Memory: Rome

Well, about all I have from Rome are the memories, since almost none of my photos came out. (I was still figuring out how to use the video camera, and the single-use camera pictures got wiped off the film by repeated exposure to security scans. No matter what they tell you, it does damage film, and I have the evidence.)

I hadn't been in Rome since Benedict XVI was elected, and I was really looking forward to seeing him at an audience or Angelus. The way the trip worked out, Jesus is going to have to arrange another visit to Rome, because none of my goals in that regard was met! (Jesus, just so you know, my passport is good through next year...) We went to St. Peter's right away, hoping to get tickets for the next day's audience, but since my last visit new security measures have been put in place. I used to be able to run from my office down the street into St. Peter's for a quick visit to the Blessed Sacrament chapel, or even to make my Hour of Adoration. No more. You'd spend all the time allotted for prayer in the security line, waiting to get your bags and self scanned at the colonnade before making it into Church. And you can't just duck into the Bronze Door to go upstairs and request audience tickets, either. First you have to go through the colonnade security and then get in line. Since Barbara and I both wanted to make an Hour of Adoration, and the line for the Bronze Door was really long, we went to pray. I figured the line would be better in the later afternoon anyway. (Wrong!) (We could have requested tickets earlier, but the member of our party who was responsible for that kind of dropped the ball.) Well, you don't need tickets to hang around St. Peter's Square on Wednesdays, so we figured we would do that. Except none of us was feeling quite okay on Wednesday. The cold Barbara had diagnosed on the plane (and it was a nasty one) was gradually picking us off. By the time I got to St. Peter's (Barbara had a lunch appointment and Karen was feeling ill), the stacking chairs from the audience were turned and tumbled every which way, there was no sign of the Pope, and the security line wrapped 3/4 of the way around the Piazza.  I went around taking pictures, the only Roman pictures that came out, showing the way from St. Peter's to the Sistine Chapel/Vatican Museum entrance. The line snaked for three blocks around the Vatican walls. Then I hurried toward the Palazzo Farnese to meet Barbara and attend the talk she was giving at Holy Cross. I barely had time to rush to a taxi stand and get a ride to the Daughters of St. Paul generalate to meet Sr. Bernadette and Sr. Donna Jean (plus all my sister-friends from the years I had lived there) for supper. It was delightful seeing the sisters' eyes grow in amazement as they recognized me. Providentially, Sr. Donna would be leaving for the US the next morning from a convent very near to where we were staying (near Piazza della Republica and Termini station), so we took a taxi together instead of going by ourselves in a bus. Actually, the bus would have been faster. The taxi driver took us on a last scenic tour of Rome, all the way a-r-o-u-n-d to a Piazza that was only ten minutes from St. Peter's. I ran out of money, so he didn't get a tip. But I did get to say an extra "Buon Viaggio" to Sr. Donna!