Adventures in Albano

Back in the 50's, Bl. James Alberione and Mother Thecla Merlo founded a clinic that would give particular spiritual attention to ailing priests and sisters, giving them not only medical treatment, but spiritual support in consecrating their sufferings in union with Jesus. That clinic turned into a regional hospital in the area of Albano/Castel Gandolfo, around the rim of the crater lake of a (hopefully extinct) volcano. (Alberione later founded a retreat house overlooking the lake.) The hospital is the only medical facility the Daughters of St. Paul have, and about 100 sisters are either stationed at the hospital, patients there or in the associated nursing home (Casa Tecla Merlo, just for our sisters) or the nearby community and spirituality center.
Since Sr. Margaret and I have several elderly friends who are now "in Albano" as we say, and there are also several sisters there who were once stationed in the United States with us, we just had to go for a visit. The trouble was getting there. There was no room in the car that was going up for the morning, so we had to make it by train. As far as we could tell, the only trains were at 8:00 and 10:00, and so we planned to take the 10:00, arriving in Albano at about 10:50. A sister was counting on a visit at 11:30, and the hospital community would provide pranzo at 12:30 (free lunch: a good thing). All we had to do was get to the train station, buy and then stamp our tickets and board the train.
I remembered that there was something a bit odd about the Albano train, and one of the sisters confirmed that. The platform, #15, was not in the station, but was 400 meters beyond the usual station area, in between platforms 14 and 16. You had to just get to one of those platforms, and instead of boarding a train, keep walking until you were outside of the roofed-in area, and there would be the Albano platform. Okay.
We left the house at 8:40, allowing well over an hour to get to the train station. We weren't counting on our first bus being delayed, and then arriving already full. (Not a good sign.) Then the traffic on our first street was quite slow. Between traffic and stop lights (they have them now, and in the outer reaches of the city they are actually observed), it took 45 minutes for us to get to the center of Rome. And we still needed to take another long bus ride to the station! The express bus came in only a few minutes, but again traffic delays intervened. Sister Margaret and I were getting more and more anxious. We still had to buy our tickets! At 9:45, still two stops from the station, we looked at each other. "If we make it on that train, it will be a bona fide miracle." Finally at the station (both of us were posted at the bus exits to be the first off), I told Sr. Margaret to run ahead and get one foot in the door of the train while I purchased the tickets. And we were off, running hard. I ran to the tobacco shop for the regional 30-km tickets, but they were OUT of them!!! Ran around, found another tobacco shop, placed my order, grabbed the ticets, and with my coin purse still unzipped, and the tickets right outside of that in my tight left fist, I ran up platform 14, my backpack hanging in front of me (that's gypsy protection in crowded places). I'm a great walker, but I never run, and this was awful. The 400 meter dash at 9:57. At about 200 meters, I felt my saliva start to burn, and my breathing became shallow. I took a short breath with every pace, but my steps were more and more labored with the panic of missing the train, Sr. Margaret or both. Pump, pump, pump. Then the prayers, "Jesus, please--help--me--make--it--" "Guardian--Angel--help." Pump, pump, pump. Finally, platform 15. And no train. And no Sr. Margaret. I sank on a trunk-like object and took a breath. A train was approaching. I looked up at a rail official. "Albano?" "No, the train for Albano is over there..." He pointed back 200 meters, on the other side of the tracks (uncrossable). Oh, NO! "Calma, calma, si puo' fare" ("Don't freak out, you can make it.") I just issued a desperate sigh and got up again to make the impossible trek, sure that at any instant I would hear the distinctive hiss of the train's brakes being released and watch the train pull away from the platform. I couln't run at all, so I did my best to walk in a kind of goose-step (all I was capable of at that point), half running, and then back to my funny step. Eventually, I spotted Sr. Margaret, standing outside the train's engine with the conductor. I tried calling to her, but no go. Then I yelled, "Suor MARGARET!!!" And they both heard and waved. The conductor pointed to the underground passage that would take me to the platform. I knew we were probably safe at that point, but I was still anxious about the train pulling out. At this point, it was 10:01. I did my best to hurry down and then up again to the platform, and the remaining 100 meters to the first car. The conductor and assistant were laughing in a good-natured way. Sr. Margaret and I collapsed into the first seats we found. (She had made the same 400-meter dash and 200-meters back.) We had 50 minutes to catch our breath on the way to Albano.
Albano was the end of the line for the regional train, and we got out at the edge of town. Sort of. Town is up. And the hospital is way up. It took about five people giving us directions for us to find the proper street and begin the real ascent to the hospital, but we made it. And the first sister we found was Sr. Auxiliadora, who had been stationed with me in Miami. She gave us directions: me to the nursing home, and Sr. Margaret to the other convent (down the hill). At the nursing home, the elderly sister I had gone to visit had already been wheeled up to the dining room, and it almost seemed as though I would not have permission to see her. But the nurse and superior both consented, so I was led to the dining room. Dear little Sr. Maria Grazia recognized me immediately. She was so thrilled with the visit, and it only lasted 3 minutes. She promised all sorts of prayers, worth the whole 400/200 meter dash. Then I got directions to the other convent and eventually (again, after asking several locals for directions) found it. I was able to visit for a few minutes with a sister who had been one of the first FSP editors, and at 89 she is still full of life and spiritual energy. Although she has days when she is not too clear, yesterday she was as bright as the sun, and recognized me and Sr. Margaret right away. She, too, was thrilled with the visit. We got a picture outside with her (my camera has a very useful 10-second delay so I could run into the picture) and then ... headed back up the hill for our free lunch.
Thanks be to God, a sister was there who had come from one of the communities in the city, and she offered us a ride back, so we didn't have to face the train or bus (2 hours). Instead, we rode home with a fellow sister who took the opportunity to bring us to the popular Marian shrine "Divino Amore" for a visit. And we got home in time for prayers and supper!