Archive | November 2023

Castel Sant’ Angelo

Nov29

Leaning against a bridge rail, I squinted up the Tiber River towards Saint Peter’s Basilica. It was drenched in early August morning sunshine practically glowing in contrast to the blue sky and Rome’s iconic, green, balloon pine trees. Along the river, halfway between the bridge where I stood, and the Vatican, was a large cylindrical stone building. Pointing, I questioned, “What is that big, round, stone building to our right?”

The pilgrimage guide standing next to me offhandedly commented, “Oh, that’s Castel Sant’ Angelo. There’s a passageway between it and the Vatican. When barbarians sacked Rome, it was used as an escape route for Popes. We won’t be visiting it on this pilgrimage.” Then, looking around he called out to my fellow pilgrims, “Let’s cross the bridge. The Pantheon isn’t much further.”

A Pope needing to escape from frenzied, pillaging Vandals intrigued me. I loved the idea of the Vatican having a secret passageway to the safety of a castle fortress! Unfortunately, my curiosity wasn’t satisfied during that trip.

Ten years later, my daughter Tammie asked me if I would travel to Rome with her. When I said yes, she ordered, “Tell me what you want to see there, and I’ll make it happen.”

My answer was, “I want to see everything, and this time that includes what’s inside Castel Sant’ Angelo.”

Tammie made good on her promise. On our third day in Italy, we visited the fortress along the Tiber River. In English it is known as the Castle of the Holy Angel. The history of this site dates to 135 A D, when the Roman Emperor Hadrian built a mausoleum there for himself.

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Unexpected Blessing

Nov22

“Tomorrow, we’re going to attend the Wednesday Papal audience in Saint Peter’s Square,” Tammie announced. “This evening we need to pick up tickets to attend. They’re free, but we need to have them.”

Tammie and I had just returned to our Airbnb apartment and felt totally exhausted. The effects of traveling a long distance and walking more than we were accustomed to doing during the last four days had taken their toll on us. As we stepped into the air-conditioned kitchen I asked, “Can we do that later? I want to lay down on the bed to rest.”

Nodding, my daughter admitted, “I want to rest, too. The idea of walking four blocks to the Vatican right now doesn’t appeal to me, either.”

The sky was darkening for night when Tammie commented, “We rested too long. Now it’s too late to get the tickets. We’ll just have to get up early tomorrow morning and get them then.”

The next morning, the dark shadows of night were reluctantly leaving the streets as we reached the entrance of Saint Peter’s Square. Eyeing a tremendously long line of people already lining the nearby blocks, I whispered to Tammie, “It’s only 7:45 in the morning! I can’t believe there are so many people here already! The Papal audience doesn’t begin until 9:00 am!”

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Refreshing Spirits

Nov15

Italian ambulance sirens make a peculiar wailing sound. One raced past our Airbnb apartment as I awoke that Tuesday morning. To my surprise, my daughter Tammie was already awake, uploading and labeling pictures she’d taken the day before. Slipping out of bed, I brushed my teeth and washed my face before going to the kitchen to fry eggs for our breakfast.

            Tammie came into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Pouring two cups of black tea, I commented, “For breakfast we only can have one fried egg apiece, a small wedge of spicy sausage and fresh grapes,” My daughter nodded her approval. Our shopping trip the day before hadn’t turned out the way we had planned. The half dozen eggs we purchased at a market fell on the sidewalk. Four of the eggs broke. Spicy sausage turned out to be so full of red pepper that eating anything more than a bite or two burned our mouths.

Placing breakfast on the table, I sat down and questioned, “What does my tour guide have on schedule for today?”

My daughter thanked me for making breakfast and announced, “I’ve arranged for us to join a tour of the Pantheon. We’ll get on a city bus in about half an hour and it’ll take us within a few blocks of where we want to go.” 

A cloudless sky and a bright sun greeted us as we left the apartment. We didn’t have to wait long for the bus, but I felt fortunate to stand under the shade of a small tree. All the seats on the bus were taken, but when we boarded, two people stood up and offered their seats to us. Surprised, grateful, and slightly embarrassed, I sat down.

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Left in the Dark

Nov8

I turned out the bedside light and lay in the dark listening to the murmur of customers talking, and the clink of silverware against china as they dined at La Soffitta Renovatio, the restaurant located directly located below our Airbnb bedroom windows in Rome. My daughter Tammie and I had just returned from having a meal there. We shared a stuffed and fried zucchini blossom appetizer. Then I ordered a risotto with baby squid, which I loved. Tammie enjoyed a dish made with long bucatini noodles in a red sauce with pepper flakes and guanciale.

It felt so good to stretch out to rest on the queen-sized memory foam mattress. Traveling from Minnesota to Italy had been exhausting. The sound of sirens from ambulances and police cars regularly punctuated the quiet sounds of the sidewalk diners as I drifted off to sleep.

            The sun was shining when I woke. Instead of staying in bed, I jumped up to take a closer look at the apartment. Flat screened televisions hung on the bedroom and living room walls, but all the stations were Italian. In the kitchen, I found a small refrigerator, dishwasher, microwave, and a two-burner induction stove. Above the sink, I found plates, bowls, and silverware in a drawer. The expresso maker I didn’t care about, but wished I had a tea bag when I saw the electric kettle.

            My daughter suggested, “Why don’t we walk to the open-air market that’s nearby and get a few groceries so we can make breakfast and maybe a meal or two?”

            Sticking to the shady side of the streets as much as we could, we enjoyed window shopping, people watching and admiring blossoms on trees and shrubs along the way. As we walked, leg muscles that I hadn’t used much since I retired began to object. At the market, we bought eggs, salami, grapes, and a small bottle of wine. The hot Italian sun burned our skin as we walked back to the apartment.

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Stepping into the Sunlight

Nov1

With a jaw tightly clenched, I determinedly maneuvered my wheeled luggage away from the subway car where moments before, a pickpocket had tried to help themselves to the contents of my purse. I was tired and my feet hurt so badly, all I wanted to do was sit down. The journey my daughter Tammie and I embarked on yesterday afternoon seemed to have no end.

I left the subway behind with relief and struggled up the stairway with my luggage to the city sidewalk. I had no idea what time of day it was. In Wisconsin it would be early Sunday morning. Here, in Rome, it was late Sunday afternoon. I spent two days enclosed in metal airplanes, train compartments, and crowded terminals. The minute I stepped out into the sunlight, I took a deep breath of fresh air and smiled.

Tammie found a bench and sat down, saying, “Let’s sit and rest for a while.” All too soon, my daughter stood up and ordered, “Follow me.”

Doing my best to guide my wheeled luggage over bumps, ridges on the sidewalks and the cobble stone street corners, I questioned, “How do you know where to go? You’ve never been here before.”

Wheeling her luggage along with little difficulty, Tammie confessed, “I’ve virtually walked the streets of this neighborhood several times recently, using Google Satellite to become familiar with it.”

Ridges on the sidewalk made my wheeled luggage almost tip. I complained, “The wheels on my suitcase are acting like the balky wheels on a shopping cart. Why do all the street corner sidewalks have these ridges?”

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