Lourdes, France hasn't been the same since a girl named Bernadette walked into a cave looking for firewood something like 150 years ago. Why, exactly, Bernadette was under the impression that there might be firewood inside a cave remains unexplained. What she did find was an apparition of the Virgin Mary.

There were eighteen visions in all until somebody got tired of all the apparition stuff and had the cave sealed and declared off-limits. But the excitement about the apparitions continued. The enormous Basilica of the Rosary was built atop the cave, which was itself re-opened and made into what looks like a small chapel. The Catholic church in the early twentieth century declared officially that Bernadette had indeed seen an apparation of the Virgin.

"The event must have no reasonable scientific explanation."
As an aside, it's really interesting what the Vatican does to declare something a miracle. Whether you're a believer or not, it's fascinating. At least in modern times, there's a bishop or cardinal or somebody whose exclusive job is to investigate supposed miracles. I think he's usually a trained scientist and works with a panel of scientists to determine if the event in question, whether apparition or recovery from illness or whatever, has no reasonable scientific explanation. By this reasoning... of course... flying bumblebees, much of quantum mechanics and Tori Spelling's acting career would have to be delcared miracles. But it's an interesting process nonetheless.

But back to Lourdes. I never really planned to come here, but saw that the train I was taking to Toulouse passed the town so I stopped for a night. You've probably seen the television pictures of Lourdes. This is where hundreds of thousands of pilgrims come to see the cave where the Virgin appeared. The sick, hoping for a miraculous recovery, bathe by the thousands in the pools near the cave. In the summer Lourdes is a frenzy of religous fervor. The faithful stand in line for hours and hours to see the cave, bathe in the pools and light a candle at dozens of altars near the cave. The streets are choked for miles; locals walk everywhere rather than sitting in the traffic.

"I don't know why the pizzaria even bothers opening."
But not in the winter. There's nobody. Most of the hotels even close for the season. I tried four places before finding a room. Restaurants are shut, the streets are empty. I found maybe twenty other people at the cave. I don't know why the pizzaria I had dinner at even bothers opening. I was the only customer and chatted with the waitress who had nothing else to do.

Calling it a "cave" isn't exactly accurate. Maybe that's why they often call it a "grotto." At least the part of it that you can see is just an indentation in a rock wall, kind of an overhang. Going "inside" the grotto involves little more than walking under this overhang. You're never more than ten feet from broad daylight.

"People splash their faces and fill containers of holy water."
The walls of the grotto are worn smooth by countless millions of hands rubbing over them. A floor has been laid over the bottom to make it easier to walk inside, but a glass window allows you to see down to a lighted spring that bubbles up. This is the source for the dozens of water taps surrounding the grotto where people splash their faces and fill containers of holy water.

But if you come, don't bother bringing an empty container. They are readily available, in all sizes and shapes, from any of the innumerable tacky tourist shops surrounding the holy site. Nobody in the world can produce kitch like merchants looking to make a buck off religous piety. Virgin Mary-shaped holy water containers. Three dimensional holograms of Bernadette or the Virgin. It's amazing. Even now in the low season many are still open, dusting the "Christ with blinking lights" portraits.

"The paraphernalia the Catholics get to use."
The next day I got an idea for how seriously people take this holy water thing. Having been raised in a Protestant denomination, we missed out on a lot of the paraphernalia the Catholics get to use. A woman was heading for her train with a cart loaded with five five-gallon jugs of holy water. I had to return one to her when she didn't notice as it fell after hitting a bump. What does one do with twenty-five gallons of holy water?

Right now the train is headed for Toulouse, France's fourth-largest city, but I may not sleep there. I may continue to Carrsassone, a town with a restored medieval center a little farther east. The trains in France are expensive, but there's amazingly efficient and easy. I've yet to check out the bus situation here, but it seems they're not much cheaper and take a lot longer. The two-and-a-half hour trip from Lourdes to Toulouse was $25. Ten bucks an hour. Ouch. Wasn't so long ago that I didn't make that much at work.