Beam Me Up, Scottie

As if the poor kids made to sing the Virolai weren’t sufficiently burdened, facing the wrath of the catholic monks, they also have to endure an invasion of desperate people in search of a passage to another world.

On the nights of the 11th each month, the road from Bruc to the monastery fills up with cars in pilgrimage to the holy mountain of Montserrat. A group of eccentrics, led by the guru and ‘contacted’ Josep Lluís Grifol, gather to marvel under the fairy-lights of the UFOs.

Looking stupefied at the sky, they’ll spend several hours sharing anecdotes compiled over the course of 31 years of intergalactic paranoia. Almost everyone has had a sighting at one point, predictably similar to scenes depicted in B-movies, supposed UFO recordings, and interpretations of Roswell-style aliens.

Oh, Montserrat. Putting up with Hitler in search of the Holy Grail, disappearances, the tics of the monks and nuns, creatures buried between the walls, a black virgin, telluric forces. And now, these kooks. We pray, for sake of the children, that these people find what they’re seeking.

UFO watchers meet on the 11th each month

by MSV