Mia goes to John Paul II's Theme Park

Does photoshop first come to mind? Well, believe it or not, this picture is as genuine as Mia's (my 7 month old daughter, spawn of an Irish and Polish immaculate conception) boredom at being brought to the surreal Beatification theme park that occured last weekend at the Temple of the Divine Providence (Świątynia Opatrzności Bożej) in the Miasteczko Wilanów district of Warsaw. The Temple is a musuem, but it's a church, but it's a museum, but it's a church. Oooops, sorry, you see, the only way they got about 40 million zł in taxpayers money was by designating it as a museum, and not a place of worship, which of course it is.



People from Poland and abroad were invited to send their picture to make up a montage of John Paul II to be hung on the date of his beatification in Rome by Pope Benedict XVI. The end product consisted of 105,000 photos of the flock.


The Faithful queued up to board the John Paul II beatification train -uuh, whatever that is supposed to mean! These brave folks waited for ages to go on, well, it has to be said, a pretty fucking lame trip around the area of the Temple on a beatification choo-choo. It capped off the theme park feel of the whole scenario. There was candy floss, fast food, helium balloons (with F-16's being a favourite amongst boys), real nuns in multi-coloured habits (something Ireland hasn't seen for a while), and the essential religious book stands pawning off an abundance of material on the former Holy Father. Let see now: Religion, Jesus, marketplace, tables - now where have I heard that narrative before?


The loyal disciples of John Paul II were glued to coverage of his escapades being shown on an enormous screen beside the montage, so much so that this man on the right, who was dying for a piss for at least 15 minutes point blank refused to head to the jacks until a commercial break appeared.



The Catholic Church's head for 27 years appears a bit chubby in this wind-proof work of idolatry. I pondered for a while as to how this may have come about, given the fact that he was such a strapping bulk of fitness all his life. It eventually dawned on me that the belly area of the montage consisted of an extraordinarily unblanaced amount of his fat followers, hence the unseemly largeness of his mid-section. How unfortunate.



This kind gentleman got wind of my appearance and donned my local hurling and gaelic football club's blue and yellow colours to make this Irishman in Wilanów - neither in designer clothes nor with a latte cup holder strapped to his crotch - feel a little more at ease and at home in this upwardly mobile, sinking residential area of Southern Warsaw.



And so Mia uttered "Mam dość" (I've had enough) of this whole debacle, let's get the fuck out of here. So we waded through the throngs of JPII flags and other paraphenalia, back towards our humble abode in the irreligious flat that is our home. Mia did a big dump to show her discontent at our choice for May 1st. Next time, she appeared to convey through her drooling dribble, bring me on a real outing to the May 1st Worker's march and not to some ridiculous fair organised by a cult that adores a man who helped cover up child abuse in his church for 27 years. "Wow", I thought to myself, "what an articulate young baby I have."