Arrivederci, Roma!

Cappuccino e cornetto

I woke up to the sound of doors slamming and shutters banging. Overnight the weather had changed. The weather forecast had predicted deteriorating conditions. While it was still partly sunny, the wind was gusting rather fiercely at times. I was fairly well packed, so I had the morning at my disposal. I had not been to the Vatican, so that seemed like the logical destination. I hopped on the bus and followed the Tiber towards St. Peter’s. I decided not to go the usual route, up the Via della Conciliazione, but rather through the Borgo, the area just outside of the Vatican. I got off the bus and started making my way, but felt the need for another cup of coffee. I stepped into a bar to have one last “cappuccino e cornetto”, the typical Roman breakfast. Cappuccino and a croissant-like pastry known as a “cornetto”. This is generally consumed standing right at the counter. Thus fortified, I headed for St. Peter’s Square.

Sometimes, you just have to.

When I arrived, I saw that the entire piazza was now blocked off and to enter you needed to pass through a screening area, just to get inside the piazza. When I looked at the line waiting to get inside the basilica, I decided against it. I would have to satisfy myself with admiring the basilica from the outside. Gone were the days when you could just go into St. Peter’s to say a prayer if you were passing by. I also noticed that a new industry had sprung up. Milling all around the perimeter of St. Peter’s were young South Asian men with lanyards around their necks with what I am sure are “official” ID’s. These “guides” were accosting unsuspecting tourists and offering to help them skip the line and get them inside the basilica. I’m not completely sure how this scam plays out. There’s always a new way to make a euro. It seemed appropriate, so I took a selfie.

Who's dog is that?

I walked back through the Borgo admiring all the lovely things in the religious goods shops. I left the Vatican area and headed back towards Sant’Anselmo, where I was expected for lunch. When I reached Testaccio, it was still early, so went to the Mercato for one last visit. Saturday was always the best day to visit the market, because it was the day that it was the liveliest. I was not disappointed. Late morning on Saturday is the busiest time as people try to finish shopping before the market closes. I just love the atmosphere, the noise, the commotion and sense of life being lived. At one point, I saw a little white and black dog on a leash but without a human attached to the other end. Where was the owner? Did he or she not realize the dog was missing? Or, was the owner within the dog’s view? Who knew? It is these little dramas that I find so endearing. I left the market and started back to Sant’ Anselmo. As I walked along the familiar streets, taking in the sights and sounds, I was sorry to be leaving, even though I was going home after 2 ½ months on the road.

Italian airport food

Around 4:30 that afternoon, I zipped up my bags and walked to the front door. I said goodbye to the porter, Fabio, and Fr. Samuel. Since there was a wedding going on, I walked outside the gate to meet the taxi that would take me to the airport. We made good time getting there, so I had plenty of time for dinner. I was flying to Dublin and would not be getting to the hotel until about 11:00 p.m. I was not confident that I would find food on the other end, so I decided to make the most of the time remaining in Italy. I was in a Terminal that was entirely new to me. The food court was upstairs and, after surveying the offerings, I went with pizza napoletana. I sat down, ordered and, before long, I was enjoying one delicious pizza.

I boarded the plane and took my seat. There was a very elegantly dressed woman to my left and a young Italian woman to my right. Once we were up in the air the woman to my left asked whether I had been in Italy on business or pleasure. So, I began to tell her about my travels. Soon we were deep in conversation. She was Irish, but had been in Italy taking Italian lessons. When I mentioned that I been at Glenstal, she said “Oh I am great friends with many of the monks there.” And, indeed, she was. We continued talking for most of the flight. She was a very interesting person; and, it certainly made the flight seem shorter.

Before long, we were landing in Dublin. I collected my bags and walked out to the hotel shuttle. It was freezing! I was only wearing a light sweater. Fortunately, the shuttle arrived quickly, just as it began to rain. Welcome to Ireland. I was looking forward to a quiet nightcap in the hotel bar before going to sleep. This was the night when Europe was going off daylight saving time, so I would get another hour of sleep. When we reached the hotel, I could tell there was going to be no quiet anything. There had to be at least two weddings going on and the all the public areas were full of rowdy revelers. I just prayed that it would be quiet upstairs. All things considered, it was.

I had a decent night’s sleep, enjoyed breakfast in the hotel, showered and then headed back to the airport for my flight home to Newark. I managed all the different levels of security and made my way to the gate. I looked out the window at the waiting aircraft. Then it really struck me. In nine hours, I would be back in New Jersey. This great and marvelous journey was over.