Rome, Italy: July 23-31, 2025

On June 11, I purchased a round-trip ticket to Rome on Emirates (US$922.10). On this return to the Eternal City after 18 years, I planned to walk the seven pilgrim churches with intention in this Jubilee 2025 year and attend the two-day Jubilee of Digital Missionaries and Catholic Influencers conference (€70 for the basic package registration plus four meals).

A pilgrimage offers me the chance to step away from daily life and refocus on what matters most: deepening my relationship with God and growing in love for Him and others. It's a spiritual reset — a deliberate pause to recalibrate my heart and renew my faith through sacred spaces, silence, and intentional prayer.

Day 1: The Journey to Rome

I didn't sleep much on my Emirates evening flight from Phnom Penh to Dubai (with a 2-hour layover in Singapore). Instead, I watched two movies (Oppenheimer and Conclave). The first meal out of Phnom Penh was excellent — rice curry with daal, bread, butter, and mango pudding. I was famished and devoured it. The breakfast on the 6.5-hour Singapore-Dubai sector, however, was disappointing: burnt, dry, salty scrambled eggs that I couldn't finish. I managed only the hash browns and mushroom compote. We landed in Dubai at 4:40 A.M.

The 4.5-hour layover in Dubai was my first time transiting through the airport, and everything felt novel — the Arabic script on signs, the endless perfume shops. Even the Emirates pre-flight video was in Arabic, which was a first for me. I found prices steep; 32AED was equivalent to about US$9. Still, the atmosphere was welcoming and cosmopolitan, with people of all nationalities working and transiting through.

The next flight to Rome departed at 9:10 A.M. on a spacious Airbus A380-800. I was grateful for my aisle seat in zone F, up front near the cockpit — the Khmer staff at the Emirates check-in counter had done me a huge favor. I was also able to charge my devices on board (be sure to bring the right adapters!).

During the second meal service, the flight attendant skipped the two young girls sitting across the aisle to my left. They were too polite to make a fuss and simply went without food. I didn't think this was right, so I pressed the call button for them since the female staff in the galley behind us seemed impossible to reach. After some time, a male steward came to ask what I needed. I explained that the girls hadn't been served — they had no food while the rest of us were nearly finished eating. He went to ask them what they wanted, and only then did the female attendant approach to follow up. She attended to them only after her male colleague intervened. Afterward, the girl to my left thanked me for speaking up. They were so sweet and non-confrontational — unlike me.

About 6.5 hours later, I arrived in Rome. I heaved a huge sigh of relief to see my checked suitcase appear on the conveyor belt — it had been handled at four airports (PNH, SIN, DXB, and finally FCO). I reminded myself to trust the process — to let go and not worry about things beyond my control.

Before leaving for Rome, I had purchased a Mamma Mia 10 GB - 30 Days eSIM from Airalo (US$24). As soon as I landed, I activated it on my phone, and it worked perfectly. Having reliable mobile data throughout my trip proved essential for navigation, translation, research, and staying connected.

To catch the Trenitalia Leonardo Express train from FCO to Roma Termini, I walked about five minutes to the train station. Two ticket staff at the gates told me I couldn't tap my credit card at the "Tap & Go" gate and would need to buy a ticket first. After fumbling around looking for the official seller — others were charging more than the €14 fare — I finally found the counter: a non-descript window with a Trenitalia sign clearly stating they sold the €14 ticket (note: they don't accept cash). Ticket in hand, I headed to platform 3 where an express train was preparing to depart. A staff member validating tickets by the tracks validated mine with the machine, and I quickly boarded. The train departed soon after, and about 30 minutes later, I arrived at Roma Termini.

The walk from the station to my lodging was challenging — I was lugging two suitcases in the bloody heat and sunshine. Some of the pavement was uneven, and the rocky cobblestone streets threatened to damage my suitcase wheels. In those sections, I had to carry both bags. As a budget traveler, I avoid taxis unless it's an emergency.

I stayed at a convent for eight nights, paying €448 (€50/night plus €6/night tourist tax to the Municipality of Rome) to an elderly religious sister during check-in. The room was large with three single beds (even though it was only me) and an ensuite bathroom. I was glad it was air-conditioned since Rome was as hot and humid as Phnom Penh in summer. Though the bathroom was spacious with a high ceiling, the shower stall was tiny, making it a challenge to wash my hair and body. That's Europe for you.

After settling in, I walked to the nearest supermarket, Pam Local, for an early take-out dinner: chicken bites with roasted vegetables and green olives, plus lasagna alla bolognese (€5). I also stopped at a fruit shop next door, run by Bangladeshi immigrants who spoke fluent Italian — which I found intriguing. I bought two large nectarines and a large peach for €3.70.

I had a nectarine for dessert, and it was delightful — so sweet and juicy, bringing me back to my year in Europe when I feasted on nectarines and peaches. They're hard to find affordably in Asia, and I don't remember seeing them much in the U.S. either. It was wonderful to enjoy them again.

Thanks be to God for being with me on this long and tiring day of travel.

Day 2 (July 24, 2025): Walking Pilgrimage from St. Peter's Basilica to St. Paul Outside the Walls

Breakfast was simple fare at the convent — cereal, hard bread, and hot drinks from a machine. The double espresso jolted me awake. It's really not about the quantity but the quality of coffee here in Italy.

I started my first day of pilgrimage at 8 A.M., walking to a nearby bus stop. Spotting a tabacchi (Italian for tobacco shop/newsstand) next to the stop, I bought 10 single metro/bus/tram tickets for €15. This was the most economical option for me since I only took public transportation twice a day. (The three-day ROMA72H pass at €18 for unlimited rides would be ideal if you plan to hop on and off frequently.)

I took bus 62 to St. Peter's Square, grateful for a window seat to film the journey. It was surreal to see St. Peter's Basilica again after 18 years. Back then, people called me signorina, but on this trip, I was more of a signora. Sigh, the inevitability of human aging.

I attended a 10 A.M. Mass inside St. Peter's (near the Chair of St. Peter). Later, after passing through the Holy Door, I entered the Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament, where I prayed and sat in silent adoration before Jesus. It was deeply moving, and I couldn't stop my tears. I felt both happy and sad — happy to finally have this chance to be with Jesus in this way; sad because I regrettably hadn't made enough time for Him in recent years. The last time I sat in adoration before our Lord was probably in Fatima, Portugal in 2014. I could truly feel Jesus's presence in the chapel. To see so many others there embracing Him in that moment was truly wonderful.

After exploring St. Peter's Basilica, I walked along the River Tiber to Ponte Sisto and then to Pizzeria La Boccaccia for lunch. I bought five large slices of different types of pizza with toppings like potatoes, mozzarella, blue cheese, basil, sundried tomatoes, and mushrooms (€14.50). The portions were huge, so I saved half for dinner later. They were delicious.

From there, I kept walking toward the Pyramid of Caius Cestius, stopping at a gelato place where I spent €3 for a two-flavor gelato cone (pistachio and lemon). I also bought a regular bottle of sparkling water (acqua con gas) for €1.20. Later, I came across fountains with water flowing freely, which I later learned were called nasoni (literally "large noses" in Italian). A lady was filling her small plastic bottle from one. When I looked at her perplexed, she said in English that I could drink from it, so I followed suit. She asked me where I was from — the FIRST person to ask me this question that day! I was craving encounters, even just in the convent dining room, but the two women who showed up early for breakfast didn't say much to me beyond polite greetings in Italian. I thought it would be like Montmartre's guesthouse at the Basilica of Sacré-Cœur in Paris, where staff and guests chatted me up so easily, but it wasn't to be this time. So it was SO nice to talk to a friendly stranger on the street. Her young son was with her, and I could tell he was dying to know what we were talking about in English. :)

After more walking, I finally arrived at the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls around 4:30 P.M. The basilica closes at 6:30 P.M. daily. I attended my second Mass of the day at 5 P.M. The atmosphere felt more personal and easy-going than St. Peter's:

1. Real candles instead of electric ones
2. A simple, straightforward Mass led by a single African priest (versus two priests at St. Peter's)
3. The tomb of St. Paul and the chain relics were accessible to pilgrims — unlike at St. Peter's, where only pre-reserved groups could get close to the steps leading down to St. Peter's tomb below Bernini's canopy (and even they couldn't descend to pray before the Apostle)
4. The crowds at St. Peter's sacristy made souvenir shopping impossible, but at St. Paul's I could browse in peace. The merchandise was better too — I spent €15.90 on three Pope Leo XIV official posters and a 2025 Jubilee book featuring Pope Leo XIV on the cover. Many souvenirs at St. Peter's still featured Pope Francis and other past popes.

I paid €3 to enter the cloister at St. Paul Outside the Walls. The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the central garden was SILENCE. It was profound... as if time stood still. I wished I had more time to linger, but the church was closing, so I hurried my pace.

On the return journey, I waited over an hour for bus 23 from the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls. Apparently, due to traffic conditions, buses in and around Rome are notoriously unreliable and don't follow the timetable. My persistence paid off when I finally boarded the crowded bus and stood in the back for the long ride to central Rome.

To make matters worse, the bus's map display was broken, so I had to pull out my phone to track my stop on Google Maps. A woman near me asked for help as well since her phone battery had died, so when her stop approached, I told her to get ready. Thank God for my power bank — my phone would have died long ago without it. I charged my phone at every rest break to extend its battery life. I'm truly helpless without my phone as I use it not only for navigation and translation, but also as my camera to capture every moment. It's really changed the way I travel.

En route on a connecting bus (62) back to the convent, I witnessed a scene: a young Chinese tourist claimed that a man had pickpocketed €100 from her small white hanging purse. The guy denied it, even showing his empty pockets, but he quickly exited at the next stop. The tourist and her companions followed after him, but he fled the stop instantly.

Day 3 (July 25, 2025): Walking from St. Sebastian Outside the Walls to St. John Lateran and Holy Cross in Jerusalem

The 30-minute tour of the Catacombs of San Sebastiano (€10/adult) was mind-blowing. It was my first time walking inside an underground burial place of pagans, martyrs, and early Christians from the second to fourth centuries.

Walking down the steps and into a narrow passageway, I immediately entered a cool, dark, and eerie atmosphere. In some areas, the ceiling was so low I had to duck.

(Photos below - courtesy of Google as photography wasn't permitted in the tour)

The tour guide mentioned that grave robbery was rampant at that time. According to legend, the mortal remains of Apostles Peter and Paul were hidden here briefly for about six years during the persecutions. The word "catacomb" literally means "near the quarry" in Ancient Greek or Late Latin. After the persecution years ended, their remains were moved to their current locations.

The remains of St. Sebastian were also brought to this catacomb. A captain in the Roman army, he was martyred for secretly converting to Christianity, refusing to denounce his faith, and converting other soldiers. Emperor Diocletian sentenced him to death by arrows. The archers left him for dead, but the pious widow St. Irene of Rome retrieved his body and discovered he was still alive. She nursed him back to health. After his recovery, Sebastian confronted the emperor about his sins and cruelty. This time, Diocletian ordered him beaten to death with clubs. He was martyred this way around 286 A.D.

Mausoleums were discovered in the 1920s, and today the Basilica of St. Sebastian Outside the Walls sits above the mausoleums and catacomb.

From San Sebastian Outside the Walls, I walked along the Appian Way and through Roman neighborhoods toward St. John Lateran. It was unbearably hot and sunny, but I reasoned that my physical discomfort and exhaustion were nothing compared to the experiences of the martyrs and early Christians who were buried in catacombs outside Rome. Still, as I got closer, my phone began overheating and shutting down, drained from continuous filming. It was a sign to stop and seek shelter to cool down — not just for my phone but for myself as well. I found a supermarket and entered. Inside, the air-conditioned coolness hit my overheated body with refreshing relief. I found a table by the deli and sat down to recharge my phone's battery and my own, grateful for the dark interior.

After walking through the Holy Door of St. John Lateran and exploring the vast interior and serene cloister (€4 entrance fee), I headed toward the adjacent Sancta Scala (Holy Stairs) sanctuary. St. Helena, mother of Emperor Constantine, brought the stairs to Rome after her pilgrimage to the Holy Land around 326-328 A.D. These 28 marble stairs are traditionally believed to be the very staircase that Jesus climbed during His trial before Pontius Pilate in Jerusalem.

Climbing the stairs was free, but entry to the Sancta Sanctorum Chapel on the upper floor to see the Acheropita icon of Christ (believed to be not made by human hands) cost €3.50. I paid the additional fee, though when I arrived, I saw at least two individuals climbing over the rope to view the icon without paying, which annoyed me. The guard did nothing but give them a stern look.

I climbed the Holy Stairs on my knees in devotion, and the experience was hard and painful. I was aptly reminded of Christ's suffering and death on the cross. I kept focusing on that because it was all I could see — Jesus Christ on the cross, a fresco directly facing us pilgrims as we climbed. However, when I reached the last few stairs at the top, my gaze shifted to Christ's ascension into heaven, depicted in the fresco on the left, with God the Father looking down on Jesus and on us. I prayed the Jesus prayer at the end. Though the initial suffering was tough, the promise of salvation and new life made everything better. Hope rises where pain lives.

I realized that we shouldn't focus too much on the pain. Yes, I cried a fair bit in the beginning and middle, but I rejoiced when I saw Christ's ascension — it made all the difference. There is hope! There is new life and renewal. This calls us to trust in the Lord that all will be well.

I made my last pilgrimage of the day to the Basilica of the Holy Cross in Jerusalem (Santa Croce in Gerusalemme), where I saw the Passion relics of Christ: fragments of the crown of thorns, fragments of the True Cross, a nail, and the wooden title from the cross. These were also brought to Rome from Jerusalem by St. Helena.

At the end of the pilgrimage, I sat down to contemplate inside the dim interior of the Basilica of the Holy Cross in Jerusalem. Having seen the catacombs, the Holy Stairs, and the Passion relics all in one day, that's when it hit me — all the suffering endured by our Lord Jesus Christ was born of LOVE. His love is the thread woven through all suffering. His sacrifice wasn't purposeless; it was for our salvation. Christ's death paid for our sins. The same goes for the martyrs and early Christians — they too died for love, in response to the love they had received from Christ and the Father. I realized the theme of the day was Descent Then Ascent. There's hope even in death because of Christ's resurrection. This calls us to let go and trust in God.

Dinner was a San Francisco hot flatbread from La Piadineria, a fast-food chain in Rome. The portion was huge and filled with fresh cream cheese, salmon, lettuce, and avocado — tasty and filling for €8.60. Apparently, this flatbread originated from the historical region of Romagna, Italy. The bread is called piada in Italian.

Then I walked to a gelato place around the corner called Gelateria La Romana. I ordered pistachio and strawberry for €3.50. This place has a following, and I could see why — their servings were bigger with generous toppings. I got a choice of traditional or chocolate cone, white or brown chocolate drizzle, a wafer on top, and more. It was a satisfying end to a heart-heavy day.

Day 4 (July 26, 2025): Walking from St. Lawrence Outside the Walls to St. Mary Major (Santa Maria Maggiore)

I started my day's pilgrimage at St. Lawrence Outside the Walls, a historic papal minor basilica that still bore signs of war among its ancient columns. The basilica was built over the tomb of St. Lawrence, a deacon martyred during Roman persecutions in 258 A.D. It also holds the relics of St. Stephen, the first martyr.

I ended my three-day walking pilgrimage to the seven pilgrim churches at St. Mary Major, where Pope Francis and other popes are buried.

Throughout the past three days, one unifying theme stood out: LOVE. Where it was present, harmony, smiles, gratitude, and gentleness followed. Where it was lacking, hostility, rudeness, and aggression played out.

Reflecting on this Roman pilgrimage, I had unfortunately encountered more coldness than warmth from the residents of Italy's capital, to my great surprise:

1. Aggression can be active — like the elderly Italian man who berated me because he thought I had cut the line in front of him while waiting to pray at Pope Francis's tomb. I couldn't even say a silent prayer to the late pope as the man loudly chastised me in Italian for a perceived affront. To be honest, I was in line but had stopped briefly to film. When I rejoined the queue, he must have thought I had suddenly cut in (which I hadn't — but even if I had, what's the big deal?). He asked if I understood what he was saying. I shook my head and replied, "La pace (peace) to you" in my broken Italian. He sneered. His inability to receive peace was telling. It was unfortunate that he soured what I'd hoped would be a sacred moment communing with the late Pope Francis.

2. Then there's passive aggression — like the convent cleaner who moved my suitcases two days in a row. She did not come to change the bedsheets. Rather, she was more concerned about the suitcases being on the beds. There were three single beds in my room, so I laid my suitcases on one of them for easy access. Why should housekeeping even care where they were placed? Isn't it the guests' prerogative to arrange their belongings? Never in my stays at various other establishments had I experienced housekeepers touching and moving my items. I found it appalling that religious sisters cared more about objects than about love and courtesy for their guests. They're supposed to be servants of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, yet I did not feel safe or welcomed there.

3. Finally, there was more hostility and rudeness — like the encounter at the Sancta Scala souvenir shop. I approached a religious sister at the counter to pay for the cards and photos I'd picked up, which totaled €5.20. The nun, who appeared to be South Asian, insisted in a harsh and aggressive tone that I give her exact change as she didn't want to break my €20 bill. I insisted, and she reluctantly checked her register, which was full of cash in different denominations! She didn't even thank me for the purchase, walking away immediately after handing me the change. I stopped myself from confronting her, even though I badly wanted to tell her that her attitude was a poor reflection on Christians. She did not show love, light, or warmth. It's a shame — moving from a sacred space filled with reverence, where pilgrims carry prayers up marble steps, to being met with unnecessary hostility over something so small. The whole situation was deeply ironic.

So even though Rome has over 900 churches, it doesn't mean that all the people there live out their faith in loving kindness, peace, joy, and humility. Perhaps I expected a bit more from Roman residents, especially those in religious orders, but like the lighthouse analogy, there's profound darkness at the bottom of the lighthouse. The sting of hypocrisy when those in religious roles act without compassion is real. They may seem to be close to their faith, but there's hardly any light shining from them. Sad to say, they do not reflect Christianity well.

I should note that not everyone I met was unkind. Right after leaving Sancta Scala, I encountered two warm and friendly sisters from the Missionaries of Charity on the street. They spontaneously wished me buon giorno as I walked past them while filming — a welcome contrast that felt like night and day. All of them religious sisters, some good, some not so much. But overall, I experienced more coldness than warmth during my time in Rome, which was disappointing.

After a meaningful spiritual journey walking from church to church with reverence and openness, to have those sacred moments diminished by petty human behavior... it hurts. Despite these discouraging interactions, I tried to stay graceful and centered. This turned out to be another form of pilgrimage — responding with grace and walking forward, choosing restraint and wisdom, without letting these experiences harden me. As a pilgrim of discernment, I see both the light and the shadow. I recognize now that vocation doesn't always guarantee virtue. Believe me, processing all of this was part of the purification process.

I will end this blog here. If you have time, please watch my "in-between moments" in the video below. Thank you for reading, and for walking with me in spirit. May God bless you. Peace!

Next post: Returning to Hanoi, Vietnam After 19 Years: A Vacation with My Parents (August 11-15, 2025)

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Pilgrims of Hope: A Journey of Faith, Story, and Digital Witness

Introduction: The Road to Belonging

Next month, I'll be heading to Rome to attend the Jubilee of Digital Missionaries and Catholic Influencers. This pilgrimage offers the rare grace of passing through the Holy Door (Porta Sancta) at St. Peter's Basilica - opened only once every 25 years in a Jubilee year. The theme of the 2025 Jubilee, as declared by Pope Francis, is "Pilgrims of Hope."

Every Jubilee is a sacred call to spiritual renewal, reconciliation, and pilgrimage - a timely invitation to re-center my life, place God first, and surrender everything into His hands.

When I registered for the Digital Missionaries conference, I was asked to respond to several questions - not simple yes-or-no inquiries, but ones that prompted deep reflection.

In this post, I'd like to share how I became a Roman Catholic - spiritually, culturally, and personally.

A Search for Home: Why I Became Catholic

Let me begin with my personal background. Although I was raised in an unreligious family, my father - who attended a Catholic boys' school - naturally became my first Catholic influencer, even though he himself was never baptized. Of all the movies he brought my brother and me to see, the one I most vividly remember watching as a little girl was Jesus of Nazareth. Strange, isn't it?

My parents enrolled me in a Catholic girls' school for two years in Malaysia. It was there that my curiosity about Catholicism was first sparked - by angels and saints, and of course, by Jesus. I would often slip away into the school chapel. No one taught me to pray, but I instinctively knew I could speak to God. What troubles did I carry as a 7- or 8-year-old? I was a lazy student ~ I simply disliked studying. As exams approached, I feared failure. So, I went to the chapel to pray. Of course, I failed. But that never discouraged me from praying. I always knew I could talk to God. And even when my prayers weren't answered, somehow, that was okay.

Years later, after moving to Singapore, a woman approached me on the bus and started talking about church. I took her contact details and promised to join her that Sunday. When my father found out, he wouldn't let me - a minor - go out with a stranger. Instead, he personally brought me to a Catholic church. From then on, we occasionally attended Mass together, though we remained unbaptized. I remember standing in the back during Communion, watching as others lined up, wishing I could join them. But Dad said I couldn't. And so we waited quietly until Mass ended. 

Over time, I began attending Mass on my own or with friends. Gradually, I came to know the rhythm of the Catholic liturgy - its rituals, prayers, and silences - even though I was still uninitiated.

Looking back, I realize how often Roman Catholics gently surrounded me. In junior college in Singapore, a close friend and I attended novenas every Saturday after our half-day classes, followed by lunch at a food court - our two-year routine. In college in the U.S., two Korean friends took me to Mass at the Newman Center in Lexington, Kentucky. I wouldn't have gone otherwise. At work, I grew close with my Singaporean manager, also Catholic - he even gifted me a Bible. During a season of personal struggle, I joined the Catholic Community at Stanford and found positive influences and comfort in the people there. Later, in the Netherlands during my MBA studies, a Colombian friend and I attended the only English Vigil Mass held in the crypt of the Onze Lieve Vrouwe Basiliek.

At every one of those Masses, I observed but never partook of the Eucharist. Eventually, I discovered that I could approach the priest for a blessing by crossing my arms across my chest. I tried this once on Easter Island, but the priest didn't recognize the gesture. We stood awkwardly for a moment until I stepped aside. I suppose that form of blessing wasn't practiced there.

Because of my itinerant nature, my fear of commitment, or perhaps my own pride, I kept postponing baptism. I knew I could find peace in church, yet I didn't feel ready to dedicate myself fully.

That changed in the summer of 2010. I had settled in Boston and, after all my moving, felt it was time to stop wandering. I began RCIA (the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) in Boston and later transferred to St. Clare Parish in Santa Clara, California, in the Diocese of San Jose. There, at the Easter Vigil on April 23, 2011, I was baptized into the Roman Catholic Church by Father George Aranha.

At the Altar of the World: RCIA and The Eucharist

My RCIA formation lasted about eight months. A group of eight of us gathered nearly every Tuesday evening in the rectory at St. Clare Church. Some of us were preparing for Confirmation; others, like me, for baptism. The program was lovingly led by Diane and Cathy, who guided us with patience and wisdom.

Above: Diane (left) and Cathy (right)

We learned about the mystery of the Holy Trinity - God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit - and explored the Church's seven sacraments: Baptism, Confirmation, Eucharist, Penance (or Reconciliation), Anointing of the Sick, Holy Orders, and Matrimony. These sacraments are not just rites; they are channels of grace that draw us deeper into intimacy with the Lord.

Later, we learned about the saints and their role in the Church. Saints were holy men and women who lived exemplary Christian lives and serve as models of faith and intercessors in heaven - though we do not pray to them as we pray to the Triune God. As part of our RCIA journey, we were invited to choose a Confirmation saint - someone we admired and felt a spiritual affinity with. I chose St. Francis of Assisi, whose humility, love for nature, and surrender to God resonated deeply with me.

Above left: Rite of Sending at St. Clare Church - I inscribed my name in the Book of the Elect; Above right: Rite of Election at the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Joseph in San Jose, California, with Monsignor Francis Cilia (March 14, 2011)

Even now, 14 years later, I find myself moved when witnessing the Sacrament of Confirmation. Recently, at a Confirmation Mass in Phnom Penh, I saw a young boy choose Blessed Carlo Acutis as his Confirmation saint. Knowing that Blessed Carlo Acutis will be canonized on September 7, 2025, as the first millennial saint, filled me with joy and hope for the next generation.

Of all the sacraments, it is the Eucharist that anchors my spiritual life. I can still remember the overwhelming emotion of receiving the Holy Communion for the first time following my baptism. Tears welled up in my eyes as I knelt, mindful of Christ's sacrifice on the Cross and His abiding presence in the consecrated host. My soul had been ransomed by our Good Shepherd, and I was now fed by His grace.

To this day, every time I receive the Eucharist, I feel that same sacred trembling. It is a gift too profound to articulate fully - a quiet miracle that continues to nourish, sustain, and sanctify.

Sacred Symbols, Shared Peace

What I love most about the Roman Catholic Church is her universality, fraternity, and solidarity. Everywhere I've traveled, I've found the same Mass ritual - a shared language of prayer that transcends geography. The only variation might be the local vernacular during the liturgy or homily, but the structure remains deeply familiar.

Whether in French, Spanish, Italian, Croatian, Portuguese, or even Pascuan, the Mass always unfolds in these sacred movements:

• The Introductory Rites with the penitential act, Kyrie, and Gloria
• The Liturgy of the Word with Scripture readings, homily, Creed, and prayers of the faithful
• The Liturgy of the Eucharist, including the presentation of gifts, the Eucharistic Prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, the sign of peace, the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God), Communion, and finally,
• The Concluding Rites with the final blessing and dismissal

This rhythmic flow of communal worship remains unchanged, no matter the country or continent. It’s as if I am never far from home.

Among the most poignant moments in the Mass is the sign of peace. From a warm hug in Texas to two pecks on the cheeks in Fátima, Portugal, to simple handshakes paired with "Peace be with you" in countless tongues, the gesture always feels authentic. In that moment, strangers dissolve into siblings, united in Christ. Language holds no barrier; love needs no translation.

Culturally, the Roman Catholic Church speaks through her architecture. Her cathedrals across Europe are monumental testaments to faith and imagination. Their grandeur proclaims the beauty of divine mystery - each stone and spire a silent witness to centuries of belief.

Above: On the Camino de Santiago, with Burgos Cathedral in the background - a silent sermon of stone, light, and centuries of faith.

Here’s an excerpt from my book, “Raised with Him: A Journey of Grace from Valley to Heavenly Perspectives and Realities,” that reflects this reverence:

"These beautiful yet complex cathedrals, whether they are Gothic, Renaissance, or Baroque, portray a window to the transcendent: the cruciform plan of a nave and transepts reminding us of Jesus Christ's death on the cross to redeem humanity, the towering spires stretching and reaching for the celestial city, the glorious stained glass windows illumining church members with Bible stories, the ornate sculptures of Christ, saints, seraphin, and cherubim standing by the columned interior walls as imageries of faith, the rib vault ceiling (in Gothic architecture) protecting and supporting the long church nave leading to the altar, the thick round pillars buttressing the basilica, the candles' flame burning for believers' prayers, hopes, and thanksgivings, the old air permeating the holy space and sacred ground, the adjacent peristyle cloister and manicured green lawn (sometimes with a Cypress tree growing tall and upright as a reminder to stand up for truth and righteousness) offering an ode to God's creation in nature, and the arched hall and doorways lifting our vision and spirit to a higher plane. These cathedrals were carefully and piously built with not just stones but virtuosos' heart of noble faith." (p. 99)

In these sacred spaces, I find not only beauty - but belonging.

Sacred Music and Spiritual Intellect

One of the many things that strikes me about the Roman Catholic Church is its music. I love listening to "Pange lingua gloriosi corporis mysterium," which translates to "Sing, my tongue, the mystery of the glorious body," a medieval Latin hymn composed by St. Thomas Aquinas for the Feast of Corpus Christi. Its solemn beauty reflects the reverence due to the Eucharist, drawing the soul into contemplation.

I'm also deeply drawn to Gregorian chant, especially from the monks of Santo Domingo de Silos. I was blessed to hear their sacred voices firsthand during my Camino de Santiago pilgrimage in 2014, when I detoured to Santo Domingo de Silos for a couple of nights. It was an otherworldly experience to immerse myself in their prayer services at the Church of San Sebastián de Silos.

Here's an excerpt from my book that captures that moment:

"The monastery's gentle, godly, and graceful monks clad in plain black robes were a great influence on me. I admired their holy lives of sacred devotion, discipline, and divine singing of Gregorian chant in their daily prayer services, a tradition they have kept since the 11th century.... their a cappella choral music bears witness to God and brings relief, healing, and blessings to many stressed-out people in the world. As I listened to the monks' pure, heavenly vocals echoing soft, prayerful melodies around the church's dim sanctuary, I felt blessed to be a part of their ethereal worship of our benevolent God. My internal world felt rightly ordered in Santo Domingo de Silos. Not only did I gain peace of heart and breadth, depth, and clarity of mind, but I also felt closer to God as I detoxed from stimulants on the Camino and in life." (p. 127)

Music, for me, is not just artistic expression - it’s a form of prayer that transcends words.

Equally transformative are the intellectual treasures of the Church. I've long admired the writings of the early doctors of the Church like St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Augustine of Hippo, St. John Henry Newman, and St. Catherine of Siena. Their teachings enlighten my mind and deepen my faith. St. Catherine of Siena spoke of discernment through intense self-awareness (of our sinfulness and nothingness), contrasted with the knowledge of God's grace and fullness. But even earlier, it was St. Augustine who urged us to turn inward through what he called "textured interiority." But spiritual maturity isn’t only an inward journey - it also involves cultivating the mind. As St. John Henry Newman wrote, "There is beauty in a cultivated mind."

That balance between inner growth and intellectual depth continues to shape my journey. I try to stay attuned to both ancient and modern voices. One recent piece that stirred my thoughts was “Paradox, Seeming Inconsistency, and Tension” by Fr. Ron Rolheiser - a reflection on the mystery and richness of faith that defies easy answers.

In truth, much of my spiritual and emotional growth has come from a blend of experiences:

1. Travel, which broadened my empathy and perspective
2. 12-step meetings I attended in the U.S., where I learned to take personal responsibility and examine my motives
3. And above all, Scripture, which continues to renew my heart, mind, and soul

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1). That verse continues to reveal new dimensions each time I read it. When I began journaling meaningful passages, I found myself softening... transforming. Scripture is mysterious, yet honest, real, and deeply powerful.

Recent developments in the life of the Church have stirred a new kind of curiosity in me. The election of an American Pope - Pope Leo XIV on May 8, 2025 - has revived my interest in the Vatican and its inner workings. Pope Leo XIV struck me as introspective, wise, humble, and serene. Since his election, I've found myself drawn to Roma and Vatican news, something I had never paid much attention to before. As I read about the cardinals' backgrounds, I've been inspired by their multilingual abilities, rich education, and the breadth of pastoral and cultural experiences they bring to the Church.

Digital Mission, Ancient Faith

So we come to the heart of this post.

When I first created this blog, I never envisioned it as a form of mission work. Back then, terms like "digital missionary" or "content creator" weren't part of the conversation. I simply saw blogging as a hobby - a space to document my travels. But as time went on and my faith in Christ deepened, this blog became something more: a quiet outpouring of gratitude - a platform to proclaim that the Good Lord is my unfailing hope.

I’ve always enjoyed writing, photography, and travel, so this platform became a natural expression of all three. Now it feels like something sacred: a way to bring good news and publish peace (Nahum 1:15). I’ve been humbled by the kind words from readers around the world:

"Your blog is full of inspirations to travel. Congratulations."

"I love the thoroughness of your photoessays."

"THANK YOU for the beautiful pictures Janet"

"I found your blog while following my brother and sister in law's journey in Portugal. Very exciting to see so much of the world. Gives one a unique perspective. Bless you."

"You are indeed a (pretty) citizen of the world. I apreciate [sic] the detailed report you made about Porto, Portugal. You are a very sensitive and well instructed person. Next time you come to Portugal, send me an email. I will be glad to invite you for a dinner with my wife. I will show you a little more about Portuguese food. Now, I am going to look at your blog with more detail. Have a good life!"

"Sandra, I've read many a blog and "travel log" over the years and here's what I've noticed:

1. You are religious in heart, mind and soul

2. You say what's on your mind...warts and all

3. Living life in God's light is your focus.

4. You have a great sense of humor

Saludos,

Arn"

"Hello, I have just finished reading all your blog entries from Bayonne. It has taken me all afternoon. I came across your blog by google search as I still love all things Camino. Your photos are wonderful and you came across so positively, with a great philosophy and spirit. That El Acebo incident reminded me of a couple of horror nights too when I walked the Camino in the summer of 2013. Thank you so much for sharing this with the world and not keeping it private....I took a peek too at your other trips and am amazed you have managed to do so much on a modest budget. Very inspirational. Thank you again and God bless :)"

"Hi Sandra: nice to read something from you again. I am deeply touched by your sharing. You are such a practical and down to earth lady. "

"que lindas fotos...yo vivo en chile en santiago , pero vivi muchos años en Valparaiso cerro Alegre...

Saludos.Gracias por vivitar mi pais."

These comments remind me that the effort is worth it - not for recognition, but for connection.

In 2024, I began nurturing a second platform: my YouTube channel. Initially, it was just a personal archive. But as I experimented with editing and filming, I discovered how visual storytelling adds another layer of depth. From cat videos to lifestyle vlogs, I gradually invested in tools like a gimbal and a new phone to sharpen my footage and stabilize my hand.

The learning curve has been steep - editing takes time, focus, and energy I can’t always afford. Digital mission is not my full-time work. Still, every new video posted, every new subscriber gained, feels like a quiet affirmation to keep going.

While my channel doesn’t follow a single theme, I’ve curated playlists for topics I love - my cat, the Camino, Cambodia, etc. - and soon, a new one: Christianity. I know people aren’t always comfortable with religious content. But I believe it can be offered gently and authentically through glimpses of Scripture, the quiet presence of a cross, the simple joy of a life lived well in worship. Christianity isn’t boring; it’s vibrant, deep, and alive. In my own way, I hope to show that.

Authenticity matters to me, but so does reverence. I want my content to reflect beauty, dignity, and truth. I’m not here to pander to trends, but to reflect a life that glorifies God in the ordinary.

Many of my viewers are young: Gen Z and Millennials. Each group brings its own rhythms, its own spiritual hunger. It isn’t easy to reach everyone, but it’s encouraging to hear that more Millennials, especially men, are exploring traditional faiths like Catholicism. I hold hope for them, and for us.

Some of the themes closest to my heart - surrender, reconciliation, courage, stillness, gratitude, and growth - are deeply Catholic, yet universally human. If I can express those truths through a lens of beauty and faith, perhaps that’s mission enough.

May this blog and my YouTube channel be a light to reveal our Lord Jesus Christ to the young and old. And may whatever fruit comes from them be pleasing to the eyes of God.

The Jubilee in Rome: A Modern Pilgrimage

This will be my first Jubilee, though not my first pilgrimage. Like those before it, I hope this sacred journey will draw me closer to Jesus Christ and to my fellow spiritual brothers and sisters. I'm also excited to engage with other digital missionaries - sharing insights, learning new creative tools, and exploring meaningful collaborations.

This trip marks a return to Rome, but it feels entirely different from my visit in 2007. Then, I checked off the must-see tourist sites like the Colosseum, the Forum, Pantheon, and Trevi Fountain. Now my eyes are set not so much on marble and monuments, but on mercy and meaning.

I hope to walk through the Holy Door, to attend a public appearance by Pope Leo XIV, and to experience the Eternal City through the lens of devotion. I’ve mapped out a more intentional itinerary: all seven pilgrim churches of Rome, including the four major papal basilicas, each a beacon of faith through the centuries. At Saint Mary Major, one of these four, I will offer prayers in remembrance of Pope Francis.

This time, I come not only as a traveler, but as a witness; not only to see, but to seek. This pilgrimage is no longer just about place; it is about presence - of God, of others, and of my own reawakened purpose.

I look forward to it.

Next post: Seven Sacred Thresholds — A Jubilee Pilgrimage Through Rome

Previous post: San Francisco Bay Area, California, USA

The Making of "Raised with Him: A Journey of Grace from Valley to Heavenly Perspectives and Realities"

I recently debuted a book. Though it was self-published, I wouldn't have been able to work through the whole process myself without the counsel, strength, and assist of God. Lest I forget, I'd like to recount below the entire workflow from start to finish:

Writing: While I've been toying with the idea of writing a book for some time, the morning of February 9, 2019 was defining as I clearly received an insight from the Holy Spirit nudging me to write. What I was to write about wasn't clear to me yet, but whatever it was, I knew the content must glorify the Lord. That night, I started drafting my manuscript. As days turned into weeks and then months, the manuscript started to take shape, and I slowly but surely made progress. The schools' shutdown in Cambodia in 2020 due to COVID-19 was a blessing in disguise as it afforded me time and space to write. Still, because of the book's focus on God, I got push back from the ancient enemy. Spiritual attacks like dark clouds hovering over me, laptop issues (including a dead hard drive that almost cost me all my saved files and folders!), distractions, and at least two illnesses came my way. I kept writing and continuously prayed for God's inspiration, wisdom, and counsel. The more I resisted and prayed, the firmer my writing resolve became. I finally finished writing the last chapter on December 22, 2020. 

Editing: However, I was only half way done! The next step was editing. I've lost count of the number of times I had read and edited the entire manuscript for not just redundancy, clarity, and organization but also the compliance of Scripture verses portrayed and the number of verses allowed for fair copyright use. In February 2021, I shared my manuscript with a couple of friends. After my friend Christina suggested I add theme titles to paragraphs, I amended the manuscript yet again for the umpteenth time. To meet the Easter Sunday launch of April 4, 2021, I scrambled to finish the editing and tie up loose ends in the Appendix, About the Author, and Dedication.

Publishing: The next step is to research Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP)'s self-publishing terms. Their e-platform suits me as there are no huge upfront costs for printing and setting up (as opposed to using a traditional publisher). KDP employs a print-on-demand model and has a worldwide reach and distribution. Also, at 60-70% royalty per book depending on format, it's a no-brainer. I also looked into metadata details like writing a simple yet compelling and professional book description and choosing keywords and book categories. While setting up my KDP account, I was prompted to enter an ISBN (short for International Standard Book Number). After reading up about it, I decided to get my own ISBN for the paperback (instead of using KDP's free ISBN) since I have plans to distribute the book outside of Amazon and its distributors. I purchased one from Bowker at a discounted price of $99 (u.p. $125). It took about 3 days for Bowker to confirm my assigned ISBN-13, which I applied to my paperback on KDP. EBooks generally do not need an ISBN. (Click here to learn more about ISBN.)

Paperback Formatting: There was a learning curve to formatting the manuscript on MS Word. From setting up the paper size, interior margins, and Table of Contents page to adding custom page numbers, headers, and various sections, I managed it all from scratch. After reading up on KDP's specs, I also learned that the trim size (i.e. the book's physical size) does not affect the print cost per book; rather, the number of pages does. As a result, I reformatted my manuscript from the previous 5.75" (w) x 8" (h) to a 6" (w) x 9" (h) trim - the latter is apparently a popular trim size for most US paperbacks. This change reduced the number of pages from 300 to 254.

EBook Formatting: The formatting of the eBook manuscript was similarly challenging. I downloaded the free Kindle Create software to assist me in formatting and creating the preferred KPF (Kindle Package Format) files so the eBook can easily flow and fit all devices (tablet, phone, and Kindle). Because page count was no longer a concern, I increased the Scripture font size and spacing. After a couple of uploads onto KDP, I finally got it to work.

Book Cover: Because I'm not one to outsource a job before I've at least given it the old college try, I decided to design my own book cover for both the eBook and paperback formats. I had no idea it was going to be that tedious! For the paperback, the trim sizes, margins, and spine width and text size must be sized precisely based on the book's trim and number of pages. The paperback image must also be at least 300 dpi (dots per inch) in resolution. Thank goodness for the Internet, I found answers in just a few clicks. Based on my book's trim of 6" x 9", the resolution of my cover photo must be at least 1800 pixels x 2700 pixels. To design, I used Canva, a free and user-friendly site. When I encountered problems with the cover after uploading it onto KDP several times, I realized the cover guide size I had downloaded from KDP was incorrect. It was a guide for a 6" x 9" 260-page book, which had a different spine width. Since KDP did not offer a custom cover guide for a 6" x 9" 254-page book (for whatever reason) and the free version of Canva did not allow me to resize my cover design, I found the only solution to be in good-ole MS Word. There, I was able to set the cover size precisely to the 254-page trim sizes, margins, and spine width and text size.

So there, after all that's been said and done, I'm pleased to announce that the eBook and paperback formats of Raised with Him are now live and available for purchase in Amazon. 

As challenging as it was, I've learned a lot from this opportunity, and I thank the Lord for His continued benevolence, guidance, and protection. I hope you'll enjoy reading the book, and may it encourage and be a blessing to you! If you have read it, thank you for your support, and I hope you could leave a rating or review of Raised with Him on Goodreads.

Every blessing to you. Pax et agape.

Next Post: Tokyo, Japan: July 1-5, 2023

Previous Post: Battambang, Cambodia - 21-25 September 2018