I have touched the Virgin of Luján. I didn’t expect to, and I didn’t think I’d want to (I’m probably the least religious person I know), but you only have to see the magic moving in this photo that C. took of me this weekend, to be certain that there’s potent energy in the little town of Luján, just 75 minutes northwest of Buenos Aires. And, by 5pm on Sunday afternoon, I wanted to say thanks for the chance to feel its restorative powers for myself. So, like hundreds of thousands of pilgrims have done before me, I stood in the queue inside the Basilica until I could look the tiny terracotta Virgin in the eye, placed the palm of my hand on the blue and gold fabric of her gown, and mouthed one word, Gracias. She smiled at me. And I smiled back.
The story goes that this 38cm high image of the Virgin Mary has been in Luján since 1630, when the cart, transporting her from Brazil to Buenos Aires, stopped, in what then was presumably a field in the middle of nowhere, and refused to move. If the image was lifted from the cart, the cart moved on. If the image was returned to the cart, the cart wouldn’t budge. The Virgin wants to stay here, said the people, It’s a miracle (milagro in Castellano)! And thus, she is there to this very day, safe inside her protective cone of a robe and her very own giant, freshly (the restoration is ongoing in 2009) sandblasted Basilica. What a glorious casa, is it not? And she’s never going to be lonely: even when God chucked down torrential rain for hours on Sunday morning, it seemed to me that half of Buenos Aires came to pay their respects, regardless. Whatever the miraculous capabilities of the little figurine of the Virgin actually are, I figure that the endless influx of believers alone must shoot the energy of the town sky-high, put strength on to its streets, and elevate its standing in the pyramid of the world’s sacred places. Until I set foot in the Plaza I didn’t know that for sure. Now I do.
Luján played games with Me and C. We tried to snap a daylight pic of the two of us with the Basilica in the background; we took about thirty shots on three separate occasions over two days; our best attempt resulted in one and a bit peaks poking out of our heads (as seen here on the left). How can we keep missing something that big? said a bemused C, over and over again. My night-time photos came out with an extra, beautiful and unexplained light between the two towers. And the ones I took of the little market stall, where some of the friendliest ladies on the planet turned me into a princess by adding trensas (colourful lengths of macrame and beads) to my hair, had a beautiful violet arc added to them – courtesy of who exactly? Of course I’m sure there are reasonable explanations for all these little mysteries. I’d rather not hear them thanks: it’s fun to believe that powers greater than myself like to play too.
They even led us to a decent hotel. The one we’d booked in advance turned out not to be quite our cup of tea (never reserve a hotel online if you can’t see the bedrooms), so we politely declined it once we’d seen the room (not easy, but we did it nicely), and the lovely man rang another place for us: we got the very last double (there’d been a cancellation); there was a heated swimming pool (heaven); and it was dead opposite the trensa stall, which we definitely wouldn’t have found otherwise. Our roundabout, but rather surely-meant-to-be route to the smart, clean, friendly and probably the best hotel in town – the Hoxon – was absolutely, all by itself, enough reason to touch the Virgin’s dress and say, Thanks.
What was I doing in Luján? Well, I confess that Buenos Aires has felt too full of late; I’ve felt emptier than I’d like; and it’s entirely my own fault. At times, despite my best efforts to create the life I want, I allow myself to drift towards a life I don’t actually want: too many commitments, too many people, and too little time for me, for writing, for finishing my book. This weekend was my attempt to step outside it all, be with the only soul in the world who can calm me (the man I love), and give myself a bit of space to work out what I really want to do tomorrow. Luján reassured me that whenever I need to, on any day or in any hour, I can stop, and decide against the suck back into rush. I don’t have to be in Luján to do it, but I had to go to Luján to be reminded of it.
So, in the quest to be true to myself, did it help me to touch the robe of the terracotta Virgin who once refused to be carried away from the space her heart desired? I think it did. Sometimes it’s the things I can’t explain that inspire me most of all.
If you’d like to see more of the little Virgin, and the Luján she created in Argentina, here are the pics on Flickr. If you want to go and visit her yourself, you can take the 57 Express bus from Plaza Once (Avenida Rivadavia, corner with Puerreydón) to Luján for $10.50pesos and you’ll be there in 75 minutes; you can stay in the Hoxon for $208pesos a night for a double room; and as a bonus after you’ve said, Hi to the Virgin, you can walk down to the smaller town-centre Plaza and see something else pretty inspiring – one of the most beautiful collections of trees and shrubs around. Could you do it in a day trip from Buenos Aires? Yes, although I’d avoid Sundays, unless you thrive on crowds: pick a weekday instead, and maybe get the Virgin to yourself.
