I suppose I ought to finish detailing this trip, especially before I forget it.  At my age, the memory just isn’t what it used to be.

After the closing Mass with the Holy Father, how could WYD possibly top itself?  Simple: it couldn’t.  It was over.  The location of the next gathering – Panama – had been announced, and now it was time to go home and change the world.  The problem facing us was actually getting home.

As I’ve mentioned, Kraków is a city of only about 900,000 people, and WYD dropped an estimated 2.7 million into the city.  The airport is not at all large.  It has 5, maybe 6 baggage claims; a small-ish terminal, and only one runway, which is not super long.  Long story short, it can’t handle a lot of flights, nor could it handle substituting larger planes for the normal ones that fly into there.  So flying out of Kraków would probably not be our best option.  And in fact, our travel agent had planned accordingly: we were booked out of another city.  I was just surprised as to which one.

Budapest.

Budapest, of course, is the capital of Hungary, and is allegedly one of the more beautiful cities in Central Europe…but it’s not exactly close to Kraków.  In fact, there’s another entire country between Poland and Hungary – Slovakia.  But what was done, was done – we were flying out of Budapest, so we had to get there.  Once again, we were up early – would we ever get a break – and on to the busses.  This time, though, was a little more stressful, because we had to be sure we had everything with us.  We were leaving Poland for good.  We had one final breakfast at the hotel, and then it was time to hit the road.  We were tired and kind of sad to be going, and the day matched our moods perfectly:  It was gray and rainy as we left.  Needless to say, the bus was pretty quiet as we started down the road: most if us chose to go back to sleep.  (Full disclosure: I had my noise-cancelling headphones on; that bus was going to be quiet anyway.)

There was some concern we would have to stop at the border for outbound passport control, but that wasn’t an issue.  The Polish-Slovakian border was open for those of us exiting Poland; it was only closed for people coming into Poland.  We stopped anyway at a gas station shortly before the border to get snacks and drinks and to convert our remaining Polish zloty into euros or dollars.  The break woke everyone back up, and the busses got a little rowdier.  We had acquired a new tour guide that morning, but it was pretty evident that once we crossed the border into Slovakia, she didn’t have much to tell us.  Thankfully, someone had a DVD copy of the movie Karol, on the life of Saint Pope John Paul II, so we got that going and the bus quieted a bit.

We never got to finish the movie, so I’ll need to get a copy of it later.  Besides, I was pretty distracted the entire time by what was outside my window.  Even when it was gray and rainy, it was pretty awesome.  We were initially traveling through the foothills of the Tautra mountains, and it was beautiful.  As we entered Slovakia, the sun began to emerge, and the terrain started to level out, and we started to go through a more agrarian area.  I think what made the drive more scenic was the simple fact that we weren’t on some kind of a super-highway.  And maybe that was for the best.  I mean, I-70 will get to you to Columbus pretty quickly, but it’s boring.  US-40 will take longer, but you at least see some stuff.  This drive was like the latter and not the former.  I enjoyed it.

Eventually – and it took most of the day – we arrived in Budapest and acquired a local tour guide.  He was really good, in that he knew a lot of stuff and was able to communicate it well, but I think he was pretty exasperated with our group simply for arriving so late and not staying very long.  I shared his frustration, because Budapest really IS a beautiful city and has a complex and fascinating history.  I think, to do the city any kind of Justice, you need a good three days to take it in.  We had only a few hours.

We ended our tour at a local church, which was gracious enough to let us have Mass there.  The parish priest showed up to are sure we could find everything we needed, which led to some comedy in the sacristy: he didn’t speak any English, and we didn’t speak any Hungarian.  A combination of pointing, hand gestures, and Latin made it work.  After Mass, we went to our new hotel, dropped our bags, and had one last dinner together as a group.  the food was good, but there were no traditional Hungarian dishes being offered.  Probably not easily done when trying to feed a group of just over 100 people, especially a group that was running late, but still.  I couldn’t get to bed early enough, because the next morning would, once again, come early.

It’s a lovely Friday morning in Washington.  This weekend is shaping up to be pretty normal – Mass and confessions tomorrow morning, a wedding tomorrow afternoon, helping with confessions at a Confirmation retreat at another parish that night, and my usual 2 Masses on Sunday.  Nothing that I haven’t done before.  But LAST weekend…well, that was something else.

Once again, our day started far too early.  (For the record, it could have started at 10, and I would have considered it far too early.)  The plan for the day was to go to Mass that morning and then head directly to the Campus Misericordiae for the Vigil.  But in order to do that, we would not be able to return to the hotel, so we had to take everything with us.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

First things first: we had breakfast and then hopped on the bus.  We went back to the arena that we were at a few nights previously.  Mass this morning was specifically for the pilgrims from the US, and was concelebrated by most of the US bishops who were in attendance.  Archbishop Joseph Kurtz of Louisville was the main celebrant; Bishop Frank Caggiano of Bridgeport, CT, was the homilist.  Despite the fact that this Mass was marketed to Americans, there were plenty of non-Americans in the house, too.  Not that it matters much; we’re all one Church.

After Mass, we got back on the bus, and started to drive towards the field.  The central event of WYD is the Vigil that the young people keep from Saturday night until Sunday morning, and then the Pope celebrates Sunday Mass with us and announces the location of the next WYD.  However, the location of the Vigil and Mass is never right in town – for 2 reasons.  The first is an issue of practicality: where are you going to put just over 2 million people?  The second is that this is a pilgrimage – which implies that you need to GO to the place.  So it’s generally a bit of a hike – literally – outside of the city.  You also have to bring with you what you need for keeping an overnight vigil – sleeping gear, etc.  So you’ll be carrying a bit of a load.

The buses were not able to get close to the area at all before they were shut down by security.  So we jumped off and started walking. 7 miles, give or take.  In the sun.  In 85 degree weather.  And I wear all black.

Luckily I had packed a lot of water.  Heatstroke and dehydration are no joke.  As we arrived, we were issued a bag of food that had to last us for dinner that night and breakfast the morning.  It was substantial, though, and for the most part it was pretty tasty.  Once we arrived at our designated zone and claimed a space for our group, I immediately decided it was nap time.  SO I spread my official, WYD-issued, canary yellow poncho on the ground (looks like those years in the Boy Scouts paid off), used my backpack as a pillow, and pulled my hat over my face and went to sleep.

I dozed for a while, then got up, ate something, drank some water, and prayed for a bit, then just waited for the Holy Father to arrive.  He did, to much fanfare, and preached yet another amazing homily, which you can (and should) read here.  Towards the end of the Vigil, candles were passed out to the entire crowd as we prayed for peace.  I wish I had taken a photo of what that looked like.  I’ll have to see if one of the kids did.  But it was awesome – a field of light in the darkness; 2 million people from over 180 countries, speaking hundreds of different languages, all praying for peace…

You might think it would be tough to sleep after that…I assure you, it was not.

The next morning, I woke up around 5 or so.  Dawn was just breaking.  I’m not often up at sunrise, so I enjoyed it for a few minutes, then realized that dawn is just too early for me.  So I hit the metaphorical snooze button and went back to sleep.  I was back up by about 6, though, because when you’re in the middle of an open field, there’s nowhere to hide from the sun – and the sun, as is it’s custom, was both bright and hot.  So I got up, stretched a bit, and watched everyone else slowly come to.

We looked like people who had slept the night in a field following a long, hot, and arduous hike – which is to say, we looked awful.  And we smelled worse.  But everyone was in a good mood because we were all in it together.  As I was standing there, a religious sister came over and was wondering if I wouldn’t mind hearing her confession and the confessions of a couple other sisters, as well.  By the time I finished with them, I had a line of regular folks that wanted to go to confession as well.  So I kept going.  And going.  By the time I finished, Mass had started.  I hadn’t planned on concelebrating anyway, since I wasn’t about to walk another mile to get to the sanctuary, so I just got back to the group and joined them.

It’s kind of weird to be at Mass as a priest and not be concelebrating.  On the other hand, it’s how I went to Mass for the first 34 years of my life, so it’s not completely foreign to me, either.  Yet again, the Pope crushed the homily.  Read that one, too.

We did a very Catholic thing at this Mass – as soon as we received Communion, we started walking for the exit.  I was never allowed to do that growing up – most of the time because I was serving, but also because we had a strict family rule about that.  But I watch people do it every Sunday, so I thought I might try it.  Turns out it’s a bad idea, so knock it off.  Seriously, though, given how long we were going to have to walk, we wanted to get a jump on the crowd.  We weren’t even out of the field before Mass ended, anyway.

As we were making our long walk back into the city, we heard a bit of a commotion behind us.  We turned to look, and there was a massive motorcade headed our way.  “I bet it’s the Pope,” one of the kids said.  “I would have thought they would have flown him out by chopper,” I answered.  What do I know?  It was the Pope.  He waved from the car as he zipped by; the crowd went nuts.  And then kept walking.

We reconvened with our tour director, but we had bad news – the bus couldn’t meet us where we were dropped off.  So the walk would be longer.  So we kept walking – rather aimlessly, it seemed – until we finally got to a spot where we could be picked up.  Of course, we were only picked up after we got soaked in a random summer storm, but that might have actually been a good thing, as no one had showered in 36 hours.

Back to the hotel for one of the most welcome showers of my life and a hour long nap, and then a delicious celebration dinner at the hotel.  Back upstairs to pack and finally sleep…because Monday would be the beginning of the journey home.

I still owe you updates on Saturday/Sunday, as well as Monday, but today is another travel day, so it might be impossible to post. Unless the plane has free wifi. At any rate, I’m currently sitting in Budapest’s airport, awaiting a flight to Frankfurt. There, we will connect to a flight to Washington, D.C.. The plane geek in me is really excited about that, because it’s on the new 747-800, a new type for me. Once we get back to the US, it’s another bus ride back to the seminary. But we’ll be home.

I apologize, again, for falling behind on these posts.  It’s not what I intended, but I’ve just been exhausted. Also, the Internet connection here can be a little spotty.  I’ll at least take you through Friday with this post, and if I have time, I’ll get to work detailing Saturday and Sunday tonight, too.

Friday presented a bit of a quandary for us, in that we didn’t want to face the prospect of another 11-mile day, but we wanted the day to still be meaningful.  So we decided to skip the English catechesis in the city of Kraków and get out into the countryside a little bit.  We chose to visit the Divine Mercy Shrine, where Saint Faustina received her visions.

Naturally, there was still some walking to be done after the bus dropped us off, but despite the fact that it was mainly uphill, it wasn’t too bad.  Our first stop was the John Paul II Center, which is itself a relatively recent construction.  It has a church, a museum, a conference center, and the inevitable bookshop.  The doors to the church were really cool, I thought, because inscribed in the bronze is the name of every encyclical letter that JPII wrote.  Then again, I am a theology nerd.  

The saintly Holy Father’s mortal remains remain entombed in St. Peter’s Basilica, beneath one of the side altars, but that was not his original resting place.  He had been buried in the grotto underneath the basilica initially.  After he was moved to the main floor of the church, the headstone that was downstairs was given to this center and is on display.  It was kind of neat to see it again – his body was transferred while I was living in Rome, so now I’ve seen it in both it’s homes.  The other thing that they had on display that was just fascinating was the cassock he was wearing the day he got shot.The left side if the cassock, which I approached first, doesn’t look too bad – a little bit of blood, but no more than you might do if you cut yourself shaving.  But when you pass by and see the other side…how did he even survive?  How much must he have suffered?  And how could he have forgiven the man who did this to him?  He always claimed that the Blessed Mother guided the bullet that day, and that’s how it avoided hitting any major organs and how he survived – I have no reason to doubt that claim.

We took a little break at this point, found a shady spot on the grass, and sat down.  Taylor, the youth minister at St. Richard, talked for a while on the life of Saint Faustina and her legacy, especially as regards mercy.  Then I did the same on Saint John Paul II.  Then we walked further in to the shrine grounds.  We stopped in the chapel were St. Faustina prayed and received her visions of Jesus; basically, where the chap let of Diveine Mercy was born.  We venerated one of her relics and prayed a bit.  After we moved on, a number of us walked to the confessions zone and went to confession.  Then we walked back up to the main church of the shrine for Mass in English.  Bishop Zubik was again celebrant and homilist.  The place was packed.  

After Mass, we all kind of got seperated, so I decided to head back to the bus.  Logically, I decided to retrace my route; foolishly, I never looked for a more direct way.  Because there was one.  That would have saved me a considerable amount of walking.  Regardless, I eventually got back to the bus, and just in time, as another summer storm was rolling through.

We drove back to Kraków city center.  The city was much busier than it had been even the day before.  We picked out a meeting place in town square and set a deadline, then let the group disperse as they saw fit.  A bunch of the kids wanted to go see the remains of Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, so I led them back to that church and prayed a while with them.  After we left there, we started to make our way back to the square.  We passed a church goods store that I had wanted to see earlier in the week.  It was closed then, but open now.  I mentioned that you can get some really nice vestments for fairly cheap in Poland, and for whatever reason the kids thought this was awesome and wanted to go shopping with me.  I had chilling visions of what my next credit card statement would look like.  Alas, it was not to be.  They were only allowing so many people in the store at a time, and the line was loooong.  I can order stuff on the internet anyway, right?

Back to the meeting point, and then on to dinner.  We had our tour guide hook us up with a place that was off the beaten trail and was authentic – we were the only non-Poles in the place.  The food was, as it’s been all week, fantastic.  We all ate more than we should have, and then set back off for the buses.  Once we got the buses squared away – and that hasn’t been easy, because roads have been closed intermittently for security – we headed back to the hotel.  Once we were here, the Bishop led us all in praying the Stations of the Cross, and then we called it a night.

9 miles walked.  Certainly an easier day than the day before, right?

I wonder how far Jesus walked when he carried the cross for me…

Well, I finally have a chance to rehash Thursday for you.  The hope was that it was going to be somewhat of a calmer day.  We had been maintaining a fairly grueling pace to this point.  In many cases, it really felt like we were rushing through things, and not getting a chance to really take them in.  And then, of course, was the Auschwitz visit, which really is just soul-crushing and can leave you feeling quite defeated.

So the idea was to get off to a little bit of a later start, and then report to our assigned church for that day’s catechesis session.  If you’re unfamiliar with how WYD works, basically it’s like this: The bishops of the world lead catechetical sessions for their respective language groups in the morning, all of which conclude with Mass.  The afternoons are free to explore the city and vicinity and to interact with the rest of the world.  So, on Thursday, we headed to the church of St. Nicholas, which, per the email I received, was to have an English catechesis.  

It was French.

So…we must immediately divert to Plan B.  Or, we must immediately formulate Plan B, and then divert to that.  We pulled our our smartphones, fired up the WYD app, and found here the nearest Engish session was.  “Just a little walk,” is what we told the group….and then we led them on a 30 minute walk through Kraków.  We arrived just in time – we missed the pre-emptory music and pump-up session, and got there just as Archbishop Wenski, of Miami, was starting his talk.  His theme was allowing ourselves to receive God’s mercy.  I’m not going to say much about what he said – because, to be quite honest, I plan on stealing some of it for future use of my own – but it was FANTASTIC.  And then we had Mass.

Following Mass, we grabbed a quick bite to it and one of the food tents along the Wista River, and then we decided to split up to see the city.  We walked toward Wawel Castle, once home to the kings of Poland, and there the group split up.  Some of us wanted to stand in the line to get into the old cathedral, to see the church where John Paul II was ordained birth priest and bishop.  Others wanted to explore the Main Square of the city, which is so beautiful as to be a UNESCORTED World Heritage Site.  I was in the cathedral line.

In 45 minutes, we moved about a hundred feet.

We abandoned that plan, and decided to head into the square ourselves.  As we were walking through, I noticed a church that looked, well, rather epic.  I said as much to the guys I was walking with, and we decided to stop in.  It was run by the Dominicans – who me I owe some debt to, having studied under them for two years in Rome – and had a really neat display on some of the greatest Dominicans that have lived.  (The Dominicans are celebrated their 800th anniversary.  Yes, 800th.). And also in the church were the remains of Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, a third-order Dominican.  So we stopped and prayed before his casket, which gave us all kinds of Saint street cried with the larger group when we reconvened that night.

We reconnected with our larger group, and then it was time to hike back to Blonia Park, for the welcoming ceremony with Pope Francis.  That walk took about 45 minutes in an intermittent rain.  We arrived and got a good spot along the fence line at the end of our section, and then just watched the rest of the world arrive.  So many different flags, and languages, and traditions, and songs…and so much joy.  It looked like what God intended the Church to be.

Finally, the Pope arrived, and finally – after a lengthy welcoming ceremony – he began to preach.  He preached on Martha and Mary and hospitality – a good topic, considering how Kraków is very graciously welcoming this massive horde of young people.  His homily was amazing.  He challenged us, he loved us, he joked with us….he was fatherly to us.  His two main points were that we, as young people, have tremendous capacity to do – that we can affect change in the world, that we can model what we want to see from others, and that our voices can and must be heard.  His second point was that we need to live – that the saddest thing are those people who are ready to retire at 24.  They are, as the Popel said, both bored and boring.  To think that you have exhausted your life at that point, to think you have nothing less to aspire to, to think that you’ve done it all and experienced it all – this is not right, not true, and is, in a way, sinful.  So get out there, he said, and live.

That’s precisely why Jesus died on the Cross – so that we might have life, and have it more abundantly.

When the homily was over, after the Pope gave us his blessing, we took off to find something to eat for dinner, and then get back on the bus.  

When I finally got back to the hotel, I wondered why my feet hurt so much.  I checked the Fitbit – 11 miles (and change) of walking.  Thankfully I packed ibuprofen…

Sorry no post last night. I was just too tired. It was a really good day, though. Today should be a little easier. I hope. Anyway, when I can, I’ll update you on yesterday and today as soon as I can. We’re on the bus now, headed to the Divine Mercy shrine.

After we left Wadowice, we went for a little drive in the Polish countryside.  As an aside, it’s obvious why so many Poles ended up settling in southwestern Pennsylvania.  You really can’t tell the difference.  That is, until you look off into the distance and see something on a hilltop – is that a castle?  No, that’s just a church.  They sure did know how to build them here.

But eventually our drive had to end, and we pulled up at a place that, very rightly, is synonymous with evil.

Auschwitz.

I’ve been thinking all day about what to write about it.  I still don’t know that I can.  It is just beyond comprehension.  No one knows how many people died there – conservatively, 600,000, but some say as many as 3.5 million.  3,500,000 human beings were killed there.  

Many areas of the camp were closed off to us today because of the sheer number of pilgrims, so we didn’t get to see everything, but we got to see enough.  I had a chance to stop and pray outside of Block 17, where St. Maximilian Kolbe gave his life.  If you’re unfamiliar with his story, look it up; but here’s an abbreviated version.  Several prisoners had escaped, so in reprisal, the Nazis were going to kill an equal number of prisoners.  Ten were selected at random.  The tenth broke down and begged for his life; he had a wife and a young daughter.  Kolbe stood up and offered to take his place.  When the guard asked who he was, Kolbe simply responded, “I am a Catholic priest.”  Reason enough to kill him.  The ten were locked away; they were to be starved to death.  The sentence should only have taken days to carry out; the camps were dreadful, and the prisoners malnourished.  Kolbe lived for 14 days, spending it leading the other men in prayers and spiritual songs.  Finally, he was killed by lethal injection.  His body, like the others, was cremated.

We saw several areas were prisoners were executed publicly, either by hanging or firing squad. The thing of it is, those areas don’t look like killing grounds.  The whole place has a feel like you’re walking around a small liberal arts college.  The buildings are in neat rows, there are trees and grassy quads…and in many of them, people were killed.

When you first enter the camp, you walk under a big bronze arch that says, “Work will make you free.”  That is a lie.  The truth will set you free, and the truth is Jesus Christ.

Auschwitz was horrific.  There were more horrors to come.

We got back on the bus and drove a short distance to Auschwitz II – Birkenau.  Auschwitz was where the Nazi’s first successfully tested mass executions with Zyklon-B gas.  It worked, but the camp was too small for what the “Final Solution” required.  So a much larger camp, a much larger camp, was constructed.

Perhaps you’ve seen HBO’s Band of Brothers – if you haven’t, it’s worth it.  But there’s a scene there where the US soldiers discover a death camp.  Even now, 70 years afterwards, it’s still jarring.  You pass along a specially-built rail line, built to make the process more efficient.  And then you pass the field where the people were sorted – those suitable to work for a time, and those that must be executed immediately.  75% of people fell into the latter category.  We saw the burned out remains of the gas chambers and the crematoriums – in the last days, the SS tried to destroy the evidence.  They also burned out the warehouses that held the personal possessions that people had brought with them.

We also saw the pond.  And it is only a pond; it’s not that large at all.  But that pond is now a grave to millions of people, because it is where the ashes were dumped following the cremations.

I’m shivering right now as I type that.

I’ve been trying to remind myself that, as unfathomable and unexplainable as the evil of that place is, so too is God’s love unfathomable and unexplainable.  And what I received in the Eucharist this morning is greater than hate.  And that Jesus Christ has shattered the chains of death in His own rising from the grave, but…but all those people are dead. 

Today was tough.

One of the kids had a wonderful insight.  She really has a beautiful soul, and I don’t know that I’ll do her justice, but… She said that she’s having a hard time understanding God’s mercy, because God’s mercy is unconditional, and that’s generally not how we show mercy to one another.  But, she said, at the same time, it makes her feel good.  Because if God can be merciful even towards the people that commit such atrocities, then God really can do anything.  And if God still desires to love the people that worked in those camps, then God still desires to love her in her sinfulness.  And God can redeem that.

And He will.

Today has to be divided into two posts.  Just has to.  You’ll see why later.

This morning we traveled to Wadowice, hometown of Pope Saint John Paul II.  We started the day with Mass in a the private chapel of the Carmelite fathers, a chapel where JPII himself celebrated Mass several times.

In his homily, Bishop Zubik challenged us to reflect on what is foundational in our life.  Today’s Gospel spoke about a merchant selling everything he owes to obtain a pearl of great price…so what is our pearl of great price?  Is it Jesus?  If it’s not…may I humbly suggest that you might be doing this wrong?

After Mass, we had a little bit of time to explore the town.  Not much time, but enough.  Found the church where John Paul II was baptized at; said a brief prayer at the baptismal font.  

This really got to me.  A week after I first moved to Rome, we went to Assisi to begin language school, and one of the first things we did there was go to the Basilica of San Rufino, the church where both Saint Francis and Saint Clare were baptized.  I was just struck with awe; I mean, how holy could that font be, that it produced these two great saints?  And how holy is this font in Wadowice, to produce so great a pope?

The answer, of course, is that they are no holier than any other font in any other church in the world.  We all can be saints; indeed, by our very baptism we are called to be nothing less.

Figure out what your foundation is.  Make sure it’s strong.  And then build the Kingdom on it.

Today we visited the monastery of Jasna Gora, in a town called Czestochowa.  This monastery is home to the shrine of the Black Madonna.  You’ve undoubtedly seen images of this famous icon before – all I can say is it is far more powerful to see it – to see Our Blessed Mother – up close.  At noon there was a Mass celebrated in English; Bishop Zubik was the main celebrant and homilist.  The Gospel we used was the wedding feast at Cana from John.  It’s a well-known scene for sure, and it’s an important one because it’s the last time in Scriptures the Blessed Mother says anything.  (A good rule of thumb when studying Scripture – always pay attention to the first and last things someone says.  If it’s Jesus, pay attention to everything he says.). Anyway, what the Bishop reflected on was that the surest way to demonstrate our love for God is by being obedient to what God is calling us to do with or in our lives.

Here we are after Mass.

Speaking of after Mass, we then left to head back to Kraków.  We stopped along the way to get some lunch, which turned out to be a bigger endeavor than it should…but we had a bus full of people to feed, and we were descending on a place that just saw two bus loads leave.  And as we were leaving, another bus load was pulling in.  Kraków is home to about 900,000 people on a regular day…and this week, they are expecting a little over 1,000,000 pilgrims to visit.  It’s not easy to double the size of your city overnight.

Once we got to Kraków, our bus parked as close to Blonia Park as it could, and we walked from there to our designated area for our next Mass, and also for the welcoming ceremony and official kick-off for World Youth Day.  The cardinal arch-bishop of Kraków presided over this one.  His homily – this time drawn on the Gospel account of Jesus asking Peter “do you love me?” Three times following the Resurrection, also focused on obedience.  His point, which is well made, is that so often we go about the spiritual life with certain presumptions or expectations.  We think if we do this, we get that.  I go on this pilgrimage, and I will receive this specific grace.  Or I can discern this specific question.  We ought to be less about telling God what He’s going to do for us and just let Him be God…that generally works out in the end.

Some other random notes:

*Weather is ok.  Kind of rainy today, but it really only rained when we were on the bus, so that was a stroke of luck.  Temperature never really went above 80, but it was very humid.  I’m worried we’re not hydrating enough.

*Polish is HARD.  Father Nick and I had this conversation earlier:  “Mike, look! This word doesn’t even have any vowels!” “Yeah, and I think 2 of these letters are silent, but I don’t know which.”  

*Lots of countries represented here.  And not just European, either.  I’m most impressed, I think, by the ones that came really great distances or came from parts of the world that just aren’t as wealthy as the USA.  So, most of the South American countries; Angola; Tanzania; Cape Verde; New Caledonia; Armenia; South Africa; Australia; New Zealand… It took us probably 20 hours of travel to get here; how long did it take some of them?

*There are groups here from Iraq.  The West might be turning it’s back on the plight of Christians in that country, but they’re still alive.  And they very much want us to know they’re still part of the family.

*Yes, we know about what happened in France today.  All the more reason to be here.

Tomorrow should be another powerful day.  Among other places, we’ll be visiting Auschwitz. 

We have safely arrived.  All of us.

The bus from Pittsburgh to DC was ok.  The flight from DC to Munich was…well, I guess the only positive things I can say about it were that there was no turbulence and we arrived perhaps 30 minutes early.  I expected a lot more out of this unnamed, German flag carrier.  My brief layover in Munich was nice – had some wurst.  The flight to Kraków was good – I slept most of it.  The bus drivers from the airport got lost twice finding the hotel.  I don’t understand.  There were only like 2 turns.

Now we have our big welcome dinner, and then I think I am going to get some sleep in a proper bed.  I’m beat.  But at least we all got here safely.

Of course we did.  Today is the Feast of the Apostle James.  Saint James happens to be the patron saint of people making pilgrimages.  No coincidences in the Kingdom of God….