Drunk on Rome

Last Wednesday a bunch of us (John, Juan, Ana, James, Liz, Will, and I) had to go into Termini to buy our tickets for our long weekend trips. After purchasing our tickets, John and Juan went back to campus to finish up some homework, but the rest of us had planned on going to Mass at a French church at the top of the Spanish Steps and then go to dinner together. So, we casually wandered the streets of Rome until we came to the Spanish Steps. To be completely honest, until that day, I was not that impressed with the Steps—perhaps due to some unsavoury encounters with street vendors on previous visits. We had about a half hour until Mass, so we sat together on the Steps talking, writing postcards, and taking photos. After a few minutes, I decided just to pop my head into the Church. I thought I had walked into Heaven. The French monks and nuns at the Church were singing Vespers in French, and it was possibly the most beautiful music I've ever heard in my life. I dashed back down the Steps, and cried, “Guys! You HAVE to come now!” They gathered up their things and so we were able to catch the last few minutes of the Vespers before Mass. Mass was so lovely, of course, said all in French. I was delighted that I was able to understand the readings and most of the homily with my broken French (thanks, Papa). Father talked about Mary's gift of her only Son to the Church, her Grace, Love for us and her overwhelming selflessness to her spiritual children. It was SO beautiful. Will and Liz (lucky ducks!) were asked to bring up the gifts for Mass—I was so delighted for them. I just cannot get over the amount of grace that just seems to be pouring out of Rome all the time. When I left Mass, I was practically flying I was so happy. We were drunk on grace.

When we stepped out of the Church, Trinita dei Monti, it was just getting towards dusk, and we could see the shadowy domes of churches glowing pinkish along the horizon with St. Peter's standing calmly, almost beckoning to us in the back—it was glorious. We headed towards St. Peter's (on the way, James bought a laser-light from a street vendor, much to my and Ana's incredulity), and found a little place to eat. I cannot remember the name, but it was relatively near the Vatican, fairly near the Bridge of Angels. It was so nice with just the five of us (though our waiter was pretty nasty, even though I spoke to him in Italian), all sitting outdoors around a little table with our pizza. We had some great conversations, mostly about the times when we first met each other. Such a great group of people.

After dinner, Will and I had to mail postcards and then we wanted gelato, so we went to St. Peter's and dropped the postcards off, but then sat for quite a while in front of St. Peter's. It was surprisingly quiet there at around ten at night. I feel like I'm being redundant in saying how beautiful it is, but truly, it's such an understatement. It's so beautiful and so comfortable to be there: Rome IS like being home. We finally tore ourselves away to get gelato at Old Bridge—the hands-down best gelateria in Rome and the cheapest! It seems like it's the same guys who work there all the time. One fellow I've seen there the past few times recognized me and said, “you're back!” So we chatted in Italian for a little, and then he asked me if I wanted whipped cream on my gelato. I was so full from dinner, so I said no, and then he laughed and said, “Yes, will make you fat!” Cheeky blighter.

A metro ride, a bus ride, and a short walk later, and we were back on campus, happy, full, and quite sticky with gelato (Italian napkins are a rip-off: they don't work). Of course, it was just a typical day in Rome...absolutely splendid.