As you see from this 'Clout' article by Gar Joseph, I will have my hands full for the next few weeks hunting down miracles and you guys will have a front row seat to my personal quest. Some things will have to remain a mystery for now so you tune in when it airs on Travel Channel, but I will give you the inside scoop about the miracles, locations, and how in the world you pack for hunting miracles and what music you bring :)

Believer or skeptic, I hope to challenge your assumptions through my search for evidence and transcendence. We will all be pushed to the borders of human understanding. As many of you know I am a practicing Catholic, but I am sure you have also noticed that I am a maverick and contrarian by nature, so this should be fun. I believe in miracles and as I told Gar, one of the questions will be 'What is a miracle?' In the end, I am sure there will not be tons of answers, but we sure will have a lot to talk about.

Please be patient if the blogging is at times light, which I hope it won't be, but some locations will not have e-mail access. Also, send in guest blogs so we can hear different voices while I am away and you can give me a break one night for me to check out the local scene :) All Miracle Hunter entries will be identified with this picture and we will have a separate section for it as well.

I want all of you to know that Gar sharing this info with others before my family and Citizen Hunters got to hear about it is the exception to the rule, and let me tell you why. When I was 21 and running my first statewide campaign, Gar Joseph, John Baer, and Chris Brennan decided to profile me in the Daily News. I am sure they took some heat for it as I was a complete nobody, but they saw something in me that led them to believe I was worthy of the attention. I have never forgotten that because, while I know I would have made it to TV at some point, it certainly put me on a fast track. It is one of the reasons I joined the Daily News: I have never forgotten their faith in me. I hope I can make them proud with my efforts and adventures. My grandfather taught me that you dance with the people that brought ya and it has been a wonderful dance indeed.

Ok, no new pics from the first day for you guys - I had not figured out how to use my camera yet. My little brother Breandan, 11 (important I get that right - I said he was 10 once on TV and I have not heard the end of it!) worked with me for the day doing the ipod, computer, all technology things, he was a total whiz. Added all the receipts up and everything - I was very proud of him. It goes without saying my dad was a champ and pretty much packed everything up while I continued to write and run errands. I was in Philadelphia and D.C. for the week - for those who saw me on Extra, I was pretty busy so things got hectic before leaving.

Was at my gate 2 hrs. early - Philly airport rocks, more than I can say
for Gatwick, England (whoa nightmare). Got to ride First Class, not bad
huh? I can remember when I was younger (I use to have to fly back and
forth every week between Detroit and Philly, Northwest Airlines, during my parents' custody battle) I would peer up when they pulled back the curtain and I dreamed that I would one day get to sit up there. I still never have on domestic - simply not worth it - but since I was on the clock, who was I to argue, right? Flying to Europe first class is a big difference - there are even beds - it was very exciting!

I told you the blogging from yours truly would be light, and I dont like to disappoint. The hotel that had an "International Business Center" was more like an International Janitors closet, complete with a wire hanging from the ceiling where you plug it in. Suffice to say that the writing conditions have not been ideal from a technological standpoint.

Also, I must tell you that at first I thought I would want to share and write about all of the amazing places I am going to so you could feel like you were going along with me, and I do, but I need more time to give it justice. So many of the things I have seen and heard are ineffable, a fancy word for things that can not be explained by words. I promise to do my best though.

As you can tell, I found an internet cafe. I am in the middle of a beautiful place, San Giovanni Rotundo. Last night I walked in the feast of Padre Pio, a beloved saint. I was one of about 60,000. People from all over the world, Africa, Europe, America, even South Philly. Most were Christians, but there were nonbelievers and many from other faiths as well - people who wanted to share in a fun and festive night, capped off with fireworks.

In fact, the internet cafe I am in right now is owned by a Bangladeshi man who is a devout Muslim who reads the Koran daily. When I asked him why he was at the Festival last night he told me, "because I love Padre Pio and I believe in him" I then followed up with what I thought was an obvious question, "don't you see a conflict between being a practicing Muslim and believing in Padre Pio?" He looked at me with a bewildered look and said Perque? "Why? But everyone who sees Padre Pio believes in Padre Pio and everyone who comes here knows that he performs miracles, during his life yes, but also now in death."

Today I go to a church in Lanciano, Italy to see the first Eucharistic Miracle on record. Over 1200 years ago a monk who was struggling with his faith and having a hard time understanding the Catholic belief that the bread and wine served during communion transforms into the blood and body of Christ got a little help. OK, a lot of help. The bread and wine turned to actual flesh and blood before his eyes.

It has been here ever since with no trace of preservatives, yet the blood has the quality of that of one shed today. There have been hundreds of tests performed on it and no scientist can figure out what is going on. I am going to check it out for myself.

After I see it with my own eyes I am going to meet with a scientist and a monk to get their takes and then it is off to Rome and Vatican City. Apropos of the Vatican, here (after the jump) is my latest op-ed column.

Ciao

Well, my whirlwind journey through Italy ended today on a high note - literally. Yesterday I spent the morning in the marvel of Vatican City and spoke with a charming, thoughtful, and intelligent miracle seeker. Being a miracle seeker is actually his job. He is a Jesuit Priest and one of the members for the Congregation for the Causes of the Saints. They review purported miracles to decide whether the Church will authenticate them and Canonize the person responsible for said miracles as a Saint.

The process is vigorous and involves medical and scientific examinations, anecdotal evidence, witnesses, and most importantly evaluating the effects the miracles have had and the way the person lived their life. They also consider the person's ability to provide positive intercessory power even in death. The way I see it is that a person who is deemed a Saint is someone who above all lived an exemplary life and since nothing is ever a sure thing one the Church can say is "approved" with moral certitude. A human being, because only God can perform miracles according to the church, but a human being that can be looked upon as a model for behavior and a friend you can go to for advice and help.

The Father, Profesor, and Doctor (when I interviewed him I had a funny moment where I met him and could not figure out which title to use) told me that ordinary people have the capacity for the miraculous; if in their goodness, they allow God to work through them in extraordinary ways. That as much as the process uses countless more objective parameters he noted is the beginning stage. Much like a dog can sniff out a good person so can one know when there is one person who is more special than the others, one person who is in the inner circle if you will of God because they have been a good friend to Him. Between smiles and wiping of his brow (which was sweating under the hot Roman sun) he quoted Mother Theresa, one of the great saints of our time, as saying "I hold the pencil, but it is God who writes."

Yesterday, I tried to think like an alien. If there is extraterrestrial life intelligent enough to travel the galaxies to our little marble, where should they land? What is the emblematic city of humanity, the best one for them to judge our civilization by?

As a Philly girl it is hard for me to admit that the best candidate might well be here in Paris, a city of such dignity, beauty, culture, history and je ne sais quoi. Of course, we don't have proof that extraterrestrials are really out there - but some of us, with firmest conviction, still believe they are.

Along the banks of the Seine, in full view of majestic Notre Dame - its centuries of accumulated dirt and dust recently powerwashed away - I had the most stirring conversation with a man who boasts a very strange title. His name was Patrick Berger, a genial enough Frenchman with small stylish spectacles and the customary slim cigarette slung from his mouth. Monsieur Berger has made a career out of Doubt - he is a professional Skeptic. For many, this word conjures a curmudgeonly naysayer who will tell you the grass is blue and the sky green just for the sake of contradicting your simpleton observations.

But Patrick Berger was not some smug cad who blew smoke in my face, or thought someone had blown smoke up my you-know-what, when I discussed the validity of miracles with him. He was instead a young, well-spoken and affable man who was simply not content with the veneer of things that so many of us are content with. He had to look deeper.

I did a little digging myself before I met him to find out what a skeptic really was. I knew the connotations, but if you go back to the ancient Greeks, you find that Skepticism started with a philosopher named Pyrrho. Not only was he the pupil of Socrates, but he also escorted Alexander the Great on his voyage into the mysterious East. Pyrrho was not some blow-hard, but a sage who advanced the idea that NO truth was final, and one could advance only critical opinions after careful inquiry into gathered facts. No knowledge was certain, and at that, the skeptics were content to say that even Skepticism might not be the truest mode of philosophy.

So back to Monsieur Berger. I spoke to him about reported cases of the Virgin Mary appearing in France to several different people, two of them being granted sainthood as a result: Bernadette Soubirous and Catherine Laboure. In both cases and several others, Patrick offered extraordinary arguments that debunked what many feel are vouchsafed miracles. He had me pretty convinced, I must say.

The other day was the first one I have had in three weeks, so I figured I had better make the most of it.

A one-and-a-half-hour hour drive from Lourdes, where I have been with 55,000 pilgrims a day visiting the sites where the Vrigin Mary supposedly appeared to a young peasant girl, (Bernadette, now Saint Bernadette) takes us through beautiful rolling farmlands in the foothills of the majestic granite outcrops of the Pyrenees.

Well, my whirlwind journey through Italy ended today on a high note - literally. Yesterday I spent the morning in the marvel of Vatican City and spoke with a charming, thoughtful, and intelligent miracle seeker. Being a miracle seeker is actually his job. He is a Jesuit Priest and one of the members for the Congregation for the Causes of the Saints. They review purported miracles to decide whether the Church will authenticate them and Canonize the person responsible for said miracles as a Saint.

The process is vigorous and involves medical and scientific examinations, anecdotal evidence, witnesses, and most importantly evaluating the effects the miracles have had and the way the person lived their life. They also consider the person's ability to provide positive intercessory power even in death. The way I see it is that a person who is deemed a Saint is someone who above all lived an exemplary life and since nothing is ever a sure thing one the Church can say is "approved" with moral certitude. A human being, because only God can perform miracles according to the church, but a human being that can be looked upon as a model for behavior and a friend you can go to for advice and help.

The Father, Profesor, and Doctor (when I interviewed him I had a funny moment where I met him and could not figure out which title to use) told me that ordinary people have the capacity for the miraculous; if in their goodness, they allow God to work through them in extraordinary ways. That as much as the process uses countless more objective parameters he noted is the beginning stage. Much like a dog can sniff out a good person so can one know when there is one person who is more special than the others, one person who is in the inner circle if you will of God because they have been a good friend to Him. Between smiles and wiping of his brow (which was sweating under the hot Roman sun) he quoted Mother Theresa, one of the great saints of our time, as saying "I hold the pencil, but it is God who writes."

Yesterday, I tried to think like an alien. If there is extraterrestrial life intelligent enough to travel the galaxies to our little marble, where should they land? What is the emblematic city of humanity, the best one for them to judge our civilization by?

As a Philly girl it is hard for me to admit that the best candidate might well be here in Paris, a city of such dignity, beauty, culture, history and je ne sais quoi. Of course, we don't have proof that extraterrestrials are really out there - but some of us, with firmest conviction, still believe they are.

Along the banks of the Seine, in full view of majestic Notre Dame - its centuries of accumulated dirt and dust recently powerwashed away - I had the most stirring conversation with a man who boasts a very strange title. His name was Patrick Berger, a genial enough Frenchman with small stylish spectacles and the customary slim cigarette slung from his mouth. Monsieur Berger has made a career out of Doubt - he is a professional Skeptic. For many, this word conjures a curmudgeonly naysayer who will tell you the grass is blue and the sky green just for the sake of contradicting your simpleton observations.

But Patrick Berger was not some smug cad who blew smoke in my face, or thought someone had blown smoke up my you-know-what, when I discussed the validity of miracles with him. He was instead a young, well-spoken and affable man who was simply not content with the veneer of things that so many of us are content with. He had to look deeper.

I did a little digging myself before I met him to find out what a skeptic really was. I knew the connotations, but if you go back to the ancient Greeks, you find that Skepticism started with a philosopher named Pyrrho. Not only was he the pupil of Socrates, but he also escorted Alexander the Great on his voyage into the mysterious East. Pyrrho was not some blow-hard, but a sage who advanced the idea that NO truth was final, and one could advance only critical opinions after careful inquiry into gathered facts. No knowledge was certain, and at that, the skeptics were content to say that even Skepticism might not be the truest mode of philosophy.

So back to Monsieur Berger. I spoke to him about reported cases of the Virgin Mary appearing in France to several different people, two of them being granted sainthood as a result: Bernadette Soubirous and Catherine Laboure. In both cases and several others, Patrick offered extraordinary arguments that debunked what many feel are vouchsafed miracles. He had me pretty convinced, I must say.

The other day was the first one I have had in three weeks, so I figured I had better make the most of it.

A one-and-a-half-hour hour drive from Lourdes, where I have been with 55,000 pilgrims a day visiting the sites where the Vrigin Mary supposedly appeared to a young peasant girl, (Bernadette, now Saint Bernadette) takes us through beautiful rolling farmlands in the foothills of the majestic granite outcrops of the Pyrenees.