We arrived in Rome Saturday evening and we had two-and-a-half days to explore the City before heading back to America on Tuesday morning. Rome is wonderful. It reminds me of New York City; it is fast-paced with metro subways and it bustles with life and the arts. There are street musicians and piazzos (plazas) where people sit and drink and eat and enjoy life.
Yet, mixed in with the modern is the ancient. Really ancient. Thousands of years old ancient. In Rome, you might see a high rise next to monument built in 60 AD. In fact, you will probably see many.
Often when I travel outside of America, I catch myself acting very American. In America, we eat big and we act big and sometimes we piss people off. Whenever I do something “American,” like eat an enormous amount of food or do something accidentally discourteous while traveling, I’m reminded of the song from “Team America, World Police”: “America, Fuck Yeah.”
In Rome, I found this happening quite a bit. Whenever it did, the song would play in my mind (or I would sing it lightly to my American entourage) and I would snicker.
On Sunday morning, our first morning in Rome, Ma, E and I set out with the intention of seeing the Vatican Museum and St. Peters’ Basillica, both in Vatican City. It is bittersweet for Ma and me. Worse for her than me - being here without my dad and brother - and especially being here without my dad. She and my dad had always planned to come here together, but weren’t able to make it happen during his lifetime. My dad was a very strong Catholic; he even traveled down to Miami to see Pope John Paul II when the Pope came to the U.S. in the eighties. He would have loved this place, and it was hard for both of us to be here without him.
I woke up Sunday morning with a sense of adventure. I had the thought almost immediately upon waking: “Today is going to be a great adventure.” It was directly followed by the thought, “but I’m with my ma today, is she going to be up for an adventure?” I countered that thought with another: “Why not? Who am I to decide she isn’t?”
Ma probably wouldn’t disagree that she is a little less adventurous than me, but she would also say that she is certainly up for an adventure. We had heard from several people that we should arrive early to the Vatican in order to beat the crowds, but things don’t always work out as planned.
Our day started with us deciding to try to find the closer metro subway station, the one we had been warned was more difficult to find than the one by the Colosseum. We had easily found the one by the Colosseum the night before. But warning me that something may be difficult is like daring me to do it. So we set out, and we had some difficulty finding the closer metro station. I wouldn’t say we were “lost” because I had a pretty good idea of where we were the whole time. At the same time, I was not completely sure where the metro station was.
I battled with the voice in my head about taking this path – we should have gone toward the easier metro station by the Colosseum – then we could arrive early at the Vatican as recommended and beat the crowds. Now we would be late and probably miss everything. A different voice in my head reminded me that everything happens for a reason and is all part of the divine plan. Maybe we were meant to go this way for some other reason that just wasn’t obvious at the moment. Look, there is a nice park we wouldn’t have seen if we hadn’t gotten lost.
At that moment, Ma said, “We should have gone the other way.” I tried the tactic that had worked with brain voice: “If we had gone the other way, we wouldn’t have seen this nice park that we can take E too tomorrow when we have more time.”
“Yeah but what are the chances you will be able to find it again?” Ma said. We were both agitated. I did notice and found it amusing for the first time that Ma often says out loud the things my brain voice says to me in private. That might be why she gets to me like no one else can. I don’t think I’m alone in this phenomenon. The voice of our parents often becomes the voice in our heads that we psychologically battle with, and we often have strained relationships with our parents in real life as a result. Maybe she was right, maybe we wouldn’t find it again. At the same time, I couldn’t let go of the belief that this was all part of the greater plan and that today was going to be an adventure.
Sometimes the reason things happen the way they do isn’t obvious to us right away, or maybe not even for many years. I used to live my life with the belief that bad things happen and that it just means that life is shitty. But that isn’t my way of being anymore. I’ve looked the worst-case scenario in the eye. I’ve suffered greatly; and yet, I’m always able to look back and see how things were exactly how they needed to be. I’m always able to look back and see how, in the very least, those awful things that have happened have gone into the formula of making me who I am. This isn’t false optimism; it is a sense of divine peace that comes with living through and surrendering to extreme suffering and realizing that we are here on Earth to learn. If nothing else, we are here on Earth to learn.
We finally found the metro and got on. By now it was well past 11:00 AM and we were clearly late for our “planned” arrival time. I saw my reflection in the window of the metro. Have you ever seen your reflection and not recognized yourself? When I looked up, I didn’t see me, I saw my dad. I saw his features in my face. My reflection smiled back at me - but it wasn’t my smile; it was my dad’s. Upon seeing this, my face lit up with happiness, and I saw that my reflection was me again smiling happily at just seeing my dad. Instantly, I felt that my dad was here with us, and that getting on the metro at this moment was exactly what was supposed to happen. It was his way of reassuring me.
We took the metro to the Vatican exit and got off. We had a choice: head toward the museums or to St. Peter’s. Now it was noon and we were clearly late for either choice. So much for getting there early and beating the crowds. We walked with the flow and half-heartedly decided to go to St. Peter’s in the middle of Vatican Square, both Ma and I doubting it was the right choice. We got to the square and we saw the huge lines to get into St. Peter’s church. Ugh. Maybe we should have gone to the museums.
The square itself is beautiful and it was quite a sight just to be there. We noticed that people were piling in toward the middle of the square while leaving lots of room on the outside. Weird. I thought I heard someone say something about a camera and assumed a crew was filming something and that was why people were pushing toward the center: to get on camera. Maybe they were filming a movie about the Pope?
Then, all of a sudden, the crowd started cheering. We looked up and, I shit you not, there stood the mother-f-ing Pope, up high in a window waving down to the crowd. We had arrived at EXACTLY the right moment. We were getting to see the f-ing pope. THE POPE. The main guy for the Catholic church. And not just any Pope, but Papa Francesco, already beloved by the people for being a man of the people. Holy crap. My dad would be freaking out.
And I realized that my dad may have had a hand in orchestrating the whole thing. If we hadn’t taken the long way, we would have gotten here early and missed the Pope. I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face or the thoughts of my dad. He must have been in on it the whole time. Must have. Ma was crying too. She also realized the perfect-ness of arriving at that moment, and we both were overjoyed. Even E was excited at seeing the Pope and brought it up many times during the rest of our stay in Rome.
The Pope gave a 20 minute-or-so homily in Italian, and it was projected onto huge monitors in the square. That must have been what the cameras were for. I was able to make out a few words about living life rightly and helping others. At several points people clapped and cheered in response to things he said. At one point, I could make out something he said about blessing America. When he said, “America” the crowd clapped and cheered. I thought, “America, Fuck-Yeah!”
It reminded me a lot of my experience with meeting Amma. I could feel that Papa Francesco, like Amma, vibrates on a higher spiritual level, and that just being there in his presence was a gift. We were receiving darshan from a living saint. How amazing is that?
We left the square, still riding on high, and tried to make it to the museums. Turns out they were closing early. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow. We went for some sliced pizza instead and I got the best pizza I’ve had in Italy all trip: pesto with mushrooms and truffle oil. Food porn for sure:
We did end going to the museum the next day and we got to see the inside of St. Peter’s Basillica. We also got to see The Colosseum, The Pantheon, The Spanish Steps, and Trevi Fountain, among other ancient sites and ruins. They were all pretty cool, but nothing beat seeing Papa Francesco. I found that visiting the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican Museum reminded me of going to Ikea: you have to zig-zag through the entire place just to get there, and you are never sure when you will get to the glorious end. Of course, the end in this case is the Sistine Chapel, not the holy cash registers.
The Sistine Chapel was spectacular, and St. Peter’s is more grand than any church I’ve ever seen. It may be the most grand church on Earth. We enjoyed more amazing food, and some divine gelato, before heading back to American early Tuesday morning.
And then...
My husband and my luggage was lost!
Hurray, we don’t have to carry it!
It is crazy the amount of luggage karma we’ve had going on this trip. We decided that we had both metaphorically lost a lot of “baggage” during our Italy Adventure. Old emotional baggage. Oh Universe, you silly Girl.
Altogether, this has been a life-altering trip, culminating in our splendid stay in Rome. I expect when I travel to India for my yearly yoga sojourn for it to be life-changing and soul-searching, but Italy sort of snuck up on me. I’ve learned much about myself on this trip, and challenged some of my most deep-seated thoughts and beliefs. Those thoughts and beliefs were boxing-in and filtering my reality so that I was not able to perceive all of the glory happening around me. I’ve let a lot of that go, and things certainly seem rosier and relationships a little easier. Oh, how I want to get back to Rome!
They say that when you throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain, you are destined to return to Rome. I’ve ensured my swift return by doing just that.
Arrivederci, Italia! Until we meet again…
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