Movistar Papa2, Movistar Papa3

“You can connect to Movistar Papa2, Movistar Papa3, or Montserrat Wifi,” a journalist from Regió 7 explains to me. It’s almost eleven, all the faithful who have managed to get a spot, after the paperwork, to see the Pope in Montserrat have been in their assigned places for hours. Cordoned off – if you’ll forgive the rough word that has been used, all these days of paperwork – by fences in different areas. We, the reporters, are in a press room, in the majordomo’s building, with an imposing balcony overlooking the square, with the mountain in the background. Impossible to maintain atheism here.

"Graphics below, cameras have priority. Half an hour before he arrives, you won’t be able to move”, says a supervisor. “I’m from German national radio. I need an audio feed,” says a young man. He himself, upon hearing a rehearsal of the Virolai, will ask me, “What is this song?” I try to explain the concepts of “moreneta” and “morena de la serra,” and what the hymn, with lyrics by mossèn Cinto, meant during Francoism.

But I’ve been here since the early hours. I came up by car with a worker from the monastery. We passed the checks by the Mossos and took the seven-fifteen rack railway. A doctor from Martorell sat next to us, who had already been to see Pope Francis in Rome. On a poster, next to the window, the Catalan government’s greeting to the pontiff: “Hola, Papa.” I understand that they were mainly looking for a word that sounded the same in Catalan as in Spanish, in case anyone was offended, and that’s why they avoided the logical “Welcome to Catalonia.” “Hola, Papa” sounds like a child’s greeting when their parent arrives home.

“There are rumors that he’s coming by car and leaving by helicopter,” Xesco Reverter explains in the “atmosphere” connection for Melero. Núria Bacardit is preparing to do “a live report” for 3Cat.info. “

Carlos, this is about to start

,” says a cameraman on the phone. Outside, the shouts, applause, and displays of enthusiasm from the faithful are similar to what fans might give in front of a musician, to whom they also attribute, depending on the circumstances, a certain supernatural quality. And as in music, it is the women who externalize their emotion. The screams and hair-pulling will always be ours.

Before, once we arrived at the monastery, we went to queue for a coffee and, in that time, we befriended two Peruvian nuns, workers at the Sant Josep clinic in Vic. I invited them for 'tallats' and they revealed to me that “generosity returns to you multiplied”. They smiled. “Do you feel something inside, on a day like this?” the young one told me. And it was true that both had that relaxed face, like facial yoga, of religious women. “It’s a shame he’s from Madrid,” added the older one. They are Sister Gràcia and Sister Iris. “Look up!”, they told me as a farewell.

There isn't long to go until the arrival, and a worker, with a walkie-talkie hanging around his neck, gives us a paper with the Pope's speech and that of the abbot of Montserrat, “embargoed”, which means we cannot publish them until they are delivered. Outside, enthusiasm already dominates the attendees, who shout: “Papa, León, molas mogollón”, a rhyme that comes to replace that other one that went: “Juan Pablo, segundo, te quiere todo el mundo”. Linguistically, “Pablo” is harder to rhyme than “segundo”, and “León” is much easier than “catorce”. Fourteen, in Catalan, is very, very hard to rhyme, because of that “How much is seven and seven?” so typical of us, which always leads us to scatology. A man with a powerful voice roars: “Viva el Papa! Viva la Virgen!” The collective exaltation now, which has a necessary touch of the irrational, contrasts with the recollection of the early hours. “Yes, yes, yes!El papa ya está aquí!”, shout some girls from Christian schools.

”, sings the Pope (A, G, A, B flat, B flat, G, F, G, A, A). And finally, the “Most Holy Virgin, ora pro nobis”, sings the Pope (A, G, A, B flat, B flat, G, F, G, A, A). And finally, the Virolai. The Pope sings, in Catalan, reading from his papers in a white folder that says “Holy Rosary”. And when the voices, very much in tune, of the choirboys reach “Il·lumineu la catalana terra...”, the Pope rises and begins the ascent to the image of the Mother of God, before whom he will pray (this time without moving his lips). Then he goes out onto the balcony. Mossos d’esquadra, national police officers, journalists, monastery staff... Everyone is recording.

“Around two, ten past two, we will all leave together to catch the rack railway”, the press officer tells us, once everything is over. On the t-shirt he is wearing, black, I read: “Great things are coming”. We have just finished writing. “He has blessed many children, eh? –says a colleague–. “I think I’ll title it «The Pope of babies»”.