In 2004, she took up a course on Writing for Children and Teenagers with the Institute of Children's Literature in CT., USA.

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Lourdes: A Pilgrim’s

first time

It is our first night in Lourdes, France. From the open window of my hotel room, I could glimpse the tiny flickers of candle lights slowly moving in the dark. The church bells are pealing loud into the cold night. Then, I hear the chanting of ‘Ave, Ave, Ave Maria’ by a multitude of pilgrims.

I feel like I have gone back in time. Lourdes gives you that timeless feeling. Perhaps it is because the Catholic faith is fervently alive in this town—it is the central focus of life which, for me, is remarkable considering our modern, secular world.

As soon as I enter my room at La Solitude Hotel and see Van Gogh’s painting, Café Terrace on the Place du Forum, hanging on the wall over the bed, I begin to understand why no one comes to Lourdes by chance. How can I explain the coincidence of finding the exact reproduction of Van Gogh hanging in my own bedroom back home? It is no accident that I am here in Lourdes.

For three days, we hear an English mass every 9:00 am at the Chapel of St. Cosmos and St. Damian. The mass is concelebrated by a number of priests, and on the first day I have the honor of reading the Gospel before an audience of many nationalities—American, English, Indian, Filipino, Australian, Canadian, etc. The priests in Lourdes are very passionate about their Catholic faith, and by God’s grace they enlighten the pilgrims with wisdom in their homily. Fr. Marian, the resident chaplain, tells us that no one comes to Lourdes by chance. We are called by Our Lady with a message. It is up to us to discern that message.

Our Lady’s words to St. Bernadette still rings true today: Penitence and Conversion. Inspired by the sacrament of the Eucharist, my friends and I walk to the Reconciliation Chapel, where confession begins at 10 am every day. We sit down to meditate on our sins, guided by a leaflet on the Sacrament of Reconciliation that reads:

You have come to experience the Lord’s forgiveness and compassion. It is a very personal moment in your relationship with God. Sin is not merely a series of failures. It is also our sharing in what is actually evil: unbelief, indifference, selfishness, violence, contempt for the weak, eroticism, racism, neglect of the poor, money seeking, wastefulness, a spirit of pride and superiority. The call to reconciliation is part of the message of Lourdes.

At the heart of Lourdes is the Grotto of Massabielle. Like other pilgrims, we line up to get close to the miraculous spring which St. Bernadette unearthed in 1858. I allow a Croatian pilgrim to insert in line so that she could touch with her handkerchief the rocks of the Grotto. I feel a drop of water land on top of my head. No, it isn’t raining. It comes from the crevices of the rocks in the Grotto. ‘Blessing,’ says my friend Aida Gordon behind me. Seconds later, a drop of water lands on her shoulders. ‘Blessing,’ I say to her. Soon, we come to the blessed spring which is visible through a glass plate on the ground. It’s an incredible sight! My heart swells with joy and awe at this heavenly wonder on earth.

I have my heart set for the Baths but the next day my period arrives, making it impossible to bathe. So, we do the Water Walk instead, composed of several drinking fountains where one can wash or drink the same spring water, with biblical passages and prayers in each fountain. Despite the freezing weather and rain, my twin Joan and I decide to take photos of each fountain. I know it sounds silly but I want to bring home something from Lourdes, aside from water. I want to remember the quotes for future meditations.

The weather in Lourdes is strange, according to the resident priests. Where other parts of France are sunny and cool in the springtime, Lourdes remains cloudy, rainy and freezing cold. Despite this, every night we see many pilgrims, bundled up in winter clothes and carrying lighted candles, walk to the Rosary square for the Marian night time procession. The road to salvation isn’t easy, I thought, even for pilgrims.

We join them on our third night. How can I explain the feeling of belonging, of being with people who love God very much? A gathering of souls who are devoted to Mary, the Mother of God? Imagine the darkness, thousands of lighted candles, the chorus of Ave Maria and Salve Regina, the rosary recited in different languages, the moving silhouettes, and the cold rainy weather. In Lourdes, the pilgrims really storm the heavens with prayers, night and day. The Marian night procession is an experience of a lifetime.

We hear mass in French at the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception, built between 1862 and 1889. Sitting on the front pew, there’s no chance for us to admire the stain glass windows depicting the apparitions. The Basilica has only one nave, with many arches surrounding the altar and a tall, arch-shaped ceiling. Aside from the priest, only one man is singing during the mass, but his voice soars and echoes throughout the whole church. After the mass, the priest walks to an image of Our Lady of Lourdes on one side of the church, blesses it and everyone prays a Hail Mary and a short prayer to her. It is very touching, solemn.

The Rosary Basilica, beneath the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception and the crypt, contains all the fifteen mysteries of the Rosary in beautiful mosaics. Each mystery has its own altar, and I go to the Assumption altar to offer a rosary in thanksgiving for our birthday which falls on the Assumption. It is no coincidence either that my twin and I were born on this day.

Near the grotto are candle stands containing rows of lighted candles offered by pilgrims. I am struck by the words over the flames: This flame continues my prayer. If you ever wonder how heaven will feel like, you can almost imagine it in Lourdes. It is one of the few places on earth where God reigns first, where people of many races, and even religion, gather together in deep prayer and worship. As in any pilgrimage, it is not without sadness that one leaves such a holy place, but like the burning flames, it only takes a spark to invoke the spirit of God and the intercession of Our Lady.

Japanese Flowering

Cherry Tree

My timing was perfect, even if the place was not as I imagined. How could two cities be so different yet share something so distinct as to make them like sisters in a family? There was no doubt in my mind that it was the cherry blossoms that created the illusion before me—an illusion of something Japanese, in a place as American as New York City. It was the annual Sakura Matsuri or cherry blossom festival at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden where more than 200 cherry trees were in full bloom. I remembered Japan because of the cherry trees.

In this shimmering spring day

Ah, with ever anxious heart

The blossoms are falling . . .

Ki no Tomonori

Japanese waka poet

What could be more joyful than this moment, when all the Japanese flowering cherry trees or Sakura were bursting with pale pink and white blossoms? I could see the delicate blossoms falling to the ground. Perhaps a gust of wind had shaken the trees and thrown the petals in the air. The scent of cherries drifted in the garden, blending like a symphony with the laughter of the people who posed under, besides or in front of the cherry trees.

The radiance of cherry blossoms

Their scent, ever fresh with every passing year,

So man grows old, eternally.

Ki no Tomonori

Japanese waka poet

Like any tourist, I admired the cherry blossoms for its aesthetic value, not knowing the Sakura symbolized something more profound to the Japanese. The falling leaves or blossoms are a metaphor for death in Buddhism. That’s because the Japanese compared the short life of a cherry blossom to the life of a samurai or warrior who was fully prepared to sacrifice his life in the cause of his master. In this sense, the samurai reminded me of a Christian martyr who was fully prepared to sacrifice his life in the cause of his faith in Jesus.

Myriads of things past

Are brought to my mind—

These cherry blossoms!

Basho Matsuo

Japanese haiku poet

A few days ago, we were at the Sensō-ji Temple, in Asakusa, Tokyo, Japan where I noticed the cherry blossoms within the courtyard of the famous Buddhist Temple. My foster mother and friend, Yachiyo Moriwaki, explained to me about the cherry tree. Although Japanese, she was born in the Philippines and knew my Catholic faith.

Those are not real anymore but made of plastic, she said. They are there all year round so that people could hang their prayer petitions under the trees. We don’t have a mass like you do. We don’t worship a God like you do.

Yes, I did notice several sheets of paper (with characters on it) hanging under the shade of the cherry trees. It was something that even I could relate to. The scene reminded me of how the Jews inserted prayer petitions between the crevices of the Western Wall in Jerusalem. Even Catholics have prayer petitions thru lighted candles or written paper that are burned after praying.

From a Buddhist’s perspective, however, the cherry tree is a deity and each petal of cherry blossom is a person who sacrifices himself for a certain mission or ideal. For them, it is as simple as the flower will wither, the warrior will die, and the world will fade away.

The rains poured down as we sat to eat our bento lunch underneath a large tent. Surrounded by cherry trees, I understood how people see the world from the perspective of their own faith but regardless of faith, I sensed the connection of mankind to nature and to a higher power above. Yes, immortality was never meant for man on earth but how beautiful it is to know that we have a purpose to strive for. We could live well at the moment with eternal spring in our heart.

This year on, forever,

It’s all gravy to me now-

Spring arrives.

Issa, Japanese haiku poet

Israel: First Impressions

The time is near. It is midnight as the El Al Israel plane touches down Ben Gurion airport amid the joyous singing and clapping of the Israelis on board.

"Shalom… shalom!" They sing in a chorus. Our journey to the Holy Land begins with a Hebrew song.

This is our first trip to Israel. What is an encounter with the people of God of the Old Testament like? Amazing! The olive skin, green eyes and dark hair combination of young Israelis are strikingly attractive. Inside the plane, they gather together as soon as the fasten your seatbelt light goes off. I remember the divine origin of this race in the bible. They are Israelites, to them belong the patriarchs, and of their race, according to the flesh, is the Christ. (Romans 9:5)

Today, Israel is made up of diverse cultural groups—Lithuanians, Moroccans, Yemenites, Poles, Germans, Turks, Russians, Americans and Ethiopians, who constitute the Jewish community; and the Palestinians, Bedouins and Druzes, who make up the non-Jewish community. How can one begin to describe a place where the