Forty years ago today I set off from Warsaw, with thousands of Poles, on the pilgrimage to Częstochowa. Martial law was still in effect and we walked through the capital like a liberating army. Citizens lined the streets to cheer us on, some of the older faces streaked with tears; workers in coveralls sat atop walls and gave us the V sign. As a foreigner, who had spent two and a half years in Poland, I felt a bit unworthy of the adulation, but at the same time it made me feel a part of the country as nothing else had. I walked in a kind of ecstasy.
