Roma, Italy

Flying over Italy before landing in Rome was spectacular.  The terrain was different colors and reminded me of a beautiful quilt with the colors of browns and greens.  Not in a grid pattern of our farmland at home, but in triangles, and shapes of many geometric names.  The most beautiful were the vinyards, and olive groves.  They were stunning in their line formation.  Even at 10,000 feet you could see the details of the vineyard verses the olive groves.

After our stressful time in the Paris airport it was good to rest and know that we were headed on our way again.

I had to keep reminding myself, we are actually in Italy!  Buongiorno!  Ciao (Chow!)

I can only speak English, I stupidly thought learning another language as a teenager in high school would be useless.  Now, I undoubtedly regret that decision.  My daughters would have laughed at me trying to say “Grazie”.  I just don’t have the Italian flare for the words.  Their language is colorful in the way they speak it.  “Mamma Mia” was drawn out and almost musical.

We arrive at our bed and breakfast which is just across the street from the Vatican.  When we were planning  this part of the trip, we were a little disappointed that our sleeping quarters were so far away from the “big, familiar” things such as the “Colloseum”, or the “Palatine”.  How silly we were.  It was a spectacular view of St Peter’s, and is one of the most popular areas.  We watched out our window each morning as droves of people step out of buses and taxis making their way around the sidewalk.  There is a wall that surrounds the Vatican that is at least 40 to 50 feet high.   The sidewalk follows the wall all the way around.  I have never stood beside the wall of a country before.

I thought I would stick out like a sore thumb with this blonde hair, but not so.  Every ethnic group is represented.  Spanish influence is strong, but  Asian citizens are everywhere.  Chinese, Japanese, then there are Russians, Czechs, Swedish, French, Scandinavians, and of course Americans walking the sidewalks.  According to the locals, July, August and the week before Christmas are the only slow times for tourists.

For those of you who don’t know, Vatican City is a country in itself.  It is huge and elaborate, and to the Catholics, it houses their “Papal”, as well as St. Peter’s Basilica, The Vatican Museums, and the Sistine Chapel. 

We saw it all.  Rooms and rooms of Rome’s finest.  Famous sculptures that have been collected by different Popes throughout  the ages. No money was spared.  There were beautiful paintings, tapestries, drawings from famous artists that we only read about in history books; Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo  Donatello, Raphael, (not the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles by the way) and names I had never heard before. Many times we saw classes of students with their Art Teacher giving the details.  We saw sketch books, and carbon pencils flying.  They were studying the best, and brightest artists of the world.

 We walked slowly through each room in the Basilica, the museums, and Vatican square.  It was spectacular.  I kept humming the song, “We will never pass this way again”, and occasionally I would reach up and pinch myself to just make sure I wasn’t dreaming. 

The final day we were there, our host at the B&B offered us tickets to see the Pope “personally”.  We didn’t have any idea what this meant when we agreed to take the tickets.  We even wondered just how close would we be to him?  LOL!!!  How silly of us to think this.  We along with 5-6,000 people were all herded into Vatican Square to sit in chairs to see the Pope ride around in his PopeMobile.  You know the little white car that he stands in waving?  Bullet proof glass surrounds him as he waves and smiles at his fellow Catholics.  He emerged from the car to sit in a chair on stage facing us with St. Peter’s in the background.  It was an experience not many have.  There were people there from all over the world. Cardinals, Priests, and the devoted stood at the microphone and mentioned each place a group was from.  Many of them were from the USA.

I sat next to a woman who had been a devoted Catholic all her life.  This was not her first visit.  She didn’t speak a word of English, but her body language spoke volumes.  Her hands were aged, obviously from hard work.  Between her fingers were Rosary Beads being rubbed each time she spoke a prayer in Italian. She knew every time to stand, what direction he would be coming from, and shook her head at the silliness of others as they screamed and yelled at him.  She was there to pay her respects to the man who is the Pope; the Leader of the Catholic Church.

The other days we spent many hours walking the streets of Rome looking at the ancient ruins.  My favorite was the Coliseum.  The massive structure looms above all buildings and is surrounded by other ancient ruins.  It is an Architect’s dream. When you walk around the corner and see it for the first time you can’t help but gasp. 

 We saw the streets with black mosaic stones, some large, some small.  We also walked where Paul most likely was walked to his death from his prison, not far from the Coliseum.  Where Peter walked to his death as well.

We saw the ruins of Nero’s home.  There were massive hallways that would allow a team of horses to walk down pulling him and his entourage. 

World War II was not kind to this city.  Large ancient Arches that told the details of a historical event such as a battle was missing pieces of stone where marksman stood and shot for fun.

The Romans did nothing small.  Piazza’s surround every Basilica, and Cathedral. Statues and fountains dot the cityscape everywhere.  We saw history come alive.

The modern day Rome is not much different from our big cities.  Public Transportation is everywhere.  Taxis, buses, and the Metro (their subway).

I thought we would hear Italian music playing in the streets.  Only on occasionan we would enter a Piazza and hear an acoustic guitar, or an accordion playing sweet music.  This was the musician’s way of making money for the day. 

The food was not what I expected.  Truly, I think our Italian food at home is better.  The owner of the restaurante would make and bake pizza, calzones, pastas, and breads early in the day, then keep it in a glassed in case for all to see and chose from.  He then would cut a slice, or dip up the pasta and warm it for you.  It was pretty good, but hand me a good ol’ Pizza King Pizza, or Art’s Pizza any day.  Gelato is in almost every restaurante.  Lines of people buy the sweet cream or sherbet at all times of the day.  It is our Ice cream at home.

We did have a sandwich shop just outside our B&B that made delicious sandwiches on crusty bread, with Panchetta, brie cheese, and the last day, spinach was added.  It had honey, and a brown mustard that mixed well.  We ate there several times.  I will try my hand at making this sandwich at home.  Hopefully my small group will enjoy my experimenting.

We leave Rome today. Our first stop on our sabbatical. We have been to 4 countries in the past 1 and ½ weeks.  America, France, Vatican City, and Italy.  Our next stop is Jordan.  We will miss Italy, and of course, we are missing our home.    

Arrivederci,

Delaine