The Rest...

OK, back from an epic dinner.  Ate way more than I should have, but knowing what lay ahead, I know that I'll need those calories.  There's lots of walking to be done, especially in this heat.

Anyway, where were we?

I did want to share with you the view from the top.

Simply stunning.

The next few hours are a total blur.  Those who know me know that I have the gift/curse of being able to fall asleep anywhere, just about any time.  The cool air from the bus AC and the soothing, motherly voice of our pilgrim guide awakened my narcolepsy.  It wouldn't surprise me the slightest bit if there are pictures of the "Drooling Padre" floating around the internet at this very moment.

We got to our hotel and checked in.  It's a nice place (free wifi!) only a giant's stone's throw from Copacabana beach where the opening Mass and the official greeting of Pope Francis will take place in the coming days.

Speaking of Pope Francis...I'm shocked he made it out alive from his whirlwind drive through downtown upon his arrival.

Here's a pic from Vatican TV showing how a lack of proper barricading can lead to significant lapses in one's ability to protect the Papal entourage:

 

It was like that at several points along the route.  Some people even managed to reach inside the papal car.  It's been said that Pope Francis got out once during a traffic jam and kissed a baby.  He may be Fearless, but I bet he's driving his security team nuts.

But the excitement around his arrival can't be ignored.  Here's a better picture from Getty that shows a much more orderly procession:

So, glued to the tube in my room, I watched our Holy Father return to his native continent for the first time as Pope.  I suppose we could have, or perhaps even should have, been out there on the streets, waving our American flags, hopeful that we could box out the nuns for a two-second flash of white driving by.  It would have been worth it, but, considering our lack of sleep and how busy the day already had been, I rest assured that we chose the better part.

At this point, the troops were getting restless.  They attacked the room their youth minister and I are sharing and demanded that we march on the city in search for food.

As darkness began to envelope us once more, so too did a tropical storm.

Some local Brazilian pilgrims pointed us toward a grocery store where we were promised milk and honey, and refuge from the storm.  The plan was to get a snack to tide us over till dinner, so we went ahead and followed this gaggle of Rio Thugs into some back alleys.  You can do things at World Youth Day with limited concern that you normally wouldn't do under any circumstances.

Some kids got pizza, the girls got pita and hummus.  I settled from some fresh-baked French bread and a wheel of Brie--what country am I in again?  The only thing that could have made it better would have been a wide glass of a dark and rich Bordeaux.  If only there weren't minors present...

Back to the hotel we went.  As I was halfway through my journaling and blogging, a call came to my room--the phones here sound like air raid sirens--informing me that our group was to meet in the lobby to head out to dinner.  We ended up at a churrascaria, the mack daddy of all "buffet" restaurants; a meat parade, as it was called, where succulent roast animal after succulent roast animal is brought out before you and carved on your plate in "Be Our Guest" themed celebration -- "Let us help you we'll keep going...course by course, one by one, till you shout, 'Enough, I'm done'."  Anyone?  Anyone?

The youth minister has long legs and a fast walking tempo.  He and the nimble teens got a good lead on me, but I didn't mind.  It gave me some alone time to think and to pray the Rosary.

And here I sit, just after midnight, finishing up my post.  It's been a great day, a blessed day. And I have a feeling tomorrow will be even greater.