Like a Tide

Now I've been travelling around Europe for nearly two months now as part of my hiatus--my planned transition from studies to "real life" (what ever that's supposed to mean). And with my return to Toronto just around the corner, I'm beginning to panic. I've got just a little over a week left and the thought of normalcy and the routinary is freaking me out a bit.

I took a day trip out to Aachen, Germany yesterday and among other cultural sights, I visited their St. Mary's Cathedral. Mediocre and pretty standard (at least from a non-architectural eye) from the outside, I was completely taken aback by the interior. Literally jaw-droppingly breathtaking. With stained glass windows that seemed to stretch for miles above me and ceilings decorated so tastefully, it was like no other I'd seen before. Glittering with gold, a style I usually despise, it was not a pompous show of wealth but rather, an artistic statement of the time. I don't do it justice with my words, but you'd understand had you seen it with your own eyes.

But anyway, while I was in the Cathedral today, I thought of how much I would miss that unmistakeable feeling of awe and wonderment every time I see or learn something new about a particular site. The unadulterated amazement I had as I walked through the streets of Luxembourg during the Grand Duke's party...of being in and above the clouds at Mount Pilatus...of feeling the vibrance and continued post-liberation spirit of Berlin...of being faced with the cruelty in Dachau...of meeting new people from around the world from different walks of life with their own stories to tell...as I first set eyes on the ruins of the ampitheater, the sight of that little bridge between the Gruuthuis and the Church of Our Lady, the view from St. Mike's Bridge in Ghent, the grandeur of the David, the unbelievably blue lakes of Interlaken, and now, the beauty of St. Mary's. That feeling of being connected...however briefly, however superficially...to  the immense history of man...grand, tragic, joyous. That feeling of connection with the many people I've met along my travels, almost strangers really but with whom I'll always share a moment.

Amazement, gratitude, pride, excitement, and disbelief all mashed together in a violent wave of emotion. Is there a single word to describe that feeling? Like a tide...rising and falling always.

Whatever it is...I'm sure to long for these moments when I return home, however sweet home may be. How many times will I replay these moments in my mind?...trying to pick up the remnants, recapture glimpses...however small, however brief. Oh le sigh!

On Churches

Traveling through Europe, you can't avoid entering the many churches that are the centerpieces of many of its cities. Now I'm not a practicing Catholic and I haven't been for years now, but somehow I'm compelled to visit almost every church that I come across here...even if it is just for a quick prayer. Maybe it's out of habit...I am Filipino after all. And for those of you who don't know, the Catholic faith runs deep in our nation...in fact, you could say that it is part and parcel of the Philippines.

Needless to say, during my travels, I've been to more churches than I could possibly count. I've seen all kinds of shapes, sizes, and styles -- Baroque, Gothic, Romanesque, neo-Classical (not that I know my architecture well enough to ever really distinguish the differences). But none have ever really moved me. Or made me feel like I was in a truly holy place. Quite opposite in fact. Usually the churches in Europe are of such grandeur and opulence that I feel rather uncomfortable. Just too much of everything that it's hard to find any kind of peace. Sure, they're impressive for their architecture, paintings, and decor, but that's not really what it's supposed to be about, is it? I'll never forget the St. Peter's Church in Vienna, a church so shockingly gold that I left with a nasty taste in my mouth. Instead of feeling God's presence or whatever or whoever it is I'm supposed to feel when I'm in there, I just saw a pompous display of wealth.

But this post isn't supposed to be about those churches. It's really about the one church out of the multitudes that actually made me feel something...the Chapel of the Holy Blood in Bruges.

I walked into that little chapel that had nothing but a few sculptures and maybe one or two paintings hanging on its stone walls, and instantly, I felt a connection...like it really was the house of God.

I walked around this humble and solemn place to find a sculpture of Jesus with his crown of thorns looking down in thought. I sat down in front of him and before I knew it, I was crying. The statue just oozed so much sorrow, I couldn't help the tears. I distinctly remember thinking, could this be how he looks down on us on Earth? With so much sadness in his eyes? I couldn't distinguish if it was disappointment or just pure sorrow that I saw. And if it were one or the other, what would it mean and would any one option be better?

Thinking of all those suffering today (every day) and all our wrongdoings that make such suffering possible, I just kept thinking what He, She, It, or whatever name or pronoun you want to use, thought about us. I don't know the word to describe what I felt in that exact moment...maybe sorrow, maybe compassion, maybe a little guilt? I don't know. But whatever it was, I felt...and it's a feeling I won't ever forget.

In Fuckin' Bruges (It's in Belgium)

Excuse the crass language above, it's all Martin McDonagh's! And unlike what Colin Farrell's character in In Bruges may think, this place is not a shithole! Far from it.

It's my last night here in Bruges and though I will have spent a solid five days here, I still feel like I'm not quite yet done with this enchanting little city. As the city's official guidebook says (and yes I am quoting a guide book here), it's a place "whose secrets you can’t unlock completely although they’ve captured your heart". I can't think of any better way to describe my feelings about Bruges.

One of the most well preserved Medieval cities in the world, it truly feels like I'm traveling back to the past -- during a time that I can only vaguely imagine. Every twist and turn of every street brings something new to take my breath away. Everything here just oozes a certain je ne sais quoi of a time long gone...the architecture, the churches, the Béguinages, the canals...

It's romantic and eerily mysterious all at the same time. It's a relic of the past and yet oddly modern as well with the ubiquitous wifi connection from the many cafes -- even from the famous Belfry! -- bringing you back to the present day.

I've never been to a place that's made me feel like this before and I'm truly sad to be leaving already.

Ik hou van jou, Brugge!

Still In Transit...

After a brief respite in Toronto for my convocation ceremony, I'm on to part II of my summer trip to Europe. This time I'll be traveling around the Benelux region for the next month or so...a place I never really even dreamed of visiting until very recently (thanks for the vivid descriptions, Lonely Planet!). Don't really know what to expect (do we ever really?) but here's hoping to more sunsets, adventure, and lessons to learn...

Amphitheater at Trier, Germany

Oh and yes, I'm also still vlogging. Follow me on my journey at: www.youtube.com/findingpangaea