Secrets of My Nomadic Heart

A BATH IN LOURDES
A time of inner preparation for the pilgrimage

By Denise Chng Lisan
27th September, 2009



It probably sounds crazy to wait five hours for a bath, but that was exactly what I did in Lourdes in France. The long line sifted out the faithful from the undetermined, as the hours of waiting got unbearable. I waited on, motivated more by curiosity than by faith. Inch by inch, the line moved. I was chanting the prayer of Hail Mary with the rest of the waiting pilgrims, remembering that it was not so long ago when my life was as empty as an arid land and faith had taken a long leave of absence…

A year before, in 2006, I had lost both my mother and my grandmother within months. The fact that both of them were named after Mother Mary, and that my grandmother left behind a picture of little Bernadette kneeling before Mother Mary at the grotto in Lourdes pointed my way to the sacred site. In my state of grief, Lourdes was calling out to me with the promise of Motherly love.

The summer of 2007, I arrived at Lourdes, at the foothills of the Pyrenees, with a heart palpitating with both excitement and anxiety. It was hard not to gasp in fear at my first sight of the mountains looming in the background. I almost regretted planning to trek over the Pyrenees on my 600km walking pilgrimage from France to Santiago in Northern Spain. But the pain of loss and emotional emptiness within me demanded that I conquer this feat, perhaps to balance the equation with matching physical discomfort and spiritual anguish. Lourdes became a natural sanctuary for my inner preparation before I embarked on my pilgrimage on foot.

Those who have gone to Lourdes have told me that taking a bath in Lourdes is a special experience not to be missed. The spring water of Lourdes is believed to be a sacred source of life and has miraculously cured many. By the number of sick pilgrims who arrive in busloads, it is evident that many come in faith and hope that the Lourdes water will heal them. I saw women coming out of their baths, somehow looking different, as if they were carrying a world of importance in them. One woman who left crying marked me with the intensity of her experience.

After a long five-hour wait, and five minutes later, I came out of the bath feeling completely cleansed in spirit, leaving behind the imaginary soil of my life. I walked out with hands over my heart, guarding the precious gift of the Spirit inside me. Everything started anew from then on. It felt like baptism.

In the silence of that evening, I knelt before the statue of Mother Mary, as Bernadette did, to give thanks. I offered up my fears and inadequacies in prayer. In return, grace and love washed over me, and I ended up sobbing like a baby. Nothing heals more than the powerful and direct experience of Motherly love. I was ready to take on my long journey ahead.

A video of Lourdes made in memory of my mother:


To read blog posts written during the 600km Pilgrimage, you can begin here.
(Click 'newer posts' to advance or follow drop down menu 'Camino de Santiago' on the top menu)

(Travel Article to come)


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The least I would expect on this road trip would be to meet a fellow Chinese. But meeting 老路 Lao Lu caught me with a greater surprise than meeting a Chinese. She is a 77-year old Gaspesian strong-minded lady who came up and spoke to me in fluent Mandarin.

On many occasions, from the streets of Bangkok, New York or wherever, people throw a few words at me in Mandarin, like 'Ni Hao' (How are you, in Mandarin), to demonstrate their little connection with the Chinese culture. Some even take me for Japanese and say 'sayonara'. But Lao Lu is not one of those. On our first encounter, she held her solo introduction so well that I was in awe. The thought that here I am in Gaspesie, near the tip of the vast land, in a little quiet village, coming to face a Quebecoise lady who spoke Mandarin in such fluency left me dumbfounded.

We spoke a little more at length, and she shared that she has been to China 28 times. 28 times. I wonder if I have been home to Singapore 28 times, that often, in my life. She was even passionate enough to pack her bags and leave for China to study the language for 6 months before the Olympics. But by the stroke of luck, she met with an accident and had to return back to Quebec with the unfinished dream. Her passion for the language remains alive and her love for the Chinese people and culture is evident and contagious. I could not help feeling a little ashamed of my lack of fluency in my own mother-tongue. Maybe she would be my spark, lighting the interest in my own language back to life.

She invited me and Richard to her home for breakfast the next morning. This is what I love about travel - meeting special people and connecting with them in ways unplanned and unimaginable. Lao Lu's youth and wonder in her heart connected with me and Richard.

At Lao Lu's home, I learnt that she was a tour guide for many years and traveled far and often in her younger days. She shared with me her 'Chinese room' where she kept Chinese paintings, vases, dolls, souvenirs and carvings. We poured over albums of photos from her travel, and I even got to 'meet' her long-time friend from Singapore, Lilian, or Pek-yi Kok. Richard and I marveled at the synchronicity of our encounter. Here, this special lady is talking to me about 'Bukit Timah' and durians from Singapore. She said her friend lived at Bukit Timah and she stayed there while visiting Singapore many years ago. Suddenly, then, Lao Lu made me feel homesick, right in the middle of my travel.

Richard and I are camera-addicts. We took pictures and videos to keep souvenirs. When I suggested putting up the pictures on my blog, Lao Lu said, "I want to say hi to my friend in Singapore!" I became excited. If I could do something to connect Lao Lu with her friend, that would give me lots of pleasure.

One thing led to another. By the time we left her cosy home, we had eaten three toasts each (because of her delicious homemade strawberry jam) and sung a couple Chinese songs to celebrate. Imagine Lao Lu singing 'San Zhi Lao Hu' (Three tigers). That was what she did. She sang it with such gusto and enthusiasm that I would like the world to see. I hope she is as proud of herself as I am of her.

We arrived at a camping paradise. Signs of bohemian art, written 'Griffon Adventures' led us to the campground hidden between the little highway and the Bas St. Laurent coast. Our car wheeled slowly down the beaten path and came upon the woods shack named 'Accueil' (i.e. reception). I already have good vibes for the place, as the setting sun threw a warm glow on all the wooden cabins, turning them into sunburst orange. The music of Bob Marley came into my head.








From the central wood shack, I could see little wooden tracks leading out into the wood in different directions. Out came Olivier, the guy who runs the place, whom I've been liaising with for my reservation. Barely in his 30s, I think, he looks like someone who embraces a life of 'la bohême' to me. He sports long brown curly hair tied in a pony tail, and unshaven chin. I imagined meeting Jack Kerouac in person, the author and protagonist of the book, "On The Road". It's my new book companion on the road.





Griffon Adventure campground is a communal paradise for those who want to get away from city beat and consumerism. It's a nice break not to see heavy recreational campers anywhere on the site. Even water and electricity is a rare treat. We washed our dishes by pumping water, same with toilet (though I simply just pee-ed in the wild - that's what nature is for). The luxury we had was warm and strong running water for our shower. That won me over in a heartbeat.


Our little site is, appropriately named Panaromix, sheltered by pine trees, peaking out to a panaromic view of the sea, with a campfire clearing to look at the stars. The best part of the campground is the communal playground, which consists of a bar, ping pong table, barbecue pit and terrace with two hammocks overlooking the sea. I was in love with the place the moment I got in the swinging hammock.








On google map, here we were, camping under the stars by the sea...nearly at the end of land at L'Anse Au Griffon.

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To view videos of our campsite, click here

The first stop on our road trip is chez Jacques and Jocelyne. We love their hospitality, as they often welcome us with a warm hug and great food. We celebrated our vacation together with lively white wine and two sixteen-inch seafood pizza, followed by a little fire in the garden and star-gazing.

The next morning, we followed a winding road through the valley to arrive at St. Rene, a cultured fish farm. This isn't going to be wild salmon fishing expedition, but it's the closest I can get so far to a real fishing trip. I was delighted.

It's been so long since I fished...in fact, from my recollection of childhood memories, I only watched my dad and brother fish. So, actually, this is the first time I am holding a cold squirmy fish alive in my hands, let alone pulling worms apart with my bare fingers and piercing them through the hook. But I love the feeling of the fish biting my bait and tugging at the line. There is life at the end of the line....soon to be eaten.

It's the closest to animal cruelty I've come. Blood on my hands. But I'm glad to have fresh trouts for dinner tonight. And smoked trouts for picnic next weekend. I keep reminding myself not to feel guilty for the five fish lives I've taken. Maybe after dinner, I won't feel so bad.







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