I rinsed dish soap off a plate and placed it in the rack. Turning to where my daughter Tammie was sitting at the table, I asked, “Can you find an English Mass celebrated, here in Rome? An Italian one would be all right, but I would prefer understanding the words of each prayer.”

Looking up from her phone screen, Tammie announced, “I just found one. It’s called Chiesa di San’t Isidoro. Since it’s close to the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps, would you like to spend the afternoon visiting those places?”

On Sunday morning, we got up early to allow travel time. We didn’t have to wait very long in the shade of a lovely small tree for the bus to come. The large, lumbering vehicle was full. Shortly after we boarded, most of the passengers behind us began to sing a song in French. I turned and noted that our impromptu choir consisted of a jolly-faced, zucchetto-wearing Bishop and several of his collar-wearing seminarians. They got off the bus before Tammie and I did.

Pointing to a shaded street that curved around several large buildings, Tammie explained, “Even though the street curves, we’re to walk straight up that hill to the end of the block. Then we should be able to see the church.”

We walked past several sidewalk cafes that hadn’t opened yet due to the early hour. The huge shade trees along the way had unusual, gray, smooth trunks, and large leaves. Looming up in front of us was a very steep, long flight of stairs. Reaching the top, we saw a lawn enclosed within a fence and a dirt driveway. Beyond it, further up the hill, was the church we were looking for. Several cats were roaming around the yard and sitting in boxes under shaggy evergreen bushes.

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