Chaos and papal emotion – BCNmes

I’m writing these lines on the subway, on my way between papal events, where I’ve already had to change places twice because men who smell bad sit next to me (seriously, dudes, what’s the problem with the shower and the deodorant?). One more point to add to the general and particular stress of dealing with a catastrophic media organization of the Pope’s visit. Here’s a little bit of what’s going on behind the scenes while there’s a debate about whether the gentleman is a progressive because he defends treating migrants as human beings, or a manual carca who is against women and against life because he considers the right to abortion and dignified death to be fatal.

The gala tests. First, you must be accredited in advance. But not the typical two weeks that are requested, and it is understandable, when there is a summit with several world leaders; no, the process closed more than a month before, when no one knew if their media would cover the trip or which part of the trip. Result: more than 5,000 journalists who asked to go to all, plus those who stayed out. Once the first test was passed, the second was to be very attentive to the mail and ready for any request. One Tuesday at the end of May in the afternoon it arrived: a photo had to be uploaded to a Drive. But it had to be done before the following morning and the photo had to weigh less than 1MB, because there is no smartphone on earth capable of that. Then you had to confirm what you wanted accreditation for at the end, because they had it all over the world, and you had to do it, again, within 10 hours. And then you had to send a signed responsible statement, again, in less than 10 hours.

In the sixth test I went to pick up the accreditation in person. A plastic card that only serves to enter a huge press center at the Fair where no one in their right mind would go because the Pope can only be seen through a screen. For each event, they gave you an additional cardboard card that you had to show at home. Despite having fulfilled all the requirements in time and form, accreditations for my equipment, photos and a long roll were missing. But we got it.

Then, yes, the emotion arrived. In the Olympic Stadium, 40,000 people were literally waiting for God. As we had to be there 3 hours before, it also seemed to me that I was seeing God when, finally, the Popemobile entered the scene and opened the way. The crowd ran from their seats to the fences to be in the front row. Many mothers and fathers handed over their babies to be blessed by the Pope, creating a priceless image: security men in suits and ties, tough and relentless, tenderly picking up babies here and there to bridge the gap between the parents and the Holy Father. I wanted to be Catholic as much as in October 2017 I wanted to be independent to give myself body and soul to the cause. And without being, I got excited. The guy, charismatic and affable, raised his hand to greet a stand and the crowd went crazy with applause and cheers. I have not seen anyone cause such a sensation. Not even Rosalía. The Church must be recognized for its power in liturgy and mysticism, at least during the tour. Then the vigil started and since I don’t belong to the club, I got bored and left. While descending Montjuïc, with this filter between blue and pink that this wonderful city has at sunset, I forgot all the previous chaos.

CATALAN

I’m writing these lines on the subway, on my way between papal events, where I’ve already had to change seats twice because stinky men sit next to me (come on, man, what’s wrong with your shower and deodorant?). One more point to add to the general and particular stress of dealing with a catastrophic media organization of the Pope’s visit. Here’s a bit of what’s going on between the swings while outside it’s being discussed whether the gentleman is a progressive because he defends that migrants are treated as human beings, or a manual carca who is against women and against life because he considers the right to abortion and a dignified death to be fatal.

The Welsh Tests. First, you had to be accredited in advance. But not the typical two weeks that are called for, and understandably so, when there is a summit with several world leaders; no, the process was closed more than a month before, when no one knew if their medium would cover the trip or what part of the trip. Result: more than 5,000 journalists who asked to go everywhere, plus those who must have been left out. Once the first test was passed, the second was to be mega-hungry for mail and ready for any request. A Tuesday afternoon at the end of May came: a photo needed to be uploaded to a Drive. But it had to be done before the next morning and the photo had to weigh less than 1 MB, which no smartphone on Earth can do. Then you had to confirm (now yes) which acts you wanted accreditation for, because they had everyone everywhere, (of course) and you had to do it, again, within 10 hours. And then a signed responsible statement had to be sent, again, in less than 10 hours.

On the sixth test I went to collect the accreditation in person. A plastic card that only serves to enter a huge press center at the Fair where no one with two fingers would go to work, because the Pope can only be seen through a screen. For each act, you were given an extra cardboard card that you had to show at each location. Despite having met all the requirements within the deadline and as it was supposed to, accreditations for my team, photos and a long et cetera were missing. But we made it.

And then yes, the excitement came. In the Olympic Stadium, 40,000 people were literally waiting for God. Since we were supposed to be there three hours early, I too thought I was seeing God when, at last, the Popemobile entered the scene and made its way. The crowd ran from the seats to the fences to be in the front row. Many mothers and fathers handed over their babies for the Pope to bless them, creating a priceless image: security men in suits and ties, tough and relentless, tenderly picking up babies here and there to bridge the gap between the parents and the Holy Father. I wanted to be Catholic as much as in October 2017 I wanted to be independent to give myself body and soul to the cause. And, without being, I was moved. The guy, charismatic and affable, raised his hand to greet a stand and the crowd went crazy with applause and cheers. I have not seen anyone cause such a sensation. Not even Rosalía. The Church must be recognized for its power for liturgy and mysticism, at least while the tour lasted. Then the vigil started and since I don’t belong to the club I got bored and left. As I descended from Montjuïc, with this filter between blue and pink that this wonderful city has at sunset, all the previous chaos was forgotten.