DAY TWO: CASTLES AND THE BASQUE COUNTRY

Even that, however, ended abruptly as checkout came and the travelling resumed. Although we couldn’t stay for long, the unfortunately small amount of time spent in Zaragoza made me regretful of the fact that we couldn’t stay for longer. The cathedral for Our Lady of Pilar was truly the only piece of Zaragoza we were allowed to bask in and enjoy. After only learning its history – that Mary appeared in that spot, leaving a pilar as a sign, in 40BC – we were packed back into our bus, heading towards the castle of Xavier. For the duration of the trip, I mostly read but when I lost focus on my book, I took the opportunity to watch the northern Spanish countryside pass me by. I watched as a myriad of cramped alleyways and colorful buildings transformed into rolling Catalonian plains, which coalesced into lush, vibrant Basque hills. We were truly entering the unconquered kingdom of Navarra at that point; mountains like those would protect the Basques from any foe. To truly appreciate my surroundings, however, required stepping out of the bus. Except for the humidity, transforming water into something that could not combat heat, everything was perfect. Surrounded in a backdrop of soaring peaks, covered in tall green coniferous, rested a castle. St. Xavier’s Castle. Entering was like stepping into a fairytale. The old hallways brought to life the story of St. Xavier. It’s one thing to hear about a saint, but it’s very different to walk alongside their memory. Although, this is the man who travelled across Europe, Africa, and Asia, so it is very difficult to truly understand Xavier the person as a teenager just about to finish high school, but being in his family home or next to his baptismal site, the source of his motivation, his love for God, felt very tangible. But like everything else, the end came abruptly. Before I knew what had happened I found myself in Pamplona. Being able to explore Pamplona more than any other major city, I found myself entranced by its charm. Restaurants, people, and vehicles all occupied spaces next to one another that would’ve resulted in an injury or a fight back home. Everything form the architecture to walking where people are usually running from bulls gave Pamplona an essence, a majesty, that I had not found yet during our trip. The reason for stopping there, of course, was its significance in St. Ignatius’ life. Being the spot where St. Ignatius injured his leg, Pamplona is the spot were any semblance of the Jesuits began. If Pamplona was an appetizer, than the home of St. Ignatius was the entrée. During Mass in the room were St. Ignatius dedicated himself to Christ, my prior realization struck again with ten times the force. Standing in the spot where my education, friends, and future materialized was a surreal experience. It was at this point that I could truly appreciate the decision I made over a year ago to come on this trip. The admiration for St. Ignatius was clear everywhere one looked; a town had formed around the site of St. Ignatius’ castle and a basilica was built in his honor. Although we had the chance to explore Loyola on our own, which allowed me to glimpse the beautiful scenery and experience the serenity of the small town, Loyola only came alive to me when its inhabitants gathered in said basilica to sing. Although the song was in Euskara with only a few parts in Spanish, the echoes of the organ and the choir set my soil on fire in only a way that the combination of beautiful music, beautiful art, and the presence of Saint Ignatius can.